Third Time Lucky (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Rosemary J. Anderson

  Noticing Mason’s eyes were open, she shook off her melancholy and, responding to his deep intense look, she smiled and cuddled up close. Stroking her hand over his muscular chest, Holly’s lips soon took the place of her hand and she rolled on top of Mason, kissing his chest, caressing his muscular shoulders, and running her hands tenderly down his arms. Moving down his body, Holly kissed her way to his hard, flat stomach, smiling delightedly as his stomach muscles jerked under her ministrations. Then, taking the torment further she lapped gently at his navel. Mason groaned and, holding the back of her head, ran his fingers gently through the soft, silky strands of her hair as it lay splayed over his torso. Lower and lower she travelled, touching, tasting, and exploring.

  Holly could feel Mason’s tension as she neared the core of his masculinity and his cock jerked, rising up like a stallion as she lightly drew her fingers through his pubic hair. Taking his thick, engorged member in her hand, she kissed the tip and his thick powerful thighs trembled. Slowly, tenderly, she took him into her mouth, her tongue caressing, swirling around his thickness to momentarily poke the tip and taste the cum dewing there. Mason groaned, his hand tightening on the back of her head as he gently pushed her down to take his cock deeper into her mouth. Her hand at the base of his cock worked a special kind of magic as she began slowly and then more quickly to masturbate his manhood. Taking him back into her mouth, her teeth gently grazed the veined flesh and the magic became an enchantment as he exploded on a strong primal orgasm.

  Moments later Mason had twisted her onto her back and his head was between her thighs, his tongue probing the core that was the very essence of her femininity. Her breath caught and her hands twisted the pillows either side of her head as an agony of desire rippled her skin and surged through her veins. The feel of Mason’s mouth against the soft petals of her pussy and his teeth grazing the hard swollen nub of her clit pulled her into a dizzying maelstrom of sensation, where the colours, smells, and noises around her became merged into one. Her body quivered with the first buzz of climax, and at the lapping of his tongue on her pulsating nub she burst into a wonderful, thrilling, exciting eddy of orgasm that caught her breath, pounded her heart, and throbbed enchantingly at her clit.

  Laying spread-eagled on the bed with Mason beside her, Holly came slowly back to Earth. The wonderful, delightful sensations slowly leaving her trembling body left her lethargic and satisfied. She turned her head to stare at her husband. He had a magic touch, a touch that could turn her into a quivering gelatinous mess, and how she loved him. If only…

  Her thoughts were interrupted by Mason turning his head to stare into her troubled eyes.

  “Holly, are you okay?”

  She nodded, her mouth drying under his mesmerising gaze. “Yes, fine. I was just thinking, well, wanting to say that I…”

  “Stop worrying about Alex.”

  The words of love Holly was about to declare were left unsaid as Mason continued his reassurance.

  “He’s long gone, so you’ve nothing to worry about, and if by some remote chance he’s still in the area, then we will find him. The police are on the lookout and I’m not going back on duty again. What I’ve left to do, paperwork and such like, I’ll do from home. So…”

  His eyes gentled and he lifted her hand to his mouth and, opening the fingers, kissed her palm. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

  Folding her fingers tightly around his kiss and her eyes filling with tears, Holly looked into his rugged, handsome face and felt reassuringly safe.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jules De Verne, leaving the clinic and nursing one hell of a headache, scowled at his driver and ordered him to take him to his hotel. He needed rest, but more than that he needed to find a way of getting close enough to kill Holly. He gritted his teeth, his anger overwhelming in its intensity. Not only had she disobeyed him, she’d also tried to kill him and he needed revenge. It was unacceptable that one of his prey had turned the tables on him. A woman! A stupid woman had escaped his clutches and he wouldn’t have it. Jules ground his teeth. He now needed a workable plan.

  Back in his hotel room Jules strode to the door and flung back the wood in answer to the hesitant knock. The woman that entered smiled saucily at his scowling countenance and sashayed in.

  “Take your clothes off, woman.”

  Watching her comply with his orders, Jules smiled in satisfaction. Women were there for men’s satisfaction and should know their place and a whore guaranteed he got what he wanted. Holly was his prey, but she had a nubile body and he itched to fuck her. Today, had the hunt gone well he would have fucked her and fucked her hard before it culminated in its inevitable and—the corner of his mouth turned up in a semblance of a smile—tragic end. But instead…

  He scowled again at the woman lying on the bed and ordered her to open her legs.

  A short time later the woman, clutching some notes, left Jules sitting up in bed. He shifted comfortably. His body felt satiated, but rage still burned in his gut. The whore had been good, obedient to his every command, and happy to be dominated. He smiled as he recalled just how hard he’d smacked her soft bottom. Just thinking about her soft cries tightened his groin and jerked his cock. But now, his desire satisfied, he needed a plan. Lifting his mobile he placed a call and waited. Moments later he rattled off some Portuguese then threw the phone back on the cover, a smile twisting his lips. A good fuck and he was soon back on form. “Not long now, my angel,” he murmured, fingering the scar on the side of his face.

  * * * *

  Morning came and Holly gave her statement to the police who seemed to think that Alex had left the country. However, they hastened to reassure her that they would be keeping an eye on the house and that there was a bulletin out for him as well.

  Comforted to some extent, Holly enjoyed the morning with Mason who set out to soothe and put her at ease. A lovely lunch in a country inn helped as did the long, slow walk through the countryside with Mason firmly holding her hand. And they talked about everything and anything, learning about each other’s childhood. Holly’s was impoverished and lonely, hence her early marriage to Adam. And Mason’s was well-to-do with plenty of friends and family and a firm focus as to what his future would be. It was an afternoon Holly would remember for a long time. The November sun was shining, warming a cold winter’s sky, the countryside blooming with the last of nature’s autumn bounty, ripe red berries, rich green evergreens, and the brown and black seeds that had been missed by the squirrels. It was a time of companionship, of closeness, and of an awakening, of a true understanding of what it was to be part of a pair, and for Holly a deeper blossoming of her love for Mason.

  That afternoon set the scene for other just-as-enjoyable days. Mason was a stimulating and exciting companion, his commitment to the sanctuary and to the animals emotive and passionate. The days passed, turning into weeks, and men were brought in, builders, surveyors, and experts, advising, measuring, and consulting. And then it all started to happen and no expense was spared. Pens were built as were safe shelters for sick and injured animals. A vet was hired, a kind caring older man whose credentials were above reproach, and a new animal hospital commissioned. Holly was caught up in Mason’s enthusiasm and threw herself into the work, sometimes dealing with the paperwork such an ambitious undertaking commanded, and at other times, just rolling her sleeves up and mucking in when and where necessary. Life was good, full of hope and promise and her life with Mason—content, amazing, passionate, and most of all exhilarating. Her love for him grew day by day, and his for her?

  Who knew what Mason was feeling? A strong, silent type, he played his cards close to his chest. He wanted to be with her—of that she was sure—seeking her out, making wonderful, delightful love to her, and yet it was as if he held back part of himself. And sometimes she caught him staring at her, a strange look on his face, as if he were waiting for something, but waiting for what?

  * * * *

  Holly frowned, staring out of the wind
ow. It was the beginning of December and the snow was falling from a heavy white sky. The opening of the study door broke Holly’s reverie and she looked up as Mason entered the room. In uniform he looked wonderful and commanding, although rather remote, in a tux, sexy, handsome, and debonair but in his rough jeans and shirt carelessly open at the throat and Sumo prancing beside him, he looked all those things and yet so much more. He looked, kind, gentle, and devilishly good-looking.

  “Hello, my wife,” he murmured, his voice a soft dark brown.

  “Hello, my husband,” she responded, revelling in the thought that this wonderful man was hers and hers alone. He grinned, a white slash of perfect teeth and his eyes gleaming as she gave a slow smile in return.

  “Lunch?” His eyebrow lifted in enquiry.

  “Lunch.” She nodded slowly rising to her feet and making her way over to where he stood, his hand still on the doorknob.

  As she drew alongside he reached out an arm and pulled her against him. “Unless you have something else in mind.”

  Pretending to think, she gave a slow, sexy smile and tilted her head to one side. Slowly trailing her fingers up over the front of his shirt, her fingers lingering at each button, she raised one of her eyebrows in an imitation of his.

  “Mmm, now what else could we possibly indulge in besides lunch?”

  “Minx,” he whispered, gently pushing Sumo out of the room. Drawing her farther into the study, he closed the door, taking the precaution of locking it before pulling her firmly into his arms.

  Mason’s hands cupped her face and, lowering his head, he took her lips in a kiss of devastating proportions. Holly’s arms wrapped around his waist and she pressed closer. Hips to hips, breast to breast, and the feel of his engorged cock surging against the restriction of his jeans had an alluring effect. Her fingers trembling she found his zipper and began to lower it. He groaned, the sound loud in the silence of the room. Mason’s lips trailed like molten lava down the side of her neck to her décolletage and her head fell back, allowing him easy access to her throat. Subsiding into the leather chair behind the desk, Mason slowly began sliding his hands up her skirt to her silken thighs encased in black stockings. Holly’s breath caught in her throat and she trembled at his touch. Mason’s fingers found the lace edge of her miniscule panties and stroked their way under the satin to the soft, silky folds of her labia. Biting her lip as the ache of desire became a throbbing need, Holly groaned his name and clutched at Mason’s shoulders.

  Mason pulled her panties down her legs to her knees and held Holly to him by way of cupping her hip with one hand whilst he tenderly inserted two of the fingers of his other hand between the folds of her labia. Feeling the slightly sticky yet silky wetness that indicated her sexual desire on his hand, he pushed the fingers deeply into her pussy. Experiencing the automatic tightening of her internal muscles at his penetration, he groaned and Holly groaned in response. With his fingers still deep in her body Mason flicked her already burgeoning clitoris with his thumb. Holly cried out and Mason began thrusting his fingers in and out, twisting his hand with every thrust, therefore stimulating her clitoris with each brush of his thumb. Inhaling deeply, Mason, smelling her essence, enjoyed her uninhibited pleasure even whilst her enjoyment caused him pain. His cock felt tight and painful as it jerked and jumped about in his pants, fully engorged, desperately seeking satisfaction and impatient at the wait.

  Holly tightly closed her eyes in sublime contentment. The feel of Mason’s magic fingers inside her body was causing an exquisite pain, a dizzying headiness, a euphoria that heightened her senses and enervated her body. She felt boneless, weak, and yet somehow energized. The swirling of desire had become a whirlpool of lust and she wanted, needed Mason’s touch. It was like she was a Catherine wheel spinning brightly out of control, sparking, electrifying, and for wont of a better word, whizzing into the air until, that final moment when she exploded on an orgasm so intense she thought she would be torn in two. Falling against Mason she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed the top of his head.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You’re welcome.” He laughed delightedly as she blushed even harder.

  Pulling her panties completely off, Mason urged her to sit astride his body. Smiling into her eyes he pushed the hair off her hot brow and kissed her rosy cheeks.

  The laughter died and Holly, staring into his eyes, lowered her head and kissed him. All the love she felt for him was in that kiss and he stilled and wrapped his arms firmly around her, holding her close to his heart.

  The air grew heavy with passion, unsaid words, and intense emotions.

  Caught up in a powerful need to declare her love, Holly wriggled on his lap to lighten the atmosphere, smiling as his cock sprang to attention. Mason groaned again and with a little manoeuvring he let it leap free before it was instantly sheathed in Holly’s hot body. Catching her breath as his cock filled and stretched her, she tightened her internal muscles and began to move. Mason’s hands on her hips controlled her movements, allowing them both the enjoyment of their joining. Twisting and gyrating her hips she alternatively tightened and released her internal muscles, causing a pulsing friction that had her catching her breath in delight as the slow ember of climax began to burn. Soon the slow burning wasn’t enough and placing the tips of her toes more firmly on the floor she began to bounce up and down on his hard thick shaft. Mason’s hands on her hips urged her on and soon the slow burn became a molten heat, which then became a searing ember that turned into a flame that scorched, sizzled, and electrified as she burst into an explosive orgasm. Mason’s orgasm swiftly followed and he announced his pleasure by groaning between clenched teeth, the sound primitive and powerful as he pumped his hot seed deep into her womb.

  Her face nestling into the curve of Mason’s neck, Holly sighed in delicious gratification. Mason responded by tightening his arms around her contented body and she snuggled closer, her limbs still trembling in the aftermath of passion. However, the strident ringing of the telephone blocked out the soft words Holly whispered against the side of his neck. And the words?

  “I love you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jules De Verne looked up from the brick he was cementing into position and stared across at the house. The woman Holly was in there and one way or another this time he would not be thwarted. He would kill her. He reached up and moved his cap more securely into place, his fingers gently feeling the swelling that seemed to be a permanent part of his life now. Holly would pay for what she had done to him. The blow on the head had caused damage and sometimes he forgot things. He was now imperfect and she would pay. It had taken a couple weeks to get him back to health and now he was back, right under her very nose and he would be ready. There would be a time when she was alone, when no one was watching and that was when he would strike. But for now—he smiled at a colleague who cracked a joke—now he would be just one of the boys and bide his time.

  * * * *

  Mason Black dished up the eggs he had scrambled. Sex always made him hungry and sex with Holly—he smiled—was a whole new ballgame. She was energetic, tender, and adventurous. He frowned, feeling as if he was missing something, something important. They had made love and afterward Holly had been sweet and caring and she had snuggled trustingly against him, but there was something else. He wrestled with his memory. The phone had rung and they had quickly broken apart, he to answer the strident ringing, her to go freshen up, but there was something before that. He looked up as Holly entered the room, looking as fresh as a daisy, warm in a pink sweater and dark brown pants.

  “Just in time. I’ve made eggs and toast. So I hope you’re hungry?”

  “Starving.” She smiled sweetly at him as she took her seat at the table. “Where’s Mrs. Henry?”

  “Visiting her sister, don’t you remember?”

  “Oh yes, of course, sorry I just forgot.”

  Tucking into the eggs and hot buttered toast, the conversation became mundane,
the weather, the building, and Christmas all were discussed but nothing about their feelings. Holly sighed, wondering if there would ever be a time when she felt brave enough to ask him how he really felt about her. But then would she ever gather enough courage to actually declare her feelings? She thought perhaps not.

  Christmas was coming upon them fast and Holly’s gathering excitement knew no bounds. A tree had been uprooted for the festivities and placed in a large barrel in the living room ready for decorating. The box of baubles, ribbons, and ornaments had been brought down from the attic and a couple of sets of lights had been bought when the others were found to be beyond repair. It was evening and a week before Christmas. The fire was burning brightly in the living room and the mince pies were warm and tasty as was the mulled wine and hot chocolate. Holly was rummaging in the box of ornaments and Mason was placing bouquets of holly, mistletoe, and Christmas roses all tied up with bright scarlet ribbon at strategic points around the room. The sparkling white fairy lights were already in place on the tree, making the spruce twinkle and sparkle like a thousand stars. Holly, in between munching on a mince pie, was singing along to the Christmas songs blasting merrily out of the MP3 player. Then came the most important part of all—the loading of the Christmas tree. Baubles, bows, and ribbons, small ornaments and fir cones all had a place and in Holly’s mind the more the merrier. It was while she was struggling to place the sparkling silver star that Mason reached over her head and placed it at the top of the tree. Turning to thank him, she was brought up against his hard masculine chest and her heart missed a beat. She was so truly happy. It was Christmas, the outside world was a winter wonderland, and she had the kindest, gentlest husband in the world and he wasn’t bad looking either. She looked up and smiled into his twinkling eyes and suddenly feeling shy she dipped into a curtsey and lowered her eyes.