Taken Identity

by Raven McAllan

  He kissed the top of her head. “It was my pleasure. I—” He hesitated. “I needed to show you how it can be. It’s not all roll over, bind you up, spank you and deny you your orgasm.”

  Jules giggled.

  “No, it’s wax play, knife play, Wartenberg wheels and nipple clamps as well.”

  She moaned. How could that little lot turn her on? She had no idea, but her clit throbbed, so evidently it did.

  “Exactly, pet. You wait and see. You’ll moan long and loud. But I’m in no hurry.”

  The words ‘we have all our lives’ hovered over Jules’ head and danced in her mind. Did they? Not until the mystery of the missing wife was sorted out.

  “Mmm, mmm.” Jules listened to the rumble of his breathing as his chest—her pillow—rose and fell. This was the moment to bottle, to pull out and remember in the years to come. She didn’t want to move and spoil what they were sharing.

  It was a mechanical rendition of Simply the Best that made her move.

  “Mobile. Where the hell is it?” Jules scrambled out of the bed, earning an ‘oomph’ from Gray as she accidentally jabbed him in the abdomen with her elbow.

  “Oh, sorry. Are you okay? Where is it?” She was gabbling as she hunted through the clothes strewn all over the floor, lifting first one thing, then another. The last thing on either of their minds when they had entered the bedroom was tidiness—or phones. “Come on, damn you. Where are you? Don’t ring off, please, whoever you are.”

  “I’m fine. You missed anything important. Is that your phone by the chair?”

  “Oh, good, glad you’re not damaged. Yep, thank goodness.” She grabbed the phone without paying any attention to her state of undress, apart from shivering slightly. The air in the room was nowhere near as warm as the heat she’d been experiencing from Gray’s body.

  “Cheers. Unknown number. Hello? Yes? What? Just a moment.” She listened intently, still shivering, still standing naked. Gray looked at her, and she suddenly experienced a strong sense of vulnerability. “Who is this?” Her voice rose and she quashed the increasing sense of panic. It wouldn’t help. “What are you going on about?” She paused. “No. You be quiet and list… Oh for goodness’ sake then.” She nibbled her lip and tried not to let her frustration boil over. “I’m listening. Get on with it.”

  He must have sensed how powerless she felt, because Gray got out of bed, fetched her dressing gown and wrapped it around her shoulders before pulling his trousers on.

  She finished up her call then threw the phone on the bed, certain her disgust showed on her face. She put her hands through the sleeves of her dressing gown and tied the belt.

  “Damn my broken loudspeaker. I wish you could have heard that. Asshole, how dare he. Thanks, Gray. What time is it?” She squinted at the clock by the bed, realizing her eyes were dry and her lenses felt gritty.

  “How dare he what? And it’s not late, just after eleven. Why?”

  “I’m starving. Shall we get something to eat and drink, while I tell you about that call? It was interesting, to say the least. I’m deciding how much of a mad to have.”

  One perfect eyebrow rose as he waited for her to continue.

  “An anonymous call, supposedly. Well, it said ‘call blocked’, but I’m sure there were clues in there.”

  Gray waited for her to continue, but she stood distracted, nibbling her bottom lip.

  “And?” he prompted her to explain. “Tell me.” He used his ‘I am your Dom voice’. The one that made her want to tell him everything. But she knew she had to sort her thoughts out to be able to report it all to him properly.

  “What? Oh, sorry, just thinking about something in that call that bothered me.” She shook her head to clear it. “I need to sort it out in my mind and like I said, decide how mad I want to get. It’s nudging ever higher up the scale, the more I think about it. Bear with me for a few more minutes. Come on, scrambled eggs beckon along with a big mug of coffee. Brain food. I think I’m going to need it.”

  Leaning into him, she took succor from his strength and warmth before she reluctantly moved back.

  He held onto her, resisting the move until he had placed a row of tiny kisses along her nape. “We’re in this together, Jules. We’ll get there, get it all sorted out. I promise. Scrambled eggs sound perfect.”

  They worked in harmony, all Jules’ earlier declarations of ‘no room for two in the kitchen’ forgotten, as moving around each other, they cooked their food and brewed the coffee. Neither commented on how many times each seemingly perfectly choreographed movement involved bodies touching. How every move needed a kiss or caress.

  “Right.” Jules swallowed a mouthful of eggs and pointed to the phone behind her. “Actually, it’s a pity I picked up, because there was a lot of background noise, and it would have been helpful if we both could have listened again. I wish I’d got the bloody loudspeaker fixed or at least thought to put the darn call next to both our ears, but hey, my brain wasn’t exactly switched on at the time.”

  “Mine, either, so don’t go beating yourself up about it. So, woman, fill me in. About the phone call first. Then…” His intention was clear by the look on his face.

  “Then we can think of other things.” She finished his thought. Like sex. Like BDSM… “First, though, that call. It was a woman. A strange accent, sort of put-on Scottish. Asked if I was me, and if you were here. Then told me to listen and emphasized if I butted in she’d cut the call. So I shut up after she told me one more word and she’d go. I thought she meant listen to what she said, but thinking back, maybe to what else I could hear.”

  “What did she say? What could you hear?” Gray leaned forward, his interest obviously sparked. “How would someone get your mobile number?”

  Jules laughed. “Questions, questions, and damn few answers, as far as I can see. So, this woman said that someone was sorry, but there was a reason for everything. When it was feasible, everything would be made clear. Honestly, she really spoke like that. As if she had a plum in her mouth. A Scottish plum!”

  “Did she say anything else? You were on the phone for quite a while.” Gray picked up the coffee he had made and filled two mugs.

  Outside, the trees were rustling in the wind that had sprung up, and something banged against the wall.

  “The weather’s on the change,” Jules said, as she took the mug with a brief thanks. “Mmm, need this.”

  “Let’s hope my life is, as well.”

  “Is as well what?” Jules wished he’d stop speaking in riddles. Things were complicated enough without having to sort out his mutterings.

  “On the change,” Gray elaborated. “Did the caller say anything else, Jules? Anything that might let us know what the call was really all about?”

  “Hold on, yes. That delving too deeply, too fast, could have far reaching consequences, something ‘someone’ would prefer to avoid, if possible. And then there was a pause, before she said, really quietly, danger had a way of affecting those it shouldn’t. Then, ‘I am so sorry’, and she rang off. I mean, she said, ‘I am so sorry’, not me.”

  “I got that. You’re sure at the end she said ‘I am so sorry’? Because earlier you said she had said ‘someone’ was sorry, not ‘I’m sorry’, like she did at the end.”

  Jules nodded emphatically. “I picked up on that, as well. She definitely changed from talking as if she was relaying a message for someone else, to talking as if she was saying everything for herself. Something else struck me, Gray. I think there was someone with her. Because she stopped talking for a bit, and I could hear a muffled voice that I thought was saying something like, ‘that’s great, love’. But I can’t be totally sure. It was so muffled, as if she had her hand over the receiver. That was just before the danger bit.”

  Gray took her face in his hands and kissed her nose, making her laugh.

  “That tickles,” she protested, then, as he stopped her protest with a kiss on the mouth, sighed happily.

  “That doesn’t,”
she said when they finally moved apart. “Something is definitely going on, Gray. I got the impression she might have been in an airport or a railway station or somewhere there’s lots of public announcements, because I could hear a tannoy or something while she was speaking. Not very distinct—I think she was probably trying to shield the receiver all the time. But I’m sure I could hear ‘delayed’, and ‘due’, and ‘arriving’. Thinking back, more likely to be a railway station than an airport, because I didn’t hear anything about ‘gates’ or ‘landings’. Not that we get any further with that, do we?” Jules knew she sounded like a petulant child and hated the whine she detected in her voice. But it was one step forward and three back. Enough to make anyone spit the dummy out. Her mad-o-meter was definitely on the increase.

  Gray stood up and maneuvered her out of her chair, across the room, and toward the settee, where he settled her on his lap, her head resting on his shoulder. Her hair fell over his still-bare chest, and he stroked the tresses lovingly. The sides of her dressing gown fell open, and Gray used his free hand to rub up and down one thigh.

  “I think,” he said slowly, “we can’t do anything else tonight. Well, not about the Julia problem. I can think of several things we can do apart from that.”

  Jules did the little wriggle in his lap that she had discovered drove his libido into overdrive.

  “Really? What things? This?” She rested the fingers of one hand around one taut nipple, tugged and then soothed. “Or this?”

  Her other hand drifted downwards.

  Gray took hold of them both.

  “All of that. And the rest. This, for instance. Are you ready for me to show you a little of what we could have, pet?”

  Time to put up or shut up.

  “I… Yes, Sir.” She made her mind up. “Definitely, yes.”

  “Good girl, pet. And there’s this.” He held her hands high above her head. “And definitely this…” His voice trailed off, as he grazed her nipple with his teeth and then sucked and soothed the areola of each breast in turn. Skillfully, he raised her awareness level by several notches until Jules was writhing on his lap, tiny moans of pleasure escaping between kisses.

  * * * *

  That flaming phone! Jules opened one eye, noted it was still dark and began to move slowly across the bed. Hoping not to wake Gray was a forlorn hope, as he had one arm holding her firmly to his side.

  “Mine,” he said indistinctly.

  “Sorry?” She lifted off his arm, only for him to replace it, this time with his hand firmly over her pussy, one finger circling her clitoris. Damn that’s good.

  He still managed to mumble, though. “Mine. Phone. Stay still.”

  “Gray, it’s my mobile, my ring tone. I need to answer it.”

  Without letting her move away, Gray switched on the bedside lamp. “Let it go to answerphone.”

  “It might be important. It’s… Well, I can’t see what time it is. I’ve not got my lenses in. But it’s dark, night time and everyone knows you only get bad calls in the middle of the night.”

  “So, wait for the answerphone. It might be from that mysterious—or not so mysterious—caller again. We can listen to it over and over if we record it.”

  “Clever,” Jules said admiringly, relaxed back into his arms and tingled all over as she experienced Gray’s oh-so-clever finger, as he slid it into her pussy. She just about understood the sense in what he was saying, with the little bit of her mind that wasn’t a puddle. A thought struck her. “W…what if whoever it is doesn’t leave a message?”

  “Then they’ll ring again,” Gray said soothingly, without stopping the assault on her cunt. “Jules, we’ve got further in the last two days than I had in all the time I’ve been trying to sort this out. A few more hours isn’t going to make much difference. It’s as if she—they—whoever—were waiting for me to find you. Hell, I was getting nowhere before that anonymous letter. And I’ll admit now I had Googled you, but it didn’t tell me anything I didn’t know.” He paused for a moment. “I even managed to contact your agent. But when I told her I was your husband, she became very frosty. Told me to write to her. I never got an answer. No wonder, really.”

  “She didn’t tell me. But then, she knows I’m not married, so would have put you in the ‘crank’ box, never to be seen again, unless something nasty happened.” She shuddered.

  In answer, Gray drew her close, enveloping her with his strength. She enjoyed the feel of him against her, how he molded her into him.

  “Hell, Jules, I can’t get enough of you, your luscious body, warm and alive, the scent of your skin, all lemon and spice. The essence of Jules. I wouldn’t have said I was a romantic, but hey, you make me want to write poetry.”

  “Go on, then.” She was incredibly touched. “Tell me some poetry.”

  He flushed then laughed as he continued to stroke her clit and pussy.

  “You asked for it. Here goes.” Gray cleared his throat. “You invade my senses, your hair smelling softly of citrus reminds me of summer. Everything I will remember for years to come. In the still of the night, these feelings will come to me, comfort me.”

  He lay still, and she savored the moment as he stroked her hair, his movements unhurried, relishing their closeness before, eventually, with seeming reluctance, he effortlessly moved them both into a sitting position.

  “Okay,” he said in a relaxed tone. “Let’s see if there’s a message, shall we, pet?”

  Jules picked up the phone and handed it to him, trying not to shake. “You do it, Sir. My fingers won’t go where I want them to.”

  Gray laughed and contrived to look upset. “Oh? So all that touching wasn’t what you meant to do? I’m desolate.”

  Jules stared at him. “What? Oh, you rat. I’ll remember.” He stared.

  She flushed and giggled. “Sir. I’ll get you back for that, Sir.”

  Gray laughed openly. “Promises, promises. I do hope so. I like that thought, pet.”

  Now she was confused.

  “To come… Sounds promising. Okay, okay. Sorry, no more. Let’s listen.” Deftly, he scrolled thorough and of course found the message straight away. He didn’t have any trouble making his fingers work. “Cuddle in and listen.”

  A clear, amused voice with perfect diction spoke. It was very theatrical and very definitely male.

  “Clever,” the caller said. “Letting me go to answerphone. I was sure you’d be awake, and, er, waiting for this call. No matter, you won’t know where I am or who I am. All I can say is please listen, take heed and help us. For reasons that don’t affect you directly, I am asking you, Mr. Reynard, and that rather annoying detective chappy, to hold off. Stand back for a while, and stop poking about. Unfortunate that once they found you so quickly, Julia, they didn’t just stop there. That was what was meant to happen. Dead end, so to speak. But, no.” The caller sighed dramatically. “All three of you went on digging. Please stop. Now, it matters to me and to someone else. Very important we have space. And time. Right.” The voice became brisker, more authoritative, less affected. “That’s it. Please help us. I’ll contact you again.”

  The call ended.

  “Can you play it again, Gray? There was something…” Jules looked at him thoughtfully. They listened to the message again. “What time did we get it?”

  “About ten minutes ago. Says six-oh-six on the phone. That’s about right.”

  She grinned. “I know where that call came from.”

  “You do?” He seemed amazed. “How? Where?”

  Jules felt pleased with herself. “I am a super sleuth. Ms. Frayne to the rescue.”

  “Okay. Miss Marple, I can see you’re full of information.” He put the phone back on the table and settled her against his chest. “Go on, then. Tell me.”

  Jules wriggled to get into her new favorite position, head on his chest, thigh to his thigh. A thought struck her. “You don’t mind me sitting here and not on the floor? I’ve read that in books.”

  Gray shook h
is head. “We make our own protocol and this is perfect for now.”

  “Oh good, now where was I? Oh yeah, well, just before he finished, I heard a clock strike, just once. A sort of boing. Unusual, and if the clock on the phone is right, a weird time for it to strike.”

  “So?” Gray seemed interested. He watched her hands move as she spoke, as they emphasized what she was saying.

  “I know where there is a church clock that does that. One stroke, six minutes after the hour. But get this, only after the six a.m. strokes. It’s all to do with the local factory and its shift times. Well it was. There’s no factory anymore.”

  “Good girl.” Gray kissed her and gave her a hug. “So, where is it?”

  “Here.”

  Chapter Six

  Gray gaped at her. “Run that past me again. Here? Where here?”

  “This village. Our village clock. I don’t know of anywhere else that has a clock that does the same thing.” Jules felt very self-satisfied. “Every morning at six-oh-six a.m., it chimes just once. It was so people going to the local factory years ago knew they had to get a move on to be on time for their shifts. You can’t hear it in here—wrong side of the house and double-glazing—but it’s loud and clear in the garden, and reasonably so downstairs in the lounge. So, he must have been in the village when he made the call. Bugger it. So this time, if I had answered the call, we might have seen him.”

  “How? Running down the street in our birthday suits? That would have pleased the neighbors.”

  “Some of them, anyway,” Jules said in a voice which even to herself sounded smug. “The McCutcheons are naturists. Not sure about the vicar, although he is said to be of a liberal persuasion.”

  “Be that as it may, your body is mine, pet, and I don’t share.” Gray stared at her as if drinking his fill of her with his eyes. As if he was lovingly committing to memory every sleek curve and crevice. Her heart filled with a previously unfelt emotion, and yes, once again she had damp thighs. She turned her mind back to what he was saying.