by Jaye Peaches
He drove cautiously, a slow pace, never too close to the car in front and his eyes on the mirrors constantly. Reaching home, she opened the front door, and Rick brushed by her quickly, checking for intruders, keeping her behind his back. His bodyguard demeanour had been activated since Sunday and it was a side of Rick she hadn’t seen so blatantly displayed. To some extent it comforted her, but it also scared her, knowing he considered the threat to her, to them both, to be exceptionally serious.
Dropping her handbag on the coffee table, she eased out of her raincoat. Heavy showers plagued the summer and signalled a typical decline in the English weather. Rick stopped her as she made to go into the kitchen to make tea. His fingers curled about her upper arm, halting her on the threshold of the door and walking her back into the room.
“We need to talk,” he said quietly.
“Yes, I agree,” she said keenly. Opening her mouth to make her suggestion about a weekend away, he jumped in before she could say another word.
“I want you to go to your mother, in Italy.”
Leah’s mouth hung open; beneath her tightening throat, her heart jumped. Finding her voice, she spoke stridently. “No!”
“Tomorrow, I’m putting you on a plane down to London, then a connecting flight to Milan.” He continued to speak with a calm authority, which did nothing but infuriate the increasingly vexed Leah.
“Absolutely not!”
“Leah, it is for the best…”
“I will not bloody go. You can’t fucking make me!” She stamped her foot down in anger. Seeing his disgruntled reaction, she altered the tone of her voice, lessening the harshness. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”
Rick’s eyes closed, as if she had caused him great pain. “I can’t come with you, that’s the point. Your mother and Gregor, they can take care of you. Look after you. I can’t any longer, Leah. It’s me that has brought this upon you. Me. I’m the one they’re after; they would follow me. With you gone, I can flee, hide and they will give up. Leave.” His last few words were spoken somewhat lamely, thought Leah, said more out of hope than belief. It didn’t detract from her determination to defy him.
“I am not going, Rick. That’s it. I won’t be parted from you again. Not after everything, not after the last six months. You won’t leave me, you can’t…” Her voice broke, tumbled apart and she heaved, her shoulders shaking as tears cascaded down her cheeks.
“Leah, don’t make this any harder than it is,” said Rick, his eyes shining brightly. “I don’t want to do this—”
“Then don’t. Please, please, don’t leave me again.” Leah reached out, touching a lapel of his jacket; he flinched slightly as if she had hurt him. “I can’t cope without you. I feel safe with you. I managed last time, when you left, because I still had Daddy. Mum, she doesn’t understand me. It doesn’t make any difference to me if I’m here or there, it is you who looks after me.”
“Leah, she’s your mother. Of course she will take care of you.”
Leah shook her head. “We’ve just begun, you and I… it can’t end, not after…” Her voice trailed away. “Please.” She said it one more time, then she tilted her head up to his anguished face, her lips drawn into an offering. Once before, when he had told her of his plan to leave, she had given him a kiss and he had held back, left it incomplete. This time, she prayed he would not hold back or stop.
Rick paused, hovering above her mouth, his breathing audible and rapid. “Leah,” he sighed softly.
His lips practically smashed into her own, no tender planting or delicate puckering, he collided with her and at the same time, pulled her into a tighter embrace. The eager panting on her part came immediately, the frantic need to be close and to feel his flesh and warmth. Leah pulled at the lapel of his jacket, dragging it down off his shoulder, while Rick continued to smother her with kisses.
Firmer hands gripped her; she recognised he was taking control, shifting her body and moving his hands about her. His mouth descended, finding her neck, he sucked hard on her flesh; it would leave a mark. His love bite, something to see in the mirror and touch.
“I can’t stop,” he muttered under his breath.
“Then don’t,” she replied between kisses.
It was a dress of her own creation, lovingly made, and she cared not one bit when he tore it off her. The seams gave, the buttons popped and flew away. Her own hands fumbled with his fly, desperately seeking his bulging cock and only when she had it between her fingers did she calm. She sank to her knees, the remnants of her dress floating down and away, leaving her in her underwear at his feet.
Leah sucked as hard as she could, letting him fill her mouth. Releasing his cock, she gasped for air, curled her tongue about his soft balls, and held them in her mouth. Rick, above and swaying slightly, moaned. His fingers ensnared the strands of her hair. Bunching it up into a makeshift bun, he began to direct her. She lowered her mouth onto him and for the first time, she could take him whole.
Feeling the tip of his cock plunge down her throat, she opened up wide for him and below, her clitoris almost fired off its first orgasm. She didn’t care if she came or not; she wanted him to take his pleasure in her. Her head bobbed up and down, coiling her tongue about his velvety surface.
“Not like this,” he croaked.
Rick lifted Leah’s head off him; snatching her up under the arms, he backed her towards the long sofa, pushing her back down onto it. She watched, silently mesmerised as he stripped naked. His erection sprung out, almost resting against his belly, such was its firmness. Her own remaining clothes he spirited away with a few brisk actions of his strong fingers, the knickers torn away like the dress.
He steadied his hands on either side of her head, smiled at her flushed face, and nudged her legs apart. He didn’t check her readiness, he didn’t need to. She knew she was gushing and open for him. With one firm swoop, he thrust and climbed deep inside her, propelling her a few inches up the sofa. Taking each of her wrists in his hands, he held them above her head and began to rise and fall, dipping his cock back and forth.
She relished the initial slow pace. It would change soon; she knew his preferences. Drawing up her knees, she draped her legs around him, hugging his body closer. Their lips met again, a leisurely kiss as he delved inside her mouth with his tongue, rhythmically intruding in time to the thrusts of his cock.
The speed changed, shifting up a gear; he quickened and began to pound into her, letting go of her mouth so he could focus on his need for air in his lungs. Her hands clutched his buttocks, helping him to slam into her deeper and she didn’t mind the way his cock hit her inner belly. The discomfort she could tolerate, it made her feel alive.
They came together, coordinated by his subtle words of encouragement, “Wait, wait,” and then he commanded her with a growling, “Now!”
They shuddered together, intertwined and sweaty, letting their orgasms linger for as long as possible.
Rick flopped down onto her belly, his weight momentarily crushing her breasts. Aware of the pressure on her, he flipped over, taking her with him, so he lay on his back and Leah rested on top.
She could hear his thumping heartbeats clearly and the wheeze in his lungs.
“I’m not going.”
* * *
Rick cursed under his breath. He had let her seduce him, and he understood why and what she hoped to achieve by letting him take his pleasure in her. Leah, quite naturally, was desperate for him to change his mind. He didn’t doubt the intensity, the passion of their love-making, it never crossed his mind it wasn’t genuine, but it was borne out of that desperation to bind him to her.
A hand wandered down her back and came to a smooth buttock, a familiar piece of her flesh, the first he had ever touched, nearly four years ago. The weight of his palm rested on it, his fingers spread out and he slowly began to squeeze the soft cheek. Leah groaned, shifting a fraction on his chest. Her own fingers curled about his chest hair, anchoring her body to his further.
<
br /> Rick tightened his grip on her, grasping her until his fingers must have been crushing her flesh.
Leah went rigid on his body, her lustful little moan ended and was replaced with a gasp.
“Are you going to spank me for refusing your request? For being defiant?” she asked slowly, her head still firmly planted on his chest, but her breaths had quickened with his actions. He sensed her anger rising—it was understandable.
Could he spank her? He would have to toss her over his lap, hold her down, lecture her, warn her about the perils, paint a ghastly picture of possible torture, just like the one he had witnessed in Sicily, something to scare her. He would have to spank her hard, many severe smacks to make his point, and it would have to be especially painful to break her resolve.
The more he composed the picture in his mind, the more he knew it was wrong and unfair. Placing her life in danger was entirely his fault. He had embroiled himself with criminals, ignored the warning signs until it was too late, left Sicily abruptly with no clear plan, and returned to Liverpool, bringing with him his past and his foes. None of it was due to Leah, her life, her choices. He had exposed her and left her vulnerable. Spanking her would be unreasonable and he doubted she would give in easily; rather, he fancied she would dig in and hold out, entrenching her defiance. Her tolerance of spanking had grown considerably over the last few weeks.
Rick had to think of another way to convince her. His hand remained fixed on her bottom as he thought.
“No, I’m not going to spank you,” he finally said.
Leah relaxed, but he didn’t let go of his grip on her.
“When I first came to Liverpool, looking for a job, I met your father in his study. A rather imposing room, I recall.”
“Yes, it was,” said Leah quietly.
“I had been appointed by the agency, but your father wanted to check my credentials in person. I stood before his desk, like an errant schoolboy. I actually stood to attention. He reminded me of my dad. Eventually, after a bloody long wait, he looked up at me. I won’t forget what he said.” Rick paused. Nothing he was telling her was a lie. The indelible event was bound to his memory of her father.
“Go on,” said Leah.
“He told me about you. Your upbringing, your schooling. He didn’t mention your mother, other to say he was divorced. He sighed, a sad kind of sound. He hated the fact you were no longer his little girl, that you were finding your independence and moving on in life. He regretted the lack of time he had spent with you as a child. He believed it was too late for him and that you would continue to see him as distant.”
Rick felt something warm and wet on his chest—a tear, trickling down her face, had landed on him.
“He asked me, Leah, to keep you safe and protect you. I have always been your bodyguard. He didn’t want you to know. You probably guessed and it is true—I’m not just your driver. He wanted me to protect you, not just from others, but from yourself too. He understood how tough growing up can be and how tempting the world about can be. I gave him that promise. I swore to look after you until you were ready to look after yourself. I’m still bound by that promise. It is why I came back. I couldn’t go on not knowing if you were alright.”
Leah could not hide her tears; they flowed uninhibited and silently. “I will go to Italy. I won’t dishonour my father’s wish or let you break your promise.”
Rick released his hand and began to caress her bottom instead, slow gentle strokes of his hand until her tears ceased.
After a few minutes, she lifted her head up and rose so her legs straddled his body. She cocked her head to one side. “This isn’t easy for me,” she said. “I don’t want to say good-bye.”
“Then we shan’t,” said Rick. “Let’s just say you’re going on a trip and nothing else.”
“Tomorrow. You have the tickets?”
“I bought them today. I know you have a valid passport—you were going skiing with your mother, remember?”
“You’ve thought this through?”
“I’ve been busy today. You have to pack. Just essentials.”
“My job—”
“Deal with that later. You can ring from Italy. Leave a message for the housekeeper, explaining you’ve taken a holiday, nothing else for now.”
Leah’s face crumpled as she considered all the things she had to do in the coming days and weeks. Her life was about to be turned upside down yet again.
“I’m sorry,” said Rick. “So sorry.”
Leah pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t ever regret coming back here. I don’t.” She removed her finger. “Do something for me.”
“What?”
“Spank me.”
“Why?” Rick said, surprised.
“Not a naughty spanking. I’m coiled tight. Anxious. When you spank me, it all flies away. I can’t describe it.”
She lay across his lap, just as he had envisaged earlier. However, there was no force involved, no lecturing her, and certainly no hard smacks. Instead, Rick slapped her cheeks methodically and slowly, and between smacks he rubbed and caressed, watching her face carefully. Occasionally there was a grimace, but mostly she lay blissful, eyes shut and lips slightly parted. Nothing was said. What could he say to her to make it better? Her body flopped down, her muscles unclenched, and her hands let go of their grip on the sofa cushion.
“There,” he said finally, giving her behind a gentle pat.
* * *
Very little was said between the couple throughout the evening. He watched her pack, choose her clothes and personal possessions, a few items of jewellery, and a photograph of her father. Following a long hot bath after having picked at her evening meal and having drunk a few glasses of wine, she was soon tucked up in bed, and he sat by the bedroom window, peering behind the curtains and watching. He had no idea if his adversaries knew where they lived; he couldn’t take any chances.
Owls hooted and a fox barked—the only sounds heard as midnight passed by and the night crept on. Rick’s eyelids drooped; he couldn’t resist sleep much longer. With a yawn, his battle to stay awake was lost.
Chapter Twelve
“Blast,” cursed Rick. He slammed his hand on the steering wheel.
“What’s wrong?” Leah leaned forward from the rear seat.
“Feels like a flat tyre. Car’s steering all over the place. I’ll have to pull over somewhere.”
Rick turned the car off the busy highway, down a side street into the dock area. Leah had begged him to drive to Speke Airport via the city centre, so she could have one last look at her home city.
Slowing down, he pulled the car onto a small area of wasteland, the remains of a demolished building and its foundations clearly visible—piles of bricks and rubble formed a wall around the space.
Rick went to investigate the front wheel. “Stay in the car,” he told Leah.
She slumped back in her seat in frustration.
“There is a nail causing a slow puncture. It’s pretty flat now. I’ll have to change it,” he said through the window.
“Can I help?”
“No. Stay put.” He pointed his finger at her with emphasis.
After rummaging around in the boot looking for the jack and spanner, he disappeared from view, crouched down by the wheel.
Leah closed her eyes, resting her head on the back of the seat and feeling useless.
The door opened on the opposite side, not the side Rick was working on. An arm reached into the car, grabbed hold of her elbow and yanked her hard.
Leah screeched. Now there were two hands, not Rick’s, dragging her across the smooth leather seat towards the door. The man had hairy hands with thick sausage fingers, his breath smelt of stale tobacco and onions. She twisted, trying to kick at him with her feet, but he was strong, far more powerful than Leah. Her long hair became his next target, and using it like a leash, he pulled her out of the car door. She slapped at his hands as they fisted about her hair, making her eyes water with the pain. It was to
no avail; he continued to manhandle her.
She recognised him, one of the men who had followed her after her shopping trip. His face cast in shadows under a cap, she could see the little moustache above his lip.
“Rick!” she hollered. As she cried out, she caught sight of Rick, practically leaping over the bonnet of the car. He had something in his hand—a handgun, a six-shooter pistol. Now Leah understood why he wouldn’t let her touch the glove box.
Rick pointed the barrel of the gun at the man. “Let her go!” he shouted.
Her assailant gave a small shrug, released Leah and lifted his hands up, waving them at Rick. He said something in Italian and Rick hissed a reply at him in the same language. Glancing around, Leah spotted the dark car, parked on the street nearby. They had been followed. The nail had been deliberate, guessed Leah, a ploy to slow them down, distract and force Rick to stop the car. It was a trap.
Where were the other two men?
Leah backed away. Rick signalled for her to come and stand behind him. Rather than walk close by the other man, she opted to manoeuvre behind the back of the car. Eyes on Rick and the gun in his hand, she didn’t notice the obstacles at her feet. She tripped over the jack, crashing down onto the ground.
“Leah!” called out Rick, alarmed.
There were sounds of a scuffle coming from the other side of the vehicle. Leah scrambled to her feet, peeping her head over the roof of the car. The two other men had jumped Rick from behind; her fall had caused him to lose his concentration. The gun, thrown out of his hand, had vanished from sight. She watched, horrified, as Rick began to fight off his attackers. He wasn’t ineffectual or incapable; his natural strength augmented by adrenaline and fear had made him retaliate fiercely. He swung his fists, kicked and twisted his body about to avoid the counter blows.
