by S. Quinn
‘Shall we take a seat?’ Marc suggests, nodding towards the couch at the back of the room.
Dad holds out his glass to be refilled by a passing waiter. ‘Yes. Okay.’
Marc leads us through the crowd and gestures to a sofa made of carved, golden wood and upholstered in red silk.
Dad dusts his jeans before he sits down, and perches on the edge of the couch as though he’s afraid he’ll crush it.
I sit down too, but Marc stays standing.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask Dad. ‘You seem a little … not quite yourself.’
‘Oh, just … Genoveva was supposed to be here.’
‘Who’s looking after Sammy?’
‘A babysitter.’
‘Is Genoveva okay?’
Dad downs his champagne. ‘As far as I know.’
I throw Marc a quizzical look.
‘If this is a bad time—’
‘Not at all,’ says Dad, glancing at the door again. ‘What did you want to talk to me about?’
‘I … we just wanted to tell you that we’re not engaged yet.’
‘Engaged?’ Dad blinks at his empty champagne glass. ‘Oh. Right, yes. No, I didn’t expect … I mean, you’re far too young, and you’ve only known each other five minutes.’
‘We sort of got interrupted.’
Dad’s eyes widen. ‘Sophia, you weren’t … I mean, were you going to say yes?’
‘I would have done.’
‘But … Sophia, you’re such a sensible girl.’
‘Dad, what are you saying?’
Dad’s eyes flick back towards the door. ‘In all honesty, I think you should wait a year or so before thinking about something as long-term as marriage.’
‘But you gave Marc your permission.’
‘Of course I did. It’s your decision love, not mine.’
‘But Dad, don’t you understand? It’s not just your permission I want. It’s your blessing.’
‘That’s a bit harder to give. Things have happened very quickly. And you’re so young. I just don’t want you getting hurt.’
‘I would never hurt Sophia,’ says Marc. He has his hands in his pockets and his forehead is locked into a frown.
‘Dad, you look so tired,’ I say. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Oh, just—’ He glances at Marc. ‘Family stuff.’
‘I should leave you to talk with your father,’ says Marc, his hands still buried in his pockets. ‘I’m going for a walk’
‘Marc—’
‘I’ll be back soon.’ Marc gives me a light kiss on the cheek.
I watch him stride out of the door, the long lines of his body moving through his clothing, and feel the usual disbelief that this Hollywood star, with his beautiful, handsome face and taut body, is my boyfriend.
I turn to Dad. ‘So what’s the story?’
5
Dad focuses on his champagne glass, both hands clutching the crystal bowl. ‘Genoveva and I had an argument. That’s all. No big deal. Look, I know I gave Marc permission, but … I never dreamed you’d say yes.’
‘Dad, you really don’t sound like yourself right now—’
‘He seems very controlling of you, love. Very protective. The way he looks at you … it’s all very intense.’ Dad stares at the door. ‘I wouldn’t want you making a mistake. And getting hurt.’
I follow his stare. ‘Dad. Where is Genoveva? Why isn’t she here?’
‘This is your party. Let’s talk about you.’
‘We were,’ I say, taking a sip of champagne. ‘But that didn’t turn out to be much fun.’
‘Sophia, if you really want to marry Marc, I can’t stop you.’
‘I would never marry anyone without your blessing. You know that. After what Mum said to us …’
‘I’m going to get on home and let you enjoy yourself. We’ll talk about this another time.’
‘Dad, are you okay?’
‘Just tired, love. Will you be coming home for Christmas?’
‘Of course. The play runs on Christmas Eve, but I’ll come to the cottage straight afterwards and we’ll all spend Christmas day together, just like always.’
‘Will he be coming? Marc?’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t asked him yet.’
Dad hesitates. ‘He’s so much older than you.’
‘I love him, Dad. I want to be with him. That’s not going to change. If Marc comes to the cottage for Christmas, will you be okay with that?’
‘I’ll be okay with it.’ He stands up. ‘See you on Christmas Eve. Enjoy your big night. Don’t worry about me.’ He kisses me on the head. ‘Well done love.’
I watch Dad head towards the door, but before he can leave, Jen corners him. She’s probably trying to work out what we were all talking about. She’s so nosy. The perfect PR girl.
I feel the couch jiggle beside me.
‘Hey pretty girl, why the serious face?’
I turn to see Leo. He’s still holding a champagne bottle, and takes a long swig from it.
‘What’s up? Where’s Mr Marc Blackwell? Out hunting vampires?’
‘He’s gone for a walk.’
‘A walk? In the moonlight? Without taking the love of his life? I’ve never seen a man so crazy about a woman. He doesn’t take his eyes off you.’
‘He’s protective.’
‘More than just protective. I thought he was going to rip my head off when he walked in here earlier. What did I do?’
‘He didn’t like that I’d been to your dressing room before,’ I admit. ‘He doesn’t know whether to trust you yet. But he will.’
‘Does that mean my dressing room is off limits now?’
‘Of course not. I don’t do everything Marc tells me. He’s not my keeper. There’s no reason for me not to hang out with you. Marc has nothing to be jealous about.’
‘Oh no?’ Leo’s words are playful, but he slides a little closer.
I laugh and slap his shoulder. ‘No! We’re just friends. You know that.’
‘I guess I can’t compete with Marc Blackwell.’ Leo lifts my chin and affects a deep, serious voice. ‘Oh Sophia, Sophia. Where for art thou, Sophia?’
I feel eyes on me, and turn to see Marc in the dressing room doorway.
Leo follows my gaze and drops his fingers. ‘Uh oh.’
Marc stalks towards us at such speed that waiters and guests step aside.
‘Sophia.’ Marc glares at Leo. ‘Is he bothering you?’
‘No. Of course not. We were just talking.’
‘He doesn’t need to touch you to talk to you.’ Marc’s voice is hard and angry.
‘Leo was just messing around.’
‘He can mess around with someone else. Someone who isn’t spoken for.’
‘Hey.’ Leo stands up. ‘We were just talking. No hard feelings, huh? She only has eyes for you right now.’
‘Right now?’ Marc’s voice is positively boiling.
‘Marc.’ I put a hand to his chest.
Over Marc’s shoulder I see Dad watching. He has a look on his face that tells me he’s not impressed by what he’s seeing.
I lead Marc away from Leo. ‘We were just talking.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘Of course I am. Well ... except for everything with Dad. I’ll talk to him over Christmas. Hopefully he’ll be his old self again by then.’
Marc wraps an arm around me. ‘I’ll talk to him too. And I’ll keep talking to him until he understands just how much I love you.’
‘Oh Marc,’ I sigh. ‘Why can’t life ever be easy? All I want is to be with you. Why can’t Dad see that we’re meant to be together?’
‘He will. You look tired. I should take you home.’
‘But I’ve hardly spoken to anyone yet.’
‘Sophia, you’ll wear yourself out. It’s been a long day.’
‘I need to at least thank everyone for coming.’ A yawn catches me by surprise, and my hand shoots to my mouth.
‘Come on,’ says
Marc. ‘Say your goodbyes. I’m taking you home.’
6
After I’ve said goodbye to everyone, Marc and I head to the limo.
Keith is waiting in the car, reading a crime paperback and eating a bag of liquorice allsorts. He gives a joking salute when he sees us and leaps out to open the back door.
‘M’lady.’ He bows to me. ‘You were terrific. Wonderful. I nearly cried at the end. Don’t tell anyone’
‘You saw the show?’
‘Wouldn’t miss it. Marc made sure I had a good seat.’
‘I thought the tickets were all sold out.’
‘Mr Blackwell bought plenty of reserves,’ says Keith with a wink.
‘Maybe Marc was the reason they all sold out,’ I say, with a tired smile. ‘He bought all the tickets.’
‘Hardly,’ says Marc, helping me into the car.
Once we’re inside the limo, I fall against Marc’s shoulder, realising how truly tired I am. Marc sits upright, slipping his arm around me and pulling me into him. I feel his chest moving against my cheek and feel warm and safe.
‘Marc?’ I say. ‘I wanted to ask you something earlier. About Christmas. What are your plans?’
‘That all depends on you,’ Marc says. ‘And what you want.’
‘I want to be with you,’ I say. ‘But I always go back to the cottage at Christmas to see Dad and Sammy. And Jen – she comes over on Christmas day too. I was wondering ... would you like to spend Christmas day with me? At my Dad’s cottage?’
‘Would I be welcome?’ Marc’s voice rumbles against my cheek.
‘Dad said he’d be okay with it,’ I say, chewing a thumb nail. ‘So? Will you come?’
‘If you feel I won’t be creating an uncomfortable situation. I don’t want to be disrespectful to your father.’
‘I ... he said it would be okay.’
‘Just okay?’
‘He really wasn’t himself tonight.’
London lights flicker through the tinted car windows, and I find myself closing my eyes.
‘I wish I could visit Dad tomorrow,’ I say. ‘Make sure he’s okay. But I promised Leo we’d rehearse.’
Marc stiffens. ‘You never mentioned that.’
‘Didn’t I? I meant to. I forgot. Leo asked me during the interval. He wants to use the audience reaction to guide us.’
‘Nice to know he’s acting like a professional for once.’ There’s an edge to Marc’s voice, but I’m too tired to worry about it. Instead, I relax into his shoulder, feeling my eyes closing again as the car jogs through London. Soon sleep overtakes me.
7
When I open my eyes again, I’m in Marc’s townhouse. He’s carrying me up the stairs, and I feel my hair swaying beneath me. My eyes sleepily glide over the building pictures lining Marc’s staircase.
I need to do something with this place, I think sleepily. Give it some heart and soul. Grow some plants. Make it warmer.
Now we’re on the landing.
Marc pushes open his bedroom door with his shoulder and carries me to the bed. He pushes the duvet aside with his elbow and lays me on the silk sheet. I look up at his handsome face, seeing concern pull at his blue eyes.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.
‘You’re tired,’ he says, in a low voice. ‘But god ... if you knew what I wanted to do to you right now ...’
I feel the familiar warmth building. I’m still tender from our time in the dressing room earlier, but I want him so badly.
‘I’m not that tired,’ I say, stifling a yawn.
Marc circles the bed, taking off his suit jacket and throwing it over a chair. ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘You’re tired. Far too tired for what I have in mind.’
‘What do you have in mind?’ I murmur.
‘It can wait.’
The warmth turns to burning. ‘I can stay awake.’ I try not to yawn again.
‘No. Sleep now. The quicker you do, the quicker I can fuck you the way I want.’ Marc goes to the foot of the bed, undoes my shoelaces and slides off my shoes. It’s not like the time he undressed me at the hotel, when his movements were deliberately seductive. He’s quick and functional, flinging my footwear to the floor.
Then he undoes my jeans and pulls them from my legs, pausing for just a moment to look at my bare skin, before tearing his eyes away and throwing the duvet over me.
‘Put your arms up.’
I do, and he lifts my sweater over my head.
I don’t think he means to turn me on, but the roughness of his hands make me ache for him.
I lie back on the bed.
‘Marc. I’m awake. I promise.’
He goes to the bedroom window, loosening his tie and kicking off his shoes. Then he stares out at the dark London sky.
‘Aren’t you coming to bed?’ I ask.
Marc turns. ‘I was going to wait until you’d fallen asleep,’ he says. ‘So I won’t be tempted.’
‘You can be tempted,’ I say.
He smiles. ‘If you knew what I had planned, you wouldn’t be saying that. Trust me. You’re too tired.’
‘I’m not.’
He comes to sit on the bed, reaching out a hand to stroke my cheek. ‘My job is to take care of you. And right now I’m taking care of your physical health instead of your physical pleasure.’
‘Kiss me,’ I say.
‘Sophia—’
‘Please.’
Marc’s hand hesitates on my cheek. His eyes burn. Then slowly, he leans forwards and presses his lips against mine – a long, slow goodnight kiss.
I love the feeling of his lips. Before I can think about it, my mouth opens and I’m kissing him fully, passionately, reaching around his shoulders to pull him closer.
‘God,’ Marc moans into my mouth, kissing me back, pushing me hard into the bed. ‘Sophia, you might regret this.’
‘I won’t.’
Marc unbuttons his shirt and flings it off, kissing me harder, sliding his fingers into my hair and clenching his hand into a fist, pulling my hair tight. He moves so his knee comes between my legs and his body weight presses against me.
My scalp stings where he grips my hair, and he tugs his fist down until I moan.
‘Oh, Marc.’
‘I’m not going to do what I planned right now,’ Marc murmurs against my mouth. ‘You’re too tired. But I have to see you come.’
He kisses me harder, clenching his fist tighter. A bruisey pain moves around my scalp and neck, and my head is totally immobilised. I’m held by him, completely in his power, his body weight holding me to the bed.
Marc pushes his knee harder between my legs while he pins my shoulders to the bed with one hand and grips my hair with the other. I’m getting so wet that I know my panties are almost soaked through.
‘Oh god Marc, please,’ I beg. ‘Please fuck me.’
Marc’s hand moves between my legs and I gasp and moan as he pushes my panties aside and forces three fingers deep inside me in one swift, hard movement.
‘Oh,’ I moan.
He turns his fingers back and forth. Then he slips in a forth finger, and I lose all sense of anything except pleasure building up. I’m sore and full all at the same time, and it feels so good.
‘Tell me if this is too much,’ Marc whispers. I feel his thumb push inside me too, and sink into the bed with pleasure and pain.
‘It’s ... I think I can take it,’ I gasp. ‘For ... now.’
Marc pushes further, further inside, his eyes locked on mine.
I swallow and shake my head, knowing if he twists his hand like he did before, I won’t be able to take it. But he doesn’t move. He stays still, watching me, his eyes fierce.
‘One day I’ll have you begging for my whole hand to be inside you,’ he says. ‘But not today.’
He pulls his hand out in such a rush that I’m left throbbing and desperate for him.
‘Fuck me Marc, please,’ I beg.
8
Marc undoes his trousers, letting go of my hair to
struggle out of them. He takes off his boxers too, and I see him, huge and hard, before he climbs back on top of me.
His long arm reaches out to grab a condom from the bedside table drawer, and he rips open the foil and stretches latex over himself.
I open my legs for him, and he groans as he comes into contact with my damp skin. ‘Very accommodating Miss Rose. Very, very accommodating.’
He teases me for a moment, rubbing his hardness around.
‘Please fuck me,’ I say again. ‘Please. Please.’
Marc thrusts into me. He pushes deep, going all the way inside, further than his fingers could ever manage, reaching dark, sultry places that make my whole body tingle.
‘Oh,’ I moan, as he fills me up. He’s pushing against me, all of me, his groin hard against mine, rubbing me inside and out, and I’m pinned to the bed, trapped by him. I know as soon as he moves I’m going to come. But just like before, he holds me still for a moment, teasing.
‘I wish I had your self control,’ I whisper.
Marc’s eyes are fierce, and he replies through gritted teeth, ‘I don’t have much of it left. Believe me.’
He slides his hand into my hair again and pulls it tight like before.
‘Oh god,’ I cry, as he gives my hair a tug.
He starts to move, and with every stroke he pulls my hair harder, until my head begins to move with him and a delicious, dominant pain spreads down my neck.
The pain stops me from coming straight away, but oh god ... the pleasure. Every push inside me, every tightening of his hand around my hair, is making me delirious and I’m lost in him, just like always.
Marc’s eyes don’t leave mine as he pumps back and forth, forcing my head to move with him, causing electric shocks all over my body.
When he slips his other hand around and grasps my buttocks, forcing his fingers right into the flesh hard enough to bruise, I can’t hold on anymore. I want to scream out with how good it feels.
‘Oh, oh,’ I gasp, looking into his eyes and seeing he’s close to coming too.
‘Sophia,’ he moans, his eyes melting and softening, his fingers grasping my buttocks so firmly that he’s almost lifting me off the bed.
He gives one mighty thrust, hitting everything in just the right way.
And I come.
