by Mandy Lee
Chapter Seventeen
When I open my eyes again, I stretch out a hand, only to find that the bed’s empty. He’s not here. Noticing that I’ve been covered up with a silky, cream coloured throw, I lean up on my elbows and gaze out of the window. Now, either that’s a sunset or it’s dawn. And considering the fact that I feel thoroughly refreshed and distinctly ravenous, I’m willing to bet on the latter. Heaving myself out of bed, I make my way over to the window and peer at the clock face on Big Ben. Yes, it is dawn. In fact, it’s nearly half past four and streaks of red are already beginning to nudge their way across London’s rooftops.
I glance around the bedroom, discovering that he’s tidied up. Even my own pile of clothes on the chaise longue has been refolded, only neatly this time. I smile to myself. So, the man’s used to control and order and tidiness. Well, if he’s letting me into his world, then he’s got an awful big shock on the way. Moving over to the wardrobe, I open it up and select a fresh, white shirt. I pull it on and make my way downstairs to find him. The kitchen and living area are empty, but the glass doors that lead out from the kitchen onto a verandah are open, and I can see him out there. Dressed in a pair of jogging bottoms and a grey T-shirt, he’s leaning against a low wall, gazing out across the Thames. I tiptoe my way to the threshold and pause, careful not to let him know that I’m nearby. I want a glimpse of Daniel Foster unguarded, and I want to know what the hell he’s up to, dragging himself out of bed at this time in the morning. To his left, there’s an expensive looking set of outdoor furniture: two sunbeds, one raised into a sitting position, and a low, black marble table where a laptop has been left open next to a coffee cup. I edge my way forwards now, close enough to see that his hands are clasped on the wall in front of him, that his lips are parted slightly, and that his eyes seem lost. The moody, overworked businessman is gone. And so is the controlling, arrogant sex fiend. All I can see now in front of me is loneliness, and all I want to do is wrap my arms around him.
‘Dan?’
He gives a start and turns. Immediately, a smile spreads across his face, masking the loneliness, shutting it away from view.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Watching the sun come up.’ He holds out an arm, beckoning for me to join him. I shuffle forwards into his embrace. It’s warm and cosy and comfortable. He wraps an arm around me and pulls me against his chest, turning me towards the river.
‘I didn’t want to wake you,’ he nuzzles into my ear. ‘I had some work to do.’ His arm tightens and it’s a good couple of minutes before he speaks again. ‘Look at that. It’s beautiful.’
The morning sun begins to pour its warmth across the rooftops.
‘It is beautiful,’ I whisper back.
‘You should paint it one day. Capture the light.’
I shrug my shoulders.
‘Do you watch the sun come up every morning?’ I ask.
‘In the summer, yes, most days. I love the way colour comes back into the world.’
‘Very poetic,’ I laugh. He rewards me with a pinch.
‘Every day is a new beginning.’ I turn back to find him squinting across the river. ‘This is the first time I’ve shared this view.’
I feel a rush of warmth in my heart, and suddenly I’m brave. ‘Just now … I was watching you. You looked a bit … I don’t know … lost.’
His arms grow tense. I hear him sigh. ‘I’m fine.’ He turns me round. Fixing me with a grip on either arm, he locks me in with his eyes. ‘Promise me you won’t run again.’
So is that it? He’s worried that he’s going to lose me?
‘I’m not going anywhere.’
He nods slowly, lowers his face to mine and kisses me gently, sweetly. When he pulls back, he gazes into my eyes.
‘So, what have you been up to?’ I nod towards the laptop.
‘Finalising a presentation. We’re bidding for a project in Scotland. I need to go up there for a couple of days. I’m leaving this afternoon.’
‘Okay.’
My heart slumps. Already, I’m wondering how on Earth I’m going to survive more than a few hours apart from him. But that’s the nature of his job and the nature of his business. If I’m going to be sticking around, then I guess I’ll just have to get used to it.
‘I didn’t say anything before,’ he goes on. ‘I didn’t think I needed to. But now … well.’ He reaches up and moves my hair back from my face. ‘What are you doing this weekend?’
‘Nothing planned.’
‘Then you’re spending it with me.’ He squeezes my arm. ‘I get back early on Saturday morning. Give me a chance to get changed and then I’ll come and pick you up.’ He kisses my forehead. ‘Wear jeans and a T-shirt.’
I scowl up at him and he digs me in the side, causing me to giggle. He smiles for a moment, then leans down, softly touching his lips against mine, coaxing them to open. I groan in pleasure as his hands skim over my shoulders and around my back. My own hands travel up his back, feeling their way across his shoulders, down to his waist and his firm backside.
‘You need some food inside you,’ he whispers.
‘I need some you inside me.’
‘Filthy woman. Are you demanding sex?’
‘I think I am. Does that get me a spank?’
‘Not this morning.’
Before I can ask if he’s sure about that, he lifts the shirt over my head and drops it to the floor. He sighs contentedly and cups my right breast, working his hands round and round, stopping every now and then to pull gently at my nipple. I glance around, anxiously checking for nosy neighbours.
‘Don’t worry, Maya. No one can see.’
He leans in for a long, deep kiss and a shimmer of excitement runs through my veins. Moving his right hand to my crotch, he begins to circle a finger slowly against my clitoris, while his tongue works its way around my mouth. I feel his left hand on my back, surprised by its warmth. I pull his T-shirt over his head while he shrugs off his joggers, revealing a huge morning erection.
‘Somebody’s pleased to see me,’ I smile.
‘He’s always pleased to see you. And he wants you from behind. Right here, holding onto this wall.’
He spins me round and while I rest my hands against the wall, he gently eases my legs apart. Clamping one arm around my stomach, he begins to massage my clitoris, circling his finger slowly in exactly the right spot. I close my eyes and moan into the cold, morning air, sensing that familiar thrum of pleasure as it sparks into life. I feel the warm palm of his free hand as it touches the base of my spine and then tracks its way up towards my neck. He leans forwards, his erection pressing against my backside. I’m getting goose bumps, and I don’t know whether it’s from the building excitement, or the chill in the air. His lips dance across my skin, warm by comparison, and silky soft.
‘Ready?’ he asks quietly.
‘Ready.’
Both hands are removed from my body and I miss them immediately. He guides my legs further apart and his fingers slip between my thighs, running lightly down the space between my back passage and my vagina. He pushes a finger inside, making sure that I’m as good as my word.
‘You’re so wet, Maya. Do I excite you that much?’
‘Yes, you bloody well do,’ I groan.
‘And you excite me too. I can barely control myself when I’m with you. Do you want me to fuck you now?’
‘Yes, please!’ I half shout.
The end of his cock nudges at my opening and he enters me, slowly, edging his way inside, moving his hands to my hips and holding me firm.
‘Hang on to that wall,’ he warns me.
I pull my hands back, holding on to the edge of the parapet. And then he begins, driving all the way in, filling me up completely. My breath comes in short gasps as he withdraws and pushes again. He picks up the rhythm, pulling out and thrusting back inside me, never missing a beat. And oh God, the pressure builds quickly until I don’t know if I can bear it any longer, but I know the deal now. I ha
ve to hang on until he tells me it’s time. He wants us to come together, and I’m going to see that it happens. He grips me harder and the thrusting comes to a halt. What the hell’s going on now? Slowly, he grinds himself around. It’s agonising, but wonderful. The pressure subsides and a new, deeper sensation takes its place. I cry out and tighten my grip on the wall. My insides must be lighting up like a Christmas tree now. He’s dragging this out, prolonging the pleasure for both of us. At last, just when I’m at the point of screaming out for him to finish me off, he launches back into his relentless pounding, ratcheting up the speed and the power.
‘Now!’ he cries out.
I let go for all I’m worth, and while he explodes inside me, I’m blown away by an onslaught of sensations. Everything is pulsating now, everything quivering. My arms are weak and my head is light. My knees buckle beneath me and his hands tighten around my hips, steadying me.
‘Woah, woman!’
He withdraws and pulls me upright, holding me close against his chest.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes,’ I gasp. ‘You nearly fucked me unconscious.’
Still panting, still trying to wrestle his breath back under control, he laughs.
‘I told you, you need some food inside you. I bet you haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.’
I scramble through my brain, only to find that he’s absolutely right. In almost twenty four hours, I’ve had nothing but a slice of toast.
‘Look at that.’ He waves a hand at the scene in front of us.
I gaze out over the river to where a sheen of soft, bright sunlight tumbles across the rooftops. Gently lifting London back out of the shadows, it winks its way across the windows, casting a soft, golden glow against stonework.
‘A new beginning,’ he murmurs. ‘The colour’s back.’
The sunlight tumbles further, over the water, dancing and flipping its way from the north bank to the south. So, what does he mean by that? A new beginning for us? And is this a relationship? I’d like to ask, but it’s probably too soon. I turn to find him gazing out over the river, a smile on his soft lips, and I feel new sensation in my heart, as if it’s swelling, as if my rib cage isn’t going to be able to contain it for much longer. It can’t be possible. This must be some sort of chemical reaction because it’s way too soon for the L word. And how long have I known him now? It’s hardly long enough for that.
‘I need a shower.’ I lean my head back into his chest. In actual fact, I don’t want to move at all. A curious calm has descended over me and I just want to stay here all day.
‘A shower?’ he grins down at me. ‘I’ve got one of those.’
He leads me inside, back upstairs and into the en-suite. He turns on the shower, checks the temperature and then motions for me to enter. As soon as I’m under the warm rush of water, his hands circle my waist, gently feeling their way across my contours. He turns me round and tips my head upwards so that my eyes meet his, landing a soft kiss on my lips before he reaches for the body wash. Squeezing out a handful, he begins to massage my shoulders, working his way downwards, covering every single square inch of my torso, working from my back, round to my front, smoothing his palms up my stomach and out over my breasts. Finally, he washes between my legs and I’m on fire immediately, groaning like a hussy. His free hand cups the back of my head. Pulling me in towards him, he covers my lips with his mouth, grinding his kiss into me as he kneads his palm against my clitoris. His hard body is against mine, his taut muscles pressing against me firmly. He urges my legs further apart and I feel him against my opening. Jesus, he wants more? Well, he can go ahead, because I definitely do. I open wider and he enters me, pushing me back against the cold tiles.
He thrusts deep inside me and I clasp my arms around his shoulders, clinging on for dear life. He’s clearly in the mood for hard. He thrusts again and I yelp at the force. He’s pounding me now, right up to my limit. Picking up the pace, he thrusts again and again, sliding me up the tiles and then back down, finding a spot immediately, his cock moving over it, working me up into a pulsating knot inside.
‘Hold on,’ he growls into my ear.
He withdraws to the hilt and pauses, staring into my eyes. Just that look could send me over the edge. I try my damnedest to control myself, but a wave of heat is already rising in my groin. He thrusts deeper this time, withdraws and thrusts again.
‘Shit … I …’
He covers my mouth again, pounding harder while I clutch at his shoulders, trying to gain some sort of hold. At last, he pulls his mouth away and locks eyes with me. And I don’t know how it happens, but I know instinctively that he’s right on the edge. He holds his breath, his mouth open, every muscle in his body tightened in pleasure. I let go with all my might. My muscles spasm and clutch at his cock, holding on to him greedily as he comes inside me.
‘Bloody hell,’ he breathes, digging his head into my neck. ‘I’m never going to get into work at this rate.’
He holds me against the tiles, still twitching inside me
‘Well that’s your own fault,’ I taunt him.
‘I only meant to wash you down. As soon as I touched you, I had to go the whole fucking way.’
‘You should exercise a little more self-control.’
‘That’s impossible when you’re around.’ He pulls himself out of me. ‘Come here.’
He turns me to face away from him and begins to massage shampoo into my hair.
‘Don’t let me see your boobs again, or I’ll want another go.’ He rinses my hair and then steps under the water himself. ‘You’d better get out. Dry yourself down and get dressed quickly, before I get another hard on.’
I dry myself off with an unbelievably huge, luxurious towel and then I wrap it around myself. He’s out of the shower quickly. I’m just about to squeeze toothpaste on my finger and run it around in my mouth when he signals for me to stop. Rummaging around in some space age bathroom cabinet, he takes out a spare toothbrush. I use it. He takes it from me and places it in the holder, next to his own. While he shaves, I return to the bedroom and drag a comb through my hair, cursing its length and promising myself that I’m going to get it cut soon. He produces a hairdryer and I set myself to the task of getting my locks into some order. Finally satisfied that I’m vaguely presentable from the neck up, I put on yesterday’s clothes and take myself down to the kitchen. I find him seated at the breakfast bar, looking delectable in one of his trademark black suits. He watches me over the rim of his coffee cup.
‘What can I get you to eat?’ he asks.
‘Toast, please.’
‘But you’ve barely eaten anything.’ He gets up from the stool. ‘What you need is a full English fry-up.’
‘Toast will do just fine.’
Shrugging his shoulders, he sets about retrieving bread from a cupboard and popping it into a toaster. It’s the most mundane act in the world, but Jesus, I could get used to this, watching a sex god making me toast first thing in the morning.
‘Coffee?’
I nod, ogling his backside as he takes a cup from a cupboard, places it under the spout of a coffee machine and presses a button. ‘I’m afraid it only does Americano, unless I recalibrate the fucking thing and kick it a few times.’ I avert my eyes quickly when he turns and brings the coffee over, positioning it on the worktop in front of me. He kisses me gently on the cheek and a shimmer passes right through my body. Oh yes, I could definitely get used to this. ‘I’ll take you up to Camden,’ he says. ‘We’ve got time. You’ll need a clean pair of knickers.’
‘That’s thoughtful of you.’
‘If you were a man, you’d just turn them inside out and wear them for another day.’
‘Yeuch.’ I screw up my face. ‘That’s disgusting.’
‘You know, you could always leave some clothes here.’ He glances away, out of the window. Looking distinctly uncomfortable, he unfastens the top button of his shirt.
‘I could do.’
‘I mean …
if you’re going to be round here on a regular basis ...’
If I’m going to be round here on a regular basis? My heart skips several beats. Now, I’m pretty sure that’s not womaniser talk. In fact, I’m absolutely sure that’s relationship talk.
Chapter Eighteen
An hour later, I lower myself into the leather passenger seat of the Mercedes, safe and cosy in its sumptuous luxury. It’s early and we make it to Camden in good time. He parks the car right outside my flat, in spite of my warnings about killer traffic wardens. Inside, I lead him to my bedroom where he settles himself on my bed, leaning back against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him and his arms crossed lazily behind his head. I stare at him for a moment, taking in every last bit of his male perfection, wondering how I’ve managed to land a man like this. And as if he’s read my thoughts, he narrows his eyes back at me.
‘Knickers,’ he snaps. ‘No more sex.’
‘Selfish bastard.’
I click my tongue in disgust and set about finding clean underwear. While I’m at it, I change into the clean skirt and blouse that Lucy’s left for me. When I’ve finished, I turn back to find him staring intently at the family photographs that I keep on my bedside table. He reaches over, selecting one in particular, and picks it up for closer inspection.
‘Who’s this?’
He turns the photo and I shake my head.
‘Who do you think?’
He turns the photo back towards himself. His lips seem to twitch.
‘Your sister.’
‘The one and only. She was about ten in that picture.’
He stares at the photograph for a long time, running his index finger across his lips, deep in thought.
‘You said she was better looking than you,’ he says at last.
I open my underwear drawer and search through its contents, finally settling on a pair of black, lacy knickers. Once he sees me in these, he might just change his mind about the ‘no more sex’ thing.
‘She was, and she still is,’ I mutter. Pulling off yesterday’s pair, I sling them into a corner.
