Belonging: Two hearts, two continents, one all-consuming passion. (Victoria in Love Book 1)

by Isabella Wiles

  I’ve never felt an attraction like this. I’m feeling a complex mix of emotions which both scares and excites me equally. I can’t name these feelings, but whatever they’re called, they feel bigger than me, like something uncontrollable has taken over my body and my mind. I can’t decide whether he has woken that something that was lying dormant within me, found the way to unlock my heart, or whether opening up to Chris has allowed something else to take over. An external force, an uncontrollable beast that has entered my body and taken possession of my mind. Whatever it is, it feels dangerous, uncontrollable, but at the same time I’ve also never felt so alive. Suddenly the world seems brighter, louder and more vibrant.

  Chris’s eyes flutter as he begins to bridge the void between sleep and consciousness. His eyes open slowly, focusing on my face and he smiles instinctively. Without saying a word, he leans forward, kisses me fully on the lips and then pulls me up onto his stomach as he rolls onto his back. Running his hands gently up and down my spine, through my hair, stroking my skin with his fingertips, he asks,

  “Good morning, Vic-to-ria. Now, has anyone ever shown you how to really give pleasure to a man?”

  “No,” I reply hesitantly, almost embarrassed by my obvious inexperience, “but I want you to teach me,” I say looking directly into his eyes as I think back again to Sylvie Guillem and how she commanded the men in the ensemble of the Boléro. Can Chris show me not only how to tap into my own deepest sexual desires, but how to find those same powers that lie buried beneath the surface in him?

  And with that I become his student once again, learning this time how to explore a man’s body, his body. He teaches me how to find his pleasure spots, how hard or fast, soft or slow I need to move my body in order to increase his intensity. How to use my hands, my fingers, my mouth, my tongue, even my long hair to tease, stroke and caress him and his manhood, until he can hold back no more. I feel an intense sense of gratification as eventually his body stiffens and shakes as his orgasm takes hold, saying my name passionately as he comes.

  “Oh God, Vicky,” he shouts loudly as he achieves his final release.

  Afterwards, we settle in for an early morning cuddle. He brushes my hair in long soothing strokes, as I continue to outline the shape of his smooth chest with my fingers.

  “Now THAT is the best way to start any day,” he says in his broad New Zealand accent, so that the ‘a’ in ‘that’ sounds more that ‘thit’, making me smile. I lean forward and give him a peck on the lips.

  “My pleasure… anytime,” the confidence of my words nowhere near matching how I actually feel.

  This is new territory for me. Never would I have said anything like that before last night, but then again never have I allowed anyone to get this close to me before, or for me to have been that forward with a man before.

  Everything with Chris feels like uncharted new territory and I also know I’m feeling emotions for Chris that I’ve never felt with anyone else. I only hope his intentions are sincere, that the truth I saw in his eyes that first night is genuine and the fear that whipped through me when Mel shared her opinion with me only a few days ago is not true, otherwise she will be left picking up the pieces in a couple of months’ time.

  Even in this short period of time, I too know I’ve fallen so deep that I can’t back out now, even if it was or is the right thing to do.

  Chapter 13

  Chris

  Six months later

  “The stars are so bright tonight,” Vicky says as we lie together and lovingly interlace our gloved hands. “Do you ever wonder what else is out there, Chris? Or how big the universe is? Or how on earth we somehow found our way into each other’s arms from the complete opposite sides of the world?”

  I lean over and kiss the top of her head, brushing my lips softly against her long silky hair which escapes from above the muffs that are protecting her ears against the sharp cold air. “You’re so funny, Vicky. I’m a bloke remember, we don’t think about stuff like that. You’re lucky if I can think long enough to work out what’s for dinner!”

  “I know. But when you see the millions of stars up there, doesn’t it make you feel so small, so insignificant? Like so much of life is pure chance. Like meeting you was pure chance.”

  “You’re never insignificant to me, Vicky,” I say, one arm wrapped around behind her as I gently stroke the outside of her arm as we cuddle up together. “You’re my whole world. I don’t need to look at the stars to wonder about the meaning of life, or what else is out there. I’ve said it before, but I have everything I need right here.”

  She leans up, rolling towards me to look directly into my face, her chin resting on my chest, the moon illuminating her beautiful green eyes. “I love you, Chris,” she says sincerely, her warm breath visible in the cold night air.

  “I love you too,” I reply, enveloping her in a deep embrace. Joy and an overwhelming love seeping out from my heart enveloping us both.

  We’re wrapped up like cocoons against the cold. It’s the evening of New Year’s Day, a new uncharted, exciting, yet uncertain year stretching out ahead before us. A fresh year inviting us to make something of it. We’re lying outside on sun-loungers in the garden at Wootton Bassett, snuggled deep inside warm blankets, duvets and pillows as we gaze starwards, hot toddies and our love for each other keeping us warm. We’ve just come back together after spending Christmas and New Year apart.

  I spent Christmas with my grandparents, joining my UK based family and my sisters in Wiltshire. New Year’s Eve was spent with Mellie at the Gray’s, while Vicky spent the Christmas season in the north with her family, driving the long journey south earlier today. It’s the first time I’ve joined my UK based rellies for Christmas and the first time I’ve ever had a cold Christmas. Normally, we’re on the beach playing volleyball or surfing after we’ve had Christmas dinner at home, so it was a new experience to celebrate a traditional English Christmas in cold weather. It’s also the first time I’ve been in a serious relationship with someone that I love over the Christmas season, so as much as I enjoyed spending time with my British relatives, playing charades and watching the traditional family films on the telly after Christmas lunch, the person I really wanted to share it all with was at the opposite end of the country dutifully celebrating with her own family.

  “God I’ve missed you, Chris. I know it was only a week but it felt like forever,” she says her head buried deep into my shoulder, the intoxicating byzantine fragrance of her perfume that I now know to be Coco Chanel dances up my nostrils. Instinctively I inhale her deeply. “I have no idea how I’m going to cope when you have to go back to New Zealand again. I just can’t bear to think about it.” Both of us are acutely aware of the red circled date on the calendar in the kitchen that draws ever nearer, alerting us to the date we will be parted yet again.

  “You’ll be right, ya olde goose,” I try to lighten the mood. Ya olde goose, having long become my affectionate pet name for her. The truth is, I don’t want to think about it either. It physically pains me to be parted from Vicky, but I have no other choice. “Don’t think about that now. Instead think about our cheeky holiday in Hong Kong next week and be happy for the time we do have left.”

  When I leave again it will only be the third time we’ve been parted since we first got together last summer. Once to return home to New Zealand for five weeks and the second was only this past week. I knew immediately, even after those few hedonistic days and weeks together last summer, that I had no intention of breaking things off with Vicky and returning home permanently as I’d originally planned. So my first priority was to change my travel plans to stay in the UK as long as I could. I immediately extended the return leg of my air ticket to its maximum validity to give me time to work on the second priority, which was to find a way to earn some cash to support myself.

  So not long after, I called Mike and asked for his advice further, popping up to visit him and Fiona before taking my first tentative steps into the luxury second-ha
nd car market. I’ve since become a slave to the weekly Autotrader, walking every Thursday morning at the crack of dawn to my now friendly shopkeeper on the Wootton Bassett high street, who keeps a copy ready for me coming in, before I spend the next 48 hours hunting out the best deals to buy. Mondays and Tuesdays are the days I visit the auctions, having worked out the best ones to attend. Most people think you need to be a good salesman to make money in this game, but actually the skill is in buying the right stock and at the right price. I’ve walked away from ten times more deals than cars I’ve bought and as a result I’ve made profit or at least broken even on every deal I’ve done in the past six months, making just enough dough to be able to live off. Flipping cars isn’t my long-term plan. I know I won’t be able to make sufficient income to build a life for Vicky and I, but at least it means I’ve found a way for us to stay together in the short-term, giving our relationship the time it needed to develop.

  After my first couple of deals flipping cars here, my confidence increased, and I was willing to invest more capital to buy more stock. By then I had researched the possibility to make much deeper margins by purchasing stock in the UK before shipping them back home to sell. In New Zealand it’s virtually impossible to buy luxury European cars, so much of the market is flooded with Australian and Japanese imports and so the demand for high-end/low-mileage top of the range BMWs and Porsches is high. Even taking into account the shipping costs, import tariffs and of course assuming the currency exchange rate stays where it is, I can make sometimes up to twice as much profit with the right stock, than if I continued flipping cars here.

  So I invested all of my available capital and Vicky has also given me some of her inheritance from when her grandfather passed away, to purchase four cars initially, arranging the first shipment to coincide with my initial return to NZ when my air ticket ran out in the autumn. Once I arrived it only took me five weeks in total to sell them and bank the profit, before buying a new air fare and returning back to Vicky as fast as was humanly possible.

  It’s while I was away that it happened, a one-time thing - a momentary slip. A drunken night out and a moment’s lapse of concentration, fuelled rather than by sexual desire ironically by loneliness and how desperately we missed each other in the here and now.

  Obviously, it caused a massive upset and we almost broke up over it, but ironically it was the fact that I did something I vowed I would never do; I read Vicky’s journal, which although she was livid at the time, meant that I was able to understand how she was thinking and feeling and I could understand it from her perspective. Thankfully after a lot of talking and forgiveness we’ve moved beyond that now. It wasn’t nice dealing with the aftermath of an infidelity, there is no doubt that it breaks the fragile bond of trust in a relationship, but I believe we are stronger now as a result. If anything, the real possibility of us breaking up made us both appreciate each other much more. It’s turned what initially started out as a passionate and intense summer romance, into something much, much deeper and much more serious. We both love each other with a passion and an intensity that neither of us have experienced before.

  Right now I have another seven cars on their way to New Zealand due to land in Lyttleton in six weeks’ time, and we have one more car to take down to Tilbury docks on the east side of London, the day we come back from Hong Kong. Of the cars I’m taking back with me this time, two were placed to order by specialist car dealers in NZ, the others I’ll need to sell privately once I fly home.

  We continue to hug each other, my hand tucking a random strand of hair behind her ear before we lean into each other to kiss once again. As her lips brush against mine, I gently bite her bottom lip, her mouth opening in response to receive me, and I feel her softening into me. A lot has happened in the past six months, but one thing that has remained constant is the unbelievable physical connection between us. I absolutely love watching her lose control as she is beginning to do now as we hug each other tightly and continue to kiss urgently.

  I feel her breath quicken, hear the low groan that escapes from her as she responds to my touch. I control her now, the power I hold having increased as our relationship developed and as she continued to open up to me. It’s a visceral response within her, one which I command, and holding that power gives me immense pleasure and a responsibility I hold with great reverence.

  It all started way back during that night. Something happened during that night, the night we refer to as our night, when we spent almost all night making love and exploring each other’s bodies a few days after we first got together at Michelle’s 30th birthday weekend. We both felt it, the axis of our respective worlds having shifted. Our energies intertwined in a way that neither of us had ever experienced before, despite the blip a few months ago. I haven’t told her yet, but I intend to marry this woman and for her to become the mother of my children. I made that decision the moment we both recommitted 100 percent to our relationship when I returned in the autumn.

  “I’m all in,” she had said at the time, after we’d shouted angrily at each other, before eventually talking everything through in calmer tones. We spent that night sobbing on each other’s shoulders at the trust that had been broken, at the innocence lost, thankfully eventually reaching a place of forgiveness by morning, hugging each other tightly, knowing that we had gone to the brink before making it back safely. Our relationship having just survived the toughest test, at least thus far.

  “Likewise, I’ll do whatever it takes to build the trust back,” I responded sincerely.

  I haven't talked to her about marriage yet, or for our plans much more than the next six months. I don’t want to scare Vicky as I don’t believe she’s ready to make that level of commitment yet, especially not after what has happened. I sense there is a darkness buried deep within her, there is something in her past she’s not shared with me but despite all her seemingly outward bravado and confidence, she has a very low opinion of herself. But one day when the time is right I plan to whisk her away to The Cayman Islands, propose and slip a huge diamond on her finger. I want the whole world to know that she belongs to me and no one else.

  I know I’m not her first serious relationship, but I intend to be her last. I knew she’d had a couple of relationships before meeting me and even though we’d slept together on the air bed on Michelle’s living room floor before our night back here in Wootton Bassett for me at least, that night felt like it was her first time. Not just with me, but her first time ever. Like watching a delicate flower open. I’ve never had a woman respond to me like that. It was, it is, something really very special. As if it was meant to be. As if we are the living cliché of the phrase ‘destined to be together’. The chances of us having ever met does feel like the planets crashed into each other at just the right moment, aligning our worlds and bringing us together. So even though I resist answering Vicky’s questions as we gaze up at the stars, there is a part of me that does believe our stars were aligned and it was destiny that brought us together.

  I’m not particularly worldly wise when it comes to the opposite sex, although I know I’ve probably had a bit more experience than Vicky has - in the sack at least. There was of course my first. A quick fumble after a school disco when I was seventeen. A few more fumbles later, but nothing of great significance, then along came Sharon and we did go steady for about a year or so. Sharon was nice, and we got along well, but eventually we bored of each other and we went our separate ways.

  I suppose Lyndsey is the woman and the relationship that has shaped me the most prior to Vicky. Eight years older than me, she taught me a thing or two. I suppose I became her muse, as she taught me how to explore and appreciate her body, but she never let me into her mind and that was what fascinated me the most, kept me wanting to go back. She controlled our relationship and I was never able to unravel her. Being older than I, it was never going to work long-term. She needed someone who wanted to settle down, set up home and make babies, and that definitely was not me (at least no
t with her), so eventually we parted amicably and since then, other than the odd booty call back with Lyndsey and a few short interludes here and there, like the quick root in Greece, there has been no one of substance. No one until Vicky that is.

  There’s no doubt that my initial attraction to her was instant and physical. She has such a strong magnetism I just can’t understand why she’s only dated complete wankers in the past. Physically she’s gorgeous, although she doesn’t see it. Her smile has the power to light up any room. I can still remember that very first time I saw her, sat behind her desk at work - all formal and frigid. My first thought was, I wonder what she looks like naked. All smooth cream skin and soft round curves I had imagined, and I wondered what it would be like to take her. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined being with her would be as amazing as it is. We make love virtually every day, often twice, sometimes more, and it’s fantastic. I simply can’t get enough of her. I’ve never had such an insatiable appetite with anyone else. I only have to see a glimpse of a part of her body, never mind seeing her fully naked and my desire is all-consuming. A naked shoulder is all it takes to turn me into a hot-blooded stallion pursuing a mare who’s in heat. I’ve never experienced desire like it. Fortunately, she always responds to my advances but what she doesn’t realise is that just as I have the power to control her own physical desire she also controls mine - just by being who she is.

  However, there’s so much more to her than just her smooth skin and soft round curves. She’s also clever, funny, warm, articulate, well-read and cultured - way more cultured than I. She knows things that I have absolutely no idea about, so our conversations are so interesting as we share our very different opinions on a wide range of diverse topics. Everything from politics, to feminism, to sport, to world events, to climate change, music and even the arts - which I know absolutely zilch about. She’s educating me, stimulating my mind in ways and in topics that up until now I’ve been completely oblivious to. Already she’s having an impact on how I see the world around me, which is new and interesting, and I like it. She has changed me and made me a better person.