A Twist of Fate

by Demelza Hart

  ‘You need to put him out of his misery if you’re not sure. It’s not fair.’ I couldn’t look at her from guilt. ‘What about this Paul guy? He seems nice.’ She didn’t ask it like everyone else had, pushing me to answer. She was stating what she’d observed.

  I glanced up. ‘He is, but …’

  ‘But?’ Her expression was curious, as if she couldn’t see a ‘but’.

  ‘No. It would never work. We’re so different.’

  She shrugged, a frown on her face. ‘You’re very easy with each other. What does it matter?’

  I smiled ruefully.

  ‘Was there really nothing that happened on that island? You can tell me.’

  I shook my head.

  Her eyebrows rose up and she pouted. ‘More fool you. I fancy him rotten. A man who can do what he did must be great in bed.’

  I glanced at my watch. The man in question was waiting for me, and so was his bed. ‘Sorry I can’t stay long.’

  ‘That’s fine. I have a date with a Dane anyway.’ She smiled and winked.

  ‘Oh, that Lars guy you mentioned from work?’

  ‘That’s the one. Lars by name, large by nature.’ She clicked her tongue gleefully.

  I threw my head back and laughed. ‘You know how to pick them.’

  ‘So would you if you had any sense.’

  ‘Well … we’ll see.’ I stood up to leave. ‘It’s so good seeing you. I’ll be in touch soon.’

  ‘I can’t believe how well you’re looking, Callie. Aren’t you supposed to be sunken-eyed and traumatised or something?’

  ‘The only trauma I feel is the guilt of not feeling traumatised. Is that wrong? Should I be curled up in the foetal position in bed all day?’

  ‘Not unless you’re getting ready for Paul Mason to crawl into bed beside you and roger you senseless.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Honestly. What are you like? There’s more to life than sex.’

  ‘True. But if the sex is right, everything else is so much easier.’

  It made sense. I wanted to open my arms and shout, ‘Exactly!’, telling her, the world, and most importantly, myself. But I blew her a kiss, told her I’d text, and left.

  I headed straight to Paul’s. We were still careful. The paps lurked, especially as the show was being broadcast that evening. He’d left the fire exit slightly ajar, and I crept in and up to his door. I knocked, feeling like a sort of secret agent of sex. I wrinkled my face at my own nerves. It wasn’t just the apprehension over what we were going to do later (after all, I’d asked for it) but at the fact that I felt nervous at all. Get over it, Callie!

  But once he opened the door and smiled, it was all forgotten. I walked in and we were kissing and nothing else mattered.

  ‘Hello,’ he whispered into my ear.

  ‘Hi.’ I smiled back. ‘Ready for our brush with show business?’

  He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Suppose I’ll have to be. You eaten? Got some risotto.’

  ‘Ooh, sounds nice. I thought you only made tomato pasta.’

  ‘I’ve been practising.’ He grinned, leading me through to the kitchen where he put a cold glass of white wine in my hand. ‘Pinot Grigio – that all right?’

  I smiled. ‘Perfect. You know how to keep a girl happy.’

  ‘As long as I keep you happy.’

  He went through into the living room and sat down. I followed him but stood for a time, staring into the glass. Why hadn’t I ended it fully with Rupert? Why was it that when I was with Paul everything was perfect and as soon as I left him doubt crept back? And yet here I was, about to give myself to him at my most vulnerable, my most intimate. Cautious Callie. I wouldn’t let a man do that if I didn’t trust him completely. I did trust him, there was no doubt.

  But I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t trust myself to deviate from the path.

  He smirked up at me. ‘Do I smell?’

  ‘No.’ I laughed.

  ‘What you waiting for then? Come and sit down. I’ve missed feeling you against me.’

  I needed no more. I kicked off my shoes and came to curl up next to him on the sofa. We watched the end of some vacuous action movie together and then the Jack Northam Show was announced by the continuity reader.

  ‘Oh God. What if we look like idiots?’ I said through biting my lip.

  ‘So what if we do?’

  ‘Don’t you care?’

  He looked at me. ‘Course I don’t care. You know that.’

  ‘Wish I had your confidence.’

  ‘It’s not confidence; it’s being thick-skinned. Comes with getting too many hard knocks.’

  I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He gave me a little smile, his eyes sparkling in the light from the screen.

  I knew it; I was falling in love with him. I wanted to tell him. But if I voiced it out loud that would make it real, and that would mean I couldn’t change my mind. I hated closing the door completely. Luckily, the voice of Jack Northam brought me back.

  ‘Here we go.’ He held me tighter.

  We were introduced. There we were on screen, Paul’s hand on my elbow looking protective and caring. We smiled; we waved; we managed not to fall over. Again, it was as if I was watching someone else. I could hardly believe it was us.

  ‘Eh, we look all right,’ Paul said with chirpy satisfaction.

  ‘Do my teeth really look like that?’

  The interview went on. I seemed a bit nervous. Paul didn’t. He came across wonderfully. I fancied him all over again and imagined all the rest of the viewers fancying him too. Mine, ladies of Britain, mine. I stroked his chest.

  It was nearly That Moment. I moved slightly, not wanting to press in against him too hard, trying to be casual. I thought about going to the loo at this bit but Paul’s arm was firmly around my shoulders.

  I stared at the screen, wishing I could vanish. ‘But come on, you say nothing happened, but seriously, guys … Moonlight, sea, isolation and look at you, you’re both gorgeous – aren’t they a good looking couple, folks? You cannot honestly tell us nothing happened between you?’

  ‘Nothing happened.’

  ‘Well, what about it now then? We’re all desperate for you to get together, aren’t we? You obviously get on really well and rely on each other. I mean, Callie, he saved your life!’

  ‘She doesn’t owe me anything,’

  ‘Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!’

  ‘No, really! I have a … I have umm …’

  ‘A boyfriend?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Beside me, Paul gave an almost imperceptible sniff. I daren’t look at him. His hand was still on my shoulder. We carried on watching in silence until the musical act started.

  ‘Have you told him?’ he said, jolting me back.

  Please don’t ask me that.

  ‘I’m seeing him tomorrow,’ I said.

  ‘Oh aye.’ He said it with sardonic lack of belief.

  I sat up and looked at him. ‘I’m nearly there.’

  ‘What? Nearly where? You don’t have to be nearly anywhere, you just tell him.’ Rewatching it had made him tetchy again.

  ‘It’s not as easy as that.’

  He huffed and stood up, shaking his head against his annoyance. ‘I wasn’t going to let it bother me.’

  ‘Well, don’t then.’

  He turned and looked down. ‘Why can’t you just do it? Tell him.’

  ‘I will but I told you it may be better to let the public believe it.’

  ‘That’s crap.’ He screwed up his face in confusion. ‘What are you afraid of, Callie?’

  I stood up. ‘I’m not afraid.’

  ‘Yes, you are.’

  I couldn’t cope with him confronting me with my own weakness. I bristled. ‘Don’t be like this. You know nothing about what my life was like before the crash. Everything’s been thrown on its head. Just because you’re perfectly sorted doesn’t mean everyone has to be. Don’t pressure me.’

  I turned in annoyance and headed to the bathroom. Pau
l caught me before I could reach it and I was backed against the wall. He stood, pinning me there by his presence alone. He was a foot or so away, not touching me, but the intensity of his stare rooted me to the spot between him and the wall.

  ‘It’s not pressure, Callie, it’s fear. Is it me? You afraid of me?’ It was like he was daring me to be scared. His body was tight and hard, pulsing with masculine power. It was intimidating. His eyes searched my face, as intense as his physical presence.

  ‘No, of course not.’ But right now, I wasn’t so sure. How well did I really know him? How well did I know what he was really like? I thought back to the newspaper reports. I remembered him pinning Tom to the wall. I wondered what it would feel like if he did that to me. I waited for the abhorrence of the idea to come. It didn’t. Instead, I relished the thought of being held fast by him, rock solid, safe, forever.

  Paul took another step into me, his voice low, barely audible, insistent but caressing at the same time. ‘You’re scared, aren’t you? Scared of what you don’t understand. Scared you’ll lose control.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  ‘I’m not silly. I may be lots of things, but silly sure as fuck isn’t one of them.’

  ‘Don’t talk like that.’

  ‘Like what, Callie Frobisher?’

  ‘You don’t need to throw that word in. It cheapens things.’

  ‘I never throw it in. Every time I use it I use it for a purpose, and so do you. You like it, don’t you? You like it when I fuck you. Because you know I want to fuck you all the time. I want to take you and drive my cock into you. And you want it too. Is that what scares you? The fact that you want me so fucking much. That you can’t stop thinking about us, thinking about our bodies slamming together, trying to disappear into each other?’

  He’d taken my hand by the wrist and guided it to his groin, hard and engorged. ‘You feel that? I’m like that all the time for you. I can’t stop thinking about you, Callie, can’t stop dreaming about you, can’t stop being hard for you.’ He undid his flies and pushed my hand in to feel him. My fingers took over now. Still looking into him, I instinctively found his rock hard flesh and eased it out so that it was free for me to do as I wanted.

  His eyes glazed but the corner of his mouth curled up. ‘See? You want it as much as me.’

  I didn’t answer, but my hand was now stroking the shaft. My thumb smoothed over the head, spreading the pre-come over it, causing his breath to quicken.

  ‘Tell me, Callie,’ he murmured, his breath hot, ‘tell me you can live without this.’

  I gave him my answer by sinking to my knees, opening my mouth, and dropping my head so the entire length of his cock sank into my mouth and throat.

  ‘Fuck!’ he exclaimed, and his hand clamped onto the back of my head and held me there.

  I wasn’t used to deep throating, although I’d enjoyed it sometimes when I was younger. Now, my eyes started to water and I couldn’t breathe. Was I scared? I should be, shouldn’t I? But it was Paul’s cock in my mouth, and therefore all was well. His grip relaxed and I pulled back, dragging my lips hard over the rigid pole, until it popped out.

  ‘Again,’ he said. So I did.

  Right down, deeper, deeper, letting my tongue dance over the veined flesh as it glided into me, clenching in on him as I felt the smooth head nuzzle my throat. Desire overcame human weakness, overcame my own self-awareness. My gag reflex was subdued by blinding lust. He held me there as he had before. I turned my eyes up, knowing he’d see them damp, knowing my mascara would be smudged and dirty. His mouth was open, his eyes hooded. I pulled back with a gasp and now, holding the base in one hand, I bobbed up and down on him, hungrier than ever.

  He started to moan and I wanted him to come. I wanted to feel him burst uncontrollably into my mouth. I wanted that salty slide of male abandon. But just as I let myself blur into a rhythm of sucking, he reached down to pull me up. I moaned at the loss of comforting cock on my tongue and pouted. His lips were on me, bruising the already tender skin.

  ‘Yes,’ he hissed. ‘I make you forget yourself; I make you question all you believe in. Question all you thought you knew. Just remember, Callie,’ he turned my head up so I was looking at him, ‘the answer is always me.’

  He set about removing my clothes; quick, rapid movements which soon meant I was naked. It only took him a moment to take off his own. Soon he was pressing me back against the wall, our naked bodies mashed together. I wrapped a leg around him and felt his cock squeezed between us. His fingers found my sex and were soon up inside me. I ground onto them, searching for release. But he was deft. He held back, promising so much but only leading me to the next level.

  Holding my wrist, Paul pulled me behind him into the bedroom and I found myself thrown on the bed. I knelt up immediately, seeking him out, wanting any of him I could get. My hands held him, my tongue tasted, but he never quite let me take it all.

  ‘No, Callie, you’re going to be ready. I’m going to make you ready. I’m going to get you right where I want you.’ With that, he put his hand on my breastbone and gave me a push so that I fell backwards with a yelp of surprise. Before I knew it, my legs were pulled out from under me and spread apart. I thrashed my head, desperate for some relief from the encroaching lust set to drive me mad.

  ‘Settle.’ It wasn’t said sweetly. It was a command. My skin was licked by an expectant frisson. I bit onto my fist, trying to steady the whirl of emotion and sensation.

  Paul moved over me, his arms braced on either side of my head and stared down. ‘Good.’ Again, his tone was forceful. I looked into his eyes, the blue as luminous as ever. He glanced down at my left nipple and reached for it. He started to toy with it, flicking and tugging. If other lovers had done this I would have thought it insensitive and clumsy, but with him I was grateful for the sensation at last. I creased my brows and my breath staggered through my lips. He smirked. I glanced down. The nipple he was playing with swelled instantly to a dark cherry red, hard and tight. His casual roughness was deliberate, and it was working – and he knew it.

  But soon he lowered his head and took the primed bud into his mouth while his hand moved to the other. Soon that was as rock hard as its twin.

  I’d never come from breast play alone, but with Paul I believed I could. He sucked and pinched so sublimely, nipping, licking, circling, lavishing such devotion on my nipples that they became little sentinels of pleasure. He could stay at them forever. He pinched hard at one point and didn’t let go. A stream of sensation poured through me. Pain, but not. I rode it out, arching up to his hands, not wanting to lose that feeling. My clit throbbed as the near-electric pleasure flowed into it. I eased myself through with incoherent moans and pants.

  At length, Paul eased off and soothed my nipples with licks and kisses. His fingers now worked their way down my belly towards my sex, not a moment too soon.

  His middle finger was poised, held over my clit. If he didn’t touch it, I’d die, surely. I bucked with a grunt, seeking out his touch.

  ‘Oh God, please!’ I couldn’t help it. It was as though my body was plugged in but the ‘on’ switch hadn’t yet been flicked.

  The downward movement of his finger stopped. ‘Please what?’

  ‘Touch me.’

  ‘I can do that, Callie, but …’ he said, his voice cat-like smooth.

  I moaned in anticipation.

  ‘You’re not allowed to come.’

  With a groan of despondency, I reached between my legs myself. His hand immediately encircled my wrist and pulled it away.

  ‘Uh-uh. Remember what I said. You need to be on the edge. Right on the edge, staring over the precipice, clinging on with your fingertips. But I’m going to hold you there. I’m going to have you pleading.’

  ‘I am pleading!’

  ‘Not enough, Callie.’

  His fingers returned to my sex but deftly avoided my clit, which was pulsing in neglect. He inserted two into me, but even then avoided my G-spot. I pushed onto
the fingers, trying to work them inside me, but he soon removed them and brought them to his mouth. Closing his lips around them, he sucked off my gleaming juices, then shuffled down between my legs.

  ‘Christ, that’s sweet. I could drown in you. What do you reckon to that? I survive a crash into the ocean just to drown in you, Callie? Jesus Christ, look at you.’ He licked, right from my perineum up, up, up to … No! Paul pulled back before he reached my clit. I sobbed and grabbed suddenly for his head, tangling my fingers in his hair, trying to pull him towards it. With a gasp of pain, he wrenched his way out of my grasp. ‘Fuck, that hurts!’ I had strands of his hair in my fingers.

  ‘Pleeease!’ I growled. Really, it was a growl, rough, guttural, propelled from somewhere deep inside.

  His tongue and lips returned, and again they licked and sucked and delved, but they wouldn’t let me come, they only pushed me further along towards that last crumbling ledge. Two fingers were deep inside me but were soon out. They moved to the rosebud indent of my backside and stroked it, coating it in my own juices. I was beyond question, beyond reason. I pulled up my knees to welcome him. He only put one finger in, or so I thought. It slid in easily, I was so ready.

  ‘Christ,’ he slurred appreciatively. ‘You have been thinking about it.’ He must have put in another finger, as I now felt stretch and pressure – but no more – deep inside. The pressure seemed to catch my G-spot too and I exhaled, relaxing more.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ I sighed, starting to fuck his fingers, grinding on them, clamping around them.

  Keeping his fingers embedded, Paul reached over, stretching himself, and opened the drawer of the bedside table. He pulled out a tube. Then his fingers were out and I groaned in loss. I glanced down. He was squeezing a thick, clear substance onto his hand from the tube. It was happening.