by M K Farrar
“No, Olivia, I want you now.”
“I’ll be ten seconds.” She made a dash for the bathroom and found the condoms. Her gaze caught on her medication. Had she remembered to take that day’s dose? She couldn’t remember, but it didn’t matter now. She grabbed one of the condoms from the packet and ran back to her bedroom. Michael sat on the bed, leaning back on his elbows, waiting for her. A slow smile spread across his face as she lifted the foil packet to show him, unable to hide the blush of embarrassment creeping across her cheeks.
He reached for her, took her hand, and tugged her onto the bed with him. He pulled her summer dress from her body, leaving her in only her underwear, and those items didn’t remain on for long. She rid him of his trousers and Jockey shorts, too, so they were naked.
They fell together, kissing with renewed urgency, his hands in her hair, her running her fingers down the hard muscles of his back. His hand slipped between her thighs, his fingers curling inside her, making her cry out, making her wet for him. She rolled the condom down his length, and he thrust inside her, deep and hard, sinking down right to the base of him. They clutched each other as he moved, grunting.
Her eyes squeezed shut, but he reached up and held her jaw, forcing her to face him as he hovered above her, his expression almost angry. “Look at me, Olivia. I want to look into your eyes when you come.”
His hips slammed against hers, as he looked down into her face. There was something dangerous in his eyes, but sexy, and as her world exploded in a million sparks and her mind was set spinning with pleasure, she wondered just how dangerous he would end up being.
Chapter Nine
Present Day
SHE ROLLED HER SHOULDERS to loosen her muscles and stared at her handiwork. A criss-cross of stripes ran across his skin, blood running down the cuts in places. Not all of them had bled, but all had hurt. She’d seen it in the way his body tensed at every strike, how he’d tried to pull away, even though his movements were limited as he hung from the metal hook in the ceiling.
She wondered what the hook had been used for originally. Whoever had installed it probably hadn’t had this in mind. It was more likely supposed to be used to hang meat—pheasants or rabbits that needed to be hung for a while before eating, perhaps.
She risked circling around him to see his face. He wasn’t unconscious this time, despite the whipping she’d given him. His shoulders heaved as he sucked in air through his nose, and the muscles in his shoulders and arms trembled from the exertion of holding his bodyweight. Something in her chest tightened, but she pushed the feeling away. She couldn’t allow herself to feel any pity for him. Weakness was exactly what he preyed upon, and she needed to be strong. This wasn’t for her; she needed to remember that.
She came to a halt in front of him. “Are you ready to tell me yet?”
He lifted his face to hers. Sweat beaded his brow and upper lip, and a trail of diluted blood ran from his hairline and down his face. He glared at her, his eyes still filled with tumultuous fury. Even if he motioned that he’d given in and would tell her what she needed to know, she couldn’t be sure he would do it.
She found herself staring too long, locked into his gaze, as though he was seeing right into her. She dragged her line of sight away, not trusting herself to look at him for too long.
Could he control her via eye contact alone? She doubted it, but she couldn’t take any risks. She didn’t trust herself around him, and there was good reason for that. Right now he looked defenceless, strung up like an animal, but he was the one who’d caused all of this. They wouldn’t be in this position if it wasn’t for him.
“Don’t make me keep doing this,” she said, hating the pleading tone that entered her voice. “Just tell me.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw, and he blinked, once, twice. Was he trying to tell her something? But then she realised sweat was running into his eyes, stinging them. Automatically, she stepped forward again, planning to wipe the sweat from his face with the sleeve of her shirt, but she stopped herself. She hated how her instinct was still to make him comfortable. He didn’t deserve her sympathy.
Time was running out.
“I swear to God, you think this is painful, but what I’ve done is nothing. Don’t test my patience. I can do worse ... Far worse.”
She didn’t want to have to, though. The idea turned her stomach. She wasn’t a bad person. She had to keep reminding herself of that. She was only doing what was necessary.
He tried to speak against the gag, a muffled growl. Still frightened of him, she stepped back and jammed both hands against her ears. Though she knew she wouldn’t be able to understand what he was saying, a fear lay deep within her. Feeling like a child, but unable to stop herself, she chanted to drown out his voice. It was nonsense, but at least she couldn’t hear him.
She risked a peep over to him. His brow had creased in confusion, a combination of uncertainty and fear in his eyes. It looked as though he’d stopped trying to speak, however, so she took her hands off her ears.
Above their heads, a door slammed.
Fuck.
Someone else was here.
Her heart hammered, and she froze, her ears straining. She thought she’d prepared for this. No one else was supposed to be here now.
She trained her gaze across the ceiling as footsteps landed, one after the other. They crossed the floor, then paused and turned in the other direction. She looked to the staircase leading to the next floor and the door at the top. She’d bolted the lock, but if someone tried the door, they’d wonder why they couldn’t get access.
All her attention had been on the movement of the person above, but she suddenly remembered the man. He’d also frozen, staring up at the ceiling, and she watched the change in his expression as what the movement meant sank in.
“No!” she hissed. “Don’t you dare!”
But he did, inhaling deep through his nose, causing his chest to expand, and then he yelled best he could against the gag. The noise was still muffled, but to her it sounded painfully loud. She couldn’t allow him to continue like that. If the person came to the locked door, they’d be sure to hear him. They might have even heard him already. She couldn’t risk another person coming in here, or calling the police. He would do what he’d always done, and get away with everything with no repercussions. They’d get caught up in processing and paperwork, and before they knew it, they would have run out of time, and then it would be too late. Maybe it was already too late. She had no way of knowing for sure until she was able to get him to speak, but if whoever was upstairs found them, this would all be over.
Panic launched her into overdrive. “No!” she hissed. “Shut up, shut up.”
She wasn’t thinking things through now, only working on instinct. Frantic, she glanced from side to side, taking in her surroundings, trying to figure out if there was anything down here she could use. Cardboard boxes were stacked along one wall, the sides sagging and threatening to spill the contents. Along another wall stood a large wooden wine rack, emptied of any wine, but still containing dust covered empty wine bottles that must have been used for self-brewing.
Not wasting any more time, she took the couple of steps towards the wine rack and snatched out one of the bottles. Her fingers left marks in the thick dust on the glass. He yelled through the gag again, and she tightened her fingers around the neck of the bottle and swung it, her lip curled, her eyes wide. She must have looked barbaric, and the small part of her brain that was still focused, almost watching her from the outside in, rippled in fear. But there was nothing more she could do. Her arm curved in an arc, the bottle clutched between her fingers. It connected with the side of his skull with a crack that sounded hideously loud at a time when she wanted to be quiet, but he immediately fell silent. His head dropped again, his chin hitting his chest, and she stood, frozen, gripping the bottle in her hand and breathing hard. Had whoever was upstairs heard that? She realised how lucky she’d been that the bottle hadn’t broken. The
glass breaking would have been louder than the yell.
She strained her ears, trying to pick up the footsteps above. There was nothing. Had the person gone still because they thought they’d heard something and were listening for more? Her blood thumped in her ears, too loud, drowning out all other sound. She tried to make her breathing shallower, making it easier to hear what was happening above. Would they come to the door? Would they check the handle and discover it locked, and that would raise their suspicions? Tears of fear filled her eyes. She didn’t want to be forced into a situation where she’d have to make a decision about what to do about another person revealing what she was doing. She knew they’d never understand.
But as she stood, breath held and pulse racing, the footsteps crossed back over to where the front door was positioned. She jumped as the front door slammed shut, and then exhaled a sigh of relief. Whoever that had been was gone now.
She turned her attention to the man, and the realisation of what she’d done sank in. He was unconscious again, which meant he wouldn’t be answering any of her questions until he woke.
She hoped, by then, it wouldn’t be too late.
Chapter Ten
Three Weeks Earlier
MICHAEL STAYED AROUND for the rest of the weekend. They had sex again, several more times, and Olivia made a mental note that she would need to replace the condoms. The box was now looking decidedly emptier than it had before.
When Sunday morning rolled around, she didn’t want him to leave. But Tammy would be back soon, and she wanted to avoid having to introduce them. They’d end up meeting eventually, but she’d rather not do it when Tammy was back from another binge-partying weekend and in a foul mood, which she was bound to be. Tamsin never liked the come-downs. Besides, Liv wanted to keep Michael all to herself for the moment. Her friends would overanalyse everything, and she didn’t want anyone to try to bring her down from her own personal little high.
Her flatmate wouldn’t be back until the evening, however, so Liv figured they might as well enjoy what was left of the weekend. They ordered pizza in and hung out on the couch. Liv’s heart was full to bursting. After the positively mundane start to the Saturday, things had gone decidedly in her favour.
Within thirty minutes, the door buzzed, and Liv jumped out of Michael’s arms. “I’ll get it.”
She hit the buzzer to let the delivery guy up then opened the door to wait. She’d already paid by card when she’d ordered, so she didn’t need to worry about the cash. The lift door slid open, and a man stepped out. He was holding a basket in both hands, so she wasn’t able to see his face initially, but as he turned towards the door, confusion rippled through her.
“Tony?”
It was bizarre seeing her boss here. She almost didn’t recognise him out of context. He wasn’t wearing one of the badly fitted suits he normally wore to the office, but instead was in dark blue jeans and a striped shirt. His hair looked different as well, as though he’d used even more product than normal, and as he stepped closer, she got a whiff of aftershave. Had he stopped by here on his way to a date?
“Olivia, hello.” His cheeks had flared pink, but he took a step closer. His gaze darted around, not quite landing anywhere. “I hope it’s all right me stopping by. I’d been worried about you being ill, and I just wanted to bring you this.”
She cast her gaze to the basket he thrust towards her. Cellophane covered the top, a white ribbon tied to the handle. Beneath the cellophane were bunches of grapes, piles of shiny red apples, the dimpled skin of oranges, and the hairy coats of kiwi fruit.
Liv blinked in surprise. “What is all this?”
He pushed the basket into her hands and cleared his throat. “Like I said, I knew you were sick, and I thought you might appreciate these.”
Guilt swept through her, but with it came awkwardness. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, thanks, but I only picked up a bug. It wasn’t as though I was in hospital or anything.” She felt horrible that he’d gone to so much effort when she’d basically lied to him about being sick. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been ill, but not in the way she’d told him.
Movement came from behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder to see Michael standing in the doorway. He was bare-chested and stood with his elbow pressed against the doorframe in a casual stance that left nothing to the imagination. Without a doubt, he was letting the other man know he was the one who belonged here.
“Everything okay, Livvy?” Michael asked.
Her cheeks heated, now sandwiched between her boss and the guy she’d been screwing all weekend. “Err ... Yes, of course. Tony is my boss, and he was just dropping this off to me.”
Michael’s eyebrows lifted. “Did you win a raffle or something? Couldn’t it have waited until tomorrow morning?”
Fear that Michael would mention something about them being out together the night before she’d called in sick caught her in its clutches. Sharp nails of panic clawed through her, and she desperately wanted these two men to be apart.
She threw a nervous smile at Michael, willing him with her eyes to back away. “Why don’t you wait inside and listen out for the delivery guy? He might be trying my mobile phone if he can’t find this address.”
“Oh, right, sure.” A frown marked his brow, but he did as she said and turned and went back into the flat.
She turned back to Tony. “This was really sweet of you, Tony, but I really do have to get back.”
“Of course. You have company.” He shook his head. “Stupid of me.”
“No, not at all. Like I said, it was really thoughtful. Maybe I’ll bring this into the office tomorrow to share around.” She forced a smile. “They will make a change to all those biscuits and cakes we’re normally stuffing ourselves with.”
He was already backing away, and the fist that had clutched at her stomach since she’d first realised who was here released its grip.
“You’ll be coming in tomorrow?” he asked, not meeting her eye.
“Absolutely. I’m all better now.” She kept the smile glued to her face, but it felt like a mask.
“Good, good,” he muttered, his head down, hunching into his shoulders. “See you tomorrow, then.”
He didn’t even look at her as he disappeared back inside the lift and the door slid shut behind him.
Liv exhaled a sigh of relief, and her whole body sagged. That had been weird. And awkward. And now it was going to be awkward when she went in to work tomorrow, too. She looked down at the fruit basket she had clutched to her chest. What the hell had he been thinking?
With another sigh, she turned and went back into the flat. Michael was sitting on the couch, his fist balled and his knuckles pressed to his lips as he held in a smirk.
She lifted her eyebrows at him in warning. “Don’t you dare.”
He snorted out the laughter he’d been holding back. “I’m sorry. But what the hell was that all about? A fruit basket?”
She set it down on the coffee table and covered her face with both hands. “I know! Oh, my God. That was so fucking weird.”
“He’s definitely got a thing for you.”
“No, he hasn’t! That was just his way of being nice. He doesn’t have many friends or anything.”
The smirk was back. “Yeah, wonder why?”
She picked up a cushion from the chair and lobbed it at him. “Stop it. He’s not a bad guy. He’s just socially awkward.”
“What was that he said about you being sick?”
“Oh, it was nothing. I felt a bit hung-over after our date, so I pulled a sicky. I’m feeling super bad about it now, though.”
Michael laughed, deep from his chest. “I bet you are.”
She allowed herself to be pulled into his arms, pressing herself up against his naked chest. He reached across her to where she’d placed the fruit basket on the table and pulled off the cellophane. He plucked a shiny red apple out of the basket and took a massive bite, crunching in her ear.
“Hey, I said I w
as going to take those to work tomorrow,” she protested, pretending to grab the apple back again.
He held it out of reach, forcing her to clamber over him. “They’re not going to miss one apple.”
The doorbell rang again.
“Let’s hope it’s the takeaway this time.” He laughed.
“Yeah, I hope so.”
Liv didn’t like surprises.
Chapter Eleven
Three Weeks Earlier
SHE WENT TO WORK ON Monday to a desk piled with paperwork she’d missed after having the end of the previous week off, and an email inbox she thought she’d never get to the bottom of. Though she’d told Tony she had her laptop at home, she hadn’t actually got around to opening it and catching up on any work.
In the end, she’d decided to leave the fruit basket at home. She hadn’t wanted to bring it in, knowing it would only cause everyone in the office to ask questions about where it had come from. She still felt awkward about Tony showing up at her place last night, especially as Michael had been there. Their takeaway had arrived not long after Tony had left, and they’d eaten, and then Michael had made his excuses and left. Though she’d enjoyed spending the weekend with him, she’d found herself relieved that he was going, so she could have some time alone to process what had happened.
She was thankful she hadn’t seen Tony that morning either. He must be shut inside his office or out meeting a client. Either way, it meant she’d avoided that awkward moment when they came face to face, both of them knowing the real reason he’d come to her flat last night. She didn’t know what she’d ever done to make him think she might be interested. He was at least ten years older than she was—probably closer to fifteen—and perhaps she was nicer to him than most of the other women in the office because she was grateful he’d given her the job opportunity, but she didn’t think she’d done anything else to encourage him. She wanted to convince herself that he had come over purely because he was concerned, but it didn’t sit true in her heart. She hoped that would be the end of it. Seeing Michael there would surely have been enough of a hint to let him know she wasn’t interested.
