by Jagger, Kait
When he was finished securing her, he stepped back. With some difficulty, Luna lifted her head off the table to find him surveying his handiwork, eyelids hooded. She stretched her fingers, felt the belt tightening against her wrists, heard the leather creaking. Then watched as he unbuttoned his cuffs and slowly, deliberately rolled up his sleeves. Like a man who had work to do. Luna’s neck swayed, and her head fell back onto the table with a dull thump.
Soon she heard the sound of his chair scraping along the wooden floor, felt his hands parting her legs and lifting her feet up onto his knees, followed by his breath, warm against the inside of her thigh.
‘I am going to make you beg me tonight, min tjänare,’ came his voice. ‘I’m going to make you beg, and plead, and weep for me.’ With that, he placed his fingers on her vulva and pulled her wide open, nudging his face into her and placing the tip of his tongue onto the very tip of her clitoris. Luna bit her lip and shuddered, eyes rolling back in her head.
He toyed with her that night, on that table, in a way he’d never done before, not when they were doing this and he was normally all business, intent on bringing her to orgasm. No, this time he teased her, finding a sensitive groove and stroking it with his tongue till she was gasping, trembling under his mouth. Then stopping. Or using his teeth, lightly sucking at her till her clitoris quivered in readiness. And stopping again.
Plead she did, by the end. ‘Please, please, Stefan,’ she moaned as he rubbed the bridge of his nose against her and her thigh muscles tightened to the point of pain. And then the sweet joy of it, when he responded by covering her entirely with his mouth, sucking, and biting, and licking till she… till it… ah the blessed relief, exploding under his mouth, her entire pelvis clenching and unclenching. The sound of her cries filling the air, increasing as the movement of his tongue against her became unbearable and she’d have pushed him off her if she had the use of her hands.
He didn’t stop till she was sobbing, tears rolling down her cheeks as a second orgasm gave way to a third and she was at the very precipice of her endurance. Then and only then did he lift his head from her and stand, barely managing to pull his trousers down before slipping his cock into the swollen bed he’d made.
*
Luna’s flight back to Shetland wasn’t until late the following afternoon, so they went for lunch at the Kelpie, which was heaving with Sunday custom when they arrived. Being the heir presumptive came with its privileges, however; the minute the manager recognised Stefan, he quickly guided them to a table in a quiet alcove.
Luna insisted, then, that Stefan talk her through the past few weeks at Arborage, his ongoing difficulties with Helen, who now refused to take his calls, and with Augusta, who was preoccupied with the Marquess’s health to the exclusion of everything else. She made a point of offering no advice, simply asking questions and listening carefully to his responses, hoping that her concentrated attention was the same kind of balm to him that his always was to her.
It was only as they were sharing a dessert of sticky toffee pudding that Luna said, almost as an aside, ‘By the way, I’ve asked your father to release me a month early from my assignment.’
Stefan raised his eyebrows and she hurried on, ‘I’ve… delivered all the deliverables in my contract. I’d feel guilty, continuing to take Sören’s money when I’m just sitting there twiddling my thumbs.’
‘And my father has accepted this?’ Stefan asked.
‘Yes.’ Luna shrugged and added, ‘He’s asked me to come see him next month in Stockholm, but—’
‘I’m coming with you.’
She blinked at him. ‘There’s no need for that.’
‘No, I’m coming.’
He was so unyielding that Luna was too taken aback to mention her other reasons for requesting an early release, reasons relating to him and wanting to be with him. It was a strangely unsatisfactory end to their lunch, and as he drove her to Glasgow Airport Luna felt a current of anxiety building up inside her. By the time he pulled into a spot in the airport car park, she was alive with it, grabbing her backpack from the back seat and swiftly jumping out of the Land Rover.
‘I’ll, um, see you next weekend, then,’ she said, up onto the balls of her feet, ready to dash into the airport.
Stefan looked at his watch and observed mildly, ‘Your flight doesn’t leave for almost two hours. I’ll keep you company.’
‘But you’ll want to get on the road back to London, surely,’ she protested.
He wouldn’t hear of it, of course, so they headed off to the terminal, Luna walking so fast that Stefan struggled to keep up with her.
‘Luna!’ he said finally, grabbing her arm as she headed toward the queue for security. He spun her around to face him and Luna briefly pulled away from him, only for him to tighten his grip. ‘Why are you running away from me?’
Unable to meet his gaze, she stared at the floor with her shoulders hunched and hands balled into fists. How to confess her weaknesses to him, tell him that she didn’t want to go back to Shetland, and dreaded the thought of walking into her empty cottage? That she was tired of being a good girl, tired of being responsible for Dagmar, and Malcolm, and the farmers. That after a weekend of being dominated by the heir of Lionsbridge, she just wanted her boyfriend back, the one who bled her radiators and made her breakfast and understood her.
But he was there, he’d been there all along. Seeing her fraught expression, Stefan pulled her away from the security line and led her to the deserted executive lounge. He sat down on a sofa there, putting his arm around her and rubbing her shoulder while she haltingly admitted her failings.
‘And you don’t even seem happy that I’m coming back to London,’ she concluded sometime later, voice quavering a little.
At this, he pulled back from her, objecting, ‘I’m very happy you’re coming to London.’ He put his hand under her chin and lifted it, smiling brightly at her. ‘See? See how happy, älskling?’
Luna buried her face in his neck, listening to him continue, ‘I was just thinking, that’s all. Things like, what drawers can I clear in my bedroom for Luna’s clothes, and what will it be like to have her hair brush and perfume and her beautiful self in my bathroom.’
‘So it’s okay, me staying at your apartment?’
He pulled away from her again and shook his head sternly. ‘You will make me angry, talking like that. It’s your apartment now. Our apartment.’ He lowered his forehead to hers. ‘I love you, Luna, and I am very happy.’
Chapter Seventeen
Following her mini-meltdown at Glasgow Airport, Luna gave herself a stern talking to upon her return to Shetland, spending the next several days tying up loose ends and hosting an inaugural meeting of the wool cooperative. She ploughed through enough work that her conscience was clear by the time she arrived in London on Friday morning, a good eight hours before the flight time she’d given Stefan, with a list of things to do and people to surprise.
After crossing off the business end of her to do list, at midday Luna made her way to Rod Studios’ offices in trendy Shoreditch. Slipping through the office’s floor-to-ceiling glass doors, she tiptoed across the acid-washed concrete floor toward Jem’s desk, where her friend was typing away on her laptop. Off in a far corner at the end of the office, the usual clutch of tech geeks were hard at it on the PlayStation, including games designer Scott, who raised his hand and waved excitedly to her. Luna lifted her finger to her lips and snuck up behind Jem, placing both hands over her eyes.
‘Jemima Evangeline, my dulcet darling,’ she intoned next to Jem’s ear, whereupon Jem leapt out of her seat and flung her arms around Luna’s neck.
‘Luna!’ she cried. ‘Rod, lovey, look, it’s Luna!’ Rod, who was on the phone across the room, lifted his hand and gave Luna a wink. ‘I didn’t expect to see you till tomorrow,’ Jem said, looking Luna up and down. ‘Wow, you look posh.’
Indeed, Luna had her hair in a topknot bun and was wearing a form-fitting navy wrap dress teamed wi
th matching pumps. ‘Meeting with a recruitment agent this morning,’ she explained, adding casually, ‘I don’t suppose you fancy skiving off for a few hours, going with me to the farmer’s market down the road, do you?’
‘Rod, love, I’m going out,’ Jem shouted, launching herself back at Luna, who returned the embrace, lifting her friend up off her feet, laughing out loud. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Scott and his mates watching this, Scott smiling sanguinely as if to say, all’s right with the world.
Two hours later, having purchased the components of a picnic meal and changed into a gingham sundress and sandals, Luna headed off to Mayfair by black cab.
She was excited and shy in equal measure at the prospect of visiting Stefan’s offices for the first time. She knew from the way he talked about them that he viewed their ultra-expensive location as a necessary extravagance, ‘stage setting’ to impress his more high profile clients. But he was proud of them too, she could tell. And she could see why as the taxi drew up in front of a beautiful redbrick Arts & Crafts building just down the street from Green Park Tube station. Walking up to a handsome arched entrance, she located SLA on the intercom and was about to press the button when a man in a pinstripe suit exited the door, holding it open for her.
SLA’s quarters began at the top of the heavily panelled oak staircase, taking up the entire first floor of the building. As Luna got to the top of the stairs, a slender, perfectly made-up woman sitting at an aluminium desk opposite a bank of original stained-glass windows enquired with a smile, ‘Can I help you?’
Luna cleared her throat. ‘I’m here to see…’ Hmm, it didn’t seem right to use his Christian name in an office environment. ‘…Mr Lundgren,’ she finished lamely.
‘Is he expecting you?’
Luna considered that for a second. ‘No, but…’
The woman’s face rearranged itself into a facsimile of desolate regret. ‘I’m sorry, but Mr Lundgren doesn’t take walk-ins.’ Another smile, but a cool one this time, followed by the woman’s eyes pointedly sizing up Luna’s casual outfit and picnic basket. And finding them lacking.
‘Luna Gregory!’ came a voice behind her. Luna turned and saw Stefan’s friend and colleague James MacGregor bounding out of the open plan office visible just beyond reception. ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes!’ he exclaimed, pulling her into a hug.
The next few minutes passed in a blur as one by one, Stefan’s ten or so staff filtered out into the foyer, some on the pretext of fetching a drink from the expensive espresso machine next to the Scandinavian sofas, others making absolutely no bones that they’d come to check out the boss’s girlfriend. Luna noted with some amusement that, despite the fact that she was wearing flat sandals, she was taller than almost all of Stefan’s notably diminutive employees.
The woman on reception, Christina, was abjectly apologetic for icing her out, prompting Luna to laugh reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, I’m a PA. I’ve seen off my share of time-wasters!’ Holding up her basket and smiling sideways at James, she added, ‘I thought I’d spring a birthday surprise on Stefan.’
This provoked some good-natured laughter from the rest of the staff; although he didn’t turn twenty-nine till the following day, apparently there had been a week’s worth of birthday-related celebrations for their boss, including an office cricket match, celebratory lunch, and cake just that afternoon, a slice of which Christina insisted on bringing to Luna.
Sometime later, sitting on one of the sofas with James, an impromptu party starting up around them, Luna finally thought to ask, ‘Where is Stefan, anyway?’
He cocked his head in the direction of a door at the end of the hall. ‘Client visit. Though I predict that in exactly—’ he slid back the cuff at his wrist and consulted his watch, ‘—thirty seconds, he’s going to come barrelling out of that door, off to fetch you at the airport.’ He smiled, his seal-like brown eyes shining. ‘It really is good to see you. He’s… well, all I can say is that he’s been in a very good mood, these past few months.’
Luna smiled and opened her mouth to reply when, right on cue, the door at the end of the hall opened and Stefan came running out into the foyer. If he was surprised to see his entire staff hanging out around the front desk, he didn’t show it, shrugging on his suit jacket as he ran, lifting a quick hand to Christina.
He was halfway down the stairs before he came to a screeching halt and reversed a few steps, his face appearing between the spindles of the banister. Cue more laughter from his employees and another strange rush of shyness in Luna, who stood as he made his way back up the stairs.
‘Sorry, can’t stop,’ he said, coming to stand in front of her. ‘I’ve got to get to Heathrow.’ And smiled his very best smile, bending down to kiss her.
She swore she heard the sound of at least two female and one male hearts shattering at the sight of this, and at the indecent haste with which he subsequently fended off all suggestions that the two of them join a Friday night pub crawl. Instead, he took her by the hand and led her back down the stairs, Luna waving haplessly to James as they made their exit.
‘You look like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz,’ Stefan remarked at the bottom of the stairs, eying her sundress approvingly.
‘I feel like her,’ Luna laughed, walking with him out onto the pavement. ‘Don’t think I haven’t noticed that your entire staff is Munchkin-sized. Is that a job requirement of yours or what?’
‘Miss Gregory, I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said, and pulled her into his arms, lowering his mouth to hers again.
They decided to head back to the apartment for their picnic in the end, a light drizzle having begun to fall by the time they got to Stefan’s parking space around the corner. Surprised to see the same Land Rover Stefan had driven to the Highlands the previous weekend, Luna joked, ‘Is the Lamborghini in the shop?’
Stefan shook his head. ‘Sold it.’
Luna was dumbfounded. ‘Really? But…’
‘It isn’t the right car for me now,’ he said, opening the passenger door for her and taking her basket. ‘Now that I’m doing more work around the estate, and I’ve got my girlfriend to move in next month.’ His tone was matter of fact, but Luna felt unaccountably wistful on his behalf as he loaded her basket in the tailgate and climbed in the driver’s side.
‘Won’t you miss it?’ she asked.
Another shrug. ‘“When I became a man I put aside childish things,”’ he quoted, and when she looked unconvinced, he added, ‘It’s a car, Luna. A thing. I have all the things I need.’
His words stayed with her later that evening as they sat on the floor of his apartment, the contents of the picnic basket spread out around them, watching the lights come on across the Thames. Despite the fact that Stefan’s actual birthday wasn’t till the following day, Luna wanted to give him his official gifts now. Still, she was a little apprehensive; what, after all, do you give to the man who’s just told you he has everything he needs?
She needn’t have worried. Ripping into the wrapping paper with all the gusto of a five-year-old, Stefan proclaimed himself delighted with his first gift, a limited edition of the silk bird scarf Dagmar had designed. ‘A little bird has told me that your father is going to give you a Lundgren coat,’ Luna said, ‘so I thought you should have an accessory to go with it.’ He saw the item underneath it and began to chuckle, unspooling the massive, unevenly knitted scarf she’d been working on for the past few months.
‘Ah, a memento of Shetland,’ he said warmly.
‘The ladies in the knitting club helped me with the fringe, see?’ Luna said, stroking her hand along the edge of the scarf, decorated with tassels in every different natural shade of Shetland wool, from black to brown to grey to white.
‘It’s beautiful,’ he said, leaning over to kiss her. ‘I’ll wear it with pride.’ He looked down at the scarf, then lifted his fingers to her jaw. ‘But not when I’m with you, allergy girl.’
*
‘Oi! Lou! Luna!
’ Kayla shouted. Smiling apologetically at the man she was talking to, who happened to be Kayla’s homme du moment and who may as well have had TEMPORARY written in Sharpie on his forehead, Luna looked down the table toward Kayla, who was sitting between Stefan and Nancy, half-drunk flute of bucks fizz in hand.
It was the following morning and, at Nancy’s insistence, they had joined her and on-off boyfriend Robert for brunch at their five-star-hotel near Greenwich. By coincidence, today was Robert’s birthday as well, and Nancy had decided to surprise him with an impromptu trip to London. Luna and Stefan arrived first to find Nancy and Robert sitting at an outside table overlooking a courtyard garden. Nancy was wearing her usual black accessorised with a Chanel scarf and Robert had on a very nice cream linen suit.
‘Savile Row,’ Nancy announced proudly when Stefan dutifully admired it. A birthday gift from her.
‘Yee-ah,’ Robert said in his strong New Jersey accent. ‘I’m still rebuildin’ my wah-drobe.’ A reference to the incident Luna had borne witness to late last year when, having discovered he was cheating on her, Nancy had set fire to the contents of his clothes rail.
Things were better now, she told Luna in a brief phone conversation earlier that week. ‘He’s really trying,’ she said. And again, Luna chose to keep any comparisons between Robert and her own boyfriend, who had never cheated on her, to herself. Though she couldn’t quite stop herself from sending a little Hallviken Robert’s way when he made an offhand comment about Nancy, something humorous verging on disparaging. You had better not fuck with my friend again, her look said, and she was satisfied to see him flinch and look away.
Down the table, Stefan appeared to be getting on well enough with Robert, and rolling with the punches as far as the general conversation was going. Whereas the homme du moment – why was it always Luna who ended up babysitting Kayla’s boyfriends? – seemed overawed.
