Adam's chuckle rumbled as they both left the small temporary airport of Karim. “Possibly.”
Adam arrived at a time when Nick was in a crossroads and unsure of which path to take. Nick couldn't get away from England any sooner. Having to constantly involve himself in corporate and political wrangling just so his project could get off the ground was frustrating enough to wear him out. The medical director had given so many reasons why Nick’s proposal to improve patient care couldn't be included in the Board meeting’s agenda. Then Nick found out that the medical director's relative had a similar proposal tabled for discussion. He resigned in disgust, taking his expertise and a quarter of the hospital trust's reputation with him. No matter how many times the chief executive personally called to convince him to come back, Nick refused. He’d had enough of that shit. He was just deciding to go on sabbatical to travel the world when Adam Hunter called.
His eyes tracked a woman whose slim but curvy figure rose from the pool. The sleek lines of her body, her wet hair at her back only reminded him of the woman he had mourned and believe he could never have.
Now she had come back from the dead.
Except for her sable coloured hair that seemed to have developed golden highlights from the Texas sun, Sherri Duffy hadn't changed. In fact, she had become more beautiful. Her skin had the healthy glow of someone getting a lot of Vitamin D. Her eyes, dark green and fringed with long lashes had that spark he remembered on the day of her wedding.
Nick was hazy about the events that led to Sherri's disappearance. He had been pulling an all-nighter with Christopher in surgery after one of Christopher's patients suffered a seizure while recovering in the High Dependency Unit. Christopher had been biting the heads off the surgical team who then threatened to bolt and leave until Nick intervened. Considered as one of the foremost neurologists in the hospital and the only one who could soothe Christopher Duffy's temper, Nick had taken over, saving the man's life.
Trying to unwind after the fiasco, he had left the hospital to spend time with his sub. The evening started well and after denying his sub her orgasm he had fucked her hard, giving her permission to come. His own release had been imminent at the sight of the woman suspended in the air by his perfectly tied knots, while his cock slid in and out of her wet pussy. She had a ball-gag that made her muffled screams of pleasure some of the sweetest Nicholas had heard. But before their play was over, there was an incessant banging on his front door and Christopher screaming bloody murder. Nick had stormed out of his play room with bad case of blue balls.
“What the bloody hell's wrong with you?” Nicholas snapped. “I've fixed your problem.”
“Sherri's gone,” Christopher barked. “My wife's gone!”
The light in his friend's blue eyes disturbed Nicholas. It wasn't the frantic light of a man in love desperately searching for his wife. The light in Christopher's eyes was of fury that his woman had left.
* * *
The moment Veronica entered her apartment, she placed the groceries on the floor and ran to the bathroom nearly missing the basin. She heaved, spewing out whatever contents her stomach had. Stark terror came out of her in torrents until she had nothing left except the sweat, sobs, and tears mingling to drip down her chin.
She hauled herself up, the sound of the toilet flushing accompanying her while she splashed cold water on her face and rinsed her mouth.
Oh my God. The phrase screamed its way through her mind in a relentless swirl that could have given her the mother of all vertigos. She staggered to the sofa bed and held the Winnie the Pooh pillow tightly in her arms - the only memory she had of Danny and the only thing she brought with her when she disappeared. She pressed the pillow deeply to her body and began to weep until exhaustion took over.
CHAPTER THREE
Tears rolled down her cheeks mingling with the drops of sweat trickling from her forehead. The liquid seeped through the cracks of the saddle horse she had been bent over on. A hard wooden one and not the soft and comfortable leather contraption on the other side of Christopher’s playroom.
Whack!
She hissed, the excruciating pain blooming from the violated skin at the back of her thighs just beneath the curve of her ass. But after so many hits, she wasn't so sure where the pain originated from as it spread all over her backside.
Danny...Danny...Danny...
She mouthed his name like a prayer as though it could miraculously help ease what she was going through, her lips moving to give it form. It gave her strength to withstand the wooden paddle, her companion for the last two years being married to a Dom.
She jerked and moaned against the ball-gag when the paddle hit her harder than she was used to, the sting of broken skin wishing for the pain to stop. It wasn't really a moan. She just couldn't scream. Never given a safe gesture to replace the unspoken safe word. Never asked how she was. She just had to take it.
For Danny.
She felt two fingers sliding between her folds, playing with her clit before entering her. Slowly she relaxed. It would be over soon.
“You've been a very good girl,” he whispered in her ear. A shudder passed through her. The fingers continued pleasuring her. “Yes...you like that don't you, my sweet.”
Her eyelids fluttered when his cock entered her. At least it was done slowly. Lovingly. She could enjoy it now. The rutting. The reward. The hands that gripped her hip while the other went back to play with her clit was enough to help her reach that unforgiving moment. The thrusts were harder, his balls slapping against her abused flesh. This time she moaned as pleasure consumed her, soothing the pain that would mark her black and blue.
Pain first before pleasure.
That was what she was told all Doms wanted. What she was taught.
And she agreed.
All for Danny.
CHAPTER FOUR
Nicholas leaned back, replete with good food and company. He watched the three in front of him, finally getting to meet Brock Jordan, the blond blue eyed member of their triumvirate. Brock regaled them with stories of what happened at the construction sites he oversaw. They were seated in what Brock called their special alcove, a corner of the restaurant separated from the main room by a wooden and glass divider. Red ivy curled around tall thick sticks in two rectangular planters, giving them further privacy. It was an incongruous addition to the restaurant's red checked table cloth and framed pictures of the old country motif. Nick couldn't care less. The food was the best he had ever tasted - from the zuppa e councesze to the pollo farcito con pesto e prosciutto.
“Good nosh, isn't it?” Adam grinned, his arm around Bettina, while he brought his wine glass to his lips.
“Yes, it is,” Nick said, his mouth twitching in amusement.
Bettina's head was lowered while she listened to Brock whisper in her ear. Gathering by the sudden blush on her cheeks, Nick wasn't in any doubt as to what they were talking about. Throughout the meal, Adam and Brock took turns feeding Bettina or brushing their lips on her bare shoulder, neck, or lips. Nick could see that Bettina was aroused from the puckering of her tits to the flushed skin of her chest and neck. He knew that Adam was into ménage and voyeurism, having occasionally met him in a BDSM club they both frequented in London prior to Adam moving to America. Nick couldn't stop the envy he felt at the way the three shared each other. It wasn't the first time he had to keep his thoughts to himself. There was a time when it took all of his willpower to stop the jealousy eating at him when he wished for someone he could never have.
Sherri.
The moment Christopher had introduced her on the day of their sudden wedding in the Registry, Nick was struck by her confidence and her beauty. Her brunette locks had tumbled around her shoulders, softly framing high cheekbones, almond shaped green eyes with long lashes underneath perfectly formed brows, and a mouth made for kissing. He couldn't stop appreciating her smooth skin or whatever was exposed by the thin strapped pale cream dress which was cinched at her waist before flaring around her
hips. He had to move away eventually when her scent, a mixture of her perfume and her sweetness threatened to make his cock give her a standing ovation. So he had watched from afar at the way Sherri greeted Christopher's guests, at the way her eyes lit up when something amused her during the reception in the nearby hotel. She had a way of making people feel welcome, even those of Christopher's friends she had only met that day. But there was one thing Nick had noticed. When Sherri thought that no one was looking, she'd slip out of the reception and the smile that lit up her face would gradually dim. Nick had watched Sherri look out the window as though she wasn't quite sure what she had gotten herself into. Her face took a troubled mean as she looked up to the suddenly cloudy Manchester sky as if looking for a resolution to her dilemma. After a while, she straightened her spine, closed her eyes, blew out a breath, and fixed a smile on her mouth.
She became the blushing bride once more.
Since then he watched her during the rare times she came to visit Christopher in hospital. But the longer she stayed with Christopher the more she lost that sparkle Nick had associated with her. Sherri had become withdrawn, quiet. Her eyes that Nicholas enjoyed looking at were always lowered, a submissive in the eyes of those who lived the lifestyle. Nicholas knew Christopher's proclivities. His friend had been a Dom just as long as him. He wasn't so sure whether Sherri agreed to be Christopher's sub 24/7, and if so, she would have done it gladly. Sherri’s tense and lacklustre disposition said otherwise. Nick was never able to find out because whenever he asked about Sherri, Christopher had often changed the subject.
His thoughts were interrupted by Bettina's gasp, watching the pleasure making her skin flush once more. She looked at him.
“Brock, Adam,” she said, her voice husky. “Maybe we should continue this in The Club.”
“But Babe, you like people watching you.” Adam murmured, tilting her chin to plant a kiss involving a lot of tongue play.
“But this is a public place,” she protested weakly against his mouth. A soft moan came out of her throat and she closed her eyes, looking away from Adam to Brock. The din of conversation in the main dining area, the frenzied orders being thrown back and forth, and the soft music filtering through hidden speakers was enough to cover the open foreplay Nick was witnessing within their enclosed space.
“That makes you hot,” Brock reasoned, his lust filled eyes devouring Bettina. “Sweetheart, your pussy's so wet, your juice is all over my fingers. Just imagine how my cock would feel like inside your pussy while Adam takes your sweet ring.”
Nick moved in his seat, his cock hardening at his friends’ verbal and visual foreplay. He never expected Adam to be this blatant about his penchant for participatory voyeurism. He adjusted himself and hardened his jaw at the brush of pleasure his hand gave him. At that moment, the doors to the kitchen swung open. Through the narrow view of the main dining area, Nick caught a glimpse of a waiter holding an order of steaming food aloft and of Veronica briskly setting platters of food on the serving shelf.
“We're heading out,” Adam spoke, his voice tight. “You can watch us in The Club.”
Bettina's eyes flared at the suggestion. She watched him with an amount of anticipation and apprehension before Brock turned her face to kiss her.
“You go ahead,” Nick replied. “There's something I have to do first.”
“Call me when you're on your way so that I can pick you up at the entrance.” Adam stood. “They won't allow anyone in who isn't a member yet.”
“Understood.” He stood up, grinning in amusement when Bettina's eyes widened and she blushed when she looked down. He held himself back from complimenting how she reddened beautifully. He didn't want to outlive his welcome even before his visit began.
Bettina smoothed her strappy black number over her hips while Brock guided her out.
“Good to meet you, man.” Brock gave him a two handed salute. “See you at The Club.”
“Thank you for the display. I enjoyed it.” Nick inclined his head.
“You're welcome.” Brock chuckled.
Adam took out his wallet.
“I'll get this.” Nick stopped him. “I'm staying longer anyway and might just order another bottle of wine.”
“You sure?” At his nod, Adam relented. “I'm assuming you want to talk to Veronica.”
Nick sat back down.
“You sure it's her? Duffy's wife?”
“I've no doubt it's her. What I want to know is what happened.”
“When you do, will you tell on her? Duffy has a right to know.”
Nick was grim. He didn't say anything.
“Well good luck, Travers,” Adam said, shaking his head. “I sure hope you know what you're doing.”
* * *
Veronica pushed the kitchen's back door with whatever strength she had left in her arms. After helping clean the kitchen, all she wanted was to pour some rose scented bath salts into the tub of steaming water and soak her tired body in it.
“Bella.”
“Not now, Gio. I want to go to sleep.”
“No, no, bella. I will not keep you.” Gio always rushed, from the way he spoke to the way he weaved in and out of his restaurant and kitchen. He reminded Veronica of those looney tune characters that screeched to a halt like runaway cars when they needed to stop.
“What is it?”
“Take the weekend off.”
Her fatigue momentarily wore off. “You're firing me.”
Gio huffed. “If I wanted to fire you I wouldn't tell you to take the weekend off. I'd say che liberazione.” He waved a fist in the air. “There’s a difference.”
Despite herself, Veronica laughed tiredly. “But the restaurant --”
“Will take care of itself, bella.” Gio patted her cheek gently. “You have been very good for the restaurant but you've not given yourself me time.”
“Me time?” Now she was amused.
“Si. Besides, Angelo has shown that he can do it and if his mother wants me to make him a partner, he should learn the ropes.”
Veronica thought of Gio's nephew who followed everything she taught him to the letter. She wasn't a Michelin star chef by any stretch of the imagination. She just loved cooking. It was the one thing that relaxed her the times she took care of Danny and before Christopher came home. With what she learned during those solitary hours more than made for the dishes that were instant hits with the patrons. Besides, Angelo was an astute study.
“Yes, he can,” she said without hesitation. “Are you sure you don't need me?”
“Veronica,” Gio sighed. “I worry about you. You've hardly gone out since you landed on my doorstep. Go, per favore. You will make me happy.”
Her heart squeezed with gratitude. She embraced the middle aged proprietor.
“Thank you. I wouldn't know what I would have done if you didn't put out that vacancy sign.”
Gio waved his hand. “The same here...A proposito, you have a visitor.”
“At one in the morning?” Her eyes widened. She glanced inside the kitchen.
“He has been waiting since he ate four hours ago with Bettina, Adam and Brock.”
Veronica inhaled sharply, dread zooming up her spine and her heart suddenly wanted to vault out of her chest. What was she going to do now? She was caught between playing ignorant to worrying she'd slip, or just getting the knapsack she'd always kept pack for this very day. No, she had to go. The thought of leaving Karim after two years landed heavily on her chest.
“Mi dispiace, Gio,” she said to the restauranteur’s delight. “But I'm tired. It's too bad that the person waited. Perhaps you can tell the person for me that I have gone home?”
Gio lifted his shoulders. “That's what I told him.” He tutted. “Leave it with me, bella. You go and rest.”
Veronica nearly stumbled up the stairwell to the apartment above the restaurant, even before Gio had closed the the back door. After all of the grief she had gone through in the UK, finding no kinder man than Gio was
her silver lining. Now she had to leave him.
She traversed the landing quickly fumbling for her keys. Her hands trembled so much that her keys fell twice before she got a good grip on the door key to insert it into the lock. Hiccupping a sigh, she entered and slammed the door behind her, double locking it and grabbing one of the two dining room chairs to wedge it under the doorknob for good measure. In the dark, she ran to the closet and took out her knapsack. She got out the box where she kept some money for emergencies. The dollar bills fell on the floor, escaping her cold hands as she stuffed it into the front pocket of the sack. Most of her money was in the bank. It didn't matter. She'd have it transferred to where she'd be going next. Her heart squeezed as memories of ordinary days in Karim filled her mind - the friendliness of the people, the kindness of strangers, the feeling of not being alone when she had befriended Bettina.
She froze when she heard a knock on her door, her heart thudding so hard Veronica thought she'd go into cardiac arrest. Slowly her arms moved once more, then faster as she grabbed her jacket. Then she stopped.
She had no way out.
Desperation clawed at her, churning her belly with anxiety. Veronica slumped back on the bed without any recourse except to watch the door and hope that the person knocking would go away.
But what if it wasn't Nicholas Travers? What if it was just Gio or Angelo? They’d wonder why she was carrying a knapsack in the middle of the night without saying goodbye. What reason could she give? That there was a man after her and that man was her perverted husband's friend? Living the lifestyle with her eyes open in only as much as Christopher allowed, was a secret she hadn't shared with anyone. Not even with Bettina whom she knew frequented The Club with Adam and Brock. Bettina wasn't traumatized by living out her kink.
On the other hand, her living out Christopher's fantasy had damaged her.
She could call 911, tell them there was an intruder in her house. She fished for her phone in her jeans pocket and her heart sank. She had left her phone in Gio's office. She slid down the bed on to the floor, hugging her knees and waiting for the person to leave.
Come Fly with Me (The Club Book 21) Page 2
