by J. J. Sorel
“I thought you must’ve been the gardener.” Clarissa chuckled.
I grinned. “A gardener?” I thought about this. “Hmm… you know, I relate more to being a gardener than a billionaire.”
“What do you want to do with all that money?”
“I don’t know. Just keep setting up funds so that I can help those in need. And spoil you rotten. It’s brilliant being rich.”
“That’s what attracts me the most to you, Aidan—your kindness.” Clarissa’s emotion-filled voice penetrated to my soul.
“What, not my animal charms?” I said, smiling.
Clarissa giggled. “I thought you were a hot, sexy gardener. And whenever I went out for my walk, I hoped I would run into you.”
“Now, that turns me on,” I said, running my hand up her leg. “Clarissa…” I looked into her eyes, my own eyes heavy with need. “You’re so delectably wet.”
“That’s because of how you’re touching me.”
“I like the way you touch me,” I said, circling her swelling clit with my finger. Clarissa reached into my unzipped pants and played with my cock. “We’re like two over-sexed teenagers who can’t get enough of each other,” I said, my voice thickening from arousal.
I loved Clarissa about to orgasm. She got this look in her half-closed eyes, her mouth agape and her whimpers sweeter than any music I’d ever heard. Just as I felt her clit pulsing, I entered her with two fingers, and she trembled, squirting cum on my fingers. “That’s it, baby. Yes,” I murmured. I lifted her off the sofa and carried her into the bedroom for round four.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The view stilled my mind as I stood by the window. I watched the ever-changing blues, and soul-lifting turquoise sky that was at times tranquil, while other times, wild and unexpected, just like my emotions. My eyes shifted to the painting of the reclining woman. Clarissa entered my thoughts. Not that she was ever that far from them. I recalled the tingly feeling I got when setting eyes on the painting at Sotheby’s. Paying higher than its value at the time, I had to have it.
I’d always been a sucker for women with long black hair and brown eyes. The need for the painting superseded mere indulgence. Never would I have predicted that I would find myself in the arms of its double.
Having not picked up a book since Europe, I decided to visit my library. Clarissa had inspired me to read again.
It came as no surprise to find Julian Moone there with his head buried in a book. Seated in a recliner, he looked the part in his cravat and gentlemanly attire. It was like stepping back in time and gratifying to see the room being enjoyed.
Julian peered up over his horn-rimmed glasses. “Oh, you must be Mr. Thornhill.” Placing the book down, he started to rise.
“No, stay there, please.” I approached Clarissa’s father and held out my hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
Julian took my hand and nodded. “Likewise.” He had that familiar uncertain smile. Like father, like daughter.
“Are you enjoying the collection?” I ran my finger over one of the gold- scrolled spines.
“I’m in heaven,” said Julian. “You have an impressive collection here.” He got up and directed my attention to the mahogany desk, where a ledger sat. “The catalogue is coming along very well. I’m recording everything by hand. And Greta…” He paused, his face looking flushed suddenly. “Ah, Greta suggested I photograph the entries and pop them into digital format.” He smiled faintly. “Or at least, she’ll show me. I’m not good with technology.” His dark eyes reflected a hesitant nature, another family trait.
I opened out my hands. “Work it as you like, Mr. Moone. I’m just excited that the library is being used.” Shifting gears into personable mode, I asked, “What are you reading?”
“Please, call me Julian.” His eyes lit up. “Nathanial Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter. You have a fine collection of early American literature. I can’t wait to get into the Henry James’ first editions. All unexpurgated. Mind you, the man would’ve done well to trim some of his prose.” He laughed.
I responded with a chuckle, not because I knew anything about this subject, but more because his laugh was infectious. Just like his daughter’s. I instantly warmed to him. There was such joyful eccentricity with Julian. He reminded me of some of the characters I’d met in Europe.
“I came in for a book to take away with me. I’m off to Germany for two weeks.”
“Oh…” Julian wrinkled his brow, deep in thought suddenly. His eyes rested on the dark wood shelves. “I suppose you won’t want a heavy hardback in your luggage,” he said with hand on chin.
“That won’t be a problem,” I responded, careful not mention I was going in my own private jet. This was hardly the time to flaunt my obscene wealth.
“Well, then,” he said. “Have you got any book in mind, an author perhaps?”
“Not sure. I’m interested in war history, I suppose.”
Julian’s eyes fired up. “Ah. Right, then…” He regarded me. “You were in the army. Clarissa mentioned something about that.”
I nodded.
“Which unit?” Julian asked.
My body stiffened. “The Special Forces.” I didn’t want to talk about that.
Julian’s face was brimming with interest. “The elite squad, I take it.”
I nodded.
“Impressive,” Julian replied. I relaxed again. He had a calming, avuncular quality. “Did you read much while deployed?”
“I did.”
“Which were your favored books?”
Without giving it a thought, I replied, “Les Misérables and War and Peace.”
Julian’s eyebrows shot up. He nodded in approval. “Door stoppers. They’re major works. Extraordinary books, in fact. If somebody were to ask which books edify and enrich while challenging moral concepts, I would direct them to those two.”
I smiled. My head officer, an avid reader and well-educated man, had spoken similarly on their virtues.
“So, war history, then,” Julian reflected. “How about Ernest Hemingway?”
Before I even opened my mouth, Julian had a copy in his hands.
I took the book A Farewell to Arms. “That should work,” I said, adding, “I’ll probably take one other.”
Julian’s eyes sparkled. He was enjoying this. “What about A Tale of Two Cities by Dickens?”
“Sure, if you recommend it.”
“It’s about the French revolution. Taking into account you’ve read War and Peace, I think you may find this enjoyable.” Julian had it in his hand before I had a chance to reply. He knew his way around the collection almost supernaturally.
I received the book with gratitude. Then, clearing my voice, I announced, “I probably should mention that I’m seeing your daughter.” This wasn’t easy, but the last thing I desired was that Julian heard it from another source or encountered an image of us kissing on the streets of LA. Which would surely surface sooner or later, considering I hadn’t hidden my passion for Clarissa.
“Oh, right, yes…” he said, shifting his glasses. I’d thrown him a curve ball.
“I was hoping for your blessing.” My muscles tightened.
Julian opened out his hands. “As long as Clarissa is happy, I’m happy.” His voice had a tinge of hesitancy about it.
Unable to leave it there, I said, “You sound concerned.”
“Clarissa is a sensitive girl.” Julian paused to reflect. “She was never the same after her mother died. Before that, she was an excitable, bubbly child, full of drive and joyful creativity. Very much like her mother, who was equally remarkable—that’s where Clarissa gets her beauty.” His eyes drooped wistfully at the mention of his late wife. “When my wife died, Clarissa was eight. For one whole year, she didn’t speak. The shock was that extreme.”
Shit.
“Anyway…” He sighed slowly. “She eventually snapped out of it, and one day she just talked again. But something in her had changed. Lately, I’ve seen a glimpse of that l
ittle girl—the bubbly, excitable child.” He looked at me, a faint smile forming. “Now I know why.”
My chest finally filled with air. “Mr. Moone, I mean, Julian, I have no intention of hurting your daughter.” How can I? I’m fucking head over heels…
“Mr. Thornhill…”
“Aidan. Call me Aidan.”
“Clarissa’s been a model daughter.” Julian brimmed with parental pride. “In that, she’s never given me cause to fuss or worry. On Saturday nights, instead of pestering me to let her out, which I would’ve allowed, of course”—he chuckled— “she preferred to stay home and either paint, read, or watch a classic movie with me.” Although Julian struck me as the stoical kind, his voice was thick with emotion.
“You have some reservations, Julian?” I asked.
“Only that my daughter is young for her years, due to this lack of experience.”
“Julian, I have no intention of hurting her. My feelings are genuine. That’s her charm—Clarissa’s pure heart and spirit. I just want you to know so that we can be together without sneaking around.”
“Yes, yes, I can see that, Aidan,” he said. “And you have my blessing. I only told you this because Clarissa is as fragile as a rose in the hot sun.”
I exhaled slowly. “Love makes us all a little vulnerable, Julian.”
Julian held onto his chin pensively, nodding slowly. “Quite so, Aidan, quite so.” Pain glistened in his eyes. It was obvious that Clarissa’s mother remained deeply etched into his soul.
I left the library lighter knowing that I’d made my connection with Clarissa official. Julian’s shared insights made my desire for Clarissa even stronger—if that were at all possible, considering how much I already wanted her. As I sat staring at my empty suitcase, with my head in my hands, all I could think of was how Clarissa would take me once she learnt of my past.
Eight-year-old Clarissa, taciturn and frozen, entered my thoughts. A childhood interrupted by trauma. I’d confused that lost expression for innocence. It explained the silent treatment, the insecurity, the sad glint in those doleful eyes. Having witnessed animation leave my best friend’s once expressive eyes, I knew how it felt to lose someone close. That dark, vein-icing moment still haunted my sleep— his lifeless eyes staring at me so lucidly was suffocating.
A knock at the door made me jump. Such was the muddle of contemplation besieging me.
“Sorry if I startled you,” said Greta as I stood aside to allow her passage.
My aunt had totally shed the serious persona I’d come to recognize. Apart from the change in clothes, she’d colored her hair, taken to wearing make-up, and was generally in a gay mood. Although I found this rather baffling, I was nevertheless pleased.
As my father’s twin, Greta was the mother I should’ve had. She had cared for me with the intent of reversing the neglect I’d suffered as a young child.
“I’m just packing. I have to leave soon.” I glanced down at my watch.
Greta’s eyes fell on the two books I was about to pack away. “You’ve been to see Julian?”
“Yep. I picked up something to read. He’s a knowledgeable man.” I opened my closet and selected my warmest winter jacket. “He’s a calming influence, much like his daughter.”
“Aha…” Greta lingered. I could tell she wanted to say something.
“So, Greta, what’s up?”
“I spoke to Grant earlier.” She shifted nervously. “He mentioned you introduced him to Clarissa, and in his words, you were all over her.”
“And?” I asked, shrugging.
“Aidan, she’s a lovely, gentle, and sensitive girl. I don’t want to see you hurt her. I’ve grown rather fond of her.”
Despite being annoyed at the assumption that I would hurt Clarissa, I was touched that Greta cared so much for her. Instead of giving her any stay-out-of- my-life bullshit, I kissed Greta on the cheek. “We’re good, real good. I’ve never felt this way before.” My eyes went misty.
Oh Christ, tears? No! I’m tougher than that.
“She’s not like the others. That’s plain enough. I just needed to understand,” said Greta.
I exhaled a slow breath. “She sure isn’t like the others.” I combed back my hair. “I’m in there for the long haul, Greta. I mean it.”
We regarded each other silently. A very faint smile grew on my aunt’s face.
“She’s the best event organizer we’ve ever had, Aidan. I’d hate to lose her.”
“You will. I’ve got other plans for Clarissa.” I kissed Greta on the cheek. “I better get cracking. See you in a couple weeks. I’ll stay in touch.” As she was about to leave, I added, “Oh, and Julian Moone’s a decent man.” I smiled and raised my eyebrows.
Greta responded with a blush and a rarely seen wide smile.
As I snapped shut my luggage, I was already missing Clarissa. I’d only dropped her off at the cottage two hours earlier. My lips had devoured her. And Clarissa had ended up pushing me out the door, giggling. God, I wished I could record that giggle. It was such a turn-on.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CLARISSA
Roaming around the cottage in a haze, I’d lost count of how many times I’d entered my bedroom. I was facing two weeks without Aidan. Would he come and say goodbye? He’d already done that one hour earlier when dropping me off. Another good-bye was highly improbable, and it was ridiculous for me to even want that. This need I’d developed for Aidan was frightening. He’d become an addiction.
My swimsuit dangled in my hand. I was off for a swim to clear my head. Opting for my sensible one-piece, I left the red skimpy ones on the bed.
A knock came at the door just as I was about to change. Wrapping my sarong around me, I went to answer it.
Aidan stood before me, dressed in beige chinos and a linen shirt that was fluttering in the breeze. My eyes went to his shapely pectorals covered with a sprinkling of hair. With that panty-wetting smile, Aidan’s eyes darkened when he noticed the skimpy sarong covering my otherwise bare body.
I stepped away from the door and let him in. My heart was beating fast, which was crazy considering I’d only seen him one hour earlier.
“I’ve come to say farewell. I didn’t do it properly last time,” said Aidan, his lust-filled eyes moving up and down my body.
Before I could speak, Aidan took me into his arms. My sarong had come off. A growl vibrated off his chest as his hands ran up and down my body. “I wish I could take you with me.” His mouth was on mine, groaning as he cupped my heavy breasts. I heard his zipper, and my core clenched.
“I can’t leave you alone, Clarissa. Why aren’t you coming with me?” He pulled away. He looked fragile suddenly. Aidan was suffering as much as I was.
My heart was full. “I have to get the gala together.” I bent down to pick up my sarong.
He stopped me. “Don’t. Let me look at you.” His hands crept up my leg.
Oh, how I wanted him to take me again and again.
“Clarissa, my little angel, you’re so ready,” he rasped. His finger circled my clit, and I started to writhe against his hard body.
Aidan waltzed me to the wall, and draping my leg over his curvy, veiny bicep, he penetrated deeply into me. “This will be quick,” he said hoarsely. His large, hard cock stretched me so divinely I expelled a hungry moan.
It was wild and hot. His lips on mine, devouring me, making me lose control as fireballs mushroomed before me. I gasped, while Aidan shuddered and groaned through a jaw-clenching release.
When our breathing stilled, I unraveled from his tight hold. “Aidan, you really should go.”
Aidan combed back his hair with his hands. “I’ll call you.” He kissed me and left.
Just as I watched Aidan moving away in the distance, my phone buzzed. I pressed the button. “Hi, Tabs.”
“First you miss my birthday lunch. And now you don’t deliver on the breakfast you promised.”
“I’m so sorry.” I sighed wearily. “This thing with Aidan
is intense. He’s off to Germany today. That’s why he wanted to spend the day with me. I’ll make it up to you.”
“It’s cool, Clary. I get it. You’re with the hottest guy in the universe. I would’ve done the same. You wouldn’t have seen me for dust.” She chuckled. “But listen, something’s happened. I really need to see you desperately.”
“What?”
“Can we meet?”
I looked at my watch. It was eleven. “I’ll meet you for lunch in an hour.”
By midday I was sitting at a vegetarian diner with Tabitha. I figured I needed something healthy after all the hamburgers and yummy junk food I’d eaten recently.
After we ordered, I faced Tabitha, who was quieter than usual. “So, what’s happened?”
“I’ve left Josh.” Tabitha’s eyes evaded my imploring gape.
“Why? I thought you were crazy about him. And he’s a really decent guy.”
“That’s the reason.” Tabitha bit into her nails.
“You’re not back with Steve, are you?” I was so perplexed I sounded like a scolding mother.
“No way. I’ll never go back to him.” She paused. “Josh was too gushy. You know me. I need tension.” Her eyes kindled playfully.
“You’re a fucking nut-job,” I said, sipping on my juice. “Why are you like this, Tabitha? Are you determined to be a masochist?”
“No, I’m not, and anyhow, I’ve met someone.” She peered up at me, a wicked smile forming on her lips.
“What? So soon!”
Tabitha raised a brow.
“Shit, Tabs. You met him and then dumped Josh?”
A glint of guilt coated her big green eyes. I could tell she’d had hot sex. Tabitha had a post-orgasmic glow about her.
“When did this happen? Because we were meant to have lunch together, Josh included. And that was only twenty-four hours ago.”
She laughed at my incredulous tone. “Oh, Clary.” She touched my hand. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
