Mastered 2: Ten Tales of Sensual Surrender (20 page)

Chapter Ten

Susannah

‘So? What happened to you with the sexy biker, you naughty girl?’

Maggie leans forwards across the table. We’re in the canteen and it’s the first time we’ve been able to chat since Ben and Sarah’s wedding reception.

We’re just three today, as our fourth is somewhere gorgeous with her gorgeous new husband, having lots of gorgeous and probably very kinky sex.

Beside Maggie is Rachel, who, to my mind, has a dreamy, vaguely secretive expression on her face. As if she too had an adventure the other night.

‘Nothing,’ I lie. ‘It… um… turns out we know each other from way back, so we just spent some time together, reminiscing over a drink.’

Maggie’s eyes go narrow. ‘What, until the small hours? And where? I never saw you once after you swept off into the bar with him.’

I feel myself getting hot and blushing. ‘He had a room. We chatted there.’

Rachel’s grin broadens, confirming my suspicion that she too has recent experience of rooms, whether at The Retreat or elsewhere. Maybe I can distract attention from me by directing it elsewhere?

‘I’ll bet,’ says Maggie. ‘From the way he was looking at you, that must have been some chat.’

We’re lunching, but I’m not eating much. I try a bite of my salad to give myself breathing space. ‘Well, what about you two? I never saw either of you later.’ No need to mention I couldn’t have seen them anyway.

Maggie gives me an assessing look and seems to decide not to push. ‘Well, I hung out with Alastair and socialised in general. But I don’t have any idea what
she
got up to’—she nods at Rachel—‘because after her little incident, she was never seen again for the rest of the night.’

Now it’s Rachel’s turn to blush.

‘What “incident”?’ I’m intrigued. Did Rache meet someone too?

‘It was nothing really. No biggie,’ she says in a way that suggests it was a very big deal indeed.

‘Bollocks!’ proclaims Maggie. ‘She only slammed straight into Lawrence Brady by not looking where she was going, and their drinks went all over the place,
and
all over both of them.’ She nods significantly. ‘Two seconds later, they disappeared to clean up and never came back!’

Oh wow. Way to go, Rachel. Although I’m trying to figure out who this Lawrence Brady is. ‘Who’s Lawrence Brady when he’s all at home?’

Maggie rolls her eyes. ‘
Brady
. Think about it.’

The penny drops. ‘You mean “Brady” as in Freeman-Brady?’

‘The very same! She only chucked her drink all over the managing director of the entire Freeman-Brady group and then went on and pulled him, the floozy!’ Maggie leans in. ‘He’s a bit on the old side, of course, but still looks pretty tasty. If I weren’t spoken for, I might have given him a whirl. Apparently he’s a friend of Ben’s family, and that’s how he came to hire Ben for the troubleshooter gig.’

‘He’s not old!’ protests Rachel, vehement. ‘He’s only in his forties, and he’s incredibly fit. His hair turned silver prematurely, that’s all. He’s really a young man, relatively speaking.’

Whoa, she did click with him! We both got lucky. A pang of yearning slices me again, a longing for more than just a one-night ‘click’ with my man. I just hope it’s more for Rachel. If that’s what she wants.

‘You sly minx! Are you going to see him again?’ Metaphorically I cross my fingers for my friend.

‘I… I don’t know.’

Uh-oh, the look on her face reveals all. She’s fallen for him. Maybe as hard as I’ve fallen—again—for Jamie. I just hope she’s not heading for a world of pain. Even if I am.

‘Are you going to see yours?’ she shoots back, and I know she knows my score too. My friend is empathic, perhaps the most so of all of us.

‘I don’t know.’ I shrug, not caring now whether they know I’m in too deep or not.

Where is Jamie now? I hope he’s not angry with me. I hope he can think fondly of our kinky interlude.

I hope I didn’t hurt him the way I hurt him before.

Thoughtful silence falls for a while. We’re all mulling over men: Rachel and her silver fox, me and my biker from the past with his curtain of black hair and his penetrating green eyes.

Maggie and… oh, bloody hell, what is that on her finger? Now who’s the sly minx?

‘Mags, what the hell is that?’ I cry, causing heads to turn as I grab her hand.

The diamond on her engagement finger is exquisite. Not an Elizabeth Taylor rock, but still quite a dazzler.

‘Oh, Mags, when did that happen?’ demands Rachel, grinning for her friend, her own man questions temporarily forgotten.

Me, I’m thrilled. Alastair is a lovely man, and he adores Mags.

‘At the reception. He asked me out on the terrace.’ She’s pink in the face with happiness. No complications there. They’re a perfect couple. ‘We decided not to say anything because it was Sarah and Ben’s day and we didn’t want to distract anybody’s attention from that.’

The rest of the lunch break whirls into a happy babble of questions about Mags and Alastair and their plans for a wedding and the future. Now and again, wistfulness winds through me as I wish I were doing the planning of a life ahead. I know that’s what I want now, with Jamie, but I’m able to squelch my own feelings so I can be happy and thrilled for my friend.

Oh Jamie, why the hell did I run? I’m such an idiot. Why the hell didn’t I at least get your number?

I look at Mags, and the dazzling glow of her happiness is like a call to action, making me determined.

By hook or by crook, I’ll reach out to Jamie, and I’ll explain myself, tell him how I feel. If he doesn’t feel the same so be it… all well and good. At least I tried, and maybe we can still be friends, because I’d rather have that than never to see him again.

The idea buoys me up.

I can put this right.

I
can
get my man. Or at least try…

Chapter Eleven

Susannah

It’s week later. I still haven’t been in touch with Jamie. But, I’ve decided the best way is to discreetly ask Sarah to ask Ben for his contact details, and the happy couple are still on honeymoon for a while yet.

I’m getting impatient though, and almost to the point of doing something drastic and contacting Jamie via some other means. Of course he has an online presence just as everyone does. But Lennox-Tech is all business, not personal, and everything else I find is impersonal too, no details for the actual man rather than the public figure.

I do find out he’s pretty distinguished in his field. He’s worked on security solutions for multinational companies and financial institutions that are household names. He’s a big wheel, a very big wheel. And according to a very skimpy Wikipedia stub, his expertise has made him a very wealthy man too. It’s a bit weird that there’s so very little information about him, but then again, it’s maybe not surprising. A digital-security specialist must know better than anybody how to keep his private life private.

When it comes down to it, the only other way to contact him is via his family—which could be embarrassing for him, something I know he’d hate. I’ll just have to wait. Another week or so won’t kill me. It might actually be better this way and give me more time to think about what I’m going to say to him.

Such as…

Even though I as good as dumped you all those years ago, I’ve still been secretly in love with you all this time. So secretly I didn’t realize it myself.

I’ve dug out some old photos, and like a lovesick ninny, I’m carrying one around with me. Sliding it out of my bag now, I grab a swift peek before I leave the Freeman-Brady building. I’m walking home tonight as part of my health and fitness routine—getting into shape in hopes of showing my body more often if things go well—so I’ve changed into jeans and walking shoes in the work’s cloakroom. One little Jamie ogle-fest will give me a boost for the five-mile hike.

He was so cute back then, sharp-featured and skinny, like a dark imp, mischievous, almost elfin. But now, seasoned by the years, he’s amazing. A mysterious prince of shadows, lean and strong and full of power, his sexual predilections a perfect match for what mine are becoming. He’s the perfect master to educate me and to take me to that next level that Sarah and Maggie inhabit, and beyond.

Between us just being friends too, of course, and having the sort of relationship we should have had if I hadn’t been so short-sighted and craven all those years ago.

Like a twit, I kiss the photo, which shows Jamie lounging on an old rug, on the grass in the park near to where we both used to live. His bare chest looks a bit scrawny in the pic, but now he has sleek and toned pectorals and a nicely developed six-pack.

Stop faffing about, Suze. It’s a long walk.

There’s a low wall across the forecourt from the front entrance to Freeman-Brady, and just beyond it, propped up on its stand presumably, is a midnight-blue motorcycle. A man clad in black leather is sitting on the wall, facing away from me, a black motorcycle helmet at his side.

His long, silky black hair gleams in the low afternoon sunshine.

Oh God. Oh Hell. It’s him.

My feet are rooted to the spot. This is what I wanted, more than anything in the world, but now I’m afraid. I’m not sure how I’d planned for us to meet again. I hadn’t got that far. Maybe we’d go out on a date? Have a nice dinner and a drink, a chance to talk, for me to explain my craziness. But now he’s here and all I want is to throw myself into his arms and drag him off somewhere where we can be alone, a place where we can fuck. Somewhere where we can do more of what we did back at The Retreat. Even his back looks godlike and dominant. It does things to my knees, like making them want to bend so I can kneel down before him and worship him. Maybe unfasten his leather trousers too.

All this dithering madness goes through my head in about a tenth of a second, just about the time it takes for him to twist around and look at me as if he’s read my thoughts from a distance.

He doesn’t smile at first. He just gives me a long, intent look while I stare gormlessly at him. I swear my mouth has dropped open, and I’m almost salivating, as if he’s the most delicious meal in the world and I’ve been starving for a decade. Then he does crack a smile, as if I look just as silly as I feel, but his face is warm and genuinely happy. He
is
as glad to see me as I am to see him, I can swear it!

Swinging his long legs over the wall, he stands up and walks towards me, looking dark and dangerous in his leather and the black T-shirt he has on beneath his jacket. His boots make him look even more intimidating and like a master, but in the best possible way. Desire grabs me low in the gut, heavy and delicious and almost instantaneous. I want to be in bed with him. Immediately. Oh heck, what sort of state is my flat in? Was it a tip when I left this morning? Hell, I don’t think I even made the bed.

When he’s standing in front of me, right in front of me, looking down, I don’t know what to say. A million emotions are churning about, too many to express. But his eyes are brilliant, deep and wise, as if he knows my confusion, and when he gives a wry little shrug, I realise that he’s feeling some of the same inner turmoil himself.

And, goddammit, here’s
here
, isn’t he? He’s come to me when by rights he should have never wanted to see me again, ever, considering that I’ve run out on him, more or less, twice already.

‘I didn’t mean to just rush off like that,’ I manage to force out, sounding frazzled, ‘I… I didn’t—’

He reaches for my hand. ‘It’s all right. You don’t have to explain anything.’ His fingers tighten and his thumb moves gently, caressingly. ‘As long as you’re not going to run out on me now, we’re good.’ His eyes narrow slightly, and he fixes me with that dark, dazzling green intensity. ‘If you’re not interested, just say so now, and I’ll be on my bike and away again. No hard feelings.’ The thumb moves again, coaxing, cajoling. ‘But I think we have unfinished business, you and I. The business of being good for one another, me broadening your horizons, and you… well, you letting me. If you’re willing?’ Suddenly he snags his lower lip with his white teeth, transformed back into the tender young man who loved me again. ‘And maybe more than that, if we give it a bit of time.’

I feel as if I’m floating up in the air with relief. I feel as if I want to whirl around, dancing and singing. I almost would do, but that would mean letting go of Jamie’s warm, caressing hand, his gentle, kind hand that can do fearsomely powerful and commanding, and deliciously painful things, if I want it to.

‘Are you all right?’ He grins at me now.

Obviously my crazy inner feelings are clear on my face, and I look like a lunatic. ‘I’m fine. I’m more than fine. Just glad you’re here. I’ve wanted to contact you, but… Well, I was waiting to get your number from Sarah and Ben. I didn’t want to contact you through your business details or via your family. I wanted to explain. To tell you that I made a mistake, rushing off. And before, really… you know, when we first knew each other.’

Now I sound like a loony too, a babbling fool. What must he think of me?

But I can tell what he thinks. Suddenly it’s on his face in a happy look. A look of relief that matches mine. He isn’t the master from the bedroom, or the young lad who took my virginity. He’s just a man who’s glad to hear what I’ve just said. Because it was what he wanted to hear.

‘I told you. You don’t have to explain anything, Suzie.’ He takes my face in his hands, angling it so we’re looking into each other’s eyes. Compelling me to drown in the radiant green beauty of his gaze. Slowly, measuredly, he presses his lips against mine and gives me an almost reverent kiss. There’s nothing sexy, no tongues, just a communion. It lasts but a moment, but it’s deep, deep, deep.

‘If anything, I’m the one who should be explaining.’ He makes a little quirk of the lips, not exactly shamefaced, but something like that. ‘I’ve been in America on business. Brokering a deal. But I shouldn’t have just dashed off either.
I
should have contacted
you
.’

I press forward. Steal another kiss.

‘So we’re both at fault, then, eh? Sounds like that fresh start idea would be the best thing for both of us.’

‘Like I said.’ He arches a dark eyebrow at me. ‘And now we’ve got that out of the way, why don’t we just go somewhere and have ourselves some fun?’

I want to jump up and down again. That, or just jump on top of Jamie in a bed. For the moment, I’m not even bothered about playing BDSM games. I just want to be with him, skin to skin.

‘Do you want to come back to my place? It might be a bit of a tip though. I’m still just as messy as I always was.’

‘I thought we might celebrate at The Retreat again.’ He looks a teeny tiny bit smug now. ‘I booked us a suite there, just in case.’

Wow. Just like that. I’m not into money per se, but it’s nice that he’s doing very well for himself, and I’m pleased for him.

‘Cool! That’s brilliant. But how are we going to get there?’ I eye his motorbike, propped on its stand. It looks a powerful beast—the steed of another powerful beast—and I’ve never been astride one.

‘Well, you’ve got jeans and proper shoes on, and I’ve got a spare helmet in the box.’ He nods at the moulded luggage box behind the passenger seat. ‘So I thought I might whisk you there on the bike. Are you game for that?’

‘I… I don’t know. I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle.’

‘You’ll love it. You just have to trust me.’ He winks suddenly, and boyishly says, ‘You trusted me when we were last at The Retreat, and that turned out okay, didn’t it?’

More than okay. I feel myself blushing, remembering the pleasure and the strange way that pain had intensified it.

‘Well yes, but there was no traffic involved, and there was just us two, and no powerful, high-speed machine.’ I’m wavering. Tempted. It’d be a different kind of thrill. A different ‘first’ shared with the man who’s been there for most of my significant grown-up firsts. ‘All right then, but not too fast, eh?’

Jamie beams. ‘I’ll keep it very sedate. I promise. Are you game for The Retreat too? I can always just take you home if you prefer.’

I think of my slummy flat with nobody waiting there for me. No flatmate, no pet even, and not a single thing planned for the weekend. ‘Yeah, I’d love to go to The Retreat. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say. Now let’s see this helmet.’

Within moments, I have it on, a sleek, dark blue job that matches the bike. It’s an open-faced, girlie helmet, and for an instant unfocused jealousy spears me. Who else has ridden on this bike with him? What other woman has he spirited away for sex, either vanilla or kinky? But I squelch the feeling, and hopefully I wasn’t looking at Jamie when it hit me. With my bag safely tucked in the luggage box, I listen to Jamie’s instructions for riding.

‘All you have to do is hold on to me, round my middle, and just relax. Don’t try to consciously lean into curves. Your body will know what to do, so just stay loose and follow me. Got it?’ He pauses to pull on his helmet, which is full face and somewhat intimidating in a Darth Vader sort of way. It’ll be even more so when he flips down the visor. ‘If you get scared and you don’t like it, just give me a slap and I’ll stop. That’ll be our biking equivalent of “emerald”. Are you cool with that?’

I nod, just as determined as I was back at The Retreat not to utilise the get-out of the safe word.

When he’s shown me the foot pegs and the best way to get astride, he kicks the bike off its rest and braces it with his strong, lean thighs. ‘Okay, Suzie, hop on!’

It’s maybe not the most graceful of mounts, but I manage it and find myself rather liking the feel of the power and solidity of the machine between my thighs. In fact, I grin and almost giggle, thinking of a different kind of power at work between my legs. Jamie twists round to check on me, and beneath his flipped-up visor, he grins at me as if he’s read the thought.

‘Right oh, then. Ready?’

‘As I’ll ever be!’

He flips down his visor, straightens, and starts the engine, gunning it in the best boy-racer style. I wrap my arms around him like an anaconda, and after a micropause, in which he assesses my hold and deems it safe, we’re off and rolling.

My panic lasts barely a heartbeat, and then I start to love it!

Jamie

She gets it. She really gets it. I know I said I’d keep it slow, but I open up just a little on a long, clear stretch of road. Her grip on me tightens, but there’s no slap. I can feel the excitement in her body as it transmits itself through the leather at my back.

Cruising along feels so comfortable, so right. It’s not sex—although I’ve got a hard-on—but it’s still a kind of communion, a deep and physical closeness and a harbinger of things to come. I feel like we’re flying together. That everything’s all right. And I want more of this, as well as the fucking and the power play we’ll soon be enjoying.

Does Suzie want what I want? What I
really
want? It’s hard to tell. She’s up for broadening her horizons, but she never really answered my hint about ‘maybe more’.

Inwardly I tell myself to cool it. Just take what’s on offer, man. Don’t push. Don’t pressure. Don’t try to control outside the bedroom. She’ll come around when she’s ready, and if she wants to. And in the meantime, I’ll just enjoy the time together. Enjoy her wit and intelligence, her touch and her kindness, and her gorgeous body.