Season of Desire: Complete Edition (34 page)

Oh God . . . this is too much for me, I’m going to come . . . Fuck me harder . . .

The clip seems to tighten around my clit as it swells again, making divine sensations wash over me. It’s no good, I’m going to come, I can’t help it . . .

He seems to see how close I am and the dildo drives even deeper inside me, thick and hard. My limbs stiffen as the bliss builds in my pelvis and with a shout I’m possessed by great shudders of delight as the orgasm grabs me and shakes me in its ecstatic grip. The waves come again and again until, at last, I’m left panting and helpless.

My teacher pulls out the shiny dildo, wet with my honeyed juice. Then he opens his robe and reveals his own hard shaft, standing upright and ready.

I sigh with pleasure and let my knees fall open on the bed.
Oh yes, please . . . I want this . . .

In a smooth movement, he’s between my legs, his chest hard on my breasts, making those little bronze squares nip me even harder. The clit clip is still there and now his groin is pressing hard on mine, his cock at my slippery entrance. Then his magnificent erection slides up inside me. I groan as it hits the top of my vagina, squashing the little tassels against my soft flesh. Then he begins to fuck me, his mouth taking possession of mine. I hold him to me, my hands roaming over his broad back under the silk robe, clasping his firm buttocks, urging him deeper inside.

We fuck hard and fast, kissing and moaning, our bodies giving each other the greatest of pleasure as his cock dives into my velvet depths. On and on we go, thrusting in time with each other until, at last, we dissolve into the beauty of our mutual orgasm, both surrendering to the joyous bliss we’ve given one another, collapsing under the force of our ecstasy until we lie together, panting and spent.

When we’re showered and refreshed, we make supper from leftovers in the fridge, and eat them while chatting idly and laughing. We don’t talk about the extraordinary lesson he’s just given me. The teacher and Winter are part of a particular existence. Now we’re Miles and Freya.

Later we watch a movie cuddled up together on the sofa. It’s one of his favourites,
Sullivan’s Travels
directed by Preston Sturges.

I’m enjoying the movie, luxuriating in being near him, feeling the pounding of his heart through his cashmere jumper, when I’m struck by a strange thought.

This isn’t a lesson. This is . . . romantic.

An odd sensation courses through me, as though I’ve just missed my footing or had a rug slip beneath me. The agreement was that we would have our lessons, there was never any promise of anything else. And yet – so many of the physical things we’ve shared over the past few days have been spontaneously affectionate. Yes, they were all laced with the sexual desire we feel for one another. We can’t get close to each other without the air crackling with the electric hunger we have for one another’s body. But when we kissed on the slopes yesterday, or in the sleigh on the way home, anyone would have taken us for a couple in the grip of a love affair, not simply sharing their sexual needs.

And look at me now – I’m in a borrowed robe, and we’re snuggled up in front of the fire.
I shake my head.
This is weird.

‘What is it?’ he asks, noticing my movement, distracted from the film. ‘Are you okay?’

I feel shy suddenly. I’m staring down at the belt I’ve tied around my waist and the way the pattern on the fabric disappears in the knot. ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ I say quietly.

He clicks the movie on to pause, and squeezes me again. ‘Come on, sweetheart. What is it? You can tell me.’

‘I . . .’ I take a deep breath and glance up at him, catching those intense blue eyes before looking quickly away. The power of them is sometimes too much for me. ‘I just wondered about what’s going to happen when all of this is over.’

There. I said it.

He’s looking at me, his eyes expressionless. ‘No one knows what happens when all of this is over. Maybe nothing.’

My heart sinks and I can feel my face fall in disappointment.

He continues, ‘It all depends if you believe in God or not. Or maybe in reincarnation. Or the spirits of the trees and the stones. But to be honest, I don’t have a clue.’

I see a glint of mischief in his eyes and pound him crossly, laughing despite myself. ‘Not when
life
is over! I mean this! Our time in this beautiful place.’ I look around at the pretty interior of the chalet, with its nod to the Swiss peasant culture in the red and white cushions and the heart-shaped cut-outs in the chairs. First we were in a kind of hovel together, shut away from the world and everyone’s prying eyes. Now we’re here, in a more beautiful and comfortable version of the same thing.
With proper bathrooms this time, thank goodness. And without the fear of imminent death.
Nevertheless I am afraid; I’m worried that this is the last time Miles and I will be together like this and that this lovely dream is nearly over. I’m supposed to be heading back. Soon I’ll get an email from Jane-Elizabeth, under instructions from my father, wanting to know my whereabouts and what my movements are. I gaze at Miles, hoping my vulnerability isn’t showing in my eyes. ‘What’s going to happen to
us
?’

Just as I feared, Miles’s eyes darken. When that happens, they seem to go a shade that’s almost navy, the dark rim around his iris fading into the muted colour. He looks away from me.

My throat is dry suddenly. I should never have asked him this question, not yet. I should have kept my worries to myself and let him bring it up in his own time. Now he’s going to feel pressured. Our beautiful arrangement based on pure longing for one another will be ruined, because of my thoughtless questions.

‘The truth is, Freya,’ he says at last, ‘the truth is that I don’t know.’

My fingers are fiddling nervously with the knot on my belt. ‘You don’t know?’ I ask hesitantly.

He shakes his head, his lips in a straight line. His arm slips away from around my shoulders. ‘I can’t pretend to you – well, I guess I could but I don’t want to. What we’ve been doing is glorious, amazing, mind-blowing.’ There’s a tiny pause as we both remember some of the more exquisite moments we’ve shared in the last few days. ‘But . . .’

The but. Oh no. Not the but.

He hesitates. My stomach is doing all kinds of wild gymnastic routines while I wait the age it takes for him to speak again. When he does, his voice is low and he is still studying something of intense interest on the floor.

‘I don’t know what you want, but you’re very young, Freya. I’m older than you, and a lot more world-weary. I’ve seen a lot of bad things in my time. Believe me, you don’t know how bad.’ He pauses and I wait, desperate for him to continue. I want to say something but I bite my tongue, sensing that I have to let him speak in his own time. ‘There are reasons why it suits me to be employed by your father. His intense need for privacy and security work for me right now.’

‘Why?’ I ask timidly, unable to hold it in. ‘Are you running away from something?’

He glances at me swiftly and laughs one of those hollow, mirthless laughs. ‘You could put it like that. Yes.’

‘Is it . . .’ I don’t know why the thought strikes me, but it does. ‘. . . A woman?’

An awful expression crosses his face. It’s so brief I almost think I imagined it but I know I didn’t: it’s utter pain.

‘Yes,’ he whispers. ‘In a way. Yes.’

My heart plummets. I replay that fleeting expression in my mind again. It was a look of unbearable trauma. Whoever she is, it’s clear he still loves her, or, at least, isn’t over her.

Bleak disappointment races through me.
That’s why he wanted this situation to have limits. That’s why we had to agree that what happened in the hut would stay there. He belongs to someone else.

The minute I think it, I can’t believe I haven’t considered it before. Then I remember our time together in the hut, when he told me that he didn’t have a girlfriend.
But that doesn’t mean he’s not still in love with an ex.

A cold thought hits me like a punch.

And despite everything that’s happened between us, it hasn’t been enough to shake her from his heart. All this time he’d rather have been with her.

What hold must this woman have over him?

Miles is staring at me, and I suppose he must be watching a variety of emotions flit across my face. He says, ‘It’s not what you’re thinking.’

I look up at him with hope in my eyes. ‘She’s not on the scene any more?’

‘Nope.’ He shakes his head slowly. ‘She’s dead.’

I gape at him, horrified. ‘Oh my God, Miles, I’m so sorry. That’s terrible.’

He looks away. ‘It’s fine, really. Do you mind if we just watch the movie now?’

Later that night I’m dozing in Miles’s arms, still wondering what his dead girlfriend means to him. I don’t know how I can live up to a woman who might well have attained saintly proportions by now. Despite loving the movie and enjoying the way I was sharing one of Miles’s passions with him, I couldn’t help the bleak feeling that kept creeping into my heart. After all of this, it seemed that it had meant nothing to Miles. Maybe a sticking plaster for a wounded heart, but little more than that. We would go home now and things would return to normal.

Normal?

I picture my everyday existence with its flurry of activity that really adds up to nothing much: the whirl of socialising, the preening and pampering, the rounds of shopping to keep up with the very latest of everything. And for what? What does it all really achieve? It doesn’t make me happy, I know that. Beneath the cheerfulness I summon up to show my friends, I feel constantly sad and angry – something I can hardly admit even to myself.

Miles has made me happy. He really has, and not just because of the divine sex he’s introduced to me. Even though I always knew that this was no-strings attached, he’s made me feel cherished and loved in a way I haven’t for ages. For as long as I can remember, in fact. And he’s made me feel protected too. The idea of losing that feeling is like walking naked into a snowstorm. I don’t want to return to the chilly loneliness of my daily life.

I look at him as he sleeps beside me. He’s turned towards me so that I can see the finely moulded shape of his lips and his long straight nose, his eyes closed. One arm is bent under his head and the other is flung out towards me, the fingers reaching out over the sheets as though he wants to touch me even in his sleep. I reach out my hand and brush the tips of his fingers with mine. His hand twitches and he sighs.

Oh Miles. What am I going to do without you?

I tell myself that he’ll still be close to me, that perhaps we can continue our lessons in other places – at home, in planned locations – but I fear that Miles won’t want that. He’s suggested nothing of the sort.

A tear leaks out from under my lashes, followed by another.

I don’t want to lose you. I’d give anything to be back in the storm in that hovel, if it meant I could be with you.

Chapter Eighteen

The next day we pack up to leave the chalet.

The chef arrives to make us breakfast, as Miles thinks we require a little more than eggs on our last day. He’s a tall, red-faced man with enormous ears, who says little but produces a hearty meal to sustain us on the journey home.

It’s only when our bags are at the door and we’re upstairs waiting for our cars to collect us that I say casually to Miles: ‘So – what happens after this?’

I’m sitting on the sofa while he’s standing by the window looking out over the magnificent view, clouded over today with a hint of bad weather to come. He looks ready to be on his way in a Belstaff black leather aviator jacket and sunglasses. My skin tingles at the sight of him, remembering the delicious early morning sex we shared when we woke up. It was not the long, erotic experience of my lessons, but the kind I love almost as much: straightforward but intense as he kissed me deeply, parted my legs and pushed in the hot hardness of his morning erection. I wrapped my legs around his thighs, and we ran a fast course of deep, satisfying fucking that ended in crackling, electric orgasms that exploded swiftly over us.

I wanted to speak to him then, as we pulled apart in that hot post-sex sweat and dampness, but he was out and striding to the shower almost at once. The time wasn’t right to broach the issue.

He turns to me now, his expression inscrutable and his eyes hidden behind the mirrored shades. ‘After this?’ He smiles suddenly, making happiness course through me. I’d do anything for that smile. ‘Well, Winter, I think you’ve learned just about all I can teach you for now.’

‘I don’t think so,’ I say softly. ‘I think there’s more to learn. And I need to consolidate my knowledge. You don’t ask a girl to take her driving test after just one lesson.’

He laughs. ‘True.’ Pulling off his shades, he walks towards me and sits down beside me on the sofa. ‘But how long can this go on for? We can’t both keep escaping from our lives like this – even though it’s been a beautiful experience.’

‘Has it?’ It comes out almost in a whisper and I realise how badly I want him to have loved this as much as I have.

He takes my hand. ‘Of course it has.’ His other hand reaches out to stroke my hair and he looks at me with tenderness. ‘You’ve trusted me completely. That’s meant so much. You can’t know how much.’