Story of Us trilogy 01: TouchStone for Play (53 page)

“Enjoying,” I reply candidly.

“Me too.”

Like the shutter on a camera, I close my
eyes, memorising every inch of him, rescuing my body from his potent stare and
mentally preparing myself for the longest three days of my life.

The aroma of home-cooked food and Elise
makes Dan a little lightheaded. Not because it or she affects him viscerally,
but because he hasn’t eaten a decent meal since, well he can’t remember when.
The whiff of garlic, onions and roast beef tantalises his taste buds while her
floral fragrance evokes a memory of wild, open spaces and childhood.

The pub lunch is the least romantic option
but it suits them both. They order food at the bar and find an out of the way
seat where they can hear themselves speak, yet are still within earshot of the
TV. Thinking ahead, Dan wants to avoid any awkward silences and is using the TV
as back-up; if all else fails they can talk about the news.

As luck would have it, there is little
need of CNN and the conversation is fluid. He embellishes a couple of
university anecdotes and she amuses him with stories about viewings and courses
she’s attended. She talks. He listens and takes it all in.

Twenty minutes in, the food arrives. They
tuck into two ploughman’s lunches and a basket of chips, hardly noticing the
passing of time. The awkwardness that was evident two days ago has merged into
a mutual understanding; they’re two friends having lunch together and amorous
intentions do not feature on the menu. There seems to be a silent arrangement
which is allowing them to relax, safe in the knowledge there will be no
pressure to perform, neither of them have expectations. It’s just lunch.

Elise is visibly relaxing and Dan is happy
to watch, commending himself on his judiciousness, she’s just what the doctor
ordered: a distraction and nothing more. He knows the next few days will be a
test of his skilfulness as a kidnapper and a lover. By this time tomorrow,
he’ll be able to have his cake and eat it.

By 3 o’clock, they are full to the brim
with sticky toffee pudding and lager. A lull in the conversation forces Dan to
turn to his back-up for inspiration. “You been keeping an eye on the trouble in
the Far East?”

Elise nods no.

“What a bunch of fucking morons, won’t be
happy ‘till they start a war, and then we’ll all get drawn into it.”

She tucks her hair behind her right ear.
“I don’t pay much attention to it. I’ve got enough to think about without
worrying about them.”

“Right, I know the feeling.”

The anchor man appears on screen:

“We’ve just had word that media magnate
Ayden Stone has announced his engagement to an English school teacher … over to
you Bret … yes, thank you Matt. One of the most eligible bachelors in Europe
has announced his engagement today to Elizabeth Parker, a twenty seven year old
school teacher from London, England. In a press release today he said, “Beth
and I are very happy. After a whirlwind romance, we’re planning to get married
as soon as possible and build a future together. I’m a very lucky man.”

Both Dan and Elise look up at the screen,
open-mouthed, transfixed. “Fuck!” They say in unison, turning to each other so
quickly their heads spin.

“Pardon?” Elise is the first to react.
She’s frowning and staring at Dan, refusing to release him from her startled
gaze.

“Sorry.”

“About what? Swearing or having something
to say about Ayden Stone?”

Dan’s flustered. He picks up his glass and
throws back the remaining dregs of golden liquid. “About swearing. It was
uncalled for.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about the
swearing. It’s why you did it that worries me. I need a drink.” She grabs her
purse from her bag and pushes back her chair. “Same again?”

“If you’re buying.”

With a cursory nod, she strides over to
the bar. Dan’s brain is working overtime. Has he let the cat out of the bag?
What can he tell her? Nothing. Why the hell did
she
swear?

When she returns to her seat, she’s
bursting to talk. “So, are you going to tell me why you were shocked?” Her
unflinching look tells him she’s like a dog with a bone. She will not let it
drop.

Dan takes the offensive position. “I think
you should be the one confessing Elise. It wasn’t a very ladylike thing to do,
calling out like that. You must have had good reason?” He drums his fingers on
the table, waiting for her reply.

“Firstly, I never said I was a lady and
secondly, I do have good reason.” She hesitates, finding it difficult to
explain. Dan gives her all the time she needs. “Ayden and I have history. We go
way back and, since then, well …”

Dan cannot conceal his astonishment. “You
know
him?” He cannot put the two of them together, it simply does not compute.

She’s offended. “Yes. Why? Is it so
surprising that someone like me should know someone like him?” She lifts up her
glass and takes a big gulp. “He’s just a guy you know, not a fucking God.”

“Oh, I know that, but …”

“But, you can’t imagine what he’d see in
me?”

Dan prepares to salvage what he can of her
ego. “No, it’s not that. I’m just wondering why he let you go.” Leaving the
compliment floating around in the shifting air, he takes a sip of his drink.
“He must be a fucking idiot.”

Elise is dumbstruck. She had an arsenal of
self-defending remarks all loaded up and ready to launch and is grateful for
not having to propel a single one. She places her hand on his arm. “Thank you.
That’s a nice thing to say.”

“It’s the truth,” he lies, thinking she
has been so preoccupied with her own outburst that she has forgotten his. He’s
wrong.

Still deep in thought, she sips slowly and
turns to him, leaving the glass in front of her face, “So, that explains my
little eruption. What’s your excuse?”

It’s shape up or ship out time for Dan. He
could lie quite easily, and spin a yarn about some university visit gone wrong
involving Stone. Or he could tell her a half truth. Who knows, she may be a
valuable ally?

“My shout out had nothing to do with your
ex, it had more to do with his fiancée. I know
her.”

Now it’s Elise’s turn to be shocked. Her lips
are parted and her eyes are large and disbelieving. “You know
her
?”

Dan gives her a reproving look which sears
her to her chair.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” She gives
his arm a squeeze. “What I meant to say was,
how
do you know her?” She
is still and attentive.

He refuses to feel boxed in. For the first
time in his life, he can actually speak her
name. “Elizabeth Parker went
to Cambridge about six years ago and we got together then.” It’s not a lie.
Merely saying her name out loud causes a stab of that which has no name to
circulate his groin.

Elise wants details. “You went out?”

“Yeah.”

“For how long?”

“A couple of months.”

“Nothing serious then?”

“Not for her.”

She eyes him suspiciously. “But it was for
you?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“Have you been in touch with her since?

“No. She moved away, I don’t know where.”

“I do.” Her face contorts into a grimace.
“Right into Ayden’s arms, that’s where.”

“Looks that way.”

“Yes it does.” She arches her body towards
him and leans in so close he can feel her fevered breath on his face. “And what
the fuck are we going to do about it?”

Dan’s face splits in two. His wicked grin
leaves her in no doubt as to his willingness to get involved. “Leave it with me
Elise, I’ll think of something.”

“Good.” She lifts up her glass, expecting
him to do the same. “I’ll drink to that.”

Lester
is a welcome sight, waiting outside
international arrivals. At least his driving will comply with some sort of
Highway Code, which is more than can be said for his Italian counterparts. “Mr.
Stone, Miss Parker. Welcome back. I hope you had an enjoyable trip?”

“Lester.”

As Ayden doesn’t do small talk, I speak
for both of us. “Yes we did thank you Lester, the hotel was lovely and the
weather stayed fine.”

I notice Lester is smiling politely but
shifting from left to right. He knows how Ayden can be. I stand my ground. It
costs nothing to be polite.

“How about you? What have you been up to?”

“What the hell. We’re losing daylight
here.” Ayden yells from inside the Rolls Royce.

I accept Lester’s apologetic smile and
climb inside. “Ayden, sometimes you can be so rude.” I turn away to look out of
the window. Even though he’s tutting and blowing out hot air, I won’t let it
go. “For someone whose business is communications, you’re a terrible
communicator.” All I’m getting back is a wide stare. “You’ll find people will
work harder and be more loyal if you treat them with respect.”

“Miss Parker, in business, ‘… it is much
better to be feared than loved,’” he says smartly.

“Oh please, tell me you’re not blaming
Machaivelli for your rudeness?”

He wraps his left arm around my shoulders
and buries his nose in my hair. It feels so intimate and I fold into him. “No,
it was just a quote that came to me. I’ll bear in mind what you said.”

The Rolls pulls out onto the busy lane,
and picks up speed.  In a moment of mental clarity I recall Jake’s cryptic
message,
The shits’s hitting the fan here ...
What does he expect me to
do about it? I can’t
make
Ayden leave me and go to Hong Kong. If I tell
him about the text, I’ll have to disclose my other L.A. arrangement and he’ll
feel betrayed. If I say I want to be alone, he’ll become suspicious and upset.
What to do?

I fidget around on the leather seat and
try to find a ‘painless’ position, knowing Ayden will notice my discomfort. He
misses nothing.

“What’s wrong?”

Here goes …

“Nothing, I think I need a good long soak
in a hot bath.” I offer a half smile.

“Are you sore?”

He’s genuinely concerned and I’m touched.
Not wanting to worry him too much I play it down. “A bit, but I’ll be ok. Don’t
worry.”

“We’ll go to your apartment, if you want,
if you’d feel more comfortable there. Or we can still go to Belgravia if you’re
up to it?” He’s tipping his head sympathetically, waiting for a reply.

I hate myself. “Maybe I should go home and
let you get on with some work.” I drop that suggestion out there, testing the
water.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say having
had your wicked way with me Miss Parker, you’re trying to get rid of me.”

Shit!

Now he’s becoming suspicious. I stretch up
and kiss his cheek. “Of course not. I just think being on the receiving end of
so much ... sex, has its disadvantages.”

“Oh I get it, you want me to kiss it
better?” He starts to position me in the middle of the enormous leather seat.
Now he’s kneeling between my legs. “Looks like I’ll be ruining another pair of
trousers.”

So much for my scheming.

He’s unbuttoning my jeans. I take hold of
his hands and slide them down my thighs. As tempted as I am and as needy as I
feel, I have to at least try to get him back on track, but this is proving
harder than I thought.

“That’s a kind offer but I’m afraid I
cannot accept it.”

An inscrutable look appears like a mist
over his face, either he’s worried that I’m rejecting him or he hates the idea
of being rebuked. Either way, it’s not good.

“This from the woman I spent the last
three days fucking.”

There’s a disturbing shift in tone. I hate
it. “Yes that would be me Ayden. I’m the one who’s sore and swollen and in
pain, so consider your words carefully. I don’t want you to see how I look at
the moment. It’s not a pretty sight, ok?”

If self-loathing had a face, it would look
like the one in front of me: he’s unhappy about his lack of sensitivity and,
frankly, so am I.

“I’m sorry.” His firm hands find their way
to my face and slide into my hair, releasing the clip. Still kneeling, he
ruffles my hair until it settles on my shoulders, before inching towards my
lips. The softness of his kisses and gentleness of his hands massaging my hair
remind me of how close we have become. He’s on his knees to me and I feel as if
this is the closest I will ever get to being worshiped.

“
We
need to take a time-out, don’t
we?”

I hear the ‘we’ loud and clear: how can a
single word make my chest hurt? “I think we do.”

I lean into him and our foreheads touch. I
know if I pull him to me, I’ll fold. He knows that too, I glance at his hands
shaped into fists, left and right of me on the seat. I attempt to lift him off
the floor but he won’t budge, his eyes are downcast and his mood is sombre.

“Ayden, look at me.” I tip up his chin and
hold his face in place with my hands, caressing his cheek bones with my thumbs.
“I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my life and it’s all down to you. You know
that, don’t you?”

He answers with a slanted smile and a nod.

“I can’t keep my hands off you and that’s
why I’m sore, it’s nothing to do with you being rough or too demanding. You’ve
done nothing wrong.” I take hold of his fists and try to lift him again. This
time he obliges and sits down next to me on my right. “Talk to me.” I wrap my
left arm around him and rest my head under the crook of his neck.

After a lengthy silence he clears his
throat to speak. “I’m going to fly out to Hong Kong this afternoon.”

I don’t believe my ears...

“I’ll be able to sleep on the flight and
get the meeting brought forward so I only have to be away two days instead of
three.” He plants a kiss on my head. “When I get back, you can come and stay
over at Stone Heath and, if you want, you can move in. I’ll arrange to have
your things collected and you can either hold onto your apartment or rent it
out, whatever you think’s best. How does that sound?” He stops to take a
breath.

“Like a plan.” I state, gazing up at him
adoringly. “My Mr. P. is back.”

“Baby, I was never away,” he assures me,
although I suspect he’s just being cute.

As we pull up outside my apartment, I
notice the wrought iron window dressing and the alarm box flashing on the wall,
next to the front door. He has kept his promise to keep me safe. Whilst we were
in Rome he’d arranged for an alarm company to install, what will probably be a
state of the art sensor system.

I edge over and settle myself across his
lap; my favourite place in all the world. “Will you be alright?” I ask
tentatively, tracing the outline of his jaw with my right hand.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He snaps a little too
abrasively.

“You know what I mean, after everything. You
have no reason to feel vulnerable or unsure, right?”

“Are you trying to tell me how to run my
business Miss Parker?” He rubs his nose against mine. “I only felt vulnerable
because I couldn’t come to terms with how I felt about you. I know now.”

I hold his gaze for as long as he will let
me. “And do you still need the lock of my hair?”

He considers the question and twists the
forefinger of his left hand round and round in my hair, creating an unruly
ringlet. “I’ll always need it Beth, you know that.”

I pull on his firm shoulders, trying to
break his reflective mood. “So now you have my hair, the visual memory of my
noisy orgasm and all my love, you have the best of me.” I forge a playful smile
when really, with every passing second, I’m dying inside with a single
gut-wrenching thought: I’ve lied to him.

“I do and I can’t ask for more than that.
All I need now is a kiss and I’ll be on my way.”

Why am I doing this?

I adopt a serious expression and hold him
with fierce blue stare, changing my position so I can straddle him. I don’t
care if it’s daytime, if the neighbours are watching or if Lester is pretending
to read his newspaper. This is what I want to do, this is what he needs. A
goodbye kiss he won’t forget.

Resisting the need to rub up against him,
I grip his outer thighs with my knees and squeeze tight, pinning him beneath
me. I might think I’m taking the lead, but he’s seducing me with his passivity:
darkening eyes and his dextrous hands, that’s all it takes.

I’m kissing his neck on the left side,
allowing my tongue to taste the warm flesh shifting beneath it, making my way
to his chin, taking my time, savouring his delectable face, smothering him with
love. His fragrant hair folds and separates around my fingers like strands of
liquorish and I feel my breath quickening as he erection presses into me. He
raises his hips off the seat in search of a point of contact.

When my lips find his, it’s like striking
gold: nothing compares to the way this man can kiss. He could make me come with
no more than soft words and a wet, ravishing kiss. He doesn’t use his tongue to
taste and explore, he uses it to make love.

“Ayden,” I whisper, fighting for breath.
“You’re doing it on purpose, you’re making me come with a kiss.” I begin to
moan. This was supposed to be my farewell and here he is fucking me in broad
day light with his tongue. I can’t help myself, I begin to rub up against him,
grinding against his erection.

Sensing my impending orgasm, Ayden presses
the button in the door for the privacy glass. Now we are soundproofed and
shielded on all four sides in our private world, I need not hold back. My hands
are fumbling, unbuttoning his jeans. I need to feel him inside me.

“No.” Ayden takes hold of my hands and
prevents me from unzipping him. I try to shake off his hands. “No Beth.”

“Yes Ayden, let go of my hands. I want
you.” I can hear myself shouting so acute is my craving for him.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” The look on
his tormented face cuts me to the quick, but I cannot help myself, he’s just
too damn hot.

“You won’t Ayden I’m so wet.” I kiss him
over and over. “Please, please.”

He releases my hands and holds his own
high in submission, allowing me to take out his pulsating cock. I gasp and
begin clinching involuntarily, wrapping my arms around his neck and leaning
backwards, urging him to come with me, to lay me out on the seat.

In a split second he has me beneath him
and he’s tearing at my jeans and my panties, dragging them to my knees and
feeling me with his right hand, testing for moisture, making sure I’m ready for
him.

“Don’t worry Ayden, I’m ready,” I pant, so
wanton I hardly recognise myself, I’ve never felt quite so reckless. What’s got
into me? Has the prospect us being parted for three days reignited my sexual
appetite? Whatever the reason, my pants are down, his cock is out. If ever I
needed to be fucked, it’s now.

I watch as he reaches into his pocket and
tears off the top of the condom packet with his teeth. I’m writhing, my hands
are gripping the edge of the seat and my heart is racing. I’m forgetting my
lie.

Looking me in the eye, he rolls the condom
down the length of his erect penis. “Beth, I don’t want to do this,” he mutters
in a voice coated in anguish.

His words still me. I realise, he’s doing
this for me, not for himself. In fact the thought of inflicting actual bodily
harm is causing him pain. I sit up, affronted.  “Then don’t.” I pull up my
underwear and my jeans.

He can’t believe his eyes. “What?” He
takes hold of himself with a motionless hand.

“I’m not going to force you to do
something you don’t want to do, for the sake of my own pleasure. We both have
to want this.”

He’s shaking his head from left to right,
screwing up his face and pursing his lips as if he’s experiencing actual
physical pain.

Dear God what have I done?

“Don’t do this Beth. I’m about to fly half
way round the world and you’re mind fucking me.” Impulsively, he takes hold of
my upper arms and drags me down onto the leather seat. “I’m not going to get on
that fucking plane feeling bad about not pleasing you, it’s the only thing I
want to do, so let’s just do it.”

Now it’s my turn to feel slighted. “How
dare you talk to me like that. You’re the one who just fucked me with your
tongue. I was about to give you a good bye kiss and leave.” I’m so enraged, I
could spit.

“We both know that’s not true. You take
great delight in unravelling me and here, in the back seat of my car is your
favourite playground. But that’s ok because you get off on it.”

With that, I slap him hard across the face
with my right hand. “That’s not true.” Tears are filling my eyes, my lower lip
is starting to quiver.

He takes hold of my offending hand and
pulls it to his lips, angling his face to kiss my palm before raising my arms
above my head, gripping my wrists in his powerful left hand. As hard as I try I
cannot break free.