The Accidental Mistress (26 page)

John moved closer, his inquisitive expression morphing into a slight frown.

‘It’s only because I worry about you, Elizabeth,’ said her mother. ‘I don’t mean to pry, really, but I just want you to be happy.’

‘I am happy, Mum. And I’m happy with John.’

Her mother said nothing, but Lizzie could feel the doubt. She looked up to find that John, moving like lightning, was standing right over her. Miming, ‘Let me …’ he put out his hand for her phone.

Lizzie shook her head, but he waggled his fingers. ‘It’ll be OK,’ he whispered, and suddenly she was handing the mobile over.

‘Hello, Mrs Aitchison, my name is John Smith, and I’m Elizabeth’s friend. Nice to speak to you.’

How the hell did he know that her parents always called her ‘Elizabeth’? Surely he didn’t have super hearing, and had heard her mother’s voice? Cringing inside, but also intensely
curious to see how John would handle this, she strained her own hearing to try and catch both sides of the conversation.

‘Yes, Elizabeth and I have been seeing each other for a while now. I think she’s an amazing woman, and I’m very fond of her. You should be very proud of your daughter. She’s very bright and talented.’

In spite of the hideously awkward situation, Lizzie giggled, stifling it with her hand. John winked at her as he listened to her mother. Lizzie couldn’t bear to contemplate what he was being asked. Whatever it was, it sounded as if it could well be a form of the third degree.

‘Yes, indeed, Mrs Aitchison. I have quite a number of holdings. Property, some light industry, hotels, communications, leisure facilities, shopping centres …’ There was a pause, more interrogation. ‘Oh no … they’re my own holdings. Yes, I own them … Yes, all of them … Yes, several times over …’ His brow crumpled, and he snagged his lower lip. Damn her mother, what was she quizzing him about now?

‘I’m forty-six … Yes, it is quite a bit older than Elizabeth, but she’s very mature for her age. She’s one of the most grounded and sensible women I’ve ever met.’

Lizzie spluttered, profoundly grateful that she’d not chosen that moment to be drinking coffee. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ She reached out for the phone, getting a slight purchase on it, only for John to whisk it out of her reach again. Leaping to her feet, she almost danced with frustration, desperate to stop her mother bombarding John with even more personal questions, and getting more and more alarmed by his answers.

‘That would be wonderful … I’d love to … I look forward to meeting you and your husband. I’ll see you then. Here’s Elizabeth again … It’s been lovely to speak to you.’

Glaring at him ferociously, Lizzie grabbed the phone back.

‘What on earth do you think you’re doing, Mother, cross-questioning John like that? What he earns and how old he is are none of your business! And what the hell does that mean, “Look forward to meeting you”?’

Still scowling, she watched John calmly buttoning his shirt, a serene expression on his face, as if nothing untoward had occurred.

‘I just wanted to be sure he was suitable for you, Elizabeth, that’s all. And he sounds very nice, very urbane …’ There was a pause, and Lizzie braced herself for what was coming next. ‘But isn’t he a bit old for you? I mean … you’re only twenty-four. And he’s … he’s …’

‘Nearly twice my age? Yes, he is, Mum, but it doesn’t make any difference. I don’t even notice. He’s like a young man to me. He’s … um … very fit and all that.’

Now it was John’s turn to supress laughter. She could see him biting his lip again as he knotted his navy blue tie, and then slipped into his waistcoat.

‘I’m sure he is,’ replied her mother primly, ‘but I’m a bit uneasy, you know … I … Are you sleeping with him, Elizabeth? A man so much older than yourself?’

‘Of course I’m fucking well sleeping with him, Mother!’ Across the room, John burst out laughing, then clapped his hand across his mouth in an elaborate pantomime. ‘And don’t be so shocked and uptight … after all, when you were my age, you’d given birth to
me
, so you must have had sex with Dad before you were twenty-four. Give me strength!’

‘Don’t be coarse, Elizabeth. It’s just that I worry about you. You know it’s only because I love you, sweetheart, and want the best for you.’

Lizzie sighed, cross with herself for getting cross. She imagined if the positions were reversed, she’d be just the same. ‘I know, Mum, but don’t worry. I’m well, and I’m happy in the work I’m doing, and I’m very happy with my rich, handsome, mature boyfriend. Life couldn’t be better!’

‘Is he very handsome, then?’ Mum was lightening up. Lizzie relaxed a bit.

‘He’s drop-dead gorgeous, Mum. Believe me … he’s like a film star.’

Across the room, the movie star grin twinkled as John combed his hair.

‘Ooh, I’ll look forward to meeting him, then.’

‘Ah, yes, I gather you’ve invited him to visit … Dad’s birthday, I guess?’

Her father’s birthday was coming up, and her mother liked to plan ahead, and ensure that the family always gathered if they could.

‘Yes, nothing fancy, but I just thought it would be nice if Mr Smith could come along with you.’

‘His name’s John, Mum.’

They chatted for a few minutes more, about her father, and her sisters, and about Brent and Shelley, but eventually, Lizzie sensed her mother was ready to ring off, her mission accomplished.

‘Right ho, Mum, I’ll see you soon … but I’ll be in touch beforehand about the arrangements. And in the meantime, you can tell everybody you know that your Elizabeth’s pulled a real-life multi-millionaire and she’s bringing him home with her so you can show him off to everybody!’

‘You’re a very wicked girl, Elizabeth Aitchison,’ said John, coming to her as she stuffed her phone into her bag after her mother had rung off. ‘Using such disgusting language to
your mother. I ought to smack your bottom for that.’

Filled with stress adrenaline from the last ten minutes of mother/daughter shadow-boxing, Lizzie bristled. Her chin came up, and she held his gaze, unflinching. ‘Why don’t you then, Mr “I own half the county” Businessman? Show
your
real side, and not the sleek, smooth-talking, mother-pleasing performance you just put on. Mum would’ve had a fit if I’d told her what a raving pervert you are.’

‘Ah, but you like it,’ he said, his voice as silky as when he’d been speaking to her mother, ‘and you’re just as much a pervert as I am, Miss Elizabeth, aren’t you?’ His eyes flashed like a hot summer sky, and between one breath and the next, all the desire she’d felt earlier, all the lust she’d believed assuaged, was back and rampaging through her body.

‘Yes, I am … so sue me.’

‘I’d rather spank you.’

‘Do that, then.’

He took her by the upper arms, fingers fierce against her flesh, holding her tight. His blue gaze bored into her, mastering her with its brilliance, dominating her without need for words or rituals. Her fighting spirit melted and mutated; she was still strong, but she channelled it within her, creating endurance.

Slowly, slowly, she lowered her gaze, giving her true assent. His lips settled on her brow, nuzzling her thick dark fringe. She felt the shape of his smile.

‘Kneel in the armchair, smart-mouthed girl,’ he whispered, making the hair flutter. ‘Show me that beautiful arse of yours again … you know I can’t resist it.’

She nodded, and he released her. Shaking, she moved to the big chintz-upholstered armchair, reconnoitring it. It was firm and well-padded beneath her knees as she assumed her
position, putting her arms forward to support herself, and heeling off her shoes.

How do I get myself into this every time? Why do I love it so?

Submissive, yet not cowed in the slightest, she relaxed, waiting for him. Moments ticked by, and she imagined him surveying her like a god, unhurried.

‘Raise your skirt, Elizabeth. Show yourself to me.’

Reaching back, she shuffled up her skirt. She had her knickers on now, prim, white, sensible knickers, which she’d been planning to wear all day. After this, she might have to treat herself to a pair of Sloggis or something from the hotel’s little boutique. It stocked a variety of personal items that guests might have forgotten to pack, and it was a good job it did, because John was getting her all hot and bothered again, teasing her with his scrutiny and the leisurely way he studied her. Surely time was flying by now, and soon he’d have to leave, but he was behaving as if they both had all the day to themselves.

When he touched her, she jerked in the chair. Not from shock, but from the weight of yearning.

‘Easy … easy …’ His fingertips travelled slowly over the cotton of her knickers, and strangely the contact was more intimate than if she’d been bare. ‘Just a couple of slaps, my sweet darling. A glow to take with you so you’ll think of me today.’

Lizzie almost laughed. As if there was any chance she
wouldn’t
think of him! He was the centre of her thoughts at all times, no matter how much she might assert her independence and convince herself she was still her own woman and not ruled or controlled by him.

‘And every time I touch something today, I’ll remember the touch of you,’ he went on, his fingertips spreading until his palm pressed against her bottom cheeks, ‘firm … resilient
… and yet sometimes yielding. Like you, Elizabeth … my beautiful Lizzie.’

Her skin trembled finely beneath his examination. She wanted to move and wriggle, but she tried to keep still. It was so hard and even more so when he hooked the waistband of her knickers and eased it down to the top of her thighs, exposing the rounds of her bottom.

‘I wish we had more time.’ He squeezed her flesh, testing it. ‘But people will be waiting for me. In fact, they probably already
are
waiting.’ Leaning close, he whispered in her ear, ‘I’ll cancel it all if you want me to.’

Did she? Could she make him do that, in a show of
her
power? It would prove her importance to him, that
she
was the ‘first lady’ in his life now, not these others from his past; his wife, the mysterious Rose.

She gasped, as he stroked her cleft, and the words rose almost to her lips,
Yes, cancel it all, do it for me!

And yet she couldn’t. She couldn’t be that petulant, demanding mistress, playing havoc with her lover’s business and schedules. She wasn’t fickle and she wasn’t difficult. She was Lizzie, who’d once been Bettie, but who lived in the real world, where it was a crappy thing to mess up dozens of people’s days, just to have some fun and make a point.

‘No, don’t do that,’ she said quietly, trying to stop her voice from quavering because he was almost touching her sex. ‘We’ll have plenty of time when you get back. No need to bollocks up everybody’s day just for me.’ She squirmed as the tip of his finger slid between her labia. ‘Not that I don’t appreciate the thought.’

‘I adore you,’ said John, fire in his voice. He meant it, she could tell, and he was awed by her choice. ‘I adore you … and I’m going to spank you …
because
I adore you.’

Before she could react, before she could catch another breath, he landed a crisp, open-handed slap across the cheek he’d so recently fondled. And before she could react to that, he landed another, square on the other cheek.

White fire flamed, in her flesh and in her mind. She rocked her hips, emitting a yelp as the first shock dissipated and the spanks came to life.

‘Yes!’ He gave her two more, and two more, his hand, that could be so gentle and so meticulous, impacting like a length of tropical hardwood against her arse.

Heat surged through her, filling her body, settling in the pit of her belly but also travelling, spreading out. It was in the tips of her toes, her earlobes, every strand of her hair. And where it burned, she felt pure need, desire reborn.

‘Oh please … please touch me,’ she cried, shaking her hips, stirring up the pain to make alchemical pleasure.

In an instant, he caught her to him, hauling her up. She still knelt in the chair, but he was right behind her, cradling her body against his, pressing the sore lobes of her bottom against his strong thighs and the hardness of his loins.

But he didn’t seem interested in his own body. As if unaware of his own condition, he slid his hand between her thighs, fingertips going straight for her clitoris, as he hugged her tight with his other arm, drawing her closer.

‘Lizzie … oh, my Lizzie,’ he purred into her hair, his lips seeking the side of her neck, and finding it in a fierce, desperate pressure.

As he kissed her, and praised her name, he made her come.

John’s fingertip shook against the surface of the tablet, making the figures he was studying fly and skip about. When he’d told Lizzie that whenever he touched something today, he’d think of touching her, it had been a figure of speech, lovers’ mad talk, and they’d both known it was delicious nonsense of the moment.

But now, he feared it was true. He
was
thinking about touching her all the time.

As the motorway heading south slid grimly along beyond the tinted windows of the limousine, John stared at his fingers. He’d probably washed his hands any number of times since he’d caressed her, but he still imagined her intimate fragrance there. It was a rare gift, vouchsafed only to him. And he could still feel her, as if the echo of her firm, beautiful bottom and her delicate, silky sex were forever imprinted in the surface of his skin.

Oh, for God’s sake, man, you’re losing it! Your head’s full of the most bizarre ideas these days.

It was true, though. Notions kept popping into his mind, and he kept entertaining ideas that he’d long ago
locked away. The fact that he couldn’t keep them in line now was disturbing. His ability to compartmentalise was eroding.

He had to talk to someone. To bounce ideas. And yet the only person who sprang to mind was Lizzie herself. She was the one he wanted as the mirror for his life, just as he wanted to be the mirror for hers.

It was hopeless. Fucking hopeless. He was happier than he’d ever been in his life, but equally, more confused than he’d ever been. Accustomed to total confidence, not being sure of himself, one hundred per cent, shook him hard.