The Gift (23 page)

In the short time she’d known him, it’d become obvious that Jay had suffered some kind of injury to his vocal cords in his accident. His voice was husky and gravelly, a real bedroom voice if ever there was one. But tonight he sounded tired, ragged around the edges.

Despite everything, she felt a strange melt of sympathy. She barely knew him, but she wanted to reach out across the distance between them and soothe his stress.

‘Who’ve you been arguing with?’

It was way beyond their unspoken no-go area, but surprisingly he answered quickly and unguardedly.

‘My father, the old bastard. I thought we’d come to an accommodation recently, found a way to work together, but now I’m wondering whether I was wrong.’

‘I’m sorry about that. I’ve always got on well with my parents. It must be tough.’

‘Don’t worry, love. We’ll muddle through somehow. I’d rather talk about you.’

She could hear the smile in his voice, that devilish grin that made his grey eyes shine like metal. When was he going to ask about the parcels, she wondered.

‘So, this busy day. Anything exciting to report? Any strange men accosting you in the café and hustling you into the cloakroom for a desperate fuck?’

She smiled her own devilish grin, wishing she had a glass of wine again to sip while she played silly buggers with him a bit longer. ‘No, not today, alas. But there were a couple of delivery men who gave me the eye. You wouldn’t believe how hunky the UPS guys are nowadays.’

‘UPS, eh? Did you get anything nice?’

‘Nice? Not really. Some anonymous pervert sent me a bunch of sleazy lingerie and a whole load of sex toys. There really are some sick and depraved weirdos out there nowadays.’

‘Sleazy lingerie?’ Mock aggrieved.

‘Well, actually it’s quite nice. I think I’m going to keep it. Especially the red and black number. Although that is sort of semi-sleazy. Great if you like the classic split-crotch and peephole look.’

A low gritty chuckle emanated from the speaker.

‘Oh, you mean like the set you had, then suddenly didn’t have?’

Giving herself a moment to think, Sandy set the phone in its cradle and pressed the button for hands free.

‘Yep, that’s the one.’

‘Really? Well, maybe your anonymous perverted friend realised that you really did want a red and black sleazoid set after all and he’s sent you an early Christmas present, pandering to your every whim?’ There was a slight click, and Sandy realised that Jay must have switched to hands-free too. He’d read her mind, or maybe he’d been planning to use his hands for other things all along? ‘So, what about the other parcel? The sex toys? Have you tried any of them yet?’

Sandy stared around, looking at the items nestling in their wrappings. She’d hardly dared handle most of the things, shaken up by the weird unstable breathless feelings in her stomach at the thought of actually using them.

‘No! Of course not. And who says I’m going to?’

‘Tut tut, bottling out, are we?’ Jay’s voice was arch and amused. It made her bristle, but also wish he was there so she could jump all over his bones. That sort of macho cleverness should in theory make her want to tell him to get lost, but instead it made her go all strange and want him in that very alarming and very submissive way she didn’t quite understand.

‘I thought you were the girl who wanted to experiment,’ he reminded her, and she half wanted to kill him, and half surrender to him in those deepest darkest ways.

‘I do.’

‘So experiment then. Pick something and try it.’

‘All right then, I will.’

She rummaged about and pulled out the thoughtfully shaped vibrator in which she’d thoughtfully fitted a set of batteries.

‘You do realise this amounts to phone sex, don’t you?’ The device was quite weighty in her palm but it fitted nicely. Ergonomically designed, oh yeah. Not like the gruesome pink and black and red plastic jobbies that had been on sale at Kat’s party. This was class, and the softest smoothest milky pearly-blue.

‘Oh no, not phone sex. Perish the thought,’ Jay replied, laughing. ‘That had never occurred to me.’

Ignoring him, Sandy turned on the vibrator. Its purr was low, discreet, nearly silent at its lowest setting. Could he hear it? She didn’t ask, but she imagined him in his own bed somewhere, stretched out against a mountain of luxurious pillows, settling down to touch himself, if he wasn’t already. Weirdly, she also saw him having difficulty getting comfy, as if the tiredness she sensed in him was due to pain as well as work and parental aggro.

Why do I keep getting these nurturing feelings for him? He can take care of himself, and it’s not as if we’re a big long-term deal.

Banishing troubling thoughts, Sandy wriggled against her own far less sumptuous Tesco-bought pillows. She spread her legs, tweaked up her mini nightshirt, and rested the humming vibe against her thigh.

Dare she do it?

There was a big difference between occasionally indulging in a little zizz with a vibrator in the privacy of the bathroom or under the covers of your strictly solo bed, and pleasuring yourself with one for an eagerly listening and very horny male audience.

‘Well, you’ve turned it on, Princess. That’s a good start. But it’s doing you no good just sitting there buzzing. You’ve got to do something with it. Press it against your pussy. That’s how they work.’

‘I know how vibrators work, thank you very much.’ Cautiously, she eased her thighs further apart, pointing her toes a little in the way that seemed to work for her. On a deep breath, she let the pearly-blue shape rest against her cleft, through the buffer of her pubic thatch.

Oh, it was so smooth. Deceptively gentle. Insidious. It barely seemed to be doing anything, and yet the frequency of the buzz set up a resonance through her sex that made her gasp.

And she hadn’t even touched it to naked skin yet.

‘Good?’

How the fuck did he know? Good God, had he tried the thing? But no, the box had been packed by the sex-toy company. He’d just ordered from a catalogue or something. Unless he had one of his own, or he’d borrowed a girlfriend’s.

‘That good, eh? Left you speechless.’

‘It’s all right.’ But it was more than all right, and the waver in her voice only confirmed that to him. The subtle silky vibrations seemed to flurry through her entire body. She could feel them in her brain, making her ears tingle. And in her toes, making them point more than ever. Greedy for sensation, she pressed the device harder against herself then, biting her lip to keep from crying out, she dove her fingers down into her bush and parted a way to give the vibe access.

When it touched her clit she cried, ‘Oh God!’ She couldn’t help herself.

‘That’s it, Princess. You know you want it. Do yourself for me.’

‘Well, aren’t you just a prince of sophistication?’ Sandy gasped through gritted teeth, trying to control her movements, and her own voice, as Jay laughed.

Her hips seemed to want to grind of their own accord, circling and rocking against the mattress. Every part of her pussy and bottom was sensitised, nerves firing, muscles gathering ready to release again in the pulsations of orgasm. She closed her eyes, unable to look at herself, but that only created a shadow vision of Jay, sitting up in his own bed but watching her. Had he got his cock in his hand? Surely he had? How could he not have?

‘You. What about you? Are you wanking?’ she demanded, pumping her hips, her hand, and the pretty vibrator, riding the action.

‘Now who’s the sophisticated one?’

But his voice gave him away too. A hint of a gasp. Not quite panting, but not too far off. He was breathing heavily, fighting for control. Just as she was.

The muscles in Sandy’s thighs were rigid. Her clit tingled. So close, so very, very close. In a supreme effort of will, she backed the vibrator off a little, letting it lie to one side, still buzzing away, but not quite at the heart of the matter. It was a blessed respite, but her pleasure centres still screamed back at her, ‘now, now, now!’

‘Tell me what you’re doing, Jay. I want to imagine it. Are you in bed? Are you naked?’ She could see his body, magnificent yet tattooed with the marks of pain and suffering. Somehow his scars didn’t seem to matter, because they made him what he was, a tempered man, not a pretty boy.

There was a long pause. A breathing space. Sandy frowned, wondering if it was those scars that were making him reticent. The pretty boy would have been happy to describe his body, and embellish its attractions no doubt. But maybe the scarred man didn’t want to remind her of his flaws?

‘Yes, I’m in bed,’ he admitted at length, ‘and I wish you were here, so you could be doing what I’m doing now.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Rubbing my cock, Princess, rubbing my cock. And alas, my big old mitt isn’t nearly as tantalising and delightful as your little hand.’ He made a little grunting sound, quite endearing really. ‘But it’s doing the job, I’ve got to admit, and not too badly.’

Oh, that beautiful cock! Thankfully, it was one of the few parts of him that was totally unscarred and she could vouch for its effectiveness and then some.

‘Do you wear pyjamas?’

‘No, I’ve got my robe on. But open, so I can touch myself.’

‘Robe colour?’

‘Grey.’

‘Like your eyes. And the Aston?’

‘Sort of.’

‘Bed sheets?’

‘White cotton. Nothing exotic. No chintz.’

Sandy laughed. He’d still looked hard as nails when swathed in the Waverley’s fussily patterned bedding.

‘Are you close?’

Jay laughed. ‘Yes. Are you? I’m not hearing much action from your end of the line any more.’

‘I’m trying to make it last.’ She edged the little vibrator nearer to her clit, then edged it back again when the urge to wriggle and buck and grab for pleasure like a kid gorging on sweeties became overwhelming.

‘But why?’ Jay’s voice was staccato as if he too were fighting the same greed. ‘You girls are so lucky. You can go again straight away.’

‘I’m not sure I always want to. Sometimes what I want is the one great big one that sweeps me away, totally satisfying.’

She could almost see him pausing mid-stroke, his close-cropped head cocked on one side. Despite the pleasure, she was thinking, thinking too.

One great big one, that sweeps me away, totally satisfying.

Sandy wasn’t really sure she was still talking about an orgasm.

One great big one, that sweeps me away, totally satisfying.

Yes, that was what he wanted. What he’d always wanted.

And Sandy was still it. She’d always been it. Always would be.

My beautiful Princess. I wasn’t wrong. You
are
the one.

But it was stupid, crazy, irrational and so incredibly messed up by circumstances that it almost seemed like some kind of punishment for his profligate ways and his intransigence in his relationship with his father.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, the woman he’d always dreamed was perfect for him,
was
perfect for him. But unfortunately she’d soon have more than ample reason to despise him. For who he was, and for him not telling her who he was. Either as her long-lost rescuer or Jason Bentley Forbes.

He opened his mouth, to spill forth all the truths and take his chances, but a sudden sweet little half-gasp of suppressed pleasure from the speakerphone stilled his tongue. And his cock – which hadn’t drooped, but which had lost some of its aching urgency while he’d turned thoughts and revelations over in his mind – leaped and stiffened harder in his fingers.

He closed his eyes, imagining her beautiful pink lips parted on that gasp.

She was miles and miles away, and yet she was with him, writhing, responding to his touch, or his mouth, or the thrust of his cock. He wanted to do everything with her and to her, and to freely offer her the same gifts. Submission had never been one of his kinks, but with Sandy he could imagine the balance tipping sometimes. Tipping and provoking intense thrills.

‘Jay, are you still there? Are you OK?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine, love. Just imagining you having that great big orgasm that sweeps you away. Hell, I’d like to be there to give you your next one.’

She didn’t answer. But he could sense her breathing. Almost hear her panting. A vision of her moving uneasily against her pillows, her bright mane of hair like a tousled cape of ruddy silk against the white cotton fabric. In his dream she was naked, her skin like honey, moist with sweat, and between her legs, moister still.

The high-tech vibrator was pressed against her pussy.

‘Are you still using your toy?’

God, he wanted to be there, to be the one using it on her. Driving her to extremes of pleasure, making her come and come and come until she couldn’t see straight, and just clung to him shaking and compliant. For once. She wasn’t the delicate flower of his skewed dreams based on a few moments’ contact. She was fit and feisty and wild and full of will and self-determination. Which made her moments of surrender all the more precious, like rare cosmic jewels.

When she was half out of her mind, half fainting with more orgasms in an hour than most women had in a week, he wanted to mount her, ride her, open her heart and soul to him utterly as he compelled her to rise again from the
depths of utter submission to that one last great climax that would bond them together.

Oh fuck, oh fuck … Just two days of knowing the real Princess and I’ve fallen in love with her.

As his cock spurted, he knew the impossible was true.

Sandy heard the tell-tale groans, and for a moment it distracted her from her own rise to climax, not quite sure what the emotions she was feeling were. This didn’t seem like the pattern she’d expected at all. Shouldn’t the masterful man be the one to tease her and tease her and tease her, withholding his own culmination until he’d coaxed come after come out of her?

Selfish, she thought, then immediately, not selfish. It was as if he’d given her a gift. His vulnerability and his surrender to his senses, and to her.

‘Oh God, Sandy,’ he murmured after a few moments. His low raspy voice was barely audible across the miles, but the weight of emotion in it rang clear. ‘Sorry, love, I couldn’t wait. I was thinking about you. Thinking about touching you and making you come and being in you, and it all got a bit too much for me and I climaxed.’ She heard the rustle of bedclothes and the sound of him adjusting his position, and at the same time a sharp intake of breath. Was he hurting? ‘I wanted to tease you and tease you and tease you, you know? Play it out a bit.’