TouchStone for giving (The Story of Us Trilogy) (47 page)

by his sides, take his handsome face in my hands and enquire, “How can I repay you for you kindness

Mr. Stone?”

Happy to play along he smiles wickedly. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of something Miss Parker.” He

tips his head to the right inquisitively, anticipating a sexual favour.

I unwrap him slowly like a birthday present, folding back the towel until it covers the toilet seat

like a throne. There he sits proudly; here I sit, ready to fall at his feet.

“You seem pleased to see me.”

“Seeing you, touching you, tasting you. Everything about you pleases me Miss Parker.”

“And you me Ayden.” Without shame or embarrassment I peel back my robe and begin rubbing

myself against hard flesh, arching my back, allowing my breasts to brush against flexing pectoral

muscles. That’s all it takes to set this sensual frenzy in motion.

His hair is still wet and delicious, tumbling through my fingers like waxy shoelaces. Powerful

fingers and thumbs are moving northwards from my knees, gripping, squeezing, reinforcing a silent

promise of sexual delight. His masterful strokes awaken my very sexuality, raising my consciousness

to a private place belonging to us alone. This is what it feels like to be desired.

“That’s it. Look at me.”

I lower my chin, synchronising our sighs and stare for a thousand miles into those pools of

sapphire. “Please don’t leave me again Ayden.”

With a single hand he grasps my neck. “I won’t Beth. My home is in your arms.”

I fist his hair and writhe into his hand, free from bashful thoughts or insecurity. Our separation was

spatial and nothing more. When I’m consumed by fire he pulls my mouth onto his, swallowing up my

orgasmic cries; I melt into his arms until the flames licking at my core become no more than a

throbbing ball of embers. But this is just the beginning …

“I want you,” he growls, snaking his tongue into my mouth and sucking on mine, coating it in

peppermint. “I belong to you baby. I want you to make love to me Beth,” he says softly, afraid anyone

might hear those helpless words as they leave his mouth.

I edge backward, hypnotised by his request and whisper softly, “I’ve not seen you like this before.”

There’s urgency in his movements, neediness like that of a child. I stroke his hair, knowing Ayden

Stone never asked for anything his whole life; childhood disappointment saw to that. And yet he sits

before me with glistening eyes, showing more devotion in the asking than could ever be expressed in

the taking.

The Stone veneer seems to be cracking under the strain. I only know of one way to restore his brave

and beautiful face; to show him he is loved …
more than life itself.

With artist’s fingers I explore his face; brows, cheekbones, lips; watching weary eyelids fall like

heavy clouds over an ocean. I erase the lines forming above his nose with my thumbs until only

smooth skin remains.

Keeping a slow, even pace I arch into him, peppering his neck with feather light kisses, fisting hair

in a playful tousle. All the time his hands are resting by his side in active submission. The feathers

catch fire and scorch his skin as I cradle him in an almost maternal embrace, sensing his craving for

intimacy.

He is gifting himself to me.

But, some gifts should be treasured, accepted with good grace and gratitude: such is the gift from

this fiancé of mine. He has taught me how to love by loving me so devotedly. I pray I too might be

able to convey my devotion with equal piety.

I reach for the condom on the counter top and tear at the wrapper ravenously, spitting out the tear

off strip and shaking the lifeless roll of latex, ready for use. Against every natural inclination he has

he nods, giving me permission to roll it down his impressive cock standing upright, gloriously gorged

with blood. I’ve only done this once before; it was a turn-on then and it’s a turn-on now.

I wriggle into position and raise myself, both hands on his shoulders, eyes locked like natural

elements: earth and sky existing in total harmony. I descend, taking him inside, cocooning his body

with mine. Once muffled pants, find their way to the heavens, increasing in volume as I feel the

fullness of a steely erection deep and snug.

“I have you exactly where I want you Mr. Stone,” I mutter between panting breaths.

His hands remain by his sides, fists clenching and unclenching to the up and down jockeying

rhythm of my quivering body. I ride him hard, gyrating, clenching, milking him until the trickle of pre

cum oozes into the latex sheath like warm milk. We race towards our climax; hearts beating out of our

chests, noises emanating from our mouths like a lovers’ duet, muted by fierce kisses and wet, swirling

tongues.

Ayden cannot hold back. His hands are in my hair, they’re gripping my face as we leave our earthly

existence for a higher plane.

He fights to speak, “No! Stop! Beth, stop!”

Breathless, I pull away still panting; flushed with a near orgasmic glow.

He picks me up and, in one fell swoop, scrapes the items off the counter into the sink and sits me on

the cold white ledge. I am illuminated by the strip light above my head.

Still inside me he fights to speak. “I want to look at you. I want to remember every inch of you;

your beautiful face, your nose, your lips. Oh, especially your lips.” As he is speaking, he is gently

rocking back and forth inside me and tracing the outline of my features with his fingers, and kissing

me passionately, endlessly.

I follow his lead and draw abstract shapes across his face; the face of an angst ridden angel.

“Promise me you will always love me Beth,” he implores.

Willingly, I’ll promise this and more. “I will Ayden.”

“Say it. I need to hear it.”

Sensing his desperation I oblige eagerly, “I will always love you Ayden Stone.”

“Again”

“I will always love you Ayden Stone.”

“Again.”

His movements quicken to the sound of my voice.

“I will always love you Ayden St ….”

“Again”

“I will always love you Ay-den.” So powerful is my admission, we feel our lovemaking transform

into a moment of pure ecstasy. My chanting is hypnotic, leading us over the edge and close to

oblivion.

But ... I sense something is wrong. He is losing himself in me, but there’s something in his

desperate need for affirmation and it doesn’t feel like desire.

It feels like goodbye.

Ayden is arching his back and giving me his all but, for some reason, he cannot release. This has

never happened before. The events of the week have taken their toil and I can’t allow him to suffer the

indignation of failure, not now. I pull him to me and coax him to climax. In a voice that is a whispered

confession, I say, “I will always love you Ayden Stone. I need you to come inside me baby.”

On command he lunges into me, lifting me off the counter for deeper penetration, as if he needs to

possess every inch of me; it’s almost too much for me to bear. All I can do is hold onto him as he

erupts inside me with no more than a strangled moan.

I feel his knees buckle and reach out to catch him but he regains his balance and steadies himself.

Rather than easing out of me he remains, seemingly unwilling to break the connection.

“I’d like to live in here,” he smiles, wiping the sweat from my brow. “It’s safe and warm and

belongs to me.” He grins in that boyish way that melts my heart.

“Well, it could make running your company a little difficult Ayden.” I beam.

“This is true.” With that he rubs his nose against mine and gently pulls away.

He is about to lift me down but I lean back. “You can leave me here, I’m quite happy where I am.” I

pull a towel off the rail and place it across my knee, anticipating what is about to follow.

“Do you have a ticket?” he asks.

“No. But I think I’ve paid in kind,” I reply with an innocent smile.

“And so you have. Then let the show begin.” Unselfconsciously he starts to shower, happy for me to

lust after him. The steaming droplets run down his body like silver beads on glass; I trace their

journey from his hair to his chest and all the way down to his feet and it’s like a pilgrimage. I could sit

all day and worship him. When he’s finished I clap and call out, “Encore.” He takes a bow.

“You’re next,” he commands.

Obediently, I slither off the counter, throwing the towel at him before stepping into the shower.

He dries off and watches me in the mirror; I’m happy for him to see me naked and covered in foam.

When I step out he hands me a robe and wraps me up in it like an infant. “You are perfect in every

way Miss Parker,” he confesses, towelling my hair but, before I can say thank you, he leaves the

bathroom.

On entering our bedroom he’s nowhere to be seen. On the bed is a single rose and sheet of paper.

Breakfast and Celine are on their way. I have to love and leave you …

I’ve a wedding to prepare for!

These words from my lips to your heart …

I love you Beth.

Forever yours

A X

I waft the paper across my face then place it by the bed. It’s almost 8 a.m. In four hours I’ll be

leaving for the Wedding Chapel and returning with a new name. I’m shaking my head from left to

right to clear the fog but it’s not fog, it’s steam from the shower that’s filled the room. I have no doubt

it will quickly disperse along with any fears I might have that this isn’t the right thing to do.

It is. I know exactly what I’m doing. Today, I’m marrying the man of my dreams.

Three hulking strides is all it takes for Dan to enter Elm Gardens and pass the ground floor

apartment. The same numbers remain but a shiny new lock now stands between him and the object of

his desire. One floor up, the bolt behind 53b rattles as he passes. He waits, anticipating a newsflash

from the neighbourhood peeping Tom.

“Hello Pat. Any news on the break-in?” He points the conversation in the right direction.

“Hello Daniel. No, but the police are taking it very seriously. Chief Inspector Bowker asked me to

give you this.” She hands him a small card with the Inspector’s name and two telephone numbers on

it. “I told him you work shifts and were out when it happened, but he said for you to call him.”

Dan takes the card, giving it a cursory glance before sliding it into his shirt pocket. “Don’t think I’ll

be able to help but I’ll give him a call. Thanks Pat.” He forces a smile. “How
is
the lady downstairs,

by the way?”

“I saw her yesterday and she looked much better. I expect that handsome gentleman friend of hers

will be taking care of her.”

You can bet your arse he will!

“She’ll be resting up after her shock,” he says, like he gives a damn.

“I’m sure you’re right. Bye for now Daniel.”

“Bye Pat.” He hears her door click behind him and a lock slide into place a couple of seconds

before his own. The vacuous space that has now become his second home feels as if it’s sucking the

life out of him. In silent contemplation he draws his hand across his chin, feeling two days growth and

slaps the Inspector’s card down on the counter top like he’s playing an ace. Even before the game gets

underway he’s feeling triumphant. After all, he’s holding the get out of jail card that comes from

having a nosy neighbour, a theatre programme, witnesses galore and absolutely no connection with the

victim.

One word leaves his lips: “Genius.” Followed by a vile sneer. Drawing on old habits, he prepares to

give the Inspector the old one two. He won’t be bothering him again after that. The Inspector is quick

to answer. “Hello Inspector Bowker. This is Dan, Dan Rizler from Elm Gardens. Mrs. Knowles has

given me your card. She said you wanted me to give you a call.”

“Ah, Yes, Mr. Rizler. Thanks for getting back to me. I’m sure you can guess what it’s about?”

“I assume it’s about the break-in down stairs?”

“Yes it is Mr. Rizler. It’s just a formality but I wonder if you could tell me where you were on

Sunday evening? ”

“Sure. I got back early evening and drove into the city to watch a show. I planned on having a drink

so stayed over at a B & B in Hackney. I’ve got the name of it here somewhere…”

“I don’t think that’s necessary Mr. Rizler. But if you could keep those details handy, in case we

need to follow anything up.”

“Like what?” Dan asks, seeming overly concerned.

“Like I said Mr. Rizler, just a formality. We have to explore every avenue.”

“I see. That’s a bit much for a break-in, isn’t it? Usually you guys just give an incident number and

say claim for the stolen goods.”

“Well … I can’t discuss the case with you Mr. Rizler, obviously. Other than to say it was

particularly nasty and we suspect the perpetrator had been in the apartment prior to the break-in.”

“Oh. I see …”

“So, you can imagine, we’re having to determine who was in the vicinity of the apartment in the