Delecto - Games of Mastery (part 1) (7 page)

“
You
think I’ll open myself to you? Interesting...but in my opinion that
kind of intimacy involves trust.”

“
I think
we’ve established some level of trust, haven’t we?”

“
Purely
professionally,
Mr. Shaw
.” I
looked him directly in the eye and slurped the rest of my
much-needed drink quickly...draining every last drop noisily with
my straw. He eyed me with a quiet curiosity. This may be a new
concept for him, the fact I wasn’t whipping my panties off already,
panting in the chair and begging him for it. And now I was about to
make myself very, very clear. “Before we finish the will, why don’t
we have a quick tour through your rose garden? That is a subject
I’m very interested in hearing about. The beauty of nature. I
appreciate
that
kind of
honesty, that's the only honesty I want to hear from
you.”

My heart
pounded as I stood and waited for him to accompany me. And despite
my put-downs and the completely thunderous look that was evident on
his face, being the gracious host he was, he did.

Well how about
that for a turn around, Mr Shaw?

I’d won the
seduction battle.

And found a
short distraction, a very good one.

* *

There was a
definite chill in the air as he showed me his roses.

I managed to
keep his mind and mouth busy telling me about his plans to develop
his own perfect rose. It was actually very interesting and I was
absorbed in his knowledge and the stunning array of his cultivars
and works in progress—the higher scent qualities of the
varieties—the depth variation of the petals—the longevity of the
blooms.

I wondered if,
in the background of his mind, he was regretting asking me to dine
with him. But I was looking forward to it more than ever. I was
used to awkward situations. People throwing acid at each other in
court. That was my arena.

* *

We finished and
signed the will and testament at 5:30 pm. and I packed away the
documents in my case.

As dinner
wouldn’t be served until six, this meant we had a half hour of
chilled, polite conversation ahead. I broke the ice and kicked off
the game early with a provocative question.

“
This is
a very big house to live in alone. Do you like your own
company?”

“
I like
to be able to please myself however and whenever I like, but I’d
also enjoy having someone to please myself with, now and then. It’s
a balancing act, a double-edged sword, if you like.”

“
Maybe
you should have your
friends
to stay more often,” I say with a touch of sarcasm. There
were friends and
friends
...
He knew what I meant. “I never have my own space, so I wouldn’t
know how I’d feel living somewhere as large and empty as this. I
live with my father and younger sister.”

“
Aren’t
you tempted to move out, and find your own space?”

“
My home
is my home. However much I may wish for some privacy and solitude.
It’s unlikely to happen in the near future.”

“
That’s
your decision, I guess.”

“
Yes and
no. Decisions aren’t always of our choosing. Mine was made for
me.”

“
I’m
intrigued, why is that?”

“
It’s not
something I want to discuss.” I wished I’d never started this
conversation, or maybe I shouldn’t have been honest in my replies.
I’d pushed myself into a corner full of hurt. He must be able to
see the pain etched in my eyes because it felt like my head was
suddenly full of it. It was brimming over, emerging from every pore
like lava spewing from a volcano. It didn’t take much to bring it
to the surface, but it was so hard to stop the flow.

“
I guess
it’s a sore point?”

Anger welled up
within me.. Not at him, but at the whole situation I lived
with.

Sore
point?

I was
imprisoned with guilt and misery. My heart was laden down with more
pain than I could bear. And I wasn’t about to bare my soul to this
man. He wasn't interested in learning of my sorrows, he had but one
thing on his mind. Getting around my objections, physically.

He had a
very well-timed call and excused himself, to speak privately on his
cell, or so he said. He disappeared for twenty minutes. He could
well be having a respite from me. A rest in his master bedroom
suite. A rethink and a regroup of tactics, before he launched his
next wave of assault. Or maybe he was trying to work out how to
back out of our dinner. Perhaps he now saw me as a woman with
baggage? No longer so appealing to him. He hadn’t denied his
friends
either.

Should I simply
leave? No, I couldn't be that rude.

Bertrand would
be making our meal by now. I'd stay and see what happened. .

It was rather
warm so I made myself comfortable, taking off my jacket and shoes
and curling up in the large executive chair. I checked my cell and
feeling a little bored after that, I sprayed some perfume, applied
a little lip-gloss and rearranged my hair for something to do. Then
I daydreamed, closing my eyes, recharging my mental batteries and
prepared myself for whatever was to come.

I was in a
state of surprise. And my current state of mind had nothing to do
with my recent business call. Nor was it a result of my newly
drafted will. Although the person who drafted it was very much the
reason.

I'd never
met a more indignant,
prickly and argumentative woman. She
had real thorns. She'd make an excellent rose. I may well name my
thorniest creation Amanda Preston.

Despite that, I
was captivated. The way she held her head high and so damn proud on
that long and graceful neck of hers. And the way she glared at me,
suspiciously, shooting me down over almost everything I said. She
was breathtaking. And so goddamn aggravating, and arousing, beyond
all logic and reason. And I sensed such conflict within her. I
could tell she was interested in me, very interested, right from
the start, but for some reason she wasn't allowing herself to
explore that interest. Whether this was the client-lawyer
relationship barring her way, or something else, I couldn't be
sure. My controlled, mild flirting was met with such a frosty blow
off I feared she could turn me to ice. She was the legal snow queen
with the power to imprison her insolent subject, within an icy
tomb, with one simple word. But it only fueled my interest more and
spurred me on to try harder, to win her over. Ultimately, to
misbehave further. She didn't realize just how tenacious I could
be. I was the Rottweiler with a fresh lamb bone locked in my jaw
and nothing, absolutely nothing, bar my death, was tearing me away
from consuming it.

She could
protest and blast me with ice all she liked, I was committed.

I laughed to
myself. I actually thought I'd nailed her one hundred percent with
my rose soliloquy, but she was simply playing me along. It seemed
we were both playing each other along. Playing mind games, with
neither of us knowing who was the master and who was the
puppet.

When I first
set eyes on her face, what I saw was a living china doll.

For how could a
face be so perfect as hers, and be real?

The palest
skin, like ivory satin, so fine that my fingertips were desperate
to stroke it. Huge, brown, expressive eyes stared at me. Sad and
then so angry. They switched from one emotion to the next at
lightening speed. Her small rosebud of a mouth was the most divine
formation; such pretty well defined lips, with a pronounced cupids
bow, and a tiny curve upward at the outer edges. There was more
than just a suggestion of sensuality on that mouth. It was a whole
world of sin in its own right. I was fascinated by her mouth and
her eyes.

She made me
weep inside with desire, despite the fact I was still in the final
throes of my headache.

I was aching
for those curves, deliciously wrapped inside her suit, to have her
voluptuous ass in my hands, her soft breasts pressed against my
chest. To taste a mouthful of her warm, pliant neck. To thoroughly
taste everything that was hers. And all that hair—it had me in its
thrall. The dozens of loose raven-black curls cascading down to her
backside, neatly bound into a long frothy rope with a wide silver
band. I touched it as I led her out to the terrace. It was silky,
lush and so very tempting. It had taken all my strength not to bend
and rub my face in handfuls of it.

I was going to
release that hair and use it against her, mercilessly. I would wrap
it round my fists, hard and tight, to hold her head prisoner
however and wherever I liked.

To use it so
that I could anchor her in front of me, to taste those doll-like
features and kiss that temptation of a mouth, for as long as I
wanted.

She'd soon
realize who she was dealing with. My gentleman's facade was purely
that. A front.

I would take
what I wanted, like I always did, and she was about to get a
shocking taste of me tonight, because what I wanted more than
anything, was her.

I very rarely
wanted anyone like this. I guessed it was because she was more of a
challenge than I usually experienced. Actually, challenges were few
and far between. That was why I found her so desirable. She had
walls to climb. Barriers to demolish. I had to discover her
weakness, find her pretty little Achilles heel. We all had one. But
I'd find a way in, eventually.

I was quite
excited at the thought of silencing her pathetic wails of protest
with my mouth, and turning her to liquid mercury in my arms.
Possessing her delectable body until she was a moaning, writhing,
defenseless, pool of desire. Then I'd bury myself deep inside her,
taking her hard, arousing her in ways that would shock her to her
core, and making her scream my name so loud, she'd shatter
glass.

I went into my
bathroom for a quick freshen up and dabbed some of my favorite
cologne at my neck. Then I changed, getting dressed in a white
shirt with pin-tucked front and deep double cuffs. I chose my
favorite silver gray satin waistcoat and extra smart fitted
charcoal pants. My damp hair received a smoothing over with my
fingertips as I surveyed myself in my bedroom mirror. I picked up
my Rolex from where it lay on the dresser and I placed it over my
hand and clipped it at the wrist. Next to my Jaguar, it was my
favorite possession. Subtly diamond studded and oozing class. Then
I picked up and inserted my much loved black and silver cufflinks
into my cuffs.

Once my shoes
were on, I stood back and took a final look at myself in the
bedroom mirror

Not bad for a
five minute spruce up.

I was modern
and classic. And not too ostentatious. From my brief observation, I
didn't think Amanda was particularly impressed with affluence. But
hopefully she would be impressed with my efforts.

With a wicked
grin at myself I left my bedroom and returned to the study along
the upper hallway.

I opened the
door and stepped inside. But what I saw beyond my study door,
stopped me in my tracks.

She'd removed
her jacket, and her filmy, sleeveless, ivory blouse was on full
display. I could hardly drag my eyes away from her body. The subtle
hint of lace underwear was visible through her blouse, as it rested
in a silky sheen against her full, rounded breasts. In addition
she'd removed her shoes and her legs were tucked up on the large
leather chair beneath her. The knee length skirt she was wearing
had ridden up a few inches exposing a tantalizing glimpse of her
flawless, smooth and pale thigh. Her painted toenails made a
beautiful sight, a succulent and suckable treat, as her feet hung
over the side edge of the black leather seat. She was wiggling them
rhythmically, hypnotizing me for a moment.

My mouth
watered. I was starving, all my appetites were consuming me.

“
Sorry
about the delay, I had to freshen up. I'm pleased to see you've
made yourself more comfortable,” I said as I approached her, coming
to a halt in front of her chair. Not only had she made herself very
comfortable, she'd sprayed herself with a generous dose of
delicious perfume. It aroused my sense of smell like a tidal wave
of nasal ambrosia. And she'd rearranged her hair in a low,
side-swept ponytail which lay seductively over her shoulder, her
curls flowing down to her waist. Freshly applied lip-gloss
shimmered on her lips adding further to their allure, not that they
needed any enhancement. That might be a step too far. How could you
add gloss to perfection?

I saw her eyes
widen and sweep up and down me, taking in my somewhat improved
appearance, and registering considerable approval, although she
made no mention of it.

“
It was a
little stuffy in here.”

“
You
should have turned up the air conditioning if you were too hot.” I
cocked my thumb, indicating the panel on the wall.

“
Not a
problem, it was nice to take my jacket and shoes off and relax in
the warmth.”

“
We've
five minutes until dinner is served, but usually Bertrand allows an
extra ten. Shall we go downstairs and wait in the living
room?”

“
Yes
please. I think I've seen enough of your study today.” She stood up
and smiled at me, tilting her face upwards. She placed her hand on
my arm, steadying herself as she slipped her feet back into her
shoes. I felt the warmth of her touch as if she'd kissed my bare
arm and I swallowed back my reaction, taking a deep breath. “Right,
I'm ready when you are,” she announced.