Quiver (a Suspenseful Romance Novel) (12 page)

“
W
hat was that all about
?” the driver demanded.

“Oh, god. I can’t believe he’s alive…” I said, still panting. This was a good thing, though. A very good thing. Max being alive obviously meant Eric hadn’t killed him. Perhaps this whole mess would blow over, I thought hopefully.

Yeah, right. Keep telling yourself that.

Terry wanted us both to pay for what had happened; he needed to make sure we’d stay silent. And the sure-fire way to make that happen was to skip right ahead to murder, I thought. ’Cause that goon who’d been chasing us definitely hadn’t been trying to stop us to ask us for directions…

“Where are we going to go, Eric?” I asked. He had a plan, right?

Eric kneaded the top of his skull.

“I asked you a question!” the driver continued. “If my car is damaged—”

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut the hell up. Take us to the airport.”

The back of the driver’s pudgy head turned red and blotchy, and lucky for him he stayed silent for the rest of the journey, scared to say another word.

Feeling just as chastised as the driver I sat quietly and looked out the window. Barely audible, the radio churned out classic hits from the 80s.

Enough of this, I thought. I wasn’t going to let Eric keep me in the dark any longer.

“Eric, why are we going to the airport?”

He closed his eyes as his hand rested upon and supported his damaged ribs.

“If you don’t tell me what the plan is, I’ll get out of this car right now,” I warned.

“Kate, just let me think.”

“Are you serious right now? Tell me what the plan is. You do have a plan, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do. But—”

“Well, then, what’s the bloody problem? We’re supposed to be in this together! I knew I should’ve walked away,” I replied, beyond angry, but instantly regretted saying the words.

Eric grabbed for my waving hand and forced it still, squashing it with his own up against the soft worn leather of the back seat. His fingers pried open my closed palm and slipped in to hold my hand. I stopped fighting him, knowing I was overreacting. After a quick breath I looked at him. I had to start trusting him again sometime, right?

His thumb brushed the back of my hand in circles, sending familiar tingles around my body.

“We’re here,” the driver said abruptly, glaring at us both in the rectangular mirror.

“Kate, do you have any money?” Eric whispered as he glanced at the meter, then at my bag resting against my waist.

I’d forgotten all about it but there my bag was, with its thin straps looped across my body, still clinging to my frame. How it had survived the night I had no idea.

“Hurry up, I don’t have all day!” the driver continued, clearly wanting us out of his car as soon as possible.

I dug my hand into the still-damp bag and searched for the envelope of money Max had given me that night on the boat. My fingertips skimmed the paper of the envelope, which fell apart at my touch. Luckily, bank notes were made of sterner stuff, and although soggy from their little bath in the Tyne they were intact. Peeling away a couple of the notes from the clump in my bag, I thrust them at the driver, hoping he’d ignore the fact they were sodden.

“What the—?” he started to say as he held the wet, crumpled-up notes in front of him. But then with a quick shake of his head, thinking better of the matter, he pressed a button to allow our release.

Eric and I quickly got out and even with his injuries he was by my side in a flash, pulling me towards one of the airport’s entrances.

We were surrounded by families and couples dressed in loose, bright clothing, dragging massive cases behind them, ready for the baking sun at the end of their upcoming flights. I longed to be them, getting ready for a relaxing one to two weeks with nothing to worry about except getting a golden tan.

I followed Eric’s lead, his hand constantly tugging on my own, as we headed closer to the check-in desks. Yet, at the last moment, as I was preoccupied with reading the destination boards overhead, Eric veered off and we were outside again, farther down and out of sight of the taxi rank where we’d been dropped off.

“Eric?” I questioned. Perhaps this time he’d tell me what the hell was going on.

“Needed to make him think we were catching a flight… just in case they trace the cab and question him.”

“So, we’re not getting on a plane?” I asked, my hopes of finally getting away, out of this mess, dashed.

“Nope,” he replied, smiling, as his gaze landed upon our real destination, only a few hundred metres away.

M
y legs were barely keeping
me upright as I leaned against the wall, waiting for Eric to open the door to our room. My eyelids were getting heavy.

The hotel was one of those plain corporate types where everything is neutral and the decor is inoffensive. I waited, hid really—out of sight—while Eric checked us in. But I needn’t have worried; I didn’t need to hide since the bare-bones staff that were on shift paid Eric little attention anyway. He’d struggled across the foyer, limping slightly, but the receptionist’s head only bobbed up after he’d rung the little bell twice. The receptionist hadn’t even batted an eyelid when Eric said he had no luggage and waved the porter away, who was happy to get back to the game he was playing on his phone.

The staff probably saw it all, what with being so close to the airport, and were immune, inoculated, to the comings and goings of eccentric tourists.

Finally, the little plastic card that Eric had jiggled into the slot made contact with whatever electronic mechanism was inside the door handle, and a tiny green LED blinked on with a welcoming click.

The room was as expected: a box, nothing special to make it stand out. And yet the relief that washed over me once the heavy door closed behind us was immense. I’d been awake I don’t know how many hours, constantly on edge. It had taken a toll on my weary body. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d eaten.

Eric flopped down onto the double bed and groaned into the sheets. I wanted to do the same, to lie next to him and slip away into oblivion, but my skin itched. It crawled. The stink of river water wafted up from every part of my body. The soles of my feet were black and my hair was crunchy, and not in the nice way; I hadn’t emerged from refreshing salt water and allowed my salt-infused hair to bake in the tropical sunshine. No, instead I’d been coated with vile, dirty, oil-slicked sludge from the river Tyne. I nearly gagged thinking about it.

“First dibs on the shower,” I said, already stepping into the bathroom and hunting for any free bottles of shampoo and soap.

I left my clothes on for a few minutes, waiting for the shower to warm up, then peeled the dress off as the urge to get clean increased. I’d wash the dress and my knickers later, if I had any energy left.

Grateful for the warmth and the intense pressure of the shower, I stayed in there till I felt warm again, with my head pressed up against the glass.

I quickly dried off, my limbs trembling from exhaustion, and slipped naked under the covers beside a dozing Eric.

I nudged him awake. “You stink, go get clean,” I encouraged.

It’s strange how tiredness plays with your sense of time; I closed my eyes for just a moment, then opened them again with Eric no longer by my side, but with the sounds of the shower running in the distance. I blinked and a few seconds later, his warm, clean-smelling hands slipped themselves around my waist under the sheets. All this seemed to happen within seconds, but obviously I was zoning in and out of sleep.

I was too tired to open my eyes but as his whole body nuzzled up against my bare back and his legs tucked in behind my knees, I craved a release and sensed he longed for one too.

Eric’s fingers moved sensually down, dipping under my belly, stroking me. Swirls of lazy excitement twirled within me as I began to moisten. Behind me, wedged deep between the tops of my thighs and my bum, Eric’s cock thickened.

Delicately his fingers cupped the V of my pussy, then parted my folds and caressed in long lengths up to my waking clit. I could feel the increase of its pulse after each swipe made by Eric’s finger.

I kept my eyes closed, not thinking—happy in a dream-like state, enjoying the warmth and luscious feel of his hands on me and his body pressed close.

My thighs eased apart as Eric palmed my left cheek, and all at once his stiff, velvety head was there at my entrance. My heart fluttered. I was torn; I wanted him inside me but wanted the moment when his cock finally slipped into me to last forever. I wanted to feel every passing sensation when his whole length, every inch, filled me completely.

Eric angled his hips a fraction and I gasped. I was hungry for him to go in deeper, to go past my stretching rim and to satisfy my ripe pussy, but I stayed still—the only muscle I moved was the pulsing walls wrapped around his cock.

Inch by inch, over the course of several seconds—it could’ve been minutes even—Eric gradually submerged his rod within me. His pelvis ground against my butt and I pressed hard back against him.

When the time came for him to pull out so he could do it all over again, my toes curled, my thighs parted more and I rocked back onto him, not wanting him to leave me. But with a sudden thrust, his cock rubbed up against my tight walls and he was back where he was supposed to be.

“You feel delicious,” Eric said into my ear as he pushed into me again. His fingers grinded away at my sensitive clit as his other hand claimed my bare breast, my hardened nipple rubbing against his palm.

My breath became rapid as the intensity between my legs curled up into a tight ball, ready to explode. And with each thrust, the sheet that covered our writhing bodies slipped away, allowing a cold rush of air to skim over us, cooling the fine layer of sweat that covered our skin.

The combined sensation of heat rising between my legs and the frigid air around my chest sent my brain into meltdown. It was all so much, too much, and yet not enough. I panted, my mouth open, as Eric grunted behind me, his hot breath tickling my neck.

I grabbed for his hand that clasped my naked breast and brought it to my mouth. My tongue darted out, licking his forefinger, and I sucked him in. I needed to be filled completely.

His finger disappeared into my hot mouth. He let me have full control over it as I slurped up and down, tasting him, tasting where his finger had been. Enjoying the lingering sweetness that clung to his skin.

“Oh, god. That feels so good. That’s right, suck it, baby,” he moaned as my tongue curled around his digit, wanting to do nothing more than please him while he made love to me from behind.

The trembling first started in my belly and rapidly spread outwards, touching every nerve ending in my body.

“That’s it, come for me, Kate,” Eric said as the pressure of his other hand increased upon my hip. His thrusts became incessant, like a battering ram that would never give up till it got what it wanted.

His butt cheeks and thighs clenched and I moaned around his fingers, saliva dripping from my mouth as his scorching seed burst within me. The coiled ball sprang apart, shattering my every thought and sending bursting waves of pleasure rippling over my skin. White sparks dominated the backs of my eyelids, like static from an out-of-service television screen, as I pressed them closed, my body rigid, allowing the quaking to take hold, overpowering me.

I
drifted
in and out of sleep, bizarre dreams of men hunting me, wanting to hurt me, plaguing my unconscious mind. At one point in the night I rolled over in the bed, searching for Eric’s warmth, but the bed was empty.

Over by the rickety chest of drawers I heard the rustle of feet. Someone was in the room, I thought. I keep my body still as my heart thumped hard within my chest. I knew I was being silly; I knew it was Eric, I could sense his presence anywhere, but still the adrenaline couldn’t be stopped. It surged throughout my barely awake limbs, urging me to act. I ignored the cry.

“What are you doing?” I whispered and awaited a reply, hoping I wasn’t wrong.

“Shh. Go back to sleep,” Eric replied. “I’m just drying out the money.” Was that surprise I detected in his voice? But the thought drifted away, like a balloon caught in the wind, and my tired mind was no longer able to grasp it.

“Come back to bed,” I mumbled as I re-situated my head upon the soft pillow, an arm tucked under it at an angle, and fell back into oblivion.

Later, when I awoke again, something was different. I could feel the change in the air around me and I opened my eyes. I tried to pinpoint what had changed as I listened to the empty silence that surrounded me.

Daylight streamed through the dusty vertical blinds, the slits of light hitting the cream wall opposite the bed and illuminating the generic build-it-yourself flat-packed chest of drawers.

That was it! The silence. I lifted my head to confirm my suspicions. No longer was the room filled with the gentle sounds of another person breathing or moving about…

“Eric?” I called, my voice meek and scared. I hated the sound of my own.

There was no reply. There was no running water or any sounds coming from behind the closed door of the bathroom.

I sat up and scanned the room. The clothes he’d been wearing were no longer crumpled on the floor. Eventually my eyes landed upon the top of the chest of drawers.

The top surface was empty.

I had the vague memory of Eric laying the notes out one by one in order for them to dry but I wasn’t sure if I’d conjured the vision up out of thin air or if was real.

Oh, please no.

My throat was thick with panic. I scrambled from beneath the covers and off the bed, searching for my handbag. It lay discarded by the lonely chair in the corner. I reached my hand inside. The lining was dry now, but bare of its contents.

I clasped a hand over my mouth to stop the whimpering that tried to escape.

What was I going to do? He’d left me… I was sure of it. But why?

My heart grasped at straws as I searched every surface for some remnants of a note… anything to let me know it wasn’t true, that he hadn’t just walked away and saved himself. Perhaps the wedge of notes had been too tempting, I thought. My head shook from side to side, unbelieving.

No, Eric wouldn’t do this. But then where is he?

A loud, mind-splitting noise interrupted my thoughts. The ringing was coming from an old-fashioned-style phone that rested upon the bedside table. I stared at it, frozen, not sure what to do, but then quickly reached out for the receiver, hope rising again.

“Hello?” I said, wanting to hear Eric’s voice. Seconds dragged by and I counted my breaths. Through the distant crackle someone was there, holding their breath, but I knew they were listening.

The hairs on my neck stood on end as an icy shiver ran down the entire length of my spine.

Finally the other person spoke. “Run, Kate! Get out now!”

I slammed the receiver down as if it burnt me and it rocked on its cradle.