Quiver: Watched by Shadows (Quivering Shadows Book 2) (4 page)

Across the hall, he made casual conversation with the men at the bar, his mouth creasing upwards as he joked and gestured nervously in my direction.

He’d given me the scare of my life this evening; I had no idea how he knew where I was. Perhaps he had been watching me after all, like Terry and his shrill companion had said.

Regardless, I needed answers. I could no longer bear to be kept in the dark. And I promised to grill him as soon as he returned.

“Here you go,” he said handing me a glass of chilled white wine and sitting down next to me. I took a grateful gulp, trying to steady myself, but the heat from his body drifted over to me, and I could smell his salty vanilla scent. It made my head spin. I savoured it and breathed in more, wanting to get to closer.

“You probably shouldn’t be drinking, but you look like you need it.”

“What happened? And what the hell happened to your face?” I asked, about to reach for his cheek when I remembered the almighty slap I’d given him.

“Never mind me. I’ve been watching you, that was a close call tonight, Kate. I’ve been trying to keep an eye on you when I could.”

“But, that doesn’t explain—”

“I know pretty much everything there is to know about you,” he cut in, “where you live, where you work, where you go, and who you do after work.” My mouth dropped open. Shame, embarrassment, excitement.

“You saw that?” I asked quietly.

He smirked. “Quite a little show. Though the curtains came down before it got good.”

Without turning his head he took his eyes off me and quickly glanced towards the gathering at the bar. You could just make out through the white glare of the hooded table lights that they were talking about us, looking our way.

Casually he extended his arm around my waist.

“I really shouldn’t have brought you here,” he whispered into my ear, surprising me with a kiss on the cheek.

My hands trembled as he pulled me against his chest.

“Ok, but why? We’re not in danger are we?”

He ignored my first question. “Potentially, I don’t know. But this was the last place I thought they’d look for me, and you.”

“They did this to you didn’t they? Quadrello’s lot? I thought you were dead.”

I caressed his hair and the top of his forehead. Skirting around his bruises, careful not to cause him any further pain.

“Why do they want you dead?”

“It’s a long story. It’d only put you in more danger…”

I went quiet. I wanted to know more, but if I pushed him for additional details, I knew he’d clam up.

“So, your name is Eric, right?” I asked, taking an alternative approach.

“Yes, not that it’s a secret. You just never asked.”

He sounded hurt, or maybe he was just teasing me. It was hard to tell, but I had a strong desire to make it up to him, either way.

The details could wait till later. I’d had enough waiting around, being patient, I wanted to get down to the real nitty-gritty right now.

Chapter Six

D
istracted, I looked at the snooker table in front of us and imagined how the smooth green cloth would feel rubbing up against my naked skin. I’d climb up onto it, peel my clothes off in front of him and lie flat, opening my legs. I’d give him just a peak, readying myself so he could take his shot.

“Kate, did you hear anything I just said?”

“No, I was too busy imagining you coming inside me.”

Did I say that out loud?

He laughed, untangled himself from our embrace, stood and walked towards the corner, leaving an empty void beside me. A cue rack was mounted to the wall next to a pay-slot for the lights. He took his time selecting a cue and then dug into his pocket for a coin. He slipped the silver disc into the slot, and the lights clicked on, dazzling my eyes.

Methodically he proceeded to rack the glossy balls, placing the reds within a battered wooden triangle, leaving the other coloured balls in their pockets.

Staring at me he, picked up a cube of blue chalk and stroked the leather tip of the cue with its dusty residue. The gall– he was teasing me!

“Come here. I’ll show you how to play,” he said. He placed a white ball on the table within the semi-circle, the “D” on the baulk-line.

I stood at the top of the table while Eric positioned himself behind me.

“Here take the cue. You need to make a steady bridge with your fingers and let it rest upon it.”

“OK. Like this?” I asked, feigning ignorance, taking the tapered stick and placing it awkwardly upon my hand. Little did he know that I knew full well how to play snooker, and pool for that matter. But I wasn’t about to tell him that while his hands held onto my curvy hips.

“Lean forward a little more. Loosen your grip. You want it to glide…” he said. “That’s it, do it a little slower.”

His breath tickled my neck as he whispered the instructions. Bending over the table in such an awkward position, I flashed back to our time in the car-park – how he slid his hands up my spine, and how I forgot all about my insecurities.

I raised my butt higher, skimming over his rugged thigh. His left hand rested upon my waist while the other guided my arm, assisting it to strike the hard sphere.

The ball rebounded off the bottom cushion, miles away from the triangle of reds, and returned to the top. He reached out and placed it back with the semi-circle.

“Try again, a little harder this time. Aim for the reds.”

“You think? Are you sure you don’t want me to hit the cushion again?”

He let go of my leading arm and caressed the round of my bottom. It was hard to concentrate on anything while he rubbed my behind. His hand slipped between my legs and then stopped. A mechanical ticking counted down the time remaining on the lights.

“Hit the ball,” he said.

On command, I drove the cue at the ball causing plenty of top-spin. The reds flew apart, ricocheting around the table. Eric popped open the metal clasp of my jeans and slid the zip down, one tooth at a time. His hands stopped.

“If I pot one, you have to fuck me,” I said.

He laughed. “There’s always beginners’ luck. Go for it. I win either way.”

Not daring to move my body from his, I kept my feet planted. I lunged and lengthened my torso to retrieve the cue-ball, eager to place it back on its starting position.

His hand slipped between the unzipped opening and palmed my pussy, and he used his other hand to knead my right cheek, spreading and tugging it apart. My follow-through faltered at the last moment, and I missed hitting any reds.

“No fair, I can’t concentrate. You did that on purpose.”

“Try again,” he demanded, his hand smoothing down my curls.

I placed the white back onto its spot, briefly feeling the weight of it in my hand.

My upper body bent down, and I stared down the shaft of the maple cue; the butt, a thick ebony, grasped tightly in my right hand. This time, without prompting, I slammed the tip into the reflective ball with a slight angle to hit a red on my left; it bounced and kissed off another, which promptly plopped into the side pocket.

“I win,” I said, as he startlingly found and bored into my sweet creamy opening.

The timer clicked off, and the lights dimmed to black.

I gasped and cloaked the escaping moans of pleasure with my cupped hand, the cue rolling away to the side.

“Don’t worry about them. They can’t see us,” he said reassuringly. “But even if they could, I’d still take you hard.”

I stared over towards the bar; the small crowd had thinned and only a few remained. Those that did had their backs facing us. My body responded to the thrill of being in the same space as others while being so thoroughly exposed; my nipples stiffened, and I willed someone to turn around and look.

Eric’s rough fingers probed deeper, filling me, and then withdrew. He tormented and teased me. He grabbed me tighter, and I could feel his need struggle beneath his trousers.

“I want them to watch,” I declared and removed my top; I needed to be naked, and I needed to be seen. In that freeing moment, I didn’t care who those men were. I wanted them to take my naked body in while I was being screwed.

Eric pulled my skin-tight jeans down below my knees. He wasn’t going fast enough, and I had to bite my tongue to stop from demanding that he quicken his pace.

He pushed me down onto the hard table. That was more like it, I thought, and the clasp of my bra gave way between his fingers. The bra fell away, and my breasts tumbled out, swaying against the soft green cloth.

My knickers were gone, ripped from me, and his hand explored my ripe and dripping pussy.

Reaching behind me, I searched for his cock. He had it out, ready for me, and I took it, grasping it between my greedy fingers. I pressed it, buffing it against my ass cheeks.

Motioning up and down, I let go of his penis and laid myself flat against the solid snooker table, presenting myself to him. I didn’t need to be kissed, I didn’t need to be warmed up. I needed him inside me.

My hands sprawled and reached for something to hold onto as he continued rubbing himself against the crevice that led to my sweet hot spot. With nothing to clutch or grasp, I clawed with my fingernails at the green cloth, ripping it to shreds. Spreading my arms wide, I caused multiple red balls to double-kiss each other and clatter around the table.

“You have your wish,” he muttered behind me.

Not understanding, I half-turned towards him. He motioned with his chin towards the bar.

“You have your audience,” he said.

I looked up to see distant pale spectators take in a new sport.

The hairs on my arms stood up rigid, and my body vibrated with enthusiasm. We must be only ashen figures to our watchers, but I rose up, angling my torso so they’d get a good view of my plump breasts on display.

“What are you waiting for?” I demanded, before I could change my mind and cover myself up.

I couldn’t have asked for more as his thick cock glided into me like a snake slithering back into its home. He felt so good. Oh, how I missed this.

Placing my hands flat upon the felt, I braced myself as his body pounded against me. Rapid movements had us in a frenzy in a matter of seconds, both gasping for breath. He held onto my hips, digging his nails in, pulling me in to go further and deeper.

I stopped holding in my wild delirious cries and let the euphoria overtake me, not caring who heard me.

“Do it, yes. DO IT! FUCK ME!” I screamed.

I pinched my own nipples, pulling at them, stretching and squeezing them harder. I licked my lips, needing more. His hand travelled up my neck, beneath a curtain of hair, and I caught his finger and guided it to my lips.

His finger circled my lips. I tasted the tip of his finger with my tongue as he pushed it into my longing and hungry mouth. I sucked his thick finger eagerly, sampled my own tangy nectar and juices, as he continued to spear me from behind.

No one objected to our display. Instead, the watchers moved, edging their way slightly closer for a better view.

Their eyes penetrated my body all over, and I watched as their gaze followed my other hand. It burrowed through my short curls to rub over my throbbing clit.

A mere stone’s throw away, I made eye-contact with a bespectacled man, the edge of his frames glinting. He copied my motion and moved his hand towards his crotch, where I could see the outline of his cock. I blew him a kiss and squeezed and lifted my tits, placing one nipple in my mouth, nibbling and licking at it, all the while maintaining eye-contact with him.

My eyes closed as Eric let loose a furious cry of pleasure. I felt him burst within me, the ripples surging in me and causing me to cry out as my body shook. Spasms quaked within me so violently as I came, I thought I was going to split at the seams.

Chapter Seven

“P
ass me my bag, would you please?” I requested, as I struggled to get my top back on and tried to flatten my wild, tangled hair.

Our watchers had made a hasty exit while we weren’t looking. I’m not sure how I would’ve reacted if they’d stayed. But I was glad we were now alone.

“What the hell do you have in here? It weighs a ton,” he asked, his arm outstretched like the prong of a crane holding a swaying, heavy burden.