The Gift (17 page)

She stepped towards him and grabbed his head, dug her nails into his velvety scalp and dragged his face down to hers, almost smashing her mouth against his.

His arms came around her in a perfect smooth movement, like an exquisitely worked mechanism, as if their bodies were a single unit functioning as one. She tried to thrust her tongue into his mouth and assert control, but it didn’t happen. Couldn’t happen. His tongue pushed in between her lips and subdued her. Effortlessly.

Because, she realised fatalistically, it was still what she wanted, despite everything. She still tried to fight him though, because she knew that was what he wanted.

Their tongues duelled, and Sandy grabbed at Jay’s T-shirt, wrenching at it, pulling him closer. She grabbed at him, her nails digging through the cotton cloth as she growled at him, trying to mutter ‘bastard, bastard’ around the intruder in her mouth.

His answer was to haul up her skirt, bunching it with both hands to bare her bottom. Holding her with one big sinewy hand around one cheek, he suddenly slapped the other lightly, once, twice, three times.

‘You fuck!’ she snarled, tearing her mouth free of him while her heart thundered and her sex beat wildly in incomprehensible pleasure. He slapped again and her clit throbbed, swollen and excited. Unable to help herself she ground her crotch against him, circling, parting her thighs. Anything for pressure.

‘I am a fuck,’ he purred in her ear, the rasp of his voice raw and thrilling. ‘But you still want me all the same.’

She tossed her head, as if that could shake free the feelings. But even if 99.9% of sex was in the brain, she couldn’t dislodge the hunger, the pure rampant lust she felt
for Jay, right now, and all the time, really. All she wanted was for him to touch her, immediately, and bring her off. Then immediately after that, to throw her on the bed and fuck her to within an inch of her life.

She couldn’t look him in the eye, but he made her do it. Dropping her skirt, he cupped her face, a palm to each cheek, and compelled her to meet his gaze.

‘What do you want?’

‘I want you to stop thinking you can do whatever the hell you like to me, and just leave me alone,’ she lied, aware that, if he did leave her alone, she couldn’t bear it.

‘No can do. Stop lying and tell me what you want right now.’

She couldn’t imagine how she’d ever thought his eyes were cool and oceanic. They were metal now, full of sparks struck by his conflict with her. His entire face almost seemed to glow, his glare was so intense, so lit by sex.

‘I want you to touch me and make me come and then I want you to fuck me.’

‘And?’

‘And what? Isn’t that enough?’

‘Not for you.’

‘OK, I want you to spank me and mess about with me, and do all the kinky things you’ve done with other women in the past. You might think I’m an unsophisticated small-town girl that you can bamboozle and play fast and loose with.’ She glared back at him, wanting to do things to him – slap, bite, leap on, wrestle to ground, ride to oblivion … He was strong, but she had fury and lust enough to best him, she knew it. ‘But I’m a match for you, you bastard, and you know it!’

Jay laughed, throwing his head back and baring his fine
white teeth at her. Infuriated, Sandy raised a hand to land him a blow across the face, but he caught it effortlessly and held it behind her, at the base of her spine. A shiver of raw fear augmented her lust. He could hurt her for real if he wanted to. He’d rehabilitated his damaged body, and probably made it twice as strong as before, and the danger of him losing control made liquid desire well and ooze between her thighs.

Up came the skirt again, roughly, in a tangle, and an eye’s blink later that same hand was at the delta of her sex. Without finesse, without his usual measured guile, he shoved two fingers inside her, curving them to seek her G spot while he roughly thumbed her clit.

‘No,’ she moaned, rising on her toes, meaning yes, yes, yes! His hand rose with her, relentless, masterful, handling her with uncouth peremptory enthusiasm. He squeezed and rubbed, pressing her clit hard, almost cruelly. She actually shouted, ‘Yes!’ now, coming helplessly, drenching his hand with her honey.

The rippling clenching pulsations of her orgasm made her head go empty of all thought. It felt light and transparent. She swayed on her feet, falling against him, trapping his hand and reaching up with her own free one to hold onto his rocklike shoulder. Her face, mouth open, pressed against his chest, and she was dimly aware that she actually drooled on his T-shirt. And he held onto her, fingers and thumb, giving no quarter to her spasming pussy, making her come again and again, even when the pleasure was almost pain.

‘Oh please,’ she whimpered at last, begging for respite while her body surged again.

He stopped. Immediate response to her request. His fingers slid out of her, but stayed between her legs as he
gently cupped her sex in a light hold, as if to soothe it. He let go of her hand behind her back too, and slung his arm around her, supporting her, holding her safe. Automatically Sandy’s arm went around him, holding him far tighter, the lost little girl in her afraid he’d leave. Again.

Again?

She blinked, dragged in a breath. No, that was completely wrong. She was mixing him up with someone else. An impossible dream of a man, a fantasy. Someone so different from Jay’s ruthlessness and unstoppable voraciousness that he might as well have been a different species.

‘Are you OK?’

His voice was soft and solicitous, and for a moment past and present, fantasy and reality phased and blended again.

‘I’m fine,’ she said crisply, still shaken, but grabbing for the shreds of her normal self who had issues to face with this man, much as she desired him. As she began to pull away from him, and he began trying to stop her with a firm hand against her back and a sly sweet kiss against the side of her temple, a brisk rap at the door made them both jump.

‘Oh hell!’ Because he let her, she sprang away from him, flustered. She patted her hair, smoothed down her skirt, and glanced nervously at the door, waiting for it to fly open.

‘Relax,’ said Jay, with infuriating male casualness. He closed the space between them, brushed the long hanks of her hair away from her face in a way she’d been incapable of doing herself, and cupped her cheek for a moment. ‘Relax,’ he repeated, then strode to the door.

Sandy darted to the window and made a pretence of looking out, seeing nothing. Her mind was too full of impressions, memories, whirling excitement. When Jay opened the door, she reluctantly looked back towards it.

‘Your tea, Mr Bentley,’ said the cheery young woman who entered the room. She was pretty, blonde, and had a mischievous twinkle in her eye. She also had a very short black skirt on, which Sandy noticed Jay noticing, typical man.

‘Thanks, Maria, could you put it over there please?’ He gestured to a space on the sideboard, close to where Sandy was standing. Well, lurking.

Wearing astonishingly high heels as well as her micro skirt and crisp white blouse, Maria glided across the room and set down what was really quite a large and heavy tray laden with tea fixings and an assortment of cakes and biscuits. To divert herself, Sandy eyed them up. Exquisitely fresh and beautifully served, with immaculate white napkins, china, cake forks and the lot. Full marks to the Waverley for their English afternoon tea.

‘Shall I pour for you?’

Something about the blonde woman’s voice made Sandy frown. It sounded as if she was offering much more than efficient room service. Much, much more. Maria’s mouth was very pink and rather shiny, as if she’d been licking her lips. Maybe she preferred the taste of hard but hunky men like Jay to fondant fancies and butter biscuits? It certainly seemed that way. Her trim bottom swayed as she sashayed across the room, heading for the door and, as her blue gaze flickered from Jay to Sandy, her tongue flicked out across her lower lip, and her naughty grin widened.

How the hell does she know?

Surreptitiously, Sandy drew in a breath. But she couldn’t smell sex, just the Waverley’s light but rather exotic potpourri. Maybe working here imbued the saucy Maria with a more finely tuned detector? It certainly seemed that way
when she winked at Sandy over Jay’s shoulder while he was giving her a generous tip.

More than we got in the Teapot, I’ll be bound! Although maybe you think you’ve given me mine in kind?

As the door closed behind the retreating Maria, Sandy realised that Jay was watching her, smirking.

‘You seem to get on with her pretty well. Does she always bring your room service?’

No, don’t do this. He’s not your boyfriend. You’re not sure you even like him. Well, not properly. And especially now …

Jay’s dark brows lifted, the grin widened.

‘She’s friendly and helpful, and she works on reception and around the place. How am I supposed to act with her?’ He advanced across the room and Sandy tried to retreat, but couldn’t. ‘Are you jealous?’ he asked, looming over her as she stood beside the window, pressed against the layers of chintz and floating white nets.

She could smell his cologne, and the faint scent of earth from the frozen field. There was a hint of foxiness too, sex, desire, and perspiration, totally intoxicating.

‘How can I be jealous?’ Her chin lifted and she met his grey eyes with all her courage. ‘I only met you yesterday, and I’m not even sure I like you. Especially right at this moment.’

‘Ah, but we’ve also made love twice.’ He moved closer, his face almost touching hers. She could almost imagine she saw the surgeon’s minute stitches along the faint lines of his scars. ‘And done other assorted sex things too.’

‘Made love? Is that what you’d call it?’ She could feel the heat of her own breath, and he was so close, just another fraction of an inch and his beard would be brushing against her skin. ‘I’d call it all assorted sex things.’

‘Whatever.’ His voice was amiable as he threaded his fingers through her hair and stroked her scalp. When he exerted light pressure she felt her heart lurch in panic. She didn’t fear him, but she did fear herself. ‘Want to try something else from the menu?’

Not stopping to think, she dipped and shot out from under his arm and to the side, darting clear of him. ‘I’d prefer a cup of tea, actually.’

‘Fair enough.’

It seemed he was going out of his way, for the moment, to be non-combative. Which was infuriating because she wanted to get into it with him over his secretiveness, his weird combination of sexual high-handedness and old-fashioned courtship. Either that or she did want to make love, fuck, or do sex things. Whatever he wanted to call it. In fact, she wanted that far more than she wanted to argue, she had to admit.

Trying to settle herself, she took a seat, sinking into one of the chintz-clad armchairs. It was deep and softly upholstered, a nice piece of furniture, not just a cheap hotel chair to take up space. There was something strangely decadent about it, despite the homely fabric. She closed her eyes for a moment and seemed to see herself in the form of arty erotic photo images, a bit like the ones in the Lawns Bar. Lingerie, black and shiny, encased her body; and towering high heels, her feet. With her legs akimbo, she sat in this very chair with her crotch naked, pubic hair stringently trimmed.

Shaking her head slightly, she opened her eyes again and glared first at Jay, then the tea tray. Let him serve her. She deserved it. He was a bastard, and in her mind, at least for the moment, she was a sex goddess.

‘Milk and sugar?’ he enquired, eyeing her as if he’d read her thoughts. When he touched his tongue to the centre of his lower lip, she wondered if he’d seen the art photo thoughts too. Very much his bag, if all his talk was to be believed.

‘Just milk, thanks.’ She tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair.

‘Don’t do that.’

Something in his voice made her head come up. He’d not sounded bossy or harsh, but there was a cool metallic timbre to the way he spoke.

She opened her mouth to ask why not, then shut it again. Jay was staring at her, his eyes cool and metallic too, assessing. Challenging. Controlling?

What was this? By rights she should be resisting him, taking a step back and getting some distance, not allowing him to drive her to distraction again with a kind of erotic gamesmanship that she’d never experienced before.

He was certainly playing a game now, she realised, and had begun to without her becoming aware of it. It was the same magic web he’d woven around her in the car last night, leaving her with no control, making her his plaything, his puppet, his sexual doll.

She fell still, her arms resting motionless on the arms of the chair. Remaining immobile was like a conscious act, like effort in stillness, a strain on the muscles. And arousing, deeply arousing. Between her legs she felt the river begin to flow.

Could she speak? She had to try.

‘Why were you watching me yesterday? In the Teapot, or at the cocktail party. Why me?’

Pouring tea, adding milk, he didn’t answer for a moment. But when he brought her cup and set it on the dressing table at her side, he said, ‘Because when I saw you, you were all I could think about. I wanted you.’ Dropping to a crouch beside her, he plucked at the dark fabric of her skirt and eased it up her legs, slowly and methodically. The whisper of the soft cloth was like a caress, sending coils of sensation straight to her pussy. He inched it up and up until she was exposed, then folded it neatly in a roll at her waist, baring the dark auburn triangle of her pubic hair.

‘Beautiful,’ he murmured, slipping a finger between her labia, as if to test her. ‘Beautiful,’ he repeated, finding exactly what he wanted then bringing his glistening finger to his lips and sucking her juices.

She should have dashed his hand away. She should have covered herself up. But she couldn’t. She was hypnotised. Well, not exactly, but somehow enthralled by him.

He’s dangerous! He’s dangerous! He’ll keep playing with you until you’re addicted to him, and then he’ll disappear. Jump up, run from this place, end it now while you still can. While you can still forget about him and go on with a normal life.