The Gift (25 page)

‘Fuck you, Jay Bentley,’ she muttered, then swigged her wine again.

But as she set down her glass the hairs on the nape of her neck all came to attention. Turning to the door, she saw him there, paused momentarily and staring at her. How could he possibly have ever been Prince Charming? He was so tall. So steely-looking. So intimidating. And yet he already looked different, as if seen through a new filter.

As he threaded his way between the tables, walking towards her, his dark finely tailored suit jacket seemed to float from his broad shoulders. He dominated the room. Women at other tables stared at him, not in the least put off by his scars. Sandy didn’t blame them. God, he looked even better now that he appeared to be letting his hair grow. Even in a couple of days it had thickened, and was looking
extraordinarily dark. The same black as Prince Charming’s shaggy mane.

‘I’m sorry I kept you waiting,’ he said, sliding into his seat. ‘I meant to be here much earlier, but I was detained.’ He sighed and poured himself some water from the bottle of San Pellegrino on the table. ‘More wrangling with the old man. He’s a bloody stubborn old git.’

How odd. He talks to me as if we have known each other fifteen years. As if we’re old friends. Old lovers.

And for all his strangeness, she felt his body call to hers with a familiarity out of all proportion to the hours and days that she’d known it. Following the way he moved his fingers over the stem of his glass, she shuddered as if they’d left permanent tracks on her skin, on her breasts and her sex, ley lines that were suddenly irradiated anew by his proximity. Her own fingertips tingled too, as if his skin, his scars and his cock had left their brilliant spoor on her.

She wanted to talk, ask questions, set ground rules, but an electric field of pure lust short-circuited her brain.

‘It’s OK. I haven’t been here long and it’s nice. And the wine’s nice. Don’t worry.’

She blushed, aware that she was babbling and that she couldn’t stop looking at his fingers, his strong wrists, and then the wedge of tanned skin in the open neckline of his black silk shirt. She saw a peppering of dark hair deep in the V, and the thin but angry line of one of his body scars.

‘You’re too forgiving,’ he said. His husky voice sounded tense and tired. Was that from aggro with his father, or something else?

They stared at each other. Sandy’s brain seemed to grind thoughts and information slowly, and it was hard. Looking
at Jay’s body in his beautiful clothing, the strong shape of his chest and arms, was easy. It seemed a coward’s way out, but the temptation to shove issues aside in favour of sexual attraction was so strong she could almost taste it.

She wanted to taste him.

His grey eyes glittered as if he understood her perfectly. And concurred.

‘So …’ He sipped his water again. Sandy reached for the wine bottle, to pour him some, but he shook his dark head slightly. She set it back in the bucket and stared at him.

‘So …’ she echoed.

Jay laughed and shrugged his shoulders. ‘There’s too much to think about, isn’t there? Too much to process.’ He leaned forward in his seat, his forearm on the table. ‘Why don’t we just enjoy the moment for a while? Instead of raking over the past.’ He paused, his mouth tightening. ‘Or prodding at a future that’ll bite us in the arse?’

What did he mean? Sandy opened her mouth to ask, but Jay reached for her hand and folded it in his. The action should have been innocuous, but the way his finger stroked her palm was electrifying. Delicious energy shot from the tiny caress, careering along her nerves at light speed to settle and bubble in her sex. Within a couple of heartbeats, she felt her body moisten and bloom like a tropical flower.

The fingers of her free hand tensed against the tablecloth and Jay’s glance darted towards the tiny movement, monitoring her. The hard line of his mouth curved now, becoming mellower and more sensual. His nostrils flared as if he’d caught the aroma of the juice that drenched her panties all of a sudden. It was impossible, of course, but she could still half believe it. Had they given him bionic powers when they’d put him back together?

‘So,’ he said again, his voice low, ‘have you played with all your toys yet?’ His eyes scanned downwards, as if he had more superpowers, and he could see through the table, its cloth and her clothes. ‘Are you wearing some of your new lingerie tonight?’

She was. The coffee and chocolate ensemble. She’d nearly chosen the black and red high-end stripper set, but right at the last minute she’d chickened out and gone classy rather than overt beneath her simple black heavy silk sheath dress. It was her other ‘best frock’ besides the dress she’d worn to the Chamber of Commerce cocktail party, but this time she had on her own shoes, elegant, but not too high.

‘Could be,’ she answered, finding it possible, and easier, to smile back at him. He was right. They should play now, and face the thorns when they had to.

‘I suppose I have to guess which?’

She nodded, and he narrowed his eyes, and with his free hand stroked the beard that wasn’t there any more, as if pondering.

‘The leaves and shells set. Café au lait with darker lace?’

‘How the hell do you do that? Have you got X-ray vision or something?’

Jay laughed triumphantly and, leaning towards her, raised her hand to his lips, lavishing a kiss on the back of it.

‘So, what’s my prize for guessing right?’

Sandy began to shake, already knowing the award he wanted. Which was her, completely and unconditionally. He didn’t even have to name his price.

‘Who said there is a prize?’

‘Oh, I think there is. I’m convinced of it.’ He kissed her hand again, touching his tongue lightly yet lasciviously against her skin.

A soft cough made them both glance to the side, and Sandy wanted to laugh at the way Jay looked genuinely startled for a moment. He’d been so into her, no one else had existed.

It was the waiter with the menus but, when they began to peruse them, Sandy realised she wasn’t hungry. Jay’s impatient eyes told her he felt the same.

‘Look, what say we just have a starter here and then shoot over to the Teapot for the next course?’ she suggested. Her own boldness made her feel drunk, giddy, voracious. She’d only had one glass of the pink wine, but she was already floating.

‘Perfect.’

A few moments later, they were eating the chef’s special paté with crisp hot melba toast and delicious little accompaniments. It was sublimely unctuous, the best Sandy had ever tasted, and yet it almost seemed as if someone else were eating it, some other person’s taste buds sighing over the seasoning.

All she could think of was what was to come after. Herself and Jay, locked in a bubble of time and sex where neither the past nor the present nor any element of the outside world could touch them. When finally they were finished, and he came around to draw out her chair as she stood, her heart pounded as it had never done before.

Jay focused on the road ahead. He had to. It took all his powers of concentration not to stare at the woman beside him like a starving hound slavering over a T-bone.

His chest felt tight. Sandy was like grace and salvation to him. Almost three days spent arguing with his father had wrecked him far more than the old Aston ever had. The old
bastard was stubborn and domineering – traits Jay knew he’d inherited – and set on his original plans. He’d wanted Jay working in his business empire, wheedled him into it, and Jay had accepted even though he’d known they’d end up at loggerheads sooner or later.

But now he was away from all that, even if only for one night. Truths would have to be faced, but not tonight, please God, not tonight.

He risked a brief glance at Sandy, and his groin tightened instantaneously. Her profile was pure, her beautiful hair piled high in a messed-up chignon, her mouth soft and glossy, natural pink yet shiny with some cosmetic. He imagined his come on those lips, and in her let-down hair, and splattered across her beautiful breasts, so shapely beneath her classy black dress. She was wearing the lingerie he’d chosen, and the idea of that excited him in a way that made his cock excruciatingly hard if he allowed himself to think about it. He wanted to press his face into her cleavage, feel the heat of her through that fine coffee-coloured satin. He wanted to slide up her skirt and then slip his fingers beneath her tiny G-string. Was she wet? He wanted to think so. He wanted to play in her moisture, or watch her play in it instead.

His erection stirred in his shorts, pushing against his fly, aching, aching. The need to see and touch and kiss and stroke her was messing with his head, making it dangerously hard to drive his performance car.

Recognising a lay-by he’d passed before on the quiet stretch of road, he flipped the indicator and pulled up, his heart pounding.

‘What’s wrong?’ demanded Sandy as the car rolled to a halt.

Jay’s face was taut, his eyes brilliant in the darkened
interior of the car. Without saying anything else, he unclipped his seat belt then reached across to unfasten hers. Still leaning half across the car, he cupped her face and pressed his lips to hers, hard. As his tongue plunged into her mouth, his hand slid down, pushing aside her coat to find her breast and cradle it hungrily, without finesse.

There was nothing else to do but respond. She couldn’t have resisted, even if she’d wanted to. And she didn’t want to. She was melting, flowing with lust, and he squeezed her nipple through her dress. Kinetic energy in her pelvis made her wriggle.

‘You like that, don’t you?’ he growled, his mouth half-open against her face as he pinched and twisted the little crest of flesh. ‘A little bit of pain with your pleasure.’

Sandy gasped, loving it, hating it, confused with herself for wanting it, yet knowing that she’d been waiting all her life for a man to know what she wanted even when she couldn’t quite work it out. Reaching down, she cupped her own crotch, rubbing herself through her dress because she couldn’t stop herself and her clit was burning to be touched.

‘Oh, you’re so magnificently horny, Princess. Always ready.’ His voice was a low rasp in her ear, like claws scratching leather. ‘I bet you’re wet as hell … saturating that sexy little thong with your juices. Oh God, I swear I can smell you. I swear I can.’

Sandy gripped herself, twisting in the embrace of the car’s racing seat as Jay worked on her breast and possessed her mouth again, stabbing with his tongue. Her body was on fire for him, her pussy wet through, puffed and aching, silently screaming for his hand or her own.

‘Pull your skirt up,’ Jay gasped as their mouths broke apart.

‘Pull it up and show me your cunt. Now.’

It’s a public road
, protested the wimp inside her.

Who cares
, countered the woman dying of lust and ready, willing and able to do anything for this man, and give him anything.

As Jay continued to kiss her so hard she could barely breathe, she struggled with her skirt, hitching it and tugging it while she hefted her bottom around in the seat and tried to get her clothing out from under her. Jay helped, abandoning her breast for a moment to pull at her skirt and coat. Even as they grappled, the light from headlights swept across them.

She was in too deep to stop now though, and she knew Jay was. Her hemline came up, exposing the patterned tops of her stockings and her crotch, barely clad in lace and satin the colour of cappuccino. While she bunched her skirts at her waist he was already plucking at her G-string, pulling it aside, stretching the elastic to get at her.

His hot fingers found her and started working on her clitoris.

‘Pinch your nipples while I play with you. Go on! Do it!’ Sandy complied, squashing her swollen little teats hard, groaning at the pain but shifting her hips as it excited her.

Jay pressed her clit hard, and her heels dragged against the carpet in the foot well.

It was all unreal, surreal, hyper-real. Sex play in a supercar at the side of a country road. ‘Kiss me while I come,’ she commanded, suddenly taking the power from him. Or at least a bit of it. He laughed, as if deigning to indulge her as he crushed his mouth down on hers again.

His tongue fought hers as his finger flicked her clit. She growled into his mouth, then grabbed for him, clutching
frantically at any bit of him she could reach as her orgasm beat her on the rocks of pleasure and threatened to wash her away.

More headlights swept over them as she clung to him, her sex clenching and clenching, her clitoris pulsing beneath the pad of his unyielding finger. Sandy’s head rang with the sound of her own cries, grunts of passion, unladylike and revealing. She babbled profane nonsense, appalled by it, yet free. Her movements were crude too, thrusting and writhing, unfettered by shame or fear.

‘Yes … yes … yes,’ gasped Jay, as if applauding. His fingers were wet and slippery but he kept the pressure constant, coaxing and nursing her to new heights, without pause or respite.

Eventually, she croaked, ‘Enough! No more!’ And he withdrew his finger, but cupped her entire pussy in a gentle soothing hold.

More cars swept by. How had this road suddenly become a major thoroughfare? Had people followed them here, subconsciously seeking a show? Sandy didn’t care. She was aware only of Jay’s touch, the scent of his cologne, and his hot breath against her skin as she rested her forehead on his shoulder. She was leaning in towards him just as he was inclined across the car to get to her.

Still she held on. He was the rock now, solid and sure. She could cling on forever. But as her breathing steadied, all that had been unreal and out of the world slowly became real and normal again.

She was sitting in a car with her skirt around her waist and a man’s hand between her legs. Passing motorists probably couldn’t see her, but if anyone came by on foot, they would get an eyeful of far more than they’d bargained for.

‘We’ll get arrested,’ she said, pushing at Jay’s chest and arm. He seemed reluctant to let go of her at first, but then withdrew, settling back into his seat. In the darkness his eyes were stormy yet inscrutable. Sandy tugged frantically at her clothing but it seemed tangled somehow. He reached back across, slipping his hands under her armpits and, even at such an awkward angle, lifting her effortlessly so she could slide her skirt and coat beneath her.