Trust Me (Beggar's Choice #2) (19 page)

“Don’t you want to?” I hate how
needy I sound, but he looks at me in absolute amazement and then I gasp as he
grabs my hand and pushes it down between us until I can feel the hard thrust of
his cock. Moaning, I can’t help but run my hand down its length quickly,
inwardly gulping because he feels huge. He groans and presses his hand on mine
holding it still.

“Does that feel like I don’t want
to?” he asks darkly, nipping my lip savagely.

“No.”

“That’s right. I want to fuck you
so bad that I could push you against that wall right now and see how far I
could get inside you. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” I gasp, pushing my face
into his neck.

“Fuck,” he snarls. “I’m trying to
do the right thing Nell. Humour me because it’s the first time in my life that
I’ve
ever
wanted to do that.”

Letting out a long breath to try
to let out the desire I feel, I pull away and smile at him. “Okay then Mr
Hudson, if I can’t have my wicked way with you you’d better take me out and
show me a good time.”

He painfully rearranges himself
and then shaking his head he moves over to the window, opening it and letting
in a cold draft of air, then he smiles back at me. “That’s better. The only
alternative would be to stick my head in the ice bucket.”

“Which head?” I say smiling and
he laughs.

“Fuck babe don’t say that. I’ll
explode.”

“I’d like to see that,” I say
slowly and he leans towards me. I sway forward closing my eyes but a sudden
slap on my arse makes me gasp and open them quickly to find him smirking at me.

“Get dressed,” he says in one of
his mercurial changes of mood.

“You’ve got to tell me where
we’re going so I know what to wear.” I turn to my wardrobe and rifle through
it.

“Nope, it’s a surprise. Just wear
something warm and comfortable. We’re going to be outside and doing a lot of
walking.” He’s smiling widely and I stop to look at him.

“Look at you,” I marvel. “What’s
got you in such a good mood?”

“I’ve got a day off and I’m
spending it with you,” he says simply and my heart flutters. He says things
like this more and more but I know that I can’t get my hopes up because usually
as soon as he says them he pulls away. Today however he doesn’t.

“What has got into you? A whole
day out with no work! I’d have thought you’d have lined up a few hundred spread
sheets to wank over,” I say cheekily, and then shriek as he swats my bum again.
What has got into him today?

“Get dressed,” he orders and I
scoot over to the bathroom to get ready but I make sure that I open the door
and sling my nightie out so that I can laugh at his groan.

Half an hour later I’m ready. I’m
dressed in my black, ripped skinny jeans which I’ve teamed with a white shirt
and a tweed jacket that I found on a second hand clothing stall on Camden
Market. I wind an oversized, golden brown, paisley scarf around my neck and
bang my feet into my boots, and the outfit obviously meets his approval given
the fact that his hand slides down to rest on my arse and stays there when we
leave the room. We make our way down to the hotel foyer which is all bright and
white enlivened only by the delft blue Oriental rug which covers the floor. Sid
stops to sign a few autographs but he doesn’t let go of my hand, and his whole
body language screams that he’s got somewhere else that he needs to be, and it
isn’t long before we’re sliding into the back of a navy blue Audi SUV whose
engine is running at the kerb.

I smile a surprised hello at
Simon who is at the wheel. “I got Simon to drive today,” Sid explains as we
fasten our seatbelts and the car moves smoothly off. “I didn’t want to waste
time trawling around looking for parking spaces all day.” He gestures to a
wicker basket resting between our seats. “The hotel packed us breakfast because
I wanted to make an early start. Have a rummage through and see what you want.
I asked for a latte for you.”

I smile at him and after
rummaging through the basket with my stomach rumbling I settle on almond
croissants still warm from the oven, and I serve Sid and myself, handing him
his black coffee and letting out a contented sigh while I sip my milky coffee
which is done to perfection.

We spend the next hour chatting
and laughing about the tour so far and he offers some memories from previous
tours which have me holding my side with laughter. Not to be outdone Simon
relates humorous stories about his early days protecting the men, and before I
know it we’ve left the motorway and we’re turning into a long driveway that
leads to a beautiful, pale pink building that looks exactly like a Disney castle
with its delicate lines and fluting turrets. We pull to a stop on the gravelled
forecourt and Sid vaults out of the car walking quickly round to my side and
pulling me out. “I’ll call you when we’re ready,” he mutters to Simon who
smiles and motors smoothly away leaving us standing alone.

“Where are we?” I ask and then I
gasp and inhale as the most incredible smell hits me. There’s no way to
describe it other than that it’s a growing smell, comprised of a green,
powerful undertone topped with the most incredible fragrance. I sniff greedily
and Sid smiles, his teeth gleaming whitely in the early morning sunshine. “What
is that heavenly smell?” I ask and he grabs my hand pulling me towards a wide,
white path that runs off to our left. He moves me forward until I forcibly stop
him, gaping at the sight in front of me. The path meanders ahead but it’s the
carpet of tulips that lie everywhere as far as the eye can see that stops my
breath. Every colour of the rainbow is represented and their scent lies heavy
on the air so that every breath I take is perfumed.

“What is this?” I ask turning to
him and disturbing what looks very much like a tender look on his face as he
watches me. His eyes are soft.

“This is the Keukenhof Gardens.
Also known as the Garden of Europe.”

“I’ve never seen anything like
it.” I spin on my heels and inhale greedily.

“I know I don’t do romance but I
wanted to give you flowers in a way that you’d never forget,” he says softly.

“You’ve done that.” I’m
unbelievably touched that this hard faced, closed off man can be so unbearably
sweet. “Thank you,” I whisper, and he leans forward and kisses my forehead
closing his eyes as he does it and inhaling my hair. Then he straightens and
moves away leaving me cold. I sigh because this is what he always does, but
then I’m surprised again by him this morning.

“Let’s walk,” he says holding out
his hand to me, and I smile and let him take mine and tug me along. We spend
the next few hours wandering through the many gardens, along paths stippled
with sunshine, and after weeks spent in the close confines of the bus and
hotels this is exactly what I need. He keeps hold of my hand throughout the
walk and I enjoy the warmth and connection with him. It’s a magical place and
my eyes are assaulted in all directions by colours which are so bright they’re
almost psychedelic.

My favourite garden has to be the
herb garden which is so full of fragrant flowers that the air is heavy with
perfume. It also has a fantastic view of the neighbouring tulip fields which
lie flatly in multi-coloured stripes like the fizzy belt sweets that Sam and I
used to eat when we were kids.

After we’ve seen enough Sid
phones Simon and asks him to take us to Haarlem which turns out to be a picture
postcard city resting on the banks of a wide river. Left alone again we wander
down cobbled streets between tall gabled buildings. There are lots of art
galleries and we wander from one to the other still holding hands, offering
each other commentaries on what we see.

In one gallery there is a
beautiful display of stained glass with modern designs painted on them in vivid
swirls of colour. The sun shines brightly through them making the floor and
whitewashed walls alive with colour. “Something like this would look beautiful
in your house,” I offer shyly and he shoots me an arrested look.

“Where are you thinking of?”

I think hard, bringing the
details of his house to mind. “You’ve got that big window in the hall. The sun
shining through it would leave colours all over the white walls,” I offer
hesitantly, but he nods enthusiastically.

“You’re right. That would look
fantastic. Which one do you like?”

I consider them carefully,
touched that he’s letting me have this moment with him. That house means a lot
to him, and it matters to me that some small part of me will be in his home
with him forever, long after I’ve left his life. “I like them all,” I say
finally. “But how about commissioning something instead? Then you can have
something that’s special to you.”

“That’s a great idea. I’m going
to ask about it.” He leaves me alone to find someone to help, and I settle into
a leather chair resting my tired feet gratefully and letting the moving colours
have a hypnotic effect on me as I slip into a daydream about living in that
house with him. After about twenty minutes I see him coming towards me smiling
widely. “Did you speak to someone?” I ask, letting him pull me to my feet.

“I did,” he grins. “The artist
happened to be here so I spoke to him. He’s asked about me, my hobbies and
interests and he’s going to do some preliminary designs including some abstract
patterns which I quite like the idea of, and let me pick what I want.”

“Hope you didn’t include some of
the more risqué hobbies. I can’t quite see your favourite activity in a stained
glass.”

He laughs. “I don’t know. At
least masturbation in a stained glass would be original. However Nell, I don’t
think there’s a window big enough to depict my cock.”

“Or your head,” I add wryly and
he bursts out laughing throwing his head back. I bask in his happiness for a second
until he straightens.

“I got you something,” he says
almost shyly, holding his hand out. From one long finger dangles an expensive
cream coloured paper bag with pink string handles.

“Sid, you didn’t have to buy me
anything. Just being here today is enough.”

“You’ve enjoyed it then?” he
asks, not meeting my eyes.

“It’s been amazing,” I insist and
he smiles.

“Well pretty girls should always
have mementos of good days,” he adds firmly, putting the bag in my hand. I open
it warily, aware that he’s practically vibrating next to me. Nestled inside
bright pink tissue paper is a box and I open it carefully and then gasp.

“Oh my God.” Inside is a delicate
globe about the size of a large grapefruit. It’s made of clear glass and all
over it are painted tulips in beautiful vivid colours and stripes.

“It’s a globe. You can hang it in
front of your window and when the sun shines through it the colours will be all
over your room. I got tulips to remind you of the gardens. Do you like it?”

I hold it up to the light and the
colours reflect back onto my hand, spilling over the floor in front of us. I
swallow tears, unbearably touched. “Do I like it Sid? It’s the most beautiful
thing that I’ve ever seen.”

He smiles bashfully and watches
as I carefully pack it away. “I wanted you to remember today.”

“I’ll always remember it. I’ll
remember
everything
,” I say almost too fiercely and for a second we’re
silent, and then he smiles almost sadly and then holds out his hand to me.

“Are you hungry?” I nod slightly
embarrassed by my outburst which I think revealed more than I hoped but he
displays no sign of anything. “Come on then, let’s get something to eat.”

We wander along and he treats me
to hot milky coffee and poffertjies which are tiny puffed pancakes served warm
with melting butter and powdered sugar sprinkled over the top. We eat them
sitting by the river with our legs dangling over the edge, watching the boats
skipping along on the water, their sails whipping in the breeze, and trying to
ignore the group of giggling girls who are lurking nearby.

Throughout the day I know that
he’s been recognised because it’s well-known that Beggar’s Choice are in town,
and he’s a very attractive, famous man. However, because he has the beanie
pulled down over his distinctive hair and he’s put on a pair of black framed
reading glasses which suit him to a ridiculous level, it’s only really been the
hard-core fans that have recognised him so far, and they’ve been very polite on
the whole. A few young girls asking for autographs earlier hung over him trying
to edge me out, but throughout it all he kept a firm hold on me, slinging his
arm around me and not removing it.

“Do you mind it?” I ask him,
looking at the horde of girls nearby whose giggling and hair flicking make me
want to laugh.

“What - the attention?” He sits
back and stretches out his long legs. I nod and he throws his arm over my
shoulder winding his fingers in my hair. “At first it was amazing when we were
younger. I was so fucking excited the first time someone asked for my autograph
that Charlie swore I came in my pants.” I laugh and he smiles. “I didn’t
really.” He ponders. “I love the fans and you can tell the real ones and I
never, ever mind stopping to talk to them or sign stuff because they’re
respectful both to me and who I’m with. The paps and all those women just
looking to sell me out for the price of a story. That got old years ago.”

I run my hand down his hard thigh
feeling the power of his muscles and how he shudders slightly. “I won’t do that
to you,” I whisper and it sounds like a vow.

He turns and presses his lips
against my temple hard. “I know,” he says calmly.

I finish the last of my pancakes
and smile at him. “Best lunch ever.”

“I’ve bought women fucking caviar
and diamonds,” he says absentmindedly, pulling me to my feet and staring out
over the water. “But poffertjies and coffee in a paper cup please you.”

I stiffen because the thought of
him and other women is unbearably painful. I hate the thought that one day he
might say to the next one.
Why I remember one girl and a bag of pancakes.
Now what was her name?
Lost in these thoughts I became aware of him looking
at me. “What?” I ask, managing a wobbly smile.