Unsure (21 page)

“Look around you, Ashley. What do you see?”

I turn in a complete circle. Nothing but untamed moorland in every direction. “I see the moors, grass, rocks, a few trees lower down.” I frown at him, puzzled.

“What else? Over there.” He points into the distance. I follow with my eyes but can’t see anything out of the ordinary. I shrug, baffled.

“Do you see the pylons down there? And over there, the reservoir? And everywhere the dry stone walls. This isn’t an unspoilt landscape, Ashley. Much of it is man-made. Beautiful, yes, definitely. It’s absolutely stunning, I love it here. I’m not out to spoil it. But the marks of industry and civilization are everywhere. The turbines are just another aspect of that. I tend to think of them as a necessary part of a twenty-first-century moorland landscape, if we want to have renewable energy and leave something decent behind for our grandchildren. And no one down at the Rock and Heifer’s offering to do without electricity. No one wants to give up their mobile phone so’s not to need phone masts. You can just make out a phone mast over there, by the way…”

I get his point, but still… I shift nervously, not wanting to break the gentle rapport building between us by arguing over something like this.

“You’re cold now, love. Time to be getting back?” He takes my hands in each of his and I look up into that soft mossy gaze I am starting to like so much. He leans down and kisses me lightly. “You don’t have to agree with me, Ashley, about the wind farm, or anything else really. My farming methods are unconventional, experimental I suppose. And I know you’re not at ease around Nathan. All I ask is that you listen and try to understand my point of view. Tolerate my rude friend. And I’ll try to do the same for you. Do we have a deal?”

I nod, smiling, conscious that I’m happier today than I have been in a long, long time. He brushes my lips lightly with his before handing me my helmet.

“Time for home. You promised me a game of chess.”

“I’m not very good. You’ll probably beat me easily.”

“Excellent. I’m relying on it, in fact. I thought we might play strip chess.”

Chapter Fourteen

My heart’s in my mouth during the entire journey back down the moor to Greystones, my stomach churning.
Strip chess!
Christ, what’s that? Well, no prizes for guessing what it is, but how will it work? Will I be able to do it? Will he mind too much if I back out? Will I back out?

We park the quads close to the kitchen door as before and hop off. I fumble with the strap of my helmet and Tom turns to help. I can’t meet his eyes, inhibited by awareness of him and of why we’re here. And I’m scared. Apprehensive. Strip chess can only end one way—with me naked. Then what? As if reading my mind, sensing my hesitation, Tom slips an arm across my shoulders, squeezes lightly.

“Don’t look so worried. Nothing’s going to happen that you don’t want. And it’s okay to say no if you’re not ready. I want you. Christ, I want you so much my balls ache.” He drops his arm, turns to face me, frames my face with his hands. He tips my face up to his, his eyes brilliant emeralds, glinting in the late afternoon winter sunlight. “But I want you willing, eager. Or not at all. I can wait. I don’t want to, but I can.” With a lopsided smile, he stands back and simply reaches out his hand for mine. I take it without hesitation, and we walk toward the farmhouse together.

Willing?
Yes, possibly, probably.
Eager?
Not quite that. Not yet. But maybe getting there.

We step into the kitchen and take off our coats. I start to pull the woolly jumper over my head but stop. One extra layer of clothing might be advisable. Tom smiles wryly, missing nothing. He holds out his hand again. I haul in a deep breath and take it.
I’m in
.

He leads me through into the sitting room, where a chessboard is set up on the low table between the two leather sofas. Trust Tom Shore to be prepared. The humble wooden pieces seem to dominate the room, my eyes drawn to them as I sit down on one of the sofas. Tom busies himself lighting the log burning stove in the hearth, which he must have also prepared earlier. Satisfied that the room is warming, he takes a seat opposite me, on the other sofa.

“Black or white? White starts.” His voice is low, a soft murmur. Unthreatening. I know what’s coming, what the next half hour or so will bring if I continue. If I agree. I remember the last time I was naked in front of him and shiver involuntarily. I look up sharply.

“If we play, if we play your way, and when I lose—which I will because I’m not very good at chess—I don’t want you to, to do anything painful to me. Or humiliating. I haven’t agreed to that.” I need him to understand, I need to make my limits clear. And this is before I’ve gone anywhere near the Oracle Abigail for advice and guidance.

Silence, then he nods slowly. “Understood. So, here’s the thing. I want to fuck you, you do know that?” His voice is still soft and low, the tone gentle and reassuring despite his crude words. I nod briefly, no point being coy now, and he smiles at me across the chessboard. “Is that okay with you, Ashley?” He waits for a moment, but I don’t respond. So he continues, his tone still mild, tender even, “And how would you feel, do you think, about making use of that pretty little vibrator of mine. The one you borrowed? I’m assuming, hoping, you might have brought it back with you?”

I gasp, horrified. I stare at him, wide-eyed.

“How did you know? How long have you known? Oh God, I’m so sorry.” Mortified doesn’t even get close to describing how I’m feeling. How stupid, how pathetic. I offer up prayers to anyone who might be listening to open up the solid wood polished floorboards and swallow me now.

Tom seems unmoved by my distress. And completely unaffected by the theft of his property, or my blatant violation of his privacy. With his next words I realize he must have been aware of it for some time. “I noticed it was missing more or less straight away.”

“What must you think of me?” I whisper the words, unable to look up, too ashamed to meet his eyes. “I don’t know what I was thinking of that day, I’m sorry. So sorry.” Then another thought strikes me. An ugly, hurtful thought. “Is that why you asked me here? Because you thought I might be desperate enough to, to…?”

“Hey, don’t take it so seriously. If I’d wanted it back I’d have asked for it. You’re welcome to it. And as you’ve had the thing for a few weeks now I dare say you’re far from desperate. It’s a decent bit of kit, you’ll probably have had a whale of a time with it. Just so’s we’re clear here, Ashley, I asked you here today because I like you, I enjoy your company. And because you’ve got the hottest little body I’ve seen in God knows how long and I can’t wait to sink my cock into it. If anyone’s desperate around here, it’s me. Is that clear enough?”

I gaze at him, stunned, shocked at his casual, tolerant attitude toward my misdemeanor, especially given our history. And perplexed at my own dreadful and uncharacteristic behavior. Desperately ashamed, I’m babbling now. “I shouldn’t have taken it. I was going to ask you, I thought about it, but I couldn’t. I thought you’d laugh, say something about me not being able to find anyone willing to, to…”

“Well we both know you’ve no problems there. I’m perfectly willing. And eager. And I’m sorry you didn’t feel you could ask me, but I get it and it’s done now. Forget it.”

“I can’t. How can you be so, so kind? So forgiving. When I went through your personal things, your private things.”

His face splits in a grin, friendly and engaging. I’m struck once more by what a beautiful specimen of a man he really is as he shakes his head in apparent bafflement at my confusion.

“Look, love, the way I see it is, I made you undress for me, I spread your legs, and I slid my fingers inside you. If that’s not an invasion of privacy I don’t know what is. So I reckon I’ve no grounds for complaint.” He hesitates a moment, lets me think about what he’s said. It makes some sort of sense, I guess. I start to relax as he leans in toward me. “Did you bring it today, Ashley?” he asks me softly. “The vibrator?”

I look down at my hands, folded in my lap, before looking back at him, holding his gaze. Another deep breath. “Yes, it’s in my bag. Shall I get it?”

“Please. Later. Now, you still haven’t answered my question from earlier and it
is
important. Is it okay with you if I fuck you, Ashley? Today? Now?”

I wait a few moments. Two people can play the waiting game, I think. Then I nod. “Yes, that’s okay with me. But I don’t want you to be disappointed. I’m not very good at that either. As well as being rubbish at chess, I mean.” There, it’s out. He can take it or leave it. Take me or leave me.

He looks surprised, puzzled. “What do you mean? What else are you rubbish at?”

“Sex. I’m rubbish at sex. I don’t—respond—very well. Never have. And I don’t know what to do to make you…happy. I can learn, though. Probably. I just…want you to know what to expect, up front.” And I do want to learn, suddenly. I want to explore this previously undiscovered aspect of myself. Reinvented Ashley, flexing her wings.

Tom just looks at me, silent for a few moments before he chuckles, his laugh low and sexy. “Darling, you and I both know how well you respond given the right—provocation. My fingers were inside you when you came before, that day at Smithy’s Forge when I spanked you. I felt it, I felt you squeeze around my fingers. I know how powerfully you responded then. Even terrified and hurting you orgasmed so beautifully. You’re like a fine musical instrument, and you need to be played by a musician worthy of you. And the truth is, love, up to now you’ve been screwing a dickhead. At the risk of sounding arrogant, I can assure you that things are going to be different from here on. Starting now. And you’re about to have the time of your life. Trust me.”

I’m staring again—I can’t seem to help myself. It all sounds perfectly wonderful, except it’s me he’s talking about. Plain, boring Ashley who’s scared of her own shadow most of the time, not some experienced, sophisticated woman of the world. “I just didn’t want to let you down, that’s all. I’m not sure…”

“You won’t let me down. And I won’t let you down. We’re a sure thing, sweetheart. Now, I’ll sort out some drinks before we start. Do you want tea, coffee, wine, beer?”

A couple of minutes later Tom’s grabbed a couple of bottles of Budweiser from the drinks fridge in the corner of the room and they’re now opened, standing on the table beside the chessboard. Along with three condoms he’s produced from somewhere. Taking his seat opposite me again, he smiles at me, totally relaxed.

“Three?” I ask, staring at the condoms.

“Enough to see us through till suppertime. Probably. I’ve plenty more, though, if you’re feeling especially lively today. I bought in extra supplies with you in mind, Ashley.”

Really no answer to that, so I settle for just blushing.

He grins, and continues, “Ready to begin, Ashley? Okay then, the rules. For every chess piece of yours I take off the board, or every time I put you in check, you remove an item of clothing. Shoes count as one item. Same goes for me, if you take any of my pieces. Once one of us is naked—and, sweetheart, that’s going to be you—you continue to pay your forfeits by kissing me, until the end of the game. And if I checkmate you,
when
I checkmate you, I get to fuck you. Agreed?” I can only stare at him, still a little stunned at this turn of events, and not least at the fact that I’m actually intending to play.

I’m not protesting so he assumes my silence to be consent. “Your move, Ashley.” And he sits back to watch me, and wait.

The first three or four moves are uneventful, just pawns advancing across the board toward each other. First blood, incredibly, goes to me as I slide my pawn diagonally across the board to take one of Tom’s. He smiles and takes off his boots before returning the favor and taking my first pawn off the board. My shoes are soon beside his on the floor under the table, closely followed by my socks.

Tom’s socks are next as I desperately try to retaliate, but the next thing I know his bishop has shot across the board and I’m in check. The woolly jumper is gone, neatly folded beside me on the sofa. Two moves later and I’m in check again. Now it gets interesting. I hesitate only a moment before unbuttoning my blouse and slipping it off. I fold it carefully and place it on top of the jumper. I glance at Tom. His face is impassive. If the sight of me stripped down to my bra is affecting him at all he’s not showing it. The game continues, and my jeans are soon neatly folded on the sofa as well. Tom’s only reaction is to get up and throw an extra couple of logs on the stove in the hearth. Considerate as well as a decent chess player, it would seem.

The game continues, me now in just bra and pants. I’m glad I thought to put on matching underwear, and I hope that maybe the soft creamy-colored lace is flattering against my olive skin. Despite the warmth from the log fire I shiver, and Tom glances across the board at me. He smiles.

“Nervous?”

“A little,” I admit.

“Don’t be, Ashley. I
will
take care of you.” And he moves his knight to put me in check again. “You can loosen your hair instead of taking off your bra if you like. I prefer it free.”

Anything to oblige. My black curtain of thick, waving hair is soon loose around me, a cloak that I know will soon be swept aside. The next couple of moves are uneventful, and then I spot a chance to take Tom’s castle. I do and watch, smug, while he removes his shirt. Then I just stare. His wide, sculpted chest is quite magnificent, hard and masculine, but beautiful too in its solid male perfection. I want to reach out, run my fingers over it, stroke and explore.