Saturday, March 27, 2010
1:27 a.m.
Ethan shook his head hard. He didn’t want to remember Eve. Even after all these years, the betrayal hurt still. In spite of everything, he knew he also had to be grateful.
His eyes searched for the beautiful Buccellati silver frame. Sophia.
His gaze swung to the woman on the bed. He knew that she had been making an effort to please him by emulating Sophia’s style. In the last few days, she had become even more like the love of his life. He smiled sadly. No one can replace Sophia.
As if Barbara could hear his thoughts, she stirred. A moment later she rolled toward his side and her fingers searched for him. She sat on the bed and looked around.
In the dimness of the room, the motionless figure that stared back at her in stony silence looked lonely, and for the first time, Barbara took pity on the man. He had everything, but love. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he replied dryly. “Go back to sleep, Sophia.”
Her mind spun, searching for what Sophia would have said. And decided that action sometimes spoke louder than words. She rose from the bed thanking her acting training.
Barbara never felt very comfortable walking around naked. She hadn’t any problems with her body, but she wasn’t used to it. She mentally shrugged and concentrated on the task at hand. Not that it was a difficult one. Ethan was a very handsome man.
And very generous too, she was reminded, when the soft light of the side lamp in the sitting room glittered on the diamond tennis bracelet he had given her the day before.
The way Ethan’s eyes devoured her face and then her body sent a giddy thrill down her spine. She stopped in front of him and bent down, speaking daringly close to his lips, as she imagined Sophia would do, “I heard what you said, but I should warn you that I’ve never been good at taking directions.”
Jesus! Every day this woman is more and more like Sophia. Ethan ran his hands over her back up to her nape, gently pulling her head toward his, taking her mouth in a hungry kiss.
When he broke the kiss, he grinned mischievously at her and said, “Then, do your worst.”
Craigdale Castle
9:29 a.m.
Soft light poured through the gap in the curtains and Sophia felt a large, warm hand caressing her naked back. It was a wondrous way to wake up. She lifted her head and found Alistair staring down at her.
She didn’t speak, nor did he. There was a peaceful quiet in the room that they seemed in agreement not to disturb.
Alistair was propped on the pillows, his long hair streaming over his broad shoulders. He looked deliciously savage, but content as well. His hand moved up to her hair and he gently combed it with his fingers, resting his hand on the small of her back where it ended.
Something in the depth of his gaze fired to life. Something that made her melt inside. She licked her lips unconsciously and his gaze lit up further, until the green of his eyes was a slim ring around the dilated black of his pupils. His breathing roughened.
She couldn’t resist the silent invitation as his lips parted. His hand tightened around her waist when she pulled his head down to gently kiss him. It was barely a brush of lips, but one that made his already warming desire boil.
Alistair pushed her onto her back as his tongue lapped her mouth, warm and rough, outlining the curve of her lips and then running along the seam, demanding entrance.
Unable to deny him anything, she kissed him and his moan sent shivers down her spine that turned to a delicious burning as he kissed her back senselessly.
“You’re so responsive. You’re already on fire,” Alistair whispered as his hand trailed down her body. His hand cupped her and she gasped, arching her body in bed.
He kissed his way down, with light kisses as two fingers dipped into her.
Sophia moaned as he softly bit and licked her clitoris. His hands moved to palm her buttocks and he gently kneaded and lifted them open. “You have such an ass, Sophia,” he blew softly and with the tip of his tongue rimmed her tight ring.
“Alistair,” Sophia gasped, astonished at the unusual caress.
“Does it feel good?”
She was so surprised she couldn’t form any thoughts. “I—Do it again.”
He chuckled low before he licked her again and this time his tongue probed deeper.
“Ah,” she moaned, and her hips jerked in his hands.
His hands lowered her hips back to bed and he ordered, “Turn.”
She opened her eyes; a cautious look on her face.
“Soon, Sophia. But not today.” He smiled wickedly, his green eyes blazing with the idea. “Turn. On your hands and knees.”
He went to his side of the bed and opened a drawer on the bedside table, but stopped before taking out what was inside. “Do you trust me?”
“No pain?” she asked quietly.
He shook his head, “No pain, no violence. Promise.”
“All right,” she breathed. “What is it?”
He smiled naughtily. “A surprise. Just turn around.”
Sophia didn’t hesitate. This was Alistair. She wanted him; her body craved his touch. She turned over and pushed onto her hands and knees. She slowly crawled backward to get closer to him.
A firm hand gently gripped her hip, and his knee nudged her legs farther apart, and she spread them to give him better access.
As soon as he was satisfied with her position, he slid his hands over the curve of her buttocks and from her back to her breasts, squeezed and fondled them. “I am going take you like this, Sophia. Like a stallion covering a mare.”
Sophia closed her eyes and braced her palms against the bed in an effort to keep from falling, as her mind conjured all sorts of naughty images. She felt extremely vulnerable and aroused in that position. Her defenses were down. He could take her as he liked, do anything he wanted, and she didn’t want to stop him. Again his hand caressed her backside, caressing and rubbing until she sighed with pleasure.
He released her hip and came down over her until his body lightly rested against her curved back. The bed dipped as he braced his weight with one hand. He just slid one of his hands from her hip to curve under her belly, then lower until his fingertips teased her seam. He growled softly as he located her clitoris, rubbing back and forth until low moans burst from her parted lips. “That’s it. Nice and slow.”
Her eyes closed as she lowered her head and chest to the sheets and abandoned herself to the lust that coursed through her veins. A loud moan left her lips as she rocked on his fingers.
“Easy, now.” He shifted again and Sophia felt a slippery gel and a cold tip probing her anus and then pushing in.
She gasped as a shudder ran through her body and tightened up in reflex. She didn’t know if she feared the pain or the pleasure.
“This is about pleasure. Relax,” he urged softly as he touched her clitoris with one talented fingertip and pressed in the anal plug. And turned on its vibrator.
A shattered scream left Sophia’s mouth.
“Good?”
“Oh.” There was no coherent thought in her mind, while so many sensations burned through her lower body. “Oh. Yeah,” she half gasped, half screamed.
“More?” He pressed the plug a little deeper as she moaned loudly and writhed, rubbing her breasts on the bed.
Alistair’s fingers worked on her. One of his hands ran over her back and gently kneaded her butt. “Beautiful,” he rasped.
His finger slid lower, discovering how wet and ready she was to receive him, but he didn’t enter yet. He traced upward again to continue tormenting her. He applied a little more pressure, a little faster, and Sophia gasped and rocked her hips. He pushed the plug even deeper. He leaned on her and said in her ear, “I’m going to fuck you and make you forget your own name. And remember only mine.”
“Fuck me then, Alistair Connor,” she provoked, backing onto him.
He grabbed her hips with firm hands, positioning himself, “Hold on to the b
edpost.”
It was all the warning she got, before he hammered into her.
She jerked forward with a strangled sound and said, “Again.”
She felt full to bursting, stretched so tight around him, it was almost painful.
“I’m going to ride you hard.” The words came out as a near growl. His voice was hoarse and raspy as he hung on to his control by a mere thread. “Just keep still and take it.”
She had no choice. Her head was bent onto the mattress and her arms were stretched out in front of her, her hands gripping the bedpost firmly. Her knees were her only support as he drove into her again and again.
Images battered her mind. Her mouth went completely dry and she closed her eyes as pleasure coursed through her body. How must he look mounted over me?
She loved how hard and big he felt as he sank into her, stretching her walls. She was completely at a loss to describe the overwhelming pleasure that took hold of her body.
Grabbing her tightly, he mercilessly forged on, his fingers digging into her hips, breaching her more, and commanded, “Touch yourself.”
She gasped as her own fingers touched her. It was daring and bold and made her feel powerful and free. She knew she wasn’t going to last long.
“That’s it,” he rasped, even more turned on. He pressed down closer to her back after he was fully inside her. Pinning her under his body, he braced himself on the bed and placed kisses along her bare shoulder.
She moaned louder, urging him on. Her body quivered from the strong, intense pleasure and the last push to climax, when he withdrew almost totally from her and drove back in with one powerful thrust.
“Alistair Connor!” She cried out as excruciating ecstasy tore through her. Her muscles clamped down strongly on his arousal as her body shuddered in a forceful release.
But Alistair wouldn’t let it finish like that. His fingers dipped again to caress her oversensitive clitoris. The vibration in her ass, his rough thrusts and his fingers brought Sophia once more to the edge.
“Come for me again,” he grunted, his breathing harsh, as he increased the depth of his strokes, building pleasure taking hold of her again.
The need to come grew from a steady ache to a gnawing necessity.
“Alistair,” she pleaded.
His fingers left her for a split second and she moaned loud when the vibrations in her ass throbbed quicker. He moved inside her again, frantically drawing out the climax until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel. She wondered if it were possible to die from too much pleasure.
“Now, Sophia.” He was too thick, too big, too deep. He plunged, his hips slapping against her buttocks, sending the plug even deeper.
A deep slam of his, in time with a pressured circle of his fingers around her clitoris and the taking out of the plug, was all it took to send Sophia over again, spiraling up in wondrous sensations and then down in powerful release.
Alistair drew torturous breaths as his own climax seemed to never end, Sophia’s body clenching again and again around him. With a last deep and hard thrust, his world shattered and with a low and husky shout, he fell limply on the bed.
When Sophia opened her eyes again, Alistair was lying down on his side facing her. She smiled and whispered, “Hey.”
“Hey, you.” He scooted to kiss her on the lips and bring her to his chest. Looking down into her eyes, he asked quietly, “Was it good?”
She blushed and his chest trembled with contained mirth.
“I love it when you blush,” he whispered on her lips.
“If things keep going like this, there are two possibilities: I’ll either be blushing permanently or never again. I loved it.” She kissed his chest. “Alistair?”
“Hmm?” He lifted her chin so he could see her face better.
“I want to know what your fantasies are.”
“You.” He grinned, his green eyes flashing beautifully.
“I better be.” She scowled and poked his chest with her finger, “But, really.”
“We are already working toward it.” His big hand ran over her back until he grabbed her butt and squeezed it.
“My ass,” she said.
He nodded, but in truth, his most ardent fantasy was to hear her saying the three words he had repeated so often already. I love you.
Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse
10:35 a.m.
Ethan asked his housekeeper for more coffee and then turned to Scott. “You said you were keen on finding her secrets. So, what do you have to report?”
“Sir, I meant that everyone has things they consider too dark to turn public. She obviously has many. Too many disguises and subterfuges to just be afraid of criminals.”
“Hmm.” Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Maybe. And MacCraig?”
Scott produced an envelope from his leather suitcase. “Several love affairs, if you can call them that. A great many more one night-stands. An unusual marriage.”
“Unusual marriage? In what way?”
“His wife and her sister, if you get my meaning, sir, were known for their weird predilections.”
“A threesome? That isn’t so unusual,” Ethan said. You’d be shocked if you knew what my parents did.
“Oh, believe me, sir, there’s more.” Scott tapped the envelope with his new Montblanc pen. “This Heather, she didn’t try to hide it, although I didn’t find much about her. Before she died, their marriage was already breaking up and they both had multiple partners.”
“So he was unfaithful.”
“Apparently, sir, it was an accepted situation. An open marriage. I couldn’t find out exactly how it worked, but there are some clues in there. And, sir,” Scott’s voice lowered to a conspiratorial tone, “somehow Ghost managed to hack into his sister-in-law’s computer. She has lots of photos of them during sex. It’s all in there.”
Ethan looked at Scott as if he’d sprouted a second head. Then he chuckled. “That’s good, Scott. Very good. Remind me to deposit a bonus for you on Monday. Have you got everything prepared for today?”
Scott puffed out his chest, a habit Ethan found very amusing. “Of course, sir. Of course.”
“Good, Scott. Very good.” Ethan turned back to his papaya. “Inform Sophia she can have some time off until tomorrow night.”
Scott nodded and left the room thinking that the richer people were, the weirder they behaved.
Chapter 9
Craigdale Castle
11:07 a.m.
Sophia crept silently through the corridors and furtively stepped into the Blue Drawing Room. She went straight to the Steinway grand piano in the corner, the attraction too irresistible for her to deny.
She hadn’t played since Gabriel’s kidnapping, but something stirred inside her when Alistair had played for her the other night.
She closed her mind to the memories of Gabriel and how much he loved her playing. Resolutely, she sat at the stool and opened the fall board. Her fingers caressed the keys and an uneasiness took hold of her. She forged on and started to play.
The door opened with no sound and Alistair entered the room. Hearing the music, he looked around and his brows shot up when he saw her. “You never told me you played, Sophia.”
She jumped away from the piano, almost falling in her haste. She felt sweat roll down her back. “Not anymore.”
Huh? “What were you doing just now?” He strode toward her and commanded as he sat on the bench, “Come. I’ll play with you.”
She stared at him almost afraid of saying something.
He smiled reassuringly at her and making room for her on the bench, stretched out his hand. “Play with me,” he invited again.
“My nails are too long and I don’t remember any song for four hands.” She stood there, glued to the ground, looking wide-eyed at him.
He played a few notes with his left hand and wriggled his right fingers in her direction. “Play whatever you want, I’ll accompany you. Come, I’m not expecting perfection. It’s just for
fun.”
She shook her head, feeling her shirt getting wet under her armpits.
But he wouldn’t accept no for an answer. “Come on, I’m waiting,” he coached gently.
Oh, God. “All right,” she breathed deep, gathering courage, and sat by his side, “modern or classic?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“That good, huh? Listen…it’s been ages since I’ve played with someone. One day we can play together.” Sophia put her cold hand on his warm one and thought for a moment. “I’ll play a classical opus and a modern piece. They’re small and easy, but I love them.” She took a deep breath and lightly set her fingers on the keys. “Hope you don’t mind the sound of my nails.”
The sounds of Beethoven Moonlight, piano sonata number 14, filled the room. She closed her eyes, concentrated on the song, and her lips moved as if in prayer.
So sad. Alistair’s heart clenched in his chest. He looked at her face and was mesmerized by the many emotions.
She glanced briefly at him. Her eyes were dark brown and on her lips was an apologetic smile. Finishing, she launched into Memories by Barbra Streisand and started singing. Her head dropped a bit and her hair fell from her ear, curtaining her face.
Alistair looked at her, entranced, and very slowly so as to not disturb her, he pushed her hair behind her ear. It was then that he noticed that there were tears in her eyes. He placed his hand on her thigh and squeezed.
Sophia kept singing, her fingers moving over the keys and so much emotion in her voice, it astounded Alistair. Toward the end, she dropped her head, her voice faltered as tears fell freely.
Sophia ended the song and put her hands over her face.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice strangled, “I should have chosen another song.” She felt his arms wrapping around her and she put her forehead on his chest.
Gabriel again. “You still love him, don’t you?” he asked, despondent. Is there room in your heart for me?
Sophia understood the meaning behind his question; it was the same way she had felt about Heather not so long ago. She dried her eyes and smiled sadly at him. “I loved him. Very much. He’ll always have a special place in my heart. We were married for seven magical, joyful years. He is the father of my daughter.” She sighed and looked down at her hands. “His death was so, so stupid. If not for me and my father-in-law, Gabriela would still have her father.”