“Toys,” Jack answered, studying my reaction with care. “They’re quite specialist, actually. They’re new, too. I haven’t used them on anyone else.”
“What do they do?” I asked breathily as my eyes rose to meet his.
His gaze darkened. “Would you like me to show you?”
Quietly, I nodded, and he took the hoops from me. Grabbing a lighter, he lit one of the candles from the other night. I noticed they were specialist, too, as I read the label. They were sex candles, for lack of a better word, designed specifically for pouring wax onto your lover. They must have been less damaging to the skin, because the marks that had been on my lower back were almost completely gone by morning.
Jack held each metal hoop over the flame for several seconds, then instructed me to strip. Within moments my pyjamas were off. The room was dark, and the glow of the candles made me feel lazy and pliant. Jack studied my body for a long time, his gaze alone making my nipples harden as he brought the hot metal to me and ran it over my skin. I hissed in a breath at the warmth, and it felt a little like when you place your hand against a radiator that’s too hot. The metal was so thin, though, which made the sting bearable. He ran each hoop up and down my stomach before grazing them leisurely over the peaks of my breasts, until they rested around the circumference of each nipple. My breathing was heavy, my heart racing in anticipation.
“The metal holds the heat for about ten minutes,” Jack said, eyes all aglow as he absorbed the sight of me lying there, hot and needy. My breasts had never felt fuller with sensation. My nipples were almost painfully hard, the metal hoops sending thrilling spikes right to their tips.
“How does that feel, flower?” Jack asked as he rubbed my belly soothingly with his big hand.
I squirmed and let out a sound of undiluted pleasure. My words were choppy. “K-kind of m-mind-blowing.”
He chuckled. “I’m not done with you yet.” Moving down my body until his head was between my legs, he spread my thighs wide, bent forward, and licked lightly at my clit. All the while, his eyes moved from the hoops on my breasts to my face and then back again.
I could tell from the intensity of his gaze that the sight was giving him an immense amount of pleasure. His tongue lapped at me, going deeper each time until he found my entrance and slid inside. I fisted the sheets, my hips rising at the soft, silky feel of him. With the metal on my skin, several of my erogenous zones had been awakened. I’d never felt anything like it before. Jack’s mouth worked my body to a crescendo, every lick focused and intent on making me come. His fingers replaced his tongue inside me, pumping in a mesmerising rhythm, while his thumb went to my clit. He kept licking until I shattered, my body bucking and my skin tingling, as wave upon wave flooded me. I moaned long and hard, and was vaguely aware of Jack moving away from me, but I was too lost in my orgasm to pay too close attention.
When he came back, he held the wand in his hand. He ran it along my shoulders, and it was hot to the touch, just like the hoops. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, just feeling as he ran along every dip and curve, over my hip, down my thigh, along the back of my knee. His breathing was slow and focused, like he was concentrating on every tiny detail, every minuscule reaction the hot metal elicited from me. I watched how his arms moved, how the muscles contracted and released, and it was way too sexy. I could have come again if I wasn’t so exhausted. Soon, as the wand continued its voyage around my body, my eyes drifted closed. The hot sting started to feel like a warm caress, and that caress was lulling me to slumber.
“That’s it, go to sleep, beautiful,” I heard Jack whisper before exhaustion pulled me under.
***
The days began to blend into a sequence of shows, spending time with Jack, working on my art, travelling, and having earth-shattering sex that involved heat and pleasure and pain, and it was blowing my mind. Jack and I grew quietly closer. I say quietly, because when we were around each other, it was never long before our eyes met, before our bodies were touching in whatever small way we could manage.
But still, we spoke no words. We didn’t apply any labels, and it was oddly reassuring. I didn’t feel like I needed to chain him down and plaster a “boyfriend” sticker over his forehead. I felt like he was with me because he wanted to be, and if he didn’t want me anymore, then I’d know about it.
Julie kept her distance, mostly because it felt like all eyes were on her now. Ever since news had travelled of her attack, people became wary. Marina had given her a firm and final warning, so she was on her best behaviour. One thing was for certain, her performances never wavered. I marvelled at how she could be so crazy, yet it never translated over into her art. Or perhaps she was so good at her art because she was crazy.
The circus had moved its way through France and was now stopping in the city of Turin in Italy. Having lived on an island my entire life, it was amazing to think how we could be on the same land, yet move into a whole other country. One moment you’re in France, the next you’re in Italy. Turin was an impressive city, with beautiful architecture that was overlooked by the Alps. It was perhaps the most majestic place we’d been yet, and the shows were selling out every night.
I was putting away my face paints as the music I recognised for Jack’s act played inside the tent. I smiled at the edgy rhythm as I went about my task in my own little bubble, until a familiar voice broke through and almost stopped my heart from beating.
“Hurry up, Benjamin, we haven’t got much time,” my mother snipped as her PA hurried to try to keep pace with her. There was only one thought in my head as I stood there, frozen in place.
She found me.
This thought was followed by a number of expletives, and a distinct and tangible feeling of dread. Her heels clicked on the wooden panels set out at the entrance to the tent. The sound of those heels clicking would forever remind me of her, and was probably the reason why more often than not I chose to wear flats. My throat tightened, my skin grew clammy, and though I was out in the open, I suddenly felt like I couldn’t find enough air to breathe.
I couldn’t decide whether I should hide or go right up and confront her. She had no right to be here, and if she thought that somehow she was going to bring me home, she had another thing coming. A month ago I would have hidden, and even though in the grand scale of things a month was not a very long time, I wasn’t the same person I had been then. I felt stronger, less naïve. Yes, I still wanted to have an adventure, but I now knew that with every adventure came very real dangers, and I couldn’t simply throw caution to the wind like I used to think I could.
Maybe living life also meant doing things that were hard and sometimes scary. And confronting my mother right now was definitely scary. Before I could hesitate a moment longer, the word was out of my mouth.
“Mum,” I called.
She turned on her heel, straightened out her pencil skirt, and swung to face me. Her expression ran the gamut of surprised to relieved to angry in a heartbeat.
“Lillian!” she exclaimed, and began walking towards me. “Have you any idea of the trouble we’ve been through trying to find you?”
“You shouldn’t have come,” I said, folding my arms and standing my ground. I made a concerted effort not to stutter. Benjamin gave me a cynical look up and down. He’d been working for Mum for years and was the kind of sycophant who kept her thinking she was a wonderful person, instead of what she truly was, i.e. cold and mean.
“We’re taking you home,” Mum said, coming forward and grabbing a hold of my arm. “Our flight leaves in a couple of hours, and we don’t want to miss it.”
I jerked away from her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, she looked like she was about to burst a blood vessel. “We just spent over four hours on a plane to come here. Don’t be so ungrateful. If you’re worried about not having enough money for the flight, there’s no need. I already booked you a ticket.”
I laughed involuntarily. “Oh, a whole four ho
urs, what a sacrifice. And it’s not about the money. I’m staying here because I want to. I’m happy.”
Her impatience was clear on her face. “You’re supposed to be starting back at college in a fortnight. You might as well come home now. It’s the best solution for everyone.”
And that was exactly why she was here. It wasn’t because she genuinely cared about my well-being. She just didn’t want me dropping out of college and making a show of her in the process. I was sure if she’d really wanted to, she could have come and found me long before now. But no, this sudden intervention was because the new semester was just two weeks away, and Mum wanted me there in the lecture hall, playing the part of her studious little daughter.
“I’m not going back to college,” I said in a steady voice, holding my chin high.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you are. This is your final year. Quitting now would be a waste.” Jesus, it was like she wasn’t even listening. Like she didn’t care enough to listen. As far as my mother was concerned, her way was right, and everyone else’s way was wrong.
“No, the last three years of my life have been a waste. I should never had agreed to go to college in the first place. It’s not what I want. It’s not my passion. Yeah, I’d probably make a lot of money when I eventually got a job, but I wouldn’t be happy. What’s the point of being successful if you’re going to be miserable? I’d rather be penniless and happy any day of the week.”
Mum rolled her eyes to the heavens, like my little speech was a cliché she didn’t have time for. And okay, perhaps it was a cliché, but it was my cliché, and I was determined not to give in. I wasn’t going to be spineless and bend to her wishes anymore. I was going to lead the life I chose.
“You say all this now,” said Mum, “but wait another few months, and you’ll be whistling a very different tune. Wait until you can’t afford clothes or food, or a place to live, and then let’s see how happy you are. You’re used to a certain lifestyle, Lillian, and eventually you’ll miss the comfort.”
“I won’t,” I gritted.
“For Christ’s sake, stop being a brat. I’ve lived longer than you have. I know better. Now come, let’s go collect your things and be going. I want to have enough time for something to eat before we get on the plane.”
Before I could respond, I heard hard footsteps approach and then Jack’s deep, questioning voice asking, “Lille, what’s going on?”
My mother turned to face him, her eyes taking him in as she crossed her arms over her chest and raised a speculative eyebrow. Okay, so she had never exactly been a nun, and I hated to say it, but Mum had a thing for handsome younger men. She always kept it away from our home life, which was at least something I was thankful to her for. But over the years, I came to learn that she liked to use her hard-earned money to wine and dine toy boys. Needless to say, it wasn’t really something I liked to think about very often.
Jack had clearly just come off the stage, because he was using a towel to wipe sweat from his neck, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. I cringed when I saw how my mother appreciated the view. It was just plain wrong. Benjamin let out another impatient scowl and tapped his finger to his watch. I scowled right back while Mum ignored him, her attention all on Jack.
“Hello,” she said, stepping forward and holding out her hand. “I’m Miranda Baker. Lille’s mother. I came to take her home, I’m afraid.” She smiled urbanely, her last words mixed with amused laughter, like this was all a little misunderstanding. Like I was a five-year-old who’d wandered into the neighbour’s back garden and needed to be retrieved. My hackles rose as I gritted my teeth. Jack stared her hand, then arched a dismissive brow, making no move to shake with her.
“I told you, I’m not going home,” I said, loud and firm.
Jack’s gaze travelled from me to my mother and then back again. There was a beat of silence before he took a few steps to stand next to me.
“You heard her,” he said to my mother, cocking his head and giving her a placid stare.
Mum waved him away. “Oh, don’t mind Lillian. She has her head in the clouds most days. What kind of mother would I be if I left her here to fend for herself?”
“I’ve been fending for myself just fine,” I said, and Mum glanced at me, taking in my crumpled, paint-stained T-shirt and the long gypsy skirt I bought at a market last week.
“Your appearance says otherwise, darling. What on earth are you wearing?” she replied with just the tiniest edge of mockery in her tone. Now I felt Jack straighten, and his fists were flexing, a familiar sign that he wasn’t a happy camper.
“You need to leave,” he ground out as his arm went around my middle. Within seconds, my mother took in the dynamic. She may have been mean and controlling, but she wasn’t dumb.
“Ah, I see,” she said, pursing her lips before reaching into her designer handbag and pulling out her wallet. “You’re clearly attached to my daughter in some way and would be put out to have her leave.” Wow, I’d almost forgotten the knack she had for saying things without actually saying them. Her tone did it all for her. She had deduced that Jack and I were having sex and thought he’d be “put out” if I were gone.
“I don’t want any trouble, and you’re clearly a big, powerful man,” Mum went on, placing firm admiration in the words “big” and “powerful.” She was trying to sweet-talk him, stroke his ego so that she could get her way. “So, name your price,” she finished. “How much will it take for you to back off and let me extract my daughter in a hassle-free manner?”
My heart pounded and my face started to get red, I was so furious. She spoke about me as if I were a product she wanted to buy. And if I was furious, Jack was positively livid. He moved me so I was standing behind him, then took a step closer to my mother. She drew in a startled breath at his advancement and stumbled back a little, eyelids fluttering in surprise.
When he started to speak, his voice was low and menacing, “Listen to me, Miranda, and listen good. There is no price you could pay, no words you could speak, no threats you could spew that would make me let you take the woman I love away from me. Your daughter is worth more than what you think of her. She is one of the most beautiful, intelligent, talented, caring souls I have ever met, and she deserves better than you. She is not a commodity to be bought and sold, and she is not your property.” He paused before finishing firmly, “Not anymore.”
All of a sudden, I was finding it hard to breathe again as his voice echoed in my ears.
The woman I love.
That’s what he’d said. I swallowed hard and focused on Mum. She was staring at him like he was a foreign language she couldn’t translate. At long last Miranda Baker had come up against somebody she couldn’t buy or intimidate. Time seemed suspended, until I finally regained the ability to move. I took a few steps forward and slid my fingers through Jack’s to convey our solidarity. Mum’s mouth scrunched up in distaste, and she was no longer looking at Jack with attraction. He’d gone down in her estimation by the simple fact of being in love with her daughter, and if ever I needed proof that I was doing the right thing by severing myself from her, then this was it.
Benjamin began to grow uncomfortable as he fidgeted where he stood, probably because he thought Mum might expect him to go up against Jack. And yeah, her PA possessed about as much brawn as a Barbie doll.
I expected Mum to throw some thinly veiled insult back at Jack, but she didn’t. Instead, her attention landed on me. She let out a long, exasperated sigh, like this was all such an inconvenience to her and we weren’t discussing my entire life here. “I have tried, Lillian, but if this is what you want, then I suppose I can’t force you to come home. But know this, I will not try again, and when it all goes belly up, do not expect me to come to the rescue. You’re on your own now.”
I stared at her head on, my focus never wavering, and continued to hold my chin high. Her threats wouldn’t work to cow me anymore.
After imparting her final words, she turned to Benjamin, nod
ded for him to follow her, and left. My mother’s PA shot me one last retreating glance, like I was some kind of imbecile for not coming home with them, and then he was gone, too. Muted music streamed from inside the tent, and I stood hand in hand with Jack, a heavy tension resting between us. My heart felt full and light at the same time, my lungs drowning in emotion. I had never felt so much love for another human being in my entire life as I did for him in that moment.
He’d helped me stand up to Mum. But not only that, he’d shown her that I was worth something. He told her that although she considered me a burden, a helpless little bird she had to continually spoon-feed, that was not how he saw me. That in his eyes I was brilliant just as I was.
I turned my body to his and pulled him into my arms. My heart was beating double time as I soaked in the feel of his hot, silky skin and his long hair tickling my chin.
“Your mother is awful,” he murmured into my neck.
“You told her you loved me.”
“I told her that because it’s true.”
I pulled back and stared up at him. “Is it?” My words were so quiet, I wasn’t sure he heard them at first. He seemed amused rather than insulted by the question.
“You don’t believe me?”
Flustered, I backtracked. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. I just…this is going to sound stupid, but I need to know if you meant what you said or if you said it simply to stick up for me.”
He smiled down at me tenderly and brushed a tear I hadn’t realised had fallen away from my cheek. “I don’t say things I don’t mean, flower.”
All in one go, the air in my body left me. I was weightless as I sank into him, gripping his shoulders in my hands. And suddenly I felt shy, as his dark eyes penetrated me, flicking back and forth between mine as though trying to read my thoughts. I blushed hard and looked at the ground over his shoulder. God, how could I be shy about this when I knew he loved me, too? I had to say it. I couldn’t just let him put himself on the chopping block without putting myself on there with him.