Chapter 28 #2
He strides to a clothes rail of leathers on the side wall of the garage. He moves one hanger then another and pulls out a third. He holds it up and looks beyond it to me.
‘This should get over your clothes.’
‘What? Me? No way! I’ve never been on a motorbike in my life.’
‘Okay, yeah, sure. You don’t want to do anything dangerous. I guess you’re not that girl.’
He turns his back to me and places the female leathers back on the clothes rail.
‘Give those to me,’ I say, snatching the leathers.
I watch from the corner of my eye as Gregory strips down to his tight-fitting Armani boxers and white T-shirt then pulls the leather bottoms up over his sculpted thighs.
Shaking salacious thoughts from my head, I quickly pull my leather bottoms over my jeans, then tie my hair into a loose ponytail.
Gregory is an absolutely indulgent sight to behold, seated on a shiny, electric-blue-trimmed Harley Davidson, his helmet under his arm. Heat traverses my body thinking about peeling him out of those intoxicating leathers.
‘Will I do?’ I ask.
He doesn’t respond but his eyes remain fixed on me, feral and hungry.
‘Get here,’ he says with his sexy South African twang.
He places a helmet on my head and tells me to sit on the back of the bike.
Throwing my right leg across the seat, I shuffle closer to his back until I can feel him snuggly between my legs, pushing back against my sex.
My bud pulses when he moves his right hand behind him and pulls my leg tighter around his waist. I roll my breasts against his back.
He exhales slowly as he puts on his helmet and kickstarts the bike.
The rumbling vibrations and the sex god between my legs reduce my mind to a fevered muddle of hormones.
I squeal as I feel the initial inertia, then we’re on the dirt track and driving back through the small forest.
On the open road, Gregory picks up speed.
I bend with him as he corners with the road; the combination of speed and the sensation of my legs wrapped around him is exhilarating and doing nothing to clear my mind of filthy thoughts.
We drive until there’s nothing but green land and sheep, until we’re the only two people in sight.
I wrap my arms tighter around him and he starts to slow the bike so I can hear his voice.
‘Do you want to stop?’
‘Yes,’ I say breathlessly.
He pulls us over next to a large, leafless tree and kills the engine.
I dismount and walk onto the grass to see the view but Gregory’s hand grabs mine and pulls me back against the trunk of the tree.
Excitement shimmers through every part of me.
I’ve thought about this for the last thirty minutes; I’m desperate for him to strip me down and fuck me.
He moves my right hand above my head and presses his leathers against mine.
When my eyes tell him how much I want him, he kisses me, hard.
He opens his leather bottoms then slowly pulls down the zip of mine.
I undo the button of my jeans and let him pull both down to my thighs.
I can’t believe I’m doing this but my need for him tramples any sensible thoughts I might have.
I push my hands inside his boxers and rub his hard length. I’m not the only one whose mind has been wandering. He bites his lower lip and closes his eyes. His hand slips under my hair, gripping my neck and drawing my head into his. I wrap my tongue around his, licking, tasting, absorbing him.
‘These leathers.’ I swallow his heavy, gruff words.
He wets two fingers in his mouth then moves them to my soaked sex, stroking my centre before sliding through my wetness into my entrance. He swallows my groan and rolls a thumb across my swollen clit, driving me wild.
‘Always ready for me.’
He lifts me from my feet and pushes me back against the tree. I call out his name as he brings me down on his hard cock. His growl fills my mouth as he draws slowly out and thrusts back into me, filling me.
‘Harder!’ My words are riddled with insatiable lust.
‘Fuck, Scarlett, you always surprise me.’ He lifts me and crashes me down onto him repeatedly as sweat beads form on his brow. I can feel myself building to an enormous climax.
He crashes me down again, somewhere between pain and pleasure – exactly what I asked for – and I feel myself rise to my peak. ‘Again! Gregory, again!’
‘Fuck!’ His bark is carnal, his eyes crazed, lost in need. He lifts me and thrusts then drops me down again, his sack slapping against my skin.
This isn’t love making, it’s hot, hard, frantic fucking.
On another punishing blow, my climax tears me apart.
My orgasm lasts an age, my muscles greedily squeezing his cock as he works me down with delicious, controlled turns of his hips.
I didn’t feel his release but he’s still throbbing inside me when I finally come to and my muscles begin to relax.
On our way back, rain starts to spit and the temperature falls to a little above freezing. Shivers have taken over my body by the time we park the Harley back in its space in the garage. Gregory takes my hands in his and blows hot air between them.
‘That was unbelievable, thank you,’ I say.
He brings my hands to his lips and presses his warm skin against mine. ‘The ride?’ he asks mischievously.
‘Both rides,’ I say, pushing his shoulder away from me.
* * *
I bathe in a ceramic, white tub with floor taps set in the middle of a marble-tiled room with original wooden beams drawing lines overhead.
As I lie in flickering candlelight, jasmine-scented bubbles cover my body to my neck, shielding me from the cold of the dark night.
The sound of Billie Myers’s ‘Kiss the Rain’ drifts up the staircase, I suspect from the lounge.
I dry my body and slip into a black, silk, floor-length nightgown. Unleashed from a gold slide, my hair falls across one shoulder.
Candles and a roaring log fire light the lounge.
Gregory is pouring two glasses of red wine on the rustic, oak coffee table where he’s laid a selection of hors d’oeuvres.
He’s washed and changed into a different pair of dark jeans, hair still wet.
The candlelight shows the toned contours of his bare chest. He’s spread a thick fur throw in front of the fire.
He stills when the wood floor creaks under my feet and watches me as I make my way towards him, where he runs a hand down my neck, over my silk gown to the small of my back. He kisses me once and lets his lips linger on mine.
With a glass of wine, I rest down onto the fur throw.
‘I’m sorry in advance but, well, you made it so appealing to me, I googled you.’
At first, I think he looks annoyed, then joins me and lies back, resting his elbow onto the throw and his head in his hand. He pulls two olives and an anchovy from a cocktail stick with his teeth.
‘Despite the fact I asked you not to?’
‘Temptation got the better of me.’
‘Well, I guess that makes us even,’ he says.
‘How so?’
‘I googled you a long time ago, Scarlett. Rather, my security team did. I needed them to do a little due diligence before I let you work for me.’
I scowl in jest then sip my drink.
‘So you dated Elise Alonso?’ I ask, trying to mask my feeling of utter inadequacy.
He sighs, then rests back with his hands interlaced behind his head, his chest exposed and inviting. ‘We dated two or maybe three times, that’s all. The press blew that up into something it never was.’
‘She’s beautiful.’
‘She’s a supermodel; that’s her job,’ Gregory says, almost irritated.
‘I guess. There was a picture of you with Princess Clara, too, and at the Cannes Film Festival no less.’
‘Get here,’ he says, encouraging me to lean back on one arm, a mirror of him.
He runs a firm palm along the silk covering my thigh, then slides it across my hip and continues his long, smooth stroke up my abdomen, through my cleavage.
My eyes close as my body submits to his touch.
He gently sucks my neck then nips my lobe.
‘I’ve never met a woman who’s beautiful and intelligent and makes me forget everything and everyone else in the world.
I have this insane, insatiable need whenever I’m around you and when I’m not, I just want to hear your voice, to see your face. ’
My lungs are paralysed and I allow myself to wonder, hope, that he might have fallen as hard and fast as I have. I place my mouth over his and try to tell him in a kiss just how bad I’ve fallen for this incredibly attractive, filthy-rich unicorn.
‘I’d really like to go to the Cannes Film Festival,’ I say when we open our eyes, both breathless.
He chuckles. ‘Anyone can get an invite to the Cannes Film Festival.’
‘Oh, really, Mr Big Shot?’
‘Well, anyone who’s anyone.’
‘You’re such an arse,’ I joke, playfully flicking a hand at his chest. ‘This is incredibly surreal.’
‘Because I’ve been to the Cannes Film Festival?’
‘No, silly. Just, being here, with you. It’s… bizarre. One minute, you’re being snapped by paparazzi and the next, you’re lying on the floor of an old, converted barn with… me of all people. Little old me.’
‘I know where I’d rather be,’ he says, pulling me onto his chest.
I rest my head on his pec and watch the orange flames burn in the open fire.
‘I can’t remember the last time I had nothing to worry about. The last time I thought, I don’t need to rush home.’
‘You must miss him,’ Gregory says.
‘I do. Enormously. But…’
He nods but doesn’t speak as he tucks my hair behind my ear. Why is it this man can penetrate all my walls with no effort at all?