Chapter 11
‘Rise and shine, baby; you need to get dressed. We need to get back to London.’
I roll onto my back with a moan. ‘Why are we in such a rush?’
He looks over his shoulder from his perch on the end of the bed where he’s pulling on his boots. ‘As much as I could look at that fine naked body of yours all day, I want it in my bed.’
Oh! ‘Is that right?’
‘That’s right.’
‘And what if I say no?’
He crawls onto the bed and lies above me, all dark jeans and tight, black t-shirt, with twinkling irises gazing down at me.
‘You won’t,’ he says, his minty breath too close, making it difficult for me to find sensibility.
‘Oh, really?’
‘Really, because I happen to know you can’t resist me.’
I have to force my hands to stay by my side instead of going rummaging under his T-shirt. ‘Hmm, you’ve got me. It’s your modesty; I’m so hot for it.’
In one fast move, he pins my hands to my sides with his legs and thrusts his tickling fingers under my arms.
‘Get off me, Gregory! Get off me!’
I squirm beneath him but he doesn’t relent. My squirms turn to screams and as his tickling increases, a belly laugh takes over my body. I’m heaving and panting but he still keeps going. ‘Stop! Please, stop!’
He halts his assault and I heave air into my chest. ‘Will you quit with the attitude?’
‘I don’t have an attitude!’
‘Wrong answer.’ The tickle torture recommences. His fingers are attacking my skin again and I’m squealing in response until the squealing turns back into a rib-aching laugh.
‘Stop! Please! Stop it!’
‘Will you be nice to me?’ This time, he won’t give me a second to think; his fingers continue driving my fit of giggles. God, it feels good to laugh.
‘Yes! Yes. I’ll be nice to you.’
He flashes me his most mischievous grin, white, perfect teeth and all. ‘Good girl. Come on.’ He jumps off the bed and offers me a hand.
‘What’re we doing?’
‘You are going to get dressed.’ He pulls me towards him and drops a kiss on the tip of my nose. ‘Then I’m going to take you home and make all of this up to you. Today is all about Scarlett.’
‘You mean, you’re apologising to me?’
He cocks his head to one side on a playful pout. ‘Do I need to show you who’s boss again?’
I shake my head quickly. ‘So do I get to choose what we do?’
‘Erm, no. I said today is all about Scarlett, not up to Scarlett. But don’t worry; I plan on making up to you all day. What else are Sundays for?’
Sunday. Day eight.
‘What’s wrong, baby?’
‘Nothing… I was just thinking—’
‘That John Harrison told us five to seven days. I know.’
‘How can you be so calm?’
‘It’s life, Scarlett.’
‘I’m not even going to pretend I understand that comment.’
‘Look at me. Stop biting your lip. Tell me what else John said.’
I shrug.
‘He said the longer it takes for the CPS to make a decision, the better. We’re another day closer to putting that night behind us, Scarlett.’
I wish I could believe that, I really do.
Gregory spins the Range Rover into a supermarket car park and leaves, returning with a bag of shopping, which he drops into the back seat.
‘Are you cooking for me?’ I ask, unable to hide the surprise in my voice.
He casts his head over his shoulder and reverses out of the space, then knocks the car into first gear and shoots out of the car park at Gregory speed.
‘I’m feeding you,’ he says, watching the road ahead with the smallest upturn of his lips. ‘Well, I might be; that really depends on you.’
By the time we reach the Shard, I really am hungry but I can’t tell which is the bigger cause: my empty stomach or the man next to me.
Gregory opens the door for me and as soon as we’re in, he casts the weekend bag aside.
My back is pressed against the wall of the lounge and he takes me by surprise, his tongue making a delicious sweep of mine.
I’ll never be able to resist his touch, his taste.
I accept his attack, groaning into him. He circles his already hard crotch against my skinny jeans and pulls my body into him with one arm at the small of my back, the other at the nape of my neck.
I liquefy in his hold as he takes command of my body.
I know who’s boss and I don’t care. I willingly relent control.
In one easy move, he lifts me, my legs wrapping around his lean hips. He carries us to the walk-in shower and plants me on my feet whilst he turns it on.
‘I’m hot from the drive,’ he explains. Not that I need an explanation; I’ll take any opportunity to see his sublime naked body. He releases my hair from its messy knot and pulls it through his fingers. ‘I’ll never have my fill of you.’
‘Good,’ I whisper into his parted lips. ‘I think I’m going to like make-up sex,’ I tell him.
‘Baby, I like every kind of sex with you.’
Once we’re showered and sated, for now, he dries every inch of my skin and towel-dries my hair, letting me see tender Gregory, the Gregory that most people never get to meet.
He takes my hand after a chaste kiss on my brow and leads me to the walk-in wardrobe in all our naked glory.
He slips into a pair of dark denim jeans and fumbles around locating my underwear drawer.
That heartbreaking half-smile is plastered on his perfectly angular face when he turns, dangling a black, lace thong in the air from one hand and a black, satin eye cover in the other.
‘Wait for me in the bedroom. Wearing these. Only these.’
I have no idea what he’s planning but something tells me I’ll like it.
I do as he says, making quick working of hanging my head upside down and blasting my long locks with the hairdryer.
I coat myself in shea butter then slip on the black thong and make my way to our bed, crawling backwards up the sheets, already turned on with anticipation.
When his footsteps approach, I slip on the blindfold as he told me to do.
Just the sound of him, knowing he’s in the room, has me wriggling and turning my fingers in the satin bed throw.
I quell my excitement, digging my teeth into my bottom lip, then the sound of him is drowned out by The Verve’s ‘She’s a Superstar.
’ The guitar hits my ears first, followed by the beat of the bass drum and when the beat drops for the smooth voice, I can feel Gregory near me.
My nerve endings are tingling like the strings of the electric guitar.
His hands part my thighs, his touch and the soft kiss of air between my labia set off fireworks at my no-doubt drenched vulva.
His mouth strokes my navel, sucking, nibbling, his bare body caressing mine as he works up to my neck.
‘Open your mouth.’ He words are low and drenched in sex. ‘We’re going to play a game.’
I’d ask him what the game is but my brain refuses to send a signal to my lips. I open my mouth, my heart rate already rising.
‘You’re going to guess what I put in your mouth.’ He’s hovering over me now, his breath close to me. ‘If you guess right, I’ll feed you.’
‘If not?’
‘You’ll go hungry.’
I know he doesn’t mean for food. He’ll refrain from the only thing that can sate the hunger I’m feeling right now in my spinning head, my fluttering chest, my knotted stomach and my throbbing entrance. The stakes are high.
‘We’ll start easy.’ He lowers himself so the weight of his hips is pressing his erection onto my abdomen, his torso held on his arms. ‘Open.’
Cool, wet, smooth. He slowly sweeps something across my lips. The tip of my tongue slides forward to meet it. Mm, sweetness. I swirl my tongue around the tip of the fruit, lapping up the syrupy juice. Then the fruit is gone. I want more.
‘Strawberry.’
‘Good girl.’
The strawberry is back on my lips. I reach out my tongue again, this time finding Gregory’s mouth wrapped around the berry, lowering the fruit into my mouth.
I bite into the strawberry when his mouth presses against mine.
We chew and swallow, then he sucks the last drop of flavour from my bottom lip.
Jesus, that’s erotic.
He draws back, exposing my lips, my face, my chest, leaving me squirming, bereft beneath him, desperate for his touch. I go to move my hands to his hair but his hands clamp down on my wrists and place them back to my sides.
‘No touching.’
I twist my fingers into the bed throw, my hips mirroring the circular motion.
‘Another?’ The lust in his words is a match for my wanton state.
I shake my head, meaning to nod. ‘Yes.’
‘Yes, what?’
‘Yes. Please.’
I smell it before I taste it, the rich and bitter blend piercing my heightened senses. ‘Chocolate.’ The word leaves me on an exhale, breathy, pleading.
‘That won’t do, Miss Heath.’ He pushes himself up, the scent disappearing, his weight lessening between my thighs.
‘No. Wait.’ My need to feel him against me, to have my senses driven crazy, is agonising. ‘Dark. Dark chocolate.’
He lowers himself but not all the way. I could scream. I need to feel him. The smell is back, driving through my nose and clouding my mind. ‘Orange.’ I lick my lips. ‘Dark chocolate with orange.’
He lowers his hips, grinding his erection onto my stomach.
I moan under his weight. Then his chocolate-covered finger is in my mouth.
The only part of him I can take. And I do.
I close my mouth around the base of his finger and draw back slowly, relieving him of chocolate, taking the richness with the subtle taste of salt from his skin and dragging the most erotic sound from him.
I’m gripping the bed throw, my back bowed, heat travelling up from my core. I lift my hips to feel his pressure against me. His chest lowers, rubbing against my breasts. He’s touching every part of me, making me ravenous.
He lifts his torso, cool air taking the edge off my burning urge to have him.
‘Next.’
Oh God! How much more can I take?
I concentrate on calming my raging desire and focus on the intensity of the building Evanescence track playing in the background.
‘Open.’