Chapter 4
APRIL
I finish my final phone call fifty-five minutes after Jamie left me alone in the library and turn the ringer off before slipping my mobile into my bag.
I’m not going to turn it off fully, just in case there’s an emergency, despite agreeing not to take any calls.
Not that Jamie needs to know that. I’ll be discreet.
I turn to look out of the wide windows which afford a magnificent view of the sea, showing only a couple of small islands in the far distance.
We really are cut off here. Alone together.
A shiver rushes over my skin, but it’s not fear.
I think it’s actually nervous expectation.
Or something like it. It’s been a long time since I took any kind of holiday and, even though I’ll be “on” the whole time I’m here with Jamie, at least I’ll be doing it on a sun-drenched island.
My gaze snags on a movement in the distance. There’s something in the sea, right in front of the white sand beach I’d seen as the yacht had come in to dock at the island’s small harbour.
I peer harder. It’s not a something, it’s a someone.
It’s Jamie. He’s waist-deep in the water, his bare, broad back to me, and he appears to be staring out to sea as if transfixed.
But there’s a strange movement happening.
His right arm and shoulder are jerking up and down, making the muscles in his powerful back bunch then release.
It takes me a moment to realise what’s going on. He’s masturbating.
Is that because of me? Of what could have happened here in the library before he stopped it? Before he told me he wanted to build the anticipation? Is he, in actual fact, having trouble with that notion himself?
The thought of it sends a surge of relief through me. So it’s not just me struggling with the tension between us. Good. That gives me more power here than I thought I had. I can use that.
I can’t tear my eyes away from him, though.
I’m transfixed. Hot pressure pools at the juncture to my thighs and I feel my pussy swell and throb with interest. I’ve not felt this turned on in years.
I’ve had plenty of sex since I broke up with Jamie, but my sex drive hasn’t been the same, and I often don’t orgasm, or orgasm well.
Not that it’s bothered me that much. I’ve put it down to using all my sexual energy for working as hard as I do, which to me has been a fair trade-off.
But my libido seems to have come raging back to life since that night at the charity ball.
The coitus interruptus has left me with a strange, hollow sort of ache inside me.
One I’ve not been able to sate by myself, no matter how many times I’ve tried.
Thanks to Jamie and his tormenting games.
The obnoxious bastard.
His movements seem to reach a crescendo and a wave of electric lust crashes over me as I see his shoulders first stiffen, then slump in relief.
Strange echoes of what I imagine he must be feeling ripple through me and I’m almost jealous of him. I suddenly want to be that abandoned. That un-self-conscious and free to enjoy my desires again.
As I used to be when I was with him.
A memory sidesteps into my mind of how he used to send me sexually charged text messages an hour before he was due to arrive at my place.
He’d describe in explicit detail what he was going to do to me when he arrived, then he’d demand I go into my bedroom and masturbate until the point I thought I was going to come.
As soon as I felt on the cusp of an orgasm I had to stop, save it for him to finish when he arrived.
At first, I laughed off the idea of doing this, embarrassed by the idea of him knowing I was masturbating – a subject I’d never discussed with anyone before because I’d thought of it as a private and somewhat shameful act.
But after some persuasion he’d convinced me it would be a fun game and that I shouldn’t feel at all bad about the idea of giving myself pleasure.
That it was a basic human right to give ourselves orgasms.
So I’d tried it, feeling foolish at first. But once I’d pushed past the primal shame and embarrassment it had become exciting and illicit.
Because it was something only the two of us knew about: a personal, secret world of pleasure that we shared.
It had deepened the connection between us because it was a true exercise in trust.
And I came to love it.
I have to admit, it became really bloody tough as time went on, holding myself back from the release I desperately needed after an hour of self-denial, but it was so worth it. The orgasms I’d had once he finally allowed me to have them were out of this world…
I’m dragged out of my erotic reverie as I realise he’s turning around to face the house again, his magnificent chest sparkling in the brilliant sunshine with drops of sea water.
I can see the power emanating from his well-worked-out body from all the way over here.
All those hours training and playing tennis have left him with a physique to die for.
I’m having immense trouble taking my eyes off him, but I don’t want him to know I’ve been watching him, so as soon as he starts to push through the water and back towards the beach I move swiftly away from the window and face into the room.
I pace the floor as I wait for him to return, my knickers distressingly damp.
I want to touch myself. To ease the pressure of need that’s built between my legs, making my pussy throb with a yearning to be attended to.
But I daren’t risk it. I have to project an image of cool detachment here in order to maintain my pride.
I can’t let him catch me, either with my hand in my pants or with a healthy flush from the orgasm that’s now screaming for release.
Damn it.
Why did I let myself stand there for so long and watch? As soon as I realised what he was doing I should have looked away.
But I hadn’t and now I’m paying the price.
The library door opens and Jamie comes strolling in, his shirt clinging enticingly to his still damp-chest and his hair hanging in wet strands across his forehead. A bead of water escapes the hollow of his collarbone and runs down between his pecs, vanishing into the material of his shirt.
My breath catches in the back of my throat.
‘Time’s up,’ he says in a low, seductive tone which my pussy immediately responds to.
Hell, this is challenging. My whole body is vibrating with tension as he stands there and assesses me with that astute gaze of his.
Can he sense how I’m feeling right now? It wouldn’t surprise me. He always had an uncanny ability to read me, even when I was outwardly trying to not give him a reaction.
I take a mental breath and reach for a calm place in my head. Force myself to think strategically.
Actually, maybe it’s a good thing I’m so turned on.
If he makes any kind of move on me now, it’ll be easy to reach the orgasm he’s so intent on getting out of me.
There won’t be any play-acting needed. All I need to do is think of him as a warm body, an orgasm machine, a very large vibrator or man-sized sex toy, perhaps.
A smile pushes at the corners of my mouth at the thought of that.
‘Something funny?’ he asks, advancing towards me. My mouth dries instantly as I catch the scent of him in the air. It’s his natural musky fragrance mixed with the smell of the briny sea: fresh, sharp and seductive.
‘I’m just speculating about what you’re intending to do to me for the next few days,’ I counter. ‘And I’m wondering whether you’ve got the balls to go through with it.’
His eyebrows shoot up. ‘Believe me, I have the balls and I’m not afraid to use them.’
I nod, keeping it cool. ‘I only ask because it looks like the heat’s getting to you.’ I give him a taunting smile. ‘Have you just taken a cold shower?’
His hand goes to his damp shirt then back down to his side, where he clenches it into a loose fist. Is he wondering whether I saw him?
‘I’ve been for a swim in the sea,’ he says roughly. ‘You should try it. It’s a great way to relax.’
I suppress a knowing grin.
He moves even closer, so close I can feel the whisper of his breath on my skin, and my inner smile vanishes.
I think of all the things he could do to me right now to make me relax.
My body throbs with interest.
Perhaps he’ll tear at my clothes, like he did in the office at the fundraiser, then lower me to the floor and push my thighs apart to give him easy access to my needy pussy.
Or maybe he’ll demand I do a slow striptease for him, watching me the whole time with a superior smile before beckoning me towards him and burying his face between my legs.
Oh, God, my nipples are rock-hard and pressing distractingly against the cups of my bra, as if they’re very interested in the idea of being free and available to his touch.
My breath feels ragged in my throat and is coming out in small pants, as if my body’s being starved of oxygen.
But it’s not oxygen I’m craving.
I moisten my dry lips with my tongue and see his gaze shoot to my mouth.
Is he going to kiss me now? God, I hope so. I’m desperate for him to take what he wants from me so I can get the hell away from his tormenting presence.
We’re standing so close I swear I can feel his heartbeat moving the air between us. It’s a heavy, erotic pulse which matches the insistent throb of need between my legs. The scent of him is deep in my nostrils, penetrating my resistance, drawing out my desire.
Please just kiss me. Please. Get this started already…
‘Speaking of relaxing, let me show you to the bedroom you’ll be staying in while you’re here,’ he says, startling me with his businesslike tone. ‘Give you some time to freshen up before dinner.’
The sudden change in atmosphere makes me blink and I instinctively cross my arms over my chest, feeling like an idiot. He’s really not going to touch me yet, even though I’m aching for him to do so. This is just another way to torture me.