Capture. Flora Dain
I take another step back.
‘I just listened. And I can’t believe you just did that.’
He lets out an impatient sigh. ‘One of the first things security people learn is to be discreet around their employers, no matter what. And believe it or not, one of the first things employers should learn is to consider their employees’ feelings and not get too carried away. So today they learned their lesson and you learned yours. From now on their behaviour towards you will be monitored. If they get over-friendly, or make you feel uncomfortable, they’ll lose marks.’
‘What? So I’m an exercise now? I’m your fiancée, Darnley. I have a position here. And you owe me respect.’ I dart out of the door and race up the steps.
Fury has strange effects. One of them is it clears things. As I run through the house up to our rooms all that bothers me is how fast I can pack, what I’ll need to take and how I get to the airport. Mercifully no one follows as I ram clothes into a holdall, reach for a thick jacket and check my purse has credit cards, loose change and tissues.
From the feel of it I’ll need plenty – but not yet.
As I make for the door a tall figure bars my way.
‘Going somewhere?’ Darnley’s glaring at me, his presence a powerful bar to my plans.
I catch my breath at the reality of him, looming in front of me. He looks so good … ‘I’m leaving. And don’t try to stop me.’
‘What? Why?’
I stare at him, stunned. ‘Why? Because you can’t do that. You can’t disrespect me like that in front of other people. Is that what you planned when you brought me out here?’
‘It was just a kiss, Ella.’ He’s frowning, like I’m talking in some weird foreign language. Like it’s me who’s unreasonable.
‘Next time? Who says there’ll be a next time?’
For a second, shock shows in his eyes. I waver, but only for an instant. He was filming that – me in an open boat … what else might he film? Maybe he’s got cameras lined up everywhere. Maybe I’ve walked into some porno nightmare, where everything we do is going to be filmed, packaged up, marketed and sold …
I try to push past him. ‘Let me go.’
He bars my way, immovable as rock. ‘Ella. Please.’ He pushes me back against the wall. ‘There are things I have to tell you about this place. I should have told you before.’ His eyes glint as he glares down at me. ‘First off, that thing in the boat made perfect sense to me.’
I open my mouth to protest but he claps a hand over my mouth. ‘OK, OK, not to you. I get it. But you work with troubled people, Ella. I’d have thought you of all people would understand what I’m trying to do here.’
‘I do understand. And I want to help. But that was plain wrong.’
His eyes glimmer. ‘Was it? Why? Because I take you out in a boat and kiss you? We do it all the time. Other people do it all the time. And in public.’
‘Not for that.’ I break off, startled at the flicker of pain that crosses his face. I summon patience. ‘OK. So tell me why you think that’s acceptable. I’m new here.’
‘Me too, dammit.’ His eyes blaze. ‘That’s what I’m trying to say. We’re all new here.’ He runs his hand along my arm, his touch on my skin like a shimmer of electricity.
His eyelids lower. Like he senses my response, his voice lowers. ‘That’s what this place is all about. Thinking outside the box. I told you that before we came. You knew what to expect. And this is what it’s like. I’m trying out something new here. We’re all learning. Even me. You may see or hear weird things, odd behaviour. Our recruits come from all over. Some of them may be – unpredictable.’
He’s frowning, his touch on my arm magnetic. His hand moves gently on my skin, his fingers folding round my arm. ‘OK, that was a mistake. But I’m relying on you, Ella. Don’t give up on me yet. Be patient.’
And all at once he pulls me close and stops my mouth with his. His attack is so sudden, his tongue so disturbing, I react instantly. I kiss him back in a frenzy as he takes possession, forcing me back hard against the wall, his tongue angry and probing, his erection, hard and rampant, grinding into me.
When he releases my mouth I smile slowly, forgiving him fast. My fierce surge of arousal is a powerful persuader, but I take one last kick. ‘What’s this? Still making a claim? We’re not in the boat now.’
His grinds against me again, pressing painfully into my soft, swelling places, He sets up a steady, cynical rhythm with his hips, sending darts of fire shooting through me.
Oh, yes … almost there …
He rests his forehead against mine and lowers his voice to a velvety murmur. ‘I make statements in public. I take my pleasures in private.’ His breathing’s unsteady now, as his eyes burn into mine. ‘Open your legs.’
He pins my hands high up on the wall with one hand while he rearranges my jeans with the other, tearing at my zip and pushing roughly at my denim so he can reach into my thighs. His hand’s firm and hot, his intention plain.
Deep down inside me fury still simmers. All it does is make everything more vivid. I thrust towards him eagerly, desperate now after all the teasing.
But he pauses, his eyes troubled, like he needs permission. And all at once I get it: he is asking permission.
Something in his expression tells me he knows he’s gone too far. He sees his weird alpha-male thing in my boat has upset me. He’s sorry. And waiting for permission at a moment as raw and urgent as this is how he says so.
My heart melts. For a second I press my cheek against his in a kind of soft, unspoken act of consent.
With a sharp sigh of relief he surges up inside me in a single thrust, a slick ramrod of power that almost jerks me off my feet. It’s like his rage is gathered in his loins, focused in his cock, propelling into me like a torpedo. He pulls away slowly and rams again, his gaze pinning me to the wall as surely as the pounding weight of his lithe, muscular body and the tight grip of his hand.
And now my arousal surges to match as I strain closer to meet him, thrust for thrust. I have territory too … softer than his, maybe, and quietly swollen with waves of desire from my gentler rush of emotions, but just as insistent and just as needy.
His eyes glitter as he draws closer to his finish. It’s part in triumph but partly something new. I can almost feel the pain of delay as he slows inside me, impaling me, holding off for agonising seconds but poised on the brink. It’s another statement of power, another tiny assertion of discipline, that he can make it last, make me beg …
‘How can you do this? Hold off like this?’ I’m breathless, longing for him to finish so I can catch him up. I’m only seconds away, my pressure building, everything deep down poised and aching for his next merciful invasion …
My climax hovers like coming thunder while he holds off the moment, still determined to pay me out. ‘Is this a punishment? It’s unnatural.’
He watches with a gleam as I wince and push against him, willing him in. I was enjoying that … He knows I’m close. I don’t have to tell hm. If I can feel his heat, he sure as heck can feel mine. It must glow all around him, burn in my pleading gaze, ripple through my soft muscles where they’re still drawing him in, craving release.