Beyond Temptation (29 page)

On the drive back, after making her call, Robyn had played a guessing game with herself, speculating about the identity of Gayle’s mystery lover. She supposed it was most likely Wayne from sales, but then she dismissed that guess as too obvious. Such guessing games were invariably wrong: it could be anyone from the office. Most likely, she thought, it would be the last person she would ever suspect.

That was when she had noticed the first flakes of snow.

She hadn’t realised it was so cold and her detachment from reality had made her worry. She had wondered if her plans, like her marriage, were doomed to failure. It was an unsettling thought and its dark shadow had plagued her on the long drive back to Holbert Manor.

She didn’t bother sharing her thoughts with Bernice.

Robyn simply squeezed the woman’s waist, planted a soft kiss against her neck, and whispered, ‘Let’s get to work.’

* * *

Harold drove the car briskly along the deserted roads. He handled the corners and narrow B-roads with a confident skill that was almost second nature. The wiper blades pushed slivers of snow from the windscreen but the conditions weren’t so bad as to make them dangerous. He was trying to keep his attention fixed on the roads but with Sheridan beside him it was a difficult task.

She was dressed in a garish multicoloured outfit that seemed to epitomise her punk style. Her T-shirt was so tight he could see the shape of her unsecured breasts clearly through the fabric. The rainbow-coloured top didn’t just show him the shape of her nipples: it clung to them like a lover’s fingers.

As with all of her wardrobe, the top was cut short, showing off her divine flat stomach and the gold ring that pierced her belly button. The matching skirt was as short as anything he had seen her in. But on this occasion the car’s leather seats added to his excitement. Her skirt had rucked up a little and, as he glanced surreptitiously down at her, he could see the gusset of her white panties. The vision, framed by the pale flesh of her inner thighs, made his cock stand hard as he drove them towards Holbert Manor. With a heroic effort of willpower he tore his gaze from her legs and crotch and watched the roads.

‘We don’t have to listen to this music if you don’t want,’ Sheridan told him.

He shook his head. ‘I’m beginning to like it,’ he lied, turning the volume up so that the Sex Pistols screeched louder from the sound system. He thought it was like listening to road works with a migraine.

‘I thought you might want to listen to some of your classical stuff.’

‘I’m happy with this,’ he insisted. He cast a glance towards the backseat and saw the reassuring shape of his briefcase held by one of the rear seatbelts. His smile broadened when he turned his attention back to the roads. The contents of that case were going to make him a very happy man, he thought cheerfully. He would arrive at Holbert Manor, most likely catching his wife unaware and, he hoped,
in flagrante delicto
.

The prospect brought a grim smile to his lips.

He felt certain she would have done something to give him grounds to divorce her. Once that fact was established he would make a deliberate show of hurling her out of the house. With that done he would take his briefcase, open it theatrically and present Sheridan with the contents: the ribbon-tied title deeds of Holbert Manor.

He could imagine her falling into his arms as soon as she saw them. He could feel her gentle kisses on his neck and realise that she wasn’t brushing his hands away as he fondled the rounded swell of her buttocks. The idea made his raging dick stand harder. He dearly hoped he didn’t embarrass himself when he was finally allowed to penetrate her virginal pussy. It had been a worry since he first set his sights on bedding her and after today he hoped he would be able to put it out of his mind.

‘Watch out for that pothole,’ she warned suddenly.

He had been so engrossed in the sight of her cotton gusset that he had lost all interest in the road. He glanced up, saw the deep pockmark in the road’s surface and swerved around it at the last moment.

‘You’re going to get us killed driving like that,’ Sheridan told him irritably. ‘Why don’t you watch the road, rather than my legs?’

He laughed and blushed at his own stupidity. ‘Your legs are more interesting than the road. I could die for those legs.’

‘Driving like that, you might just prove your point.’

He wished he could read the emotions behind her enigmatic expression. With any other woman he would have thought she was fixing him with a look of contempt. But Harold couldn’t believe Sheridan would ever regard him in such a way. Smiling cheerfully at her, he put his foot down and accelerated towards Holbert Manor.

* * *

Amelia stroked her tongue around the head of Yale’s cock, savouring the taste of his pre-come. From the corner of her eye she could see the snow falling against the lattice-leaded window. It looked to be growing heavier.

‘You don’t have to do this,’ Yale told her. He combed loving fingers through her long dark hair.

She smiled up at him, her mouth filled by his length and her eyes sparkling with muted excitement. She moved her lips briefly away from him to say, ‘I want to do it.’ And then she licked him again before sliding his erection back into her mouth.

‘I should be out helping the team,’ he said absently. ‘There’s all the hanging and positioning to be done. I feel bad leaving them to do all the work.’

Amelia drew his length from between her lips and studied him with a serious expression. ‘This is far more important than hanging pictures. I want to do this for you. And I want you to say something for me afterwards.’

Frowning uncertainly, he nodded his assent and leant back in the chair. ‘You look gorgeous in that basque and those stockings.’

‘Robyn’s idea,’ Amelia said, before lowering her mouth onto his cock. She kneaded his balls in the palm of one hand as she worked his length with her other. Her tongue was treated to the salty taste of his cock’s sweat and she shivered excitedly. Her own arousal mounted quickly. Breaking the intimate kiss for a moment, she said, ‘Robyn thinks that all the staff should dress like this when the exhibition’s open to the public. She thinks it will help with the publicity.’

He caressed her cheek as she moved her mouth up and down his shaft. She sucked softly at first, increasing the pressure by tightening her lips around him. His deepening breath told her that she was doing things just right for him.

‘May I?’ she asked, standing up and easing the crotch of her panties to one side. She showed him the thick swatch of hairs that covered her glistening sex. The lips had already peeled open like a ripe fruit. Her obvious need for him was apparent from the wetness of her sex, the raw and musky scent that flowed from her.

‘I’m not going to stop you,’ he promised.

She stepped over him, straddling his legs, and then lowered herself onto his cock. A soft sigh of excitement blew from her lips as her sex engulfed him. Raising and lowering herself onto his cock, Amelia couldn’t resist the impulse to kiss him. She leant forward and pressed her mouth against his.

‘I’m so worried about you,’ she gasped, releasing the words between passionate kisses. ‘Are you going to be OK doing this?’

He laughed softly. ‘Doing this,’ he said, gesturing below their waists. ‘I’m doing better than OK. I’m an Olympic champion.’

‘No, you arsehole.’ She struck a half-hearted fist against his chest. ‘Are you OK with Robyn’s plans?’

He nodded as understanding came to his face.

‘It’s not Robyn’s plans that worry you, is it?’ he asked shrewdly. ‘You’re more worried about me and Sheridan.’

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact.

‘I preferred it when she was Voldemort and we weren’t mentioning her name,’ Amelia said glumly. ‘At least then I could imagine the bitch was out of our lives.’

He placed his mouth against hers and thrust his tongue deep inside. She felt the tip trail against her teeth and twist alongside her own tongue. His obvious arousal left her trembling with an urgent need.

‘After today, Sheridan will be out of our lives for ever.’

‘Do you promise?’ she asked nervously.

‘I promise.’

‘Do you love me?’

He nodded.

‘Then tell me. Say it.’

‘I’m an artist, not a poet,’ he grumbled. ‘I’ve said I love you, and you know I love you. Do I need to repeat it two dozen times a day for you to continue believing it?’

Amelia considered the suggestion. ‘I wouldn’t mind.’

‘I love you,’ he said, kissing her again. ‘I love you.’

She relished the intimacy of his embrace, sliding herself quickly up and down his rock-hard shaft. Her climax was so close she grew dizzy with the need to explode. With a grim smile, she tensed her inner muscles and squeezed tightly around him.

Yale groaned.

‘Are you sure you’ll be all right dealing with her?’ Amelia asked. ‘This is acting and subterfuge we’re dealing with, remember?’

‘I’m good at subterfuge.’

She remained serious as she lowered and raised herself. ‘But this is Sheridan you’re dealing with. She’s a mistress of deceit.’

‘I’m aware of that.’

She looked away, and immediately wished she had done so sooner; then she wouldn’t have had to see the consternation that creased his brow. The thought that he was concerned about the task ahead of him unnerved her. Determined to distract herself from their plans, Amelia rode him more swiftly. Outside she heard the roar of an engine and wondered if it was the arrival of their guests. If it was, they were ahead of schedule.

After a moment’s thought she realised the engine she could hear could only belong to Yale’s motor home. Christian had been instructed to move it so that neither Sheridan nor Harold saw the vehicle as they approached the building. She supposed he was driving it around to the back. Trying to shut the sounds and distractions of the outside world from her mind, she indulged herself in the pleasure of having Yale’s cock fill her. She didn’t allow herself to think that this might be the last time she ever felt him.

That fear was too great to even contemplate.

* * *

Sheridan glared at the radio, sick to death of the screeching wail of the punk rock music. The sounds did little for her at the best of times. She was only feigning an interest in them now so that Harold would continue to believe her fashion style was dictated by her musical tastes. In fact she would have happily tuned into the classical station and listened to that, but he was trying to be nice to her and she was forced to pretend she was enjoying it.

The incoherent obscenities were unpleasant to listen to and were giving her a headache. She snapped the radio off and reached into her handbag for a packet of aspirin.

Harold threw her a curious glance and she waved the packet at him. ‘I can only stand so much of the Pistols at this time of day,’ she explained.

‘You can stand a bloody sight more than I can,’ Harold joked.

She smiled swiftly, popped two pills from the packet and dry-swallowed them both. ‘You still haven’t told me where you’re taking me. I’m being very trusting, allowing you to spirit me away to some far corner of the country. I could find out that you’re a violent sex attacker.’

As she spoke she traced her fingers over his knee, up his inner thigh and towards the bulge at his crotch. She made a surprised sound as she touched his erection, hoping it didn’t sound as contrived to him as it did to her own ears.

‘Ooh! You
feel
like a potential sex attacker,’ she said, grinning.

‘Perhaps I am,’ he told her. ‘Or perhaps it’s just the effect you have on me.’

She giggled. ‘Whichever way it is, it looks like I’m in trouble.’ She stroked the rigid length softly before removing her hand. Glancing nonchalantly over her shoulder, she pretended to notice his briefcase for the first time.

‘Why have you brought that?’

‘I have my reasons.’

‘What’s in there?’ she asked, reaching for it.

‘No, no, no,’ he said quickly. ‘I might have a surprise in there.’

She smiled excitedly, hoping the expression looked convincing. Reaching into the back, she managed to brush her fingers against the case. ‘If it’s a surprise, then I have to look.’

‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘Allow me to show it to you in my own good time.’

She giggled and punched him playfully on the arm. ‘You say the sauciest things.’

Her mind raced excitedly as she realised how close she was to seeing her plans reach fruition. The title deeds of Holbert Manor were in the briefcase. Sheridan had glanced inside while Harold paid for petrol at the last service station. However, she was happy to play his waiting game if that was what he wanted. Her participation in his plan would be the last thing he ever got from her so it was only fair to indulge him. Once she had her hands on the title deeds, she intended dropping Harold like an unpleasant habit.

‘Here we are,’ Harold said cheerfully, rounding the corner of an unspectacular road. He stopped the car at the bottom of the driveway, allowing Sheridan to stare at the splendour of Holbert Manor.

It was a building she had seen a hundred times before. The purple brickwork was as familiar to her as the office building where she now worked. Even dusted with a talcum sprinkling of snow it looked the same as it always had. She smiled wistfully through the windscreen, trying to pretend that she had never visited the place before.

‘Is this Holbert Manor?’

He nodded triumphantly, unable to suppress his own good humour. ‘Impressed?’

Sheridan wasn’t impressed. But she didn’t tell him. In all honesty she thought the building was gloomy, miserable and bloody cold inside. If she had been a given a say in its future she would have razed it to the ground and erected a handful of holiday chalets in its place. She had the good sense to keep this opinion from Harold.

Snow had lined the driveway.

Sheridan could see Robyn’s car parked outside, its nose pressed intimately against the bumper of Dominic’s black BMW. Her heartbeat raced as she thought of Robyn and Dominic sharing a similar intimacy inside the building.