Desire #1 (4 page)

He smiled, sexily, guessing my intention.

“Would you like me to touch you, Katherine?”

I swallowed hard and nodded.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” he whispered.

“I want you to touch me,” I said. My cheeks flamed in mortification. I felt shy, but my desire was more powerful than my embarrassment.

“Where?” he breathed against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

I reached for his hand and held it between my legs.

“Ah, there.”

He didn’t undo my pants. Instead, he rubbed softly over the fabric. It felt good. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted his finger rubbing inside me.

The wetness had already soaked through my panties. But as he rubbed, I felt the pressure build, and I actually thought he might be able to make me come by just stroking me through my jeans. How was he able to make my body respond like this? I’d never felt so turned on with any other man.

My hands struggled with his belt buckle then fumbled with his zip. As I slid my hands into his boxers, I heard his sharp intake of breath. I smiled. He liked that.

I looked up into his eyes as my hands closed around his erection. He was so hard. I moved my hands back and forward, slowly at first, then increased the pace. He groaned in pleasure as I used my other hand to lightly cup his balls.

Shamelessly, I pushed myself against his hand increasing the friction. It wasn’t enough, I needed more. I slid my own hand down the front of my jeans and touched myself. I rubbed my fingers between my legs, building faster and faster. I could feel my stomach tightening, I was about to come when he grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand from between my legs.

“Are you touching yourself?”

I nodded. “I need to…”

He reached down to unbutton my pants. “That’s my job.”

He ran his fingers lightly over the lace of my panties. “God, you’re so wet and ready.”

I pulled him towards me. I was ready.
More than ready
.

He yanked down my jeans, and I stepped out of them, then he knelt in front of me and slid my lace panties slowly down my legs. By the time he’d removed them, I was trembling with desire.

I grasped the desk behind me. My legs felt like jelly, and I needed the support.

He cupped one hand around my right ankle and tugged gently, widening my stance. He stayed kneeling on the floor, keeping his eyes locked on mine as he raised his hand. My breath caught in my throat as his fingers slipped between my legs, caressing my wetness.

I groaned and broke eye contact as I tilted my head and arched my back. His rubbing made the heat build deep inside me. His finger slipped back and forth, building a steady rhythm. I arched my back again, desperate for more pressure. His fingers flicked across my clitoris, teasing, taking me to the brink of orgasm, but then easing off before I got the release.

I bit down on my lip, trying to stifle my moans, as despite my heady lust, I knew Geraldine wasn’t far away.

He pulled his hand away, and I looked down. He couldn’t stop now, not when I was so close. His dark eyes met mine as he moved his head to between my legs.

Oh my! He couldn’t do
that
. Not when I was standing up.

I let out a strangled moan as the tip of his tongue eased its way between my folds and sent electric tingles everywhere. He continued to kiss and lick my most intimate place and had me panting for more.

My hands reached out, and my fingers clutched his hair. No one had ever done his to me before. As his tongue circled my clitoris, he inserted a finger deep inside me. That was all it took to send me falling over the edge into bliss. I came hard, my body contracting with erotic pleasure.

I think I cried out. I couldn’t help it.

I leaned back on the desk, to stop myself sinking to the floor. I was vaguely aware of him standing up. But I didn’t have time to say anything before he whirled me around to face the desk.

He pulled off my shirt then unhooked my bra.

I was still surfing the waves of my orgasm as he slipped his finger inside me again. I stumbled forward in shock and braced myself against the desk.

I heard his belt buckle hit the floor. That small sound sent a surge of lust down to my stomach. I pushed my butt against him, wiggling against his hardness. I heard him groan as he began to rub the spot between my legs that gave me the most pleasure.

Then I felt the hard head of his erection probing my opening. I eased myself back against him and gasped with pleasure as he entered me from behind. The thick length of him pushed into my opening, further and further until it filled me. Then he began to move. I moved with him, trying to meet his thrusts. As his thrusts grew harder, my breasts jiggled wildly. He reached his arms around me cupping and caressing them as he pounded into me.

“You feel so good,” he said and moved his hands to hold my hips, pulling me to him as he entered me time and time again. As he built up speed, I felt a tightening, and he slipped his fingers between my legs to caress my pleasure spot again.

Holy crap.
I was going to come again.

I surrendered to the waves of pleasure as I came for the second time. I heard his breath coming hot and fast against the back of my neck as he gave one last thrust and groaned.

After he pulled out, I waited for a moment, holding myself up on the corner of the desk.

I suddenly felt self-conscious as I stood naked in front of a man I hardly knew. I bent down to scoop up my clothes then pulled them on as fast as I could.

He watched me as he zipped up his trousers. “You’re beautiful, Katherine.”

I flushed as I stared down at the floor. It was ridiculous to be shy with him after what we had just done, but I didn’t know what to say.

He seemed oblivious to my discomfort and walked around the other side of his desk.

“I’d like you to attend the small fundraiser this Saturday,” he said watching me pull on my shoes.

I answered automatically, “Oh, I don’t think that is a good idea.”

He frowned. “Of course it is. Your work will be on display. It will be a good career move for you. No doubt you’ll pick up some new clients.”

I paused with one shoe still clasped in my hand. He was right. It was the perfect opportunity to try to get more work. There would be rich, influential people at the party, people who may own artwork in need of restoration.

“I hired you through the recommendation of Suzanne Nolan.”

I nodded. I knew my college friend had used her influence to get me this job, and I was very grateful.

“I wouldn’t usually hire an unknown, without references.”

I swallowed then said, “I appreciate you taking a chance on me.”

He shrugged. “What confuses me is that your work is clearly excellent, so you must have a great deal of experience.”

His dark eyes focused on mine, and I flinched and looked away.

I’d thought about this and practised the lie many times, but it still tasted bitter on my tongue. “I wanted a fresh start, and I didn’t want to trade on my old employer’s name. I wanted to make a name for myself. To build a reputation.”

His eyes narrowed again. He didn’t believe me.

“I better go,” I said, backing away. “I need to get a move on if I’m to finish the mural by tomorrow night.”

He nodded, and I turned on my heel, almost running out of his office. I tried to smooth my hair and my clothes before I reached Geraldine’s reception desk, but I was clearly unsuccessful. She gave me the evil eye as I scooted past her workstation.

I mumbled goodbye as she pursed her lips in disapproval, and I rushed out of the office area and into the relative safety of the main house.

Chapter 5

The rest of the afternoon passed slowly. Every so often I would turn to the staircase expecting to see Benjamin Easton. But I didn’t see him. I tried to convince myself I didn’t mind, but every time I heard footsteps approaching I held my breath, but on each occasion it turned out to be Carter or Mrs. Wicker.

I didn’t see Colin Easton again either. I guessed he’d gone off to lick his wounds. Benjamin hadn’t treated him very kindly. I’d been a little preoccupied, but even I noticed that he seemed to be looked upon as some kind of poor relation.

As I applied a thin coat of varnish, I wondered whether I should attend the charity function on Saturday evening. Under normal circumstances, I would have jumped at the chance to pitch to potential clients. The party would be teeming with rich art lovers.

I didn’t know what Benjamin expected of me. Was he interested in me? I mean, I knew he desired me, that much had been blatantly obvious this afternoon, but was he interested in getting to know me?

I chewed on my lip as I pried open the lid of another small tin of varnish and stirred the thick liquid. My biggest concern was the way he found me so easy to read. I didn’t want anyone asking questions or raising suspicions about my past. Benjamin Easton was the type of man who liked to be in control, would he be content with my breezy explanation? I didn’t think so. It was probably better to cash the cheque and leave. Start over again somewhere.

I blinked back tears and shoved the lid back on the varnish. Dammit, I didn’t want to start again. I was tired of running.

***

I didn’t see Benjamin Easton the following day. The disappointment built in my chest as the day drew on. I tried to concentrate on the project and keep my mind occupied, but as I was just working on the final stages, there wasn’t much to do. I could have finished up by lunchtime, and left my invoice with Mrs. Wicker, but I hung on hoping I might see Benjamin again.

Mrs. Wicker came into the Great Hall to admire my work.

“It’s just beautiful isn’t it?” She gazed up at the mural.

Soft pinks and the plump, dimpled flesh of the cherubs gave the room a warmer feel. It was such a small part of the hall overall, but it made a difference.

“It will look marvellous tomorrow night at the charity function. Mr. Easton said he wanted an uplighter focused on each side of the mural. It will be an impressive sight. Have you got much more to do?”

I shook my head. “Almost finished. I thought I’d take my sandwiches down to the beach below Cliff House while I wait for the last layer to dry.”

Mrs. Wicker’s eyes widened slightly. “It’s a beautiful beach, but watch out for the tide. It can turn in an instant down there. People have been trapped by the tide, so be careful.”

“I will.”

“Benjamin and Colin used to play in the caves when they were little boys. I told them time and time again they were dangerous, but they never listened.”

I smiled. “I suppose little boys enjoy danger.”

I longed to ask Mrs. Wicker more about Benjamin Easton, but I was scared my clumsy questioning might be reported back to him.

“How long have you worked here, Mrs. Wicker?” I asked, sticking to a safe subject.

Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled at me. “It’s coming up to thirty-five years.” She shook her head. “I can hardly believe it has been so long.”

“So you worked for Mr. Easton’s father?”

“Yes, but not for long unfortunately.”

“Oh?”

Mrs. Wicker glanced over her shoulder, probably to make sure Carter wouldn’t catch her gossiping.

“Benjamin’s father died a young man, in a plane crash. So I actually worked first for Benjamin’s grandfather. Then after he died, Benjamin’s father inherited the estate but only for a short time.”

Mrs. Wicker leaned a little closer to me. “I’m not one to gossip, but it’s common knowledge around here that there was a nasty dispute over the inheritance when Benjamin’s grandfather died.”

“Really?” I prompted, intrigued.

“Yes, the old man had two sons. The eldest, Robert was … well, let’s just say he wasn’t very careful with money, so the old man left the estate to his younger son, Benjamin’s father.”

“And that didn’t go down very well with his eldest son,” I said, stating the obvious.

Mrs. Wicker nodded. “No, it didn’t go down well at all. He tried to contest the will and spent a fortune on legal fees, but the court upheld the original will. So the estate went to Benjamin’s father, and after he died, to Benjamin.”

I looked around at the opulent Great Hall. “Cliff House is certainly a prize. It’s a shame they couldn’t have both inherited.”

Mrs. Wicker twisted her lips then said, “Robert Easton couldn’t be trusted. His father was afraid he would gamble away the entire family fortune. He was what we referred to in those days as a high roller. It must have been hard for him though, growing up believing he was going to inherit all this … then to see everything go to his younger brother…”

Mrs. Wicker’s voice trailed off as we both heard footsteps in the Great Hall. I turned to see Carter creeping towards us.

I turned back to Mrs. Wicker, determined to ask one last question before the butler interrupted us. “So Mr. Colin Easton is Robert Easton’s son?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Wicker nodded. “Well, I’d better let you get on,” Mrs. Wicker said, taking a couple of steps away from me.

I scowled at Carter as he approached. I’d been interested in Mrs. Wicker’s story about the Easton family and I wanted to hear more.

“Mrs. Wicker,” Carter said and gave a stiff little bow to the housekeeper. I was surprised his bones didn’t creak.

“Mr. Carter,” Mrs. Wicker said, looking a little flustered. I supposed she was embarrassed at being caught gossiping by Carter. Dammit, now I would never get to hear the rest of the story.

Carter didn’t bother to address me. I was obviously not worth the effort. He looked down his nose at me, disapprovingly, then turned and walked away from us.

Mrs. Wicker followed him, muttering something about needing to make sure the new girl was polishing the silver correctly.

I took my lunch over to the cliff path for one last time. The path was open to the public and ran along the shoreline, behind Cliff House and the other Newport mansions, so I supposed I could come back if I stayed in the area.

I skirted around a patch of thistles, then sat down on the grass-covered bank and munched on my turkey on whole wheat bread, while staring out at the dazzling blue Atlantic.