Refracted Crystal: Diamonds and Desire (24 page)

Kris didn’t even need to touch him, nor to be touched by him, to begin cumming.

He was utterly silent now, watching her intently, one arm lifted up behind his head, the bicep thickening and taut. With his other hand he stroked himself, displaying himself for her. His eyes were hooded with desire and he said nothing—there was no need to speak. Everything about him—his posture, his gaze, his intent expression on her—said, “This is yours. All of it.”

She reached down with nimble fingers and pulled up her dress, lifting up the light, cotton fabric over her shoulders and head with one easy gesture. Beneath, she wore no bra and her breasts, heavier now than they had ever been, more sensitive, bounced down, her nipples stiff and erect. Her hair, so thick and lustrous, hung in ringlets over her shoulders, and her hips, wide and fertile, swayed slightly as she moved towards him.

The pale fabric of her knickers was sodden, almost transparent so that her labia were clearly visible in the patch of liquid cloth at the front. Leaving his cock as she stretched her own fingers around it, squeezing him, savouring his hardness, he moved his hand to between her legs, sliding fingers along her sex, pressing into her.

Using both hands now, he lifted himself up slightly from the bed and hooked a finger from each hand into the elastic at either side of her hips. When he pulled, for a few seconds the stretching fabric dug into her flesh, hurt her, and when the cotton snapped and tore she gasped, her body thrilling with a rippling deep inside her.

Now it was her turn. Completely naked, her breasts so swollen, so firm and sensitive as they swayed from side to side slightly, she leaned forward as she held onto his erection, gripping it as though it would have to be torn from her grasp. Lifting one knee onto the bed, she pushed him back with her other hand and he reclined gracefully, raising both of his hands now to those luscious breasts, squeezing them more gently than she grappled with him, showing her tender consideration even as she brutalised him with her small fist.

There was no foreplay, no gentle prelude to their lovemaking. He was harder than she had ever seen him, and she was so desperate for him that when she positioned her hips above him, pressed the thick, smooth head of him against her lips, pushed herself down, her lubricated sex opened for him instantly.

Again she climaxed, her head falling back, neck arched and her breasts rising, swelling more than she thought possible in his hands. Recognising her desperation, feeling it matched by his own, he was more vicious with her now, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her until the skin went white around her nipples.

When the inside of her head ceased flashing, when she became used once more to that incredible stiffness, that unbelievable hardness inside her rippling, velvet walls, she dropped her face towards his, her mouth hovering bare inches above his. Her buttocks began to rotate and sway, forcing herself down onto him, harder.

He held onto her head, his hands holding her tightly as he looked directly into her eyes, sucking in her soul. She lifted up her abdomen, her curving, filling abdomen, and then forced herself down again. Rising and falling, she felt her thighs trembling, her sex slippery along his shaft. At last she began to speak, incoherent cries and pleas, supplications for mercy even though she desired no mercy.

Their fucking was brutal, animalistic. His tenderness for her pregnancy did not prevent him filling her completely, and when she rolled to the side he placed his hand over her mouth, fingers sliding between her lips so that she could suck him down, bite him hard as he penetrated her. Her thighs were pressed together, and once again she was so slick with her own juices, her body melting in the sticky, cloying atmosphere of that bare, motel room, that he entered her with a force that made her scream at last.

She did not know how many orgasms she had, was barely aware of anything any more other than the painful pleasure in her breasts, the burning intensity between her legs. At last she felt him collapse behind her, unable to continue, and she too moved from the burning white flashing inside her skull towards the soft, warm, comforting zone of sleeping darkness.

When she awoke, the light was slowly filtering through the blinds across the window. It was still early, and Daniel lay next to her in the bed. He had not shaved since she had picked him up from jail, and his jaw was stubbling with the growth of several days. In some ways, thought Kris, this was fitting: when she had first met Daniel Logan he wore a beard that had disappeared with his transformation into Daniel Stone.

This would be their second day back in Lisbon, their fifth day together since she had collected him from San Francisco County Jail. For the rest of that first day, they had not moved from the bed in the motel apart from when they had continued their lovemaking in the bathroom, soaping each other’s bodies and fucking each other like animals. Their hunger had turned that tawdry room, that meagre bed, into a divine bower of bliss, and when she had told Daniel of this he had surprised her with words from John Donne: “And now good-morrow to our waking souls, which watch not one another out of fear; for love, all love of other sights controls, and makes one little room an everywhere.”

It was with some reluctance that they left that little everywhere the next morning and drove the four hundred miles from San Francisco to Las Vegas. Daniel had been relentless and, to Kris’s amazement, he had shared the driving with her. Although a little nervous at first, and somewhat rusty, he surprised both himself and her by taking the wheel admitting the task was made easier by the fact that this was an automatic.

“I think this is the first time I’ve driven since I was at Comrie: I’m sure that makes you feel even more secure,” he had joked grimly, “but we need to make a move and I can’t expect you to drive the entire way.”

In general, however, Kris felt safer when she was behind the wheel—and they were also able to make faster time when she took control, Daniel betraying the nervousness of an over-cautious driver. Nonetheless, he also demonstrated a determination about himself that went beyond anything she had known before, a quiet confidence that sent a thrill through her abdomen.

“You’re probably wondering about the passport,” he said. “I’m sure Elaine would have told you all about it.”

“Most of it,” Kris admitted. “Well, I know your real name is Logan, but she didn’t tell me where that passport had come from. It’s not legal, is it.”

He shook his head. “Not entirely.”

“Where did it come from, and why do you have it?”

“Where it came from isn’t really important. With the right amount of money, such things are fairly easy to find. As to why I have it... A few years ago it struck me that I might require some additional security. My dealings with people like Felix and Max were starting to expose me in ways I wasn’t entirely comfortable with. Actually, I’ve never had cause to use it but now I don’t really want some people to know what I’m doing, where I’m going.”

“Won’t those people be able to trace me?”

He nodded. “If they want. But I don’t think they’re really looking for you. Forgive me for saying this, but they’ve only ever been interested in you insofar as they can use you to get to me.” He shook his head at this and then grinned. “That’s been their biggest mistake. You’re my secret weapon.”

“Oh, how so?”

“If nothing else, you give me the determination to carry on—long after I would have given up on my own. You make me stronger than them.”

Kris frowned at this and said nothing. “Did I say something wrong?” he asked, suddenly worried.

“There’s just one thing I have to know,” she told him, considering her words carefully. “Our marriage... is it legal, or was it a sham?”

The look of shock in his eyes was her immediate reply, testimony to the fact that whatever stratagems he was planning, this deception of her was not one of them. She couldn’t help but smile at this, and his reply.

“No. Never. Legally, I’m Daniel Stone. As for my other identity, only two people in the whole world know this now.”

“A shame,” she teased him. “I wondered for a moment whether I was going to be a secret bigamist. The thought of two Daniels, Stone
and
Logan.” Despite herself, she started to become damp between her legs again, biting her lip slightly as he laughed. To take her mind off the filthy fantasy that was suddenly erupting in her mind, she continued: “Was part of your security the bank number on that encrypted drive?”

He nodded. “Yes, it’s not much—a couple of million, I think.” She scoffed at his easy dismissal of what would have been a fortune to her a year before. “I don’t want to touch it till we leave the States, though. It could be traced. That means we’ll have to rely on your money till we get back to Europe.”

She raised an eyebrow at this. “It’s a good job you’re so generous then.”

And indeed, his desire to cover his tracks was circuitous. He admitted with some nervousness that using his Logan passport was untried and untested, and he didn’t want to fly out of one of the major airports where security would be particularly tight. From Vegas they would take an internal flight to Ohio, where he had checked via Armstrong that they would be able to fly directly to Lisbon. Again, he had told her, flights to London tended to attract greater security attention, so their safest bet was to fly to Portugal first and then head back to London.

Which was why she woke up for the second morning in Alfama. She looked down at his sleeping face, so peaceful beside her in bed, his scars gentle traces across his face, the hairs of his eyebrows dark and rich, the thin sprinkling of grey at his temples a sign of his maturity. One of his arms was above the covers, the bicep thick though relaxed, his hand strong and secure as it rested lightly on her own naked shoulder.

She had convinced him to rest for one day in Lisbon before they returned to London, to recover from their madcap dash across the United States and to stand some chance of getting over their jet lag. She knew, however, that this would be the day he had to travel to London. He had explained as they drove and flew: Maximilian had made him an offer, ridiculously low, for his stake in Stone Enterprises. He had refused, but Nathan Armstrong had informed him that the board of the company was meeting to throw him off the executive: his arrest and imprisonment, it appeared, was creating waves among the other board members, though Daniel himself was sure that Felix was stirring up trouble behind the scenes.

At last Kris had to move, lift herself from the bed so that she could go to the toilet. Sliding her body from beneath Daniel’s arm, she slipped from the bed and went through to the bathroom, enjoying the clear sunlight as it entered the flat. Her body seemed to be changing almost daily now, the curve of her abdomen extending outwards in subtle ways. Amongst all the strange things that were occurring to her, another was that she never for a moment considered herself unattractive to Daniel. That he was here with her, that he dared so much for her and she for him, gave her renewed confidence in herself.

By the time she returned to the bedroom, he was awake. She slid back into bed and kissed him, pressing her body—cooler now—against his masculine warmth. Smiling, he cupped his hands to her face, drawing her nearer, and when he penetrated her gently, she gasped with desire, holding him to her and the life that beat inside her womb.

Today their lovemaking was brief: he had to prepare himself—she had to prepare herself. As he returned from the bathroom, however, still naked and gorgeous, those muscles of his iron hard from his exercise while in jail, he paused by her study. Seeing him enter, she came through from the bathroom, a large, baggy T-shirt covering her increasingly maternal figure.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, thinking that he might have come through to look at any work she might have done. Instead, he was standing at the window, looking out.

“I was wondering whether you could see Chiado Shipping from here.”

She frowned at this. “No, it’s a bit too far up the estuary. Why?”

He turned and smiled at her, a little sadly she thought.

“My difficulties didn’t begin with Chiado, but they became clearer there.” She came behind him, placing one hand on his shoulder, then her cheek, pressing her face into his warmth.

“Do you know what I do? How Stone Enterprises makes money?” She kissed him, not replying. She probably knew more than he was aware of, but she also realised that such acts of confession were important to him.

“You probably think that the story about my real name is a bigger betrayal,” he said, looking out of the window towards the river. “But you knew more about that than just about anyone before you even knew a single thing about Daniel Stone. Or Stone Enterprises. And that’s what I’m most guilty about.”

He was silent for a few minutes, and when she looked up she could see his jaw clenching and unclenching. “I’ve told you before that we... restructure companies. Provide consultancy and services. That’s a nice euphemism for what I do—what I did. I was a corporate raider: if a company was ripe for takeover, we’d load up on debt, make a hostile bid, then leverage even further loans on the company once we’d acquired it. Workforce, R&D, dividends—all of it could go to hell so long as the bottom line of Stone Enterprises showed a healthy increase year after year.”

He gave a deep sigh. “I could blame it all on Felix, on Max—certainly they refined my skills, pushed me further, harder. But the truth was I had a skill for it, a natural talent Max once told me.” He shook his head. “Do you remember Hardy, Briskin and Sorrell?”