When the Siren Calls (24 page)

“Are you ok?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know whether I can go through with this.” She couldn’t look at him.

“Through with what, Isobel?” He pulled her face to look at his. “It’s just a kiss.”

“But it’s a beginning,” she said, needing him to know what it was, to reassure her that he felt the same.

“If we don’t do anything more, it will still have been a great day,” he said, his eyes growing in an intensity not shared by his voice.

“But one with a disappointing end,” she conceded, her self-loathing clear through her pallid skin.

“What’s holding you back?” he asked, his hand light on her arm.

“I’m sure you can guess,” she said, sadness in her eyes, “a rush of guilt. And fear too. When you’ve been with only one person in twenty years it feels like the first time all over again. And I don’t want to hurt Peter, or put my marriage at risk.” Her body sank into itself as he watched her. “How’s that for a stack of good reasons to get up, get on that horse, and go back?”

“Isobel, if you get back on that horse now I won’t think any more or any less of you.” He stroked her back and pulled her closer. “You will still be a wonderful woman to me. It’s because you’re the person you are that you have those fears.” She stirred as if to get up and Jay pressed his hand on hers, holding her to earth.

“The thing is,” he continued, his voice soft and reassuring, “fear and doubt are perfectly normal feelings. And some people lead a miserable life because they are ruled by fear; always looking back on what they might have done, or wished they had done, but let fear stop them. If you are too scared, if the risk is too high then we can go back now, as friends instead of lovers. But if it helps, anything that happens today is our secret. No one but us need ever know.” Isobel felt herself falling forwards as she gravitated towards his words, which spoke such sense and comfort to her heart. He squeezed her hand in his, and she felt again the security of his protective embrace, the way she remembered it in the souk, how he had taken control in the melee and the feeling it instilled in her, the feeling that she must obey him. “But you have to want to.”

“I do want to.” It was said and she could never go back.

His hand travelled to her blouse and she was powerless to stop it as he kissed her passionately, melting her last defences, which slipped from her as her bra fell to the leaf-strewn floor.

His voice was mellow and soothing, low and beguiling, his words rising and falling, the pace of his speech slowing further as her breathing slowed, as he coaxed her to “just let go.” She heard his words without hearing them, her limbs feeling heavy against the earth, as if she could not lift them. He put his fingers to her eyebrows and dragged them downwards, her eyelids closing in unison; his hand slid to her waist and rested awhile, as if waiting for her breathing to ease, then onwards, into the velvety softness of her French knickers. For an instant she wanted to open her eyes, to clasp his hand in hers and hold it fast. But she could not; if she did then she would have to tell him to stop. And she did not want him to stop, not yet. It was so much easier to lie there, to let her mind follow his enticing words, to let him slip off her riding breeches, to pretend that she was not aware of his tongue, of the sensations travelling up her legs, so much stronger and more intense than they’d ever been before. She knew now that she was not going to stop. She knew that she was going to let Jay do anything he wanted to do to her. Instinctively, she pulled his body towards her own, tugging at his waistband in the heated urgency of all-consuming lust.

She felt a rush of pleasure at his hardness to her touch and whatever fears or misgivings she took into the woods that day were no longer with her. It was she who now took charge, pulling at his belt feverishly and pushing her hands inside his jeans.

He pressed his mouth to her ear, his hotness on her skin pushing her to breaking point.

“Easy, Isobel, there’s no rush, let’s take this slow, ok?”

She could not bear it and pushed her mouth to his until he tasted her breath, until he knew how much her body cried for his.

“Fuck me, Jay. Please. I just need you to fuck me.”Twenty-nine

The pure whiteness of Jay’s bathroom, with its gleaming tiles and snowy, fluffy towels, made Isobel’s head ache. She had shut herself in, seeking solace from his tormenting presence, wanting to lose the aching desire to have him again. She had believed so ardently that once would be enough and yet here she was waiting for him to claim her. The purity of the white hurt her eyes. She had not washed since their lovemaking in the woods and now closed her eyes as she remembered how she groaned in frustration at his last second withdrawal, how she tried to pull him back into her even as his seed spurted onto her thrilling skin. She could still smell his musty odour, the way she smelt him when she wiped her fingers across her belly and furtively brought them to her nostrils. She had wanted to taste him, but was afraid he would notice even as he lay beside her, his eyes closed and body spent.

As she stood in the white, alone with her thoughts, the fear that had gripped her in the woods subsided and a shiver went down her spine; want trembled within her like a bird, hitting her with its feathers until she burnt for his touch. She let her clothes fall to the floor and stood naked of all but her wedding ring. She tugged it off and looked again at her reflection; she expected satisfaction but it was now too bare, too exposed and she crammed the ring back on, her knuckle aflame with red as she hid deep in a towel.

Three gentle taps at the door pulled her from herself and she braced her body against the sink’s edge as it swung open. Jay entered with a swaggering confidence. He was naked, and fully erect; Isobel cowered in anticipation as he strode towards her. He reached out and grasped the towel, pulling her to him as she clutched it, and tearing it from her. His mouth was on hers and he kissed her hungrily as she felt him against her. She pressed the hardness of her nipples into his chest, needing him to feel her pleasure and to know that she was unquestioningly his. He was stiff with passion against her and pulled his mouth away to look into her eyes. It seemed to Isobel that at the moment he saw everything and she craved his reciprocation.

“You didn’t come this afternoon, did you?” he murmured in her ear.

She shook her head into his flesh like a child. “Are you disappointed?”

“Was it my fault?” he asked in return, his eyes penetrating hers, strong and inquisitive.

Isobel looked back into them, scared of his strength and his confidence.

“I was nervous,” she whispered, hoping to satisfy him as she yearned for him to satisfy her. His hand went between her thighs and he shuddered at her heat and her wetness.

“Do you usually come?”

“Please, Jay,” she protested, terrified of the growing numbness of recent years, at her blind and docile acceptance of mundanity. She pressed her hands onto his, pushing his fingers inside her.

He lifted up her chin and spoke into her neck, etching each word into her skin with his lips. “Just promise that you won’t ever fake it for me.”

“I promise.”

He kissed her with satisfaction, his hands drifting up to her shoulders as she fell into him, giving herself entirely.

She felt the pressure of his strong hands on her shoulders, encouraging her downwards, urging her downwards, forcing her downwards, and she dropped to her knees in obedience before him, trailing her tongue down his torso as she descended, knowing what he wanted, and knowing that she was powerless to deny him.

She rubbed his member against her cheeks, seeking him out with her tongue, before taking him into her mouth. He pulled her to her feet and kissed her, tasting them both, and his hands went to the back of her trembling thighs. He pressed her hard against the wall, pushing her up the shining whiteness of the tiles and lowering her onto him. She locked her ankles behind his back as she tensed around him, the coldness of the wall and the electricity of his skin convulsing her body with pleasure.

He carried her to the bed and laid her down upon it and stood at her feet. She quivered as he feasted his eyes on her nakedness, seeming to sense the aching between her legs from the imploring, pleading look in her eyes. She felt a craven, wanton desire to have him take her, and pulled her knees upwards towards her body, letting them fall wide apart, exposing her full sex to his gaze.

He approached her from the foot of the bed, inching forward on his knees. She felt the brush of his evening stubble first on one thigh, then the other. She closed her eyes and lay back, waiting for him to find her. He ran his tongue up her thighs, but his mouth passed the burning centre of her desire, until she felt it on her midriff, licking slow circles around her belly button, before continuing to mark its trail upwards towards her nipples. She could bear it no longer and now her hands went to his shoulders. She forced the heels of her hands into him, feeling his resistance, then feeling it ebb as he moved lower. She quivered as he rubbed into her with the hard part of his nose, seeking out her most sensitive spot, before his tongue found her wetness. She pulled his head into her, wrapping her legs over his shoulders, wanting his mouth to devour her. As she felt the shudder of orgasm she was oblivious to the low cries of ecstasy crossing her lips, but he heard them and he knew her, he knew all her weaknesses.Thirty

Andy leant back in his seat with pointed disdain as Jay strode theatrically into the meeting and thumped his files down on the table with exaggerated authority, beaming around him at the faces transfixed by his aura. Andy allowed himself a slight sigh of anticipated derision and watched Jay assume his seat at the side of the table, following his movements with narrowed eyes and folded arms, sure this time that he knew the man behind the mask. Still, he couldn’t deny his adversary had style; his presence and charisma made the men and women around the table — sharp suited lawyers and accountants alongside soberly clad Capadelli employees — seem dull and lifeless. The only other light in the room was Gina, resplendent and virginal in her flowing summer dress, a white swan amongst grey geese, glowing with soft and tactile beauty against the stone of Il Paradiso’s private dining room.

The occasion was the grandly titled board meeting of Tyneside Holdings, the umbrella under which Jay created the bewildering web of companies in which Andy was now enmeshed, if not fully ensnared. The quiet, almost reverent, atmosphere made him uneasy; he felt as if he could almost feel the spiders circling around him as one by one the faces at the table acknowledged Jay with warm smiles and meaningful eyes.

“We are all waiting for you,” said Andy with deliberate gravity, tapping his fingers against the table as Jay circled the room to reach his seat. Andy watched him stop to greet Gina and for a split second allowed his hawk-like gaze to falter as she rose to pass him his notes and her lithe form cut through the air, filling his nostrils with her perfume.

Jay placed down his papers and marched to the front of the room, the sound of his heavy footsteps on the dark red terracotta floor tiles echoing around the room and ascending to its whitewashed vaulted ceiling, as he marched to the front, a picture of cool confidence.

“Just checking the connections,” said Jay with a smile as the presentation screen refused to turn on. Andy fidgeted with agitation in his seat, his finger tapping reverberating like drumbeats as a tangle of nerves obscured his senses; he needed to be in control and this was not a good way to start. But as weakness began to needle in his bones, the screen flashed on, illuminating the room with an image of the bikini-clad beauty that was Jay’s screensaver.

“I was worried there for a second,” said Andy, surreptitiously wiping the sheen of sweat from his brow, “that we hadn’t paid the electricity bill.”

Jay ignored the slight and busied himself with nonchalantly arranging the onscreen information. Andy took up his drumming again, frustrated that his adversary could be so calm and unflustered in the face of his insistence that this meeting would be Andy’s, not the usual stage-managed affair that Jay relied on.

Andy’s eyes strayed once more to Gina as she swung her long brown legs playfully beneath her and deliberately caught his eye, her low cut dress revealing the roundness of her breasts above her notebook as she sucked her pen and peeked over at Jay’s notes. Andy’s eyes lingered as she reached down to her bag, the light cotton falling forward and allowing him to steal a tantalising glimpse of her dark brown nipples.

Only necessity drew his eyes away as Jay finally stood to address the room, kicking off the formal part of the meeting with a summary of the status of the business, confident and upbeat with a flintiness in his eye that forbade any contradiction from his followers.

“The past has been difficult and challenging as we all know,” he began, “but I truly believe that we have reached a tipping point. As recently as a month ago I was concerned that our venture here in Tuscany might be at risk. Today, I am delighted to report that this last week we have turned the corner; timeshare membership sales are ahead of plan. Even more gratifying, this last week we have taken record enquiries for new apartment sales. By the end of today I expect to be able to confirm additional sales, including the sale of the Visconti suite.”

Andy listened intently, the edge of Gina’s hand brushing against his arm and his senses.

“I know one or two in the room might have thought it impossible to sell the Visconti suite at the price point we have set,” Jay continued, looking pointedly at Andy. “That we are able to do so, and may I add at full list price, is tremendous validation of our business strategies.”