Carrot and Coriander (11 page)

Rachel didn’t answer at first, and this time he didn’t press her. Then, at last, “It hurt, but not that much. And I felt sort of odd. Did I pass out?”

“No, but you were maybe hovering near sub-space for a while. I wasn’t sure, thought perhaps…”

“What’s sub-space?”

“Something a bit like a trance. Not all submissives experience it but some do. It’s caused by a rush of endorphins in your body. I’m told it’s very nice.”

“I, yes, yes, I think it is. Probably.”

“So, you’d do this again?”

“I would. Can we use the crop yet?”

“I think not, greedy little sub. You’ll have to wait for that. But if you want to lie down, on your back, I’ll treat you to some more attention with the flogger.”

“On my back?”

“Yeah, seems a pity to waste these gorgeous swollen nipples of yours. Very sensitive, I should imagine. Perfect.”

“I’m not sure. What are you going to do?”

“Well, I could start by blindfolding you and tying you up, but I’d prefer you to just lie still if you would. Trust me, you’ll love this.”

Clearly not convinced Rachel started to protest again.

He silenced her with a finger across her lips. “Do you trust me, Rachel?”

Her eyes wide, still nervous, she nodded. He removed his finger from her mouth, and dropped a light kiss there in its place. “Good. So close your eyes. Lie still. And enjoy.”

It took all Rachel’s willpower to obey him this time, but she managed to squeeze her eyelids shut and keep them that way as his weight shifted from the bed. She was aware of him standing beside her, could feel his eyes on her.

“Would you open your legs for me? Just a little will be fine.” His tone was soft, gentle. Still the Dom, but playing nice now.

Rachel did as he’d asked, amused to realize she felt far less nervous about the prospect of his flogger on her pussy than on her nipples. She wondered why, surely both would hurt.

Apparently not. Rachel gasped in amazement as the lightest of caresses swept slowly across her breasts, the soft fronds of the flogger trailing around her swollen nipples. She shivered—the sensation was so exquisite, and at the same time incredibly intense. Her fists, which had been clenched tightly, maintaining a death grip on the duvet beneath her, slowly opened and her hands relaxed as he repeated the feather-like stroking across her sensitive skin. It was like a kiss, almost reverent, a form of worship.

Rachel sighed, arching into the sensation.

“Is that good, my sexy little sub?”

“Yes.” Rachel whispered, fearful of breaking the sensual spell, of somehow fracturing the delicate web of sensation and passion he was skillfully weaving.

“How good? Tell me.” His tone was still soft, but insistent.

“Fabulously good. Incredible. It feels…perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

“And this?” He slipped the suede strands between her legs, drawing them slowly across the lips of her pussy and around her throbbing clit.

Rachel screamed. Actually screamed her passion as the depth of sensation hit her, overwhelmed her. The combination of whisper-light touch, and the knowledge of what else he could do with that same instrument created the heady cocktail of mental as well as physical stimulation. Rachel knew what he was doing to her, even understood the psychology of it, up to a point. Understood the contrast and conflict that gave this thing its edginess. She could intellectualize it, if only he’d stop long enough to let her think.

Not a chance. Callum knew he had her, and intended to make this demonstration a memorable one. He’d fuck her eventually, but not before he’d wound his web of desire and lust around her so tight she’d never be free of it, never be free of wanting this, wanting more. Wanting him.

For long, tortuous, tantalizing minutes he continued to arouse and tease, trailing his flogger across her breasts, twisting the suede strand around her nipples, tightening and releasing, tickling, occasionally flicking to create a short, sharp sting, loving the small whimpers of pain, then immediately caressing back to quivering, desperate arousal. He alternated between her breasts, her pussy, her nipples and her clit, seemingly unable to decide which seemed to please—or torment—her the most. Her breasts, he finally decided. How interesting…

Rachel’s frenzied whisper interrupted him. He wasn’t surprised, knew she was at the limits of what she could take. “Please, I need…”

Callum leaned in close to murmur in her ear, “What? Would you like me to fuck you now?”

Rachel turned her face to him, her eyes still squeezed tight shut. He laid his lips over hers, using his tongue to stroke the seam between her lips, demanding she let him in. She opened, he plunged his tongue deep, tasting, testing, tangling with hers.

The flogger apparently forgotten now, Rachel rolled over, clambering on top of Callum, tugging at the fastening on his jeans. She muttered something vaguely indignant, taking issue with the fact that he was still fully dressed. He smiled to himself as she wrestled with his jeans, quietly satisfied that he’d been able to make her totally unravel God knew how many times this morning, and he’d not so much as slipped a button open. It seemed though that she intended to change that now.

And Callum let her. He lay still as she fumbled with the button and zip on his jeans, lifting his hips helpfully as she eventually managed to tug them down. He kicked them off, his boxer shorts as well, glad he’d had the presence of mind to leave his shoes downstairs, while she dragged his white T-shirt over his head. It seemed to take forever, but in reality they must have both been naked in seconds, then she climbed up to straddle him. Apparently desperate to move matters on, Rachel reached down to position him at her entrance.

“Ms Saunders, haven’t you forgotten something?”

Rachel glanced up as he held the foil packet between his fingers, glad he’d had the presence of mind to grab it from his jeans pocket before they were discarded onto the floor. With a noise more akin to a growl than anything else Callum could quite put his finger on, Rachel grabbed the condom and split the foil covering. She unrolled it quickly down the length of his shaft, pausing just for a moment to admire her handiwork perhaps, before she sank gratefully onto him.

His cock slid deep, filling her to the hilt, and Rachel cried out again. He’d never been one to go in for comparison games in the school changing rooms, initial impressions could be so deceptive in any case, but Callum knew he was not small. Her body must have stretched to accommodate him. He was wide, and long, and balls-deep inside her. For a few moments she didn’t move, just held herself perfectly still. Callum knew better than to rush her now. He waited patiently for the earth to tilt back onto its axis. It did, and mercifully she must have thought so too because she started to move. Slowly, much too slowly in Callum’s view, but he let her set the pace. At first. Soon though, he was picking it up. She’d had her fun, and a fuck of a lot of it. Now, he got his.

Holding her in place, he rolled and took her with him. She landed underneath, and he took control. His thrusts were long, hard, deep. He pumped his cock in and out of her like a piston, pounding her. And she urged him on, her frantic pleas begging him for more, for harder, for faster. And he gave her what she wanted, what he wanted, what they both needed. This was fucking, raw, earthy, animalistic. He was done with finesse, with teasing and arousing. This was fucking, crude, simple, and totally, totally effective.

His cock pounding against her cervix, Callum came hard, his semen hot and wet, filling the latex enclosing it. Moments later Rachel’s orgasm clenched and convulsed around him. They clung to each other, sharing every shattering, mind-numbing wave of utter delight until, exhausted, he collapsed alongside her.

There was no gardening done that day. And no accounts.

Chapter Ten

It was probably a month or so since she’d first embarked on this voyage of erotic self-discovery when as normal Rachel dropped Jacob off at the minder’s early one morning. She had more shopping to do. La Senza, probably, and maybe make a hair appointment too. She smiled as she bundled her little boy through the door into the cluttered space the minder laughingly called a living room. A lone parent and career child minder, every inch of Caroline’s space was given over to children and child-centered things. Mirrors at toddler’s eye level, tiny coat hooks three feet from the floor, mini-furniture in bright primary colors arranged in a circle in the middle of the room, brightly patterned plastic cereal bowls already laid out. Caroline liked the children to all have breakfast together, so Jacob didn’t usually have anything to eat before leaving home.

Wrestling him out of his little jacket, Rachel exchanged small talk with Caroline. Theirs was a business relationship, but they were friends too, and Caroline liked to chat. So did Rachel usually, but today she was in a hurry. She could do with getting home, maybe even get a bit of work done before Callum arrived. She wouldn’t get much done afterwards.

She was halfway out of the door, her head already brimming with delicious images of sexy, tattooed male beauty, maybe even awaiting her by the time she got home—bugger the work—when Caroline’s friendly chatter stopped her.

“By that way, you didn’t get in touch with that gardener did you? The one who I told you about, who chopped up some logs for my Uncle Bill?”

“I… Why do you ask?” Rachel turned, her senses attuned. Caroline wasn’t looking at her. She was busily occupied pouring healthy crunchy stuff into little bowls, seemed unaware of the reaction behind her as all Rachel’s instincts went onto red alert.

“Oh, it’s nothing really. It’s just that he can’t be trusted. Found out he’s done time. Drugs or something. Not been out of Armley long. Seems someone at school had a lad who was on the same wing or something. Pity, he looked so nice. Very nice, if you get my drift.” Her answer was casual, flung loosely over her shoulder, unaware of the Exocet she was unleashing on Rachel’s world.

She glanced up at last, and was able to see that Rachel did indeed get her drift. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Hey, he’s not been bothering you has he? That sort never know when to…”

Rachel’s face flushed scarlet, and knew she needed to get out of there. Fast. “No, no, he’s not been bothering me. Nothing like that. I just remembered I have, I have…a doctor’s appointment. Need to be off. Sorry, sorry…”

“Oh, right, fine then. See you later…”

The last word was muffled as Rachel pulled the door closed behind her. She scurried down the path to her car. She got in, locked the doors. And just sat.

And sat. And sat some more. She was still sitting there nearly three quarters of an hour later when Caroline started to herd her little brood out for the school run. Rachel started her engine, and drove off. But only as far as the next street, where she parked up and sat some more. Thinking. Turning over in her head who the real Callum was. What he was. And what that made her.

It made her a fool, first and foremost. A gullible fool who’d fallen for a pretty face and a sexy body, and a few suggestive words. More than a few, in truth. And some shit hot sex. She’d thought her age, and his, might have been a problem. How wrong could she be? The age difference was neither here nor there. The problem was that he was a liar, a thief, a drug dealer—or worse—and an ex-con. He might… He might… Well, he might anything—and with a three-year-old son to think of she shouldn’t take risks. Absolutely shouldn’t. Couldn’t.

She drew in a deep breath, closed her eyes as she laid her head back on the headrest. Her mind was made up. She knew what she had to do.

Chapter Eleven

“How long have you been a gardener?”

Rachel sat at her pine table, her shaking hands wrapped determinedly around a mug of tea—tea that Callum had brewed for her when he’d seen her car pull in behind his van. He’d been waiting for her in her kitchen, ready to greet her with a sexy smile and some piping hot Earl Gray. What could be nicer?

What indeed? A man who’s honest, transparent and trustworthy for a start. Rachel waited for his response as he poured his own tea, helped himself to sugar.

“A while. Why? Are you doubting my credentials?” His eyes twinkled, promising fun and discovery later as he demonstrated his ‘credentials’ for her.

Rachel dropped her gaze, studied her tea as she repeated the question, “How long? And what did you do before?”

“Well, I’m only twenty-two, as you seem to keep finding it necessary to point out, so my career history isn’t exactly extensive. I’ve always liked gardening, planting, that sort of thing. Why the sudden interest?”

“What else have you done? You started this, this—business—of yours a few weeks ago. What did you do before?”

Sitting at the table, at right angles to Rachel, he set down his mug of tea. “What is it you
actually
want to know, Rachel? Where’s all this headed?” His tone had hardened, his expression now one of irritation.

Rachel refused to look up. Her gaze locked on her drink, her tone dead, she pressed on, “Where were you, this time last year?”

The silence stretched. He didn’t answer her. Rachel gripped her mug, determined not to back off now. She had to know, had to understand. Couldn’t—would never understand…

At last, “I think you know where I was. Otherwise you wouldn’t be asking.”

“But I
am
asking. Where, Callum?”

He sighed, then, “I was in prison. Armley jail.”

“Why? What did you do?”

“I stole cars. A lot of cars. I got eighteen months, but was out in just under a year. Satisfied now?”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why keep it a secret?”

He leaned back, his chin tilted up as he stared at the ceiling. “Hell, Rachel, it was hardly my finest hour. And honestly, it never occurred to me. It just never came up. I was simply here doing some work for you, casual work, just a few days. Then you invited me in, we soon, well, things moved on fast. And I honestly never gave it a thought.”

Rachel glared at him bitterly. “I don’t believe that. How could you ‘not think about it’? You must have known how I’d feel, how I’d react!”