Carved in Stone: Monochrome Destiny (19 page)

She tasted of
ripe summer fruits, her flavour intoxicating.  He lapped at her with long
strokes before using the very tip of his tongue to circle and rub the nub of
her clitoris knowing that it would be her undoing.  She cried out above
him, her head thrown back in reckless abandon as she neared the edge.  He
held her to him tightly with one hand as he slowly inserted a finger into her
hot wetness and pressed down on the sweet spot within her.  He felt her
inner muscles quiver and one more, long lick drove her over the edge.

Robyn screamed
as her body was hit with a devastating orgasm.  She convulsed as pleasure
waves washed through her, shaking her in Andrew’s strong arms.  His finger
pulsed inside her in unison with her orgasmic contractions and kept the
pleasure riding her as he gently lapped at her sex.  She’d never known an
orgasm like it.  It was endless and bone melting.  When she came
down, she was laid on the bed, Andrew staring down at her.

He
stripped the remaining clothing from his body and Robyn stared, taking him
in.  He was magnificent!  Perfect and lean, Andrew’s body proudly
displayed his engorged cock, long and thick it showed her just how desperately
he wanted to be inside her and Robyn squirmed, rubbing her thighs together.

She
couldn’t think, couldn’t focus as Andrew hovered over her and kissed her
fervently.  She could taste the saltiness of her desire on his lips. 
He was so strong, dominant and powerful and she needed to feel him inside of
her.

Andrew
reached to the bedside cabinet as Robyn lay panting beneath him and covered
himself
before gently parting her legs with his own.

She was utterly
beautiful, laid out before him, ready and willing to be his and he struggled to
hold himself back from just thrusting inside of her to the hilt.  Tensing
every muscle he had, he guided himself to her opening and slowly pushed into
her delicious warmth.  Robyn’s eyes rolled backwards as she let out a low
moan.

Oh God, he felt
so good, stretching her to beyond what she thought she could take.  He was
so rigid and unyielding as he drove inside, deeper and deeper.  How did he
control himself so, when all she wanted to feel was his urgent thrust? 
She knew that’s what his body desired too, but this slow exquisite torture made
her body tremble and her legs feel weak.  She let out a ragged moan of
pleasure in the silent room as the feel of him stretched and filled her
entirely.  She could already feel herself quickening around him, pleasure
already driving her towards another climax.  How could that be?

Andrew stilled, sheathed to the
hilt and allowed Robyn to adjust to the sensation of him filling her.  He
could feel her inner muscles gripping him in desperation but he was determined
not to harm her.  He locked his eyes onto hers and waited before he slowly
pulled back, inching out of her until only his tip remained inside before
plunging in again.

Robyn cried out.
 Her scream echoed off of the walls.  It was the sound of utter
primal pleasure as another wave of orgasm rocked through her.

Every
system, everything, paled to the feeling of Andrew inside her.  It was an
all-encompassing sensation that took over every fibre of her being.  Her
orgasm jettisoned outwards as he moved slowly in and out.  It was white
hot heaven rushing through her body making her clench onto him over and
over.  He kept moving and Robyn kept coming as she bucked and cried out
beneath him.

When
she could think clearly, she found Andrew’s arms and brushed her palms up his
tense muscle.  She let her fingers roam his back, his chest and his
hips.  Every inch of him was corded beneath her touch.  He was still
moving in long slow thrusts but she could feel the tight control that held him
and she wanted him to lose it.  She wanted desperately to snap that
restraint.  As Andrew thrust forwards, Robyn ground her hips up to meet
him and grabbed his hips to hold him tight and guide him into her.  She
did not need the finesse with which he rode her and she intended to show
him.  He pulled back but she guided him back into her with a hard thrust. 
Andrew’s eyes widened and Robyn wrapped her legs around his hips. She wanted
all of him.  She wanted everything.

Did she want him
to completely lose it?  The moment those curvaceous hips had jerked up to
meet his, his cock had threatened to spill, game over.  And now, she’d
wrapped her shapely legs around him, inviting him to drive into her like he
desperately wanted to.  He could no longer retain the slow pleasure-filled
thrusts that he wanted to give her.  His hips jerked forwards, hard,
slamming his cock in deep and Robyn responded with a guttural groan and an
inviting swivel of her hip.  Is this what she wants?  Hell he
couldn’t hold back now.  Andrew pulled back and slammed in again,
frightened that she would think him an uncaring animal but surprised to find
her wanton beneath him instead.  He  pulled out again, quicker this
time before hammering home and Robyn squeezed him tightly against her as she
pushed her head back in delight.  His control snapped.  Andrew
growled, grabbed Robyn’s hands and pushed them down onto the bedding.  He
lunged forwards driving into her and simultaneously taking her lips for a
heated kiss.  As his tongue plundered her mouth, his cock drove in and out
of her with fervour.

Andrew thrust
into her harder, faster, and Robyn felt yet another orgasm building.  She
could feel the burning heat of her core; the power coiling ready to
spring.  The intensity took her up higher and higher.  His body on
top of hers heated her every cell where they touched.  The fire that burned
between them threatened to grow out of control.  Each time he pushed into
her, sheathing himself to the hilt, she felt all of her senses overloading, her
circuits tripping.  Nothing else mattered at that moment.  She could
think of nothing but him; could feel nothing but him; could smell nothing but
him and could see nothing but him.

She
wanted to pull him to her, hold his muscular arms but he had her pinned. 
She couldn’t focus, couldn’t grab onto pleasure, pinned beneath him as she was
and he lifted her higher and higher.  She moaned as she felt her muscles
quicken around him and then one hard thrust and she exploded around him. 
Light flashed across her eyes; reds, oranges, yellows, colours so vivid that
they hurt to see, colours that she hadn’t seen for years, melded into one
another in a phantom firework display.  The wave of absolute pleasure
ricocheted throughout her entire body.  Heat, fiery heat and deep waves of
bliss, indescribable and absolutely ecstatic, shook her body.  Over and
over again her body bucked and shuddered as wave after wonderful wave engulfed
her.  She allowed herself to be totally overcome by the gratification as
the heat pulsed out from her core and the flame licked through her entire
body.  She cried out, yelled as she opened her eyes and watched Andrew
drive into her, producing more and more waves of utter pleasure.  She
knew, without doubt or
fear
, that she would never
recover from this.

Her glorious sex
contracted around him as he drove into her, intending to keep her at the very
edge as she screamed his name.  However, this time he was not in control,
and as Robyn opened her eyes and knew who had her, who had taken her to this
pleasurable peak, he felt his cock buck and finally spill its hot seed deep
within her.  He came hard and long as Robyn’s convulsing sex milked him
dry and then he collapsed onto her, panting and entirely sated.

Andrew woke to
the morning sun.  They had explored and enjoyed each other for most of the
night, tasting, observing, touching until finally, exhausted, they had
slept.  Robyn now lay with her head on Andrew’s chest, enveloped in his
arms.  He knew from her breathing that she was awake.

Moving
slightly, lifting himself up onto one elbow as Robyn let her head fall back
onto the crisp, white pillow, Andrew gazed down at her.

“When
are you going to tell me what happened last night?” He had waited long enough
for his answer.

Robyn’s
smile faded, her body tensed and she drew her knees up, curling into a
ball.  Andrew cursed himself and pulled her into his chest.

“You’re
safe here.  You’re safe, Robyn,” he tried to reassure her but her eyes
darted around the room in panic as if she was seeking escape.

Something
tugged at Andrew’s stomach, something he refused to acknowledge.

Robyn
took a deep, shaky breath and stared at him with glistening eyes.  Jesus,
it hurt him to have put that look there, but he had to know.  She’d been
so afraid last night.  Her body had literally been shaking with fear when
she’d fallen into his arms.  Whatever, or whoever had done this to her,
they were going to pay.

“They
were at the cottage,” she spoke with a forced calm, “at least five of them,
outside on the lawn.” Her voice was almost distant, as if the only way she
could cope with recalling the event was to see it from afar and pretend that
she wasn’t there, that it hadn’t happened to her.

“They?”
Andrew’s arms
tightened around her as his anger began to flare.

“I’m
not sure what they were.  I know it sounds silly now but there was
something . . . not human, about them.”  She drew in a deep breath and
shuddered.  “They were stood absolutely still, like they were statues,
looking at me.”  He brought his hand to her cheek, offering comfort. 
“They were dressed in black . . . with white faces.  I wouldn’t have seen
them if it wasn’t for the faces.”  She stopped and closed her eyes,
tucking her face into his chest.  Christ, he hated to see her like
this.  Robyn was difficult, stubborn and strong.  The fact that she
thought she needed him only angered him further.

“What
about the faces, Robyn?”  He gritted his teeth in an effort to dampen his
fury.  It didn’t work.

“They
didn’t have any.  They had no features at all, just, just, black
eyes.”  She stared up at him, a fragile image of herself, a shell. 
“I was too frightened to stay.  I thought they’d get into the
cottage.  I thought they’d come after me, so I ran.”

“You
ran here.” He brushed her cheekbone.

“All
I could think about was getting out of the cottage but when I got to the car
they were there, on the road,” she swallowed and closed her eyes momentarily
before reopening them on a sigh, “I dropped the keys and they came for
me. 
They.
. . glided . . . across the road and I
couldn’t find the keys.  I thought, I thought . . . . I don’t know. 
I panicked.  I don’t know how I got the car started in time but I just
left.  I couldn’t think of anywhere to go, except here.”

He
held her in silence, his mind churning.  He couldn’t believe that anyone
would go this far.  No, that wasn’t right.  He could believe it.

Anger
morphed into pure fury.

The
time for doing nothing was over.

“Get
dressed,” Andrew got up and threw Robyn’s blouse and jeans onto the bed. 
“We’re going to see someone.”  He was so enraged, that it took all he had
not to smash his fists into the wall as he walked past to grab clothes from the
wardrobe.  When he’d pulled on some jeans he realised that Robyn hadn’t
moved.  He turned to find her in the middle of the bed, the sheet pulled
around her.

“It’s
alright.”  Cursing himself for frightening her, he sat down, placed his
palms on either side of her face and held her gaze and spoke as calmly as he
could manage.  “I’m going to sort this out.  Everything
will
be alright.”

“Andrew
. . . I . . ,” she shook her head, “I can’t be certain that I remember it all
correctly.  When I’m frightened my mind can sometimes . . . embellish.”

She
looked so small.  How could she be so small?  He knew if he stayed in
the bed he’d kiss her, and if he kissed her, he wouldn’t be able to stop there,
not after last night.  Instead he got up and continued to dress. 
“Embellishment aside, something happened and I will get answers.”

Robyn
reached for her blouse.

Tearing down the
country lanes, the engine roaring between quick and frequent gear changes,
Andrew drove into town.  Foot down, eyes locked on the road, his jaw was
set firm and Robyn didn’t dare utter a sound.

Turning
off the high street, they entered a long, walled driveway.  On either side
of the car, six-foot, grey walls swept along and guided the car up to a large,
impressive, Georgian manor house.  Symmetrically fronted around a columned
front door, the four storey grey behemoth stared at them through its white
windows.  It could easily have been austere, foreboding even, but carefully
placed potted shrubs, baskets and window boxes gave it a soul.

The
brakes slammed on and the car skidded to a halt on pale gravel.  In a
heartbeat Andrew was out and circling the car for Robyn.  Opening the
door, he took her hand.

“Don’t worry.” His quiet voice was
inconsistent with the way the words were delivered, forced, angered.  She
knew he was trying to make her believe that he was unruffled.  He was
failing.

Lifting her hand, Andrew kissed the back
of it just once, then entwined his fingers through Robyn’s and helped her out
of the vehicle.

The
great house loomed over them as they approached.  Traversing shallow steps
to the large, oak, front door, Robyn felt out of place, wearing yesterday’s
clothes with her unkempt hair tied in a hasty ponytail.  She stepped
between two columns and under a portico shelter, as Andrew banged on the door
and wondered why they were there.  She said nothing regarding her
reluctance, but stood one pace back from Andrew as they waited for the door to
be answered.

Loud
scraping and clicking noises emanated out from the house.  Large bolts
disengaged and giant locks turned, their sounds muffled by the thick, tight
grain of the oak door.  Slowly, the big, black, ball of a doorknob,
twisted under Robyn’s gaze and the great entrance door swept inwards, to reveal
a short, portly man.  He stood in light coloured trousers with a tight,
dark jumper pulled over his bulging stomach.  Underneath the jumper a
white shirt collar sat tightly beneath his prominent and overflowing
jowl.  He looked at Robyn with small, slate grey eyes, nestled deeply in
his chubby face and fixed underneath bushy, grey eyebrows.  Sporting a
greying moustache and white hair, Robyn guessed his age to be late sixties at
best.  His nose was slightly bulbous at the tip, indicating that, in his
many years, he had enjoyed a good life.  His sharp little eyes looked at
her with surprise and then turned to Andrew. 

“Grandfather,”
Andrew seethed between clenched teeth, “may we come in?”

Andrew
squeezed Robyn’s hand as she watched the man hesitate for a moment before
stepping back to allow them passage.  The tone of Andrew’s voice had not
escaped his attention.

“Andrew,
what a delightful surprise,” The old man gestured dramatically for them to
enter, fooling neither Robyn nor Andrew.  He held a wary gaze on his
grandson, unwilling or unable to divert his focus, but smiled openly. 
“Come through to the drawing room and I’ll get us some coffee.”

Andrew
pulled Robyn into the large ornate hallway.  The tiled floor was designed
in simple black and white and the walls were dark but framed with white,
delicately carved cornicing and picture rails.  A mighty staircase swept
down on their right but Andrew pulled her past it, and through a tall, six
panelled, white, door.

The
room was large, high ceilinged and adorned with several oil paintings of men
and women in period costume.  A large square rug covered an area of the
otherwise highly polished floor, near an immense ornate fireplace with marble
surround.  On either side of the rug were two, very large, saddle
sofas.  Andrew walked Robyn past two, large, glass fronted cabinets,
filled with ornaments and objet d’art and took her to the first of the
sofas.  Agitated and unable to sit himself, Andrew paced back and forth in
front of her.  He held his hands behind him, glared at the floor and
breathed with purposeful, deep breaths.

Robyn
watched Andrew wear a track in the rug as she fidgeted with her fingers and
pondered the strange situation in which she now found herself.  How could
the Lord of this particular manor be Andrew’s grandfather?

The
door opened and the old man walked in with a silver tray. He set it down gently
on a low table placed between the two sofas and ignored Andrew’s pacing. 
Moving steadily, in no hurry to enquire as to the purpose of Andrew’s visit, he
poured coffee before standing up straight.

Robyn
watched in silence and realised she was witnessing a carefully practiced and
sophisticated power struggle.  Andrew’s grandfather was the master of the
house.  His casual manner was purposeful in the wake of Andrew’s
anger.  In a measured way, he was directly opposing the anger that flowed
from Andrew by staying cool, silent and totally in control.   He
stamped out his authority by setting the pace of the meeting and Andrew was no
match for the years of experience that his grandfather possessed.  Pacing
up and down in front of the fireplace, Andrew became increasingly agitated
whilst the old man was the epitome of calm and supremacy.  Only when
Andrew’s grandfather wished it, only when he was ready, did he turn to Andrew
and await his grandson to speak.

Andrew
seethed.  Robyn could see him trying to gain control, trying to match the
grace that his grandfather displayed easily and absolutely, but his emotions
ran too strongly and too close to the surface.  His grandfather took
control.

“Well,”
he turned away from Andrew, “if you’re not going to introduce me then I shall
have to do the honours myself.  James
Truscott,
and you might be?” He held his hand in Robyn’s direction, a warm practised
smile on his face.  She uncurled her fingers from the nervous fists that
they had formed and offered her hand as Andrew finally spoke.

“You
already know who she is.” His teeth were gritted and disdain oozed from every
pore.

“I
can only assume when you refuse to introduce her.” James replied calmly, his
voice steady, but the quick darting look fired at Andrew showed
differently.  The little grey eyes locked onto Andrew for less than a
second but the sentiment, the message that they conveyed, got through
immediately.  Those little eyes delivered scorn and chastisement.  A
master of manipulation, this man’s skills in body language, taught from birth
and gouged out through a lifetime of being in charge, showed gentle subtlety
but forceful stubbornness.  Coupled with immense self-control and a clear
expertise in reading people, Robyn could easily imagine him manoeuvring anybody
to his will.  She suspected that most of the time, those whom he influenced
were entirely unaware of it.

Robyn
found it fascinating to observe James, but the power he held over his grandson
was disturbing, especially knowing how controlled Andrew could be.  Robyn
immediately hid her anxiety.  She sensed that it was inadvisable to show
weakness in front of James.  “Robyn Darrow,” she replied politely.

“So,
you are the new teacher at the school.”

Andrew
sidestepped, putting himself between James and Robyn.  Six inches taller,
leaner, younger, stronger, he should have been intimidating but his grandfather
never showed the slightest concern.  Andrew spoke sharp words through
gritted teeth.  “I need to talk to you.”

“Are
you not talking to me right now?” James remained unruffled.

“In
private,” Andrew hissed.

There
was a moment of silence as they weighed each other up.  Finally James
broke the stalemate and turned to Robyn, “Would you please excuse us.” He took
a step back, gestured for Andrew to accompany him and they both left the
room.  James made sure to pull the door shut behind him and Robyn was
left, alone.  Footsteps faded until she heard the sound of another door
closing.

With
nothing better to do, Robyn walked to the portraits on the wall.

As
the figures wore costumes from different periods, she could tell that the
pictures represented different eras but Robyn didn’t know enough to say
which.  What she could tell, however, was that all the figures were
related.  The men and women had the same small slate grey eyes. 
Their hair, where it still retained colour must have been a mousy brown, from
the tone depicted and most of the men had an overly bulbous long nose. 
The women appeared to have been spared this particular feature but they all had
very strong protruding chins.  Many were overweight and that showed in
there being a little too much flesh on the jowl.   Not only were they
all related to each other, but quite clearly, they were related to James
Truscott.  His family history hung on these walls.  Yet Andrew was
completely different.  His height, eye shade, hair colour, defined,
chiselled facial features.  None matched the gallery on display.