Destroy Me (8 page)

She felt no reason why she should bring Damien’s name into the conversation. It did not feel right, as though speaking for him in his absence.

The man pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down, presumptuously inviting himself.

She was in a difficult position. She was a guest in their exclusive Club and he was one of the members. She felt her options were limited, and perhaps ordinarily she would have been happy to talk with him, but something in his manner disturbed her, the look in his eyes holding the implication that there was more to this than a casual conversation.

“I’m Marc Chambers, of  Beaumont Security.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. And you are?”

“Tara.”

She wished now that she had brought her laptop with her; she could at least have pretended to be doing some work.

The barman brought two glasses of champagne over to them. Tara didn’t have the ill–manner to refuse it, yet the situation felt inappropriate when she had already told him she was waiting for someone.

After taking a few sips, she said, “I appreciate the drink but I really should go.”

Her lack of foresight; her presumption that Damien would just show up after days of silence, led her only to the conclusion that she had put herself in this position. She felt angry that it seemed he probably wasn’t coming now, that he had stood her up without a thought; that he had discarded her after his callous game with her.

The man sitting opposite her had an imposing figure, as did most of the men in the Club; their backgrounds in the Military seemed to have honed their bodies into remarkably fit physiques. Regardless of the wide range of their ages, they all looked in good shape.

She picked up the glass and took another sip, her vengeful thoughts toward Damien perhaps fuelling her action. He was an extremely attractive man, why shouldn’t she drink with him? And yet, whilst she thought this, it was Damien she craved, not this man.

“Obviously you’re English. I love the accent. London has some great history. I’ve been over there many times. The architecture is exquisite. What brings you to D.C?”

“Just visiting a friend.”

She felt the need to be purposely vague.

“Have you been to The Smithsonian?”

“The museum? No, I haven’t.”
“You should go. It has some treasures you might like to see.”

“Ok.”

“I’d be happy to show you around and there’s a fine restaurant nearby; it’s very popular.”

She smiled at him. “That’s really very kind of you, but I won’t be in Washington very much longer; I am due to return to London in a couple of days.”

“Then we should make the most of it before your departure.”

The implication from the tone of his voice was obvious. Tara knew it was time to leave.

“I really should go now.”

She was already standing, pushing back her chair as he rose quickly to assist her.

Standing too close to her now, she moved aside. “Thank you for the drink, but there is something I need to see to. I’ve got to go I’m afraid.”

“I’ll drive you; we can’t have you walking around on your own at this time of night.”

There was a fixed determination in his eyes.

She hadn’t anticipated this. “No, it’s fine, thank you, really, it’s not far at all, and the Metro is so close.”

As she walked away from him, she typed a txt to Damien.

‘Call me.’

Perhaps he was just running late; he’d been late the first time they had met. If he did come, she wanted him to know she had left, that she could come back.

She passed through the entrance doors and went down the steps. It was dark outside now. She heard the footsteps behind her.

“Tara, my car is here, on the left.”

She heard the beep of an alarm and turned to see the car, a Ferrari. It was a nice car, but she had no intention of getting in.

“Get in Tara.”

What was it with the men in this place? Did none of them ever take no for an answer? She stood still, annoyed at the man’s persistence.
“I’m spoken for Marc. It’s really not appropriate.”
“I’m merely offering you a lift. You don’t seem to appreciate how dangerous this City can be, particularly at night. It’s pointless to put yourself at risk when I’m on my way out now anyway. It’s no trouble to drive you.”
He had a point. Yes, he had been chatting her up, but, unlike Damien, he hadn’t dragged her off and sexually assaulted her, so he was behaving far more gentlemanly, although he had now moved in front of her to block her path. Another arrogant rich alpha male. It seemed that was the speciality here at this Club.

She couldn’t see what else she could do short of kicking him. Damien wasn’t calling her back; he obviously didn’t care. Hell, why not enjoy the ride.

He steered her to the passenger side. “In you get.”

She got in and he started up the car; the hum of the engine so distinctive.

“I’m up by Pennsylvania Avenue.”

“Ok.”

He drove in silence, which surprised her but she didn’t try to encourage conversation with him.

It was not a long drive, only a few blocks away.

As they reached Pennsylvania Avenue, he turned off into a side street before she had the chance to tell him where to go. To her utter astonishment, he drove straight up to the three storey house her ground floor apartment was situated in.

“I didn’t tell you where I lived!”

“I know.”

Baffled, she sat as he came around to open her door for her. This was peculiar. He was standing too close to her, giving her little room to get out of the car without coming into contact with his chest.

“Enjoy your evening Tara. And be careful.”

The expression on his face was unreadable but she didn’t like it.

He moved aside to let her pass by him.

Fishing frantically in her handbag for her keys, she walked hurriedly up the short path to the front door of the house, quickly letting herself in. She didn’t turn back around. Stepping inside quickly, she leant against the door as her heartbeat thudded. There had been menace in his voice as he had spoken. She hadn’t imagined it. He had issued her with some kind of warning; a threat. How the hell had he known where she lived?
She took the steps down to her basement apartment. Going straight to the back door in the kitchen she checked that it was locked. It had never bothered her before, and yet now she realised how vulnerable the back entrance was to intruders, just a single lock protecting it. Alone and unprotected with Mike gone, and Damien ignoring her, she felt completely defenceless. She didn’t fancy her chances against someone like Marc Chambers. In a country where it was legal to own a gun, she didn’t even know how to use one; neither did she want to have to know. It was so alien to her culture. It just wasn’t how things were done in London, and yet she almost wished she had one now.

She didn’t feel safe; she also didn’t understand the threat.

She paced the floor. She called Damien again but there was no reply.

If she had the money, she would have been tempted to get on a flight tonight out of here, back to London. But, until her old boss gave her the go ahead to return, and hopefully advanced her wages, she was stuck. She couldn’t even afford a hotel room.

She ached for Damien to come and help her, to reassure her. Her head began to pound, the beginnings of a migraine, fear causing the tension in her head to grow. Perhaps she was over-reacting, misinterpreting Marc, getting carried away and being melodramatic. The last couple of weeks had been an emotional rollercoaster and maybe she was loosing her perspective on reality.

She spent the rest of the night in a state of anxiety, confused and frightened, unable to go to bed and staying up in the lounge until it got light.

Chapter Eleven

Tara woke fully dressed on the couch. She must have fallen asleep at some point in the early morning. It was now gone ten am. As she remembered her encounter with Marc Chambers, she was relieved that she appeared to have made it through the night without an intruder.

Reaching for her laptop, she was anxious to try to find out more about him. She found his company, Beaumont Security, but that revealed very little to her other than professional information. She found pictures of him at various Washington functions, but little else that would help her. She disliked the feeling of being under threat, especially when she had no idea why. She wanted to know how he knew where she lived.

She had put off checking her phone but she grabbed hold of it now, and saw again that there had been no communication from Damien. She threw the phone across the room, hitting the wall.

“Rot in hell Damien.” She shouted at the phone, lying now on the floor.

“Fucking men.”

She included Chambers and Mike in the sentiment. The sooner she got back to London and her old job the better.

She went into the kitchen and put the kettle on to make a cup of tea. Opening the fridge she realised she had no milk. It would have to be black, like her mood.

Damien’s mission had been pulled off without a hitch; smoothly, efficiently and effectively. The team had landed back in D.C. in the early hours, under the cover of night, without the knowledge of the good citizens of Washington. Suffice it to say, that particular terrorist group were no longer on the loose to carry out their threats to America or any other Nation. Damien knew that their actions, dangerous as they had been, were for the greater cause; no more lives would be lost by those particular men. For that reason, he was deeply satisfied.

Collecting his car at the airport, he headed back into D.C., aching for a long hot shower and some much needed sleep. He had spent the last few nights on watch, sleeping only a few hours in the daytime. He would check his emails and messages in the morning. They could wait until he had got some rest. For now, he just needed his bed.

Several hours later, he woke, rested and ready to return to the office. Showering quickly, he dressed and grabbed his phone. As he headed out to his car, he saw a series of missed calls and texts, all from Tara.

Tara heard her ring tone and realised her phone was ringing. She rushed to pick it up where it lay face down on the floor against the wall. She’d thought she’d broken it.

There was no caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Tara.”
Her heart began to pound furiously.

“I see we had an appointment yesterday. Unfortunately, I was unavailable. I thought perhaps you would like to have that appointment this evening instead?”

He would see her again. Just one more time. It would be the last time, he told himself.

“Yes.”

“Good. I will meet you there.”
“Ok..but what time?”

“9pm. I’ll be in the Bar.”

Chapter Twelve

Approaching the Club that evening, she was completely on edge. She was excited to be seeing Damien, knowing what was to follow, but in the back of her mind she wondered if he had someone else. She was also frightened of running into Marc Chambers again.

As she entered the bar, she spotted him immediately at the table where they had sat before and relief flooded through her.

He saw her and stood; his physique stimulating her instantly as she watched him make his way over to her, the fluid movements of his graceful, powerful body. God she had missed him.

As he closed in on her, his face was expressionless but his eyes gave away his intentions.

“Hello Tara.”

He took hold of her by the arm, a gesture now so familiar to her. Even more so now, she needed his firm touch, his control; to reassure her. He led her up the stairs and along the landing. He took the key from his pocket, looking into her eyes silently before unlocking the door. He pulled her inside and closed the door.

Already taking off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt, instantly she forgave him everything.

Lifting her up, he carried her to the bed, placing her face down. “Is this what you wanted? Again?” His voice was low, almost a whisper against her.

Lifting up the back of her dress he uncovered her buttocks, her cream panties showing. 

She heard him unzip his trousers. She couldn’t see as he pulled out his cock, hard as it always was the moment he saw her body.

He slapped it against her buttocks, with difficulty where it was so hard, but as the head of his cock slapped down on her soft white skin, he ran his hand between her legs, grasping her pussy in his hand.

“You need to open your legs for me. You know where I want to spank you next.”

Pulling on her panties he tugged them down, exposing her to him. He saw the wetness between her lips and was unable to stop himself from wanting to taste her, to inhale her scent again.

His mouth took all of her in, sucking on her, pulling her lips into his mouth, his tongue entering her, going deep inside her.

She pushed back against his mouth, rotating her hips, her clitoris rubbing against his mouth. Just as she felt she would explode against him, he pulled his tongue out of her, brought his hand up and started slapping her clitoris, not harshly, but strong enough to feel the stinging impact as it made her clitoris to throb urgently each time. Desperate to come, desperate for him to fuck her, she was on fire.

“Please Damien.”

“What do you need Tara?”

He was teasing her badly. She was unable to turn around, with his hands on her hips holding her down.

“Tell me.”

“I need you to fuck me.”

“You know you’re going to get it hard now, as always; you know I’m going to punish you, don’t you?”

Pushing her legs wider apart he thrust into her, focused only on the sight of her underneath him, her legs spread wide; her sweet symmetrical lips open and wet for his cock as it ploughed inside of her. He felt the tightness of her muscles inside of her as they gripped onto him, pulling him inside; her generous ass framed between his thighs as he fucked her.

His cock was filling her, sending her into mindless abandon as she heard to his groans of pleasure.