Strung (27 page)

"She is keeping their attention on her chest.  Oh dear!  Competition is closing in.  Here comes the great hunter and his trophy."

"How can you tell she's a trophy?”  Chayton asks amused.

"Oh come on.  He has practically hung a neon sign around her.  'Look at my trophy – aren't I a clever boy for nabbing this one – but stay away, she's mine!'
”

"I know how he feels.
”  Chayton murmurs.  "But I'm tired of showing you off now.  I want you all for myself," he whispers into my ear and I feel his growing erection pressing against my behind.  Small shivers pulsate down my spine and my nipples push against their restraints, almost painfully. 

It takes us nearly forty minutes to work our way the length of the Ballroom to the exit.  So many people to say goodbye to.  I have tried everything in my power to speed up the process.  I have squeezed his ass when I was sure no one was looking; accidentally on purpose, brushed against his crotch on several occasions; leaned into him, pressing my breasts against him; strummed my fingertips on my breast bone, when I knew he was looking; run my tongue over my lips and even blown him a sultry kiss. 

If he is noticing, he is not showing it.  My frustration is growing by the second!  I want to go – now!  We are now only steps from the exit when he pulls toward a young couple and makes quick introductions.  I am standing slightly in front of Chayton, his left hand draped loosely over my left shoulder.  I am practically squirming now in my urgency to get out of here and crawl onto him. 

The small train of my dress is getting under my feet and I move a hand behind me to
pull the fabric out of my way.  This time, purely by genuine accident, my hand brushes against his crotch and pauses.  Several gears click into place, all at once and I lean back against my hand, trapping it between us, allowing my greedy fingers to explore.  Perhaps my earlier attentions
haven't
gone unnoticed.  Chayton may be purposely ignoring me but General Lee is very much awake. 

Chapter 14

"Home Sir?"  Morgan asks.

"Quickly," mutters Chayton hoarsely, his eyes burning into mine with an intensity I haven't seen before.
  Very slowly, he leans across and runs his nose along the edge of my ear, making me shiver again as he warm breath caresses me.

"Don't make a sound and don't move!" he growls softly.  Then to my dismay, sits back in his seat and asks Morgan to put some music on.

"Anything particular, Sir?"

"Something mellow and maybe instrumental.  You decide."

I am watching this exchange in confusion.  I have sit still and quiet so they can discuss music?  Why? 
Just kiss me please!

Morgan settles for a Spanish guitar solo which at any other time, I might find soothing and
relaxing but right now, it is just irritating.  Morgan turns the volume up until every note is clear, wafting around us like a cloak.

Chayton offers me a small smile,
and then puts his finger on his lips, a reminder to be quiet.  I frown in confused frustration.

He turns his head away from me, and stares out into the night and
I am about to shift closer to him but his hand stills me, settling on my thigh.  With agonising slowness, his fingers start walking the fabric of my skirt up my leg.  I alternate my glances between the back of Morgan's headrest, Chayton's hand and Chayton's face.  He is sitting perfectly still, a picture of serenity as he gazes out into the night.  I am directly behind Morgan so there is no way Morgan can see me, or Chayton's hand which now has my skirt nearly all the way up my clenched thighs.

A narrow strip of pale white is now visible between the lace of my black stockings
and the scrunched up hem of my dress, and his fingers are tracing patters lightly across the ultra sensitive skin.  I squirm slightly and he stops.  My eyes flicker to his face and without looking directly at me, he shakes his head very slightly in warning.

I try my best not to move. 
It is so difficult.  My body is no longer under my control.  His fingers own me completely.  He gently pulls a knee toward him, effectively parting my legs and his fingers trace over my panties lightly.  For once, I could do without all the foreplay.  I need him now, but I'm too scared to move; too scared someone will notice what we are doing on the back seat of the Kubang.

I lean my head back on the
headrest and close my eyes, allowing a very soft sigh to escape and then I am swallowed by the music.  His fingers still stroking me softly, a finger finds its way under the soft fabric of my panties, sweeping them to one side and his hand cups me intimately.  I keen as the heel of his hand starts to rub softly, his fingertips, teasing the tortured nerve endings at my entrance and I shift, increasing the pressure for a delicious second and opening up in invitation.

Two fingers ease inside, gently stroking the front wall.  I arch slightly into his hand, still painfully aware that we are not alone
.  Instead of easing my craving – it just makes me...more needy! 
Shit!
  If we don't get home soon I am going to jump him right here on the back seat, and whoever is watching – be damned! 

Bastard!
  He is paying me back for my teasing in the Ballroom!  My eyes fly open and I glare at him.  His face is still turned from me slightly and I realise that he is watching my reflection in the glass.  He turns his head to gaze directly at me, a wicked smile dancing across his face.  His mouth parts just a tiny bit and I spy the tip of his tongue glide along the edge of his teeth.  I burst with a whimper, silenced by his mouth as he leans across and kisses me.  His fingers drawing every last shudder from me as I sag limply into the seat. 

"That wasn't supposed to happen," he murmurs against my lips as his hand finally leaves me in peace.  "That was very, very naughty of you."  I can feel his lazy smile as his lips brush along my jaw to my ear.  "I'm going to have you for desert when I get home.  Taste!" 

He curls his hand up and nudges one of his two offending fingers into my mouth.  I lick the offending digit clean and wait for the other one but he draws that one into his own mouth instead.  I am captivated as he closes his eyes, savouring -
me
.  Wow.

And I feel the tension building again.

~.~

13th April

That's it!  Prick me with a fork and turn me over – I'm done!  I can barely move.  I'm staring at the early morning light, filtering through the thin mesh curtains of a games room; I didn't even know he had.

Sprawled out on a jumble of huge
beanbags, I try to burn my memories of last night into permanent murals on the walls of my mind, etched forever for my own personal playback pleasure.  I knew Chayton was a sexual god but...!  And that last thing...!  Is that even supposed to be possible? 

I really should go and pick up all my clothes before Morgan or the mysterious, invisible housekeeper discovers the unfortunate scraps of cloth.  I know my thong is hanging from the end of the banister where I was rudely
but willingly attacked on the bottom of the stairs.  I think I made it across the living area to the breakfast bar before the dress came off and food got involved.  I strain the peripheral vision of my memory.  Is that the coffee maker, the dress is hanging from?  I am sure it is.  Right next to the blender decorated with his boxers and pants.  Hmm, food sex is fun, but perhaps less of the Champagne next time!

It had been our absolute intention to get to bed after that.  Him in his open dress shirt, bow tie draped loosely around his neck and pretty much nothing else.  Me in my killer heels, stockings and velvet,
diamante-decorated bra.  Where did we leave his shoes, socks and jacket?  I shrug mentally, too exhausted for my shoulders to physically follow through.  They are hardly important items of clothing.

I had no idea it was so hard to walk in heels on two bottles of bubbly.  I think I must have almost fallen, at least three times on the way to the stairs near the kitchen.  The last fall was fatal though.  I managed to tackle Chayton to the ground and land in a heap on top of him.  I do believe I'll find my last scrap of twinkling velvet hooked on the iron railing somewhere in the vicinity.  We eventually moved after an hour or so, but only because the stone floor was cold and hard.  The bedroom was still soooo far away. 

We were making progress though, or so I thought.  We
almost
reached the bottom step, when I was lifted like a sack of coal and draped of his shoulders.  We ended up in here.  I spy one of my silver shoes dangling from an immobile ceiling fan.  Chayton's white shirt is draped over the top of an obscenely large gaming monitor on the farthest side of the room and I blush a little, remembering how it got there.  I
have
to try that again! 

My other silver lace shoe is peeking at me from the top of a snooker table.  Well that can't be good for the b
aize!  What's missing? 
His bowtie!  Where, the hell, did we leave that?

"I think I've died and gone to heaven," he mutters exhausted into the soft of my belly.

"Yes.  Must have been one hell of a road crash last night.  I've ended up here with you!  Hey, doing some stock take here, and I think I've mentally accounted for most of our clothing, but do you have any idea where your bow tie is?"

"Give me a moment and I'll show you," he smirks
.  I have no idea where he finds the energy but he starts crawling slowly up my spent body, his lips leading the way.

"I believe, Ms. Ward, that you are still wearing something.  Something that doesn't belong to you.  Something that needs to be removed before it does you harm."  His mouth reaches my neck and I feel a faint tugging and when he pulls his head away, the end of his bow tie is clenched between his teeth and his eyes are glittering.

Now I definitely don't remember how that got there! 
Oh – who cares!

~.~

19
th
April

"Hey Angel."

"Chayton!  Hi!"

"Missing me?" he breathes into the phone.

"Desperately.  Are you on your way back yet?" 

He chuckles through the line.  We both know
he has only been gone a few hours and will not be back for a few days.

"I've checked in with Morgan.  He tells me, a long stream of strange men have been knocking on your door."

"Tell Morgan to stop watching the Cougar's door, over the road." 

"I just thought I'd let you know that Morgan is changing the security detail tonight.  He is hoping to get it sorted before you go to sleep so he can introduce you.  I wouldn't want you getting excited over a stalker."

"Okay."  It has taken me a while to get used to the Tacoma shelter being watched, but Chayton assures me it's the shelter, not me specifically he his having watched and there are now four various shelters under protection.  I'm still not happy that Chayton sulks every time I go out alone.  The last sulking episode had been over a trip to the supermarket. 

"So what are you doing?"  I ask.

"Talking to the most amazing woman in the world," he purrs.

"What!  That's it!  Where are you?  I'm on my way!  I leave you alone for three minutes..."  I can't keep it up and start giggling.  "Really, what are you doing - other than talking?"

"I'm waiting in a badly decorated waiting room for a connecting flight and checking through some rather dull paperwork.  What about you?"

"Um, I was going to try and get an early night.  I figured if I could spend as much time as possible in Lala Land, I would have fewer waking hours to miss you."

"So you're in bed now?"

"Yes.  You want to have phone sex?"

"That could hold some promise, but the first class lounge is rather full tonight.  I don't think anyone here would appreciate my heavy breathing."

"Are you sure?  I
t would be preferable to hauling Bob into bed to keep me company."

"Who the hell is Bob?" he growls down the phone.

"Bob?  I'm surprised at you Chayton; and here I thought you knew everything!"

"Who.
The. Hell. Is. Bob?" he repeats slowly, annunciating each word carefully.

"Oh wow.  Hold on," I giggle.  "Let me just savour this moment."

"Acacia, so help me, when I get hold of you..."

"Chayton Donavan, sexpert extraordinaire, doesn't know who Battery
-Operated-Boyfriend is!  Wow, this is a big deal."  I tease softly.  I listen as the silence stretches out over the phone as he absorbs this new information, trying to decide how to deal with it.

"Acacia, I'm sorry, I have to go," he finally answers abruptly.  "Mrs. Palm and her five
delightful daughters are demanding my attention."  The line goes dead.

Huh
?  Who, the hell, is Mrs. Palm!?

I am
still sitting chewing over the question when my phone beeps.  I open the message staring at it in horror.

~.~

Acacia, sorry to cut you off so suddenly, but Mrs. Palm and all five of her delightful daughters wanted to see me in private.  Fortunately, there is plenty of space in the bathroom cubical for all of us.  I will ring you when we have finished our conversation.

~.~

No Way!  This has to be some kind of joke.  I quickly fire up the web on my phone, and type in Mrs. Palm.  I am drawn to an urban dictionary and open it up, reading quickly.  Serves me right, for teasing him about Bob!  I quickly type out a text of my own.

~.~

Dear Mr. Donavan, I am sorry to have to break it to you, but your darling Mrs. Palm is actually my dearest Mr. Palm.  Not to mention that I have very, very strong affections for her five offspring.  Just this once, I will allow you a smidgen of intimacy with my dear friends.

PS  Are you using your left palm or you right?

XXX

~.~

Ms. Ward, I am typing with my teeth, as mental images of you with Bob have resulted in me having to use both hands.

XXX

~.~

Mr. Donavan, I don't have a B
.O.B!

~.~

I am very relieved to hear that, Ms. Ward.  However...if you want one...I would love to watch.

My flight is leaving now. 
I will phone you in the morning.  Sleep tight Angel.

~.~

I sigh deeply, switching off my light.  I really do want to sleep.  I'm sure our new, ever efficient counsellor, Francis will deal with Morgan and his Staff if they knock.  I know she always goes to bed really late. 

As much as I miss Chayton, it is a relief to have my own space again.  The shelters, have kept my days full over the last week, and every evening, Chayton has picked me up for a collection of wonderfully romantic private dinners, huge lavish parties and educational late nights. 
It has been a whirlwind and sleep has not been a priority.