The Accidental Mistress (15 page)

‘I hope you’ve got a condom for that.’

‘Always, love, always. Whenever I’m around you, I have to be ready to be in you.’ He rummaged in his pocket, bringing one out, the familiar packet. Within seconds the wrapping was on the floor and the contents wrapped around him.

Feeling shameless and lewd, Lizzie widened her stance, inviting him to mount her. She didn’t need mad thoughts about randy gardeners now, just John, behind her, fitting the hot, latex-clad head of his cock against her entrance.

‘You know … I might take up gardening when I move in here,’ he said as he pushed on into her, coasting the well of silk that was overflowing her and oozing down her inner thighs. ‘Imagining me as some horny-thumbed son of the soil has got you incredibly wet, baby … You’re gorgeously slippery. Tight, but slippery … just how I like you.’

Lizzie’s head pitched forward. She was overcome. He was so huge, he filled the whole world, not just her. ‘Imagining you as
you
gets me incredibly wet, genius. I thought you might have worked that out by now … ooh! Agh!’ The breath left her body as he shoved in hard, right to the hilt.

‘I’m glad,’ he said. She could tell his teeth were gritted in concentration. ‘I like to know I make you wet. I like to think about it. Imagine it … all the time. You, wet for me.’ He rubbed his face against her hair again, nuzzling her, and all the time, working his hips, pushing. Thrusting. ‘When I’m away from you, I think about touching your pussy and finding it all slippery and warm, primed and ready. Sometimes it’s the only thing that gets me through the day.’

He had to be exaggerating, but it was still a thrill to hear. And a thrill to have him huge and hard inside her, thundering away. Every thrust knocked and stretched her, driving her up again, up, up to orgasm. When he reached around, to touch her clit, she hit the summit. Her cries echoed around the room, bouncing off the glass just in front of her.

It was hard to stay upright, but John supported her, his hand cupping her crotch while he braced them both against
the wall, by the window. Lizzie’s arms had no strength left, as if her whole body had been wrung out, and she swayed, almost falling.

‘Lean against the wall, love,’ gasped John, still hammering into her, still holding her pussy, cradling it.

His voice gave her strength and she shuffled a little, widening her legs, tilting her hips to let him in deeper. Her eyelids fluttered and she started to see things, the real world again. ‘Oh fuck!’ she cried, when a dark shape beyond the glass caught her eye.

There was a car tootling up the long drive towards the front of the house.

‘What? What’s …?’

‘There’s a car coming … someone coming to the house!’

‘What the blessed fuck? I said no one should interrupt us while we were viewing. They must have had a trip sensor on the gate,’ John growled, still pounding her. But as the car approached closer, he grabbed her and whipped her away from window, holding her against the wall.

Feeling him tense to withdraw, Lizzie growled back at him, ‘No! Finish, you bastard, finish! There’s time.’

John laughed, his voice cracking as he grabbed her hips hard, and thrust in three or four short, fierce strokes, obeying her. ‘Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie!’ he cried.

There was no time for afterglow and tenderness, only frantic rearrangement of clothing, punctuated by a bit of cursing, and Lizzie’s helpless giggles.

‘If I didn’t like this place so much, I’d tell them to stuff it,’ John muttered, zipping up, then negotiating his belt and his waistcoat buttons.

‘Yep, it’s definitely an estate agent,’ said Lizzie, peeking from behind the edge of the window as she fastened her
blouse. ‘He’s got a portfolio, and he’s got that look, smooth and predatory, a bit like you.’

‘Cheeky madam,’ said John, straightening up from swooping down to retrieve her knickers and her skirt. ‘Look, I’ll go down and see him. You take your time, love.’ He paused to kiss her cheek, a quick chaste peck, so at odds with what had gone before, and the fact that she was still pretty much naked from the waist down. ‘Do I smell of sex?’ He wrinkled his nose, sniffing the air.

Lizzie sniffed too. She was pretty sure she smelled a bit raunchy, but John seemed OK. Nevertheless, she scooted across the room and picked up her bag, rummaging inside. ‘Try a bit of this. It’s just a very light body spray. It’s not too sweet or girly. It should mask anything more dubious, if you’re worried.’ She held out a small atomiser.

John pulled a doubtful face, but all the same, he puffed a couple of squirts of the spray beneath his jacket.

‘Smells much better on you, sweetheart,’ he said with a shrug, flapping his lapels. ‘I hope he doesn’t fall madly in love with me.’ Flashing her a swift wink, he sped away, heading for the door. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll engage him in conversation, and I’ll give him a piece of my mind too. Just come down when you’re ready.’ And with that, he disappeared, out into the small vestibule, closing the door carefully behind him.

Hysteria surged up, but Lizzie fought to control it. What would the estate agent guy think if he heard someone guffawing like a loony upstairs while he was talking to John? Wriggling into her knickers and then her skirt, she cast around for a door to the bathroom. Ah, there it was. Back the way they’d come.

In the vestibule she tried two doors. The first was obviously a huge dressing room, but the second led into a
lovely, light airy bathroom, all cream and mellow gold, and with a vast sunken tub, his and hers sinks, and even his and hers lavatories in inset cubicles. When she tried the taps, she found the water was turned on, and even whatever heated the hot water was working too. She managed a swift wash, punctuated by suppressed fits of the giggles as she smirked at her pink, flustered face in the gilt-surrounded mirror.

What a scrape. What a near thing. Memories of herself and John cavorting in the ladies’ room at The Bluebell Café, not all that long ago, returned to her. She could still hear the high, squeaky, dowager’s voice he’d assumed to inform the unwary soul outside that their cubicle was occupied. And now he was likely to be behaving all righteous with the hapless estate agent, knowing that he’d just fucked his girlfriend in the bedroom of the house he was viewing, and was now liberally perfumed with her body spray.

And you can’t stay up here all day either, Lizzie Aitchison! Get a move on!

Swiftly, she gave her hair a last once over, tweaking stray strands of her black fringe into place. She gave herself a good dowsing with body spray too. If the estate agent twigged that both she and John were wearing the same fragrance, well, that was tough. Realistically, she didn’t think they were the first couple ever to have sex in a house they were viewing; far from it, if stories in magazines were to be believed.

Making her way down the stairs, she listened to the voices drifting up. John, as ever, sounded completely poised and in charge, not making a fuss about the disobeyed stipulation, but managing to assert his displeasure subtly, all the same. The estate agent sounded petrified, and probably was, fearful that he’d lost a considerable commission. When Lizzie reached a bend in the staircase, she could see him. He was smooth
and over-groomed, but quite a young man. The anxiety in his eyes, in the presence of a high-rolling and possibly temperamental buyer, was plain to see.

‘So, what do you think of the upstairs, darling?’ John beamed at her as she reached the ground floor, and strode towards her, touching her arm possessively and steering her towards the young estate agent. ‘This is Jason, from Blackthornes, and I think he’s a bit nervous that you won’t like this prime piece of real estate of his.’ He winked at nervous Jason, then dusted a kiss on Lizzie’s cheek. ‘This is my friend, Miss Aitchison, on whose opinion the sale or no sale hinges.’

Oh really? I’m sure you’ve already made
your
decision, you tricky devil!

‘It’s a gorgeous house! I love everything I’ve seen so far.’ She smiled and held out her hand and, apparently as spooked by her as he was by John, Jason did a juggling act with files and a briefcase in order to shake it.

‘So?’ John gave her a long, provocative look.

Oh fuck, it did all hinge on her.

Lizzie glanced around. The lobby was a perfect snapshot of the rest of the house, light and warm and welcoming, a sort of sunshine Victoriana. She couldn’t imagine ever getting tired of walking into this space, or of the memories they’d already forged here.

In the orangery. In the meadow sweetness of the master bedroom.

‘You should buy it,’ she said firmly. ‘I haven’t seen all of it, but if the rooms I have seen are anything to go by, it’s far too lovely to pass up.’

John’s eyes flared, and Lizzie glowed inside. She’d impressed him, and she’d impressed herself. For someone
who’d always had a lack of confidence about choices, especially the big ones, she gained a new decisiveness around him.

‘Right. I will.’ He beamed at her, and then turned to Jason. ‘Do you have paper?’

‘Er … yes … yes, of course.’ The young man fumbled with the catch on his briefcase. ‘I have the documents all here … er … do you want to sign them now?’

‘I don’t sign anything without reading it first, but if you let me have them, I think I’ll slip into the orangery to read things over. Then I’ll make the call to my P.A. to have the asking price wired over by bank transfer.’

I’m not half so decisive as you, lover.
Awe, and a new surge of lust, rampaged through her. This was what John did: make the big decisions, without hesitation, unshakably sure of his own judgement. Regardless of what she might have said, she knew he’d already settled on this house, and if there’d been any remote chance that
she
didn’t like it, somehow he’d have won her round, and made her love it.

‘The asking price?’ Jason seemed gobsmacked.

‘Indeed. Admittedly, it’s a tad steep, but I think it’s well worth it.’ John was enjoying the young man’s shock. The fact that Jason had expected a struggle, especially after turning up when he shouldn’t have, and wasn’t getting one. ‘Why don’t you take Lizzie and show her round a few more of the house’s features while I’ll get all this sorted?’ He gestured expansively with the sales portfolio as if he was just about to buy a second-hand garden shed for fifty quid.

‘Yes, of course. Do please come this way, Miss Aitchison,’ said Jason, visibly relaxing, as if relieved to get away from the intimidating presence of a man like John, who could probably compel anybody to anything, even without the benefit of his millions.

‘Enjoy!’ called out John as they walked away.

Jason launched into his spiel, but really, he didn’t need to. Dalethwaite Manor was exquisite. Lizzie had loved it on sight, back when she’d waitressed for the garden party, and the additions and renovations since had only enhanced its intrinsic charm and made it yet more desirable.

They toured the cosy kitchen, with all mod cons; the conservatory, a small gymnasium, and a new addition, a pool with an all-weather canopy roof that could retract on sunny days. A huge home office for John, with every amenity for high-speed business communications; and a lovely, well lit workroom-come-studio, which Jason said had been used by a previous owner for his painting hobby, but which Lizzie could see set up for sewing, with a full-size cutting table for laying out patterns and pieces.

After struggling in her room at home, this would be all-out luxury. She could really get ambitious here; perhaps even design from scratch after all. Closing her eyes, she imagined racks to hang the finished garments on, a little cadre of tailor’s dummies, and space, space, space in which to work and dream.

‘Do you paint, Miss Aitchison?’ asked Jason politely.

‘No, I’m a dressmaker actually, but this room would be ideal for my work.’

She didn’t say ‘will’ … somehow that was a step too far.

After a brief foray around the gardens, the ancillary buildings, the hangar-sized garage and the hard-standing tennis court, Lizzie sensed Jason getting edgy.

He wants to know if John’s done the deal.

As she thought that, the young man’s mobile phone rang, and when he excused himself to answer it, she saw his eyebrows shoot up. ‘Crikey, just like that?’

When he ended the call, he looked around, first towards the heart of the house, then back in the direction of the grounds. Then he whistled. ‘Well, Mr Smith is now the proud owner of Dalethwaite Manor. That was a call to say the money’s already been transferred. In full. I believe there’s always a bottle or two of Champagne kept in the refrigerator for occasions like this. Do you think he’d like to toast the purchase?’

Butterflies battered about in Lizzie’s chest and she felt as if she’d already downed a bottle of Champagne. Just like that indeed. She knew, empirically, that John was rich, but to have it demonstrated to her so graphically was a bit scary.

And she had to know …

‘Um … he hasn’t said, and it’s probably terribly nosy of me to ask … but what is … was … the asking price for this place?’

Jason smiled, looking as if he was slightly scared too.

‘Five point three million.’

‘Jesus Christ!’

‘So, five point three million? That’s quite a commitment.’

They were drinking Champagne, sitting on the front step, waiting for Jeffrey to arrive with the car. Jason had drunk half a glass and gone, the smile on his face so wide he clearly didn’t need booze to feel happy. No doubt his commission on five point three mill was sufficiently intoxicating.

John looked at her thoughtfully over the rim of his glass. ‘Yes. Yes, it is. But I’d just as soon buy a shack on a council estate if it’d make you happy and convince you to move in with me.’

So determined. He wasn’t going to give up. Lizzie wondered why she just couldn’t say ‘yes’ and be done with it. But it was such a giant step, even to be with him.

‘I’m sorry … I know you think I’m being a dithering idiot, and you’re wondering why I won’t do what any woman in her right mind would do without a second thought. But, I need a bit of time to make big decisions. I’ve made some stupid ones at speed in my time, and I’m trying to be a bit older and wiser and all that.’