The Glass Knot-mmf (13 page)

I
stared up at him. The dim light and the silence seemed to weave a spell around
us, a spell that made it
only
us. The air was thick with dust, palpable
with desire. His eyes were locked with mine, and a slow growing realization
crept over me.

He’s
looking down at me like he wants a repeat performance of our wildest moment in
Spain.

“Lord
help me,” he mumbled, dropping his head closer still, until his breaths breezed
over my face.

The
unthinkable, the impossible was about to happen. He was going to kiss me, and I
was going to let him, despite my promise to Nick.

No
I can’t do that. I’m not a bitch.

 “Laura,
I can’t stop thinking about you, about us. I just need to…I want…”

 I
despaired with myself, didn’t think I could stoop to such depths of
self-destruction. Drop myself into a pit where I knew guilt would eat me alive.
But I was going to. Josh could do whatever he wanted and take whatever he
needed. His words, the desire in his eyes, it was like showing a red rag to a
bull. “Yes,” I said.

The
decision had made itself.

I
flung my arms around his neck at the same time as he dragged my body to his.
Our mouths connected in a frantic, desperate kiss. Tongues racing and
searching, lips starving as we fed off each other.

He
let out a low, triumphant sound, like a growl. It made the hairs on the back of
my neck rise. All sane thoughts left me. I was in Josh’s arms, he was all I
wanted, and judging by the long hard bulge jutting into my stomach, he wanted me
too.

I
couldn’t help myself. I knew, in the back of my mind, how much this would hurt
Nick, but that worry seemed like a million light years away. It was scarily
easy to bury it and figure it out later.

“I’ve
dreamed of tasting you again,” he admitted hoarsely.

“You
have?”

“Yeah,
I know I shouldn’t but I can’t seem to stop myself.” He slid his hands down and
cupped my ass through my jeans, tugged me harder against him. “You’ve got under
my skin and into my brain. I can’t stop thinking of you and our night together.”
He groaned and kissed me even harder.

His
words and his urgent kiss sent electric pulses of delight through my body. My
breasts grew heavy as I leaned into his bare chest. My breaths were hard to
catch. I should have replied, or told him to stop or something, but I couldn’t.
I was sating a hunger that had been growing to alarming proportions.

An
image of Nick, relaxed on holiday, smiling and confident came into my mind.

How
can I be doing this?

I
pushed at Josh, shook my head. “No.”

“Yes.”
He stepped backwards, dragging me with him. Then we were lying down on the soft
hay and his luscious weight was settling over me, the word no was lost from my
vocabulary and the image of Nick evaporated.

Hurriedly
I explored Josh’s naked back, dipping into the valley of his spine and adoring
the power harnessed in every muscle. Our legs tangled, he shoved up my t-shirt
and dragged my bra to one side.

“Oh,
sweet Jesus,” he groaned, taking my nipple into his mouth. He pinched the hard
nub between his teeth and sucked, just the way I liked, the way I’d taught him
to do it.

I
shut my eyes, threaded my fingers into his hair. Just minutes ago I’d been
wishing I’d brought my vibrator, now it seemed Josh had solved the problem.

He
suddenly sat back on his heels and yanked down the zipper on his jeans. Pulled
himself free. There were no boxers to get in the way. His cock just sprung out,
thick, rigid and heavy.

My
mouth watered at the sight of his shaft and the big, angry red head. I reached
for him greedily, wrapped my hands around his cock and squeezed.

He
sucked in a breath, and a tremble attacked his body. “Your little hands are so
sweet on me.”

“Josh,
oh, I’ve missed you so much. I want you.”

“And
you’re going to get me,” he said, dropping down and taking my mouth in a kiss
that left no doubt in my mind exactly what was going to happen next.

We
both struggled with my skinny jeans. I twisted and kicked, and my sandals flew
off, forgotten. Hay poked at my buttocks, tickled my thighs. Impatience swelled
as my pants proved stubborn slipping over my feet.

Eventually,
I lay beneath him, half naked and my pussy buzzing for connection with his cock.

He
lifted his head and sucked in a heavy breath. His eyes were a wild dark blue,
the color of a mountain lake, the sky before a storm.

“Josh,
please, now.”

With
deft movements he rolled on a condom and positioned the head of his cock at my
slick entrance. He hooked his arm behind one of my knees, tugged upwards and
stretched me wide and open. I lifted my other leg and dug my heel into the hard
orb of his ass, spreading myself ready for his invasion.

He
hovered over me.

I
was just about to tell him to get on with it when he blasted in.

“Argh,
oh God…” I cried. Pain and pleasure mingled ferociously. I hadn’t been
expecting such a rapid and thick filling

“Shit,
sorry.” He froze.

I
twisted my head in the hay and arched my back. “No, no, oh, please don’t stop,
it’s amazing, oh Josh, just fuck me.”

“I
want you so bad but I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re
not. Please, take me. Like you did before.”

He
groaned long and low and shoved his cock into me so completely his balls mashed
against my ass.

I
hid my face in his neck, nipped his taut tendons with my teeth. Loving the
sensation his big dick created deep within me, and the way the hardness of his
pubic bone ground over my clit.

“You
feel even better than I remember,” Josh whispered hotly into the shell of my
ear. “So wet and warm and tight.”

I
shuddered in bliss as he began to move, riding in and out, over and through me.
My clit was building up fast to an orgasm. He slotted his arms beneath my
shoulders, binding me to him. I fastened my legs over his butt, shifting up and
down on the hay within his glorious driving pace. My skin was on fire, hot and
feverish, my lungs bursting as though I’d just ran five miles.

“One
night just wasn’t enough, I know that now.” There was a desperate urgency in
his voice. “Oh, Laura, oh, what are we doing?” He arched his neck toward the
ceiling and screwed up his eyes. His lips pulled back and he bared his teeth.

“Josh,
but it feels so good, oh, oh, I’m coming.” I shoved my forehead into the top of
his chest, trembled as I balanced on the precipice of a wild climax.

I
came. It was blinding and powerful. A breathless freefall through space. My
entire body went into a series of wild spasms, my limbs clinging to his, my
pussy hugging him. I was drenched and gasping in his arms, a writhing tangle of
emotions; guilt and pleasure, ecstasy and betrayal.

“Ah,
sweetie, I love it when you do that, ah…ah…” His mouth fell open in a silent
scream, and his hips pounded into me. The sound of slapping flesh filled the
barn as he rode through his final throes.

Another,
instantaneous climax devoured me. I fell to pieces in his grip, thrashing on
the hay as the explosions went on and on, colliding with his pulsing cock.
There was so much intense sensation my brain couldn’t process it and I folded
in on myself, drifting on bliss.

When
eventually I opened my eyes he was staring down at me, his gaze burning hot as
his hips slowed.

I
dragged in a shaky breath. The scent of salt, my own arousal and the dark musk
of male surrounded us. I reached up and cupped his jaw. His mouth fell to a
straight line and his eyes narrowed. It was as if he was afraid of the wild
energy that had carried us away, suspicious of the momentum of our desire that
had been so unstoppable.

There
was something about his expression that made me feel vulnerable, exposed and
frightened. “Josh,” I whispered. A whip of regret lashed within me—I knew
guilt would soon be my best friend.

“What
have we done?” he said, tipping his head into my palm. “Shit, Laura.”
He pulled out and rolled off me, still gasping for
breath.

I
drew my legs together, my inner thighs sliding as if they’d been oiled. A glut
of moisture seeped from my pussy. “Fuck, I think the condom split.”

“Shit.”
He furrowed his brow, and glanced down, sure enough the head of his cock was
completely exposed. “But I’m clean, I promise. I told you in Marbella—”

“Josh,”
I interrupted, in a shaky voice. “It’s not just about whether or not we’re
clean.”

 He
snatched in a sharp breath, his nostrils flared. “Fuck, I’ve never had to think
about
that
before,” he whispered. “Oh, shit, how can I have done this to
you, to Nick? I feel terrible, I’m such a bastard to the man I love.”

A
bolt of pain jarred through me. Yes, what we’d done had been crazy, foolish,
thoughtless. But while my heart was still skipping, fresh from one hell of a
multiple orgasm, he’d said he felt terrible.

Couldn’t
he have waited another minute to say those words?

“I
have to go and tell him,” Josh said, standing and dragging up his jeans.

I
watched him tuck his shiny, softening cock away and do up his fly. “Do you really
think you should?”

“Yes.
Absolutely.”

“But—”

“I’ve
got to, it’s the only way.”

“Well
at least take the hay from your hair,” I said, straightening my bra and pulling
down my top.

He
plucked out a long strand and flicked it away, irritable. “Shit.”

“Josh,
I’m sorry.”

His
brow creased and he shook his head, he gave a strained smile. “You did nothing
wrong, sweetie. It was all my fault, all my doing. If anything needs sorting
out, for you I mean, if you’re…I’ll be there, money, support you name it.”

He
turned and strode across the barn, slipping between the crack in the doors the
way a felon leaves the scene of a crime.

I
sat for ten long minutes, hugging my knees and staring at the shard of light
that had kissed Josh so exquisitely only moments ago. I concentrated on the
flecks of dust floating in the air where he’d stood—it gave me something
to do and helped prevent tears of shame taking hold. Because once they did, I
wasn’t sure they would stop.

Eventually,
I stood and pulled my knickers and jeans up my damp legs. My mind was spinning.
Part of me wanted to celebrate the fact that Josh did indeed have feelings for
me—hot, steamy feelings. Another part, a much bigger part, couldn’t believe
how cruel I’d been to Nick. I was a disgrace, a Judas in his house. He was a
fool to have ever let me over the threshold.

I’d
seen the pain and fear in Nick’s eyes, heard it in his voice yesterday. He’d
known the risk of me being here was huge but said I was understanding and
invited me to stay longer, because, I suspected, he trusted me. Despite this I’d
let his worst nightmare happen. How horrible a person was I?

Even
I hate me.

I’d
broken that fragile sliver of trust, but what was going to be truly devastating
for him was the fact Josh had broken his trust. My heart swelled painfully as I
thought of the agony he would be feeling right now, if indeed, Josh was telling
him what we’d just done. No, Nick didn’t deserve that, he was a good man, a
kind man, who just wanted to live a quiet life with the person he loved.

I
stood and brushed the hay from my back and plucked several stalks from my hair.
I would have to go home, to London, now. Grab my bag and get the hell out of
Little Mickleton.

Forever.

The
sun had me blinking rapidly as I let myself out of the barn. The midday heat
caressed my shoulders but it didn’t warm me. I was cold—cold and ashamed.

The
cat meowed from under the first apple tree I walked past, his green eyes hard
and accusing, as if he knew I’d caused great suffering to his owners.

Seriously?

Gripping
my camera, I walked down the path, hoping that I could get to the guest room,
grab my case and hit the road without being seen. I just needed to think straight
for a few more minutes, then, once in the safety of my car, I could wade
through the tirade of emotions.

The
Kendals didn’t need me in their home for another second, let alone another
night.

I
was thankful for my soft-soled shoes as I walked over the patio, my approach to
the house silent. It seemed the blackbird was otherwise engaged on the fence,
holding a snail shell in his beak, and he didn’t bother to squawk at my
presence.

It
was then I heard voices. Deep voices. Loud with outbursts of emotion.

I
paused and glanced through the open kitchen window.

Josh
and Nick were standing by the Aga. Josh was still bare chested though his skin
and hair looked damp, as though he’d shot through the shower to remove physical
evidence of me; it made me think of Lady Macbeth, obsessively washing her hands
over and over after the murder of the king.