Suddenly, he seems almost terrified.
‘Don’t worry,’ I add quickly. ‘I’m not going in your back door. Not today. I just need some lubrication.’
I’m given a ‘thank fuck for that’ kind of look.
‘In the drawer,’ he smiles, blinking lazily. ‘The special drawer.’
Within seconds, I’ve launched myself off the bed, fetched the tube of lubricant, and I’m straddling him again.
He tuts. ‘Fail to prepare, Maya, and you prepare to fail.’
I grab his chin.
‘Bollocks,’ I breathe into his face. ‘Smarty had a party and nobody came.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘No idea. Shut up. And close your eyes again.’
Squeezing out a little gel, I lubricate my hands, clasping them both around his cock, right next to his balls. Interlocking my fingers and holding him just tight enough, I twist my fingers around his shaft, moving them upwards in one long motion towards the end of his penis, and then back down again.
In silence, I repeat the action, taking my time, sometimes twisting, sometimes not. It’s not long before he’s totally hard. Eyes still closed, a smile plays on his lips while he drinks it all in, giving in to me completely.
And now, it’s time to move on to the second phase. I squeeze, contracting and releasing my grip right from his balls up to the head, over and over, slowly and patiently, watching in satisfaction as his lips part and tiny beads of sweat appear on his forehead. Swallowing a growl, he knocks his head against the headboard, tightens his grip around the wooden slats and arches away from the bed, lifting me up in the process.
‘Fucking hell, Maya.’
‘Shush.’
For a moment, I toy with the idea of delaying his orgasm, quickly deciding it’s best not to play with fire. Instead, I carry on, relentlessly squeezing, releasing, and twisting again.
A minute or so later, he grimaces, groans and comes. I squeeze again as he ejaculates, sending him into a spin.
‘Shit!’ he cries out, spurting semen all over his stomach and my hands. ‘Shit!’
‘Did I say you could talk?’
Biting back a smile, he shakes his head and then, while he shivers and quakes beneath me, I run my thumb up the underside of his penis, again and again. When he finally seems to have come down from his orgasm, I order him to look at me. He complies, watching as I swipe a finger through the semen and take a taste.
‘Salty. Oh, hang on a minute. Is that garlic?’
‘Possibly.’
I take more on my fingers, rubbing it across my chest, my nipples.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Moisturising.’
With a laugh, he can’t help himself any longer. Letting go of the headboard, he grabs hold of me, one hand at the base of my spine, the other smoothing over my breasts.
‘Jesus, Maya. Where did you learn to do that?’
‘Trade secrets.’ I wink. ‘And I’ve got a few more tricks up my sleeve. I’ve been dying to try them out. The internet’s a wonderful thing. Hands up.’
Again, he obeys, allowing me to run my hands across his warm chest, loving the softness of his skin, the hardness of his pecs, his biceps, his shoulders. Moving between his legs, I skim my palms across his shins, over his scars, further up, taking in the tautness of his thighs. And while I do, he simply gazes at me.
‘That’s the first time I’ve let a woman take the lead in years.’
‘You didn’t enjoy it?’
‘On the contrary.’
He moves suddenly. I’m grabbed, manoeuvred up the bed and rolled onto my back. He pins my arms above my head. ‘Looks like we’re going to have mix things up around here.’
‘Letting go,’ I whisper. ‘Just soaking it up. It’s a liberation.’ I pause, giving him a cheeky grin. ‘And it works both ways.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
The next morning I’m sitting in the Mercedes on a quiet Chelsea street. Waiting for Dan to make a move, I stare out of the windscreen, watching as leaves squall in the air. Spiralling upwards, they’re quickly lost against the grey stone of the townhouses, and the heavy layers of grizzled cloud above. Snatched away by winter’s capricious moods, yesterday’s blue skies have already disappeared.
‘Lily’s house.’
He slips a warm hand across my thigh, leans over and glances up at the Georgian façade: four storeys in all, the windows growing smaller with each floor.
‘It’s beautiful. Why did she want the apartment?’
‘Because she fancied it.’
‘Rich people are weird.’
He plants a tender kiss on my lips.
‘Some of us are alright,’ he smiles, his eyes sparkling.
I touch his cheek, relieved that an evening of relentless sex topped off by a decent night’s sleep seems to have improved his mood. The bruises are deeper this morning; but his features are softer, more relaxed. So far, the day’s been calm, quiet, spent doing nothing in particular, just enjoying each other’s company … with no mention of the past.
But all that’s about to change.
‘This isn’t going to be easy.’
‘I know.’ He blows out a breath. ‘Let’s get it done.’
He gets out of the car, circles round to my side and opens the door, offering me a hand. Happy the good old-fashioned romantic gestures haven’t disappeared, I put my fingers into his and allow him to help me to my feet. He leads me to a glossy black door, and rings the bell. Within seconds, the door opens, revealing a petite, stylish woman in her fifties.
‘Mrs Babbage,’ Dan greets her.
‘Daniel,’ she answers coldly.
‘This is Maya.’ He motions back to me.
Lily’s mother nods. ‘We were wondering when you’d turn up.’
‘I’m sorry. I would have come yesterday, but …’ He lowers his head. ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight. Can I see her? I need to know
