Strung (13 page)

"Good morning!"  I greet him, my voice already husky.

He pushes the blankets back that are covering us and gives me a long hard salacious stare before pushing his head back into his pillow, groaning again, as I take the tip in my mouth, swirling my tongue around and around the smooth ridge.  His groan and the look of pure pleasure on his face very nearly sets me off and my hips twitch, my muscles clenching deep inside with raw pleasure, as I draw him deeper into my mouth.

I manage to take him to the back of my throat and back, swirling my tongue around the tip, then back to my throat again,  Each move is slow and lazy, one hand firmly encasing him and controlling the motion.  His hands have entwined in my hair and his eyes are closed as his hips press into me again and again, urging me on.

"Acacia...I'm...Christ!  Stop!  I'm going to come!" he gasps, his head pushed deep into his pillow, his eyes squeezed shut.  I gaze at him through my lashes, tighten my lips and groan with elation to see the rapture on his face.  With a final pull, he squirts, thick and salty down the back of my throat and I milk him, urging every last drop as his body twitches under my ministrations, until he is done.  I kneel up and smile at him, licking my lips.

"Good morning yourself," he pants, "that was incredible – and unfair.  Come here!" he suddenly growls bolting up, grabbing my hips and pulling me down on top of him.

"You like?" 

"Very.  Fucking.  Much."  He manages between kisses.  "I have been woken up in the morning in many, many interesting ways," he mutters with reverence against my neck.  "That qualifies as the most interesting of all, Angel!"

"Well General Lee has no trouble with cold morning starts," I tease, giggling at his low growl.

I wrap my legs around his hips as we sit on the middle of bed, his arms pulling me tight against his chest and his mouth latched onto mine
.  He kisses me slowly, his tongue worshipping mine as they entwine and a deep reverent purr escapes from his chest, making me clench and shudder.

His kiss deepens and I feel him twitch beneath me. 
Wow, ready for round two, so soon?
  I slide my fingers into his hair at the roots and grip, tugging firmly as my hips shift against his on their own accord, searching for delectable friction.  I gasp as Chayton lifts my buttocks, shifting us both and I feel the silky length of him begin to stroke me, slowly, sensually, my moisture spreading and covering us both.

"You are so wet for me," he growls into my mouth.  "And so very alluring."

I whimper softly as I increase the pressure against him. 

"It feels...so...Oh!  Oh
, God!" I cry, throwing my head back, arching my spine into the sensations, flowing with it.  

His lips close around a nipple, sucking gently, pulling.  I feel the firm ridge around the head of his erection stroke over the hood my clitoris, back and forward, back and forward.  I feel his teeth bite down sharply on my nipple and tug and my entire body convulses violently, every twitch and shudder, sweet agony.  I feel!  Yes, I feel!

"Are you on birth control?" he whispers.

"Yes.
”  I quiver.  He slides slowly into me as my twitching muscles clench around him, caressing him, drawing him in further, encouraging him until he is entirely encased, to the root.  He holds me there as my muscles relax and my awareness starts to expand beyond the sweet, sweet sensations.

I find him gazing into my eyes, his breathing harsh and ragged like mine, and I realise with pure joy, that he is exercising monumental
self-control to make sure that I am taken care of.  He draws my knees up to his shoulders and his hands grasp the top of my hips.  I feel splayed open and satisfyingly full, the move bringing us closer together.  A growing ache is building inside, needy and raw.

"Lean back on your hands Acacia," he orders huskily and I do. 

"Ah!"  He starts to move, his hips tilting to meet with mine.  I can feel him hitting the ache square on.  I want to stretch out my legs, squeeze them, tighten them - but I can't. 

"Go with it Angel.  Let it take you."

Chapter 7

"Breakfast is served Ms. Ward!" he bows gallantly, holding my chair out while I settle. 

Two loaded plates are on the table.  Pancakes, bacon and toast.  It smells amazing and
I am starving.  We both dig into our meal with famished enthusiasm, devouring a few mouthfuls before I break the silence.

"You don't actually live here, do you?"  I ask.  My curiosity is burning.

His fork hesitates for a moment or two as his eyes meet mine, his expression dim.  He shakes his head and turns his attention back to his place and I feel the shutters slam down on his earlier good mood. 
What, the hell, have I said now?

I try a different tact, trying to lighten the mood again.  "So is this like your Shag Shack or Passion Cabin or something
?  Is this where you debase poor young maidens?  The perfect little Love Nest?"  I tease softly. 
Oh please, please, please lighten up.  This is confusing enough without the mood swings.

My heart sinks as he places his knife and fork down, pushing his plate of food away.  He has only eaten half his food. 

"I'm sorry.  I'm just making conversation.  It's obviously a poor choice in topic.”  I mumble.  He leans back in his chair, combing his fingers through his hair with both hands.  He then clasped his fingers behind his neck and glowers at me, his eyes guarded and dark for several long seconds.

"Get dressed.  It's time to get you back to civilisation," he says abruptly, pushing away from the table, stalking off to the bathroom.

Well fuck me senseless!  What, the hell, is that all about?
  I study my plate, realising I am not very hungry anymore either.  I clear up the table and gather up my clothes, choosing to dress where I undressed, in the middle of the living room.

I am
just smoothing my clothes down, my mood growing more and more acidic, when I hear a scrape at the door and it swings open.  Dog!

I watch amazed as the huge animal strolls in, his nails clattering on the stone floor.  He pushes the door closed with his snout and ambles over to greet me.

"Hey boy!  Long time no see.  Where have you been, huh?"  I scratch him behind his ears and his tail goes berserk at the attention.  Chayton enters from the bathroom and pauses when he sees Dog sitting in front of me then carries on through to the bedroom.  He is back out again a minute later, strapping his watch to his wrist.

"Dog, we're going," he orders.  I almost burst out laughing when Dog gives him a sullen look then promptly lays down, his face doing the melting thing all over the floor.

"Fine.  Close the door behind you when you leave, last time you let the wildlife in!”  Chayton grumbles and holds a heavy leather jacket up for me.  I limp over and he slips it onto my shoulders, careful not to touch me.

"Chayton."

"What?" he says, holding the door open.

"What have I done wrong?
”  I ask.

His expression softens a fraction and he sighs.  "Nothing," he mumbles.  "It's just late.  We need to go."

"Fine, don't tell me!"  I limp angrily out the door and climb into the jeep. 

He settles in and turns the vehicle around in the yard.

"I'll drive myself back to Tacoma.  There is no reason to put yourself out.”  I mutter sullenly.  "My ankle is feeling much better."

"No, you won't."

"Chayton, you can't stop me!"

"Your ankle might be fine for short periods, but that is a long drive and your clutch is heavy.  I have your keys, so don't argue with me."  I can feel the tension emanating off him in waves and I wish I could rewind the morning and start it over.

~.~

When we arrive back at the house, Savannah is there and a tough looking guy in jeans and a black leather jacket.  They are both standing in the kitchen, sipping on steaming mugs, when we enter and both of them raise their eyebrows at us.

I groan inwardly.  I can tell by their faces, that they know exactly what I've been doing the last twenty-four hours.  Chayton closes the door behind me.

"Morgan, Savannah," he acknowledges.

"Boss," replies the brick wall of a man.

"Morgan, this is Acacia Ward.  I'll be in the office," he grumbles, stalking off.

"Morgan," I offer a small-embarrassed smile.

"Ma'am, nice to meet you," he smiles kindly and his hand practically swallows mine in a handshake.

"Please call me Acacia.”  I mumble.

"Yes Ma'am.  Excuse me please.  His lordship appears to be a little moody."  He is still smiling when he disappears from the room.

"So?" smiles Savannah.

"What?"  I ask, turning puce.

"So it's going to be like that then?  Okay.  It will come out in the wash eventually!" she grins over the top of her mug.  "Hey, you don't know how to bake do you?"

"I might..."
where is this heading?

"Could I bother you to stay for one more night?  Please?  For me?  It's just that, well, the hen party is tonight and with the pass being closed, no-one has managed to arrange a cake and now there's no time - and of course you're invited," her rush of pleading words wither away.  "Help!" she ends softly her face a picture.

I stare at her conflicted.  Victoria said I should make friends and I like Savannah.  This could be a good opportunity.  However, a party?  That implies many people.  It also means another night with Chayton lurking close by and I am not sure how I feel about that.  I know I am not needed back in Tacoma today, unless something new arises.  I chew my lip, trying to decide.

"Please?" she begs again with an exaggerated pout, sensing my indecision.

"Okay, I guess,” I sigh heavily, exhausted by it all and she walks over stiffly and hugs me.  Despite her injury, she still manages to exude a great deal of enthusiastic energy.  I imagine that without her injury, she would now be skipping around or jumping up and down in excitement. 

"Thank you.  This is going to be great!" she beams at me. 

~.~

While we bake, she grills me on the last couple of days, horrified to discover that Chayton had Mumps and thanking me profusely for looking after him.  I still wonder
what her relationship is with him. 

I wish I
were the type of person who was comfortable asking personal questions.  My usual philosophy is 'if they want me to know...they'll tell me', because my few attempts at asking personal questions, have usually ended badly. 
Point made with Chayton!
 

They obviously care a lot about each other but she also knows
we have been up to no good - although I have not admitted it - and she seems fine with it. 

~.~

I am running late and frankly, I am nervous which isn't helping.  I take a moment to check my appearance in the mirror.  Savannah insisted on doing my makeup earlier.  I have never worn this much before but I like it.  I look – well – a little wild and younger.  I quickly touch up my lipstick and hear a knock at the door.  I smooth my hands over my very tight jeans and straighten the tailored, halter neck blouse Savannah has lent me.  Red suits me.  I should wear it more often, I think to myself wistfully.

"Acacia?"  Savannah calls.

"Coming!"  I grab my purse.

"Wow, you do grunge down nicely."  Savannah takes in my overall rock-chick appearance appreciatively and I twirl dramatically.  We both giggle and my nerves dissolve.

"Actually I am a closet rocker but please don't tell!”  I plead with mock sincerity.

"Your secret is safe with me," She whispers glancing around frantically as though spies are everywhere.  We both burst into fits of giggles again.  Savannah has opted for
the more metal look in torn jeans and a baggy AC/DC t-shirt and loads of thick black eyeliner.  It suits her and makes her look years younger.  Sadly, I suspect her choice is more about what will hide her brace.  We are both wearing Dr. Martins, and I am relieved at the support the tight boot is giving my ankle.  It only feels a little bruised if I lean too heavily on it.

Savannah pulls me into the yard, anxious to get going and
I am surprised to see Morgan waiting next to a black SUV, then I realise Savannah, probably can't drive properly with her back brace. 

I wait while Morgan helps Savannah into her seat, noting how careful and attentive he is with her.  I think he likes her and wonder if
she has noticed.  When she is safely strapped in, next to the cake, which she has insisted on babysitting personally, Morgan opens the front passenger door for me and waits for me to climb in and settle.  He closes the door gently and while he is out of earshot, I turn and whisper back to Savannah. 

"He is definitely hot for you!"  Before she can reply, Morgan is climbing into the driver seat.  I note, with amusement, Savannah's flushed expression and know at that the feeling is probably mutual.  I wonder if they have actually expressed their feelings to each other, or maybe they are already together.  As we wind our way through the thickly forested mountains my mind drifts back to my frantic phone call to Victoria a few hours ago.

The cake is cooling, waiting to be iced and Savannah has disappeared, leaving me alone with my thoughts.  As if the last week had not been bad enough, the last twenty-four hours have me completely frazzled.  I have squirreled myself away in my room and dialled Victoria from my BlackBerry.

"Victoria, hi."

"Acacia?  Hey, how are you?"

"Terrified," I whisper.

"Acacia, what's wrong?  Where are you?" she asks quickly, her concern obvious.

"I'm not in any immediate danger," I counter quickly, reading her assumption.  "
I am just confused and ...” This is so much harder than I thought it would be.

"Okay.  Where are you?" 

"Donavan's Pass."

"Still?"

"The road was closed for a while."

"Okay.  What's bothering you Acacia?"

"I'm not sure; everything," I sob. 

"I take it being trapped on the mountain, is stretching your reserves a little?"

"And then some.  Victoria, I haven't been near my office for a week and..."

"
Shhh.  Acacia, listen to me!  You are a bright and resourceful person.  You have surrounded yourself with a team of capable and reliable people.  You chose them for that reason.  It's not the end of the world to let them get on with being capable and reliable."

"Yes but..
."

"But nothing.  The road may have been closed but the miracle of modern technology has not isolated you, Acacia.  So tell me; what's it like up there?"

"Beautiful," I admit.  "Like having a five star hotel to myself."

"Good!  Then think of it as a
weeklong holiday.  Now why don't you tell me what's really bothering you?"

"Well, there's this man here."

"Ooo, go on!" she cackles.

I sigh.  She is not making this easy.  "Well, he is hot and I kind of slept with him," I whisper.

"And?  Come on Acacia, don't leave me hanging here!"  A sob escapes and I sniff loudly, unable to formulate my words.  When Victoria speaks again, her tone is kinder. 

"Alright Acacia, let's look at this problem of yours.  He is hot!  What do you mean exactly?  Hot as in gorgeous or hot as in feverish?"

Well, both actually.
  "He is straight-out-of-Hollywood-fuckable."

"That's usually a good start.  So does he pick his nose
?  Does he belch the alphabet perpetually?  Does he smell bad?"

"No, nothing like that."

"Okay, does he have a medieval torture chamber?"

"I
er, don't think so..."

"A harem?"

"Not that I'm aware of."  My thoughts cross to his love shack, and wonder.

"Acacia, does he grow fur at night and lick his butt?"

"No!”  I sniff and giggle at the same time.  "Don't tease, it's not professional."

"I'm not on the clock so I don't have to be."

"Still – it's not fair," I grumble.

"So, let me understand this.  There is this hot, single, fuckable – as you put it – house trained man," she pauses for effect.  "And you, an intelligent, beautiful, single, consenting, adult female; have exercised your right as such, and slept with him."

"That's a fair summery."

"Acacia what is the problem?  Are you looking for my approval?" she groans exasperated.

"He is confusing.  Sometimes he is kind and thoughtful and makes me feel cherished and other times he is cold and distant." 

"Are you giving him mixed signals?"

"I...I don't know.  Maybe.  Probably.”  I admit.  I had not thought about it.  Is he maybe, reacting to my mixed signals?  I don't want to think about that.  "There is also our agreement..."