The Boleyn Effect (The Boorman Ending) (18 page)

'Leigh...sweetheart...'

I can hear that his
motions are becoming frantic and I can imagine how thick and
pulsating he must be in his own hands. How it felt inside me as he
fucked me against Clair's desk.

'I'm coming for you,' I
barely manage to croak. 'I'm going to explode all around
you.'

'The let me have it
Leigh-Anne.'

Reaching my peak, I cry
out Harry's name and just as I hear my own as the phone drops onto
the sofa. A moment later I hear my name again from the speaker and
zipping myself, I pick it up.

'Are you OK?' he
asks.

'I would prefer to do it
for real,' I say.

'Maybe it can be
arranged,' he chuckles. 'You know I've never done that
before.'

'Neither have I,' I
lie.

He doesn't need to know
all my sexual encounters. If it's his first then it's mine too. My
experience could put him off. But at the moment he's phoned me
after just one night away. He's wrapped around my little
finger.

'I need to go and clean
myself up,' he says finally. 'Damn meetings. I wish I was there
with you. When are you coming back?'

'Tomorrow,' I
answer.

'I want to meet you,' he
demands.

'I'll call when I get
back.'

'Make sure you use this
number,' he insists.

Again that uneasy feeling,
but I've got to bury it.

'I will I
promise.'

As I put the phone down
the music suddenly goes dead and the front door crashes open as my
parents bustle in. Talk about good timing. Getting up, I make my
way to the kitchen where my mother is unpacking the weekend shop.
Going to the sink, I wash my hands, before I offer help.

'Are you ok honey,' she
says scrutinizing me.

'Yeah why?'

'You just look a little
flush, maybe you're coming down with something.'

'I'm fine, I just slept
far too well,' I lie.

'Are you sure?'

'Just leave the poor girl
alone,' my dad mutters. 'If she says she's fine then let it
be.'

I mouth a thank you to my
dad who gives me a grin and a wink. Leaving them to it, I bound my
way upstairs and into my room. It is then I catch a glimpse of my
grin in the mirror. I am excited to be going back home, seeing
Harry again.

Oh shit. This isn't good.
I shouldn't be excited. Going to the mirror, I stare hard at
myself. Sparkly eyed and excited flush. This isn't just post orgasm
this is turning into something else. Something deeper.

'No' I snap at myself.
'Leigh-Anne Boorman, No, don't even go there.'

CHAPTER
TWENTY THREE

Getting back to my own
four walls was a welcome relief and I’ve missed calls from both
Harry and George. I want them both to wait for me and I need to
take control of the situation with Harry. If I see him straight
away then I will fall under the spell that I'm trying to weave.
Time away will make his lust hotter and the heart fonder I'm sure.
But it will also give me time to cool down any feelings that are
starting to emerge.

By late afternoon, after
packing my stuff away, I am enjoying the peace and time to myself
when a knock comes at the door. To my surprise it's Clair on my
doorstep.

'Can we talk?'

I step aside as she enters
my flat. She looks anxious and upset. She is such a controlled
person in everything, but the woman standing in my flat is far from
it. Not even a spot of make-up on. As for her clothes. It's as
though she's picked up the first item of clothing she could find
and thrown it on. This, the same Clair who wears designer no matter
what day of the week it is.

'You okay?' I
ask.

'I just want to talk to
you about George and me,' she says.

'You know you're both free
agents. Go for it. You don't need my permission,' I say.

She slumps down on the
sofa and I see she's fighting tears.

'It's just sex, that's all
he keeps saying,' she mutters.

And there it is. The
reason for the loss of control, because that's what George does. He
takes it from you and claims it as his own.

'And you want
more?'

She nods her head and now
tears are falling down her cheeks. Admittedly, I’m a little
surprised that she's fallen for George and I wonder how he's
managed to work her round to his way. But then wasn't I doing the
same thing. Doing something in order to please George.

'Then stop seeing him,' I
say. 'Or give him an ultimatum.'

'You make it sound so
simple,' she answers.

'Well it is
really.'

'Is that what you do?' she
asks.

She gives me a strange
look. An unsettling look.

'What do you
mean?'

'I mean is that how you
keep Harry Cobain interested?'

I’m sure shock registers
on my face.

'I'm not
sure...'

'Come on Leigh. Don't even
try and lie about it. It's me.'

'I suppose there's a lot
to be said for pillow talk,' I snap defensively.

'I told you not to do
this.'

'Are we talking about me
or whether you've fallen in love with my best friend that you're
screwing?'

'I don't need to tell you
that he loves you,' she says.

My initial anger subsides
as I sit down beside her.

'I know he does, but I
don't love him. You know this. I'm no threat.'

'I can't believe we are
arguing over men,' she laughs after a moment.

'George has always been a
dick. He may be my best friend, but just be careful
Clair.'

'The same goes for you.
This thing he's got you into is not going to have a happy ending,'
she warns.

'I have it fully under
control,' I say.

'Really, because when I
saw you both together in the studio, you didn't look like a woman
playing along.

'What did I look like?' I
ask.

'Like a woman who is
infatuated. He's a very good looking man and I get it, but now you
look like a woman in love and that's a different fire to play
with.'

I would be lying if I said
that Clair's words haven't got to me a little. She's of course
wrong. I admit that I lust after Harry, but to love him is just
over the top. We have a sexual connection, but I could never love
him. Apart from the sex, he is not really my type. I could walk
away from him anytime I wanted. In fact, by ignoring his messages
is proof that I am still the puppet master in this.

'I'm not in love, Clair,'
I say firmly.

'I hope you prove me
wrong.'

Once Clair leaves I carry
on trying to get myself ready for the week ahead. I have so much
work to catch up. Emails to answer, invoices to post. It seems
leaving Clair in the state she’s in wasn't a good idea. Soon, I
find my phone with a message waiting for me.

'Are you home?
Missing you. Yours H x
.'

I put the put phone down
and ignore it. I should leave it for tonight. But an hour later the
message is resent and I can't resist any longer. I hate saying
this, but I miss him and I need his contact. It's like being away
from the sun too long. You crave it.

'I
am
,' I answer.
'I've had stuff to catch up
.'

No sooner has it gone then
the phone rings.

'I'm still at work,' Harry
says.

'All work and no play,' I
answer.

'Exactly, so do you want
to play?'

I smile at his question
and give my answer. If he only he knew that the game has already
begun with him at its centre. With a promise that I will be there
in an hour I begin my preparation. If he wants a fantasy then I was
going to give it to him.

CHAPTER
TWENTY FOUR

I check myself over as I
stand outside his office door. Dressed in a short pleated tartan
skirt and white blouse, I've gone for the good old punky school
girl. Considering where he's waiting it seems apt. Plus, it would
serve as a reminder of his own youth.

My walk up to the uni and
then the walk has been a nerve wracking one. Making sure I'm not
noticed by anyone that knows George and also the corridors on a
night are as spooky as hell. But soon I am Harry's door and raising
a hand, I knock.

'Come in.'

Putting on my best coy
face, I drop my coat on his secretary's desk and enter the office
of a Dean. I try and hide my awe at its size and grandeur. There is
smell of polished leather, malt whiskey and old books. The walls
are filled with bookshelves, with titles I hardly recognise.
Finally my gaze lands on Harry, sitting behind his desk.

Wearing a smart dark brown
blazer, tie and shirt, he's the image of power. I feel warmth run
through me as our eyes meet. Blue against brown. Clashing and
consuming the other. My hands are clasped behind my back as I lower
my eyes to the floor. Waiting patiently for his command. Just like
a good student.

'Come,' he commands, a
smile filling his face.

Obediently, I walk towards
the desk stopping once I reach it. The large oak desk stands
between us. It's conveniently empty and it I fight the urge to
smile.

'You asked to see me sir,'
I say coyly, looking at him through eyelashes.

I hear his breath catch
and my ego grows a little bit bigger.

'Come round this way,' he
says.

I circle the desk until
I’m stood beside his chair. I rest slightly on the edge with my
hands still behind my back, waiting for his next instruction. His
eyes almost devour me. I can still see his reaction even though my
eyes were lowered.

Pushing back his chair
slightly, he indicates that I should move further in front of him.
Still seated, he reaches out and ever so slightly touches the tops
of my thigh, my breath hitches as does his when he reaches the top
of my stockings.

'These are hardly suitable
university wear,' he whispers.

'Then maybe you should
confiscate them, sir,' I answer.

The stockings are slowly
rolled off, one after the other. His fingers barely touching skin
making the anticipation even better. Then with the back of his
fingers he strokes the skin of my leg softly and my hands clench
the edge of the desk. The tease causing my body to shudder. Fingers
stroke up my thigh, stopping short of my centre. A small groan
leaves my lips and a smile lights up his face.

'Take off your blouse,' he
instructs.

As he continues to stroke
my leg, he watches as I undo one button at a time enjoying the
blaze in his eyes. So much for not being good enough and not being
his type. He's at my mercy. I shrug off the blouse and allow it to
fall.

Getting to his feet, he
kisses me lightly. Lip upon lip, barely touching with feather light
kisses. My breathing is becoming rapid as I try and keep my
composure. Then he bends his head and with his tongue kisses and
licked my nipples until they are pushing against the lace of my
bra. Quickly, the bra is undone and joins the blouse on the floor.
His hands hold mine in place on the desk, preventing me from
touching him.

I try to push my groin
closer to his, but he's keeping his distance. I need to feel him
near me, inside me, but he's refusing, for now at least. One hand
leaves mine and lifting up my skirt his fingers enters
me.

'Harry,' I gasp
out.

As his fingers move slowly
inside me, his tongue on my nipples match their rhythm and I'm
pressed so far into the edge of the desk it's starting to hurt. One
finger and then two, then three caress my insides and I'm rocking
slightly to meet them. They feel so good, but it's not enough. I
need more. He lifts his head and his eyes are dark with arousal as
they meet mine.

'Can you feel how wet you
are for me,' he murmurs.

'Yes,' I barely
breathe.

'I want to taste
you.'

Travelling down my body,
he pulls down my panties and replaces his fingers with his mouth.
With one hand, I pull slightly on his blond curls. He's relentless
with his tongue and with a restrained cry I orgasm in his
mouth.

My body still shudders as
he hoists me onto the desk. He slowly unbuckles his belt and pops
the button of his trousers. He rests his hands on the zipper where
is erection is begging to be released, but his hand doesn't move.
He lifts his eyes to mine. This is the tease and he's now pulling
the strings.

'Maybe you don't deserve
this,' he says thickly. 'After all it's not a nice thing to come
here and seduce me.'

My heart jumps for the
briefest moments, before I realise it's a game he's
playing.

'You could say it's
naughty,' he continues. 'It's a mighty shame we no longer have the
cane.'