Your Red Always (15 page)

“It well and truly fucked that cat up. One day maybe.” He winks. “First, you need to come with me. I require your assistance.”
Liz, prepare yourself for round two.

He guides my by the hand into the bedroom on his right. This one I know is his. The silky sheets, black damask wall coverings and the silver, remind me of our first time. This bed though, is more in keeping with the house. A carved queen size bed, with wrote iron inserts. 

My chest inflates as he uses a remote to turn on an inbuilt fire. He leads me to a door, opening it to reveal a wet-room. He turns on a switch, and the ambience transform to candlelight as water sprays from a large chrome showerhead.

He closes the door and consumes me with that solid sexy gaze. I lunge at him, powerless to keep any influence over my restraint. He takes my arms, and rams me under the hot water. I lift my legs and my wet jeans cling tightly around him. My backs against the slick grey tiles, as he buffs his pelvis against mine for non-penetrating sex. I grip hold of the showerhead, as he rips off my blouse, and kisses my breasts insatiably. 

I wheeze deeply for air, crashing my feet to the floor. With wet hair stuck to my face, I groan with sexual urgency. I cleave his shirt over his shoulders. The water cascades over his body, like a steamy tropic waterfall scene. This so painful. My need to have him is excruciating. He gnaws at my cheek, then spins me with force, so my face is pressed upon the tiles.

“I want to fuck you from behind, Elizabeth,” he growls low in my ear. “I want it hard… can you do that for me.”

Holy hell! I gasp, nodding a big fat yes, because I cannot speak.

The stream beats down on my head, and I need it. Because even this boiling water is cool in comparison with my flaming body. He kicks my heels apart with aggression, yanks down my pants, and pushes his body into mine.

“Oh shit!” He’s there, exactly where I need him.

He moves in and out of me, accurate and hard. It’s so sharp and deep this way. I call out his name as his rod plunges into me.

He takes my hand that is scraping at the tiles and slides it high, interweaving his fingers tight between mine.

“You.” He pounds me. “Are.” Again. “Incredible.” His nose is against my ear, grunting in carnal leisure.

I close my eyes, clenching his hand as tight as my tendons will allow as he takes me over the edge. I need him to go harder. I want to feel pain. I growl with each fierce thrust and push back on cue with every strike he inflicts me with. The water runs down between our clashing skins and the sex sounds make me even hotter for him. My chest knots and legs quiver, as my first orgasm torrents like the water we’re in. I cry out in unadulterated fulfilment, as I flow into the ultimate climax. My walls throb, feeling every inch of his erection. It’s fucking amazing!

“I want to bite you, Elizabeth.” He plunges and grits, with his teeth pressing on my neck.

“Do it!”

I feel his open lips brushing on my skin as he inhales me deep.

“Fuck… me,” he howls out, grasping at my hips.

He stops, and embraces me tight, experiencing his eruptive finale. I can’t breathe. I have to pant to steady my raging heart.

“God Elizabeth… what are you doing to me,” he wheezes into my back.

Could this not get any better? He’s doing his best to make me feel emotions I told myself not to for a long time. Because I’ve always known that most men are only after one thing. Not that I’m frigid. I do have urges; just not acted on them. Take Nathan for instance. He will follow his dick to any short skirt or bit of leg. I’m not saying I want commitment. But jeez, sex that blows your mind is a must. And I’m getting that with Adrien… and more.

  
 
Chapter 12: The Abyss

He once told me he didn’t need much sleep, and boy, he was being serious. His outstanding stamina is that of an Olympian. He has given me the best night of my life, and I bet I’m now familiar with nearly all Kama Sutra positions.

Sprawled out in his bed with my eyes closed, I search for him with my fingertips. The empty sheets crinkle up into the palm of my hand. I open my heavy eyelids, to see he’s not beside me. Using my elbows, I rise upright with an Ouch and a sigh. My muscles are so stiff and achy, due to spending the night in the gym of lust. But I’m not one bit bothered by the pain. It was more than worth it. It is a pleasant reminder of all the naughty things we did together.

I clear my messy hair out of my face and yawn, wondering where my master has gone with my Sunday morning wakeup call
.
With an exhilarated grin, I lumber to the edge of the bed, entertaining myself with sensory flashbacks. I’m as light as helium, and so calm. 

Standing, I swathe the bed sheet around my back, trudging to the blackout curtains. With one hand holding the sheet, I tweak the curtain a little to see a light dusting of snowfall outside. My eyes wrinkle; it’s far too bright for me yet. 

I sweep Adrien’s shirt up off the black leather chesterfield chair, letting the bed sheet fall to the floor. I tug his fragrance over my shoulders, sniffing his collar jubilantly. My hairs pretty tangled. I could have a shower and condition it, but I must go and find Adrien first. Who knows, he may like to join me. I tuck my long knotty locks behind my ears, and head for the door.

Dammit. That curiosity has caught me. I’m at the top of the stairs and my eyes fall back onto that locked door at the end of the hall. I will see what’s in there before this trip is over. It’s going to play on my mind when we get back if I don’t. 

With a bounce in my step I descend the stairs, picking up a rather delicious odour. I move by the front door, and see Adrien in the kitchen. Hell, he looks hot, wearing only his grey joggers, pottering around in his bare feet. His naked torso has made my morning already. 

“Hey,” he smiles sinfully.

My forehead crumples, perplexed. He’s wearing shades and making me breakfast. It’s quite a bizarre thing to witness. But he does suffer migraines. Perhaps we’re both paying for last night’s love fest. He has a headache, and I’m being punished with sore weakened muscles.  

I walk across to him with a grin from lobe to lobe as he ogles, shaking a copper frying pan.

“Morning.” My smile turns into a cavernous yawn and an uncontrollable stretch; not at all attractive.

“You’re very pleasing on the eye in that shirt.” He places the pan back on the smallest ring of an eight ring hob. “I’ve plenty of them to choose from.” He gazes over the rim of his shades.

I chuckle as he slides a large mug of coffee before me, and I need it. I wrap my hands around the heat, trying not to turn to mush over my unspoiled view of him.

“Thanks.” I take a sip. “Have you taken anything for that?” I ask, referring to his headache. “I find a cool towel helps… and maybe some sleep.”

He smiles taking off the shades, then curves over to push against the granite so his physique becomes tense. Okay, his arms, his chest, and abdomen, have now totally thrown me off course. My mouth is agape, and I don’t want food. I want him right now, on this shiny surface.

He grimaces, as if it’s painful for him to blink. Jeez, I’m so selfish.
Stop thinking with what’s between your legs Liz. Your sex god is in pain. 

I get up from the stool and feel his head with the back of my hand to see how warm he is. He has no temperature; he’s as cool as always. He laughs, and flicks on the remote that tints the glass windows.

“Stop fretting.” He holds my wrists. “I’m absolutely fine… used to these now.” He picks up the pan. “So, scrambled eggs and bacon good for you?”

Wow-wow-wow. Is he really Mr perfect? I can’t help being all dreamy. I know it’s overflowing from me.

“Yes… that’s fine.”
Shit. Stop sniggering Liz.

He tips crispy bacon and eggs onto a rectangular plate, staring with a low brow. “You find the sight of me cooking amusing?”

No, not amusing. More unexpected and wonderful.
Suck it all in Liz, this is about as good as it gets.

“So” I pick up a rasher and nibble. “You sleep well?”

He leans over again and my eyes drink in his body. He’s the substance of my view, and is so much better than food. If we’re going to have a mature tête-a-tête, get to know each other, I need to stop my eyes scanning every inch of his skin.

“I rest. Never sleep,” he says. “Besides, I was quite distracted by the strange sounds you were making.” 

Oh god, I wasn’t snoring like a hog next to him was I? I narrow my eyes as the flush rushes over my cheeks.

“It wasn’t bad, Elizabeth,” he snickers. “It was just the odd charming squeak and moan. It was very sweet.”

Sweet is not the way I’d describe sleeping noises. I myself, hate any noise while trying to get some shuteye. It has to be still, dark, and silent. So to hear that I’m a night time squeaker, is mortifying.

“Sorry for keeping you up,” I shame.

“Stop it… I told you I don’t need sleep,” he says, dropping the burnt crusted pan into the sink.

I notice the small portion on my plate, and the mess he’s made in the kitchen. He’s had everything out of the cupboards. There’s even a bag of rice and a packet of herbs that has been spilt across the hobs. Eggs shells, a dozen at least left on the worktop, and a pool of milk next the kettle.

I finish the rasher of bacon and take my plate to the waste disposal unit. “What are your plans for Thursday?”

“Thursday?”

“Christmas… have you forgot?”

I suppose it also seems irrelevant to me now. Who needs Christmas anyhow? I have Adrien Knight, and he’s a lifetime of Christmases to me, all rolled into one. 

“I don’t do Christmas.” His entire being has suddenly gone all miserable. “Don’t celebrate a god that likes suffering.”

“Okay,” I sigh, due to his gloom. “What about your family… do you not see them over the festive period?”

Even the bah-humbugs of this world can’t escape it. The dreaded family visit. The once a year occurrence, where no one has a thing to say until they are all tanked up on wine. And with that, all grievances come to the surface.

“My real parents died… a long time ago,” he mumbles so I have to stretch my ears. “My adoptive parents have also passed away.”

Oh crap.
Foot in it Liz
. I should keep my big trap shut. If he wanted to discuss his family, he would have brought it up himself.

“Sorry,” I cringe.

“It’s fine. I’m over it.” He pauses for too long, as though his grief has swallowed him up. “It’s something I never really speak of.”

The sound of tense nothingness has took hold. I would open my mouth, if it wasn’t for the fear of my foot getting well and truly stuck between my teeth again. I hum out, eyes aimed on the garden.

“Will you be partaking in the usual festivities?” He asks as though he’s managed to shake off the dark feeling, sitting on one of the stools across from me.

Oh god Liz. You should have choked on that bacon
. My Christmases are well, let’s just say, loud, garish, and unavoidable.

“Hmm… the usual.” 

“Your parents?” He stares, waiting for the full shameful programme I have to endure. “I get the feeling you want me to be quiet on this subject… but I won’t,” he sniggers.

A little growl escapes from my mouth. I have to tell him. I’m shit at lying, so I can’t just make something up.

“Okay, my mum, her name is Ruby. She has the whole house looking like a Santa’s grotto, and has me wearing some stupid reindeer jumper.” I blow out as he chuckles. “Her and my step Dad Geoff, love Christmas.”

“Step Dad?” He enquires.

“Yep. Mum has married a grand total of three times. Poor Geoff has hung on in there for the record.”

“What happened with your dad?” 

Why is he probing me on this topic I’d rather not discuss? I guess he did just confide in me about his parents. I have to. God. I have to tell him now don’t I?

“Well,” my tone stretches. “My dad cheated, so Mum kicked him out. Then she went on some women empowerment course, quit her job as a school secretary, and opened a sex shop exclusively for women in the town centre of Richmond. So I’d like this subject to end now, please.” There. It’s all out, and fast. Done and dusted.

His eyes have expanded to full range, and his grin is one of, ‘
who’d have thought, Liz’s mum owns a sex shop
.’ 

He doesn’t know the half of it. I will spend most of the day with her offering me tips on how to hook a man. How to sexually satisfy him and myself. And how to empower my body and mind, using a battery operated frigging banana. She got me one last year. A brand new purple rampant rabbit. I opened the damn thing in front of the whole family. Needless to say it was immediately handed back to her. And she was told then, if she ever does anything like that again, it would be the last Christmas I ever spend with her. She agreed and told me I need to relax. Even tried to give me the rabbit back.

I turn on the tap and begin to swill the plates. Now with the dread of that upcoming day looming over me.

Adrien arches across to me and turns off the faucet. “Eh, that can wait. My caretaker will deal with it when we’ve gone.”

He’s made me cross. He made the mess, and I really don’t mind clearing it up. Just for a second I give him my angry face.

“That’s not a very nice attitude to have.” I twist the tap back on.

He turns it off again. “Would you like me to tell you how much her salary is for looking after this place?” His eyes are stern, and voice stark. I like it. “She’ll be the top paid cleaner in this country, so leave it,” he maintains. “I need you to get ready anyhow. We have exactly one hour before our slot.”

I pout at him. He’s taking me out on some kind of appointment? I study his face, but he’s not giving me anything but a wayward grin. A naughty grin I want to attack with my lips.

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“Ah-ah,” he nods, folding his arms across his delish bare chest. “Wear sensible clothing. No heels. Boots are fine. Oh, and please take this.” He holds out a tonic. 

I bite my lip and stare at him. “Hmm.” I snatch the tonic and head to the stairs.

                                                             ***

I had no idea it was so late. It is now five in the afternoon, and I’m sat in the Jeep as Adrien drives us to our mysterious date. He’s still not let on where it is we’re going. Other than the odd complacent grin, he’s keeping schtum. His attire is outdoorsy, blue jeans, brown chunky boots, V-neck black t-shirt, and grey fleece.

I focus outside. All that is visible in the headlights, is the winter crisp shrubbery lining the narrow country road. I sulk; my patience is wearing thin. I’m not used to not having any sense of control, and I don’t like it when I don’t know what’s coming my way. I blow out loud. He’s going to have to give me some clue soon. 

We turn left, into some woodland country car park. Is this it? Are we going on some night time hiking trip. Or are we going to stay in the car, and maybe do something naughty? Oh I do hope it’s the latter. 

I see a charming white building, similar to a big cottage with warm lights radiating from the windows. Adrien unclips his belt. It must be a cosy country pub, where we’ll have a nice meal by an open fire.

“Ready,” he breathes out, opening his door.

Does he have some kind of phobia of pubs? He’s acting rather jittery. 

He stands outside, adjusting up his jeans. I get out to notice we’re the only car parked here. Well, we’ll have the whole place to ourselves, how wonderful. 

He makes his way to the door before me, quietly. There’s a sign above the window: Killiecrankie Visitors Centre. That’s not a very good name for a public house. He waits for me to arrive at his side, then grabs my hand with a reassuring grip. I’m feeling unsettled, as he squeezes my fingers.

We go through a glass panel door. It’s warm, sure it is, but this is no pub. There’s a counter, postcards, and tacky gifts, like huge pencils with toggles on the end. It really is a visitor’s centre. I tug on his hand. Now it’s time for him to tell me what this is all about. He peers down at me, as I scrunch up my forehead. 

A man come out from a door behind the counter with the logo: Highland Fling, printed on his jacket. Oh, what heck is this; is he taking me for dance lessons? That is the only Highland Fling I know.
Open your mouth Liz, and shout if you have to
. If he wants me to wear some kilt, and jig around with my arms above my head, I’m out of here.

“Welcome, Mr Knight. I’m Shaun, and I’m going to be your instructor for this evening,” the guy says in a Scottish accent. “We are delighted for the first time to be able to do this in December.” He smiles at me. “The conditions are spot on. So, if you would just sign this, then we can get you kitted up.”