that she’d never want another man again. He stopped her hand with his, his voice was guttural, hoarse. ‘Maggie…stop unless you want this to be over very quickly.’
He moved her back to the bed, tumbling her down. She watched as he came over her on two strong arms. She moved back to allow him room and then he was running his hands down, over the peaks and hollows, lingering, sometimes tracing with his mouth where his hands had been and then his mouth hovered over her belly button, his tongue flicking out to taste.
His hands reached her knickers and slowly but surely started to pull them down. They dropped on to the floor. Now she was bared completely and she felt Caleb nudge her legs open with his body. She felt a breath there, where the molten core of her was. She couldn’t look and flung an arm over her face in a fit of shyness. His hands came under her buttocks, tilting her slightly, and then she felt his tongue exploring, leaving a wet, hot trail as it crept up one inner thigh, then the other, before spreading her even further, opening her up so that his mouth…and tongue could seek and find that rock-hard small piece of flesh that no other man had ever touched with such intimacy.
When his tongue found it, circled it, sucked…she thought she’d die…and then his tongue moved down…and entered her. She tensed and arched her back. Her other hand gripped the sheets. Her breathing was so fractured and tortured she thought she might pass out. How could he do this…make her feel like this…so liquid and wanton and…? She couldn’t stop herself—the spiral was building, like a coil tightening; his tongue was harder, thrusting deeper, until finally she was pushed to the point of no return and she came, her whole body bucking in the aftershock. Her arm was still over her face; she was too mortified to look and felt tears under her eyelids at the intensity of emotion she was feeling. She could feel Caleb move up over her sensitive body and he brought her arm down. She blinked away the tears before he could see them.
He kissed her so deeply that she could taste herself on him. He was drunk on the scent of her, the taste of her, the feel of her and couldn’t wait any longer. After slipping on protection, he fought the urge to thrust in so deep and far that he’d have immediate relief. She was looking at him now, an intense look of concentration on her face which made him feel a fierce tenderness, but he was in the grip of something so powerful that he couldn’t dwell on it…or question it.
‘Don’t close your eyes, Maggie.’
She shook her head. She couldn’t look away even if she wanted to. She felt him push against her slick folds and lifted her hips to him. He brought a hand under her back, arching her to him, and pushed in further. And further. Her eyes opened wide at the exquisite sensation. He was so big…but she could feel her muscles taking him in, and then he thrust again. The entire hard length of him was within her tight embrace. She still had that look of concentration on her face, as though it was all she wanted to do—give him this pleasure. The force of how it made him feel rippled through his body.
Her legs instinctively came around his buttocks, her hands on his shoulders as he pulled out before filling her again. Her eyes on his, their gazes locked, with steady thrusts Caleb brought Maggie into another universe. Where she forgot time and space, her name, everything. He waited until her body convulsed around his and then, with beads of sweat on his brow, gave in to his own earth-shattering capitulation.
As he curled his body around Maggie’s, Caleb felt for the first time in his life as if he’d finally come home.
What a ridiculous thought…
But, more importantly, finally…she was his.
Maggie took the cup of tea she’d just made and walked over to the huge window in the sitting room. Hardly seeing the view, her thoughts inward, she felt…curiously still…and empty. As if something monumental had shifted within her. She was very much afraid she’d never be the same. And she knew she’d compartmentalised it somehow, put it into some corner where she wouldn’t have to deal with it…just yet. Her whole body ached, muscles protesting if she moved too quickly, and when she’d looked in the mirror earlier she’d been shocked at the bruises on her skin. She blushed then as she remembered raking Caleb’s back with her nails and wondered if she’d left him with marks too.
She took a sip of tea, feeling the hot liquid go down, warming her insides, which felt curiously cold. Maybe this was just her defence mechanism kicking in. All she was willing to acknowledge was that he had made her take leave of her senses and that the two of them had ignited a passion that scared her with its intensity. And it had started a craving ache that she knew wouldn’t be sated until she saw Caleb again.
The phone rang, piercing the air, and she jumped. Little fiery shivers of sensation raced along her nerve-endings as she already anticipated his voice on the other end. Images of last night flooded her head. Thank God he couldn’t see her.
‘Hello?’
‘There’s a courier on the way around for—’
‘Okay, fine.’
‘See you later, then.’
‘Fine.’
She cut him off. Didn’t want him to say it. She knew exactly what he was talking about. Their conversation couldn’t have been more sterile. He was talking about the contract. In the headiness of last night, when he’d swept her so effortlessly into that vortex of need and want and pleasure, she’d forgotten all about it. Only to wake this morning to an empty bed and the contract beside her. She smiled grimly—that just about summed up what was going on. He’d signed his part and left a curt note:
Countersign and I’ll send over a courier. Consider it done.
So it was done. Her mother had her house back…and, in seven weeks and a bit, Maggie would be free to walk away. Curiously, the thought didn’t fill her with the elation she’d thought it would. Was she really so pathetic? She jerked away from the phone and the window and went to rinse out the cup. She found a pen, signed the contract and put it in an envelope Caleb had left behind. Then she waited for the courier downstairs. She almost thrust it at him when he arrived, more distraught than she would have imagined or thought she’d be.
OVER the following days the packages started to arrive. Velvet boxes that held stunning jewels. Usually with a note, nothing endearing, something curt like: For tonight or This’ll go with something black. Maggie stopped being stunned and saying thank you because Caleb didn’t seem to like it. He told her he expected her to wear them…much like she’d wear a designer dress. As if he were just kitting her out. And with each piece, whether it was a bracelet or a necklace or earrings, she felt cheaper and cheaper. More and more humiliated.
As much as she tried, she just found it so hard to put on all those jewels and parade around like some gilded lily. It made her uncomfortable…uneasy. Went against all her moral and political sensibilities. If he were giving them to her from a place of genuine pleasure, in her, then that would be different. But that fantasy belonged in a world that didn’t exist.
She had to realise, now that she was sharing his bed…this was his usual modus operandi. She was no different and she’d be a fool to dream otherwise. On the fifth day, after the fourth night in his bed, when she received a priceless diamond bracelet, it finally drove her from the apartment, the sense of rising panic too much. She walked…for hours, for miles. And eventually ducked into an old cinema in an effort to block out the thoughts that hounded her brain like whirling dervishes.
