Capture. Flora Dain

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СКАЧАТЬ he reached down to my still throbbing gap.

      ‘Open up. We’re not done. Take me fully.’

      His fingers invaded again, gently probing all my tender, swollen places and sparking more flames as his intimate, persistent caresses found my money-spot. The angle was awkward but his low voice worked on me like a drug. He pressed harder, easing the pressure now and then to give my swollen folds time to breathe, then caressing again, one finger slipping deep into me and finding a place just inside that I’d no idea was so sensitive. He squeezed gently with his whole hand and I cried out as I convulsed again, another climax rippling through me like the sea.

      I glanced up to see if he’d noticed but that, too, was a mistake.

      He was keeping count.

      His brief, triumphant grin warned me my order was being fulfilled to the letter and I faced yet another trial of pleasure.

      ‘Now get up on your hands and knees again. This time we’ll treat each other.’

      He sounded amused as he edged me into position for my final treat. And now I felt the full force of his hunger as he lay below me, feasting on my still pulsing riches, while his gleaming, purplish beast jutted into my face for its quid pro quo.

      I obliged eagerly, hungry for him, muscles rippling with need as his busy tongue searched out my still tingling places and teased me to my final surrender. And when we finally came it was at almost the same instant.

      I hung over him, spent and content, feeling him soften slowly, just as I was pulsing with happy spasms, fading away into a warm glow, until he slid out from under me, gathered me in his arms and folded me up in sleep.

      He wakes later and we start over. This time we take it slow, real slow, and my orgasms are gentle and frequent while he takes his time and loses himself in my pleasure.

      As a final reward I have to lean over him and let him taste me, his tongue eager, his hunger firing yet another massive climax just as I thought I was sated and replete. To ensure my focus he barks out short, sharp commands as he does it, making me pose with my hands high over my head so he can enjoy the view.

      And to my amazement it works, the harsh instructions slicing into my lazy arousal like cheesewire, making me ache, making me strain – and making me hotter than hot.

      Wolfe Time just gets better.

      * * *

      The beach is a different place this morning, light and sunny. No seaweed draped on my boat today, but the tide is almost at its highest point. And right on cue I hear it, a low, juddering boom. The sound was terrifying in the fog. Now the sun’s out and the light dances off the rippling blue water of Darnley’s bay, but somehow the noise is just as spooky. It sounds like the hollow groan of some ailing giant.

      I haul my boat down to the water, slip the painter over a rock, stow my things and a powerful torch safely out of reach of the splashing wavelets and start the engine.

      It fires first time and I set off round the bay. I find it quickly, a low cave right on the waterline under the cliff overhang. It looks exciting and mysterious, the roof low over the rollers that surge inside. As I cut the engine to edge into it I hear the boom again, deafening in here.

      It could be the waves. I edge along the rough rock wall and flash the torch. The waves are pounding at the far end, underneath a low ridge. As I look up a movement catches my eye and I feel my heart race. A seal? I’ve heard there are some around here, but I’ve yet to see one.

      I flash the torch again but there’s nothing there. Did I imagine it? Was it just a reflection off the water? Patches of light dance all over the walls as sunlight streaming in at the mouth of the cave bounces off the wavelets I’m stirring up. It’s definitely creepy in here …

      ‘Hello? Anybody there?’ My voice echoes horribly all around me, drowned by another deep, hollow boom.

      The cave troll, whatever or wherever he is, must be having a ball. But now I’m puzzled. The torch shows nothing but bare rock walls – no seals, no movement other than the constant waves and the light reflecting off them across the ragged seaweed fronds and the high, towering cleft that makes up the ceiling.

      There’s nowhere to tie up so finally I head back round the headland to the beach to take stock. Soon it will be lunchtime, and Darnley will arrive. I may even persuade him to come out and hunt some troll with me.

      As I nose the little boat into the small cove I’m careful to avoid the jagged rocks at the edges of the beach. When I finally hit the shingle I reach for my small bottle of water and drink deep, my mind still busy.

      Why’s Chet so scared? Scared enough to go to all the trouble to ride over and tell me …

      At that moment I glance up for the first time since I landed and I stand very still. My trainers dig deep into the shingle as the waves just fail to reach me, their reach lower with each thrust of the turning tide.

      I’m staring at a pair of leather-clad legs. They’re propping up their owner as he leans back on a rock, his upper part just out of sight.

      I’ve got company.

      There’s no such thing as trolls …

      I feel tiny hairs rise all over my back as the legs straighten up and their owner appears from behind his rock.

      ‘Hi, El. Long time no see.’

      It’s worse than a troll. Far worse.

       It’s Ryan Mitchell, my ex.

      Weirdly, now also Freda’s ex. He screwed us both, in both senses, till we got wise to him. Then back in the summer he very nearly screwed my chances with Darnley.

      He’s the last person I thought I’d see here.

      He’s the last person I ever wanted to see again.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      ‘You don’t look too pleased to see me, El. Easy Street suits you, huh?’

      I glare at him. ‘What do you want, Ryan? And be warned, there’s surveillance everywhere out here. If you try anything, Darnley will know. And so will about five hundred other people.’

      I should know, I think bitterly.

      Ryan puts his head on one side and tries his trademark shy smile. Out here in the sunshine, with his loose fair hair and his easy, weak mouth, it should give him a kind of shallow charm. But for me he long ago lost his appeal, and that was well before his crazy patent scam back in the summer nearly finished things between Darnley and me. He followed through with pap-shots of us at Camp Akela and a mystery photo from Lydia’s past. The family’s still reeling.

      ‘You must be crazy, coming here.’ I hold his gaze. Does he know how much trouble he caused last year? Darnley was already close to the brink. Ryan’s efforts might have failed but they sure stirred the mix.

      To my fury he laughs. ‘Chill, hon. His cameras can’t see us here. We’re in the lee of the СКАЧАТЬ