Page 130 of Gates of Tartarus

I double-over, giggling, as Kavi almost runs out of the room, then I whirl around to grin at Emlyn. “What next? Morris Dancing? Heyup, chuck! Doobity do.” I pretend to twirl an imaginary ribbon in the air while kicking out with my foot.

Emlyn’s face is alight with laughter.

I don’t know why, but I’m practically drunk on giddiness. “No? Scottish dancing, then. Deedlee-dee!” I sing, as I start to skip around the room. “Oh, step we gaily on we go!” I bellow. I land in front of Emlyn. “Come on. Dance with me!” I pout.

Emlyn shakes his head. “Not on your life.”

“Hah. Spoilsport! Well, don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” and I close my eyes and start to waltz, humming loudly. Then I give up and just wave my hands in the air and spin, lost in my own little world.

A few minutes later, the gritty opening bars of ACDC’sYou Shook Me All Night Longring out from the stereo. I stop and open my eyes to see Emlyn standing in front of me, hand extended. “It’s not a waltz, but it’s what’s on Radio 2. Care to dance?”

All of a sudden, I’m feeling bashful. But excitement’s sparking through my veins, little electric currents running up and down my skin, and I put my hand shyly in his. It’s warm and sure, and he pulls me firmly to him.

The song’s not really for dancing, so we just sway and shuffle on the spot. I don’t care. I’m plastered to him, his hand on my lower back keeping me close, with my head against his chest. We move, slowly at first, back and forth, then twisting together as the tempo crescendos. I can hear his heartbeat pounding, and I push myself into him, as if we could somehow share one skin. His breath hitches; I can feel him hardening against me, and I find I’m trembling all over. Then his hand is lifting my chin, and I open to him like a flower to the sun. He brings his mouth down on mine, demanding entry, sweeping in. And he’s angling my head, just so, taking control, devouring my lips, and it’s all I can do to stay upright. I twine my leg around his jean-clad one, and cling. Emlyn trails a line of biting kisses down my neck, and I gasp and shudder at the sting but whimper when he stops, only to moan when he takes my mouth again. He backs me towards the couch, and I go willingly, falling into the cushions as his body comes down over mine, covering me. I can’t breathe, but I don’t care, because Emlyn’s breathing for me. And now he’s pushing up my sweater, and I color, but his breath hitches again. And he pulls down my bra, freeing my breasts, and I look at him as he stares intently at the soft, white flesh. “Beautiful,” he whispers, and he lowers his head. I groan as he circles the tip of one breast with his tongue before sucking deeply, until the peak is stiff and pink. Then I cry out, brokenly, as he turns to the other. I run my fingers through his hair, the strands soft as silk, holding on, as he carefully, patiently, sets about driving me to a fever pitch, until my thoughts fracture and I can only feel, fathoms-deep tenderness welling inside me to war with moon-bright lust. When my nipples are almost sore, his head comes up, eyes gleaming, to find my mouth again, and he kisses me, wet and deep. I twist, reaching down for him, but he catches my hand. “Patience.”

He undoes the buttons of my cardigan, one by one, fingers alighting gently on my skin, and peels the soft cashmere away. And I’m helping him shrug off my bra, lifting one arm, then the other. Now I am bare from the waist up, and I look at Emlyn shyly through half-lowered lashes. “God, you’re beautiful,” he repeats. He curls a strand of hair behind my ear, tracing the shell, letting his fingers trail across my throat, through the hollow between my breasts, down to circle my navel, and smiles. It’s tender and sweet and utterly captivating.

“Your turn,” I whisper, reaching for him again, and this time, he lets me tug at the bottom of his crewneck sweater, pulling it up. In one swift movement, he whips it over the top of his head and tosses it to the floor. I feast my eyes on him, from sculpted stomach to lightly muscled chest and arms and up to the seraphim planes of his face. We gaze at each other for a moment, breath almost still, then, not looking away, he drops his hands to my waistband, unfastening my jeans and tugging them down, along with my hip-huggers. I am naked before him, laid out like an offering, and I blush.

“Your body was made to be worshiped,” he murmurs, snow-leopard eyes roaming intently over me. They’ve lightened almost to silver and lock on mine as he bends, dropping a kiss to my belly. I watch as his head dips lower, lips flickering across my skin, leaving frost-blue fire in their wake, before coming to rest between my thighs. Then I arch into his mouth as he tastes me, boldly, firmly. One long lick, and another, and my eyes flutter closed. Then I can only gasp, quivering, head thrashing brokenly against the cushions, while he sates himself, tongue darting between my folds, nuzzling the delicate tissue. And I can feel myself begin to fragment, skin, bone, and sinew evanescing into incandescent sparks. He sweeps up to my now-aching clit and laps, hands cupping my bottom, lifting me to him as if I’m the finest of delicacies, and my fists clench, nails imprinting in skin, body taut with anticipation. And all the while he watches me carefully. When he takes the nub between his teeth and flicks out with his tongue, I am undone.

White noise, the roar of the surf, the world in a seashell. Emlyn’s hands are on my waist, lifting me. I am on my knees, hands braced against the back of the couch, back arched, ready, waiting. A whisper of sensation across my thighs. And now he’s entering me, slowly, agonizingly slowly, so that I feel every inch as he presses forward. Greedy, I try to push back against him; he slaps my bottom lightly: “Behave.” And I shiver all over, like a mare scenting danger on a salt-wind. My flesh parts as he pushes into me, languidly, as if to savor every moment; then he’s driving himself home and I hear him make a low, guttural sound. A moment of absolute stillness, and I feel him throb, where he’s seated deep inside me. “Maela,” he whispers. “I… You…” I shudder at the sound of his voice, and his cock pulses again. Then he’s pulling out, almost to the tip, and I utter a wordless protest, but he’s surging forward. Again and again and again, advancing and retreating in time to my stifled moans, demanding I take all his length, over and over. I pant, dazed, as my body tightens, every nerve ending tingling in anticipation, and he grasps my ankles, hooking them around the backs of his thighs. He sinks impossibly deeper and circles his hips, once, twice, and I cry out as my body ripples. Emlyn groans, “Can’t… get… enough… Never… enough!” and speeds up, hands anchoring my hips as he begins to slam frantically into me. It’s too much all of a sudden, too much, and I try to crawl away; but he rears back, taking me with him, palms cupping my breasts, holding me firmly in place as he continues to thrust relentlessly. I turn my head, seeking his lips, and am lost, lost in the sensations, to the smell of his skin, and the heat of his mouth, and his ragged breath in my ear. I whimper, core throbbing, close again, so close. He moves his mouth to my neck, growling “precious girl.” Then he plunges forward, biting down on the hollow between my neck and shoulder, as he empties into me. And I shatter into iridescence.

Riding the Waves

Tuesday, 4 December – Kailani

Jonah drives me into town this morning in my little Mini, as I’m not quite up to focused concentration yet. When we arrive, he parks and insists upon walking me to the front desk. I don’t know the receptionist today – she must be new – and she isveryfirm about not letting me back to see Elizabeth, motioning for us to sit and wait while she calls to the back. I see the moment the phone rings through – her face changes instantly, apologies written in her eyes even before she speaks.

“I’m so sorry, Ms. Reed. I didn’t realize… You’re not on the list… but of course, that’s not your fault… I’ll remember for next time…” She stammers, tripping over her words. “Ms. Agnew will be out in a moment.”

Jonah shakes his head and smiles, amused. “Your name wields power here, hunh?” he asks teasingly under his breath, and I shrug in uncomfortable confusion.

“Not normally…” I begin but fade to a stop as Fallon shows up, looking flustered.

“Ms. Reed!” she says, fidgeting with her tablet, little frown lines between her eyes, her clipped, British syllables different somehow, lengthened and rounded out. “It’s nowt orfen someone gets the jump on me! Did you have an appointment?”Orfen… her normal accent would say something like “off-tin”, and I cock my head, trying to pin down the difference. She notices my curiosity, and something flashes across her face, before she smiles tightly, uncomfortably, lips pressed together.

“Sorry,” I say in response. “You just sounded… different, I suppose, for a minute there.”

The smile changes, though I’m not sure how exactly, and she shrugs slightly. “Yes, well. I had some dental work done, so perhaps that’s it.” Perhaps. Except she’s back to her usual short, tight words, the roundness gone completely. I don’t have time to mull it over, as I hear Elizabeth’s Katherine-Hepburn-like voice sound from down the hall, exasperation clear in her clipped tone.

“You know she doesn’t need an appointment, Fallon. Really, what has been going on with you of late?”

Fallon tries but fails to smooth out her face, eyes flat, lips tight as she turns to Elizabeth. “Just trying to keep your schedule straight, Ms. Cole.”

Elizabeth pauses, watching Fallon through curious eyes, then turns to me a moment later.

“Ah, Kailani!” she says warmly, smiling. “It’s good to see you.” Her face falls briefly before she puts concerted and obvious effort into maintaining her smile. “Especially after the events of last weekend. Howareyou?” she asks, concern clear in her voice. “You’re up and about, so that speaks to something. But I’m worried about you. And being a bad hostess – please, come back to my office and sit down with me for a bit.” She motions to the stairs, then pauses. “Officer Shotridge. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you. Would you be alright sparing Kailani for a few? One of my assistants can escort you to the main cafe, or, if you’re more comfortable, can bring you to the executive cafe on my floor. It’s just down the hall from my office?”

Jonah hesitates, then nods. “The executive cafe would be fine. Thank you.”

Elizabeth motions to a hovering woman, who takes Jonah toward the stairs, and then walks me down the hall to a small elevator, trailed by Fallon. “I feel, perhaps, like you’re like a newborn deer right now, and that stairs may be a bit much, judging by your color.” When we arrive at her office, she indicates the chair in front of her, and I sit heavily. “Fallon, run down the hall and get Kailani a coffee and pastry plate, please. There should be something suitable in the cafe.”

Fallon gives Elizabeth a look that’s difficult to interpret, especially with my shields held so tightly, and says in her crisp way, “I can call down for refreshments if you’d like, Ms. Cole.”

Elizabeth rolls her eyes at me as though we’re sharing a joke and says shortly, “Come, come, Fallon. It will take you all of two minutes and you’ll be back. Calling the cafe downstairs will be at least fifteen, even if they rush.”

Frowning, Fallon snaps her ever-present tablet shut with an audible click and staysjustthis side of polite when she says, “Of course, Ms. Cole. Ms. Reed, just cream? Is that correct?”

---