This Darkest Man Page 3

  “I don’t want to wait,” I told him firmly.

  He watched me for a moment, before a small smile spread over his face. “All right then. Stand up. I want you to strip naked and lie on the table.”

  “What? Here?” It was mid-morning and the sun was streaming in. I would be on display to anyone who decided to walk past.

  Taking my hand, he pulled me to my feet. “Yes, here. It’s so isolated out here that no one is going to come by, the only person who you have to be scared of,” he planted a small kiss on my lips, “is me.” He released me and stepped back. “Take your clothes off.”

  I looked out the window, of course, no one was out there and it would be highly unlikely that anyone would see me. Taking a breath, I began to undress. I pulled my t-shirt over my head, revealing my boring cotton bra, and then I shimmied out of my jeans and wished that I had worn the underwear that Erin had sent me. “And the rest,” he said gently.

  I turned my back to him as I removed my bra and then the panties. When I let them drop to my feet, I crossed my arms across my breasts. “What now?” I asked nervously.

  “Climb up on the table and lie on your back.”

  I paused for only a moment before I did so. I had never before felt so exposed as I lay flat on my back, eyes on the ceiling, hands still crossed over my breasts. Clay stood over me, and removed my arms so my breasts were revealed, then he took my legs and spread them, pushing them up so they were bent at the knees. I nearly whimpered in shock that all of me was open and on display. Clay stood between my legs.

  “That’s much better.” I almost shivered as his eyes raked over me. “Now, I want you to play with yourself.”

  My eyes widened. “What? No!”

  “Yes, Mattie. What’s the big deal? You do it when you’re alone right?” I flushed and didn’t answer, he laughed softly at that. “I want you to be comfortable with me. I’ve already seen you naked, I’ve already been inside you, felt you. I’ve made your pussy soaking wet and I’ve made you call out the most obscene things.” He gently took my hand and pulled it down between my legs. “You have no secrets from me. I want to watch you make yourself cum. I’ll wait here all day if I have to so you may as well get started.”

  His words were already turning me on, and I wanted to touch myself there. Hesitantly, I started to stroke myself with one hand, and the effects were almost instantaneous. With my other hand I touched my breast and pinched at my nipple, imagining that it was him. Even so, this was still beyond embarrassing. I kept my eyes trained on the ceiling as my hips began to move in response to my own touch. I squeezed my nipple hard as the first tremor went through me. I thought of Clay calling me sexy and desirable, of him slipping inside me and squeezing my breasts tightly…

  Nothing got in the way. Not the hard table beneath me or the thought that someone may peer in the window. That risk actually turned me on more, but first and foremost was the knowledge that Clay stood above me, watching and appraising. I moaned and gasped as I came. The orgasm was almost electric in its power. It was nothing like the ones I had given myself in the past in dark rooms with locked doors. This surpassed everything. At some stage, I had closed my eyes and as I came back to myself, I opened them to find Clay staring down at me. I expected to find his customary smile or smirk, but instead, he looked serious. He bent down and kissed me on my lips, and I hungrily accepted his tongue into my mouth, wanting more and more of him.

  When he drew away, I heard myself moan with disappointment, but then he said, “Now it’s my turn.” He moved between my legs and lowered his head down to where I had just pleasured myself. Gentle laps between my slick folds turned more urgent, and his mouth closed over my clit as he sucked it into his mouth.

  “Fuck!” I hardly ever swore, but right now Clay was sending me higher than I’d ever been. It was nearly unbearable as he built me up and up. I gripped his hair and pulled, not sure if I wanted him to stop because I couldn’t take it anymore or because I never wanted him to stop. “Fuck,” I swore again, and then the noises coming from me turned into wails and I shook underneath his hot, wet mouth.

  “God, that was…brilliant,” I said after he had pulled away, licking at his lips and a satisfied smirk on his face. “I can’t believe that I came so fast again.” I struggled to sit up and he helped me.

  “I told you that you weren’t frigid.” He wiped my hair that was damp with sweat away from my face before kissing me. “See how good you taste?” he asked when he broke the kiss, and I had to look away in embarrassment. At that he laughed softly. “After all we’ve done and you’re still ashamed. You’re so cute.”

  My eyes darted back to him. “Cute?” My mouth twisted with distaste. “I don’t want to be cute.” I got to my knees so I was eye level with him. “I want to be hot and sexy. I want to be the seductress for once…” I want the upper hand.

  “Mattie.” He cupped my face, and I wished that I could have read the expression on his, but there was nothing there to lead me into the inner workings of his mind. “You’re so many things.” We held each other’s gaze for a few seconds, before he dropped his hand and pulled away. Then that normal grin came over his face, and I did not know if that were an act, or that seriousness that had been shown moments before was an anomaly. “Ever been on a motorcycle?”

  Chapter Four

  Clay gave me his helmet, and hesitantly I sat astride his bike, my hands gripping at his waist for dear life. I wondered if he could feel the tension and exhilaration going through me. Then we took off, slowly at first, then he accelerated and the world whooshed by. He took the corners at dangerous speeds and I might have screamed as I held onto his waist even harder. But mingling with the fear was excitement. Safe little me was along for the ride with this hot man and the feeling was…almost like sex. I felt myself getting turned on the faster we went, I nearly pouted in disappointment when we turned into the gate and toward the old house.

  “Well, did you like that?” he asked as I handed back his helmet.

  “I loved it.” I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face, and he seemed amused by that. He stepped closer and took my chin in his hand to tilt my mouth upward before he kissed me. I kissed hungrily back, feeling myself getting heated and all I wanted to do was to drag him into my bed. Horniness must have been the cure to my shyness, because I made the rare bold move of grabbing his hand and leading him toward the house.

  But before I could get him through the door, he stopped and pushed me up against the side of house. “What are you doing?”

  “Fucking you.” He kissed my neck while his hands went to my jeans. He shoved them down along with my panties and I felt a cool wind hit my skin, reminding me that I was bare and in a very, very open place. I didn’t make him stop though. Instead my hands worked to free him from his own jeans as all the while we kissed. It was violent kissing, with teeth gnashing and tongues almost wrestling together. My t-shirt was shoved up and my bra pulled down, exposing my breasts, and I yelped in surprise as he bit my nipple. Then I laughed.

  “Again,” I whispered and he obeyed, the pain sending a thrill through me. He entered me roughly, before placing his hands underneath my thighs and lifting me up while he screwed me. The hard planks cladding the house dug painfully into me, but I relished it. He pumped into me harder and harder, and I imagined people in the hills secretly watching us. I had that vision in my head as he brought me to climax.

  “Do you think that you’re sexy now?” he teased as he let me down, and I could only give him a lazy, spent smile in response as he helped me into the house.

  The rest of the day was spent naked and having sex. By that evening, I was exhausted and we sat together in the huge old slipper bath and drank more of Aunt Anna’s wine. Every muscle in me ached but the hot water soothed me, and even more comforting than that, was the feel of his hard muscled body as I leaned against him. He lathered the soap in his hands and rubbed them in hard, slow sensual strokes across my skin.

  “That feels so good,” I mur
mured as he massaged the back of my neck.

  “You’re so responsive. It’s like you’re a doll in my hands, easily manipulated.” He kneaded harder, and I nearly groaned at how wonderful it felt. “Your limbs, I mean. Your body is easily manipulated.”

  “I like you manipulating me.” I reached for my wine and sipped it. It wouldn’t be much longer until I’d fall asleep. It had been a long time since I had felt this good, if ever. It was amazing how someone I had known for such a short space of time could have this effect on me. This must have been what it was like for Erin during what she called her promiscuous period, where one night stands and brief flings were her aim and left her free and happy.

  He kissed my shoulder. “I’m glad.”

  “So when are you going to get started with your research? I’m dying to know the story behind our skeleton. If she was walled up alive, it’s such a gruesome way to die.” I shivered as I imagined her terror at dying slowly and alone.

  “I’ll take some photographs tomorrow, but I’ll need reliable Internet access for the majority of my research.”

  I smiled tightly in response. The thought of suddenly being alone again in this old house hit me like I’d been doused in cold water. If he noticed my sudden tension, he didn’t mention it. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to look at your books, any diaries, records, that sort of thing.”

  “I think there are a few things like that in the book case in the parlor.” His arms had come around me now to sit directly underneath my breasts. A sense of security came over me by being in his arms, and I know it was stupid because this would be only a brief fling, but I decided to live in the now and enjoy it. I relaxed in his arms and let the tension flow away; I wouldn’t let anything ruin this time we had together.

  “And any old jewelry or family heirlooms. They can often tell us a lot about the occupants of a house.”

  “I’ll open up the safe for you tomorrow. There’s a ton of jewelry in there.” Now that I was back to feeling relaxed again, the feeling of sleep was overtaking me again and I struggled to keep my eyes open. “You should speak to the neighbors. Everyone around here has lived here for generations and they all know each other’s business. If there are any scandals about my family, they’ll be all too happy to tell you. They hate us. When my father was arrested on fraud charges I think they threw a party.”

  Clay gave a soft laugh. “Surely not.”

  He didn’t seem to react to the fact that I had just told him that my father was a criminal. I hadn’t meant to let that slip; it must have been the wine.

  “Maybe not,” I admitted. “But they sure were nasty.” On one of the infrequent trips that I made with my Aunt into town that awful summer, I heard adults whispering as she loaded up supplies. She didn’t flinch or give any indication that she heard, and I wondered what made a person appear as if they were made of metal. I, myself, was as soft and damageable as a feather. When the other kids my age taunted me, as they often did, I would struggle to blink back the tears. Normally, their tormenting consisted of calling me a dog, or that stuck up Larsen cunt. That summer, however, they added, “Your daddy’s going to jail. He’s gonna get what he deserves,” in a singsong chant that had me shaking. He never did go to jail because he died of a heart attack before it got to court. Funnily enough, that time I didn’t cry. He was always far too busy for his uninteresting, boring daughter who wasn’t talented, social or beautiful enough, and after he died, it was simple just to think that he was on an extended business trip. My mother’s sadness, if that was even what it was, turned to hatred as she swore and cursed every day after we had to move from the penthouse to a shitty apartment and she could no longer afford her designer clothes.

  “Most people are horrible, I find,” Clay told me. “Come on; let me take you to bed.” I stood and let him wrap me in a towel and tried to forget about everything that was horrible.

  Chapter Five

  I’d never liked being in bed so much. Clay awoke me in the morning with his head buried between my legs, and that was followed by love making again and again in between gaps where I would lie in his arms and recuperate. It was late afternoon by the time we were showered and whipping around corners on his motorcycle at speeds that should have had me screaming.

  “I’m just going to use the Wi-Fi at the library and then I’ll meet you at the café,” Clay told me as he grabbed his laptop from his saddlebags. He gave me a kiss on the lips before crossing the road and leaving me alone and at the mercy of prying eyes. There weren’t many people around of course; the main road consisted of farming supplies, grocery store and diner. The ones I did see, I knew by sight but had rarely had conversation with them. Some nodded in my direction and I did the same, before crossing over to the diner.

  I had never actually eaten in there before. Aunt Anna never would, and I had no desire to eat alone and be subject to speculation or warrant any further gossip or condemnation from the locals who my family had wronged over generations. At least with Clay by my side, I for once didn’t feel so insecure. The place was more or less empty, and I slid into a booth and studied the menu.

  The guy behind the counter came over to take my order. He was about my age and vaguely familiar. I couldn’t place him at first, but when he opened his mouth to ask what I wanted and revealed crooked teeth, I knew exactly who he was. He’d been the ringleader of the group of boys who used to call me a dog and bark whenever they saw me coming. I felt nerves grip me, before I reminded myself that had happened years ago and I needed to get over it and not let it affect me. But how could it not? It wasn’t only these kids, it was the girls at my school in the city as well who didn’t know or care about my family to dislike me for that reason. They disliked and tormented me merely for the fact that…I was me and they could. This guy disliked me for my family name, that was almost acceptable, but those horrible girls…how could I not take their cruelty to heart?

  When I didn’t answer him, the guy peered at me. “You okay?”

  Clay walked up then. “Ready to order? I’m starving.”

  I straightaway felt better and more confident in his presence. “I’ll have a burger.”

  “Good choice. I’ll have the same.” Clay took my menu and passed it to the waiter. In his presence, the waiter looked small and insignificant. It made me wonder how I could ever have of let his words hurt me to that extent.

  “Did you get what you needed done?” I asked Clay while we waited for our food.

  “Yeah. I just had to check in with a few people.” He leaned back in his seat, with one leather-clad arm slung over the back of the booth casually. I loved how he could be so at ease and at home wherever he was. I would kill to have that natural confidence. “How about you? Is there anyone you need to keep in touch with regularly so everyone knows that you’re still alive?”

  “Just my friend Erin, she’s in France at the moment so we’re just writing letters.” I had already starting planning my next letter in my head where I got to tell her everything about Clay.

  “What about your Mom?”

  I shrugged. “We’re not really in contact. She remarried and…we just drifted apart.” Not that we were ever together, not really. I was just one of the many planets orbiting around her, easily missed and unimportant. “Anyway, what about your family? Where are they?”

  He paused briefly. “They died a long time ago.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. Were you close?”

  He leaned in closer. “Let’s not talk about depressing things. I’d rather talk about you.”

  I leaned back against the vinyl of the seat, trying to resist the urge to squirm. I hated questions like that. “I think I’ve told you everything already.”

  “I’m sure you haven’t.” This time it wasn’t his statement making me squirm; it was the way he was looking at me. His dark eyes were so serious and the usual mirth and amusement that I usually saw there was missing. There was such intensity in his eyes that I felt like I was under a microscope, or worse as if I were i
n a cage and there was nowhere to go.

  “Oh, Matilda!” The door banged closed behind Marie and she swept hair out of her face as she walked toward us. “I didn’t think that I’d see you in here.” She smiled at me, her warmth out of place.

  “Hi, Marie. This is Clay, the historian I told you about.”

  Her eyes switched to him. “Ahh, the motorcycle owner. Nice bike.”

  “Thanks.” If he was surprised that she would be the type to appreciate a bike like that, he didn’t show it.

  She stared at him for a second longer before saying, “You must have Irish blood.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

  “Black hair and black eyes. I’d say your ancestors were from County—”

  “Two burgers.” The waiter interrupted her as he placed the plates down in front of us. “Mrs. O’Shea, I’ve got your order ready at the counter.”

  She nodded to him. “Right. Well, good seeing you two.” She looked directly at me. “If you ever need any help, Matilda, you know where I am. There’s no point being proud.”

  “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

  Then Marie’s gaze turned to Clay. “It was nice to meet you.”

  “You too, Mrs. O’Shea.”

  Her gaze lingered on him for a few moments longer before she turned away to get her food.

  When she was out of earshot, Clay turned to me. “Nosy neighbor?”

  “She’s kind. I like her.” And she had got me out of having to talk about myself. We ate mainly in silence after that, the burgers were messy and I ended up with ketchup all over my hands. Clay grinned and held my hands securely as he wiped them clean. The contrast between Clay and Josh was amazing. Once, Josh had taken me to a fancy restaurant that had perfect reviews and hosted celebrities from time to time. I had a chicken salad that was thick with a red wine dressing, and that dressing ended up smeared on the pristine white tablecloth. I hadn’t noticed until he stopped in the middle of whatever he’d been saying and pointedly looked at the mess that I had made. My eyes dropped down to the red smear that had caught his attention.