His Temporary Mistress

Violet clamped shut her mouth, allowed herself to be carried away to oblivion. She cried out mindlessly as wave upon wave of glorious, unstoppable sensation ripped through her perspiring body, and he echoed her.

When he withdrew from her, turning to deposit the used condom in the bin, she scrambled off the counter and, for a few seconds, barely remembered the train of thought that had been running through her head just before she had climaxed.

It was a luxury that wasn’t destined to last long. She went upstairs for a quick shower. She desperately needed some time to herself, time for her thought processes to be followed through to their natural conclusion, even though the conclusion might not be one she wanted to reach.

She had fallen in love with him. How had that happened? Shouldn’t there have been a natural progression of steps to get from A to B? Where was the calm, peaceful contentment she had always associated with falling in love? She had been swept along on a roller coaster ride and now she felt ambushed by an emotion that had crept in without her noticing, without her being able to take the necessary precautions. Whilst she had been racing with the devil and calling it experience, a one-off, love had been quietly settling like cement and now she felt constricted, unable to move and as fragile as a piece of spun glass.

She went downstairs to find that he had tidied the kitchen, which surely must have been a first for him, and waiting for her with a glass of wine in his hand. His trousers were back on, as was the shirt, although he hadn’t bothered to do up the buttons on the shirt which hung rakishly loose, revealing a sliver of bronzed torso.

‘Full marks for the appetiser...’ Damien sipped some of his wine and regarded her over the rim of the glass. If she had used a shower cap, it hadn’t done its job. Damp tendrils clung to her cheeks. She looked clean and rosy and unbelievably sexy, especially with the V-necked striped T-shirt she had put on, which allowed a generous view of her cleavage. It was a constant source of mystery that her appeal hadn’t diminished over the course of time. Why was that? Was it because he was fully aware that they came from opposite ends of the pole? That, for a man like him—a man who didn’t want commitment—he had found his match in a woman who probably did want commitment but not with a man like him? Could that be it?

Violet’s eyes skittered away from his beautiful, sinfully sexy face. Every compliment he paid her had to do with sex, with her body, with the physical. She could see now that that had been the start of her downfall. Those husky words of rampant appreciation, delivered with intent, had arrowed in on a part of her that had always been insecure and found their mark. Like a flower coming into bloom, she had opened up and grown in an area of her life that had been stunted and underdeveloped. He had made her feel like a woman, a powerful, beautiful, engaging woman, and she had run with the sensation. She had let him in and, without even realising it, had seen beyond their differences to all the things about him that were strangely endearing.

‘Damien...we need to...to talk...’

He continued to smile that crooked little half smile of his but his eyes were suddenly watchful. Women wanting to talk was usually synonymous with women saying things he didn’t want to hear.

‘I’m listening.’ He strolled across to one of the kitchen chairs and sat down, looking at her carefully as she shuffled to the chair opposite him, so that the width of the table was separating them.

‘It’s been a while, Damien. Your mother has responded really well to treatment and is out of the danger zone. I agreed to all of this...pretending, the charade...for my sister and then I carried on with it for myself, because I was talked into putting sexual attraction above everything else...’

‘Ah. I get it. Are we going to start on a blame game, Violet? With me cast in the role of seducer of innocent girls? If that’s the case, then I suggest you have a rethink before you get on your soapbox.’

Violet had forgotten this side to him, the side that could withdraw and grow cold. The fact that it was still there, right beneath the surface, was a timely reminder of why it was so important to begin detaching herself from this relationship, if indeed relationship was what it could be called.

‘I wasn’t going to do that.’

‘No?’ Damien drawled. He hadn’t been expecting this, not after having had mind-blowing sex, and tension lent a hard, mocking edge to his voice. ‘Because no one pointed to a bed and then held a gun to your head while you got undressed.’

‘I know that! Why are you being so...so horrible?’

‘I’m just waiting to hear what you have to say and reminding you that you were an eager and willing volunteer when it came to sex.’ She couldn’t meet his eyes. What the hell was going on? How could everything change in a matter of seconds? His confusion angered him because it was yet another niggling reminder that he was not as much in control with this woman as he would have liked to have been.

‘I’m saying that I think it would be a good idea if we...we...took a step back...’ Violet lowered her eyes and frowned into the glass of wine which had somehow found its way in front of her.

‘A step back...’

‘Your mother is more than stable enough to deal with our relationship hitting the rocks. She’s back to doing stuff with Dominic, can go out in her garden now and again... I feel that the time has come for us to get back to our normal lives...’

‘And between us making love in the kitchen and you going to have a shower...you’ve reached this decision when...? Exactly...?’

‘I don’t have to give you any explanations of when or why I’ve reached my decision, Damien. It’s over. I’m not like you. I can’t carry on sleeping with you, knowing that it’s something that’s not going anywhere.’

‘Where do you want it to go?’ Damien asked, as quick as a flash.

‘I don’t want it to go anywhere!’

‘And what if I tell you that I don’t want what we have to end yet? Doubtless my mother is strong enough to recover from a crash and burn relationship, even if she’s unduly fond of you, but it’s long ceased to be about my mother, as you well know.’ Suddenly restless, he vaulted to his feet, glass in one hand, and began to pace the tiny kitchen. He’d never been dumped by a woman. Pride alone should have had him gathering his jacket and heading for the door. Hadn’t he made it his mission to avoid the hassle of the demanding woman? And what was she demanding anyway? She had always made it quite clear that they were poles apart, that he was not the blueprint of the kind of man she would ever consider settling down with.

So...was it money? Underneath all the protestations of not being materialistic, had she become used to the opulence that surrounded him wherever he went? Had she glimpsed a vision of how life could be if she could get access to his? He stifled a sudden feeling of intense disappointment. He was a realist and this was the explanation that made the most sense.

His brain locked into gear. He still wanted her and, whether she admitted it or not, she was still hot for him. So maybe she didn’t feel as though she had a stake in their relationship. She made a big song and dance of not wanting to accept anything from him but, in so doing, did she feel that she was utterly disposable? That, despite his offers to buy her no less than he would have bought for any of his lovers, he found her in any way less attractive? If only... Just thinking about the way her breasts spilled heavily out of her bra was enough to engage his mind for a few seconds on a completely different path. If he had felt, in any way, that the sex was beginning to wane, he might have shrugged and taken his leave but he was an expert when it came to gauging responses. He couldn’t remember a time when the woman had been the flagging partner and it wasn’t the case now. Nor was he about to give up a sex life that was second to none.

‘There’s something I want you to see.’

Violet was taken aback by a remark that seemed to come from nowhere. ‘What is it?’

‘Wait here.’ In the heat of the moment, he had forgotten the costly item of jewellery nestling in its classy black and gold box. His fait accompli present. Whoever said that the Great One didn’t work in mysterious ways?

She was still sitting in the same position in the kitchen when he returned and extended his hand. ‘For you,’ he informed her solemnly. ‘I hear what you’re saying and this is just a small measure of what you mean to me...’

Violet took the box but already she could feel her skin beginning to get clammy. What he meant to her. How many times had she told him that she didn’t want anything from him? She lifted the lid of the box and stared down at an item of jewellery that she knew would have been spectacularly expensive. What she meant to him would never be love, it certainly wasn’t durability. She was his willing plaything and her worth could be counted in banknotes. She fought down the stupid urge to cry over a piece of jewellery that would have had any other woman shrieking in delight.

‘I don’t want it.’ She stuck it back in the box, snapped shut the lid and handed it to him.