‘What are you proposing?’ she asked, trying to be as businesslike as her semi-sheer robe would allow.
‘When we break up the holding company, we could sell Clochiers to you. Obviously not you by yourself, unless you have large reserves of money I don’t know about,’ he smiled. ‘You’ll need to bring some equity yourself to the table, but I can arrange additional debt financing and I’ll be an investor myself along with other well-matched partners.’
‘It sounds very interesting,’ she replied, trying to keep her cool.
Max placed his wine glass on the table.
‘But that’s enough talking shop for one evening.’
Cassandra smiled and beckoned him over.
‘Well, are you just going to stand there or are you going to fuck me?’
‘Beg me for it,’ he said taking a step towards her and untying her gown so her round breasts sprang lose. He took his palm and placed it over her nipple, circling it slowly until it became rock hard.
‘Beg me,’ he repeated.
‘Never,’ she whispered, her pupils dilating with need. Right now she wanted nothing more than to feel his cock deep inside her. The excitement of the proposal still buzzing through her, she was desperately, painfully hungry for him.
He licked two fingers and she parted her legs in readiness. She groaned as his fingertips curled into her wetness, her breasts pressing against the cool cotton of his shirt as he planted soft butterfly kisses on her neck. She pulled him down onto the rug as he scrambled out of his clothes. His body positioned over her, his strong hands parted her legs so far apart she could feel cool air on her ripe clitoris. His hands moved up her body, gripping her hair and she could smell herself on his fingertips. After a few maddening moments he inched his cock into her, so slowly that she screamed out in frustration. And when he’d filled her entirely, he increased his thrusts faster and faster until she came in white-hot release, the climax still shuddering through her body as she felt Max erupt inside her. They didn’t move for a few seconds afterwards.
‘You do realize you’re very stubborn,’ said Max softly, pulling her into the crook of his arm. Cassandra didn’t reply, biting her lip to stop herself from speaking, suddenly frightened by the force of the feelings that Max stirred to the surface, feelings that were fighting to make themselves heard.
‘I love you,’ she whispered, but her mouth was pushed against his shoulder and the words were lost in the folds of his cotton shirt.
41
The Feathers was unusually busy for a Saturday night, thought Emma as she stepped into the warm pub. She looked around anxiously – she hated going into pubs on her own. She saw that Ruan was at his usual corner table, a pint of Guinness in front of him, chatting to some boys from the factory. Standing behind them was Rob. Even in a room crowded full of people, bodies pressed up against each other, she could hear his voice and his laughter. He seemed to know everyone in the place; talking, winking or back-slapping everyone who walked past him. It irritated Emma. She hadn’t been into the pub in weeks, whereas Rob had obviously been virtually living there. These days she seemed to spend Saturday nights asleep on the sofa, too weary to do anything except read or listen to music. She was certainly too tired to go out, especially when the nights were short, cold and debilitating. But tonight Stella had some friends down from London and attendance at the Feathers was apparently compulsory. So despite the fact that she’d been feeling under the weather all day she’d popped down, her cherry red jumper making her look more perky than she felt. She was at the bar vainly trying to get served when she felt someone squeeze in beside her.
‘Do my eyes deceive me or is this Miss Emma Bailey in the pub?’
Rob casually waved at the barmaid who immediately stepped over.
‘You make it sound like the passing of Halley’s Comet,’ said Emma after she had ordered. ‘A once in a lifetime’s sighting.’
‘Well, you don’t come down that often.’
‘I come down plenty,’ she said defensively. ‘You’re only here three nights a week so you’re hardly in a position to monitor my every move.’
‘I have my spies,’ smiled Rob.
‘Yes, I’m sure,’ said Emma. Realizing he wasn’t going to be so easily shaken off, Emma sighed.
‘I think Stella’s in the back snug,’ she said. ‘I hear she has some pretty London ladies in tow.’
‘In that case, Ruan can fend for himself,’ said Rob.
The back part of the pub was bursting at the seams. It was so hot that the windows were dripping with condensation and Irish music was playing loudly.
‘Emma. Over here,’ shouted Stella from a corner table where she was sitting with three beautiful girls who all had that fashionable metropolis polish, aided by the flattering addition of candlelight. Emma was not at all surprised when Rob went and squeezed himself in the booth next to Petra, Stella’s prettiest friend.
‘We’re waiting for Johnny to drop in, then we’re going over to his parents’ place,’ said Stella, pulling her hair up into a ponytail.
‘What’s it like?’ asked Emma. ‘Isn’t it the biggest house in Oxfordshire?’
‘Something like that. You can come and see for yourself. His mum and dad aren’t around his week and we’re all staying over. Come.’
Curiosity tempted Emma, but her hands felt clammy and her heart seemed to be beating faster than usual.