Undulate (Alchemy, #2)

by Elodie Hart

Both ways are sexy as fuck. But none of the previous times have been as arousing as now, when I’m so badly in need of an orgasm I could pass out and it sounds like Zach Mc Slave Master has himself enslaved me on this contraption with Ben’s help. Ben’s low instructions to Zach as they did it were just audible over the sexy beat of the music.

‘Trying to make yourself come?’ ‘I need to,’ I gasp. ‘Unfortunately, you’re not in charge.’ He squeezes his hands between us to tease my nipples. ‘I am.’ I let out a frustrated groan and he laughs again. Excellent. I’ve gone and got myself sold off to a champion edger.

And it’s fucking torture. I have God knows how many guys ministering to me—four? Five?—and what a fucking waste, because instead of sating me, they’re tormenting me. The hands and the mouths are teasing me, winding me higher so gradually, so carefully, that I’m almost tempted to employ the safe word. I use what little brainpower I have available to console myself with the fantasy of screaming spreadsheet! at the top of my lungs. They’d have to untie me, and then I’d rugby-tackle Mr Spreadsheet McSexy to the ground before clamping my thighs on either side of his handsome head and violently grinding my pussy into his face till he gave me my fucking orgasm. Jesus.

He holds me tightly at the waist as my ankles are unshackled. Once I’m free, he grabs me under my bottom and I wrap my legs around him like a koala. He’s fully clothed. His cock, I notice, is zipped back up. I grind my pussy against his heavenly fabric-clad hardness as I lower my mouth to his. ‘The next part is for me,’ he murmurs against my mouth. ‘I haven’t finished getting my money’s worth yet.’

I can’t resist. I dip my head and lick. Not for her, for myself. I swirl a meandering path through the very centre of her, recalling the scents and tastes that left me intoxicated last week. She opens herself up to me even further and moans, and it’s long and low and enraptured. I pull away and look up at her. ‘No. This isn’t for you. It’s for me. You don’t get to make a sound. I’ve bought your body for my enjoyment. Got it?’ Her eyelids flutter closed for a second before she grits out a pained, ‘Sorry, sir.’

Fucking glorious, that’s what. Her already tight walls clamp beautifully around me, and it’s impossible to miss the anguished breath she sucks in through her teeth. She’s too close already. It’s too risky. I pull away and get to my feet. ‘Stand up and undress your master.’

Stand up and undress your master. Holy fucking hell. Every intimate muscle in my body clenches at his words. Being the slave girl to Zach’s master is so impossibly arousing that I’m right on the brink again.

Master Sexy Pants is now just in a pair of snug black boxer briefs, and boy is it a good look on him, especially because the crown of his dick is already poking out under the waistband.

I want this man to profane me so badly that I’m a squirming mess. He raises an eyebrow sexily at me. ‘Safeword?’ I try very, very hard not to smirk. ‘Spreadsheet, sir.’

‘I think you’ve earned your freedom with that little performance,’ I murmur in her ear. She groans dramatically. ‘Now that is the most disappointing news ever.’

‘No, she’s a wonderful person. I’m not blaming her at all. She’s incredible—she’s full of light, completely irresistible in every way.’ ‘You’ve lost me,’ he says. ‘It’s not for me as your friend to judge the morality of how you use your body, mate, but if being with this young woman makes you happy, then I don’t see the problem. Unless’—he leans forward, holding his pint on his knee—‘you don’t believe you deserve to be happy. Then that’s a very big problem. It’s a natural expression of our humanity to seek companionship.’

John sighs. ‘My friend, maybe you need to get out of your own way. You’re telling me you’re in the early stages of a relationship with a woman who is a delightful human being and where there’s great physical attraction.’ ‘No, no,’ I insist. ‘Not a relationship. God no.’ He blinks at me. ‘And why not?’ ‘Because… because it’s too early! Claire’s been dead, like, eighteen months. It’s so disrespectful to her memory if I even entertain the idea

of letting someone else into my heart. The girls deserve everything I have to give. There isn’t any more of me to go around.’ ‘With all due respect, mate,’ he says, ‘the girls deserve a father who’s happy and fulfilled and loved. Not someone crippled by grief. No one, and I mean no one, would deny your right to happiness.’ He drains his pint. ‘I’ve got to be getting back, I’m afraid. But, and I say this with love, maybe it’s time to get out of your own way, you pompous arsehole.’

Are our agreed unspeakable things limited to Monday to Friday? Just wondering. keep talking The girls are at a party tomorrow afternoon, so… come over I need more of that gorgeous duck of yours DICK!!! FFS see what you do to me?!?!

No argument here. As usual, Maddy has the last word. see you tomorrow

SIR Oh, sweet Jesus.

‘Come on,’ he says, tugging me into the shower by the arm. My enormous shower enclosure is my pride and joy, with a massive raindance shower head as well as a hand-held one (every girl needs one). He positions himself right under the torrent of water, and I watch in drooling delight as he throws his head back and shoves his hands through his hair. Holy. Fucking. Shit.

I’m going to make him blow so hard. I busy myself with washing his leg, careful to keep my mouth exactly where it is and wondering just how long it will take Mr Sexy McMaster to cave. ‘Forget my leg. Suck me,’ he orders. There it is. Just like clockwork.

The room is also surprisingly clutter-free. ‘Did you tidy up for me?’ I tease her. ‘Fuck off.’ She peels the towel off and gets onto the bed, settling on her stomach and resting her head to one side. ‘Fuck off is code for yes, I assume.’ ‘It’s code for maybe. And for please don’t look under the bed.’ I chuckle, admiring the slim curves of her naked body as I discard my towel and climb on beside her.

This isn’t piteous crying. This is full-on convulsive weeping. Her little body is wracked with sobs, her breath comes in great gasps, and above her shrill, incoherent and desperate noises I make out one word, shuddered out over and over again like a mantra. Mummy. Dear, sweet God Almighty, can nothing save us from this pain? Can nothing ease the devastation for my little girls of waking in the middle of the night and being hit by the cruelty of their reality?

We can watch videos of Claire, fill the house with photos of her, and saturate our pillows with her perfume, and ask her for signs, and rejoice when she sends them, and share our most special and our most trivial memories of her. And we can believe that she’s in a better place. But none of that matters. And none of it fucking helps. Because she is not fucking here. I rock my beautiful, amazing, brave daughter in my arms as she wails and flails and soaks through the soft cotton of my t-shirt with her torrent of tears. ‘Want Mummy,’ she sobs against my chest. ‘I know, sweetheart, I know.’ I know so fucking well.

I raise a weary arm to wave her over. ‘Come here, darling.’ A glance at the clock tells me it’s three-oh-seven. Double shit. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asks, clambering onto the bed. ‘Nancy’s just sad,’ I tell her. ‘She misses Mummy.’ ‘Oh,’ she says quietly. She nestles in against my arm and strokes Nancy’s head. ‘Me too,’ she whispers. I lean my head sideways to nuzzle against her as best I can with my arms full of Nance. ‘Me three.’ ‘Maybe Nancy can be in the middle of the sandwich tonight,’ Stel says. ‘So she feels safe.’ My weary heart swells, although I wonder if I’ll get any fucking sleep tonight. ‘That’s a lovely idea, sweetheart. Let’s give it a try.’

‘Does anyone want to think of a sign to ask Mummy?’ I whisper. To be fair to her, Claire has always held up her end of her deathbed bargain. The ability of my overachieving late wife to deliver signs from the other side is, frankly, jaw-dropping. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I Want it That Way has blared out in all manner of contexts. Even her spirit is impressive. ‘Partridge,’ Nancy murmurs. Actually, she’s so knackered she slurs it. ‘A partridge?’ Stel and I say together. What the fuck? Nancy’s little body stiffens. ‘A partridge.’ Okay then. ‘A partridge it is,’ I say with a confidence I don’t feel. Good luck with that darling, I say silently to the ceiling. And, you know, before they head off to school would be great.

‘I don’t know this song,’ Nancy grumbles, kicking at the edge of the island. ‘This is I Think I Love You,’ Ruth tells them. ‘By—’ I freeze, one hand outstretched for the cafetière. ‘Holy fuck, The Partridge Family,’ I say. ‘Daddy!’ Nancy says. But I’m bent over the island, pushing my hands into my eyeballs in an attempt to hold back the tears. Fucking hell, Claire, I tell her silently. You little beauty. Clever, clever girl. ‘It’s the Partridge family,’ Stella tells her. ‘Like partridge.’ I shudder out a breath and turn to Ruth, who’s looking as though I’ve finally lost my marbles. ‘About four hours ago,’ I say, ‘Nancy asked Mummy for a sign. A partridge.’ Ruth’s eyes grow wide. She’s well used to our signs and is as enthusiastic as we are when they show up. ‘Did she now?’ she asks. ‘Wow. Well done Mummy.’

Today I’m in my skintight fake leather trousers—black—and a camel polo neck, paired with black suede heels. It’s a look I like to call Classy but Sexy Autumn, otherwise known as He Doesn’t Stand a Chance.

‘You’re every man’s fantasy, Mads.’ He pulls out and slams back in hard, and any remaining air leaves my lungs as I take his dick. ‘Bent over like this, your pussy begging to be fondled and fucked. Should I let someone else have a go?’ ‘No,’ I moan. He runs his lips along my jaw as he rolls his hips, filling me and teasing me. ‘Why?’ I steel myself to tell him the truth. A truth that’s been branding itself onto my conscious for a while now, and which has burnt brightly in my soul since this weekend. ‘Because nobody else makes me feel as good as you do.’ His inhale against my ear is sharp. Shocked.

But it’s his words, rather than his actions, that unravel me completely. ‘I have a confession to make,’ he murmurs in my ear as our heart rates return to normal. I close my legs together, clamping him inside me for as long as I can, not wanting him to leave me empty and bereft. ‘What’s that?’ ‘I’d give anything,’ he says, ‘to take you home with me and curl myself around you all night.’

‘Your mid-twenties is the optimal time to start,’ she says. ‘Excellent.’ I roll my eyes. ‘You can buy me a prescription in two years.’ Behind me, Belle lets out a snort that’s unladylike and unsupportive in equal measure. ‘The whole point of you being here is to be on my side,’ I tell her. ‘No it’s not,’ Mum says. ‘It’s because I love seeing her.’ ‘I love seeing you too, Verity,’ my not-so-best-friend says. Though I know why she adores my mum. It’s because Verity Hudson-Weir is the antithesis of Belle’s mum, Lauren. When it comes to sex stuff, at least.

Mum ignores me. ‘You just want to keep the boundaries clear, darling. You know? A nice, nubile young girl like you. He’ll snap you up and put a ring on your finger before you know it.’ Belle full-on laughs. ‘Mum!’ I protest. Fuck’s sake. She makes me sound like some lithesome servant girl. ‘Mark my words, darling, you don’t want to be the Maria to his Captain Von Trapp,’ she tells me. ‘He’ll go full you brought music back to my life on you.’ ‘Except by music, he’ll be talking about sex,’ Belle interjects unhelpfully. I give her my best side-eye. ‘I liked you far more when you were repressed and unhappy.’ She beams at me.

‘What’s that smile for?’ Mum asks.

‘Nothing.’ Just thinking about how Zach’s face must have looked when I told him my safe word was spreadsheet. I wonder if I’ll ever need to use it.

I have to admit she looks even more knockout than usual today in her sleek winter white Valentino shift. If I hadn’t seen how adoring, and how caveman-level protective Rafe was of her at her lowest point when it all went tits-up with her dad, I’d probably be sceptical that he wanted her as a trophy girlfriend who looked the part on his arm. But I know he loves Belle’s beautiful heart and soul as much as he worships her looks.

‘Yes you have,’ Belle says, ‘and I’ve always admired that. And, look, I agree with her that Zach probably has zero intention of trying to find Wife Number Two anytime soon—I think he’s just looking to blow off some steam which, obviously, no one will blame him for.’ ‘There’s definitely a lot of blowing off,’ I mutter to myself. ‘But, between you and me, I feel like Mads might be getting attached. He’s a seriously great guy, but obviously his home-life is complicated. I’m a bit worried he’ll hurt her without realising it.’ ‘Hello? You realise I’m right here, yes?’ I demand. Belle rounds the island and slinks her arm around my waist so she can rest her golden head on my shoulder. ‘We know you’re here. And we both love you an obnoxious amount, which is why you need to put up with us being overprotective.’ ‘I know,’ I say ungraciously. ‘A few months ago, you helped me pick up the pieces when Dad went nuclear, and you used the B-word on me.’ She nudges me with her elbow. ‘You know you did.’ I sigh. ‘Yes, I did. Should I be regretting that right about now?’ Boundaries.

‘He had a bad day!’ I say. ‘That’s what happens when your wife dies and leaves you with two fucked-up kids to raise. And when you have a bad day, you share it with your person. That’s what relationships are for.’ Oh, fuck. They both stare at me, and with good reason, because I called myself his person, and I used the R-word. Dear God, have I lost all self-respect? I glare at them both and tip the remainder of my wine down my throat before holding out my glass. ‘Refill. Please.’

‘There are people in this life who are takers by nature, and that makes them drains, and those are the ones we avoid, hmm? But there are also truly good, wonderful people who have so much to give when they’re in a good place, but who may end up draining us all the same when they’re struggling, without either party being remotely aware of it.’

‘If I’ve taught you anything, it’s that communication is the key to all healthy relationships. Communication and boundaries. Yes?’ She releases me and pinches my cheeks. ‘Yes,’ I sigh. Zach and I do communicate. A lot. But I suspect the type of communication Mum means isn’t good girl, or fuck me harder, or you’re so wet for me.

‘We’re a fancy family,’ Stella says in all seriousness, and I spit out a laugh. ‘Er, I think pizza is the only time we’re fancy. We’re pretty basic in most other ways. Nance has always had a thing for olives, though,’ I tell Mads. ‘She loves tapenade.’ Maddy raises an eyebrow. ‘Tapenade? Told you. Super fancy. Slay, queen.’ ‘Slay,’ the other three females at the table agree. Rafe and I exchange a we’re too old to understand look.

‘What’s with all the Old English, Stel?’ Rafe wants to know. I sigh. ‘Liz Truss did a reading at the Queen’s funeral,’ Stella tells him. He frowns at her mention of our most flash-in-the-pan Prime Minister ever. ‘Yeah. And?’ ‘And when she read it, she said eth at the end of every word.’ Understanding dawns on Rafe and Belle’s faces. ‘Ahh,’ they say in unison. Rafe and I exchange another look. This one’s a kids are so fucking weird look.

shrug. ‘It makes everything sound fancier, doesn’t it, Stel?’ ‘Yeah,’ she agrees. ‘Definitely the fanciest family ever,’ Rafe mutters, and we all laugh. ‘Methinketh it’s slay,’ Maddy announces, holding up a hand for Stella to high-five.’ ’Slay-eth,’ Stel corrects her as their palms connect. ‘Exactly! I love a little linguistic embellishment,’ Mads tells her.

‘But all we’re doing is fucking.’ She bites down on her lip, and I wait. ‘I mean—we talk, and stuff,’ she continues. ‘But I thought this was just physical.’ ‘If it feels purely physical to you, that’s okay,’ I say carefully. ‘It’s not for me. Not now.’

‘It’s not just physical,’ she admits finally, her eyes huge and emotion-filled on the small screen. I nod and smile my approval. That’s my girl. ‘No,’ I say quietly. ‘It’s not.’ ‘I didn’t think you wanted a girlfriend,’ she says. ‘I didn’t think so, either,’ I tell her. ‘And then I started spending time with you.’ Her entire face lights up. ‘I didn’t want to let you go this evening,’ I tell her honestly. ‘I didn’t want to go,’ she says in a small voice.

She smiles as I pan down my body with my phone. ‘Show me how much I’m turning you on.’ I shrug. ‘You’re not doing it for me yet,’ I lie. ‘I’ll need to see your fingers disappear into your pussy for anything to happen.’ ‘Oh, it’s okay,’ she whispers, eyes wide. ‘At your age, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ll bring some little blue pills next time I see you.’ ‘You cheeky little shit,’ I say,

‘That’s it,’ I tell her through gritted teeth. ‘But you know what I’d do if I was there, don’t you?’ There’s an audible sigh. ‘What would I do, Mads, if I was there?’ I ask in my sternest tone. ‘You’d edge me and edge me, you sadistic fucker,’ she throws back, and I laugh hard. ‘Good girl. Exactly.’

I roll my eyes. ‘I said I’m supposed to be sowing my wild oats. Not that I want to.’ ‘Do you want to? It’s a straightforward yes or no, Mads. We’ve had some fun at the club, and you’ve opened my eyes to some new stuff, for which I’m grateful. But if you’re to be my girlfriend, we’re monogamous. I don’t want another guy laying a finger on you. I don’t want anyone even looking at you. Got it?’ I detest the warm thrill that courses through me at his possessiveness. I jut my jaw out sulkily before admitting the inconvenient truth. ‘I don’t want to be with anyone else. I just want you.’ He exhales, emotion flooding his gorgeous features. ‘You sure, sweetheart? Because you need to be sure I’m enough for you. You’re a hell of a lot more adventurous than I am. If you need that lifestyle, then I understand. You shouldn’t make any sacrifices for me that aren’t worth it. I need to know being with me alone can satisfy you.’

I shake my head, my voice threatening to give. ‘You’re more than enough for me,’ I manage. ‘You’re everything. I don’t want any other men—I don’t even want to think about it, to be honest.’ His head slumps forward for a second before he raises it, his eyes finding mine and his hand reaching across the table once again. He smooths his thumb over my knuckles as he says in a choked voice, ‘Then we’re good. That’s the only thing I was worried about, that you’d get bored with me.’ He pauses. ‘That I wouldn’t be able to make you happy.’

His face grows serious. ‘At first, I might have been trying to find oblivion through you, to be honest. It was so fucking tempting to just lose myself in you. But lately, I feel more found than lost.’ I press my lips together as tears sting the corners of my eyes, because that is simply the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me. And I want so badly to believe him.

Silence. Stel frowns. ‘Like a girlfriend?’ ‘Yes. Exactly,’ I say, relieved I don’t have to spell it out for her. ’You’re too old for her, Dad. It’s creepy,’ she says. ‘I think she’d prefer a younger boyfriend. No offence.’ I stare at her, stunned. What’s going on here? Have I just been age-shamed by my ten-year-old daughter?

Stoically, I soldier on. ‘So don’t worry about Maddy being happy, or me. She makes me happy, and I make her happy. But I want to know if you’d be happy if I went out with her. Would you be okay with me having her as my girlfriend?’ ‘Slay,’ Stella says, which I gather is an affirmative. ‘Okay,’ Nancy says. She flicks her fork, and there’s a noisy splat on the floor immediately followed by a canine gobbling noise.

NDAs or not, we don’t want some billionaire twat waltzing in here without being very clear on the house rules.

This is epic. ‘I had no idea you were this cool a dad,’ I tell Zach as I nuzzle his neck in a quiet corner of the club.