Driving Me Mad, page 4
Chapter Three
I didn’t stay for breakfast. There was no way I wanted every time I looked at my hostess to remind me about what had happened. And I certainly didn’t need to experience the repeated emotional slap for not being who she wanted.
When we parted at the front door, Annabel was very quiet. Her face was pale, those beautiful eyes dull. As I began to back away, she reached out to me but I just stuck out my hand to shake hers. There was no denying the sensation that raced from her to me, and from me to her. No denying the irresistible pull of connection or the sudden surety that I definitely knew her.
Her face brightened, and her mouth opened as if she wanted to speak.
“Thank you, Annabel.” I held up the directions she had written down in small, neat handwriting. “It was lovely meeting you.”
Her mouth closed, and so did her expression. She gave a brief nod of acknowledgement.
Then, without a backwards glance, I was on my way to Breadsall Priory and a day of more shit.
The drive to the Priory bore no resemblance whatsoever to the interminable trek of the previous evening. Roads I had thought to be deserted actually were lined with houses and shops. Why hadn’t I seen them the night before? Perhaps they were closed then, so there had been no lights on to catch my attention. Or perhaps it was sheer panic that had made me pass them by without notice.
I signed in at the hotel and offered my apologies for not arriving the night before. I didn’t go into detail, as I doubted the man on Reception actually gave two shits about my life story. The room was being paid for by my company, so it didn’t matter either way to them whether or not I used it.
Then it was up to my room, toting my own bag instead of having to make small talk with the bellboy. Showered and changed, I was in the meeting hall, seated at the back. I didn’t want to be an eager beaver today. Far from it. I wanted to wallow in self-pity and forget everything that had happened the night before.
Today was the final convention stop for me for a while. I had booked an overnight stay at the Priory for that evening as well, but I decided to go home instead. But then the scenes from the previous evening kept popping into my head throughout the day, and I eventually decided to stay the night and drive back to Norwich as soon as the sun was up the following morning. At least I would have little chance of getting lost in full daylight.
It was more of the same old faces, same old shit, and same old me. Actually, I had always loved my job and so I suffered through the obligatory conventions, but now they seemed just a waste of my time. I found myself mentally drifting off, thinking about what had happened that morning.
I usually used meetings as an opportunity to network, but not today. Today I isolated myself from the other reps, shut myself off from the rest of the world.
Bedtime was earlier than usual. I was mentally and physically exhausted. No surprise really, considering I must’ve had no more than three hours sleep the night before. I opted for a bath instead of a shower, and soaked myself until my skin pruned.
When I opened my case and pulled out my pjs, I thought again about the previous night. Pulling off the side of the road and feeling as if I was being watched; the feelings of fear, of being hunted; meeting Annabel and her believing I was someone else.
I stopped, my pjs hanging loosely in my hand. Everything that had happened after that seemed out of place, as if I’d entered a world that I did and didn’t belong in, like I was stepping into the shoes of someone else and the shoes fit perfectly.
Fuck that. I wasn’t Cinderella. I must’ve been even more tired than I’d thought the night before. How else could I explain the face at the kitchen window?
Then I remembered the dreams, the feeling of being on the outside of my life and looking in. I snorted derisively as I acknowledged how true that was. It seemed I’d always felt that way—on the outside of my own fucking life and looking at it as if seeing it under a microscope.
That didn’t change the fact that my dreams were even more fucked up than my real life, although I did recognise that was usually what happened in dreams.
For the first time in a long time, I felt the pangs of loneliness. I didn’t get lonely; I kept busy. Kept on the move and didn’t allow people to invade my private life. Even visiting my family was a chore, something to be endured at Christmas and on birthdays. I was happy being on my own, happy not having anyone to answer to. So why was I suddenly feeling as if my life might not be quite enough?
This introspection was too deep, too intimate. I was tired, that was all. I needed a good night’s sleep, and I would be good to go. A night of restful sleep would take care of these feelings of loneliness, of not belonging and not fitting in.
I slipped into my pjs and then under the covers. Sleep was waiting for me almost immediately. So were the dreams.
* * *
The scene was different, so very different from the night before. I was inside Annabel’s house, sprawled on the sofa. Soft music was playing in another part of the house, and the sound of it was calming. A fire blazed in the hearth. Candles scattered around the room added to the ambience. It was relaxing, peaceful. I felt completely at home.
In my dream, I closed my eyes and allowed the serenity to completely envelop me. The warmth, the music, the perception of safety was wonderful.
Someone came into the room, but I didn’t feel alarmed. In fact, I didn’t even open my eyes. Fingers danced over my face, tracing from eyebrows to mouth and back again. They focused on my lips, following the curve of the lazy smile the stroking had conjured.
“You are so very beautiful.”
The words seemed to seep into my skin and warm me to the core. Fingers were replaced by soft kisses, kisses that I returned. I knew those lips—the texture and the taste of them, and how they would claim my own. I also knew without a shadow of a doubt that I had kissed those lips a thousand times before.
Even before I opened my eyes to drown in pools of chocolate, I knew it was my Annabel. Just the feel of her lips, the smell of her skin—it was all her, the love of my life. This was the woman who had made me feel alive from the moment I met her nearly four years ago. It was a pity I’d met her younger brother just before that. Her brother was my husband.
This wasn’t the time to remember his cruelty, wasn’t the time to recollect his fists, his biting words, his hatred for anything that didn’t fit into his bigoted view of life. This was time for me to be with Annabel, and I wanted to make the most of it.
My eyes opened and I absorbed her beauty. My breathing stopped whilst I examined every feature of her face. One eyebrow raised in question made her expression sexy. I trailed my fingers down the side of her face, and she turned and kissed them.
“Is Bella asleep?” My voice was husky.
Annabel made a mewling noise before answering. “Yes. Like a lamb. She always has liked the bed in the spare room being especially her size.”
More kisses along my fingers, until she slipped one inside her mouth and sucked. I gasped at the sensation of her mouth and tongue. Heat raced to my core, and I shifted closer to her. “Did…did you read to her?”
“Ahuh. Madeline’s Rescue is going down well.” Her lips curled into a smile before she pulled away and looked lovingly into my eyes. “She wants me to tell you she wants a dog.”
“Really? My three-year-old daughter said she wants a dog, eh?”
Her eyes widened in feigned innocence. “Yep. One like Genevieve.”
I laughed. “You mean you want a dog like Genevieve.”
Annabel scrunched up her nose before grinning widely and nodding.
“Thought so.” I cupped my hand behind her head and pulled her to me. I wanted to feel those lips and that tongue again. Before I could kiss her, she pulled back and looked straight into me.
“You will, won’t you?”
I didn’t have to question what she meant. I knew she wasn’t talking about a dog. Annabel was asking if we were still leaving Kirk Langley the following evening, as we’d planned. It was a monumental step for both of us. I would be leaving my husband and taking our only child away from him; Annabel would be leaving her home.
Freddie would never accept our leaving together, never let the shame of it die. No one left Freddie Howell, no one, especially not his wife. He would hunt us down like animals.
Until now Annabel and I had kept our love a secret, but it would all come out when she left with me. People would not understand that two women could be in love and want to spend their lives together. Freddie would definitely not be happy that someone else now possessed his property, even if it was his own sister. I knew I was committing adultery, but that sin paled in comparison to the abuse Freddie had heaped on me over the years.
I sat up and met her gaze. “Nothing will keep me from you. Nothing.”
The force of her kiss pushed me back onto the sofa. My fingers threaded through her hair and gripped. Just having Annabel with me made all right with my world. Everything we had suffered would be worth it.
She moved over me, her body making contact with the full length of mine. The kiss was intense, and desire sparked throughout my body.
My hands slipped around the front of Annabel’s shirt and began to release the buttons. The heat of her skin against my fingers made me hunger for more. I pushed her shirt over her shoulders and shifted my lips to her bared flesh. Annabel’s head tipped to the side, exposing her throat. I kissed my way up to it, taking the opportunity to taste her.
Annabel leaned back and sat up. She grabbed the tail of her shirt and pulled it free from her body in one swift movement; she wasn’t wearing a bra. The light of the fire danced over toned muscles and caressed the soft swell of her breasts.
My hand explored the dips and curves of her. Brown eyes met mine, almost black with their desire. I opened the button on her slacks and then slowly moved the zipper down. Slipping my hands back up, I grabbed the waistband and moved the pants downwards.
She placed her hands on top of mine and stopped me. “I want to see you, feel you.” The words seemed to be dragged from her throat, as if each was difficult to say.
I lifted my arms so she could unwrap me like a gift. Annabel lifted my jumper and pulled it over my head, then leaned forward and unclasped my bra, freeing my breasts.
“Jesus, Ellen.”
The shock in her voice made me freeze for an instant before my eyes followed her gaze. Bruises purpled my ribcage, dark and angry blotches that marred what should have been pale soft skin. Anger choked her, and tears filled her eyes with the effort of pushing it down. Tentative fingers traced the outline of each one, and although they were tender, I suppressed the wince.
Her eyes shifted from my skin and captured my gaze. “When?” She spluttered just the one word.
I shook my head. I didn’t want to ruin our time together by discussing how my husband had used me as a punch bag to vent his frustration over something that had gone wrong for him at work.
Annabel didn’t give up. “When, Ellen?”
The pain in her eyes made me cave in. “Tuesday.”
She pushed away from me, and I felt the loss of her.
“Tuesday?” she spat. “Tuesday! It’s Friday today. Friday!”
Her anger boiled over, but it was not aimed at me. I knew part of the reason she was angry was because I hadn’t told her about Freddie hitting me, but what was the point? Women were battered by their husbands all the time. It was a cold, hard fact that men could do as they wanted. It wasn’t right, but it was still done. Annabel and I were leaving the next evening to start life afresh somewhere else. I knew if I’d told her, she would have confronted him. We were so close to escaping this life that I didn’t want Annabel giving her brother any indication that she was in love with his wife. He was bound to realise that was the only reason Annabel would try to defend me.
“Annie.” I used the nickname I had for her. No one else called her Annie. No one else was allowed to. “Please, don’t.” I could see she was trying to let go of her anger, but so far it wasn’t working.
I stood up and moved over to her. My hands slipped around her waist and pulled her close. She was slightly taller than me, and I had to tilt my head back to look into her eyes. “Baby, we are close, so close. Let it go.” I could feel the rage vibrating through her, so I kissed her chin once, then again. Slowly, the emotion drained from her, and she slumped against me.
“I’m sorry, so sorry.” Tears were streaming down her face, so I brushed them away. “I just…just…”
More tears. I was making shushing noises and stroking her face and hair. I felt her body stiffen, and I knew what was coming next.
“I’m not like him, am I? You know—with my anger?”
I smiled at her and shook my head. Annabel Howell was the gentlest woman I had ever met. The thought of anyone being hurt made her hurt right along with them, and it came out as anger. It was a mystery how she could be related to that bastard Freddie Howell. They looked alike, but that was where the similarity ended.
I took her hands in mine and gently led her to the sofa and sat her down, then guided her back until she was lying down. Before I joined her, I slipped out of the rest of my clothes and stood before her naked. Her eyes drank me in almost reverently, like I was a divine creation sent to earth for her. No one else had ever looked at me that way, had ever made me feel so loved with just a look.
I leaned over, my mouth close to hers. She lifted her head, expecting me to kiss her, but I pulled back. “Your turn to get naked,” I murmured.
The shiver that passed through her was visible even in the half light.
I kissed along heated skin, glorying in the involuntary flexing of taut muscle. Gripping the top of her trousers, I pulled them down and then moved up to take off her panties. One hand on each foot soon got rid of her thick socks, and she lay before me completely undressed. Annabel was a vision, a balm to my soul. Each time I looked at her, my heart understood why it kept beating each day.
She reached forward and tentatively touched my bruises, but instead of getting angry again, she sighed and drew me closer until my body covered hers. “I love you so much, Ellen, so very much.”
Her words found their way into my soul. “I love you, too.” And God, I did.
Mouth met mouth, lips and tongues and teeth. Hands explored secret places, longing for no one but each other. I nudged her legs apart and settled between strong thighs. It felt so right to be with her, no matter what society forbade.
Annabel lifted her hips, seeking firmer contact, and I happily obliged her. Heat pooled at my core and I wanted to share it with her, share my essence with her, mix our essences until we two became one.
I kissed her skin, tasted her, revelled in her. A rhythm built between us, the tempo increasing with each thrust of our bodies moving in practiced synchrony. At that moment, it was all that mattered—the two of us reaffirming our love, our connection.
I kissed her and pressed harder against her. I wanted to climb inside, love her from the inside out, live forever within the woman who had stolen my heart almost from the moment I met her.
Annabel’s fingers were digging into my back, and I gasped into her mouth. Her thighs moved higher around my waist and opened her secret sanctum more fully against me. I could feel she was wet, and I wanted more contact. With her, I always wanted more.
I gripped one leg and then pushed the other thigh down to the sofa. I positioned myself over her thigh and slicked my need across her skin. When she groaned, I nuzzled her ear and whispered, “I want to make love to you.” The soft moan that slipped from her mouth almost made me cum right then. I took it as a yes.
I slid against her again and again, full strokes, my thigh pressing against her heat. My mouth moved to her breast, and I licked around the pert nipple before capturing it between my lips. The sensation of holding such perfection was divine.
Annabel’s hands gripped my backside and drew me closer, and my nub rubbed along the glorious length of her thigh. Desire flooded me, and I released her nipple and returned to her mouth. My lips met hers ferociously, and I am definite I heard myself growl as I pulled away to kiss her neck again. I could feel her heart hammering against my mouth, hear her ragged breathing, the scent of her need radiating in the air.
Her hands were in my hair, wrapping around the tendrils and tugging slightly. My hips were gyrating on her thigh, and the shocks of pleasure rippling through me made me pant, made me groan, made me need her even more.
Slipping my hand between us, I felt wetness, heat. Slick folds parted and permitted me entry to her most secret place, a place reserved for only me. I slowly circled her opening. Annabel rocked forward in an attempt to force my fingers inside, but I drew back.
“Please!” The word was a gasp.
I lifted my head and looked into beautiful eyes that were hooded, expectant. The rhythm between us never faltered.
She whispered, “I love you.”
A wonderful ache began in my heart. I loved this woman so bloody much.
I entered her slowly, gently, watching her eyes flicker at the sensation of being filled by two fingers. I held them still, giving her time to become accustomed to the feeling, but Annabel was impatient for more. Her hips moved backwards and forwards, creating a tempo I was happy to follow.
My own orgasm was simmering and would careen out of control if not held back, but I wanted to share my release with Annabel’s. Seeing her lying there open and vulnerable made it difficult to hold back, but I tried.
Her hips moved more quickly as my fingers took her. I reached deep inside her, pulled back, delved deeply again. Sweat coated our skin, and the movement of our bodies each against the other was smooth. My wetness was dripping onto her thigh, and the sensation of rubbing against her was delicious torture.
Faster, deeper, harder. I couldn’t get enough of Annabel, would never tire of hearing the delightful sounds of pleasure coming from her. I could feel her walls tightening around my fingers and knew her release was imminent.
Our breasts rubbed together, heightening the bliss of the moment. So soft, so feminine, so perfectly and magically us. Annabel tensed, clenched around my fingers, and held her breath. I curved my fingers inside her and felt for the spot I knew would tip her over the edge.
