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Zoë took another sip of the brandy. She’d already had wine with her meal, but it was too good. Glancing around, she noticed that almost everyone was gone. A lone waiter was folding tablecloths. “It must be quite something to be connected to a village with so much heritage.”
“Oh, yes, so much to explore and enjoy.” He smiled, as if to himself. “Come,” he said, standing, taking her hand. He gestured at the large glass doors that lined one wall. “Let me show you what I mean.”
Curious, she picked up her purse and went along with him. He led her through the doors and onto a wide, tiled terrace that stood at the very edge of the cliff overlooking the sea. The sound of waves crashing against the cliff wall reached them from below. The area was closed in by wrought-iron banisters and there were matching ironwork tables and chairs arranged in groups across the terrace. On the left she noticed that steps ran down the outside of the restaurant to join up with the road to the village. Cain took her over to the wrought-iron railing and made an expansive gesture with his hand over the bay and the sky. “Just look at the view.”
He stood close behind her and she felt a little uneasy. Then he lifted her hair from the back of her neck and began to massage her shoulders as he spoke, as if they were old friends, or lovers, even. Instinctively she went to pull away, but his hands held her. His fingers were quick and deft, moving into the knots of muscle at the base of her neck, releasing the tension that had built there during the long drive from London.
Any anxiety she might have felt over his intimacy quickly ebbed away from her under his ministrations. Resistance was gone. In its place she felt something like a lazy trance taking hold of her.
He was right, she noticed, the view of the bay and the harbor was mesmerizing from up here. It appeared so much more dramatic than when she had admired it during her walk up to the restaurant. She could see right along the bay, from up here on the cliff top. The village with lights dotted here and there in cottage windows, the main street running out to Shore Lane where the lights grew dim and dropped away into the sea. The occasional light out along the marina united the land and the sea. She breathed in the air. It had to be past ten o’clock, but it was still comfortably warm enough to be out here in just a slip of a dress.
“The coastline can be welcoming or desolate, depending on the time of year,” Cain continued, “but it’s always beautiful. It’s a place that demands you live up to it. I wasn’t prepared for that, when I was younger. As I got older it called to me again. I wanted the challenge of drawing people here.”
He was very good with his hands, she silently mused, as they moved across her shoulders, massaging all the while. What with that, the good food, wine and the brandy, she felt more relaxed than she had in ages. “You seem to be doing well, plenty of customers.”
“Oh, yes.”
She sensed it wasn’t customers he wanted to talk about, and she was right.
“The village itself is steeped in history,” he continued. “Some of the most powerful witches of all time have practiced their magic in these parts.”
Witches? What was it with everyone and this talk of witches? “There you go talking about magic again,” she responded, lazily amused by his remark. Maybe it was getting close to Halloween and they were just getting into the spirit of it.
“You’ll feel it soon enough.” He bent close to her neck and she felt his mouth whisper across her skin, a ghostly touch that made static cling to her skin.
“Just look at the stars,” he whispered close against her ear. “See how bright they are…now that you are here.”
Now that I am here? What did that mean?
The question flitted through her mind and then slipped away, because the stars did seem brighter, and closer, and as she stared at them the sound of the waves lapping against the rocks below grew louder. Her senses were fogged, but her skin raced with excitement, her breath coming ever faster.
His hands moved to her shoulders. “See how they grow even brighter just because you are looking at them.”
It was true. Here and there across the night sky the light and color intensified, then exploded, like fireworks. As she watched, the color filled her mind. She felt him close against her back, and he was solid and warm, and he had an erection. It made her whimper aloud.
Her head dropped back, her eyelids instinctively lowering. She heard her purse drop to the ground, but barely cared. Grappling for the railing, her pulse grew erratic. The pit of her belly throbbed with heat, her pussy growing heavy with arousal. It swamped her. Her body felt as if it were somewhere between fluid and electricity. The pressure of his cock through their clothes was too good. It made her want to pull up her dress, drop forward over the railing, and have him enter her from behind. Her body swished and swayed of its own accord, her hips rocking against him.
Cain’s voice still reached her, and then she thought she heard female laughter echoing in the distance. Maybe I’m drunk, she thought, and one of the staff has seen me out here with him, cavorting in the dark. The thought wisped away before it took hold. She was adrift, and as her eyes closed again she felt as if she were floating on a tide of unfamiliar but pleasurable sensations.
Her perception wavered, then altered. When her senses sharpened she found herself kneeling on a bed covered in red and black satin sheets. Cain was still behind her and she knew she was naked and that he was thrusting into her pussy from behind. But what harnessed Zoë’s attention most of all was the fact she was kneeling over another woman, a naked woman, a woman whose hands were tied to the iron struts of the bed with a length of rope.
It was Elspeth, the postmistress.
Elspeth’s head rolled against her taut, bound arms and her hair spilled down toward her breasts. The lines of her body were smooth, soft and lean, and as she undulated against her restraints, Zoë’s body resonated with an echo of movement and need. Elspeth widened her kohl-lined eyes at Zoë. Ruby lipstick was smudged on her lips and Zoë knew that she’d done that. She’d been kissing that mouth when Cain first thrust inside her. She didn’t quite remember it, but the knowledge was there in her mind.
Cain’s hands locked on her hips, holding her steady, which was just as well. Elspeth’s legs were wide-open, her breasts lolling indolently to the sides. Her left nipple was pierced with the same kind of ring that she had in her ears, and Zoë could smell her female scent in the air. It made her writhe and dip, seeking out the source.
“Come on, you know you want to,” Elspeth whispered.
She did, she wanted to run her tongue into the glistening slit of Elspeth’s pussy. It was shaved bare, and her
clit was large and swollen, the folds that framed it slick with juice.
Intoxicated, Zoë dipped her head down and rested a kiss on the bump of Elspeth’s clit. The soft flesh gave way around it, focusing her mouth on the jutting head of her clit. It made Zoë desperate and she shoved her hips back, her core clenching on the hard cock thrusting inside of her.
Elspeth’s body rose and fell and Zoë circled her clit with her tongue, everything else shifting in and out of focus when she tasted the nub and felt its resistance against her tongue. She sank her tongue down between the swollen folds of her pussy, tasting the silky nectar of the bound woman, her tongue moving easily into the entrance of Elspeth’s sex.
Elspeth responded by thrashing and moaning, and Zoë liked that. She thrust her tongue again, reveling in the woman’s receptive flesh.
