PALMA airport was always busy, and today was no exception. Lucy struggled to dodge the mounds of luggage and keep up with Marcus who, despite having their luggage to deal with, still somehow or other managed to have a positively ‘parting of the Red Sea’ effect on the crowds. They opened to allow him through, and then closed again, forcing her to fight her way through.
Marcus had now reached the exit, where he was being approached by two pretty girls wearing the uniforms of a certain car rental firm. Was it a car they were hoping to persuade him to hire, or a date they were hoping to be offered? Lucy wondered jealously as she finally caught up with him.
‘I was just explaining to these ladies that the hotel will have sent a car to collect us,’ he told Lucy.
‘The hotel? What hotel?’ Lucy demanded as he started to walk towards the waiting chauffeurs with their boards displaying clients’ names. ‘I thought we were staying with Beatrice.’
‘Did you? The villa’s quite small and remote, and since Beatrice is there to oversee some remedial work on the bathrooms I didn’t think it was a good idea for us to expect her to put us up. I’ve booked us into a hotel instead. It’s in Deia, very close to the Residencia, and supposed to be even better. And don’t worry about the bill. I shall be paying it. Ah, there’s our driver.’
If she stood on her tiptoes, she could just about see the smartly uniformed chauffeur holding up a placard that read ‘Hotel Boutique, Deia’.
Lucy knew Majorca quite well, since it had recently become very much one of the ‘in’ places to stay, following on from various celebs buying property in an exclusive enclave of villas and boutique hotels that had sprung up on a previously undeveloped part of the island’s coastline. The Residencia had been the place to stay in this upmarket resort, and from what she had heard the new Hotel Boutique was even more special. Lucy had heard rave reviews from clients who had stayed there.
Outside the airport, the warmth of the night air wrapped round her like soft cashmere as the chauffeur opened the doors of a large Mercedes limousine for them.
Marcus slid into the sea next to her and the chauffeur closed the doors.
‘Where exactly is Beatrice’s villa?’ she asked Marcus uncertainly as the Mercedes joined the queue of traffic waiting to leave the airport.
‘Up in the hills outside Palma.’
‘But that’s a long way from Deia,’ Lucy objected. ‘Wouldn’t it have been better for us to have stayed somewhere closer?’
‘The Boutique has an excellent reputation, and I thought you’d prefer to stay there.’
‘How long will it take us to get there?’ Lucy asked.
‘Not that long. Why?’
‘I need another caffeine fix. I’m desperate for cup of coffee.’
And he was desperate for her, Marcus found himself thinking. ‘Do you want me to ask the driver to stop somewhere?’
Lucy shook her head. ‘No, I’ll wait.’
She was beginning to feel tired, and more than a little bit headachy, but despite the comfort of the Mercedes she couldn’t relax properly—not with Marcus right there next to her.
The road climbed and turned, winding through the hills, and then started to drop down again. Below them Lucy could see the lights of villas, dotted either side of the river ravine, and below them the small harbour itself. Pure, perfect picture-postcard stuff.
The Mercedes turned in to a narrow stone tunnel beyond which lay a paved forecourt. Within seconds, or so it seemed, they were standing in the jasmine-scented coolness of the foyer, a huge fan whirring above their heads, traditional terracotta tiles underfoot, and the décor echoing the very best of traditional Majorcan interiors. The white walls were warmed by striking paintings and woven rugs in rich earthy colours.
‘If you will follow José, he will show you to your suites.’ The receptionist smiled as she handed Marcus two key cards, and a very young and very handsome young Majorcan appeared from out of nowhere to assist them.
The lift was tucked away discreetly in a corner, and as it bore them upwards José told them proudly, ‘You have the best suites in the whole hotel. The King of Spain himself, he has stayed there with his family.’
The lift stopped and José held the doors open, giving Lucy a small bow as he encouraged her to step through ahead of him.
A short, wide corridor lay in front of her, its walls painted white and hung with more paintings. Lucy was tempted to linger and inspect them more closely, drawn by the richness of the oil paint, but her head was pounding and she was desperate for coffee.
Only two doors opened off the corridor. José stopped at the first of them and opened the door, inviting Lucy to step inside.
As she did so, her eyes widened in appreciation. In front of her was a large room with a high ceiling, furnished with traditional dark, heavy wooden furniture which included a huge four-poster bed. Floor-to-ceiling wooden shutters filled one wall, and when José went to open them for her Lucy gasped in delight. The shutters concealed glass patio doors beyond which was a well-lit private terrace, complete with its own plunge pool, and beyond that an uninterrupted view of the sea and sky.
‘Thank you, José. I’ll find my own way around everything.’ Lucy smiled and tipped him so that he could leave and show Marcus to his suite.
As soon as she had closed the door behind Jose, Lucy picked up the telephone and hurriedly dialled Room Service. Only when she had ordered her much-needed coffee did she start to study the suite properly.
A wooden screen that could be folded back separated the bedroom from an integral, sensually luxurious huge round bath, set into the floor right in front of the patio windows so that one might lie in the bath and look out across the terrace and beyond it.
The wall opposite the patio doors was completely mirrored, as was the wall at right angles to it, and set against the right angle was an all-glass shower cubicle, so that in effect one could bathe or shower and see one’s reflection in the mirrors at the same time.
She heard a knock on her bedroom door. Her coffee! Wonderful! But when she went to open the door it was Marcus who was standing outside it.
‘I’ve brought you this,’ he told her, handing her a card key. ‘I’m going to ring Beatrice in a minute, and fix up a meeting with her for tomorrow, but so far as dinner tonight is concerned, there’s supposed to be an excellent restaurant down by the harbour. It’s eight now, so if I book a table for ten…?’
‘Yes. Fine,’ Lucy agreed, exhaling in relief as she saw the waiter coming down the corridor.
Ten minutes later, with her caffeine levels replenished, Lucy explored the rest of her suite.
In addition to her open plan bedroom-cum-bathroom, she also had a self-contained dressing room and a second bathroom, with another shower plus bidet and lavatory.
She would have to change before she went out for dinner. A shower would be speedier, but she just couldn’t resist the temptation to wallow self-indulgently in the bath.
Lucy lay soaking in the bubble-topped silky warm water of her bath, luxuriating in the sensuality of the experience. She had left her shutters open, so that she could enjoy the view out to sea should she feel energetic enough to lift her head off the bath pillow. Instead, though, she opened her eyes and looked towards the mirrored wall. There was something irresistibly sensual about the combination of a huge bath and a mirror in which one could see oneself using it. This was definitely a suite for lovers.
Lovers. There was only one man she wanted as her lover. Only one man she had ever wanted, full stop. And that man was Marcus.
Marcus.
Was his suite the same as her own? Was he right now lazing in a tub of hot water, his body naked beneath the suds? A shiver of sensual pleasure iced through her own inner heat, as pleasurable as ice-cream melted by hot chocolate sauce—only a thousand times more so.
But she suspected that Marcus was more likely to prefer a fierce shower to a lazy linger in a bath. And he still hadn’t said a word about last night.
Lucy closed her eyes and stroked the soapy water over her skin, imagining that it was still last night and that Marcus was here with her, touching her, stroking her. A wet heat that had nothing at all to do with the water flooded her sex. This was getting dangerous. But she couldn’t resist the temptation to lie there and fantasise, to imagine and remember. She closed her eyes…
She had almost fallen asleep in the bath! And look at the time! It was gone nine o’clock. Reaching for the plug, Lucy stepped up out of the bath and reached for one of the deliciously thick, fluffy towels. The mirror threw back her reflection—white soap bubbles slithering silkily down her body, covering her sex and then revealing it. She could feel the hot beat of her own desire as it pulsed out its hungry message. Her fingers touched her own body, stroking the foam from the swell of her mound and then moving lower. She watched her own movements in the mirrors, unable to look away. Her heart had started to race, a fierce wanton urgency filling her. Slowly and delicately, her tongue-tip pressed to her teeth, Lucy ran an experimental finger along her mound and pressed lightly against her clitoris.
Marcus…Immediately her flesh swelled and glistened richly, her heart pumping…
Somewhere outside the intensity of her concentration she heard a noise that sounded like a door opening…
A door opening! Immediately she removed her hand and reached for a towel, her face burning with self-conscious heat as she realised that Marcus was standing in her bedroom.
How long had he been there? How much had he seen? Behind him she could see what must be a connecting door between the two suites. He must have knocked, but she had obviously been too preoccupied to hear him. Her face burned with the knowledge of what she had so nearly been preoccupied with!
‘How much longer is it going to take you to get ready?’ he asked her. ‘Only it’s nearly nine-thirty now.’
He, Lucy recognised dizzily, was already changed, wearing a pair of light-coloured chinos with a darker-coloured top.
‘I’m virtually there,’ she replied, and then blushed vividly as she realised just what connotation could be placed on her comment, and how appropriate it had almost been. She did not dare look at Marcus as she almost scurried past him and into her dressing room.
‘It’s a long, steep walk down to the harbour, so I’ve asked the hotel to provide us with a car and a driver,’ Marcus announced as they walked into the foyer together, and Lucy glanced down at her strappy-sandal-shod feet. The same sandals she had been wearing yesterday. The same sandals one of which she had left on his stairs, and then found placed neatly with its twin this morning, alongside her clothes…
She wasn’t normally a fan of high-heeled shoes, but the dress she was wearing had a pretty handkerchief hem and demanded equally pretty footwear.
From the hotel, the road to the harbour wound down alongside the river, the wooded slopes broken up by the lights of a scattering of expensive luxury villas,
The harbour itself was tiny, and predictably filled with sleek expensive-looking yachts—just as the restaurants fronting onto the harbour were filled with equally sleek and expensive-looking diners.
This was very much Notting-Hill-on-Sea territory, Lucy thought ruefully. Within seconds of leaving their car and taking less than half a dozen steps, she had seen at least half a dozen famous faces amongst the groups of people already seated at the tables set up outside the restaurants and bars.
‘The place I’ve booked us into has a reputation for serving top-quality fish dishes,’ Marcus told her. ‘And, knowing how much you like fish, I thought you might prefer that to a more traditional tapas bar.’
‘Yes, I would,’ Lucy agreed, as she stifled a small yawn.
‘Sleepy?’
‘No, not really. I think my bath must have made me feel tired,’ Lucy responded without thinking, and then felt her whole body start to burn as she tensed, dreading hearing Marcus say that he knew exactly why she might be feeling tired.
There was really no reason for her to feel embarrassed about something so natural. Heavens, she didn’t know any women of her own age who were not prepared to trade opinions on the latest vibrator. But somehow the fact that Marcus might have seen her almost engaged in such a very intimate and personal act of self-pleasure made her feel acutely embarrassed. Especially after last night. Oh, yes, especially after last night. Now he might think that it was her desire for him that had prompted her to such a course of action.
He might think it, but she actually knew it, Lucy admitted to herself, as Marcus guided her between the packed tables and into the restaurant itself.
Typically, Marcus had managed to secure them a table with just about the best view of the harbour possible, and he had been right about the food as well, Lucy saw, when her own meal was placed in front her. Her mouth started to water. Pan-fried scallops with an Asian fusion-style warm salad. Marcus, she noted, had chosen a thick tuna steak.
‘More wine?’
Lucy shook her head firmly. She was already on her second glass, and beginning to feel pleasantly relaxed. She didn’t need or want any more.
Marcus had only had two glasses himself, although she noticed that, unlike her, he did not nod his head when the waiter asked if they wanted coffee.
‘Espresso?’ he commented after she had given her order. ‘You’ll never sleep.’
‘Watch me,’ Lucy answered flippantly, and then went bright red. Heavens, Marcus was going to think she was propositioning him if she kept on saying idiotic things like that.
Watch her? Oh, he would love to…And not only watch, either.
‘What time did you say we were seeing Beatrice tomorrow?’ Lucy asked Marcus hastily, trying to sound businesslike and efficient.
‘She’s going to ring me in the morning to confirm,’ Marcus told her as he glanced at his watch. ‘I don’t want to rush you, but the car should be back for us any minute now.’
Her coffee had arrived and Lucy drank it greedily, relishing both its smell and its taste, while Marcus summoned their waiter and asked for the bill.
She certainly wasn’t going to risk having another bath after what had happened earlier, Lucy decided as she locked her suite door and stepped out of her sandals. Instead she would make do with a shower. She yawned sleepily.
After last night, and then Marcus walking in on her and almost finding her touching herself, she should have been on edge all evening, but instead she had actually felt very relaxed—so relaxed, in fact, that on a couple of occasions she had even laughed. Marcus had proved to be an unexpectedly entertaining and interesting dinner companion, and she had been sorry when the evening had come to an end—and not just because, given the choice, she would have so much preferred to end it in Marcus’s arms, in Marcus’s bed.
She undressed quickly and pulled on the complimentary bathrobe before tidying away her clothes and heading for the shower.
She had just stepped out of it and towelled herself her dry when she heard a knock on her patio window. She realised that Marcus was standing outside, beckoning to her. Like her, he too was wearing a bathrobe, but whereas on her it fell to the floor and trailed behind her, on Marcus it only just covered his knees. The sight of the bare tanned flesh of his legs made the muscles in her lower body clench in unmistakable need.
Fighting down her reaction, she went to open the door, pulling her own robe protectively around her as she did so. Marcus had obviously walked across from his own suite, she recognised, and she realised that they actually shared the terrace, which ran the full length of both suites.
‘Marcus, I was just about to go to bed,’ she protested.
He ignored her, taking hold of her arm and commanding, ‘Come and look at this,’ as he drew her towards the stone parapet that edged the terrace.
‘Look at what?’ she demanded, and then stood still, a soft ‘Oh!’ of pleasure escaping from her lips as down below their hotel, at one of the villas, fireworks exploded in a burst of scarlet stars.
‘Fireworks,’ she whispered, entranced.
‘I remembered how much you like them.’ Marcus smiled.
‘They’re magical—like champagne in the sky,’ Lucy responded softly. ‘Someone must be celebrating something.’
As he wanted to celebrate her, Marcus thought. But in a far more private and intimate way. He would gladly create sexual fireworks for her if she would just allow him.
Another burst of stars followed the first one, this time a shower of sparkling silver and white against the night dark sky.
She looked as excited and enthralled as a small child, Marcus reflected, as she hung onto the stone balustrade and watched. But she wasn’t a child.
Lucy could feel Marcus standing behind her, the warmth of his body taking the chill of the evening breeze from hers and making her want to lean back against him…skin to skin…whilst the fireworks lit the sky and her own desire exploded inside her. She looked down. Marcus was leaning forward to get a better view of the fireworks, his hands either side of her own, so that she was enclosed between his body and the parapet.
A burst of gold and crimson exploded into the darkness before falling back to earth…
‘Oh, Marcus…’ Without thinking, she turned round. He was so close to her. So very close.
‘Marcus…’ She looked up at his mouth and swallowed.
Oh, God, but she wanted him.
‘They’ve finished now. I’d better go in,’ she told him jerkily, almost pushing him out of her way in her desperate need to get away from him before she did something even more stupid than she had done already.
She was in so much of a rush that she didn’t realise he had followed her inside her suite and was closing the patio door until it was too late.
She couldn’t even move when he began to walk towards her, her mouth suddenly too dry for her to speak and her legs too weak for her to move.
In complete silence he took hold of her hand and drew her with him toward the bath and then past it, until they were standing in front of the mirror. Just where she had been standing earlier, when he had…
The colour came and went in her face as he took her in his arms and started to kiss her, holding her face in his hands whilst he brushed her trembling lips over and over again with his own, until she had forgotten everything but her own need to have his mouth on her now, longer and harder. Her own hands rose to cover his shoulders, her fingers digging deep into the muscles as she shuddered fiercely beneath the sudden thrusting possession of his tongue. She felt his hands on her body, pushing the robe off her shoulders, and immediately she dropped her arms so that she could step out of it.
Very slowly Marcus turned her round and drew her back against himself, so that she was facing the mirror and he was standing behind her. His hands skimmed her body, stroking her skin, cupping her breasts, whilst her nipples pushed eagerly against his touch and his mouth teased the sensitive pleasure spot just behind her ear.
Her whole body arched as the breath left her lungs in a sob of erotic longing. Helplessly Lucy closed her eyes—half shocked by the sight of her own naked arousal and the erotic movement of Marcus’s hands over her body, and half so aroused by it that she wanted him to take her there and then. To bend her forward until she could rest her hands against the mirror, whilst her hair tumbled round her face and Marcus spread open her thighs, sliding his hands up to her hips whilst he plunged into the female heart of her in a position that was so sensually, shockingly, eternally primitive and immediate.
She was wet, so very wet, and hot and aching, her muscles quivering in anticipation of the pleasure and satisfaction her body craved.
‘Open your eyes, Lucy, and look in the mirror.’
Very slowly, she did so.
Marcus caressed her naked shoulders, his hands sliding down to cup her breasts whilst he kissed her throat. The sensation of the slightly rough pads of his fingertips against the exquisite sensitivity of her tight nipples made her cry out and arch her back, to bring her breasts closer to his caress while she pressed her buttocks back against him in eager, urgent movement.
‘Is that good?’
His voice sounded thicker, deeper, sending a message to her own senses like a note running along a wire. He was plucking erotically at her nipples, his tanned skin a contrast to her own pale softness and the dark hot flush of her engorged flesh.
His hands moved lower down, over her ribcage, lower…Lucy sighed and squirmed, closing her eyes in anticipation of the pleasure to come.
‘No…open your eyes and watch me,’ Marcus insisted thickly.
He was stroking her sex. Lucy couldn’t remove her aroused gaze from the movement of his hands. Her heart started to hammer against the wall of her chest as slowly and deliberately he folded back the soft flesh—just as she herself had done earlier. She looked into the mirror and saw in his eyes that he had seen her, had known what she was thinking. What she had been wanting. What she had been on the verge of doing….
‘Isn’t this better?’ he demanded softly. ‘Why pleasure yourself, Lucy, when I can do it for you?’
His mouth caressed the magic spot just below her ear and her whole body convulsed.
‘Did you know that the nerve-endings in this spot here are directly connected to your nerve-endings right here?’ she heard him whisper in her ear, as he kissed her skin again and stroked his fingers over the eager, dark pink wetness of her sex, rubbed his thumb-tip slowly over her clitoris.
Once. Twice. And then faster. Until she was breathing frantically fast and her whole body was shuddering in the grip of orgasm.
She couldn’t move. She couldn’t even stand. She felt boneless, weightless…and pleasured. Pleasured, but not satisfied, she knew, as Marcus swung her up into his arms and carried her over to the bed.
Only when he had placed her on it and removed his own robe, only when her reckless longing had directed her fingers to reach out and stroke the length of his erection and back again, and she had allowed herself to enjoy the delicious pleasure touching him had relayed via her fingertips to each and every one of her senses, did she think to say uncertainly, ‘Marcus, I don’t think we should be doing this…’
‘Why ever not? You enjoyed it last night, didn’t you?’
Enjoyed it? Of course she’d enjoyed it. But that wasn’t the issue, or the point she was trying to make.
And yet she was murmuring dizzily, ‘Oh, yes, I did.’
‘And so did I. So there’s no problem, is there?’
‘No, I don’t suppose there is,’ Lucy agreed weakly.
How could there be any kind of problem when Marcus was touching her like this? Kissing her like this? ‘Mmm,’ she sighed happily against his mouth, and she reached up and wrapped her arms tightly around him.