They stood by the car, no longer touching. The breeze gently rustled the tall grass, blew wisps of hair around her face, and filled her lungs with the smell of impending winter. Claire watched his expression as he spoke. It had been so long since she’d felt anything. Suddenly, she fought the rapid mixture of emotions that stirred inside of her.
Tony watched as her eyes, which had been dull and dead, contained a small spark. “Tony, I remember. I remember what you were doing and saying. I remember you saying I would need to be alone for a while to think about who to talk to and who not to talk to.” Tony nodded his head. He’d said that. Claire’s eyes brimmed with tears and her chest swelled with fear, but she had to know. “Is that still coming?”
He reached out to grab her shoulders. He intended to be gentle, but Claire backed away, tripped, and fell onto the ground. His eyes said gentle but she remembered fury. She didn’t know what to think or feel. Not feeling was so much easier. Confusion, apprehension, anger, and dread all showed in her eyes. He followed her to the ground. “Claire, please stop.” He knelt beside her. “No, that isn’t coming. I don’t think you need any more reminders on how to behave, do you?” She said no, she didn’t. “Claire, may I please touch you?”
She started to tremble again. Sobs resonated from her chest. His voice still gentle but firm. “You know I don’t need your permission to touch you. I don’t need your permission to do anything.” Claire’s eyes closed. She tried to swallow her sobs. She nodded her head yes. She knew too well her permission was not necessary. “But I would like to have it. Please, may I have your consent?”
She braced herself and opened her eyes. She looked at him and his brown eyes. She closed her eyes again and said, “Okay.”
He scooted next to her, sitting on the cold hard ground, and softly placed his arm around her back. He could feel her tension. He gently bent down and tenderly kissed her lips, very lightly brushing his lips against hers. She didn’t back away. He could smell her hair blowing in the breeze. It reminded him of flowers. “Have I told you how much I like the highlights in your hair?” She shook her head no. He lightly stroked her hair. “I think you are amazing. You are so strong and resilient. I don’t deserve your forgiveness for what I did, but you deserve to hear me ask for it.” She didn’t want to look at him. Her emotions were too raw. She wanted to forgive him.
He didn’t touch her, instead he moved himself in front of her so they were eye to eye. “Claire, I am sorry I hurt you.” She felt the tears as she tried to maintain eye contact. He gently took her hands. “I ask that one day you will consider forgiving me.” He kissed her hands.
When she looked into his eyes she saw sadness and remorse. The swirl of emotions that had so violently erupted at the estate now settled into her chest. She wanted the sadness to go away. He’d been so patient. He was being so tender. She didn’t forgive him, but she began to respond to his advances. It started with kissing, he kissed her and she began to kiss him. Then she felt her hands as they caressed his arms and shoulders. Tony bulged with excitement, yet he didn’t rush or push. He stayed compassionate and tender.
“Tony, I’m scared.”
“I promise I will be gentle.” For some reason, she believed him.
“Can we please go home to a nice soft bed?” He quietly stood and helped Claire to her feet. She took his offered hand. They walked back to the car, this time she got in willingly.
When they pulled up to the house, Claire leaned over. “I really want this. But please be gentle.” He parked the car, walked around to her door, and helped her out of the car. They walked up the front steps hand in hand, where hours before she’d been hysterical. When he opened the door he scooped Claire into his arms, and instead of going up to her suite, carried her to his room. While he held her, she closed her eyes and nuzzled his neck. The aroma of his skin and cologne intoxicated her.
She had never, in all the time she’d been there, been in his bedroom. It was grand, almost royal. The walls were covered with cherry paneling and ornate carpentry. One wall was covered with a large screen framed like a picture, like the one in his office. His bed was massive, tall and larger than a normal king-sized. There were steps to reach the height of the mattress.
He gently placed her on his bed. She watched as he slowly removed her shoes. Then he unbuttoned and tenderly removed her jacket, her blouse, and her jeans. He removed his own clothes while she observed his every move. He was gorgeous, and his moves were slow and sensual. He softly kissed her, causing her to lie back. She looked up at the beautiful ornate ceiling. She felt his lips move down her body. They lingered at her neck, at her breast, stopping to lick and suckle her nipple. Claire’s back arched, and she pressed her breasts toward Tony. He continued to touch her warm body, taste her skin, and inhale her scent.
She hadn’t realized it before that moment, but after experiencing orgasms routinely the void of the past two months had left her wanting. Her body was now alive, on full alert, and every nerve was electrified. He fondled her breasts and gently twisted her nipples. She moaned in ecstasy. He stopped. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry. Do you want me to stop?”
She pleaded, “No, god no. Please don’t stop.”
He allowed his lips to move from her breasts to her flat stomach and over her protruding hipbones. He tenderly spread her legs and kissed her inner thighs. She feared she would explode before he ever reached his destination. Next his tongue affectionately awakened her desires. He satisfied every need she’d ever had and ones she’d forgotten. He moved slowly and deliberately, sensual and romantic, compassionate and loving.
He had been patient and remorseful. Now it was his turn to experience a favorable consequence. His pleasure came by pleasing her. His actions took everything away. And now his actions brought everything back and more.
Nothing is more common on earth than to deceive and be deceived. —Johann G. Seume
Chapter 22
The ashtray overflowed with cigarette butts. Samuel Rawls and Jared Clawson sat, while Nathaniel Rawls paced. The large polished conference table was barely visible beneath the magnitude of papers. The players no longer worked from the New Jersey office above the textile factory as they did five years ago. Instead, the view from the conference table or large mahogany desk is now that of Cedar Street, in the heart of Manhattan’s financial district.
“Rawls stock is up another five-eighths after heavy trading. The rumors that circulated today about the quarterly report helped with that increase,” Clawson said as he leaned back in the comfortable leather chair, adjusting his suit jacket.
Nathaniel’s track around the large office included peering out toward the NYSE and circling the desk to see the large computer screens that relayed the most up-to-date stock information. Exhaling a large gray cloud, he asked the question that sat heavily on his and Samuel’s minds, “But what happens when it is discovered that the rumors and reality are different?”
“Shit hits the fan.” Clawson smiled. “So we don’t tell anyone.”
Samuel rubbed his throbbing head. “What do you mean we don’t tell anyone? The quarterly earnings report will be released tomorrow. The investors will find out that our capital is down. That last string of investments wiped out millions.”
“Numbers are funny things. I have a copy here of an alternative report. The numbers are all legitimate, but the information is written with a more positive slant.” Clawson distributed the report. The room filled with uncomfortable silence as the two Rawls men read the new report.