Primula Bond - The Unbreakable Trilogy

He knows it. Because now he’s pushing my legs open again, and bringing something up between them, right into me. It’s a ribbon, and he starts to rub it on me. The friction is unbearable, rough and sweet at the same time, like rubbing flint on flint to make a fire. I bury my head in the cushion, taking in short gasps of breath, loving the lightheadedness. It’s like hyperventilating a free, natural high. My already acute senses make everything bright and exaggerated, like a cartoon.

‘My little dish of delight just lying there,’ Gustav growls to himself. At last. A really bestial timbre in his voice. ‘So why am I always denying myself?’

I wriggle eagerly. I want him so badly it hurts. The movement sucks the ribbon right up into me, and it rubs against the little bud that’s jutting out, burning and begging for attention. He sees me writhe and makes the ribbon taut, rubbing it cruelly, harder and faster against my clitoris, and that’s it. A couple of swipes and I explode, instantly, bucking crazily against the ribbon as all that pent-up frustration and anger pumps out. I rub against the ribbon, the cushions, the sofa, my bottom jerking frantically. I’m aware of how it will look on film, but I don’t care.

I lie there limply until my senses reassemble and I start to feel acutely self-conscious. The dying spasms mock me, because they won’t go away. I’m restless, wracked with brazen sexual desire. Oh, God, I want him in me, now.

Where is he?

Suddenly the storm is back, doing its best to shake the house down, break the windows, tear off all the tiles. Breaking the spell. Gustav is pulling off my blindfold now. He unties the silver chain, sits me up. He even rearranges the long velvet skirt over my knees.

He thumps down beside me. The flames reflected in his lustful eyes leap up in their candelabra and candle sticks, sending shadows careering around the room. His handsome face is shaded into canine planes and angles. This could be it.

The Adam’s apple juts in his throat as he swallows. He leans closer, his eyes half closed, his face right up to my cheek. His nostrils flare as he breathes in the scent and sweat on my skin. His fingers come up and frame my jaw, and then he turns my head sideways, stretching my throat. His breath rasps hot, burning hot, on my neck. My pulse beats frantically as if hammering to get out. His mouth slides down under my ear, his lips dry at first, then getting wet as they linger over the spot. The tip of his tongue touches my pulse, like a little arrow.

He’s gripping my arms unnecessarily hard. Can’t he see that I’m not going anywhere? I’m his. I stretch out my hand and slide it up his thigh. Something tells me to move slowly and quietly. We are both panting hard, our breath mingling. I turn to him, push my hands onto the burgeoning hardness.

‘I’m here for the taking, Gustav. All clean and new. Don’t you want me?’

‘Right now?’ His teeth graze on my neck, his mouth moving against my skin. ‘More than I’ve ever wanted anyone.’

‘We fit so well together.’ I press harder, to show him I want him. ‘We’re all alone. You’re the boss. What’s stopping us?’

The final crash of thunder is so timely it’s as if someone is sitting out on the terrace with a bank of sound effects. But it’s broken the spell. I shouldn’t have spoken. I should have just touched him, made him putty in my hands. Because my words have snapped him out of his reverie. He picks up the little whip and flings it across the room.

‘ She is. Rearing her ugly head, just when I thought I’d banished her for good.’

The whip skitters against a glass lamp beside the fire and we both watch as the lamp wavers, totters, and then smashes onto the floor.

The silence is thick and suffocating. I daren’t break it.

‘I thought you and I were the same.’ He rubs his black hair so that it stands up in furious spikes. ‘Both been down a dark path. But I got it wrong. You lived your life as best you could, a lovely, healthy, feminine child who couldn’t extricate herself. But I’m an adult who should have known better. I should have got out before it damaged everyone.’

‘Who is this “she” who’s done a number on you, Gustav?’ I try to unfold his fingers from the fist. ‘Is it your ex-wife that’s freaked you out?’

‘Margot is her name.’ He jumps up and goes to pour himself more wine, kicking out at the little whip. ‘Still contaminating everything.’

‘Forget her. I’m here. You’ve saved me, Gustav. Histrionic, but true.’ I stretch my arms out. That woman’s name has scared me stiff. I have to reach him before he slips through my fingers. ‘Let me count the ways. The exhibition. This house. What you’ve shown me. What you did to me just then. It’s saved me from all the shit. So let me help you.’

‘I can’t let you. Watching you submitting to whatever I dealt you just then, the catharsis, the release, that was thrilling. But it’s had the opposite effect on me.’

He can’t even look at me directly now. Through the mirror he stares at me as if from the bottom of a deep well.

‘It’s my job to make you feel better.’ I gulp back the tears. ‘Let me please you in return.’

The silver chain hangs loosely between us. He draws it taut, like a surgical scar.

‘I can’t let you near me with that thing.’ He tips more red wine from a crystal decanter into two big goblets. The muscle is working furiously in his jaw.

‘Not the whip, then. How about simple tender loving care?’ I shrink back into the sofa. ‘Or perhaps you just want to be left alone?’

He shakes his head, handing a full goblet to me. He doesn’t come closer. I take a sip, spilling a little on my leg. She’s in here, alright. She’s a shadow sliding in between us. The rain spits against the window, filling the long, heavy silence.

Margot is her name.

‘If you want to help me, there is another way,’ he bursts out, putting the glass down suddenly. ‘Come to Switzerland. We’ll get out of the city, breathe in some Alpine air.’ His eyes flash back to life. ‘I haven’t been back there for more than five years. It’s time to clear the house. Tackle those lingering ghosts. You can be my mascot.’

‘There are ghosts in Switzerland? What about right here in Mayfair?’ I glance about at the flickering candles, the huge yawning fireplace. The man standing there, tapping his foot as he waits for my answer.

‘She’s not here, Serena. If this house is haunted, they’re not my ghosts. The day I met you in the square was the day I completed the purchase.’

‘But you look as if you’ve lived here for centuries!’ I think of the mournful portrait hanging on the landing. The glittering, fully stocked kitchen. The old furniture so at home in my bedroom.

‘Like a wizened old vampire, you mean?’ The etched lines in his face disappear as he smiles slightly. I can do that to him. I know it now. I can make him smile whenever I like. ‘Nope. The new owner.’

‘We are the same, you see?’ I raise my glass to him before draining it. ‘Both wiping our slates clean.’

‘This house is my clean slate, yes. But there’s unfinished business in Lugano.’ He takes my empty glass from me. ‘Let’s go wrap it up.’

‘So I’m a removal man now, am I?’ I’m deliciously woozy now. ‘Just one thing. If we go ghost-busting in Switzerland, what happens about my exhibition?’

‘It’ll take care of itself for the time being. Crystal can oversee any sales. And I’ve arranged some media interviews for you for when we get back. They’re clamouring for you, girl. So what do you say? Will you come on another voyage of discovery with me?’

He runs his finger up and down the goblet, waiting anxiously for my reply.