Refracted Crystal: Diamonds and Desire Read online

  And so they were to be married. She glanced down at the diamond ring on her finger again. It was beautiful, of course, but she had insisted that it shouldn’t be so ostentatious as to embarrass her. She recalled with amusement his first such gift to her, a fabulously expensive necklace of sapphires, and how she had sold it to buy her liberty—from him as much as from her tedious job, her mundane life. Shaking her head slightly, she recalled all those mistakes she had made and, with a little sadness, how she had nearly lost him.

  And yet as she looked across at his face, so peaceful and gentle now, she realised that all was not well, that all was far from perfect in their world. She would have liked to think that she brought him peace, but unfortunately that was not true. Daniel Stone was as hard as the diamond on her finger in many ways: cracking him open to let the light in was a difficult task, and she suspected that to find out everything she wanted to know would take her a lifetime. So be it. She had a lifetime to give him.

  But while he obviously struggled with his empire, always trying to keep some things from her until, one day, she reminded him angrily that she was not some fluffy artist with her head in the clouds but had had to work, toil and fucking labour. That had broken some of the tension between them: still he did not tell her everything—so many years of privacy and silence had formed a barrier that was hard to break and which would not be undone overnight. When she looked into his eyes, however, she knew that he was trying: he wanted to be open, but the stone of his heart could only be gently warmed by the fires of her love. Their passions in the bedroom blazed as they took each other voraciously, but to uncover his inner self she had to be as gentle and as soft as the morning sun.

  And so some things only emerged piece by piece. Kris found herself a little more disturbed by Felix’s tirade the night before, however. Remember when we’d go to Victor’s? Pick us up a few whores? Land a good deal and then go and fuck the night away in celebration. Real fucking orgies when you were a real man. She wanted to scoff at this: Daniel was more of a real man than Felix, with his ersatz hair and elaborate mannerisms, would ever be.

  Victor’s. A name, nothing more. She suspected, however, that this was a key to part of Daniel’s past.

  Unbidden, and largely unwelcome, her thoughts returned to Maria Gosselin, the lawyer who had attempted to seduce her away from Daniel. The French woman had told her of the club that Daniel was a member of in New York, a place he had taken her to many times when she had been his submissive, a power-play arrangement that was so very different to what existed between Kris and Daniel. The lawyer could never understand that Kris and Daniel were more than a contract.

  Victor’s. She was sure it was the same place. Daniel had told her that he had not been there a long time—the distaste in his eyes when he had spoken of it convinced her that he was not lying. Indeed, his quiet fury last night when Felix brought it up made her even more certain.

  Victor’s. It was his past, and as such she should probably let it go, let it lie peacefully asleep. And yet the more that Kris thought about Daniel’s past, of what he had done and been before he met her, the more she wanted to know. She fully understood that she was being foolish and yet it was also a source of quiet frustration for her: she had opened up to Daniel so easily, allowed him to enter her not just physically—dominating her to fulfil needs that were almost inchoate—but also mentally, emotionally, spiritually even. He had been the key to opening up her life and freeing her from her past, allowing her to remember so that she could finally forget. Now she wanted to do the same for him.

  Plus, when it all came down to it, she was basically as nosey as hell.

  They were picked up from JFK airport by Daniel’s driver, Frank, and taken to their usual hotel, the exquisite Plaza near Central Park. Although Daniel had to spend so much time in New York, sometimes leaving her to work in her apartment in Lisbon while he jetted between meetings, he had never quite taken the step of buying a residence in the city although they had often spoken about it. Kris had the sense that something in Daniel resented New York: certainly he was increasingly less happy whenever he returned. Indeed, he seemed to treat this current visit as some kind of penance enforced on him before he could enjoy the real purpose of their trip to the States—a honeymoon in San Francisco.

  Not that Kris minded so much. She was still enough of a novice traveller to take pure, undisguised pleasure in her trips to the city. She did not accompany him every time, but when she did she indulged a fully materialistic pleasure, throwing herself into shopping, galleries and dining like there was no tomorrow.

  And it was hardly that they lived in penury as they spent their days together in the hotel. The suite was spacious, luxurious, and as their bags were brought up to their rooms Kris went through to the bathroom, discarding her shoes, blouse and skirt and finally underwear in a trail that she knew would lead Daniel to his final destination.

  He was arranging a few things with the porter while she entered the marble-covered bathroom—a touch ostentatious but the kind of luxury that Kris gladly endured for a few days: her artistic soul could cope with it, she was sure.

  And yet behind that mocking observation was a slight worry: the life she had enjoyed for the past year was so far away from her earlier existence that there was a real danger that she would become disjointed, uprooted. It was a fairy tale, with the attendant consideration that one day she would wake up and discover that it was all unreal.

  She shook her head at this: why was she suddenly so morbid? It was that bastard Felix’s fault: he had broken her idyll with Daniel. Never mind: she intended to wash him away just as she intended to shower away all of London and forget it for the next few, very important days.

  As she caught sight of her naked body in the mirror, she shuddered slightly. She remembered what someone had told her once, not entirely unkindly as it had transpired: Daniel typically preferred his women taller and thinner. Kris had never been tall, her Portuguese heritage making her small, dark and petite, and she had soon discovered that whatever bland aesthetic Daniel claimed to appreciate (or, more accurately, what his associates claimed he appreciated) was nothing like the warm, lustful, voluptuous beauty that she had given him—a sensuality that was to be felt, held, taken, not placed up on some fucking pedestal.

  Voluptuous was one thing. Getting fat, however, was not part of the deal. Daniel claimed never to mind, and indeed the passions of their lovemaking led her to believe him. But as she felt the weight of her breasts and pinched the slight bulge on her hips, Kris determined that whatever she was planning to do in New York over the next few days too much fine dining was not it.

  Shaking her head to dismiss such thoughts, she climbed into the shower. A few moments later, as steam rose up around her and droplets of hot water splashed deliciously over her head and body, spattering the glass screen, she heard Daniel enter. He was still in his shirt and trousers as he pulled back the screen and a few droplets of water fizzed across the white fabric.

  “Hello stranger,” she said in her most seductive voice, her hands squeezed between her breasts, the soap running down them, her nipples stiff.

  “If you’re part of room service,” he said with a sly grin before bending forward to kiss one of her soapy breasts, her nipple brushing against his nose, “I must remember to come here more often.” As his head extended into the shower, so more water cascaded over him, turning the white fabric across his broad shoulders translucent, his muscles moving slightly beneath.

  Lifting his head once more, she let her soapy fingers move along his neck and his face, pulling him to her hungrily. When their lips met, hers parted for his tongue and she greedily sucked it in, moving her face from side to side so that she could eat him up. Still clothed, utterly careless of everything else, he climbed fully into the shower now, his shirt quickly transformed into a barely visible barrier as her hands moved eagerly across his strong pectorals, tearing at the buttons, yanking aside fabric. He in turn caressed her breasts, hands firm on her sof
t flesh, making it yield beneath his fingers before moving them down across her waist, her hips, around her buttocks and pulling her wet, warm body into his.

  She could feel his stiffness in his trousers, already soaking wet, and she in turn became a river between her legs. Fuck! She wanted him now, needed him desperately. Her own nimble fingers dipped down, felt him, squeezed him. She always lusted for this power over him, the power to make him desire her. That he gave it to her so easily, so readily, meant that she in turn was willing to do more for him than for any other man she had ever known.

  As she drew him out, feeling his incredible stiffness in her hand with a heat that matched the steam-filled humidity of the shower around them, she emitted a small groan, chafing and masturbating that hard length. He kissed her powerfully on the neck, almost biting her as he took her skin between his teeth then let go and moved to her mouth, his lips on hers a potent bruise as he forced his tongue once more into her and eagerly sought the secret between her legs with his strong fingers.

  She gave it to him without compromise. Letting him turn her so that she faced the tiled wall of the shower, she placed her hands and head against the cool surface and let him pull her buttocks up slightly, her back arching as she lifted herself onto her toes. He, stooping down so that his erection was level with her sex, looked slightly ridiculous in his soaking clothes—but also so damn horny, so fucking desperate for her that she began to flood again between her thighs.

  When he entered her, a stretching of her inside that did not become any less desirable the more familiar it was, so she closed her eyes and surrendered to him completely. Whatever doubts, whatever fears she had had before that moment, all were dissolved now in water and sex. She forgot herself completely as he began to move in and out of her, gripping her wet buttocks and holding himself firm as he took her there. One hand came up to her breast, feeling its weight as though made for it, squeezing her: a firm, dominant, possessive grip. It hurt her slightly, a delicious, longed-for pain that caused her to whimper, and the movements of his buttocks now became faster, stronger, his cock harder inside her, her own orgasm beginning to build and flower.

  Not that he relented. Still clothed in his soaking shirt and trousers, oblivious to everything other than her body, he began to slam into her, lifting her from the floor of the shower with each thrust. She whimpered in delight and submission as he fucked her. He was so large inside her that the tip of him rammed into the tender neck of her womb, and more than once she cried, her whole body electric with passion and the sensuous flood of the water from the shower.

  As they came together, he half collapsed against her and pressed her to the cold surface which felt pleasantly cool. “Oh, wow,” she whispered, turning her head again to kiss him on the lips, tasting him, savouring him.

  “Yes,” he whispered. “Wow.” He was still inside her, his large cock only slowly beginning to wilt and withdraw: she felt her sex aching at the withdrawal. She had been so sensitive down there recently—indeed, her entire body was increasingly sensitive to his touch so that sometimes he only had to lay a finger on her for Kris to begin a mild, ecstatic climax.

  When he finally pulled out of her, she felt both the same sense of loss that always affected her, mixed with a hunger and desire for him to return to her again, to take her soon. Daniel, meanwhile, was pulling off his sodden shirt, the strong V of his torso falling in to a narrow waist and six pack. No fat on him, she thought somewhat ruefully. Without even being aware of what she did, she pulled her own arms across her belly as she continued to wash herself.

  When she finished cleaning herself she dried herself and went through to the bedroom, pulling on a bathrobe. He was relaxing on the bed, a robe only half covering his taut abdomen and muscled thighs, his cock half visible and even in that relaxed state a more potent member than Kris had ever encountered on most men. He had picked up his tablet and was idly flicking through the news and various reports as she sat down beside him, her own gown pulled around her more tightly.

  “When do you have to go to your first meeting?” she asked casually. She already knew the answer to that.

  “A couple of calls should sort the first ones out, so I don’t need to be there in person till tomorrow. I thought we could take longer over dinner and...” here he looked across at her and grinned. “You know, the other stuff.”

  “I like the other stuff,” she said, placing her head against his chest and hugging him as he continued casually to flick through news reports. For a moment she said nothing, simply enjoying the smell of his body, fresh soap on clean skin, the conditioner of the fabric, his own very faint musk beginning to return.

  But she still had to know.

  “Daniel,” she began slowly after a while.

  “Yes?” he said, a trifle negligently. Before her face a finger continued to trace and flick through stories.

  Kris paused. She swallowed. No, she had to ask. Asking would not hurt.

  “What’s Victor’s?”

  He said nothing, but before her face the tablet slowly descended to his lap. For a few seconds, she watched it as well as his hands resting upon it. Then she turned her head and looked up at him: he was staring at her intently.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Felix mentioned it, last night. I just wondered.”

  He sighed at this and his eyes moved away from hers. For a second she was surprised to see him chewing his lip slightly, a sign of anxiety that was unfamiliar. Part of her realised that this was more painful than she had expected, but she still had to go on.

  “It was the club, wasn’t it.” Not a question. A statement.

  He nodded his head, almost imperceptibly. “It’s in the past now.”

  Kris had turned her whole body around now so that her head could rest in his lap. She could feel the cool, solid edge of the tablet pressed against her skull but she ignored it, watching his face. She could see evident distress in his face, and she knew that his statement was an honest one, but he had misunderstood her. This was not motivated by any sense of accusing him. She simply wanted to know.

  “What did you do there?”

  The tic in his cheek flared briefly. “I think you know what I did,” he replied.

  “No, Daniel, I don’t, not really.”

  He sighed at this. “I can’t tell you,” he said at last. “I mean, part of me wants to tell you, but I... just can’t do it. You know that I behaved... differently before I met you. Can’t we leave it at that?”

  She gave a small nod, although it wasn’t quite enough. She could see, however, that it was hurting him even to think about this. Nonetheless, she could not resist one final test, one small push against his resolve.

  “You took her there, didn’t you.”

  His mouth went tight and for a second he refused to look at her. Then his eyes moved down, one pupil larger than the other, and he locked his gaze on hers. Without speaking he nodded his head. He knew what she wanted, but that was all he was willing to give at this moment.

  It was enough. For now. He hadn’t lied, and that was the most important thing for the moment. She reached up her hand and delicately traced his chin, her fingers reaching up along his cheek and feeling for the smooth lines of his scars. Then she lifted up her own face and kissed him once more, seeking forgiveness for having pushed against his resistance.

  Chapter Four

  Waking, Kris stretched her arm across the bed. Inside, her stomach churned with nausea and she groaned a little, pathetically seeking comfort. Instead, her hand reached along a gentle series of rivulets of crisp cotton, the cover thrown back in the memory of Daniel’s body that was no longer there. Light was filtering through the blinds, shadows cast along the bed from the bright sun outside.

  “Are you okay?”

  Turning, Kris saw Daniel emerging from the bathroom. She smiled and pushed at the duvet folded across her chest, sliding it down her body and exposing the curve of her breasts as she extended her arm towards him. He was drying himself
with a towel and for a moment her eyes drank him in before she replied, luxuriating in the expanse of his broad chest, his muscles as firm as ever, his stomach flat and trim, and beneath the fuzz of his pubis his cock hanging long and solid. As he rubbed his black hair, his bicep flexed a little and she felt another, more pleasant sensation below her stomach.

  “I’m fine,” she said, wriggling her fingers. “Come back to bed.”

  He came forward and bent over her, his warm face coming into contact with hers, lips touching and his tongue flicking between hers as he pushed himself down onto her. Greedily, her wayward fingers sought out his length and she gave it a tug. He, however, reached down: while not releasing her mouth his own hand slapped at hers, softly but persistently.

  “I can’t,” he said at last as he raised his face away from hers a few inches. His hand still held hers, affectionate but relentless, preventing her impish desires. “Today’s too busy. I really can’t be late for this one.”

  She sighed and, letting him clasp her in his loving bonds, stretched across with her free arm for the clock on the bedside table, raising her head to squint at it sleepily. “Eight thirty,” she pouted. “You should have woken me up earlier.”

  “But you looked so adorable sleeping. I thought I’d never forgive myself.” He paused, a small frown on his face. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

  “Yes!” she told him, slightly exasperated. “I’ve already told you.”

  “Okay, okay!” He let go of her hand and stood up, continuing to dry himself. “It’s just that I heard you groan.”

  Her own head fell back onto the pillow. “Oh, that. Just a bit of stomach ache.” She pushed the cover further down her bed, the smooth flow of her belly visible so that she could rub it. “I think I must have eaten something funny last night.”

  “And after I took you to one of the finest restaurants in New York! Well, that’s gratitude for you.”