tagRomanceAcross the Pond Ch. 04

Across the Pond Ch. 04

bySwig©

Maxwell

I: Bloodstream.

M-M-Ma...Maxwell!

The sweet butchering of my name coupled with the vice of her cunt clamping down and around me was the calming force in my heart and the drug in my veins to keep me going. "Come on little one, let me hear you fucking sing."

And sing she did, the scream that ripped through her throat spurring me on. Some nights it's tender, easy lovemaking for hours while I indulge in the taste of her sweat, the flesh of her full lips and the lushness of her body. Other nights it's not as gentle but still passionate, denying her release as I saw fit until she pleaded, playing with her until she was a weeping heap of pleasure. Then, and only then, would I give her what she needed. What we both needed.

Tonight, I needed to use her. Control her.

Tonight, I had her legs in the air over my shoulders, bending her almost in half as I fucked her with everything I had.

Pulling from her heat suddenly caused her to wail and I laughed devilishly, flipping her over onto her stomach and yanking her up by the waist before shoving my painfully hard cock back inside her. I viewed the bruises around her hips, wrists, the sides of her arms and back of her legs with a perverse sense of pride. I held her there and allowed her to catch her breath, cementing every inch of me inside her. One could easily smell the heady scent of sex that filled the room as I gathered her mussed hair and wrapped the strands twice around my fist, pulling her upward until her hands gripped the headboard. Leaning over her back I rocked into her, needing to feel her skin on mine. "My cunt is perfect, isn't it, wife of mine? So wet and warm for me to use."

She whimpered incoherently when I pinched one of her nipples roughly between my fingers. I knew she was exhausted. The very moment I saw her in that short leather skirt that highlighted her curves and the swell of her ample arse I was on her, demanding nothing short of unwavering submission and she never disappointed. Her body was dripping with her sweat and my semen; I instantly hardened after releasing in her mouth, on her tits, her back and stomach. She was filthy with my fluid and I loved it. The best part was she loved it too. "Please, please..."

"Please what? Please stop?" The cool metal of my onyx wedding band slid across her fevered skin when my hand curved the length of her stomach, fingers seeking out that overly sensitive button between her thighs. "Please don't stop?" The desperate sounds she was making - a blissful mixture of pleasure and pain - made me feel powerful. I did this. I made her feel like this. "Or do I decide for you? Tell me to whom you obey, Sydney."

"You." Her breath stuttered as she turned her head to try and look at me. Hazel eyes marked over with desire and cheeks flushed with red tones underneath her brown skin. She gave the only answer I would accept. "I submit to you, Maxwell. Only you."

"Sweet little one," I praised, kissing her shoulder and feeling her body relax under my touch. Though being a demanding husband and a dominating lover I needed her to always know how much I loved her. When I was finished I'd reassure her of my commitment as I tended to her aches, tell her how well she did and how proud of her I was. I'd hold her and whisper how lucky I was to be wed to her, as I did every night and would for the rest of my life.

Later.

I straightened my posture, gripping her hip in one hand and her shoulder in the other, pumping her with two sharp thrusts so she realized how hard I still was and nowhere near finished. For now, I was going to fuck her so hard neither one of us would walk straight in the morning.

"Fuck!" I awoke with a startle, the ferocity of my dream still lingering behind my eyelids. I felt the sweat between my back and the cotton sheets, my chest so tight with lust I could barely breathe. I attempted to sit up and collect myself but the erection I had made it impossible: I was so hard the tip bobbled slightly above my stomach and pre-ejaculate was dripping down into my navel. My head slammed back down on my pillow. "Fuck."

For nine days it had been the same. Nine lonely nights falling asleep without her near, nine early mornings waking up with sticky skin and a heavy dose of shame. I scrubbed my hands up and down my face while chastising myself. I had no business fantasizing her that way - as my submissive, or as my wife.

The opening guitar riff to Submission by the Sex Pistols blared loudly where my mobile lay on the bed and as I picked up I reminded myself to change it immediately. "Good morning, Sydney."

"Hey Boss," she greeted me, the raspy timbre of her voice making the hair on my arms electrify. "Did I wake you? You sound grumpy."

"I was...well awake before you rang. Are you home from the beach?"

"Yeah, I just got back. Feels a little weird not having to work for the next week." She fell quiet for a brief spell. "I'm not really sure what to do with myself. I thought about staying with my parents but then they'd want to know why I wasn't working. I'm still adjusting to being home at night, I don't know."

My heart then felt heavy for a different reason. Though I felt justified in doling out her specific punishment for lying and covering for her drug-dependent friend it gave me no pleasure to hear her so downhearted. I ached to make her feel better. "Come to London."

"Max, it's fine. I didn't mean to sound like a clingy bitch, I'm just venting."

"You don't, and my offer is sincere." I held my breath for her to decline, yet when I was met with silence I continued. "I know I said a week, but I must be honest in saying I'm not sure when I'll be able to return. I want you here with me. I can have Toby purchase an open-ended ticket for you." More silence and I began to fear I was pushing her past her comfort level. "It's only a suggestion, all I ask is for you to consider it. Please?"

"...okay, I'll think about it." I finally released the breath I was holding. "I'm going to head to the gym for a couple hours. Call me later?"

"Of course. Be safe." We said our goodbyes and I tossed my phone to the side in irritation once I hung up. You probably panicked her, you twit. I was completely in over my head, warring between my understanding of her independence and my desperate need to tether her to me as much as humanly possible. I debated ringing her back when my bedroom door forced open so hard the wall behind it rattled. "Jesus Christ!"

"Close," McKenzie strolled in casually as if he hadn't almost given me a heart attack, "But I am much more handsome."

I glared daggers at him for his rude entrance into my home. Since our youth he and I had been taken for twins more times than we could count, though I never saw it. His ink-hued mane and broad-shouldered stature was the exact opposite of my light hair and swimmer's frame. I suppose it was the eyes, both sets a deep azure though there was usually mischief and lightheartedness behind his. It was a trait I envied, admired and truly, truly hated. "That's it. That's it! I want your key returned."

"Oh, stop it. You know you love my pop-ins." His lips curled when his eyes lowered to the bedclothes. "Apparently, you're quite happy to see me. I'm flattered but I should inform you I'm not bottoming. Will give you a real proper shagging, though."

"Get out!" I grabbed the pillow from behind my head and threw it at his back as he jauntily skipped out of the room. "Goddamnit, I hate you."

"Liar!" He shouted from the hallway. "Now stroke off and get up! We have your mediation to attend and Charles hates it when we're tardy."

In defiance I laid back down and stared at the ceiling. Kenzie was referring to yet another appointment between Simone and I, because despite a prenuptial agreement she was contesting me on everything. It had been nothing but six months of bickering and harsh words - mostly from her, a rare outburst myself - and this was not a day I wanted to deal with such things. The only thing that would have motivated me fully would be waking up next to the sweet girl I couldn't get out of my mind. The scent of McKenzie's specially brewed coffee, however, was a close second.

***

II: Dizzy.

"It is absolutely unreasonable for you to demand anything at this point, especially when Mr. Holland has been overly generous."

"Our client feels the emotional distress she obtained during the marriage entitles her time to work through the pain and suffering she endured. To expect her to purchase a home in France when Mr. Holland has a perfect adequate one in which he has not once stayed is what's unreasonable."

The panoramic view of cloud-like waves gently rising and falling in the serene ocean were a perfect match to the pale blue lacquered toes in the bottom of the shot. "So, this is the view from my friends' house right on the beach. It's a great place to escape to and ooooh look there's a crab!" The camera zooms into a pale crustacean moving quickly across the sand while her voice deepens in mockery. "I'm Mr. Crab, I'm an ornery asshole but I make a tasty dinner. Skitter scatter scoot...shit. I may be a little tipsy." Her heavenly chime of a giggle followed.

"All he does is work his life away! Perhaps if he had been home more to pay attention to me I wouldn't be so distraught and in need of relaxation and rejuvenation."

"This isn't an awards ceremony, Mrs. Delacourt, so please spare us the dramatics. If you'd like to retain the country club membership you have more than enough funds to meet the annual payments yourself."

The camera turns at a 180-degree loop until the loveliest face in existence comes into view. "I know you're totally jealous you're not here. It's hot and peaceful...maybe you'll come with me when you come back?" Her jovial smile falters a bit though she tries to keep it steady. Her eyes aren't visible behind her Chanel sunglasses, but they didn't need to be. The crack in her voice tells all that needs to be known.

"The mere fact we're even entertaining this ridiculousness...if we go to trial, Mrs. Delacourt, I guarantee you'll received nothing. Accept the ten million and be grateful you're even receiving that."

"Oh, believe me, Charles. I have enough against Maxwell to receive twice that, and I don't believe you want me to use it."

"Anyway, I miss you, you know?" She posed and lifted her shades to the top of her head, a shy air gracing her stunning face as she spoke a bit more privately. "I think I could talk to you until it's five in the morning then curl up to you and fall asleep. I think I might be ready for that when you are. Sleeping together. Being alone together. I want to know you, I want to know everything and more and one night with you wasn't enough. I don't think it will ever be enough. A sentimental sound before she glanced down and back up in a fraction of a second. "Anyway. Big kid feelings, Dimples, can't wait to see you."

She blew a kiss and the video ended. In my chair I swiveled back and forth a bit where I sat, at the head of the table for a bit of privacy to view it for the thousandth time since she shared it with me a few days prior. It was, of course, muted; but I had memorized every frame with every sound. I felt a sudden wave of determination and when I placed my phone into the inside pocket of my suit jacket I spoke for the first time in the hour we'd been there. "Thirty million."

Everyone stopped talking and there were suddenly ten eyes on me. One of Simone's attorney's, a bulky fellow with hair plugs and grotesque goatee, spoke first. "Can you repeat that, Mr. Holland? For the record."

"Thirty million. For some unobvious reason, Simone, you believe you're entitled to more than you deserve. So, take it." A genuine expression of surprise sprung upon her face and I continued. "The home in France, the vehicles and jewelry...it's yours. All together that is around, oh, twenty-seven million pounds? I'll round it off to an even thirty if you agree to the terms today, I'll write a cheque for my records. Can we be finished with this now?"

I swear I saw the dollar signs illuminate within Simone's eyes, yet Charlie was the first to speak and by the authoritative bite in his voice he was most displeased. "We need a moment with our client - "

"No need, Charles," I interrupted rather rudely, standing and buttoning my jacket as I addressed Simone directly. "Thirty million. That is my final offer and I implore you to take it. Allow me to remind you Simone: I have known you almost half my life. I know things about you that would incinerate any social standing you have. I could bury you in the blink of an eye. This game is over, alright? You do not want me to retaliate."

Her eyes widened in shock and a pinch of fear. Throughout our relationship I'd never so much as raised my voice to her let alone doled out any threats. Clearly, I was at my limit. "I will expect an answer within twenty-four hours, otherwise the offer will be void and we will reconvene in court. Mr. Sinclair. Mr. Montgomery." I nodded to my counsel and walked out of the conference room toward the lift. Grateful for the empty car that opened before me I stepped inside, pushed the button for the lobby and watched the doors close.

Not half a floor descended before my legs gave out and I slumped over, face in my hands as a violent sob shot through my body. Heavy, gasping breaths as the tears flowed freely from my eyes, my clipped fingernails shakily scraping down my forehead as if trying to tear off the mask I have worn every single day since childhood. I wasn't sure if I was weeping out of pain, longing or simple release but the surge of emotion was staggering.

I must return to work. I must tuck it all away. I was five floors from my destination if I timed the chiming correctly. I sniffled as hard as I could and shot up, pulling out a handkerchief and giving my face a thorough wiping down before replacing it. Though it was still raining outside I pulled my sunglasses on to hide my dampened eyes, adjusted my cuffs and by the time the doors opened, I was myself again.

***

III: Delicate.

Half-past nine and I was still at the office, busying myself with contracts that were weeks from negotiations all because I didn't want to go home. I'd likely stay the night, the penthouse flat I had built on the top floor of the building more of a home than my own. The townhouse is a large, beautiful space. Tastefully decorated in a very desirable neighborhood and I'd spent probably twelve nights there since I purchased it six months ago.

FaceTime alerted me to a call from Sydney and I debated taking it. I was in a horrible mood and wasn't much for talking, but I also never knew the next time I'd be available to speak with her. I answered and tried to keep my face neutral. "Good evening, Sydney."

"Hey Boss! You never called me back and I need your opinion." Her bubbly demeanor made the loneliness I felt magnify, what I wouldn't give to see it in person. She stepped away from her device and held up two evening dresses: one a long, silver strapless gown made from what appeared to be silk, the other a shorter gold-colored dress with a full skirt and sequined bodice. "Which of these do you like better? Not that it matters because they were on sale so I'm keeping both of them."

I leaned back in my chair and began clicking and unclicking the top of my pen with my thumb. "You'd be stunning in either. What's the occasion?"

She tossed the gold one aside and held the other in front of her, turning to the side so she could presumably look at herself in a mirror. "Going to a wedding in a couple hours. Sam said the silver would go better with his white jacket, but what does he know?"

The last click lingered as I forcefully held the button down. "I'm sorry. Sam, the man you live with?"

"Yeah, it's his cousin's wedding. They're a little bougie but the booze and DJ are supposed to be top notch," she explained nonchalantly, sweeping the back of her hair on top of her head while she posed.

I felt uneasily irritated at the thought of her going out with another man, specifically that man. "Allow me to understand. Your "friend", whom you've described as only returning to your flat to do the wash and regal you with tales of his promiscuous adventures, has invited you to attend a familial wedding with him."

She finally stopped primping and looked over at me with an odd face. "Uh, yeah? What's the problem?"

"The problem is you're attending an intimate event with a person who treats you as a motel attendant whenever he feels the need to grace you with his presence."

She stepped closer to the camera, her look slowly transforming from confusion to anger. "Well shit, Holland. Tell me how you really feel about it."

Tossing the pen down with a hard bounce I cleared my throat. "You're willing to drop everything to hang on the arm of someone who clearly doesn't care of your well-being, yet you won't travel to the person who actually desires to be in your company. Is there something going on between the two of you I need to know?"

"Are...are you serious right now? What is wrong with you today?"

"Nothing. Clearly my opinion doesn't matter to you in the least," I responded, childishly I admit.

Her eyes narrowed sharply and I knew I had taken it too far. "I'm not going to not hang out with one of my best friends just because you're in a bad mood. You don't know him to insult him and you damn sure don't get to tell me who I can or can't hang out with, especially when you're still married. So why don't you give me a call when you decide to stop being a mega jerkwad." With that, the screen went black.

I sat there, stunned by my indescribably rude behavior toward her. She was correct, I had no right to chastise her. Despite believing he was a poor excuse for a mate I shouldn't have taken it out on her. I rang her back on my desk phone even though I knew she wouldn't answer. She didn't. Her cheery answering message made me feel like further of an arse, and at the beep I didn't know how to phrase what I wanted to say.

I'm jealous. It's not fair he's there and I'm not. I need you. I love you.

After a few seconds I finally spoke. "Sydney, I..." Nothing I could say in the moment would make it better. I couldn't effectively make it up to her from five thousand miles away. "You should wear the gold dress. It will go lovely with your eyes." I hung up and resolved to deal with my guilt at another time, digging my heels in for the long night of work ahead of me.

IV: Straight, No Chaser.

"And if you'll initial here, and here, that will finalize the transfer of the properties to Ms. Delacourt." I scrawled my initials onto the triplicates and pushed them back to Simone's attorney, flexing my fingers before signing the next set of documents. It felt as if I'd been signing papers all morning, no different than what I do at the office I suppose, and the end result would be most pleasant. "And please, your signature here." Signing the last in the stack I stood as McKenzie did and he gave me a friendly thump on the back. "Congratulations, mate. You're divorced."

I exhaled lightly. It was done, and the relief I felt was significant. I shook hands with the opposing counsel before moving to the door. "Maxwell, darling. A moment please."

Simone's voice momentarily startled me. She had been uncharacteristically silent the entire morning, a far cry from the obscenities she tossed out every other meeting we've had since we began the process. Kenzie raised his eyebrow in query. "I'll meet you in the limo." He nodded as he exited along with the other two gentlemen, it was then I turned my attention to my newly ex-wife. "What is it, Simone?"

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