17 comments/ 120380 views/ 18 favorites Saving Grace Ch. 01 By: rachlou Thanks, Brett, for your editing! * * * The front door swung shut with finality and Grace sank to the floor, utterly exhausted. Her dark hair stuck to her pale face in damp tendrils and she mindlessly pushed them away, leaving a dirty smudge of grey across her cheek. It had been a long, hot day. Now it was almost over and she felt a sense of relief that she could finally move on with her life. The past had been boxed up and sent into long-term storage. At some point she needed to sort through everything, but not yet; it could wait a while longer. This house was part of the healing process; a fresh beginning in a new place untainted with painful memories. It had taken a while to find it, but now, sitting on the filthy parquet floor beneath the beautiful stained glass window, she knew it had been the right decision. The Grandfather clock chimed six o'clock and she jumped, startled by the familiar noise. It was the only piece she'd kept from the old house; the rest was in a warehouse somewhere. The clock was rather big for the hallway, but she loved it and so it had been given a reprieve. The slow monotonous ticking had become such an integral part of her life that it seemed unthinkable to pack it away. Peter had found it in a dingy shop, hidden down a backstreet in London. He had been immensely proud of his 'bargain', she recalled fondly. For years it had sat in splendour in their small semi, hopelessly out of place amongst the modern furniture and décor. Slowly and methodically, as time passed and his income increased, Peter had replaced their cheap furniture with small pieces bought from antique fairs and sales. Eventually they had been able to move into a larger, period house and all his 'bargains' were finally enthroned in their rightful place. She'd loved the house, but it became too big and expensive to justify living there alone. Besides, she had no desire to grow old and bitter, surrounded by sad memories like Miss Haversham. Peter wouldn't have wanted that. Many times they'd laughingly discussed what would happen should one of them pass away. He had always insisted that she find a younger man and do everything she could to shock their neighbours. That was immaterial now. Her new neighbours were thus far an unknown quantity, although she had seen a curtain or two twitching when the removal van drove up the street. No doubt they'd be around at some point, eager to introduce themselves and find out any gossip. It was that kind of neighbourhood. Grace wearily climbed to her feet. She wasn't feeling especially hungry, but preparing food was part of the routine she'd forced herself to stick to since Peter died. Without a discernable pattern to her day, it felt like nothing mattered and her world began to unravel. She had found that cooking simple dishes helped to distract her from the black despair that had threatened to overshadow everything. The act of peeling vegetables and whisking sauces was mundane enough to sooth her soul. Half the time she had ended up throwing the food in the bin, but at least it had helped to pass a few dismal hours. Time used to be a commodity that was in short supply. Leaving the house in a mad rush every day, battling the commute into work, endless hours spent rushing around between supermarket and home – time was something she had always wished there was more of. Now she had too much of it. She could have gone back to work, but she had chosen not to. Money was not an issue any more since Peter had left her more than adequately provided for. Her job had never exactly rocked her world and, when the chance arose, she had left without as much as a backward glance. It seemed an ideal opportunity to find another path to follow. But for the moment she was content just spending long days thinking, reading and remembering. The move had taken a lot of her time and energy in the last couple of months. Now she was finally here, in her new home, she was going to spend the summer taking stock of her life again. It was time to decide exactly what she wanted to do. She just had to figure out what that was. * * * Waking up in an unfamiliar room was disconcerting. The early morning sun had found a chink through the blinds, and small ribbons of light danced across the bed. Grace felt a sliver of excitement when she thought ahead to everything she needed to do. It was good to have some purpose to her day. With a burst of energy she jumped out of bed and went downstairs to make her first cup of coffee. By mid afternoon, she was tired and dusty. The last occupant of her house had been an elderly woman. It was obvious that in her last years, cleaning had not been high on her agenda. As a result the layers of grime and dust were ankle deep through every room. Grace had decided to make a start on the most important room – the kitchen. Whilst at some point she intended to remodel the cavernous space, for now the ancient cupboards and larder were remaining as they were. Cobwebs lurked in every crevice and, after a few hours, Grace was beginning to feel the pain of scrubbing every square inch. But it would be worth it in the end. Eventually she'd have a beautiful airy room that opened out onto the garden. That space was something she hardly dared look at for now. It stretched back towards the boundaries of the golf course, not overlooked at all - something for which she'd paid a premium, as houses like this were much in demand. Fortunately for her, the state of the property had put many people off, but her main advantage was the fact she'd been a cash buyer. The late Mrs Colman's son, Richard, seemed anxious to get his mitts on his dear mom's money as soon as possible. It made her shiver to recall the oily little man's gaze, watching her closely when he'd first shown her round the house. * * * "So, when do you think you'll be able to complete, Mrs. err...Piper?" He smiled at Grace, hopefully waiting for permission to use her first name. She ignored the hint; she had no intention of allowing him any incentive to step beyond the boundaries of their limited relationship. "Assuming we have no problems with the survey, as soon as possible, Mr Colman," she said coolly. "Oh, please call me Richard," he smiled again. "That sounds excellent. If you let me know the name of your solicitor, I'll set things in motion from my end." His gaze flickered down her body once more and Grace struggled to control her urge to run away. "Perhaps you'd like to take another look around?" he offered hopefully, edging closer. "I don't believe we saw the attic, did we?" "Attic?" said Grace in surprise. It must have escaped her notice when she'd read the details from the agent. A large space in the roof had plenty of potential and this sent a small jolt of excitement through her veins. "Oh yes, the house has two large rooms in the roof space," explained Richard helpfully as they walked down the long passageway towards the back stairs. "Mother used them for storage and to be honest, I have no idea what's up there anymore." She followed him up the narrow staircase, past the first floor landing and up a second staircase. The door at the top was locked and Richard frowned crossly. "Damn," he said. "The key must be in the kitchen. I'll have to go and fetch it." Grace nodded agreeably and thought privately that the exercise would probably do him good. He turned and edged past her, needlessly brushing against her body even though there was plenty of room and she felt a surge of revulsion when his hands briefly touched her waist. The man was like a snake, she thought with distaste, and she shivered despite the warmth of the afternoon. Before too long Richard was back, panting from the exertion of climbing two flights of stairs once again. Large damp patches flowered under the arms of his cheap cotton shirt and he looked uncomfortably warm. Grace tried not to show her disgust. She had no desire to offend him and jeopardise the sale. The door opened with a creak and Grace was delighted to see a cavernous and light space under the eaves of the old house. At some point it must have been servants' quarters as there was an old iron bedstead in the corner, along with numerous boxes and cartons full of unidentifiable things. "I must go through this stuff," frowned Richard, wiping his sweaty brow again. Grace could clearly see the cogs turning in his brain as he surveyed all the potentially valuable antiques and collectables. No doubt he was counting the financial reward to himself. He made her feel quite sick and she turned away, wishing he would leave her alone to think in peace. He glanced at his watch. "Have you seen enough now?" he asked. "Yes, I think so," she replied. "I'll be in touch with the agent later." "Excellent!" beamed Richard. They walked back downstairs and Grace felt certain Richard was staring at her ass all the way down. "Thanks for your time," she said politely as she edged out of the door and into the warmth of the afternoon sun again. "Not at all, Mrs. Piper," he said. "Trust me, it was my pleasure." He smiled ingratiatingly and Grace sighed inwardly. God he was repugnant. She turned to head back towards her car. "Mrs. Piper?" he called after her. "Yes?" she replied impatiently. "Perhaps you'd like to have a drink with me one evening?" His florid face was beamed hopefully as he waited for her response. "I'm sorry, Mr. Colman," she said. "I'm far too busy at the moment, but I'll give it some thought. Maybe another time..." She smiled in what she hoped was an expression of sad regret. His face fell in sharp disappointment and for a moment she felt guilty. But, she reminded herself - did she really want to spend an evening fighting off his advances? The answer was, no, she didn't. "Okay, well if you change your mind, let me know," Richard said flatly, a mask of politeness slipping over his face instantly. "Well goodbye for now." He turned away and headed back inside the house without a backwards glance. Grace breathed a sigh of relief as she climbed back into her car. As far as she was concerned she'd handled his advances well enough. She saw him staring at her from the porch window and briefly waved at him as she drove away, but he didn't wave back. * * * Paintbrush in hand, Grace grumbled crossly when she heard the doorbell chime. She wanted to finish the wall before the light faded too much and the last thing she needed was some bloody irritating salesman trying to flog her cheap double glazing. Opening the door, she began to give the 'bugger off' spiel, but the woman standing there with a cake tin in her hand smiled cheerfully and stopped Grace in her tracks. "Hi!" her visitor said. "I thought I'd come and introduce myself – I'm Jennifer, your next door neighbour." "Oh hi, I'm Grace. Sorry, I wasn't expecting any visitors!" Grace apologised, feeling wrong footed as she stood in the doorway with her hair all over the place and yellow streaks of paint on her arms. "Would you like to come in for a moment?" she heard herself saying. She figured she might as well bite the bullet now as opposed to later. The painting would have to wait. "Ooh yes, that would be lovely," replied Jennifer. "I'd love to see what you've done with the old place." Grace headed for the kitchen while Jennifer kept up a steady stream of conversation. The other woman's heels clacked on the tiled floor and Grace was horribly aware that she looked like a total slob compared to her immaculately turned out neighbour. One of these days she'd really have to buy some new clothes. She'd lost so much weight in the last year nothing fit her anymore. The faded blue tracksuit bottoms she currently wore hung off her slight frame - unlike the smart cotton dress Jennifer was wearing which barely held her ample curves in check. "Tea or coffee?" Grace asked politely when Jennifer parked herself at the table with the air of one who was here to stay for a while. "Coffee, please. It'll go with the cake I made – shall we have a slice?" It was clear that Jennifer liked her own cakes rather a lot. She stood and began to root in the cupboards looking for plates before Grace even had a chance to draw breath. Grace hid a smile as she made two coffees. She was forced to admit that the cake did look nice. Plus she'd missed lunch again, so now that the thought was in her mind, she realised she was pretty hungry. "Mm this is good!" she said between mouthfuls of rich coffee and walnut cake. Jennifer smiled bashfully. "Thanks – my cakes always go down rather well at the Women's Institute, even if I do say so myself," she admitted proudly. "So, how have you settled in?" she continued, her gaze flickering with interest over the untidy room still strewn with cartons. "Good, thanks," said Grace. She sensed that Jennifer was fishing for information, but she had no intention of divulging anything just yet. For all she knew Jennifer was gossip central round this neck of the woods and the last thing she wanted was her business being discussed by the whole street. She didn't need pitying stares when she went out. She'd had enough of those to last a lifetime. "So...are you on your own here?" Subtle, Jennifer was not, thought Grace with irritation. "Yes," she responded airily. "How about you?" "Oh no, my husband, Malcolm, is a doctor you know." Jennifer looked expectantly at Grace, waiting for her to go gaga at the news she had a doctor for a neighbour. "Oh, that's nice," said Grace, examining the table with interest. Frankly, Jennifer could have been married to bloody David Beckham and she wouldn't have been impressed. The knowledge that her wall had been left only half painted was starting to grate on her nerves. Just like Jennifer. "He's a consultant, you know." She tried again to garner a more enthusiastic response, but Grace stood up with her empty mug. "Anyway," Jennifer said hurriedly when it became apparent that her new neighbour wasn't swooning in admiration, "the reason I popped over – other than to introduce myself of course!" She laughed self deprecatingly. "We're having a little soiree on Friday night and I wondered if you'd like to come. You'd be able to meet a few of the other neighbours and, well, it would be nice..." Grace panicked immediately. The last thing she needed was to be thrown into some kind of social snake pit. The trouble was, now that Jennifer had put her on the spot, her mind had gone utterly blank and she couldn't think of a damned excuse to save her life. "Err...I..." she stuttered helplessly, feeling like a rabbit caught in the headlights. "Excellent – that's settled then," interrupted Jennifer. "We'll see you at eight o'clock ish - number forty-two." She stood up in a determined fashion and popped her cake back in the tin. "I'll leave you this," she added generously. "Just bring the empty tin over when you're ready." Oh great, thought Grace. Now she not only had a party to look forward to – she also had a trip to return the tin too. Maybe she should have moved to the Outer Hebrides instead? Jennifer breezed out on a cloud of expensive perfume and Grace felt the beginnings of a monstrous headache forming right behind her eyes as the fragile peace she'd attained in the last week swiftly disappeared. She found herself sat in the half painted yellow living room staring into space. Socialising with a bunch of snobs and gossipmongers had never been her idea of fun. At least before she'd always had Peter at her side as moral support. He had been her rock to cling on to when it all became too shallow and pretentious. The bitter tears came from nowhere. The knowledge that she still missed him with every fibre of her being, hit her like a sledgehammer, and she fell onto the settee, sobbing brokenly, uncaring of the paintbrush and tin that sat waiting. * * * Grace could hear faint music as she slowly walked down the gravelled driveway of number forty-two. Her stomach was coiled tighter than a spring and she had to force herself to relax a little. Her pale blue dress swirled around her calves and her long hair curled over her shoulders in shiny waves. For ages she had stood in the bedroom, agonising over what to wear. Upon close examination, she realised her wardrobe was woefully lacking in fashionable party attire. She actually had to struggle to recall the last time she'd attended any kind of social event. Of course there had been the funeral, but that still remained a hazy blur in her mind, one she didn't care to think about even now. Now, with several outfits strewn all over her bed, she stared at her reflection and wondered why the hell she had agreed to this. All she wanted to do at this moment was curl up in front of the television and forget about the rest of the world. Instead, she had to face the endless polite and curious questions about her life and why she was alone. It was always the same – strangers probing for information and then, when they realised she'd been widowed recently, they immediately backed off, embarrassed and fearful of saying the wrong thing. It was a phenomenon that had manifested itself among most of their friends immediately after Peter's death. One by one they'd stopped calling and coming round. They didn't know how to cope with her grief and thus decided it was easier to stay away. Not that Grace had minded all that much. She was a very insular person and in many ways she had welcomed the solitude. It gave her time to come to terms with her chaotic emotions, rather than having to portray a false façade of calm acceptance. When their house went up for sale, only one person had rung and asked her where she was moving. Grace had answered the polite enquiries, but not offered a forwarding address. She had no desire to stay in touch; she didn't need anyone. Now, as she stood on the threshold of Jennifer and Malcolm's house, she almost turned on her heels and headed back home. "Hello," said a cheerful voice. "Are you going in?" A grey haired man appeared behind her, holding a bottle of wine in one hand. "Err...yes, I think so," Grace said hesitantly. "You think so?" His eyes twinkled with amusement. "Oh dear, you must have heard the rumours about Jennifer's parties..." Alarm swept through her until she realised he was joking. She felt the tension ease a little and she smiled at him. "Hmm, I'll not be staying long then!" she said lightly. "Between you and me, nor will I be," the man said dryly. "I'm Scott, by the way. My wife and I live at number twenty-seven. Helen isn't back from Germany until tomorrow, so I'm all alone tonight." He pulled a comically sad expression and Grace fleetingly wondered what his wife did that took her abroad. "I'm guessing since I haven't seen you before, you're our new neighbour?" he asked. "Yes, I'm Grace Piper," she replied, holding out her hand politely. Scott shook it firmly and grinned. "Welcome to Orchard Mews, Grace!" he said cheerfully. "Now, shall we go forth and party?" She allowed him to take her arm companionably and he pushed open the heavy door. The deafening noise immediately washed over her as Scott propelled her firmly towards the first throng of strangers stood in the opulent hallway, talking and laughing. Rallying her courage, she pasted a smile on her face as curious faces turned in their direction. * * * Despite her misgivings, as she stood on the terrace outside, Grace realised to her surprise that she had rather enjoyed herself so far. Most of the people she'd been introduced to were pleasant and friendly. They didn't pry too much when she said she'd moved here alone and although she knew in all likelihood they were curious, at least they didn't show it. Scott had been wonderful. He'd taken it upon himself to make her feel right at home amongst the other guests who'd all known each other for years. It could have been horrifically awkward, but in the event it wasn't in the slightest. Saving Grace Ch. 01 Fortunately Jennifer, her ebullient hostess, was so busy 'mingling' she left Grace mercifully alone for the most part. Her husband, Malcolm, had briefly introduced himself and Grace had found him to be a slightly arrogant man. He'd reminded her all too much of Peter's consultant – the one who'd finally broken the awful news that Peter's illness was terminal. Grace quickly decided that reminders of those bleak hours were not something she needed and she made a point of avoiding Malcolm after that. She sipped her glass of South African Merlot and peered into the inky blackness of the garden. Unlike hers, this had been carefully landscaped to within an inch of its life. Clearly weeds didn't dare make an appearance for there were none in evidence. Pretty flowers and shrubs bloomed in the beds near the French windows and she could just about make out a large gazebo towards the boundary of the golf course. It was a warm evening. Subtle hints of honeysuckle teased her senses and she smiled faintly. One day her garden might actually look like this. One day... "Had enough of Mum's taste in music?" asked a deep voice and Grace jumped in surprise, a few drops of wine splashing from her glass on to the pale yellow stones. She turned round to see a tall young man standing behind her, casually dressed in jeans and a sports top. His sensual lips were curled in a wry smile as his gaze briefly swept down her body before returning to her face. "No, I was just enjoying the peace of the garden," she replied coolly. "Are you Jennifer's son? "For my sins, yes." He rolled his eyes skywards and Grace couldn't help but smile. She immediately deduced that Jennifer was probably not the most laid back kind of mother. "I've been out all evening, but my date didn't go so well." "Oh dear, that's a shame," Grace said with a twinge of sympathy. "Such is life – her loss anyway," he replied philosophically. "Are you the new neighbour?" He looked curiously at her as the faint music coming from the house ebbed and flowed. "Yes, I'm Grace. How did you know?" "Oh just a wild guess," he grinned. Grace stared at him sharply, feeling that something lay behind the innocent remark, but she decided to ignore it. "Nice garden," she commented politely. "Yep, mum's anally retentive about her flowers and shit." He rolled his eyes dramatically. Red wine went up her nose when she choked on the last mouthful and she turned away, trying to control the sudden coughing fit. "That's not very nice!" she managed eventually, unable to prevent a snort of laughter escaping. "Perhaps," the boy conceded. "But it's true!" They both sniggered furtively like naughty children. "Tom!" screeched a familiar voice from the kitchen door. "Where the hell are you? We need some more wine from the garage." "Speak of the devil and she shall appear..." Tom sighed and turned to leave. Grace didn't doubt for a minute that if he failed to materialise instantly, Jennifer would soon come looking for him. "Bye, Grace." He flashed a dazzling smile at her before jogging back towards the kitchen. She stood still, watching his tall body framed for a second in the dim light and felt a sudden rush of unfamiliar warmth inside before she dismissed the sensation crossly. "I'm too old for a toy-boy," she muttered to herself, recalling Peter's endless jokes on the subject. "I don't need anyone." * * * The days passed quickly as Grace threw herself into the house, body and soul. The more she tried to do, the less time she had to stop and dwell on the past. It wasn't ideal, but it worked for now. Summer had arrived early and every day dawned clear with traces of early morning mist curling round the scarlet azalea's that grew wild in unchecked masses of colour. By midday, the heat became oppressive in its ferocity, scorching the patchy lawn into a yellow, arid wasteland. Grace normally spent the hottest part of the day lying in the tall shade of the ancient oak tree growing in the corner of her property. She had begun to read again, a pleasure that had stayed with her from early childhood. Each hot day, she allowed herself an hour to wallow in the pages of an endless succession of library books, whilst nibbling a sandwich or fruit. Next door, a perpetually spurting sprinkler worked overtime on sustaining the green expanse of immaculate turf and flower beds. Since the party, Jennifer had only called round once. She'd appeared the following day to invite Grace along to the local women's group, but Grace had politely rebuffed her advances. She had no desire to be drawn into the competitive world of baking and flower arranging and Jennifer had seemed slightly disappointed that her new neighbour was unwilling to become a part of her clique. "Well if you change your mind," she had said hopefully. "We're always grateful for new members. Just let me know and I'll introduce you to all the ladies." "Thanks, Jennifer," Grace replied with a smile. "I'm just so busy at the moment – but maybe when things settle down, I'll consider joining." Maybe hell would freeze over first, she'd thought dryly as she watched Jennifer's ample backside swaying back down the overgrown path towards the street. Lying back in the ancient reclining chair, she idly wondered if maybe she should make more of an effort. She could almost hear Peter chuckling with amusement as he accused her of being a terrible snob. It brought a ghost of a smile to her face and she closed her eyes. She could still recall his beautiful face, grinning as he pulled her close for a kiss. It scared her that the image was slowly beginning to fade; gradually turning from a clear snap shot into sepia tinted blur. Many nights she had lain awake, worrying that one day she wouldn't be able to remember him as he had been before the sickness took hold. It was silly really. There were hundreds of photos in albums and on her computer hard drive; all she had to do was dig them out. In the early days she'd spent hours pouring over all the pictures, immersing herself in the memories of happy days and treasured moments. It was like exposing an open wound every time she recalled a moment where they'd been so happy. But time heals and now the pain was muted if not totally gone. The book Grace had been reading fell to the floor with a thud and she opened her eyes, startled by the noise. God, she'd almost fallen asleep then, she thought with annoyance. Snoozing the day away was not going to get her jobs done. Yawning, she climbed out of the chair and stood up to stretch. There were a hundred things she still needed to do and wearily she made her way back towards the house. "Hey there!" A voice caught her attention and she turned, shading her eyes against the harsh glare of the sun. Tom was grinning at her from over the hedge. She figured he had to be stood on stepladders as the hedge was at least seven feet tall. "Hallo," she said, still feeling the drowsy effects of her midday snooze. "I thought you were at university?" "I was, but term's finished and I'm home for a couple of weeks. As usual, mum has me doing half a zillion jobs in the garden." "It's rather hot to be gardening!" "I know..." he wiped the sweat off his brow and Grace suddenly realised he was naked from the waist up. For some reason she couldn't fathom, this was disturbing, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. Fortuitously she heard her telephone ringing from the house. "Well, be careful you don't burn," she said hurriedly before dashing inside to answer the call. It rang off before she reached it and, with a sigh, she looked back out of the kitchen window. Tom was clipping a few unruly bits of hedge that had dared to sprout. His muscles flexed as he worked, sweat oiling the tanned flesh. Dragging her eyes away, she filled a glass up with cold water from the sink and sipped it slowly. This was ridiculous, she thought in annoyance. He was just a kid and here was she, a widow, more than twenty years his senior, ogling him like a love struck teenager. Jennifer would be horrified if she had seen her. It made her laugh for a moment. When she looked back out the window, Tom had gone and she felt relieved. The last thing she needed right now was that kind of distraction. Despite all Peter's entreaties that she found another man, she wasn't ready for that. It was just too soon. * * * Lips caressed the soft skin of her neck, teasing her gently. She arched her back as desire flickered through her veins like wild fire. The aching between her thighs was insistent and when a hand slid down her body she moaned softly. A hard torso pressed against her, wrapping around her curves as the roaming hand found the swell of her breast. Her nipple felt like a hard pebble, tingling with tiny shockwaves as her lover slowly rubbed the peak, pushing her ever closer to the edge. When the hand slipped lower she moaned in frustration until she realised the final destination. Exploring fingers delved between her thighs, encountering dripping wetness. The faint scent of honeysuckle mixed with arousal tickled her nose and she stretched languidly, spreading her legs wider to invite further caresses. "Please..." Grace murmured with her eyes closed. Tension curled deep inside as her thighs began to tremble with arousal. Deft fingers pushed inside her briefly, gathering some of her wetness and using it to lubricate her clitoris. She could feel herself hovering on the edge as small sharp spasms of pleasure began to gather in her sex. Turning round, she opened her eyes and gazed upon her lover, her hands pressing against his naked chest as his cock throbbed between them. "No!" she cried in shock when she saw who it was. Grace's heart raced wildly as she wrenched herself from the intense dream. The sheets were tangled in knots around her limbs and her body was damp with sweat. A strong pulse throbbed between her legs and the ache of unfulfilled desire left a bitter taste in her mouth. She tried to push the images from her head as the dream slowly began to fade and she forced herself to relax in the ruins of her bed. Slowly, her breathing slowed and the sweat began to cool on her skin. It was very disturbing. She shouldn't be having such erotic dreams about Tom. Her cheeks flushed hotly and guilt gripped her in a vise when she thought about it. "This is ridiculous," she told herself angrily, but it was no good. It didn't stop her feeling like she'd been somehow unfaithful to Peter. Sleep seemed a distant memory as she tossed and turned restlessly. When the first pink slivers of light began to slip through the blinds, she decided wearily that she might as well get up and make a cup of tea. Her body still throbbed uncomfortably and she hoped that activity would finally chase the lingering traces of desire away. Guilt continued to cripple her with caustic misery as she headed downstairs in the gloomy dawn light. God what was happening to her? She stared unseeing into the garden as the kettle boiled merrily. When the tea had brewed, she poured a mug and went outside, taking a seat on the rickety wooden bench beside the shed. It was still chilly and her skin goose bumped beneath her thin cotton dressing gown, but she didn't care. Anything to distract her from the unsettling dream was good. As her tea stood cooling, she pondered things. It had certainly been a while since she'd had sex. Once Peter's illness kicked in, sex was forgotten in struggle to come to terms with his physical deterioration. She had to admit she'd missed the sex. It had been a vital part of their relationship, but over time she had become so used to denying her own needs that it ceased to matter. Until now... She wondered what Peter would have said if he'd known that she was fantasising about a boy like Tom. Then she began to laugh. For a second she could almost imagine him staring down at her from Heaven, cheering and encouraging her. That sobered her up a little. The thought that he could see her made her miss him all over again. Not that she had ever stopped missing him. She missed him every second of every day and she always would. All she had to do was learn to live with it. * * * For the next week Grace was utterly preoccupied with the house. The living room was finished and she was pleased with it. Pale lemons and creams complimented the tall Victorian windows and the polished wood floor. The antique Persian rug Peter had bought from a bazaar in North Africa looked perfect spread out in front of the cast iron fireplace. She was stood admiring her handiwork when the telephone rang shrilly. "Hello?" she said, wondering who it could be. "Mrs Piper, Richard Colman here." Her heart fell a mile and she shuffled uneasily on her feet. "Hi, Mr. Colman, what can I do for you?" "Oh I was just ringing to see how you had settled in." "I'm fine, thanks." "That's good." He coughed slightly before saying, "about that drink we discussed, perhaps you might have more time now?" Grace couldn't believe the nerve of the man! How dare he ring her up and harass her. "I'm sorry, Mr Colman, unfortunately I'm very busy right still." The doorbell rang loudly and Grace sighed with relief. "I have to go – there's somebody at the door, bye." Without further ado, she hung up. She was fully aware she had been extremely rude, but Richard clearly hadn't taken 'no' for an answer the first time around. Wishing she'd changed the telephone number when she moved in, she opened the door to see Tom standing there, a cheeky grin all over his handsome face. "Hey, Grace!" he said. "Mum sent me round to see if you wanted any plums. Our tree is fit to burst after all this sun." For a second Grace was catapulted back into her dream and she didn't know where to look. Tom's denim shorts left little to the imagination and she willed herself not to look downwards. It was truly a test of endurance. "Erm...that would be lovely!" she said brightly, praying her cheeks weren't as flushed as they felt. "Cool, I'll bring some over later." His interested gaze briefly flicked up and down her body, taking in her cotton shorts and tank top. Then he flashed another killer smile and sauntered back down the path towards his own house. Grace watched him leave, unable to tear her eyes away. All she could think about was the memory of hands caressing her skin and lips tasting hers. With a ragged breath, she slammed the door shut and rested her hot cheek on the hard wooden surface. Maybe menopause was kicking in early? Surely there had to be a medical reason for this obsession. It was definitely time for a cold shower. * * * When the doorbell rang again at seven o'clock, Grace jumped up from her chair, almost spilling her cup of tea in her haste to answer it. Despite misgivings, she'd been unable to quell the sense of excitement at the thought of seeing Tom again. It was wrong, but god, it made her feel alive again. The sight of Richard's pink and sweaty face left her speechless. "What are you doing here?" she asked in astonishment. "Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Piper," he apologised as his reptilian eyes blinked rapidly. "I think I may have forgotten to pick up a box from the attic." "But I don't remember seeing anything up there?" Grace racked her brain hurriedly. She had only been up there a couple of times since she'd taken possession of the house and she didn't recall there being much of anything left. "Well I'm maybe wrong, but there is a box of old photographs that I can't find. Would you mind if I just checked? They have great sentimental value." He looked at her hopefully. "Well I suppose you could nip up and check," she said hesitantly. She didn't think for a minute that Richard had a sentimental bone in his repulsive body, but it seemed churlish to refuse him access. Besides, it wouldn't take long for him to have a quick look. "Thanks!" He looked jubilant and Grace stepped aside with a sense of disquiet as he headed into her house. * * * It was unbearably hot in the attic. The air was dry and slightly musty as Richard made a huge show of looking for the alleged box of photographs. Eventually Grace was forced to say something. "I think you must have been mistaken," she commented as Richard poked into a box he'd already examined three times. "Possibly," he conceded before standing up, scratching his balding scalp idly. "Maybe the box went to my sister's house. I guess I'll have to ring her." "Well if you've finished, perhaps we can go downstairs now?" She rather wished she'd done that already – being in the same room as the man gave her the creeps. "Yes, okay," said Richard. He wiped his hands on his trousers before casting one lingering look around the room. Suddenly he walked over to one of the overhanging beams and appeared to examine it in great detail. "Is something wrong?" asked Grace curiously. "It looks like woodworm," said Richard, shaking his head gravely. "No, surely not!" Grace had had a survey done on the house and she felt certain that something that dire would have been highlighted in the report. "I'm no expert, but it looks suspicious to me." She walked over to see what he was looking at. "See those tiny holes in the wood?" "No, not really..." It just looked like old wood to her – full of knots and grainy lines. He stood close behind her and she could feel his hot breath on her neck. "You're not looking properly," he whispered in her ear. Alarm bells began to ring furiously. Richard's hands crept around her waist and she could feel the heat of his body burning a hole in her thin cotton dress. "You know you're a very attractive woman," he said almost hypnotically. "I bet you're lonely in this house, perhaps I could help with that?" Grace froze in shock. She couldn't quite believe she had gotten herself into such a dire predicament. Even if she screamed the place down, nobody would hear her - not up here in the confines of her attic. "Richard," she said levelly, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. "I really think we should go downstairs now – how about I make you a cup of tea?" His hands moved up higher and she could hear his breathing growing harsher in her ear. The smell of stale sweat caused her stomach to heave as panic rose sharply. "I even have some nice cake," she added in a rush. "Oh I don't want cake," he replied eventually as he reached the swell of her breasts. Grace tried to pull away, but he held her firmly. "Such a lovely figure." His lips brushed her neck and she cringed. "Don't do this!" "You can't deny the attraction – you know you want me." What planet was this man on? Hysterical laughter bubbled up inside her. The man was insane – she had never given him any hint that she was remotely interested. "Richard, this is wrong!" She began to struggle harder now and he grabbed her hair, making her cry out in pain. The sound of tearing shocked her and she realised her dress had ripped down across the shoulder. Her bra was partially exposed and she tried to pull the fabric up hastily. "Don't cover yourself up," he smiled as dust motes swirled around them. Grace was unable to move with his hand tightly wrapped around her hair. Her scalp stung in protest and she felt tears pricking her eyes. Her chest heaved as his eyes crawled over her body lasciviously. "You're a vile man!" she spat at him but he just laughed the insult off. "I know you don't mean that," he said patiently, as if he was talking to a particularly dim child. His free hand touched the curve of her breast and Grace tried to shrink back from the intimate contact, but it was no use. He trailed one podgy finger across the tip of her nipple and grinned in delight when it hardened slightly under his touch. Saving Grace Ch. 01 With a groan, Richard lunged forward in a clumsy attempt to kiss her. Grace managed to avert her face but still she felt his slavering mouth on her cheek. With great force, she brought her knee up sharply between his legs and he fell abruptly on to his knees with an agonised grunt. "You bitch!" he gasped as his complexion turned an alarming shade of green. "Grace? Are you there?" A disembodied voice floated up the stairs and Grace saw the fear flit across Richard's face. "HELP!" Grace ran for the stairs, holding her torn dress in one hand, desperate to escape her vile attacker before he recovered sufficiently to give chase. Her panicky flight down the stairs flung her straight into the arms of Tom. "Whatever's wrong?" he said, quickly taking in her dishevelled appearance. "He...he..." She struggled to formulate the words as the adrenaline took hold. "He...tried to—" "Who tried to do what?" asked Tom impatiently. "I think you'll find it's all a misunderstanding!" Richard hobbled down the stairs gingerly, still clearly in great discomfort. "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Grace finally found her voice again as anger flooded her body. Richard looked taken aback. The frightened, vulnerable woman from the attic had vanished. "Okay, I get the message," he said, watching Tom warily out of the corner of his eye. "Maybe I misread your signals..." Tom grabbed the man's arm as he shuffled past and threw him up against the wall with a sharp thud. "If I EVER see you in this street again, I'll kick the shit out of you – understand?" The man cowered away from the threat inherent in the words and with a growl of disgust, Tom twisted Richard's arm painfully behind his back and manhandled him towards the door. "Now fuck off before we call the police." Once Richard had gone, Grace began to shake uncontrollably. She felt physically sick as the full force of what might have happened began to sink in. Gently, Tom grasped her arm and led her into the kitchen. "You need a cup of something sweet for the shock," he said softly. "Sit down in that chair and let me make the tea." She nodded numbly and wrapped her arms round her body. It was warm in the kitchen but she felt chilled to the bone. Outside the sun dropped low in the sky, painting a rosy glow across the end of the garden. It was beautiful, but Grace didn't see it. Her world had been tainted by Richard's actions. "Here, drink this," ordered Tom, passing a steaming mug of tea in her direction. "Thanks," she muttered. For a while, neither of them said anything. Eventually Tom spoke. "I brought you a basket of plums." "Plums?" Grace looked at him blankly, her torn dress hanging off one shoulder. "Yes, plums!" Tom grinned engagingly, his dirty blond hair curling on the nape of his neck. Grace found herself drawn to the tanned skin there and she struggled to make her brain focus on his voice. Oh yes, plums. Jennifer had offered to let her have some from their garden and Tom had brought them round. That was why he had turned up. It was lucky he had really. What might have happened if he hadn't been there, in the hall, if Richard had followed? Suddenly she burst into tears. "Oh God, I'm so sorry!" she sobbed helplessly. Immediately Tom abandoned his mug and jumped up. "Don't be silly," he said, taking her firmly in his arms. "You've done nothing wrong. That prick is just lucky he managed to walk out of here with his balls intact!" Grace buried her face in Tom's neck and smothered a laugh. "It wouldn't have been much of a loss for him," she sniffed. "Hell yeah - talk about polluting the gene pool!" He smelt divine. The lingering traces of a spicy aftershave tickled her nostrils and she inhaled deeply. When she pulled back, she saw that he was contemplating her with those deep blue eyes. For a moment she almost drowned in their depths. The realisation that he was too young for her seemed remarkably unimportant all of a sudden. All that registered was the sensation of being held and protected by two strong arms. Richard was forgotten about in the heated rush of desire that swept through her body. Tom brushed away a lone tear with his thumb. "Forget about him," he advised softly. "He won't be back – he's too much of a coward." "I hope you're right," she said shakily. "You're way too good for the likes of him, anyway." Grace sniffed and stared at him in surprise. "What do you mean?" she said. "It'd be like Beauty and the Beast!" Tom grinned. "Now you're flattering me..." She lowered her eyes and tried not to feel elated at the compliment hidden in that statement. "No, I'm not. You ARE beautiful." Grace was embarrassed now. She knew she looked a mess; her dress was torn and her face was streaked with tears. He was just trying to make her feel better, wasn't he? "I better go and change," she muttered. "I guess you ought to be going home now. Your mum will be wondering what kept you so long." "No, I think you need the company. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a big boy and I do what I want. Mum will assume I've gone out somewhere." "I don't want to impose on you – you've done enough already!" He crossed his arms firmly. "You're not imposing – a peaceful evening away from my parents is like paradise found. If it wasn't for the fact I'm saving for my airfare to New Zealand, I'd never come back at all!" "New Zealand?" "Yup, I'm going there for the start of my gap year. I'm hoping to leave in October, money permitting. Now have you eaten this evening?" "No - why?" "Well, how about I order some take out while you go and change?" He glanced at her dress and she was reminded how indecent it must look. Immediately she jumped up. "If you're sure you don't need to be somewhere else?" The desire not to be alone far out weighed the doubts she had about spending the evening in his company. It seemed unlikely that Richard would return, but it didn't stop the fear lingering at the back of her mind. "I'm sure," he insisted with a slow smile. * * * The horror of Richard's attempted molestation seemed a million light years away as they sat together in her living room, enjoying pizza, wine and conversation. Grace almost wanted to pinch herself; it was like a surreal dream. Despite Tom's youth, he was a mature and intelligent young man. He had her in stitches with his bawdy tales of university life. "...by the time they found the key to the padlock, half the faculty had seen him butt naked!" He drained the rest of his wine and placed the glass on the table. "Sorry," he apologised. "Here I am, prattling away for England – you must be shattered." Right on cue, Grace yawned helplessly. "See! Now let me clear this mess up while you get to bed." Grace tried to protest. "Just leave it 'til morning..." she said weakly. He ignored her and picked up the empty boxes. As he headed for the kitchen, she lingered uncertainly in the living room, unsure of what to do next. She needed to go to bed, but the thought of being alone in the house again frightened her. As she wavered, Tom returned and saw the expression on her face. "You okay?" he asked gently. "Yeah, I'll be fine." Even she heard the quaver in her voice and she silently cursed her weakness. "I could stay you know," he said eventually. "On the sofa!" he added when he noted the look of alarm shoot across her face. "Won't your mum worry where you are?" "Haven't we had this discussion already?" He raised one eyebrow quizzically and Grace smiled despite her edgy nerves. "Yes, you told me you were a big boy now..." "So it's been said," he winked naughtily and Grace suddenly realised what he meant. Heat flooded her face and he burst out laughing. "You're so easy to embarrass," he grinned. "I'll crash on your settee for tonight, just to make sure you're okay. In return you can cook me breakfast in the morning. Deal?" Grace could think of no real reason to say no. The truth was she wanted him there. "Deal," she said. "I'll go and find a spare blanket." * * * It was pitch black. A scratching noise penetrated the darkness and Grace spun round, her heart thudding in her chest like a hammer. She could see nothing, but she felt something. A faint smell, something unsavoury, drifted through the dry, musty air and she felt her skin crawl with foreboding. "Who's there?" she demanded loudly. A small trickle of icy sweat trickled down between her breasts and goose-bumps prickled her skin. Faint laughter echoed though the room and fear seized her senses in a vise-like grip. Her chest felt tight and she tried to fight the paralysis that held her rooted to the spot. Still she couldn't see; the inky black seemed impenetrable. The scratching noise grew louder and a footstep rasped the wooden floor. The sound was so close, almost upon her. She screamed loudly when a hand grasped her shoulder, "NO!" "Wake up, Grace!" Her eyes opened with a start and she saw Tom leaning over her, his hair mussed with sleep. The bed covers were almost on the floor and her body was damp with sweat. She tried to drag herself out of the nightmare but the lingering sense of fear stayed with her, clinging on with tenacious chilly fingers. "It's just a dream," he said. "I'm here now. Everything is okay." "I...I was in a dark room...," she struggled to make some semblance of the strange dream. All she knew was that something or someone had been there, in the dark, stalking her. "I'm sorry," she apologised when she glanced sideways and saw what time it was. "I'm being stupid aren't I?" "It's okay. After everything that happened, it's hardly surprising you had a nightmare," Tom replied. "Besides, your settee is bloody uncomfortable so I was awake anyway," he added with a rueful shrug. Now Grace felt really bad. Not only had he felt obliged to babysit her, but she'd kept him awake half the night too. "I'll go and make us a cup of tea," Tom said. "It might help you get back to sleep." By the time he returned with two mugs of tea, she had changed into a clean tee-shirt and shorts, and straightened the bed out. When he sat down on the bed beside her, it didn't feel awkward at all. It felt comfortable, as if she'd known him for ages. She resolutely ignored the fact he was only wearing some loose cotton trousers and she wasn't wearing much either. It seemed easier not to think about such things. They talked and drank tea, and talked some more. Slowly the dream faded back into obscurity and Grace relaxed. She curled up on the bed like a cat, conscious that her eyes were closing of their own accord, but unable to prevent sleep catching up with her once more. When she awoke again, the sun was up and the room was flooded with light. She became aware that she was lying on her side and Tom's arm was lightly thrown across her hip. She tensed up, trying to work out if he was still asleep. He murmured something unintelligible and to her horror she felt his body pressing against her. The heat of his skin seared through the thin cotton she was barely wearing and despite her embarrassment, her heart began to race wildly. This was the first time she'd had any intimate contact since Peter and even though her mind was screaming 'No!' her body was reacting with enthusiasm. She reached down to push Tom's arm away, but he moved his hand up her side and sighed against her neck. His lips brushed the soft skin just below her ear and she willed herself to move, now, before this got out of hand. "Mmm, you smell like flowers," he said huskily. Grace jumped. She had assumed he was still asleep. "This is a bad idea," she said, but still she stayed put. "Probably," he agreed. "But we're both consenting adults and you have to admit it feels good." Yes, she thought helplessly, it did feel good. It felt bloody marvellous to have a man lying next to her, especially one as gorgeous and as sexy as Tom. Quite what he saw in her was a whole different ballgame. "I'm much too old for you," she argued. His fingers continued to drift along her hip bone and it was extremely distracting. "No, you're not. My mother is much older than you!" "She isn't!" Grace knew damn well Jennifer was only in her early forties. She rolled over to face him, determined to stop this madness before they both did something they regretted. "Tom we really ought to—" The words were lost when he kissed her firmly. For a moment her brain froze, then she yielded to the gentle pressure of his lips on her mouth and all further protests were silenced. She'd forgotten the simple pleasure of kissing - the delight of losing oneself in the taste of another mouth and the spark of desire ignited by a probing tongue. Her body took no notice of her screaming doubts; it edged closer, towards Tom. A firm hand reached up to cup her jaw, gently brushing the hair away from her face as they parted. Grace felt breathless. She could hardly imagine how she must look, lying there on the bed beside a young man half her age. "Stop thinking about it so much," Tom said with a half smile. His blue-eyed gaze watched her as the conflicts were mirrored all over her flushed face. With a gasp of frustration, she rolled away and jumped off the bed. Her hands were trembling and her skin burned feverishly. She felt afflicted by some terrible disease. Unfortunately the cure was behind her, his arm thrown casually across her pillows whilst he waited for her next move. Oh God, help me, she thought with utter desperation. "Tom," she began, refusing to turn round and look at him. "This is wrong in so many ways." "Why?" "Because, damn you, it is!" Grace heard a faint movement but before she could react, he was standing behind her, his hands resting lightly on her waist. "It's not wrong, Grace," he whispered softly in her ear. The hypnotic sound of his voice sent shivers down her spine and she shuddered involuntarily. "Just let it happen." Outside the sun was beginning to streak the sky pale pink; it was beautiful. She could feel him almost touching her, the faint image of their reflection staring back at her from the large window. Maybe he was right. What was so wrong about taking some pleasure for the first time in ages? God knew she'd been denying herself for so long now, it was well overdue. He was right of course – they were both consenting adults and she wouldn't be the first woman to bed a younger man. "Why do you want me?" she asked eventually. She was still struggling to understand what he saw in her. "Because you're beautiful and I want to erase that sad look you have in your eyes." "No, I'm not," She sucked in a sharp gasp of air when he slowly slid his hands up her rib cage and brushed the undersides of her breasts. "I beg to differ," he said. She closed her eyes and allowed the sensuality of his touch to ignite her senses. From somewhere deep inside, she thought she heard Peter's voice, telling her to enjoy this for what it was – a simple act of pleasure. He was right, she decided. It was obvious Tom wanted her despite the age difference. For once in her life she was going to live for the moment. Bugger the consequences. Covering his hands with her own smaller ones, she pushed them higher until they covered her breasts. It was an invitation without words and she suddenly hoped he hadn't changed his mind in the last few moments. The humiliation of rejection would kill her if he walked away now. He pulled her back against his hard body with a shaky breath and kissed her neck. "Are you sure?" he asked softly. "Yes." And she was. Tom's fingers brushed across the hard peaks of her nipples, eliciting a shuddering groan from Grace. Now she had closed the door on her doubts, her body felt like it was on fire, burning up from within, in a pyre of unfulfilled desire. An urgent pulse throbbed between her legs, demanding satisfaction from the torment. She could feel his hard erection pressing against her, the fabric of his trousers doing very little to disguise his obvious desire. It made her feel very powerful to know that she had this effect on him. With a small movement she ground her bottom into his hips and smiled triumphantly when he groaned harshly. It was her turn to groan when he took his revenge by pinching her sensitive nipples mercilessly. Then he dropped his hands and slid them slowly down her sides until he reached the edge of her tee shirt. Grace held her breath as he reached beneath the cotton and made contact with her feverish skin. His hands felt slightly calloused on her soft flesh, but this only served to inflame her desire further. Her breasts ached as he teasingly stroked her sides and stomach. "Turn round, Grace," he ordered. She hesitated, not sure if she could face him like this. It seemed easier to enjoy his caresses while she was not looking at him; it was more anonymous that way. Gently he grasped her waist and turned her around. She stared at the floor, her cheeks burning hot. Grasping the edge of her tee shirt, he lifted it up firmly and yanked it off over her head with no resistance. Slowly she lifted her gaze, following a pathway up his body until she reached his face. He was smiling at her, his blue eyes sparkling like sapphires. Still smiling, he bent his head down and touched his lips to hers. Caving in to the pressure of his tongue, she parted her lips expectantly and allowed him entry. Her nipples brushed his chest lightly as their tongues duelled with languorous abandon in the warm early morning light. Hesitantly Grace raised her hands and touched the smooth skin of his torso. He felt hard, the muscles rippling beneath the tanned flesh. There was a sense of restrained power in the way he held himself slightly apart from her; it was as if he was anxious not to frighten her away. But her fear had gone. Standing before him, she felt light and airy, eager to explore the sensations she had buried for so long. Revelling in the pleasure of his mouth, Grace slowly ran her fingers up his chest, pausing when she reached his tiny puckered nipples. She rubbed the hard little nubs and inwardly smiled when he groaned against her mouth. He pulled her suddenly against his body and immediately she felt his rock hard erection straining within his trousers. It was a not so subtle reminder of everything she was agreeing to. She dropped one hand and touched his length shyly, wondering how he would feel inside her, inside her mouth... The memory of her erotic dream suddenly fluttered into her mind and she blushed as she recalled the sensations invoked. She slipped her hand beneath the waistband of his trousers and he tensed up when she touched him for the first time. He was hot, so hot in her hand, and thick. Creamy fluid coated her fingers as she gently caressed his shaft. "Oh Grace," he murmured as their lips parted. "If you had any idea how many times I have imagined this moment." His confession made her blush once again. The thought he had pleasured himself while thinking of her was a powerful aphrodisiac and the urgent pulse between her legs quickened immeasurably. "What did you imagine me doing?" she heard herself say, the words barely a whisper in the thick tension hanging between them. He sighed when she brushed her thumb across the bulbous end of his cock. "This..." he said tightly. "And you were taking my dick in your mouth." "Like this?" she asked innocently, before dropping to her knees and enveloping the end of his cock in her mouth. He didn't reply. When she looked upwards, his eyes were closed and his face was a picture of agonised pleasure. She could feel the blood pulsing through his shaft as it throbbed in her hand. Salty drops coated her tongue in a burst of tangy flavour and she sucked gently. The feel of him in her mouth was wonderful. Saving Grace Ch. 01 "Grace!" His voice sounded rough with need. She reluctantly pulled her mouth away with a wet plopping sound. "Stand up," he said, his eyes almost black in the soft light. She gave him one last lick and stood meekly. "Didn't you like it?" she asked, suddenly worried that she was so out of practice she'd forgotten what to do. He laughed shakily. "Oh yeah, trust me, I liked it!" Relief flooded through her and she relaxed again. Tom quickly reached down and pushed his trousers off, stepping out of them and kicking the offending garment to one side. He stood proudly before her. And he had everything to be proud of, she thought with wonder. His body was tanned, toned and beautiful. Exactly how a fit young man should be. It made her feel sadly lacking. Why was he here when he could have his pick of nubile young women? Her abrupt loss of confidence must have registered on her face for he cupped her chin with both hands and said, "You are amazing." He kissed her lightly before stepping back and sliding his hands down her body until he reached her breasts. "You're just perfect," he added reverently as he cupped her flesh and ravaged her with his eyes. She could see he was genuine and a warm feeling spread though her veins. She knew her body wasn't perfect – it had many imperfections like most women. But what mattered was Tom liked her as she was. He wanted her the way she was, now, standing before him. "Kiss me?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly. It was too difficult to stand in the scrutiny of his gaze. Whilst she could accept that he wanted her, she still didn't feel confident enough to brazenly flaunt her body while he watched. Tom pulled her into the circle of his warm embrace and brushed his lips to hers. His cock pressed against the curve of her belly and she moaned into his mouth, suddenly aware of how much she wanted to feel him inside her. Instinctively her legs parted and she pushed closer. His hand swept down her back and reached inside her shorts, cupping the swell of her bottom tightly. With one swift movement, he spun them both around until Grace's thighs touched the edge of the bed. She was trapped and unable to escape, stuck between his body and the bed. He broke the kiss and grinned at her, reading her mind. "Got you now," he said with a laugh. "You're not going anywhere, lady!" She didn't want to. Her skin tingled where he touched her and the pulse between her thighs was screaming for satisfaction. The smile faded from Tom's face when he read the desire written all over her face. He pushed her back until she fell in a sprawl on the crumpled duvet. The scent of her own arousal flared in her nostrils when he yanked the shorts from her unresisting body. "God you're wet," he muttered, briefly stroking his fingers across her cleft. She moaned incoherently in response. Vaguely she wondered what she must look like, lying on her unmade bed, naked, but as soon as the thought entered her feverish brain, it was dismissed quickly. She knew from the reverent way Tom was watching her that she looked desirable to him at least. Nothing else mattered anymore. Not Peter, not the despicable Richard Colman, no-one. All she cared about was this man and this moment. When Tom dropped down and hesitantly licked across her sex, she almost flew off the bed with a strangled cry. The stimulation was incredible after the long dry spell she had endured. "Oh God!" she gasped, her hands clutching at the sheet desperately. Taking that as an encouraging sign, Tom pushed her thighs further apart and began to explore her wetness. It felt wonderful and she closed her eyes, losing herself in the blissful sensations. Her body began to tremble as he continued. The tension curled like a snake in her belly, spiralling ever closer to the edge. When her orgasm hit, she was caught by surprise. Everything was obliterated in the starburst of sensation and she was vaguely aware of her cry echoing around the room. For a moment she lost her grasp on reality and she felt herself floating free, awash in a sea of pleasure as her body rippled with spasms of bliss. When she finally came down from the high, her heart racing, Tom slid up her body and kissed her hotly. He lay half on her as her body continued to shiver with aftershocks. To her surprise she felt tears seeping from the corner of her eyes. "Hey, don't cry!" Tom said, brushing the moisture away with his thumb. She tried to smile as he kissed her tears away. "I'm sorry," she sniffed, feeling slightly silly. "It's just..." "Shh," he whispered softly. "I understand." Rolling to one side, he pulled her close and began to stroke her body once more. As he traced a trail up towards her breast, Grace felt the passion rise swiftly once again. She arched her back into his tender touch and when he found her nipple with his fingers she groaned. Her momentary tears were forgotten in the heat of their embrace and she pressed her body against his with an urgency borne of desire. The need to feel him taking possession of her body was acute and she reached between them to grasp his cock firmly. Tom pulled her astride his body in one swift movement. She felt his cock nudging the entrance to her pussy and she lifted up slightly, allowing him to slide inside her wetness. For a sublime second she froze, lost in the exquisite sensation of being penetrated for the first time in a long while. "God, you're tight," Tom hissed as she leaned forward. Opening her eyes, she saw him gazing at her, his face taut with repressed passion. His hands gripped her hips and he began to thrust gently, rocking her body with ease as she sat astride him. Her breasts swayed near his mouth and he briefly captured a rosy nipple between his lips, tugging gently. She should have felt embarrassment at the wanton way she was behaving, but Grace only felt delicious pleasure flooding her veins with joy. She rested her hands on Tom's chest and began to move her hips in a sensual motion that increased the sensations invoked by Tom's cock. Sweat glistened on her flushed skin and her hair cascaded down her back. She could hardly believe that she was here, in her room, fucking Tom with abandon. It felt so damned good! She leaned forward and kissed him, biting his lip as he increased the speed of his movements. Her orgasm was almost upon her, rippling at the edge of her awareness and she arched her back as he grabbed her breasts, kneading the tender flesh. "I can't last much longer," he gasped through gritted teeth. With a final deep thrust, he came inside her, flooding her with hot fluid as he groaned his satisfaction. It was enough to tip her over the fiery edge into oblivion. With a cry, she came again, her body seized with bolts of pleasure as her orgasm ripped her apart. Collapsing onto his sweaty chest, Grace tried to regain some semblance of sanity back. The guilt she felt was trying to discolour the pleasure of the moment, but she pushed it to the back of her mind and closed her eyes. Tom rolled over, taking Grace with him. His cock was still semi hard as it remained inside her gently throbbing body. They lay side by side, bathed in the soft light from the large window. His hand rested on her hip and he stared into her eyes searchingly. "No regrets?" he asked eventually. Grace opened her eyes, fighting the sleepiness that threatened to overwhelm her suddenly. She wasn't sure if she was physically or emotionally drained. Either way, her body just wanted to curl up in a ball and snooze for a while. She thought about Tom's question hard before answering honestly, "No." "Good," he grinned with boyish charm. "I was hoping you'd say that 'cause I have every intention of doing this again." She felt his cock twitch inside her as he moved to kiss her thoroughly. That was the advantage of a younger man, she thought dryly. Their powers of recovery were often phenomenal. Almost as soon as the thought entered her head, she realised he was fully erect again. Just to emphasise the point, he pushed her backwards and lay on top of her. "Tom," she protested weakly, "I really ought to get up now." "You're not going anywhere..." he growled as he bent his head and took one of her nipples between his lips. Grace gasped in response and all thoughts of leaving her bed were lost in a renewed surge of desire. Her legs hooked around his thighs and she raked her nails across his tanned back. The feel of his cock deep inside as his cum continued to trickle out onto the sheets, sent shockwaves coursing through her veins. Tom hovered above her, resting his weight on both arms as he slowly moved in and out of her willing body. The sensations invoked were deliciously sweet, but she wanted more. She wanted, needed him to fuck her harder, to pound her body with every ounce of his passion. She wanted him to take possession of her and erase all the hideous memories of the slimy Richard Colman. "Harder," she urged, digging her nails into Tom's shoulder. "Like this?" he asked roughly as he began to thrust deeper. "Yes..." Everything she had was focused on the feelings within her body. The rising tide of passion began to spiral outwards as the tension increased. She eagerly met his body at every thrust, the sounds of their bodies slapping together wetly echoing around the room. As she came, her eyes opened to see him staring at her, watching the emotions flickering across her flushed face as her body erupted in paroxysm of bliss. Their passion blasted away every conscious thought in her head and her mind went utterly blank for a few blinding seconds. She was dimly aware of Tom collapsing on top of her as his orgasm hit. He buried his face in her neck, breathing heavily. Eventually his weight was too much and she shoved him to one side. They lay locked together in a tangle of sweaty limbs as the sun rose higher in the morning sky, heralding another hot and humid day. * * * Part 2 has been submitted and should post within a day or two. Thanks for reading.