Broken Rules 10: Landon
She’s completely caught me off guard, “for how long?”
“A long time,” she’s avoiding the question.
“How long?” I’m struggling for control.
“It’s a long story,” she’s checking to see if we’re alone. I watch as her eyes search the restaurant. For the first time ever, I’m regretting choosing to come to my favourite restaurant. The restaurant owned by Thomas Thorpe’s son.
“Just tell me,” I pull out my phone to send a quick text to Lisa asking her to cancel my afternoon appointments, “when did it start?”
“You were four,” she sighed, “your father was working all the time and I...”
She stops as if she expects me to help her, but that’s not an option, I’m not making this easy on her. “I was lonely. When you were born I suffered from postnatal depression and your father barely noticed. He was so busy with the company.”
She takes a deep breath, taking a moment to search my face for something; perhaps compassion or empathy. When she doesn’t find what she is looking for she continues, “You had a nanny who looked after you. I wasn’t a very good mother to you. Thomas was regularly at the house, usually with your father in his study, drinking scotch and smoking cigars.”
“He noticed that I was unhappy,” my mother tells me, “and we talked. It became a regular thing. We would have coffee in the kitchen whilst your father was working.”
I nod because I realise I haven’t responded to anything she has said, “It started out quite innocently. It made me happy. Nothing happened for a long time.”
“What do you mean?” I ask. I’m not sure I really want to know what she’s alluding to.
“A year after you were born, your father went away on business and I didn’t want to be alone so I invited Thomas over for dinner. Just as friends. He missed his wife; you know she...”
“Yes mum,” I’m frustrated by how slow she is telling me this story, it’s convoluted and just not getting to the point, “I know she died giving birth to Jarrod.”
“I kissed him. I’d had quite a bit of wine. He didn’t kiss me back. He told me he wanted to but he couldn’t because of his friendship with your father.” There are tears in her eyes now and I wonder if I should pity her. My face is probably all hard lines as I take in what she is telling me.
“We stopped seeing each other. I didn’t want to but he didn’t really give me a choice. I tried to contact him, to tell him how I felt, but he wouldn’t respond. That’s when I started painting. It was my distraction.”
I want her to get to the point. This is tedious.
“We kept our distance for the best part of a year,” she told me, “but I loved him.”
“You loved him?” I can hear contempt in my voice. My mother was not a woman who regularly spoke of love. Most people thought her cold and now hearing her talk about love in this context was beyond painful.
“Yes, I loved him. I still love him. We started having coffee again; nothing more.”
“Get to the point mum,” I sigh. “What does this have to do with the company?”
“Sorry,” she frowns, “we stayed just friends for years. You were six years old when things changed between us. Your father and I, we lost a baby. I miscarried.”
“And?” I know I sound harsh, cold even but I can’t allow myself to feel compassion for her. There are rules and she broke them. No matter the reasons or excuses, that’s inexcusable.
She blanches but continues with her story, “Your father was in the city when it happened and I was at the house in Surrey. I called Thomas. It was Thomas I went to for comfort; not your father. We slept in each other’s arms that night; he held me as I cried myself to sleep.”
“I kissed him again the next day but this time he didn’t stop me and I didn’t stop myself,” anyone watching us wouldn’t be able to tell how distressed she is, but I know, I can see it. It cuts me to see her like this.
I want this conversation to end, “what are you trying to tell me? What does this have to do with why dad won’t give Ayden the company?” I stop for a breath, “he’s not Ayden’s father.”
“No he’s not,” she shakes her head.
“And dad knows?” I ask even though I don’t need to ask, I already know. It’s all fitting into place.
“You father found out that I was having an affair,” she frowns, “he found out two years ago. He demanded that I tell him everything. When he learnt how long it had been going on for, he demanded a DNA test. So he stole a hair from your brother and had the medical division of P and P compare it to his own.”
“It didn’t match,” I say. It’s not a question. I know the answer.
“He isn’t Ayden’s father,” she whispers it; as if she could continue the lie a little longer if she said it quietly.
“That’s why he won’t let Ayden have the company,” I say with a shake of my head.
“He loves your brother very much but it’s not enough,” she sighs again, “he loves his company more.”
“I don’t believe that,” I frown. “It just doesn’t make sense. Dad’s always been supportive of Ayden.”
“Yes but now your father is dying,” mother replies.
“He hasn’t actually told me what’s wrong with him.”
“He has an inoperable brain tumour,” she tells me as calmly as she can, “you father always promised to love your brother as his own but now...”
“Where is the brain tumour located? What parts of his brain is it affecting?” I sound detached but I can’t allow myself to show the turmoil that’s brewing underneath the surface.
“The frontal lobe,” she tells me, “and it’s not small...”
“And it’s symptomatic?”
“Yes – he’s more aggressive... it affects his memory...”
I don’t know how to respond, my hands run through my hair as I try to take it in, “so he’s doing this because of the tumour?”
“I think so but I can’t be sure,” she says quietly.
I’m silent. I fix my eyes on my mother’s face, trying to determine how I am going to react to this situation as if it were a game of chess. I try to find a strategy.
My mother continues, now that she’s opened up, there’s no stopping her, “I’m scared; I feel like he’s unpredictable. I’m scared he’ll tell Ayden.”
I almost laugh humourlessly at her words, as I wonder if she’s scared of the pain it would cause my brother or of the trouble it could cause between her and Ayden. I sense that her concern is most likely selfish and it’s disappointing. This is not the woman I thought my mother was.
“I need to think about how I’m going to respond to this,” I say with a controlled, firm voice.
“You don’t already know?” She’s surprised. She expected me to just rush in and fix everything. It’s incredibly naive of her; she should know me better than that.
“I have a lot to consider mother,” I pick my phone up off the table, sending a quick text to Henry before putting it in the inside pocket of my jacket, “this affects you, father, Ayden and myself, but it also affects my best friend,” my voice is quiet. I’m cross that I’m having this conversation in a restaurant that my best friend, my brother’s brother owns. I push the thought aside, “it also affects all of father’s employees, all of my employees. There is much to consider.”
I stand up and tuck my chair in. I place a couple of fifty pound notes on the table in payment for the bill. Normally I would say goodbye to Jarrod but I don’t think I can face him right now, not now that I’m in on the secret. “I’ll see you soon mother,” I say as I kiss her on the cheek, “can I walk you to your car?” I offer in an attempt to portray the perfect image of family to the other cliental of the restaurant.
“Yes please, Landon,” she replies as she gets to her feet and so I offer her my arm and lead her out of the restaurant.
I consider going back to the office but I can’t bring myself to do it. It’s unlike me not to want to work. I enjoy my work, but right now, that’s not what I want. What I want is to see Aurora. I want to fuck her. But right now that isn’t an option so instead I ask Henry to take me home. I sit in the car, tapping my fingers on the armrest next to me. If Henry notices that I am distracted, he doesn’t comment on it and I’m grateful. I look out the window as I mull over what I’m going to do. The weather is something dreadful. I feel like I’ve lost control of the world around me and it’s an irritating sentiment. My phone buzzes. I think about ignoring it, it’s probably just an email about work, but then I think that it might be from Aurora and I can’t resist checking it.
It’s not from Aurora. It’s from my brother Ayden. His timing is impeccable.
Alright bro, was wondering if you want to get some drinks tonight?
I’m grateful for the excuse Aurora has given me for missing an evening with my brother because right now I can’t face him, not knowing what I now know.
Sorry Ayden, I’ve got a date.
You don’t date!
I don’t quite know what to say; he’s right. He’s always been entertained by the rules I have set myself. Ayden is a bit of a ladies’ man. Although he always seems to go back to the same girl in the end. An old family friend.
Tonight I will.
Well... who’s the girl?
I consider telling him but I’m not ready to share Aurora with anyone.
Just a girl I met in a bar.
It’s not true; she’s not just a girl. She’s the only girl who’s ever had such a tantalising effect on me. She’s anything but just a girl I met in a bar.
I hope you have fun with your ‘bar girl’.
He’s amused and I can almost hear the sarcasm in the words that make up his text message.
Oh I will.
I reply as I consider what I am going to do with Aurora this evening. There’s one thing I’ve been dying to do to her since I first had her sat in the back of my car. I turn my attention to Henry. His attention is on the road. “Henry.”
“Yes sir?” he glances at me through the rear view mirror.
“Tonight we will be picking up Miss Stone at seven. I’d like to take the limo,” I tell him.
He nods his head, “I’ll arrange it.”
“Good,” I reply before looking back out the window. My mood has improved slightly at the thought of what I will do to the lovely innocent Miss Stone tonight in the back of my limo, but it’s not long lasting because my phone buzzes again. I glance at the screen.
I know you will make the right decision, Landon. Xx
It’s from my mother. My fingers hesitate over the touch screen of my iPhone. I really don’t know what she wants from me. That’s not completely true. I know exactly what she wants from me. She wants me to keep her secret. She wants me to save the company. She wants me to give in to my father. She’s asking me to give up some of my control; I’m not the sort of man to fold. I never forfeit. When I play; whether it’s a game of poker, in business, sex or just about anything really, I play to win. I play aggressive.
I’m sat in the back of the limo waiting for Aurora to join me. As she approaches the car, I look her over. I chuckle as I realise that if she could see me now, she’d be blushing. She’s wearing a blue dress. It’s quite short but god does she look bloody gorgeous in it. I watch as she exchanges what I presume to be pleasantries with Henry. Henry opens the door and she struggles to get into the car, her dress making it slightly challenging. I grin at her, “hello Miss Stone.”
“Hello Mr Peters,” she says in that gentle voice that is like a soothing balm to the tension I’m holding in my shoulders. I feel myself relax. She’s looking to the front of the car. Even though I struggle to read her, I know where her thoughts have gone. She’s thinking about the privacy screen. I had pressed the button to close it seconds before she got into the limo. Now she knows we’re alone. I can’t resist telling her what I want; “last time Henry drove us I wanted to fuck you but I couldn’t. Now I can.” I pronounce every word clearly. Now. I. Can. Distinctly. Making sure she realises that I’m not just telling her what I want or even that I can do it, but that I will fuck her in the back of this limo and I will do it now.
I pick her up and she giggles as I pull her into my lap. She’s playful, “I’ve been thinking about you all day,” I tell her as I pull the hem of her short, blue dress up until it’s around her waist. If she feels anxious, she’s not letting on.
“All day?” she asks. I move the material of her panties out of my way. I want to touch her. I’ve been waiting all fucking day for this.
“All day,” I kiss her. It’s not gentle but rough as I give in to the passion I feel building, “have you been thinking about me?” I ask her. I have to know if I am affecting her, the way she’s affecting me.
She’s quiet as she replies, “more than I care to admit.”
It’s the perfect answer, “good. I like you thinking about me. Tell me, what did you think about?” I wonder if she will have the courage to tell me.
She’s blushing again and it has me wondering just what she has been thinking about. I’m delighted. “I thought about fucking you on my desk,” I tell her, “did you think about me fucking you?” I ask.
“Yes,” her answer is clear. I’m fingering her, slowly. Watching the pleasure on her face, I feel myself grow hard beneath her perfect arse.
I consider giving in and fucking her now, but I have to have control. I’ve felt out of control all day and right now I know she will give me what I need.
“Tell me what you want,” it’s a demand and I wonder if she will submit to it.
“I want you to let me come,” her answer surprises me again but I think I have better control of my facial expressions tonight.
“How do you want me to make you come?” I ask.
She bites her lip as she considers my question and perhaps more importantly her answer, “with your mouth,” she answers eventually.
I remove my tie with a chuckle, “do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she replies immediately and I see honesty in her eyes much to my surprise.
“Good. Give me your hands.” She obeys immediately and it pleases me. I don’t insist upon obedience in my sexual relations, but tonight her obedience is what I’m craving. Control is what I need. My rules usually provide me with control, but she’s almost completely destroyed those, so I need her to give me control over her instead, “you’re so obedient,” I chuckle.
I tie her hands up with my tie before tying it to the head rest behind her. She looks like a goddess tied to the backseat of the limo.
I kneel down on the floor of the car, directly in front of her. I decide to give her what she wants. “Open your legs for me Aurora.”
She does as she’s told yet again and her obedience makes me harder still. I pull her forward so that her bum is almost off the seat. I remove her panties and pocket them; she’s not getting them back. I kiss her then; sucking on her clit, bringing her to the edge of bliss. She’s moaning and it’s the most alluring sound my ears have ever heard.
“That’s it baby,” I tell her as I take a breath, using my fingers to keep her on the edge, “what do you want me to do?”
“Fuck me,” she plies, “please fuck me Landon.”
I’m surprised that she is not worried that Henry might hear us. I’m surprised but I’m also completely delighted by her abandoned inhibitions. I’m not worried if Henry hears us. He’s been an employee for a while and I trust him completely. “Please Landon,” she cries out, “please fuck me.”
I flip her around. I’ve waited long enough. She’s now facing the headrest with her knees on the chair and I’m push myself into her, pounding into her with abandonment. I feel her moving with me. It’s not a lot as she can barely move, being tied to the chair but it’s enough to encourage me on. This is different from my previous sexual encounters. It’s more passionate. Perhaps she was right when she said it was intense. I almost chuckle at the thought. She’s moaning and writhing; losing her last grasp of control. I’m not far behind her in my own orgasm, taking her with me again. I pull off the condom and shove it into the bin beneath the bar. I untie her wrists, checking that she isn’t hurt. I cover her back up with her dress before pulling myself together and pulling up the zip of my trousers, I grin when she asks for her panties back.
“I don’t think so,” I reply, “I’m going to enjoy knowing that I can have you at any moment tonight.”
I’ve made her blush again and it’s a rush that I may never get used to. I’m still not sure what causes it. Do I embarrass her? Or is it perhaps that my words affect her? I have a feeling that it’s the latter, especially when she shuffles her bum slightly beneath her. She’s thinking about my words. Her awareness of her body is heightened by them.
I smirk with pride before offering her champagne.
“I think we should make a toast,” I say as I hand her a glass.
“To breaking the rules of course,” I’m laughing again and it’s a pleasant change to how I’ve felt all day, “because we wouldn’t have met each other if you hadn’t been so adamant that you were going to be... less than perfect for once.”
She’s smiling at me, “to breaking the rules.” We tap glasses.
“Tonight, after dinner, I’m going to help you break another rule,” I tell her.
“Are you going to tell me what rule?” she asks, intrigued.
“Definitely not,” I laugh, “but I promise, you will love it.” I’m grateful that she’s managed to distract me so perfectly from my day and we haven’t even had dinner yet. I consider talking to Aurora about everything that has happened. It scares me slightly how much I want to confide in her. I’ve told her more about myself than most of my closest friends know. When we arrive, I step out of the car before helping her out. The restaurant is a little Italian that I’ve grown to love. It’s a well kept secret. We’ll have privacy here.
I watch her reaction to it as we enter the little restaurant. I can see she loves it instantly. I grin. Inside I’m thrilled that she likes it. “They do some of the best pizza I’ve ever had here,” I tell her as I pull her into a private booth towards the back of the room. “In fact, I’d say I haven’t had better outside of Italy. Have you ever been to Italy?” Its benign conversation and completely outside of my repertoire with women.
“Yes; I’ve been to Rome and Venice,” she tells me. “I love Italy; especially the ice cream.”
“Gelato is definitely a fantastic Italian accomplishment,” she’s licking her lips and I wonder if she’s thinking about ice cream. But her eyes keep darting to my mouth – she’s not thinking about ice cream. She’s thinking about kissing me again. I want to kiss her so I decide to act upon it. My rules are all about self-control but I’m not so keen on self-deprivation. She is what I want and so I plan to indulge. I lean across the booth; kissing her in a way that isn’t really appropriate for a restaurant. I’m grateful for the privacy of our booth. I pull away and stand up. She looks momentarily alarmed, but smiles with unmistakable pleasure when I take a seat next to her on her side of the booth. “I was too far away;” I pout. I’m shocked at myself; I haven’t pouted since I was a child. She giggles and it’s musical.
My hand is on her thigh underneath the table, slowly inching up until it’s underneath her dress. She’s squirming. “What if that waitress comes back?” she whispers.
“Who cares?” I reply harsher than I mean to, “the table cloth is hiding what I’m doing to you so as long as we’re quiet...”
It’s odd for me to be doing this. I’m not much of an exhibitionist. I’m a very private person, but I can’t stop myself. “I thought you were going to wait until after dinner to help me break another rule,” she says huskily.
“I changed my mind,” I tell her gently as I kiss her neck.
The waitress returns with our food but I don’t take my hand away from her thigh. The waitress asks if we need anything, I barely shake my head. My attention is on Aurora. She’s talking; asking me about my day. I don’t want to brush off her questions so I consider briefly if I want to open up to her. After a mere couple of seconds, I realise that I want to tell her everything. I want to tell her about my conversation with my mother and more than that I want to tell her how I feel about it all. It’s something I’ve never done; I don’t talk about my emotions. I work through them alone. It’s completely against the rules to share with her in that way but then again I’ve been breaking rule after rule ever since the moment I met her barely forty eight hours ago and I can’t bring myself to regret it. I want to break every rule I’ve ever given myself, so long as I break them with her. For her, I think I’d do nearly anything and what I think should be terrifying is exhilarating. She messes with my control and I can’t bring myself to try and take it back.