The Duke's Affair

XXII

Henry finished his champagne and edged his way through the jovial crowd of his staff, back to his office. He closed the door and walked to the window, sliding his hands into his pockets. The air was warm and stale because the heating had been on for so long without any fresh air entering the room. It felt oppressive, and he wanted nothing more than to leave; leave the office, leave London. If it weren't for Lauren, and the situation with Annabel, he would have told Andrew to take him straight back to Marbedon after the lunch.

He had no desire to eat and 'be merry', when he felt no merriment whatsoever. He felt as though there were a gaping wound in his chest, that wept and oozed onto his fine shirts.

He felt the touch of someone's arms, wrapping about his waist before he heard or saw the person they belonged to. He jumped with the shock of being touched when he had thought himself alone, but as the clasp got tighter, and the fingers crept around him, lower and lower, he realised who it was. Annabel cupped him with one hand pressed to his crotch as she whispered in his ear: "one last time, and you'll get what you want. Better make it good, or I might change my mind."

The feel of her warm palm against him, the whisper of her breath on his neck, behind his ear, was confusing and for a split second he felt the faint threat of arousal, but he gripped her wrist and twisted free of her. When he turned to face her he still held her arm, his fingers pressing into her skin hoping to hurt her. She winced and he didn't release her until he could see the discomfort on her face.

But as soon as he did so, she moved towards him again, her hands fumbling at his trousers. "Let me give you a gift, Henry. You've pleasured me so well over the past two weeks" - he stepped back but she followed - "I just want to repay the favour." She looked up at him, her false eyelashes dark and strangely alluring.

"Not now. Later," he said, brushing past her to reach for his coat. "Everyone will be waiting on us."

"Make them wait," she said, her fingers deftly nudging two of the buttons on her shirt undone. Beneath it, Henry could see the delicate lace trim of her bra, decorating her pre-pubescent breasts. And again he felt a repulsion mixed with a baser urge, to take her, to punish her, to make her cry out; and to find some kind of satisfaction in it for himself.

"Don't do this-"

"Afraid you can't resist? And all those protestations of love" - she slipped a small hand inside her bra and licked her lips - "when all you want is a good hard fuck." She put one foot up on the chair, flicking her coat to one side to reveal her open thighs, in a gesture so vulgar and ridiculous that Henry wanted to laugh; would have laughed, had she been anyone else. It knocked him right back into reality and he made a show of looking at his watch.

"You know I'm not that quick," he said with a smile which he hoped showed a promise of more to come. "Stop fooling around. He wasted no time in turning from her and opening the door. Annabel lowered her leg from the chair just as the other employees turned to stare as the door swung wide.

"Alright?" asked Mrs Balfour, as she peered into the room, tucking the ends of her pashmina inside her coat. "We're all ready to go. Some of the others left already."

Henry nodded, glad to have escaped, but still aware of a dull and desirous ache that begged for satiety. He clenched his teeth; Lauren. Only Lauren would satisfy him now.

*

Annabel, who had arranged the placements for the lunch, had insisted that Henry sit in the middle of the table with his back to the wall, meaning that he was utterly penned in on both sides. The only way out, without making everyone move, would have been to crawl under the table. And the CEO of Banville Developments was not going to be seen down on his hands and knees for anyone.