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Just Because We Do What We Do	By : gallygaskins Category: G through L > Hustle Views: 1283 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hustle and I do not earn any money from this fanfiction

Chapter List
- 4
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- 6
Chapter 5

Imogen woke up to an almost Ash free room, after sitting up in bed she noticed that his shoes were still in the same place as he had left them before he’d stretched himself out on the chaise. She smiled; it had been good to know he was there; her saviour she hoped. She had an unexpected feeling of happiness, probably due to the fact that he hadn’t seemed at all angry when he’d told her to go back to sleep.

Knowing that he had to be somewhere in the suite she got up to investigate, covering her midnight blue silky pyjamas with a long, matching dressing gown. She quickly strode across to the bathroom and put her ear to the door, if he was in there he was extremely quiet. She knocked once before entering, there was evidence that he’d had a shower but it had been a while since. Walking back into the bedroom she picked up her watch and looked at the time, 10.17; she’d slept for almost twelve hours.

Moving across the room to the other door, she hesitated, not that she understood why; after all, it was her suite. Pulling the dressing gown around her form she tied the belt and held the two sides of the deep neckline together over the top of her breasts; he’d seen enough yesterday, she decided. Her hand on the handle she opened the door and strode into the sitting room. “You’re still here then?” She questioned as indifferently as she could manage.

“Looks like it,” he smirked, “besides I wanted to make sure that sleeping beauty ate something before we had another row. Room service is on its way with some breakfast for you.”

His thoughtfulness hadn’t been lost on her and she mentally scolded herself for her lack of feeling. She thawed a little, “are you having some?”

“Would be rude not to, besides Stacie’s footing the bill and she owes me big time.” She smiled; he reflected it, “that’s a good colour on you.”

“Thanks,” she said, pulling the gown around herself tighter, the subtle action causing a mix of emotions to cross Ash’s face.

“Imogen, I can’t apologise enough for what I made you do yesterday and I promise you I will never do that again.” He almost pleaded, “I’m only here to talk, nothing more. If you’d feel more comfortable wearing a polo neck, jacket and trousers then I suggest you get changed now.”

How stupid could she be? The last thing Ash would do was jump her because she was showing a little cleavage. And even if he wanted to, she reasoned, he’d never let on and actually act upon it. Not unless he knew he was going to get a return, anyway. She let go of the lapels and pulled the fabric around her so that it sat more comfortably over her body. “What in this heat?” She joked.

He watched her sit down opposite him, covertly studying the gentle sway of her breasts with her movements. Once they’d stopped bouncing he was able to take in the rest of her appreciatively, his eyes twinkling as he looked over the bed head hair, the one fabric encased thigh he could make out under the gown and the creamy white skin that was now visible above her cleavage. She looked beautiful and totally appealing. His cool blue eyes met her hazel orbs across the space. For what seemed like forever they held each other’s gaze wondering what the other was thinking. “I see you’ve started on a plan to get back at that husband of yours.” Ash mentioned, a bit flustered; anything to stop the thoughts that had been hurtling through his brain at that precise moment.

“Yes,” she stammered, “obviously I’ll have to let Mickey know about it. What do you think?”

He looked away, unable to keep up the bond any longer, “I don’t know, yet,” he shrugged, “maybe once we know a bit more about Liakos I can make a better judgement.” He saw her nod, but she didn’t say another word. He leant forward, his elbows resting on his thighs, his hands clamped together. “The new technology for that battery looks good though.”

“Yes, the scientists are actually thinking about sustainability these days, which can only be a good thing for the planet as a whole.” Did he have to keep looking away from her? “Ash?”

“Hmm?” His eyes finding hers once more.

“What are you doing here?”

“I ... er ... ?

“Yes?” Her eyes pleaded with him to tell her.

“Um ...” A loud knock resounded on the door, he got to his feet quickly, “I’ll get that.” He opened the door to room service. A young girl of about nineteen ushered herself in with a trolley packed full of goodies which she swiftly transferred to the table by the window. After setting up two places for them she left, Ash handing over a crisp twenty pound tip for her trouble.

“Did you order everything off the menu?” Imogen asked, watching an awkward Ash shrug, as she took a seat at the table and began piling things onto her plate.

“Hungry?” He asked.

“Famished. I’ve not eaten since yesterday morning,” she tucked into pancakes and maple syrup, just as good as the ones she’d sampled in America. “Couldn’t face anything.” She added impulsively. She looked up from her plate to witness a dejected Ash. “Oh, shit!” She exclaimed, her hand dropping her fork and reaching across the table to lay it over Ash’s, her face full of concern. “I’m sorry Ash, I didn’t mean ...”

“I know,” he took her hand gently into his kissing the back of it, “apology accepted,” although it looked like he was ready to commit hari-kari. She pulled her hand away and looked down at her plate, pushing it away. Suddenly she wasn’t so hungry anymore. “What’s up, Imogen. I got all your favourites.”

“Yes, I can see.”

“I thought you were hungry?”

“I was,” she said miserably, now deciding to look out of the window instead. He got up and moved his chair next to hers, then moved his place setting before finally moving the food closer to their new position. He poured out a coffee for each of them before sitting back down. She turned back wondering what he’d been up to, suddenly finding that one of his hands was now cupping her cheek and stroking it with his thumb. “Now what are you up to?”

“Trying to get your mood to change so I can at least say you’ve eaten something. Why the sudden change of heart?”

“My tactlessness. Yesterday I could quite happily have murdered you for what you did but that didn’t mean that a have a right today to throw it back in your face, especially when you’ve been so kind.”

“Yes you do, you have every right, I wasn’t exactly Mr Tactful myself. And before you start, I saw the bin full of tissues and heard the tune on your iPod when I came back last night, I’m not a complete bastard, Imi, I realise I left you in a bit of a state yesterday. It was my fault you hadn’t eaten in so long.”

“Which is why you’re trying to make it up to me?” She asked.

He nodded, “I’m making the effort to apologise in every way possible. Now, are you going to eat something or do I have to force feed you?” That conjured up an image she didn’t believe she should have had right then; it was enough to make her snigger, all the same. “What?” He beamed, hoping that she’d had a similar thought to his own at that moment.

“Nothing,” she said coyly, her eyes twinkling, she’d definitely been thinking the same as him. Taking up her fork again and eating some more of the pancakes she watched him pile his plate with dry toast and fruit. “What, no eggs and bacon?”

“Bad for the old ticker,” he answered her, applying a scraping of sunflower spread to the browned bread.

“Oh,” was all she could think to say. They sat in happy, silent companionship for five minutes before breaking out into general chit chat about world news and events whilst they continued to eat. He gently mocked her about her taste in music whilst she countered his remarks with ones about his age, knowing that she would be the only person able to get away with it.

After breakfast had been cleaned away, they settled back into their respective armchairs, both decidedly happier and relaxed in each other’s company. Imogen tried once more, “so, what are you doing here?”

“I want you to tell me everything.” Her shocked face said it all; she didn’t want to tell anyone. But he needed to hear what had happened to her. “Imogen, I’m not here to judge you.”

“Glad to hear it,” she said acridly, unexpectedly recoiling from the tone herself. She closed her eyes, “I’m sorry, Ash, I just ... I don’t know ... it’s just that I’ve only really spoken to Stacie about what happened but that wasn’t in depth, I just glossed over the surface.”

“I’m here to listen, Imi.” He smiled, attempting to win her over, “you used to be able to tell me everything.”

“Almost everything!”

“I’d lost your trust by then.” He reasoned.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“The beginnings always a good place.”

She sniggered, “yes, I suppose it is. I need a drink though first.” She got up and moved across to the fridge. She looked back at him, “I’ve got water, diet coke or orange juice.”

He grinned, unable to contain himself, “forgotten you were never a good drinker, I’ll have water.”

“I’m better than I was,” She handed him the bottle and a glass before taking her drink back to her seat, “considerably better whilst I was with George, it always seemed to help relieve the pain.”

Ash winced, “now I’ve been tactless, sorry.”

“One a piece, then.”

“Well, technically two, one to me, what with yesterday.”

“I’ve written yesterday off. As Albert quite rightly said, you’d have had your reasons for doing what you did but you wouldn’t have been proud of yourself.”

“I wasn’t, I felt low and merciless especially when I’d thought you’d lied to me and you hadn’t. You just had to prove me wrong, didn’t you?” He joked.

“It wasn’t my intention, Ash. You needed to see the truth with your own eyes, I understand that.”

“You looked like you hated me.” His statement dug into her heart.

“I did, at first. But with your hasty exit I realised that you hadn’t meant the whole encounter to play out as it had. You’d never meant to offend or deride me. I could never hate you.”

“Nor me. We’ve both been a bit rash. Perhaps this is where we turn over a new leaf and learn to trust one another again.”

“It would be advantageous, Ash, seeing as we are about to work together again. What, if anything, do you know about what happened to me?”

“Only what I’ve pieced together over the last few days. I know that Albert came to see you before you got married and he assumed you to be carrying my baby. I know that you ran away from your husband but I don’t know why? Although I can venture a guess that those marks on your back have something to do with that. And I know, from his birth certificate, that I’m Tom’s father. That’s about it really.”

“Ok, got a bit of catching up to do haven’t we?” She watched him nod. “I was about nine weeks pregnant when I left. I knew that if I waited much longer I would start showing and I’d find it harder to leave you, but I had to go. You hadn’t made it easy for me, insisting that you loved me but that you still had to have your life to live as you pleased. There was no room for me, let alone me and Tom. So I ran, to the only place I thought I could straighten myself out. My parents. I pleaded poverty, told them I’d had a one night stand and all the while as I was lying to them, I lied to myself too. I kept on telling myself that I didn’t love you hoping that I’d someday believe it and having to have Tom on my own would be easier. But it never was. I’d cry myself to sleep every night and my mum had to virtually force feed me every day so that I’d at least eat for Tom if not for me.

“I became reacquainted with some of my old friends and one night they took me out to cheer me up. I must have been about six and a half months, seven months pregnant maybe, I’m not sure, but I looked like a beached whale following six paces behind the group because I could hardly keep up. I was drinking orange juice too, so I wasn’t exactly enjoying myself. Anyway, we ended up in this club and I was left near the bar whilst they all went off and danced the night away. Eventually I’d had enough, my feet and ankles were killing me as I was still stood up, my head hurt and I was getting irritable but we were all supposed to be leaving together. I didn’t know what to do.

“I asked the barman if he could get a message to one of my friends but he wasn’t keen. I’d almost given up all hope of keeping my sanity when I was approached by this gentleman; he seemed like a gentleman at the time. He got me a seat, bought me a drink and started chatting to me. That was the first time I met George Liakos. Of course, at the time he was a very small fish in a very big pond and neither I, nor anyone I knew, had a clue who he was or what he did. But he was certainly a charmer. I often wonder if the reason he latched onto me was because he knew what I was worth.”

Worth? “If you don’t mind me asking, what were you worth?” He asked tentatively.

“A lot more than we ever got for the biggest con we pulled off. And by the time I left you and met George I had several million in the bank.”

Ash whistled. “You never told me.”

“You never asked. Besides would it have mattered?”

He shook his head, knowing the money was there would’ve made it easier but he still loved the thrill of the con. That’s why he kept on doing it, “how come you had so much?”

“Consultancy mainly. Still did a bit every now and then when I was working with you guys. And if you’re going to ask me why I started working with you in the first place then I’d have thought that was obvious.” He still looked perplexed, “after Albert had tried roping me in and Mickey then sent you to me, well, I ...”

Ash couldn’t help but ask, “you ... what?”

Her cheeks coloured, “when we met that first time and you were turning on the old charm,” she watched him smirk, “I wondered if that was the real you or whether it was just an act in order to get what Mickey wanted from me. After all, I already knew that Mickey was trying to con me, I just didn’t know why. Surely you must have realised that I was worth something if both Mickey and Albert considered me to be a mark worthy of their attention.”

“I considered it, but Mick was so set on getting you back for standing him up at the school disco.”

“What? I didn’t stand him up.”

Ash looked confused. “You didn’t?”

“No. I’d never have agreed in the first place if he’d even asked me, cocky git!”

Ash noticed Imogen seemed a little angry; he had to diffuse this before it took over. “Remind me to ask him about it.”

“Don’t worry, I will. Now, where was I?”

“Telling me about the night we first met.”

Her cheeks aflame, she bit her bottom lip, chewing on it as she contemplated what to say next. “So there I was sitting opposite you, listening to all of the rubbish that was coming out of your mouth, wondering what it would be like to reach across that table and kiss you.” She caught him studying her from beneath her hooded lids.

“Why didn’t you?” Where had that come from?

Her heart faltered, “it would’ve been a little uncouth in a restaurant that charged over two hundred pound per head.”

“Not that I actually paid for the meal. You could’ve been as uncouth as you liked, them throwing us out would’ve been just as satisfying.” He was certainly enjoying himself.

“I fancied you rotten.” She confessed, watching the shock hit Ash’s eyes.

“Yeah?” She nodded, his smile beaming again he carried on. “Me too, I couldn’t stop imagining you out of that skimpy black dress you barely had on.”

Now it was her turn to look shocked. “Wouldn’t get away with it now.”

“The kiss, oh, I don’t know?”

Reaching over to the chair next to her and retrieving the nearest cushion she threw it at him. “No, Ash, the dress.”

“Shame,” he muttered. “If only I’d known.”

“Hmm, so back to the story. George pursued me for ages, to be fair I was never really interested in him, and it wasn’t until he offered to help me bring up Tom that I agreed to marry him, the only thing I really wanted was a father for my child, if anything came of the relationship then it was a bonus. When Albert tried to persuade me not marry him the only reason I could come up with not doing it was because I knew dad hated him so much, I didn’t know why, but George was never welcome at home and in the end I moved in with him until Tom was born. The one and only night I shared his bed as an equal was the night he made me his wife. I never slept with him before and afterwards he always seemed to have the upper hand. And once he had his hands on my money he had no further use for me as a wife; I became a possession that he could do what he liked with.

“I learnt very quickly that there was no such thing as a joke or sarcasm unless it was directed at me. If I said anything out of turn or answered him back I’d receive a slap, a slap became a punch, a punch a kick, and I think you can get the picture. As my hatred for him increased so did the level of violence. And when Tom was old enough to get into trouble, I offered myself to receive the punishment. The scars on my back were several bouts of being whipped for Tom hiding George’s cigarettes or running off with his briefcase. The smallest of things and I would be kicked down. I was punched in the face for Tom asking for a little more dessert once; I had a knife to my throat because Tom had played with his golf clubs, another at my breast whenever he had the urge to satiate himself.

“From what Tom told me when I spoke to him yesterday he told you about when Uncle Talos was having a heart attack?”

Ash nodded, “why do you think I’ve not had a smoke since I’ve been here?”

She shook her head, laughing, “and the dry toast, fruit and water, too?” He nodded again. “Ok. Tom is a very conscientious boy.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“He told me you’d played football with him.”

“Not exactly, Sean played football with him. I could only keep up with them both for about two minutes.”

“When Talos started to have his attack, Tom went off to find help. He finally had to go and find George, who became upset that he and his men had been interrupted, no matter that his father’s brother was dying. An ambulance was called for Talos but he ended up dying on the way to hospital. But as usual, George needed to make someone culpable for everything that had happened because nothing was ever his fault. He wanted to punish Tom but obviously both he and I knew that that was never going to happen. He ...” She sipped at her water, “he ...”

Getting up from his seat, Ash took Imogen’s hands in his and pulled her up into his arms, cradling her against his body as they sat together on the sofa. Her silent tears soaked into the fabric of his shirt. His free hand found its way to her head, brushing the long tendrils of hair away from her face, soothing her in the best way that he knew how, patiently waiting for her to carry on speaking. “He stripped me of my blouse and bra, Tom was still in the room, being held there watching everything that was happening. A goon holding onto each side of me they made me kneel, George branded me with his cigar,” she sniffed, Ash held her closer, “that’s when it started to get really bad, raping me at every available opportunity, allowing his so called friends to do the same. I’d do anything I could to make sure I was never on my own. I’d ran away countless times too but he’d always found me and brought me back.”

The tears were flowing freely now, “I fell pregnant again, and for months he left me alone. Then, one day, he accused me of sleeping with one of his men, he punched me, I fell to the floor in agony my hands over my womb. He proceeded to kick me before picking me up and throwing me against the wall. I blacked out and by the time I came around again I was lying at the bottom of the stairs haemorrhaging from God only knew where with George screaming for me to move so that the mess could be cleaned up. He wasn’t particularly pleased when I ended up spending nearly two months in hospital on the Greek mainland, but the doctor wanted to make sure that I got as much chance of recovering properly as I could. However, the test ...” She pushed herself up to sit, her hands furiously wiping the tears away from her face. She looked so miserable that Ash’s heart almost broke for her. “The test results weren’t good. I’ll never be alright.”

Ash sat up next to her, his hands holding onto her shoulders so that she had no option but to look at him. “You’ll never be alright? What’s not alright?” He asked as sympathetically as he could, enticing her to make him understand.

“I’m broken, Ash,” she whispered, tears cascading down over her face, “no one’s going to want me because I’m not whole anymore. I can’t have any more children.”

Ash pulled her into his arms once again, grabbing her legs and allowing them to lie over his lap. She tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let her. He stroked her hair, kissed her wet cheeks, whispered soothing words to her before allowing his mouth to gently kiss her neck. George Liakos, Ash decided, was the worst kind of bastard and he seriously needed to be taught a lesson. “You have Tom, Imogen, and he’s a great little lad. You’ve done well with him, you should be proud.”

“I am, Ash, but I always wanted more, a brother or sister for him. And who, apart from you, am I ever going to trust enough to let them get this close to me?”

“Do you need to?” He asked, hoping that she understood his meaning.

“I deserve to be loved.”

“Yes, you do.” He said, continuing to caress her, whilst he considered what to say next to make his meaning more explicit. “Let me love you. I quite like the idea of having to be responsible for someone.”

He allowed her to pull away from him slightly, her eyes searching his face for any insincerity and finding none. “I’m not your responsibility, Ash.”

“Imogen,” she cheered at his gentle use of her name, “you became my responsibility the minute I got you pregnant, as Tom did the minute he was born.”

“We don’t need your money.”

“I’m not offering you money; I’m offering you my heart.”

“Why?"

“Because I love you, Imi. I always have. It nearly killed me when you ran away.”

“But I thought that’s what you wanted?”

“So did I at the time. But not anymore. Even my ex-wife told me I was far too in love with you to love anyone else. She was right, always bloody was.”

Imogen leant forward, her forehead touching his cheek whilst her arms snaked around the back of his neck. “What do you think she’d say to me?” She all but whispered.

“I’d like to think she’d say the same thing,” his voice was hoarse as raw base emotion surfaced.
Her pulse quickened and she could hear her heart thundering away inside her ribcage; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt wanted like this. Certainly not in the last ten years when all of the emotions that she’d ever felt gravitated towards debauchery and disgust. She edged closer, her mouth barely upon his before he reacted to her touch. Once the fuse had ignited, a genuine passion exploded deep within them both, each taking their turn to encourage the other further on into the game. She pulled back, both moaning at the loss of contact, both panting from the exertion of their kiss. She watched his eyes searching her face for an explanation. “Why did you stop?” His voice agitated, his expression frustrated.

She looked away, attempting to calm herself before she spoke. “I’m giving you the opportunity to walk away.”

His brow furrowed, “I don’t want one.” Ultramarine, passion filled eyes penetrated into her soul, “I just want you, to love you and keep you safe.”

She closed her eyes as he adorned her cheeks and neck with ardent kisses, before his mouth finally closed over hers again. Their kisses grew fervent, teeth nipped at lips before their tongues sought that of their partner. For over ten years they had been strangers but to the ordinary man on the street it would’ve been as if they had never parted. It was Ash who brought the proceedings to a sudden pause on the second occasion. “Imi, what do you want?” She studied his face, unsure of what he was asking, “I need you, like I’ve never needed anyone but if you want me to stop then I will, I just need to know now.”

Imogen smiled, “can’t you tell what I want, what I need? I’ve only ever wanted the love of a good man. Thankfully, today, he’s offered that to me.” She allowed her fingers to tenderly caress his cheek. “I love you, Ashley Morgan.”

A lone tear escaped from her eye, he leant towards her kissing it away with his mouth. “So why are you crying?” He asked soothingly but worried too.

“I just hope I’m not too broken for you.”

He sighed with relief. “Never. But promise me that you’ll tell me if I hurt you or you’re not convinced what we’re doing feels right.” She nodded, sealing her promise with a kiss.

Securing his arms around her body tightly, he stood up, walking them both into her bedroom before allowing her to slowly stand. As they continued to kiss, one of his hands found its way into her hair whilst the other smoothed over the spot at the base of her spine. Her arms had been wound around his neck but she allowed them to drop, her hands ghosting over his back before finding their way to the knot of her belt, undoing it and pushing the dressing gown from her body. He stepped back, catching the garment and throwing it over the chaise as he admired the woman before him. The plain pyjama bottoms did absolutely nothing for her figure, but he appreciated that she probably wore them out of comfort. The top, on the other hand, he was sure hadn’t been made for the same reason; its ruched half cups, deep cut v neckline and spaghetti straps didn’t quite support her now ample breasts as they swayed in the triangles that barely covered her. “Is everything ok?” She asked him, meekly.

He smiled encouragingly, “everything’s fine, Imi, you look stunning.”

“In these things? They were here when I arrived, they don’t quite fit properly.”

“You’re telling me,” he said out loud, his eyes twinkling. Noticing she didn’t look happy, he felt the need to quantify, “your breasts are bigger than I remember.”

“Don’t you like them?”

“Are you kidding? I’m going to love getting close to them.” He grinned.

Throwing her head back she laughed, making love with Ash had always been an enjoyable rollercoaster of animalistic passion, heady romance and pleasurable teasing, it appeared that today wasn’t going to be an exception, “Oh, God, I’ve missed this.” He made to move towards her but she stopped him. “Will you mend me, Ash?” she asked, pulling at the drawstring of her bottoms and allowing them to pool at her feet.

He stood transfixed to the spot, unable to tell if she wanted him to do anything or not. “I’ll do my best.”

Grabbing the hem of her top she pulled it up over her head, her breasts bobbing free and the dark downy hair over her sex now visible to him. His eyes leisurely scanned her naked form, taking in all of the scars and bruises that were visible on the front of her body. Holding out a hand in front of her, he took it and allowed her to press his to a small scar that was barely visible under her left breast. “He cut me there.” Ash allowed his finger to absently trace the scar from end to end.

He dropped to his knees, his mouth covering the scar, kissing and licking it so lightly that Imogen thought she’d died and gone to heaven. Pushing her back until her legs touched the bed, he persuaded her to sit before reaching up and plundering her mouth again with his own, allowing her to slowly unbutton his shirt and free his body of it. Her fingertips felt over his chest causing him to verbally suck in a gasp as her feather light touches sought out his sensitive nipples. Two could play at that game, his own digits finding their way up over her ribcage to cup her weighty breasts. They felt so soft and yielding beneath his calloused hands and her already hardening buds encouraged him to draw circles over and around them with his thumbs. She sighed into his mouth, their tongues dancing a secret tango that they had only ever shared with one another.

As they broke their kiss his hands moved down from her breasts, healing each of the tiny scars that he found with his eyes in the same manner as he had before, “how did you get this one?” He asked, touching over the line that he found underneath her abdomen.

“I had to have a caesarean.”

“With Tom?” Ash asked with concern.

She smiled, a hand to his cheek. “No, he was a natural birth. That was for the daughter George killed.” Her smile faded, “I may have hated him but I would have loved our child.”

“I know you would,” he kissed her, motioning for her to lie back as he repaired that line too. She sighed, the healing process working as her body responded to his ministrations. Tentatively, his hands smoothed over her thighs, his gentle strokes coaxing her to open herself up to him. He kissed the soft skin at the top of her legs before edging closer towards her pubis, her hands in his hair egging him on. He kissed her labia, his tongue gently seeking inside of them for her clit, a note of rapture escaping her mouth once he had found it. His fingers deftly opened her up to him as he continued to suckle on her nub, his tongue dipping inside her when he felt that she needed him to.

She pushed against him, her need evidently increasing with the continuously changing movements of his tongue. Progressing with her pleasurable torture, he gradually slid a finger into her core. She worked herself against him, her rhythm quickening and her panting increasing along with her imminent orgasm. Feeling the contractions around his finger, he delved further as tenderly as he could. His aim, for her to have the best orgasm she had ever had and he gave it his all in the last few seconds whilst her body had climbed as high as it could before releasing, his name resounding in his ears as she came.

He laid his semi-naked body over her, his hands reaching underneath her to pull her as close to him as he could, his mouth devouring hers in order to keep her going for as long as he could. Slowly she calmed, administering butterfly kisses to his face, and showering him with protestations of love. When she could finally put words together to make a coherent sentence he got up and removed the rest of his clothes, watching her as she covered her eyes with an arm, her sex with her hand and grinned like the Cheshire cat. “Was that good?” He asked, walking around to the other side of the bed and lying down on his side.

She moved up the bed towards him, mimicking his stance, “that was fantastic. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

She lay back against the pillows, eyeing him up enthusiastically, “I do hope that wasn’t your only pleasure. I’m hoping the old man has got a few more tricks up his sleeve.”

He edged closer, his fingers absently reaching out and stroking her décolletage. “I may be old, but I’m virile. Given the right circumstances.”

“And what are those?” She chuckled as his mouth found her left nipple, “oh dear God.”

His shining eyes found hers, “he’s not going to be much help to you.” He beamed.

“So what are the right circumstances?” She managed, as he began to lick, suck and nip at the ever hardening nipple in his mouth.

He looked up, “isn’t it obvious? You and me. We were both stupid before, you for running away and not trusting me, me for letting you go without a fight. I should’ve followed you, found you, made you mine. Not let you get half killed by a man that doesn’t deserve you. I love you, Imogen Baxter, always have, always will.”

“I’m Imogen Liakos.”

“Not to me, you’re not. And what’s more I can remember all the things that used to make my Imi Baxter purr,” reaching down and stroking between her legs, watching her eyes roll back with the ecstasy he was invoking.

“I suppose I’ll have some tricks to learn in order to keep my man satisfied,” she said, her remark tinged with sadness and jealousy.

“Ooh loads,” he teased, before kissing her mouth, “to be honest there hasn’t been that many women; and most of them were one night stands, two nights if I really liked her. But my sexual encounters were very few and far between. None of them could ever hold up a candle to you.”

“Thank you,” her face beaming, “I think I’m ready for round two, Mr Morgan.” She said coyly. He didn’t need telling twice, finding his way across the bed and ending up between her legs. Working his way slowly down her body he got her turn over, if she wanted to be restored to her former glory then he had to completely heal every last blemish that now marked her skin. When he saw her back again he winced, wondering how anyone could harm another human being to the point of such disfigurement. He started with the whip marks, before moving on to the last visible remnants of the bruises she had been given. Finally, he ended with the burn, kissing her back as tenderly as he was able.

It wasn’t until her beautiful hazel eyes held his gaze that he appreciated how contented she must have been with what he had done for her, Ash had actually believed her to be asleep. He remembered that she’d always loved a good massage and over the years, when he’d not been so tied up with work, he’d spent his time wisely learning new accomplishments. He skilfully allowed his hands to lovingly apply the lightest pressure to her spine before working the delicate area behind her ears, smoothing the skin at her wrists and caressing the crooks of her knees with both his fingers and his mouth. She squirmed under his touch, her legs instinctively opening for him to check that she was ready for him before allowing her to turn over. Taking up a comfortable position between her legs his hands cupped her breasts once more, his fingers dancing over the skin, his mouth spending equal amounts of time bringing each nipple to a hard peak.

She brought her legs up, indicating that she wanted him but he was conscious that he could really hurt her if he wasn’t careful. “Are you sure, Imogen? Are you ready for me?” She nodded her answer, reaching down between them, taking his smooth shaft into her hand and positioning him at her entrance. Her slick heat parted for him as he steadily pushed himself within her, she gasped, stopping him in his tracks. “You ok?”

She nodded again, smiling broadly. “Yes, I’m good. You?”

“Yes, great.” Encasing him within her legs, she pushed him further within her; a blissful sigh escaping her lips as her filled her to the hilt. He pulled out slowly, before allowing himself to fit back into her, watching her face for any signs of discomfort. None were forthcoming so he pulled out and drove home a little faster, a rhythm building between them as she met every thrust with her hips. As the friction increased and the excitement grew, their hearts raced and a cooling sweat glistened on their entwined bodies as the heat built up towards their mutual goal. Ash could feel that she was close, her slick walls beginning to clamp and convulse around him as she threw her head back into the pillows and began to scream his name out. Her orgasm had barely subsided by the time Ash was ready to join her, a guttural roaring of her name spilt from his lips as he pumped his seed hard within her, collapsing on top of her when he could do no more. She kissed his forehead, her arms and legs keeping him within her until finally his manhood faded and they were coupled no more.

Finally managing to move, he pulled them both onto their sides, his hand brushing the strands of her fringe from out of her eyes, “Did you enjoy that?”

“Yes, very much so, but then I always did with you. You?”

“Hmm, absolutely fantastic,” he grinned, “can’t wait to do it again, but we’ll have to wait a bit, what with my age.”

“I thought you said you were virile?”

“I thought you said you were broken?”

“Seems I may have been wrong; unless, of course, there was only ever one man that could mend me.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m the fixer!” He said matter-of-factly. “Imogen?”

“Yes Ash?” She asked sleepily.

“Promise me something?”

“Something else?”

“Yes. Promise me that you’ll never leave me again.”

She looked him dead in the eye, “I’ll never leave you again, promise.” And with that she drifted into a contented slumber, Ash following soon after.

.oOo.

The young waitress stood out in the back alley, behind the industrial bins, smoking cheap, foreign cigarettes and talking quickly on the phone; “it’s after four, now. They had food this morning but they are still there ... yes, still in her room. He was dressed this morning ... how am I supposed to find that out? Ok, we’ll speak soon.”

Closing her phone she leant back against the outside wall. George Liakos was a formidable man and one not to be crossed. She’d have to think of some way to get to the woman before she was due off shift, otherwise there would be hell to pay, and she imagined she knew who exactly would be fitting that particular bill.

She flicked the cigarette away from her before walking up the back steps that led into the kitchen area. A trolley piled high with a lavish mid afternoon tea was set to go up to one of the penthouse suites; maybe she could take a detour. Signalling that she would take the trolley up, she wheeled it towards the service lifts and after stepping in she hit the button for the seventh floor, trundling out again when the doors reopened.

She didn’t have far to go to get to her anticipated destination, stopping in front of room 712 and tapping lightly on the door; precisely as she had done so that morning when she had delivered breakfast.
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Just Because We Do What We Do