It has been ages since I posted a Garden of Earthly Delights instalment. Ages. In fact, the last episode went up back in April :-/ The story has been continuing, though. Oh, yes. In fact, I am now roughly 15,000 words away from completing Nick and Grace’s story, which, when all’s said and done, will clock in at around 60,000. (I’ve inadvertently written a full-length erotic romance novel – how on earth did that happen?! Can’t quite believe it given that short stories have always been my thing …)

So, slight deviation from the original plan: this will be the last Garden of Earthly Delights episode posted on Behind the Chintz Curtain. It’s really become far too big and unwieldy to be read in blog form now (your eyes will likely fall out if you try to consume it from end-to-end, given its size) and I’ve made the decision to remove all but the first chapter from my site and self-publish the full version – properly edited – upon completion.

A big thank you to everyone who has read along to-date and/or encouraged me to keep going; I promise I’ll let you know when I finally hit the finish line!

Jane
xxx

 

THE GARDEN OF EARTHLY DELIGHTS – PART NINETEEN

When Grace arrived at the office just before eight the following Monday, Jack was already hard at work drawing – and clearly had been for some time.

‘Morning,’ she called as she made her way across the room to her desk, trying to ignore the aching soreness between her legs.  She’d been at Nick’s almost the entire weekend, the sex they’d had on the Friday night kicking off an explosive two days that had seen him fuck both her body and her mind in practically every position and in every room of his house.

On her back on the floor of his study, her arms bound above her head, his fingers pulling at her nipples until the discomfort collided with the blissful feeling of his cock tunnelling in and out of her pussy.

On her hands and knees in the living room, Nick holding her in place by her hair and massaging her clit until she came.

Standing with her back to the wall in his shower, while he alternately licked her pussy and bit at the soft skin of her inner thighs.

She’d had absolutely no say in the when or how – he’d simply told her where he wanted her and ordered her into position. On Saturday morning, when she’d dared to make noises about going home to fetch her toothbrush, he’d confiscated her car keys, ordered her onto her knees and told her the only way out of his house was with her safeword.

She hadn’t wanted to use it. Couldn’t bring herself to. And, after a small internal debate, during which she’d attempted to rationalise her need to give in to Nick  (and failed), she’d settled on the floor at his feet.

He’d proceeded to reprimand her for her dithering with that fucking glass dildo, bringing her to frustratingly close to climax three times before finally sinking himself into her and stroking her slowly to orgasm with his cock and his fingers. When she’d next gone to the bathroom to tidy herself up, though, she’d found a clean brush and toothpaste waiting for her next to the sink.

Surprisingly, the weekend hadn’t been all about sex. In between bouts, they’d stopped to talk, cook, and eat. Taken turns choosing films to watch on Nick’s enormous flatscreen. He’d made her sit through Blade Runner; she’d retaliated by selecting Gone with the Wind. Both the sex and the company had been … comforting. Although how that was possible given the power exchange dynamic between them, Grace wasn’t entirely sure.

Nick had finally given her back her keys – and her clothes – on Sunday evening. But not before he’d leaned her over his dining table between their dirty supper dishes, slid a lubricated finger into her anus and told her that the next time he saw her he was going to plug it. Grace couldn’t stop herself from clenching her buttocks at the thought; although Nick had penetrated her bottom with his fingers more than once over the two days they’d spent together – and she’d enjoyed the edgy discomfort of it – the thought of having something bigger than a digit embedded in her rectum scared her.

‘Well, from the look on your face you definitely had a good weekend.’

‘What?’ Grace, completely lost in her thoughts, looked up to find Jack standing next to her, the corner of his mouth quirked in amusement.

‘Your weekend. I take it you had a good one?’

‘Oh.’ Grace felt herself blushing, hideously aware that her neck and face were probably turning a bright, embarrassing pink. ‘Yes, it was fine, thanks.’

‘Fine?’

‘Yes, fine.’ She leaned down, pretended to fumble in her bag for her mobile. Where had her vocabulary gone? And why was she feeling so embarrassed? There was no way Jack could have guessed what she’d been up to over the past two days. And then a mortifying thought struck her: had he spoken to Nick? She jerked her head up, all pretence of rummaging forgotten. ‘You haven’t, er …?’ Yet even as she started to form the question she realised what an absurd one it was; the Nick she was coming to know would never do that to her – would never talk about her like that with Jack, even if they were best friends.

‘Haven’t …?’

Grace shook her head. ‘Never mind.’

Jack laughed. ‘I’m not even going to ask, Gracie.’ He clapped a large hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘But can I just say you look about a hundred times happier than you did the other week.’

A hot little bloom exploded in her chest and she couldn’t stop the grin that spread over her face. ‘I feel a hundred times happier, too.’

‘Coffee?’

‘Yeah, a coffee would be great.’

…………….

‘Nick!’

Nick looked up from the plan he had spread out on the hood of his Defender to see Lexie, his site office manager, wearing a red hard hat and picking her way towards him across the building site. ‘There’s someone here to see you,’ she yelled, trying to make herself heard over the noise of a digger churning away in the background. ‘A Tristan Hursthouse?’ She drew to a stop just on the far side of a large footing hole and looked at him questioningly.

Nick felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. ‘Tell him I’ll be right there,’ he hollered as he let go of the plan edges, allowing the sheet to roll in on itself. ‘Just got to go and drop this groundworking revision off to Mike.’

Lexie waved in acknowledgement and began striding back in the direction she’d come, dust kicking up around her as she walked. It had been hellishly dry for the past week and the site was like a giant dirt bath.

Plan in hand, Nick made his way around to the open driver’s door of his car and hauled himself inside. Tristan’s visit was unexpected, to say the least. Given that their friendship was, for the most part, built around their respective interests in kink, social visits during working hours weren’t exactly the norm for them. Although, to be fair, they hadn’t exactly had much time to talk over the past few weeks; after the whole thing with Grace had kicked off, Tristan had jetted off to some legal conference in the States.

Fifteen minutes later, he pulled up in the site carpark to see his friend lounging against the side of an old Mercedes convertible. Wearing dark-framed reading glasses and dressed in a light charcoal suit, Tristan looked every inch the litigation lawyer he was.

He straightened as he saw Nick pull in and, as he started to climb out of the Defender, began walking towards him. ‘Nice ride,’ Nick said as he smiled and slammed the door. ‘New?’

Tristan looked back at his car. ‘Yeah, it’s an old 230. 1965. Just finished restoring it.’

Nick blinked in surprise. ‘You actually know your way around an engine?’

Tristan pressed a hand against his heart and grimaced. ‘I’m wounded, man. What, you think a sissy lawyer boy doesn’t know how to get his hands dirty?’

‘Just never picked you as a man who’d swing anything other than a flogger,’ Nick said as he came to a stop next him.

‘Arse.’ Tristan punched him lightly in the arm and then briefly grasped Nick’s hand in greeting. ‘How’re you, anyway?’

‘Good. Better than good, actually.’

Tristan regarded him thoughtfully. ‘So I take it Grace forgave you for our monumental balls-up, then?’

‘Fuck knows why but, yeah. Yeah, she did.’

‘Thank Christ for that.’ Tristan looked visibly relieved. ‘It’s been chewing at me ever since it happened.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets and toed the carpark scalpings with the tip of one well-shod foot. ‘I know you said Jack talked to her but …’

‘She’s fine, Tris. Better than fine, actually.’ Nick found it impossible to stop the smile spreading across his face. ‘We tried again. Caelan stepped in and we’re …’ He looked out over the construction site. Watched one of the construction workers direct a concrete truck over to a foundation trench as he searched for the right words. ‘… in really good place,’ he said eventually.

‘I’m glad, Nick. You’ve needed someone like Grace for a while now.’

Puzzled, Nick cocked his head. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Someone with the ability to give you back your confidence, you dumb bastard. Really give it back. Or did you actually think you were happy with me holding your hand and playing with all those club subs who you let top from the bottom?’

‘I don’t follow?’

Tristan looked at him shrewdly. ‘You haven’t been in the driver’s seat – really in the driver’s seat – since Tess got hurt. You’ve been dipping your toe in the water but you haven’t ever allowed yourself to plunge into it again.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘If it were any fucking truer it’d be gospel, Nick. Look, I know what it took for you to start playing again – and I know you’re terrified of hurting someone by accident. I get it. What happened between us and Grace that first night sure as hell didn’t do your confidence any favours, either.’ He shook his head in frustration. ‘I should never have let you talk me into helping you. You would have been far better off on your own and following your instincts.’

‘That was totally my fault and –’

Tristan held up his hand. ‘I should have just said ‘no’. I wanted to help you but, in hindsight, all I did was provide you with a broken crutch. Nick, I can tell just by looking at you that you care about this girl – could see it the moment you laid eyes on her the night we fucked up, too. Which means you’re not going to be able to say ‘no’ when she asks you for more. Her inexperience is going to force you to get past your anxieties. You’re going to have to take control in order to show her – and give her – what she needs.’ He smiled at the slightly shocked look on Nick’s face. ‘That’s what I meant when I said you needed someone like Grace. I think she’s good for you because I think she’s the one who’s going to make you move on.’

The sound of something mechanical whirring loudly in the background saved Nick from having to say anything straight away. ‘Is this why you came out here today? To tell me I’m an emotional cripple?’ he asked eventually.

‘Well, to see for myself that you were doing okay, mainly. And because I was kind of curious to see your dust bath of an office.’ Tristan gestured at the busy construction site behind him with his hand. ‘I like what you’ve done with the place, by the way. That pile of dirt? Very House & Garden.’

‘Smart arse.’

Tristan slapped him on the arm. ‘I need to get going,’ he said as he started making his way back over to his car. ‘Client meeting at two thirty.’

‘That’s it?’ said Nick in disbelief as he kept pace beside him. ‘You really drove all the way over here to tell me …’ He raises his hands an shoulders in exasperation, ‘… What are you telling me exactly?’

Tristan opened the door of the convertible and turned his head as he dropped down into the driver’s seat. ‘Nick,’ he said as slammed the door shut and cranked the key over, ‘when the time comes, please trust yourself to do the right thing.’

And with that, he drove off, leaving Nick standing, perplexed, in a soft cloud of dust.

…………….

Jack dropped his wrist onto the drafting board and looked up from the drawing he was working on. Although he did all of his final plans on the computer he still preferred to use the old-school method of pen and paper to explore initial designs and ideas for his buildings. Not only did sketching help him to think more critically, it also made him feel … relaxed. With the project deadlines he had looming over the coming week, though, it was fair to say that having a clutch in his hand wasn’t helping the way it usually did. The price of success: more money coupled with a seemingly insurmountable mountain of work.

He rubbed a dark eyebrow with the back of his hand, stretched his arms up over his head, and looked at his watch.

3.00pm.

Shit, this day was dragging like a bitch. He’d spent all weekend in the office finalising the drawings for three of his other jobs and felt like he was living in the place. Jack flexed his fingers and glanced at over at Grace, who was smiling to herself as she worked at her computer. Whatever crap had been going on between her and Nick these past few weeks was obviously working itself out. He didn’t share his best friend’s sexual proclivities – couldn’t see the appeal of all that kinky shit he seemed to thrive on – but after fucking up with Grace so royally to start with, whatever the two of them were doing now seemed to be making her – and he hoped Nick – happy.

Jack looked away from Grace and gazed longingly at the bright sun on the other side of the studio windows. Man, he really needed to hit the climbing gym this evening, work off some of the stress that had been building up as a result of his ever-increasing workload. It was only a block up from the office and, normally, he went twice a week for a bouldering session with some other regulars. But for the past month his schedule had been completely hellish and everything, including his morning swim sessions, had gone out the window. Jack wasn’t the sort of person who liked sitting around indoors for too long, and the need to get out, to do something physical and relieve the tension inside of him was becoming a scratching ache. Tonight, he told himself firmly, he was going to have a blow out. He’d been putting in the hours, was nearly on top of things; he needed some down time.

Bzzz. Bzzz.

The sound of his mobile vibrating against the desk had Jack glancing over, reaching for it when he saw the name on the display.

‘Tess.’

‘Hey, Jack.’

‘What’s up?’ He looked at his watch again and frowned. ‘Shouldn’t you be at work?’ His twin had trained as a physiotherapist and – normally – it was next to impossible for her to make or receive calls during the day given how busy the practice she worked at was.

‘I am. I just ran outside for a minute to phone you.’

Jack took a swig from the coffee mug on his desk, grimacing when he realised that the liquid in it was stone cold. ‘Is everything okay?’

A hesitation.

‘Tess?’

‘Well, um, I was wondering if maybe we could have dinner tonight? I know you’re busy with work and everything but …’ There was a brief silence on the other end of the phone, the sound of Tess’s light breathing – as if she was bracing herself for what ever she was about to say next.

A feeling of unease stirred in Jack’s gut. ‘What’s wrong, Tess?’ he demanded.

‘It’s nothing urgent,’ she assured him, the words tumbling out in a hurry, as if she was trying to convince herself as much as him. ‘And I’d really rather not talk about it over the phone, if it’s all the same to you.’

‘Tess–’

‘Please, Jack. Can you make dinner? Are you free?’

Jack felt a stab of guilt at his twin’s words. ‘Of course I can, Tess,’ he assured her. ‘Look, I know things have been crazy lately but I always, always have time for you. You know that.’

‘I just don’t like to be a nuisance,’ she sighed. ‘It’s not like you haven’t had to deal with enough of my crap over the past few years.’

‘You are not a nuisance, Tess. A pain-in-the-arse twin sister, maybe. But never a nuisance. And I’m more than happy to deal with your crap. You’re my fucking family.’

He heard her laugh lightly, the sound soft like little bells.

‘Okay, then. I’m on a late shift today; I finish at seven forty-five – shall we meet at that Italian on Parchment Street? Say around eight thirty-ish?’

‘Tell you what. I’m going to run over to Peaks at six and do some bouldering with the guys for an hour or so. How ‘bout you meet me here at my office at eight and we can walk over together?’

‘‘Done.’ He could hear the relief in his sister’s voice. ‘See you tonight.’

‘Looking forward to it, Tessie.’

‘Love you, Jack.’

‘I love you, too.’

…………….

Title image: Historic drafting board via Wikimedia Commons

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