Unfinished Business: The David Trilogy, #2

By S C Cunningham

Male or female, everyone wants a piece of playboy David Howard. Until they realise they're on his list, his death list.

We follow David and his prey from the sordid underbelly of London's elite to the dark secrets of the home counties, and the stunning Amalfi Coast.

As opposites attract, families deceive, and celebrity media goes viral, his obsession becomes out of control. It's not his fault, they made him that way.

Is redemption out of reach?

Steamy Psycho Thriller by Crime Writer/Crime Investigator S C Cunningham.

AUTHOR

"My job is to provide raw, sizzling, entertaining escapism by the bucket load. I love my job!"  SCCunningham

Having worked in the industries she writes about, British crime writer and crime investigator SCCunningham creates (crossover/standalone) thrillers, crime, steamy romance, family drama, and urban fantasy, with a skilled mix of sizzling tension, fuelled humor, and thought-provoking authority, rare in fiction. Her novels are attracting Hollywood attention.

An ex-model, British-born of Irish roots she married rock musician saxophonist Raphael (Raf) Ravenscroft (Pink Floyd, Marvin Gaye, Abba, America, Tina Turner, Mike Oldfield, Chris Rea, Robert Plant, Gerry Rafferty, 'Baker Street' sax intro), and has worked in the worlds of music, film, sports, celebrity management, children's charity, and crime (CID, RIT, LRT, Crime Investigations. Wanted & Absconder Unit. MCT Intelligence Analyst).

As respite from crime, she writes empowering children's picture books and how-to series.

Her supported causes are; Veterans | DA |  MH | Child Animal and Planet Protection

DAVID REVIEWS

"Writing doesn't get much better than this."
"It SIZZLES! An erotic, neurotic, sensual vision. Stunning. Blown away to the point of speechless, shocking, vivid, bloody well written!"
"I raise a glass; I'd love to meet anyone who writes like this."
"Blown away to the point of speechless, shocking, vivid, bloody well written!"
"Read in one sitting! BRILLIANT!"
"This is a fine psycho-thriller, fabulously engaging."
"It's slick, twisted, funny, and you won't want to stop reading."
"The adrenaline running through this had my pulse racing! I was on the edge of my seat throughout."
"Dark, complex, draws you in, I flew through this so fast."
"An addictive read, one of those you don't realise is creeping up on you until you can't put it down!"
"The storyline had me gripped."
"A gripping read. From the first page, you are immersed in David's world."
"Great fun. Excellent writing style. Hopefully on TV one day."
"Her characters are sultry and as real as they can get."
"It makes you shiver; it makes you laugh out loud."
"My God you shocked my shoes off. Excellent work!"
"The end twist is a complete surprise."
"It intrigues you; it arouses you."
"Shocking, an eye-opener! Read in one sitting."
"You're a very brave lady Ms C, I love what you've done: you've somehow given us all the things we want to read about in one."
"A mind-bending instant classic. Be on the lookout for more from this immensely talented rising literary star."
"I listened to the audio and loved it! It's sexy, highly amusing, and draws you in. Have bought four copies for my friends."
"Couldn't put it down, a real page-turner. Nicely crafted, in a category all of its own. Would make a great film!"
"Bravo! SCC artfully weaves a compelling, delicious, salacious, novel. A new twist on the modern romance and the classic psycho-thriller. A fabulous read!''

sccunningham [dot] com

• Language: English
• Publisher: S C Cunningham
• Release date: Oct 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386584032

S C Cunningham

British Author of psychological thrillers, steamy romance, contemporary supernatural, and crime dramas, with a skilled mix of fueled tension, dark humor, and pulsating passion. Her works offer a fresh level of sincerity and authority, rare in fiction. As a respite from the grime of crime she writes illustrates and narrates children's books. The Ginormous Series teaches important life messages. She also writes The How-To Series; Write That Book, and Feel Good. An ex-model, British-born of Irish roots, she married a rock musician and has worked in the exciting worlds of music, film, celebrity management, and Crime (CID Crime Investigator - Wanted & Absconder Unit - Major Crime Team, Intel Analyst). REVIEWS “Hard-hitting, powerful, this rom thriller has it all; sex, murder, power, glamour, secrets, lies, revenge, wicked laugh out loud. No wonder this one's going to Hollywood.” “Gripping Story - I admire this author, she isn't afraid to push the boundaries.” “Holy Shit is all I can say!!! These books are going to make AMAZING films!!!”  “Pick it up when you have plenty of time because you won't want to put it down.” “50 shades crossed with Martina Cole.” “I read a lot of books, this book moves up to one of my top 5 reads.” “My God you shocked my shoes off. Excellent work!” “I read this book in 3 days, you just don't want to stop reading.” “Had me reading to the small hours. Gripping!" “Powerful emotional writing with bags of tension, a classic psychological thriller. Loved it.” “I raise a glass, I'd love to meet anyone who writes like this.” “Blown away to the point of speechless. Shocking, vivid, bloody well written!!” “This reminds me a little of American Psycho only so very much better!” “A talented writer, I WANT MORE!” www.sccunningham.com

Book preview

THE DAVID TRILOGY

Book II

Unfinished Business

by

S C Cunningham

The Penance List

Unfinished Business

For My Sins

THE DAVID TRILOGY

The Story So Far

He’d waited long enough; it was now her turn to die. He hadn’t always been evil, the grown-ups had made him that way.

Fun-loving career girl, Tara Warr, and her friends Helen Howard, and Josie James, met regularly for mischievous lunches, dissecting disastrous love affairs and the complicated science of men. If they’d looked out the window of their restaurant, they would’ve seen a menacing camera lens focused on their every move.

Click, click... Click, click.

They had no idea that Tara was on a revenge list, that her irreverent world of fun was about to be shattered. They were far too busy juggling messy private lives to notice her stalker.

Tara worked in advertising with old school friend and talented fashion photographer Seb Maloney. She had an affair with their high-profile client, Italian footballer Franco Rossellini.

Helen was a dangerous mix of low self-esteem, boredom, and wealth. Spiralling out of control, she searched for love and affirmation by shagging anything with a pulse. She had always been jealous of her younger brother, David, a beautiful cherubic choirboy, and clearly their mother’s favourite. Whilst at school she bullied him mercilessly. Tara would often find herself stepping in to defend the waif of a boy.

Josie was not the successful-something-in-the-city she’d have her friends believe, but a high-class hooker. After years of lying, exhausted with the deceit, sleaze, and shame of a double life, she finally told her friends the truth.  

At seven years old, cute little David Howard attended a boarding school where his beauty and vulnerability were a curse. He became the headmaster’s special one. Everyone wanted a piece of him, he was easy prey.

To survive the abuse, he fantasised that his big sister’s friend, Tara, was his guardian angel, that one day they would be together. Using her as a distraction from the abuse, he found solace in the obsessive planning of their future.

He would often hide in the science lab, learning how to use a scalpel and perfect the dissection of small creatures, the God-like power gave him back control.

One day, he plucked up courage and wrote to Tara declaring his undying love. But the feeling wasn’t mutual, she saw him as just her best friend’s little brother. She politely spurned his advances.

He received her devastating refusal letter on the same day he learned of his mother’s death in a car crash. Afraid and alone, losing the only two people in the world that cared for him, he finally cracked.

Forming a hard scarab shell he turned inward, losing any form of empathy, and sense of right from wrong.  Shifting his alliance from God to the devil, he wrote a revenge list, and vowed that when he was big enough, old enough, strong enough, he would take the lives of those who’d hurt him. The penance list kept him sane throughout the ten years of abuse – a killer was formed.

Years later, all grown up into a tall, dark, stunningly handsome, bisexual tour de force, he used his inheritance, stealth-like cunning, and vivid imagination to keep one step ahead of the police and hunt down his tormentors. We understood the boy but feared the man he had become.

Tara was the last name on the list, he still loved her dearly, so let her live as long as possible.

Unbeknownst to her, he’d moved into the apartment above hers and set up recording equipment to spy on her.  He stalked her every move, collected images, visited her at night, drugged her, and made love to her. She had no idea. She doesn’t even remember the little boy from school. Helen never mentioned him, which is no surprise, as they didn’t get on.

When Tara fell in love with Franco, David realised he’d lost her for good. If he couldn’t have her, no one could. So, it was time for her to die.

He sent intimate images of the couple viral, ruining the advertising campaign they are working on and angering her bosses, she lost her job, her relationship, and her confidence. He then swooped in for the kill, using Seb as bait.

Knowing that Seb had had a crush on him since school, David seduced Tara’s work colleague, and used him as bait to snare her. She fell into his trap. He locked her up for three drug-hazed days, just long enough to break her spirit. He wined and dined her, made love to her, instilling a warped mix of fear and lust. She became his adoring puppet. It was time for her to die.

As he cleaned scalpels and prepared to take her life, her brave, bumbling, friends, led by Franco’s ex SAS chauffer, Michael, burst into his apartment thwarting his plans.

David was arrested and Tara ended up in hospital.

As she slept off the drugs, Helen visited her in the ward.

Next time we’ll get you, BITCH, she hissed.

UNFINISHED BUSINESS

by

S C Cunningham

Chelsea, London

Oh so gently, not to wake her, he pulled back the bed sheet and slowly eased her legs apart. The cool night air teased naked skin and pumped her senses on high alert.

Delicious, pulsing excitement built between her legs... he’s here, he’s here!

Eyes tight shut, breaths shallow, limbs ragdoll limp, she faked sleep, desperately wanting to peek through lashes, but it was too risky.

Within the stillness of the dark room, she could make out the soft rise and fall of measured breaths, and feel the heat of cold, calm, eyes burning into her. The devastatingly handsome David Howard was standing over her bed, silent, broody, menacing, leisurely taking in the view of her exposed body.

Click, click.

He’d brought his camera.

A chill went through her, instinctively she wanted to grab the sheet and cover up but dare not move for fear of losing him.

Click, click.

Silence.

She waited, and waited... what is he doing?

Then, she heard the faint sound of a zipper, and the rustle of clothes falling to the floor... shit, he’s undressing!

Her heart pumped, her hips intuitively tilted upwards, inviting... no, no, no, calm, don’t blow it... she masked the movement, pretending to shift in her sleep.

More silence... now what?

She quietly begged... touch me, please, just touch me... the anticipation killing her.

His breathing started to labour, a soft slapping, chafing of skin on skin, building in speed, he let out a low back-of-the-throat groan... he’s wanking, he’s standing over me and wanking.

She fought the urge to smile, to sit up and take him in her mouth... wait.

He moved to the end of the bed and leaned forward; the mattress dipped as he crawled up between her legs and knelt between thighs, the tingling warmth of his skin brushed hers. 

She wanted to wrap her legs around his hips and pull him onto her, but instead she lay still, feigning noninterest, feigning sleep... wait.

He stretched up to the window above her bed and slowly pulled back the curtain, careful not to make a sound.

A yellow streetlamp glow bathed the room, highlighting the curves of her beautiful body, he knelt in silence, staring, for what seemed like an age, driving her nuts... do something damn it, do something!.. she silent screamed.

As if he could hear, he leaned forward and tenderly trailed strong, agile, fingers the length of her inner thighs, easing them further apart further... oh my god.

Her hips lifted in reply, every morsel of her being ached for him to be inside her. She was wet, very wet.

The bed creaked with warning as he lowered his head to blow warm teasing air between open legs.  Her breath caught, longing pulled at her stomach... oh fuck!

Blood pumped her groin, juices eased lips apart, glistening, twinkling at him to enter.

‘I know you’re awake,’ he whispered, his voice low and hoarse.

‘Don’t move, keep your eyes closed... you’re going to like this.’

He dipped his head and opened his mouth.

Chapter One

Visiting Room, HM Belmarsh Prison, UK

He wanted her dead and she wanted him naked, in her bed.

Why? It was sick, irrational, and dangerous. She was a grown sensible woman, what the hell was she thinking, craving a man that had tried to kill her? It was  fucked up.

The judge had acknowledged his schooldays were to blame, as a boy he’d had to deal with atrocious acts at the hands of his guardians, resulting in his actions as a man. She understood this and felt sorry for him, but his childhood had nothing to do with her, it was none of her damn business, why the hell should she have to suffer his wrath, be on his death list? Hadn’t he killed enough?

Noted, she could have handled it better, she should have taken his adolescent obsession seriously, talked to him, realised what was happening and stood up for him.

A mere child herself, but someone may have listened, there must have been bruises and marks on his body to prove it. The what ifs fuelled her guilt and anger, twenty years later the ripple effect of the abusers’ actions still caused pain.

Torn between fearing the man and sorrow for the boy, she’d spent the months since his arrest in emotional limbo. She wasn’t sure what’d happened in the three lost days of her kidnap, but the tables had turned, she now wanted him, missed him, and dreamed of him. She’d somehow become trapped in his warped obsessive world... had she been drugged? Brainwashed? Was she going mad?

She needed to face the bastard and stop his hold over her, take back control, build a normal relationship with a normal human being, and have a normal life; if such a thing existed... he’s just a man for chrissakes, get a grip!

Sitting uncomfortably in a hard bucket seat, she suddenly didn’t feel quite so brave. Anxiously crossing and uncrossing her legs, she picked at invisible dirt on her black suit, the one she saved for funerals and bank manager meetings... I can’t do this, I’m not ready, he’s not just a man, he’s David Howard, a fucked up psychotic killer, that I can’t resist, who wants me to pay for his  fucked-up childhood.

A wave of clarity washed over her, she shook her head... this isn’t going to work, I’ve got to get out of here, ignore the letters, ignore the dreams, move out of the country, and forget him, seeing his face will only bring it all back... stronger, shit!

She spun round to tell her lawyer that she’d changed her mind, too late, a key turned noisily in its lock, the heavy door of the connecting room squealed open, her guards and chatty lawyer fell silent.

Unable to look, she kept eyes down, focusing on a loose thread in the hem of her skirt. David had arrived. Even through partitioned Perspex glass she felt his presence before seeing it, powerful, carnal menace.... fuck, here we go again.

Pulling at the thread, a row of stitches burst open, causing her hem to gape open... ok, deep breath, calm, don’t let him get to me., breathe.

In deafening silence, David’s towering frame filled the doorway. He was a perfect specimen, all Hollywood face, head high, chiselled jaw, strong neck, chest out, legs apart, muscled arms, broad shoulders, pumped torso, flat stomach.

He stood tall, was proud of his body and knew very well how to parade it. All eyes were on him, except  hers.

Even with shackled wrists and shabby prison scrubs he oozed uber calm, cool magnetism, an exciting promise of imminent danger and mind-blowing sex.

He stood in the doorway, watching, his face void of expression, his shackles jangling. With predator senses scanning surroundings, he sniffed the room.

The pungent smell of onions and urine hung in the warm recycled air. His eyes flashed to the red flickering lights of wall-mounted microphones. His head tilted to look up at ceiling cameras whirring overhead.

Looking directly into a lens and gave a slow salacious wink, enjoying the attention; it was his turn to be watched, to be filmed, he would give them a show.

His eyes finally rested on the beautiful blonde sat waiting for him, he caught his breath. Keeping balled fists tight against his stomach, he resisted the childlike urge of a triumphant punch to the air. His angel looked stunning... she’s here, she’s here, yes, yes!

As per usual he assumed control. He remained in the doorway staring at her through the glass, refusing to move until she looked up and acknowledged his presence.

The room fell quiet as the guards and lawyer waited, curious for her reaction; they knew what this monster had done to her. She was either very brave or very stupid to face her would-be murderer again.

Her lawyer had strongly advised against the visit, David was dangerous, scheming, and unpredictable. His wealth gave him power, both inside and outside prison walls. But she refused to listen, the man haunted her, after months of sleepless nights she needed to face him, unhook his talons, and stop the vivid dreams, the incessant longing, the feelings of guilt, that it was all her fault. The lawyer shook his head, it would be a mistake.

She sat quietly, head bowed, staring into her lap, he’d started the mind fuck games already, it was pointless resisting, she knew his modus operandi all too well.

Her heart thumped. With a leap of courage, she took a deep breath, masked nerves, steeled her face, and looked up into the eyes of the man that owned her, the man that wanted her dead, the man whose body she craved... moth to the flame.

Dark provocative eyes were waiting, she’d opened the door and let them in. They twinkled at the connection and pierced straight to the back of her head... gotcha! Paralysing, searching out, rummaging through senses, taking control.

She recognised this hypnotic gaze; he’d used it to calm her during the abduction... the abduction. It sounded strange. Things like that didn’t happen to her, they happened to other people. She was a successful, carefree, girl about town before David. She had a good job, a fun, simple , life and slept well at night.

A flash of intimate memories cine-streamed her mind, she shook her head ... fuck him for doing this to me, and shame on me for allowing it... time to put an end to the stupidity.

Swallowing hard, she wiped sweaty hands the length of her thigh and took a deep breath, stilling the thump in her chest... he will not break me, not this time.

David watched her, the edge of his lips curling into a cat-got-the-cream grin, she was a mess, on the verge of tears, trying hard to keep it together, his dominance had been re-established... oh, how I adore you Tara Warr, you were made for me.

He stepped through the doorway into the visitor’s room, followed by two guards. He looked healthy, tanned, and cheerful, nothing like the pale, broken, repenting convict she was expecting...  what is this place, a bloody holiday camp?

Faking calm, she watched him saunter towards the chair in front of her and settle leisurely into its seat. Typical David, he took his time, enjoying all eyes on him.

She’d forgotten how intimidating he could be. His air of menace and mocking grin frightened her, crushed what little composure she had. She eyed his shackles, doubting their strength... what if he breaks free? Her hands began to shake, she clenched them tight in her lap.

She wanted to get up and run, but her legs felt frozen to the spot, paralysed, as if invisible tentacles bound them. She couldn’t move... fuck, fuck, fuck, this is a bad idea.

Killer and prey sat staring at each other through the flimsy glass partition.

He’d obviously been pumping iron whilst inside, his body pulsed as strong as an ox. An image of him naked, pushing her against a wall, flashed her mind. She caught her breath, blushed, and looked down at her hands... shit, shit, shit, he’s doing it again.

David smiled; he could read her like a book.

He sprawled back in his chair and calmly surveyed the scene before him. Four burly prison guards, a rotund, sweating lawyer, and the beautiful Tara Warr were watching him. Waiting for him to speak. He had their attention.

He had her attention, the love of his life, sitting all prim and proper, butter wouldn’t melt, had come to visit him. He sniffed the air, locating her smell as it seeped through from the connecting room. He loved her smell.

But why hadn’t she come to him before, when he needed her? All those years ago, bent over the headmaster’s desk, his body torn in two... why?

He sighed... no matter, she’s here now. These past months, locked up, he’d missed her; she’d been his obsession for over twenty years, his every waking, sleeping, living thought. They had a bond, in life and in death she was his, he was hers, she just didn’t know it yet.

Watching her had been his life’s work, it had kept him alive. He knew every inch of her, what she smelt like, tasted like, felt like, knew the tiny sound she made at the back of her throat as he entered her. He loved every detail, every movement, every gesture, he knew her by heart. He watched her now as her body stiffened... did he disgust her? His eyes hardened.

Sniffing the air he smelt fear,  fear was good, better than disgust. His cock lurched.

He knew she was resisting, but that made it all the more exciting. He needed to be patient, he could do patience when needed. He sat quietly, observing, staring  into her eyes. Waiting for her to stare back.

She fought it at first, but then succumbed. Her breathing calmed and her body stilled, he had her full attention.

Watching her eyes, he suddenly saw it... there, there it is! The black of her pupils dilated to treble their size... attraction... ha! I have you, my angel. David is back, and you still love him... ha!

He smiled, she may have been out of physical reach for the past few months, but the mental hold was still there, she was his.

Relaxing further into his seat, he let his legs fall open. All the while keeping eye contact, he dropped his hand to his lap and cupped his cock through loose tracky bottoms, giving it an encouraging tweak, ever on the verge of arousal it, leapt to attention.

Heady palpable, his energy pulled at her through the glass, she flinched with annoyance and turned away. This man had tried to kill her, she should be spitting on him right now, not watching him get a hard on, wanting to climb up onto his lap... the bastard.

How can you fear and want someone at the same time? Hypnotism, programming... what has he done to me? he’s a killer for chrissakes, what the hell is wrong with me?

She closed her eyes, rocked her head back and took a long slow calming breath... focus, it’s only fellow human, with a few issues... well, more than a few issues... rape, kidnap, murder, is a little serious... but he had good reason, I would’ve done the same... urrgh, there I go again, making excuses for him.

The room fell silent. She looked around, all eyes were on her, waiting for her to speak. She had called this meeting.

The four bulky wardens, two behind David and two behind Tara, stood attentive, backs rigid, arms crossed, legs apart, waiting for any sign of trouble.

They stole cursory glances at the classy, long-legged, blonde. She was not the norm for Her Majesty’s Belmarsh. And by his reaction to her, a thickening cock, it seemed lover boy David swung both ways, Jonesy would not be happy.

Warden Jones was not, one of the guards standing behind David, he assessed his competition... so this is the bitch he’s obsessed with, the name he calls out in the night.

He gave David a warning punch to the shoulder, knocking his hand away from the semi lob, resisting the urge to reach down and grab it himself. As with everything about David, his cock was impressive, and Jonesy had seen enough cocks in his time to know, the prison showers were a daily peep show.

He looked over at the bitch. She didn’t have what David needed, what the hell was her hold over him?

Tara looked up to find the furious, red-faced, Jonesy inspecting her legs. She tugged at her skirt pulling it over knees. The two guards behind her sniggered, she glanced back, not understanding the joke. She looked over to her lawyer for support, the overweight, sweaty little man was standing at the door hugging his briefcase, anxious to leave... he said this was a bad idea, he was right.

She’d arrived with brave intention, but the moment she saw his handsome face and lounge-lizard body sprawled across the seat in front of her, she froze, unable to breathe, let alone string a sentence together.

She knew he was evil, knew what lurked beneath the handsome packaging, she’d experienced it first-hand. But she also knew the energy in his fingertips, the power in his kisses, the incredible feeling of connection as he entered her, that when he wanted, he could also be the most captivating, funny, sweetest human on the planet... what a waste, how could someone blessed with so much, turn out to be so bad... but it wasn’t his fault... could she help him, change him?

He broke the silence.

‘Darling Tara, it’s good to see you, you got my letters then,’ he beamed, eyes flirting, brazenly scanning her body. ‘Sorry I can’t offer you a drink.’

Bile retched at her throat... the bastard.

Closing her eyes, she was back in his apartment, naked, bound star-shaped to the bed, choking on the red wine being poured down her throat, drowning, fighting for life, his laughter ringing in her ears.

Panic pumped her chest, she put a hand on her heart to quieten it ... breathe in, out... in, and out.

Focusing on the scratched, smeared glass between them, she forced herself to tune into the sounds of prison; slamming doors, metal on metal, distant cries, life outside the suffocating visitors’ room... breathe in and out... in and out.

Knuckles clenched tight, she dug fingernails into the palm of her hand, forcing her mind to still, to concentrate on the pain... he can’t get to me here, I’m safe.... in, and out.

They sat in silence.

He stared at her, tilting his head sideways as if analysing a rare specimen in a laboratory. He missed Heddington Hall’s science lab, his secret haven where he had God-like control, dissecting small creatures that couldn’t fight back, a safe place away from the  headmaster.

‘Tara, look at me,’ he teased, soft, seductive, snakelike. ‘Don’t be scared, imagine I’m making love to you... you know, how we used to... I promise not to stop till you’re shaking... go on, imagine, go there, for just one itsy-bitsy second baby... you know you want to.’

Unable to meet his stare she lowered her eyes and fidgeted in her seat... fuck! She picked at the thread on her hem, loosening it further, the stitches rippled open with ease.

For a nanosecond she went there, her face and neck flushed.

He smiled, nothing had changed, he had control, she was still his angel.

Giving a cocky I-told-you-so glance to Warden Jones he snapped into chatty, jovial, David, as if old friends meeting in a bar.

‘So, come on, tell me, how are you? Have you missed me? What’s the goss? How’s my sister, Seb, Michael? It’s been a while, but my goodness we had fun, didn’t we?’ he beamed.

Memories of the three days they spent together were hazy, distorted by drugs and the mind games he’d played. Brutal one minute, tender the next, frightening yet romantic, gushing love, yet wanting her dead... wanting her dead, three little words that filled her with fear. David always got what he wanted.

On that final day, what if her friends hadn’t gate-crashed his apartment, what if they’d arrived moments later? She shook her head, denying access to the image. He would have opened her body with the ease of lab rat dissection.

Now, listening to his smooth low voice, watching his mouth, and following his hands, more images began to surface, skin on skin, fingers caressing, tongues searching... she shook her head chasing them away.

‘My, my... we had fun,’ he smiled, reading her. ‘You’re a screamer.’

She flushed pink, a stifled giggle came from the guard standing behind her.

Another image flashed her thoughts, David, naked, between her legs, bearing down on her, his face distorted, about to come, pumping hard, shunting her body up the mattress.

She gasped at the force of the image and tried to hid the sound by shuffling her chair and clearing her throat. But he caught it, and nodded, all knowing.

‘I would offer you a delicious glass of Chateauneuf-du-Pape,’ he whispered softly. ‘I know it’s your favourite.’

More memories cascaded, suffocation, panic, the taste of bile, she couldn’t breathe. Putting a hand to mouth she swallowed back the acid rising in her throat.

‘But we don’t have that vintage in here darling T,’ he reached out as if to touch her.

She snapped back in the chair, its metal legs scraping noisily on the stone floor, the wardens stepped forward ready to pounce. He raised both hands in innocent protest.

‘Hey, hey, hey," he soothed. ‘Nothing to see here,’ they stepped back.

‘Shh... little one,’ he whispered. ‘You’re frightening the locals. Don’t worry I can’t get to you right now, I’m a little tied up.’

Extending shackled wrists to the glass, he waved them in front of her.

‘But I will... I will,’ lowering his voice, barely audible against the hiss of the speaker. ‘You will taste me again, have no fear.’

She stared into his eyes, a memory of leisurely running her tongue the length of his gorged cock crashed her thoughts, she turned away, subconsciously wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, licking her lips, she could taste him.

Was he using trigger words to activate memories?

He was right, they weren’t over.  Prison hadn’t changed anything, he could still haunt her. She would never be free. Anger flashed her face... how the fuck dare he.

He noticed the change in her demeanour,