Dragonfly of Venus Read online

  Dragonfly of Venus

  by Susan Ferrier MacKay

  ISBN: 978-1-927789-57-5

  Published by Bev Editions at Kobo

  Copyright 2016 by Susan Ferrier Mackay

  All rights reserved

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  About the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  Elizabeth twirled through the air as lightly and easily as a leaf falling from a tree. She felt no fear, just confidence in her ability to execute her next move. She caught a trapeze in one hand, then a second trapeze in the other. The crowd below ‘oohed’ as she balanced between the two bars, lifting her body into a handstand. She split her legs apart as far as they could go then lowered her feet so that one rested on each of the bars. Lifting her body up, she was now spread eagled so the audience had a perfect view. She reached down and unzipped the crotch of her skimpy outfit so she was completely exposed. The crowd ‘aahed’. This is what they’d come to see. The intensity of their stares at her private area acted as a stimulant. She felt herself engorge and grow excited. Her clitoris was swelling. How far could she open? How far could she go? She lowered herself until her legs became parallel with her ears. She was now folded completely in two, open like a Chinese fan. Elizabeth disappeared into herself. All that remained was a moist pink flower, like a Georgia O’Keefe painting, suspended above the crowd.

  Elizabeth heard her name. Declan was shaking her awake, bringing her a coffee.

  “I need more than coffee,” she murmured. Still half asleep she reached out, feeling for the zipper on his pants. Turned on by her dream, she slid the fastening slowly down until Declan stood fully erect in front of her. She still found it hard to believe how easily he became aroused. But that was one of the joys of having a lover fifteen years her junior. She was at her sexual peak and so was he. The heavy mushroom cap of Declan’s dick slid easily into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around it, loving the sound of Declan’s low moan. Her warm hands left the bedclothes and stroked his shaft. He was good and hard.

  “C’mere baby,” she said. “I need you.”

  Her clit was still swollen from the eroticism of the dream. Declan dropped his pants and climbed in beside her. She guided his erection between her legs, moving the tip of his penis faster and faster as if it was her finger and she was pleasuring herself. She came within seconds, encouraging him to plunge into her while a surf of ecstasy pounded her shore. His orgasm met hers in a long low shudder.

  So this is what married life would be like. Hot sex all the time. She couldn’t wait to become Mrs. Declan Thomas. She was marrying a rock star, one of the biggest in the world and the most gorgeous man she’d ever met. She stared into the indigo-blue of Declan’s eyes. They were filled with admiration. He kissed her lovingly.

  “Relax. You deserve a lie in. I’ll go see to the kids.”

  Elizabeth rolled onto her side, finishing up her coffee. She could hear Camille and Jack bouncing up and down on their beds yelling “Da-dee. Mum-mee.” Elizabeth pretended not to notice as her bedroom door swung slowly open and three figures crawled along the carpet. “Boo” they shouted in unison. Elizabeth responded with a squeal of surprise.

  “We want the big bed,” yelled the twins together, looking from Elizabeth to Declan. Elizabeth reached out to Camille while Declan boosted Jack’s bottom. Soon all four of them were on the bed, laughing and tickling each other.

  For someone who’d been vehemently opposed to having children, Declan had embraced fatherhood with gusto. He never complained about getting up with them in the middle of the night, or changing diapers when they were babies. He spent hours playing songs for them, teaching them both to strum chords on his guitar while he moved his fingers up and down the frets. More than once Declan had apologized for his negative reaction when he’d found out Elizabeth was pregnant. At the time Elizabeth had been hurt and angry. It had taken a visit to Declan’s mother Joan, for Elizabeth to understand that Declan’s reaction was based on fear.

  Joan explained that she and her husband had adopted Declan fifteen months after her twin sister Jean gave birth to him. Single, suffering from bi-polar disorder and severe post-partum depression, Jean had hung herself. Declan, a toddler at the time, was alone with his mother for three days until they were discovered. Afraid he’d pass along his mother’s mental illness, Declan had a vasectomy, but not before he’d had an erotic encounter with Elizabeth on a hotel balcony in Paris. It was the night the twins were conceived.

  “The odds against Jack and Camille coming into this world were huge,” said Elizabeth.

  “Yeah, those two souls were determined to get here somehow,” he replied, kissing his children on the head. “It’s crazy because now I can’t imagine a world without them.”

  “Me neither,” said Elizabeth contentedly as the three-year olds flung themselves around on the bed. “I’m the luckiest woman in the world. And soon I’ll be married.”

  A flicker of concern crossed Declan’s face.

  “Are you sure it’s the right thing to do?

  “Absolutely. Of course. Why? Aren’t you?” said Elizabeth.

  “I don’t want to be with any other woman.”

  Elizabeth kissed him.

  “Then its perfect. We’ll grow old together. Although, when you’re seventy-five I’ll be ninety.”

  “Lets not talk about that,” he said.

  “It’s true though,” said Elizabeth.

  “I can’t bear to think of you being ninety,” replied Declan.

  “I promise if I live to be ninety I’ll give you a divorce so you can find yourself a cute seventy-year old,” said Elizabeth.

  Declan laughed. “It’s a deal.”

  “Haloooo?” Bridie’s highland lilt echoed from the kitchen. “Where is everyone? And where’s m
a wee angels?”

  Elizabeth threw on a robe.

  “We’re in here Bridie. I’m afraid the twins aren’t dressed yet.”

  “Och. That’s nae a problem.”

  As soon as the twins saw Bridie, they barreled towards her, entwining themselves around her legs. Bridie had come almost every day since the twins were born, helping Elizabeth take care of them. The kiddies adored her.

  Bridie took both children and bustled them into their room. In twenty minutes she had them dressed and ready to go out the door.

  “Ah thought ah’d take the bairns to tha beach today.”

  “Good idea. A couple of hours on the beach should wear them out for their nap,” said Elizabeth. “They’re angels when they’re sleeping.”

  “Aye. See ya later.”

  When the front door closed, Elizabeth returned to the bedroom. Declan lay sprawled on top of the covers. He had a look on his face she recognized. She climbed onto the bed and straddled him. Slowly she opened her robe so he could see her nakedness. He ran his hands up to her breasts, still firm but heavier now that she had nursed twins. Declan began to slowly lick his way down to her navel.

  “You taste so good everywhere,” he said.

  “I’m still wet from earlier,” said Elizabeth.

  Declan pushed her gently back so she was leaning on her elbows with her legs bent and open in front of him.

  He leaned down, inhaling her deeply.

  “You smell of sex,” he said. “Hot sex. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

  Declan knew Elizabeth’s trigger was her erotic fantasies. Since they’d been together he’d encouraged, no, insisted she share these steamy stories with him. At first she’d been embarrassed, afraid of what he would think of her. She’d reluctantly confessed one about meeting a stranger.

  Not a word had passed between her and the faceless man sitting beside her on a barstool. The man placed her hand on his crotch then unzipped himself, slipping her hand inside to feel his enormous hard-on. In the fantasy, Elizabeth made her way to the bathroom, removing her panties then pushing her weight against a heavy fire door that led to a back alley. The alley was deserted and dark. Elizabeth could hear voices and music coming from a nearby apartment building. As she turned around, a pair of strong arms grabbed her from behind, pushing her against the wall. Two fingers plunged inside her, followed by a massive erection. The man came within seconds. As casually as if he’d gone outside for a smoke, he turned and disappeared back into the bar.

  Elizabeth stood there gasping. She could feel wetness dripping down her legs. Her clit was throbbing. She had to make it stop. The only way she could do that was by touching herself. She moved her fingers rapidly over herself, feeling the approaching climax. Just as she was about to peak a bright light shone on her pubic area. In her excitement Elizabeth hadn’t noticed two cops doing their rounds. As an orgasm gushed over her Elizabeth heard them talk.

  “Jeesus H Christ. It’s a woman.”

  “Jerking off.”

  Elizabeth quickly pulled down her skirt and darted back through the fire door. The bar was crowded. The stranger was gone. The cops hadn’t seen her face. Elizabeth grabbed the coat she’d left draped on the barstool and headed onto the street. She finished the fantasy but Declan wanted to hear more. His tongue was circling over her. He pushed her finger inside herself then took it out and held it to her nose.

  “So you’re out on the street with fingers tasting of yourself.”

  “Yes,” whispered Elizabeth.

  “And what if you hadn’t got inside the bar soon enough? What if the cops had caught you? What then?” He was hugely aroused.

  Elizabeth was moaning now, back in the alley. The first cop unzipped himself. His dick, black and hard, stood straight out like a truncheon. While his partner held Elizabeth’s shoulders, the cop pushed into her. With several hard thrusts he was done.

  “My turn,” said the second cop. His dick was even bigger than the first’s.

  “Turn her around. I like going in the back,” he said.

  Elizabeth was so wet by now, the cop slid easily into her. The other cop continued to train his flashlight on her ass, watching eagerly as his partner came. When he was done he zipped up.

  “You’re lucky we don’t charge you M’aam. Have a good night.”

  Declan’s tongue was now moving furiously over her clit. He stopped, locking his gaze with hers.

  “Three men. Within a few minutes? And one in your ass? What am I going to do with such a bad girl?”

  “Yes,” panted Elizabeth. “I’m so bad. Fuck me hard. Please.”

  “Yes M’aam. Your wish is my command.”

  “No baby,” whispered Elizabeth. “Your command is my wish.”

  Declan gazed down at her, his eyes bright with lust.

  “Turn over,” he growled. “On your knees.”

  Elizabeth did as he said.

  Declan entered her from behind, slowly at first, then picking up speed and pulling Elizabeth back against him. As the rhythm of their lovemaking increased, Declan threw back his head, shutting his eyes, his handsome face a portrait of ecstasy. Elizabeth peeked over her shoulder. She loved this facial expression of Declan’s. It meant he was lost in her, that she had carried him away to an island of ecstasy. Faster and faster, the couple moved in unison. She could hear Declan gasping, then finally a loud groan as he erupted into her. From her knees she lowered herself onto the bed with Declan lying on top of her. He caressed the back of her neck with gentle kisses.

  “Best sex I ever had,” he murmured into her ear.

  “Me too,” said Elizabeth, adding, “Sometimes I wonder what I’ve done to deserve you.”

  “You’ve either been very good, or very bad. Maybe both together.”

  Declan wrapped her long, red hair around his fist. He pulled her head gently up so he could kiss her cheek.

  “I love you Elizabeth Harding, with all my being.”

  The two lay together in silence as their thumping heartbeats returned to normal, then each rolled onto their side so they could gaze into each other’s eyes.

  “I love you too Declan Thomas, with all my soul.”

  Elizabeth let out a deep sigh. She and Declan had fucked hundreds of times by now, but each time felt like the first. She never tired of arousing him.

  “Why the sigh?” asked Declan.

  “It’s a sigh of contentment,” she said. “I love you so much. Without you I am nothing.”

  “No Ms. Harding. Without me you are still an immensely strong and capable woman.”

  “That may be true, but also a lonely one. You complete me.”

  “Yin and yang,” said Declan.

  He took Elizabeth’s right wrist and joined it with his own. At the base of their hands, where the skin met, two halves of the yin yang symbol joined to make a whole.

  “My one and only tattoo,” said Elizabeth.

  “My one and only love,” said Declan kissing her. “Care for another coffee?’

  “Yes please.”

  Declan sprang out of bed. “I’ll bring you one.”

  Elizabeth watched Declan’s naked body stride out of the room. He had a figure like Michelangelo’s David, a study of male perfection. She never tired of watching him. In the last few months he seemed to have filled out, his adolescent skinniness replaced by a more solid, sculpted masculinity. His muscles were lean and hard from martial arts but not overly developed. He kept himself in shape by running on the beach, or wherever he happened to find himself.

  Elizabeth thought back to when she’d first met him. The attraction between them had been electric and spontaneous. She’d told herself it was ridiculous. She was then forty, in a position of power. As the head of North America’s most prestigious talent management agency, she could make or break his career. He was a young man of twenty-four, ambitious and supremely talented. Between lustful thought and action laid a vast chasm of impossibility, a chasm she’d managed to breach. No, that wasn’t e
ntirely right. Declan had pursued her as well, insisting she open her mind and heart to him. She had given him what he wanted, in bed, and on the world stage. Now, with two number one hits in a year, Declan was in constant demand for performances and T.V. shows. Money flowed to him like water. Elizabeth appreciated that he was sensible with it. The first thing he’d done after asking her to marry him was set up a trust fund for each of the children. That was almost three years ago. Declan’s busy schedule meant postponing marriage, but neither of them felt the need to rush.

  While Declan was on tour, Elizabeth had overseen the building of an addition for her Kinlochbervie cottage. Originally a sanctuary for Elizabeth alone, the two-room dwelling, on the north westernmost tip of Scotland, now had a porch overlooking the sea, an added studio for Declan to compose and write songs, and a guest room where her best friend Effie and her wife would stay for Elizabeth’s upcoming wedding. She and Declan had offered the room first to Declan’s mother Joan, but Joan said she’d prefer the privacy of a hotel.

  Declan came back in the room, carrying Elizabeth’s coffee. He looked crestfallen.

  “What is it?” asked Elizabeth concerned.

  “I just checked my e-mail. Mom can’t make the wedding.”

  “Oh no,” exclaimed Elizabeth. “What happened?”

  “She’s got a bad ear infection,” said Declan. “The doctor said it’s out of the question for her to fly.”

  “Should we postpone it?”

  Declan shook his head. “She’s insisting we go ahead.”

  “Oh Declan. That’s terrible news. Poor Joan. What a blow for her.”

  Declan looked grim. Despite Joan’s assurance, Elizabeth knew she’d never forgive herself if they went ahead. She had to make Declan see sense.

  “It’s not too late to call it off,” she reassured him. “It’s not as if we’ve invited loads of people. A wedding without your mother wouldn’t be a proper wedding. Everyone will understand.”

  “You’re sure of this?” asked Declan.

  “As sure as I am that I love you,” said Elizabeth sipping her coffee. “We’ve already been together more than three years. What difference does a few more months make?” Elizabeth took his hand. “Let’s wait and do it properly.” Elizabeth would later regret her words.