The Fool Ch. 05

"Thanks," she said, and turned to look at him with a small smile on her lips that didn't show in the rest of her face. "This is different to what I expected," she admitted as he stared at her. "I mean, I didn't expect you to be living with your parents here. Are you sure that you want me to look over your parent's collection?" Carrie asked as she took the dress bag and hung it in the closet.

"Honestly, there's not much here," Sinclair admitted. "Like you, everyone believes this is Treasure Island. Probably because Dad always said that this was where his most valuable possessions were, but he was talking about Mum and us kids at the time," he chuckled. "Anyone coming here looking for treasure is pretty disappointed by the time they realise there is no fence or security system."

"Seriously?" She questioned, and stopped to look at him as she was placing her underwear into the empty drawer. She wasn't sure if she was disappointed or horrified by the lack of up to date information from their sources. She stuttered as she opened her mouth to ask about the Heart of the Heartless and realised that would be akin to signing her confession. It occurred to her that this was going to be another test for her, and she became irritated by the whole strange situation she found herself in.

"There are a few pieces here, but the real collections you've already seen. The better one's anyway," Sinclair said easily. "Except perhaps one."

"Oh," she sounded disappointed, even to herself. "We don't have time for a holiday just to hang out if we want to make the exhibition date you've set. I have a lot of work to do back at the museum to make it happen."

"It won't hurt to stop for a week or two, even God rested at some point," he lay on the bed as she continued to unpack. "I don't think I have ever seen you sit still for more than a minute. Even in London, you prowl around the house like a caged animal when you're at a loose end."

"Speaking of loose ends, what do we have planned for the rest of today since there is no collection for me to curate?" She asked, having unpacked most of her belongings while he watched on.

"I can think of a few options," Sinclair said, reaching out to grab her hand and pull her onto the bed beside him. "I've never had a girl in my room before," he chuckled. "Want to make out?" he pulled her into his arms.

"What is wrong with you today?" she pushed him away. "I don't even understand why you brought me here if there's no collection to curate!" her voice became high pitched with unacknowledged anxiety.

"You were the one who kept asking about Treasure Island," he said frowning at her. Sinclair moved quickly and pinned her to the bed as she tried to move away. He'd never seen her anxious or nervous about anything, and her strange silence followed by her outburst worried him.

"I'm sorry, I'm just tired. I didn't sleep well last night," she sighed, looking up at him, feeling his weight keeping her in place below him. "I just didn't realise that this was your family's home, and you never told me. I'm not sure I should be here," she admitted. "Even if our relationship wasn't based on professional needs, it's a bit too soon to be meeting the parents, don't you think?"

"We've been together for months now and lived together for half of that time. I've opened up my homes and my life to you. Meeting the parents is the next logical step," he teased with that knowing smirk. "The fact that they aren't even here at the moment must have slipped your mind, though," he bent his head to kiss her. "It's nice to know you missed me last night. I didn't sleep well either," he murmured, changing the topic back to his immediate need for her and nuzzled her neck.

Carrie closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of Sinclair's body against hers. As much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, she had missed him last night after spending every night with him over the last few months. This house and his relaxed mood just felt so odd in comparison to what she knew of him that she felt very uneasy in this place.

Taking him by surprise, she rolled them over so that she hovered above him momentarily before pulling out of his arms. "I been travelling for over twenty hours, I need a shower," she stepped back, moving out of his reach.

Sinclair looked at her curiously, she was usually just as eager for sex as he was, and her reticence, even after travel, seemed odd. He rose from the bed and stalked toward her. Carrie stood her ground, and he smirked as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. Despite their battles for dominance, he would never force her against her will, and she knew it.

"I like my idea better, but if you insist on freshening up, how about a swim?" he suggested. "Or spa, if you like. I expect you've brought a bikini, but it's not necessary, no one else is here at the moment."

"I think I'll go with the bikini anyway," she gave a half laugh and placed her hands on his chest, pushing lightly. "Unless the man down at the pier was a figment of my imagination."

"If you must," he sighed dramatically and let her go. "But Rennie is like a ghost; he only appears if he's needed."

*****

Carrie had spent an hour lazing by the pool and feeling more like herself. The disappointment of finding out there was no treasure here to curate, coupled with her lack of sleep and the long haul flight, had been responsible for her mood, she'd decided. Sinclair had made them drinks, and by the time the sun was setting she realised just how unreasonable she had been about the fact that he didn't own this house or island. His family weren't here, and she didn't have to deal with them, so she knew she had over-reacted to the information.

She watched Sinclair climb from the pool and shake the water from his hair. He was older than any man she had slept with before, except perhaps Diego, but it didn't show in his physique at all. He was toned rather than having bulging muscles, his broad shoulders and narrow waist gave him that perfect tapered shape that many men aspired to but could never achieve. He was, she realised, blessed with good genes, and didn't have to work hard to maintain his physical appearance.

"See something you like?" he asked with his perpetual smirk.

"Possibly, can you do a catwalk strut for me, maybe a few poses?" she grinned.

"Only if you agree to make lunch for us," he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Sure, I can make cereal," she teased. Cooking was not her forte, and he knew it. They always either had one of the caretakers cook for them or had eaten out in the past. Even at home in London Jordan was a constant presence, and she couldn't remember ever being truly alone with him before since he had moved out of his hotel in London to live with her and travel together.

"In that case," he strutted toward her with his hands on his hips and spun in front of her, shaking her ass before walking back to where he had been standing. "Now, about that lunch, I'm starving."

"Okay, lead me to your kitchen," she said, getting up and starting to wrap a short sarong around her hips. The pool and spa were on the first floor, and he wrapped an arm around her waist as they walked back into the great room and pulled the sarong away.

"You look great without it," he smirked, holding it out of her reach as she tried to snatch it back. "It's just the two of us here, you don't need it."

"Fine," Carrie grumbled. She felt her earlier misgivings about being here crowd her thoughts again as she walked into his mother's kitchen.

Sinclair furrowed his brow in confusion. He looked at her expression and the tightness of her lips for a second. He put his hand under her chin and brought her face up to kiss her. He pulled back, trying to read her expression, but she merely returned his gaze impassively. He bent down and kissed her again with a little more passion. This time, when he pulled back, he took a step back and looked at her, his eyes raking over her body.

"Tell me what's wrong," he said suddenly. "I can feel it. You're not you," he said.

"I told you I'm just exhausted from the long flight and a restless night before I left," she explained, taking a step toward him and placing a hand on his chest. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip and looked up at him in an effort to distract him. "You're the one who didn't come to bed last night, you should be exhausted too."

"I know what you're doing," Sinclair remarked. "I'd like to say that I am not so easily distracted, but I missed sleeping beside you last night." He grabbed her head and kissed her hungrily. She laced her fingers through his hair, and he slid his hand down to her breast, grabbing it forcefully. Carrie moaned softly into the deep kiss and ran her a hand from his chest down to his wet swim suit.

"I thought you were starving," Carrie teased, wrapping her hand around the bulge in the front of his shorts.

"I have more than one appetite that needs feeding, one more urgently than the other," he kissed her again and picked her up, carrying her to a daybed. Her bikini was dispensed with within seconds, and he stood removing his shorts.

"I think we should probably eat first," Carrie said prevaricating seeing his eagerness and need. He'd never force her if she seriously said no, and she had no intention of stopping, but neither was she about to give in so easily and become the meek submissive he would prefer at times like this.

"I don't think the food is a priority right now," he murmured, moving to the bed and pinning her arms above her head. Her strange mood made him want to connect with her again on a more physical level. Their battles during intimacy were where he always felt most connected to her. The chemistry they had was undeniable to either of them.

Holding her wrists in one hand, the other travelled down her body to her pussy, and he smirked at her. Her body, as always, betrayed her willingness, despite the resistance she put up. He had felt, as they grew closer, that resistance was becoming a token effort, at best, as they got to know each other's limits and kinks.

"You're just as hungry as I am," he teased, his finger rolled lightly over her clit. Sinclair leant down and kissed her passionately, moving his body over hers and pinning her beneath him. He bit her bottom lip lightly.

"It's too weird, this is your parents' house," Carrie admitted she wanted this as much as he did to herself if not him, and was finding it hard to form the words to put up any resistance while his hand continued to torment her. "They sit here and probably do exactly what you're trying to do!"

"Fuck," Sinclair groaned and looked her with distaste. The fact that she was right was beside the point, the thought of his parents being in this position on this daybed took the edge off his need. "That may be true, but you could say that about any of the houses we've been in recently," he growled and re-released her wrists, moving quickly to sit up and flip her onto her belly, placing a hand in the centre of her back to hold her in place.

Taken by surprise, Carrie took a moment to react to being flipped onto her belly and bucked back at him, feeling his hot hard body against her. His hand lashed out to spank her lightly, and she whimpered as he continued to admonish her. The bruises on her cheeks still livid and adding to the pain she felt.

"You better get used to it then, because we are here for two weeks, and I plan to fuck you in every corner of this house, starting with right here!" he lectured and pulled her hips up off the daybed, presenting her bruised ass to him. "You can pretend you don't like it or want it, but your body doesn't lie to me!" he growled, his hand cupping her sex and his fingers once again finding her clit to tease her.

"Are you just going to talk about it all day, or are you going to start fucking me?" she said in a belligerent tone, knowing this would only make him punish her more. That was fine with her, she got off on the battles and harsh words. She didn't want the soft loving partner most girls dreamed of; she wanted the pain and pleasure of hot, harsh animal-like fucking. This more relaxed softer side of Sinclair and the obvious love he held for his family disturbed her on a level she couldn't even comprehend, and all she wanted right now was to get him back to the man she knew would fuck her with the ferocity of a wild beast. No love, no soft emotions, just desire and needs to be met, despite the evidence of her injuries.

Presented with her colourful ass in this way, he didn't spank her again, but rather just ploughed straight into her, giving no warning or easing of the way, and she cooed in pleasure. He reached forward and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her back and making her arch her back almost painfully. He began to fuck her then, and she bucked back onto him. It was harsh, hard and painful, and Carrie revelled in every sensation he gave her. Her climax came swiftly, and she cried out into the cavernous room as the force of it hit her, surprising her with its intensity. She was barely aware of the fact that Sinclair had come with her until he released his grip on her and they collapsed down onto the bed together.

"I'll go get a bottle of wine for lunch," he said, leaning down to kiss her neck after a few minutes of silence punctuated by their heavy breathing. "Have a look at what's in the refrigerator, Mum always keeps it pretty well stocked, and she knew we were arriving today." He slowly ran his hand down over her back and let it trail over her still pink ass. Her reaction to the house and his disclosure that it was his family's home had been unexpected, and, though he was sure she was disappointed about the lack of a collection on show here, it seemed more than that had been the cause of her strange mood.

Carrie watched him walk away. As always, he was comfortable being naked, and he hadn't bothered to stop and grab his shorts. She sat up and stretched. She had needed that fuck and felt invigorated by it when she knew she should be shattered after the last day of travelling to get here. She stood and stretched again, then took her cue from him, left her bikini where it lay and went to the kitchen.

Carrie opened the refrigerator and stepped back to survey the contents. Sinclair had been right, his mother had been prepared for guests, and there seemed to be far more food in here than could ever be eaten by two people. It was as if they were about to host a large group of people, and she caught sight of several notes attached to a few of the items and leant in to look at them. She smiled as she read notes to Sinclair about what not to touch and what she had left especially for him to impress his girlfriend.

Carrie took the pre-prepared meal from the refrigerator and read the instructions for serving left by Sinclair's mother, Georgia. Instructions from a controlling mother she could deal with far better than the idea that he enjoyed spending time relaxing and just hanging out with his family, which still seemed like a foreign concept to her. Even on her death bed Robyn had been scheming and issuing orders and instructions to Carrie about their plans for the Fool. For her, fun loving nuclear families only ever existed in books and movies. People didn't have time in their busy lives to indulge in family activities just for the fun of it, there were always lessons to be learned and training to be done.

The Asian chicken noodle salad looked beautiful as she took the cling wrap from the large bowl and went about setting the table. Carrie couldn't even imagine where to look for Sinclair, so she went back to investigating the kitchen as she waited for him. It was as well-equipped as a chef's kitchen might be. She found the pantry spread over several waist high cupboards. It was unusual to have no full-sized cabinetry in the kitchen, but she realised it would have spoiled the open plan layout of the great room with the kitchen's central position. The chef could see every area within the space and interact with people in them all if there was a large gathering. The only distortion to the view was a range hood that hung down from the ceiling, but it wasn't low enough to obstruct the view completely, merely distort it if someone tall was on the other side.

To amuse herself, Carrie continued to scan the room looking for other distortions in the line of sight, imagining it would be a challenge to hide within the room from someone standing in this position. She was still surveying the room, lost in her mental game of hide and seek, when Sinclair stepped back into the kitchen area and placed several bottles of wine on the bench.

"Planning on getting me drunk and taking advantage of me tonight?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Drunk, not so much, taking advantage of you? Most definitely," he smirked.

"I guess we should eat then, or the wine will put me to sleep before you can try to take advantage of me," she laughed, emphasising the word try as she spoke.

"I enjoy a challenge," he said, following her to the table. "This doesn't look like cereal," he said, surprised by the big bowl of salad in the centre of the table for them to share. "Now I'm not sure if I've brought the right wine up from the cellar."

"White would be nice, a Sauvignon Blanc if you have it," she suggested.

"How about a nice crisp chardonnay?" he offered, and went back to the kitchen and retrieved one of the bottles of white from the refrigerator.

"Sure," she agreed with a smile and took a seat at the table. She waited for him to sit and pour the wine before speaking again. "You said your parents left this morning?" She asked.

"They did," he nodded. "Not long before we arrived, I believe, so that it might have been closer to lunch time." he admitted.

"She didn't give you any instructions before she left? I mean, she seems like a very organised woman," she said lightly.

"Why do you ask?" he frowned at her.

"I would wager that she did give you a list of instructions that you didn't bother listening to," Carrie slid the note about leaving the prepared food so he could impress his girlfriend across the table to him and laughed lightly as he read it. "I guess she assumed you wouldn't force me to wait on you hand and foot as soon as I arrived," she teased.

"It was a long list, and I zoned in and out of it a few times," he admitted. "And, as I remember it, you agreed to make lunch in return for a bit of eye candy," he chuckled, joking with her rather than being defensive about the note and her teasing about not listening to his mother. He noticed her expression change momentarily before she took a sip of the wine and tried to fathom what he had said that could have caused it.

"What's on the agenda for this afternoon?" she asked, changing the subject as he helped himself to the salad.

"I thought you might like to rest a little more, you still don't seem yourself," he said carefully. "Or I could give you the grand tour and fuck you in a few more corners of the house." He grinned widely. "I've never brought a girl home before, so I have years of pubescent fantasies to live out with you."

"I can't even imagine you as a pubescent teenager," she burst out laughing. "Are there photo's to prove such a thing existed?"

"Far too many, much to my horror," he joined her laughter, grateful that she seemed to be relaxing again.

*****

Carrie began to let her walls down over the next few days that they were on the island alone together. He'd shown her a small vault containing artefacts that his family treasured highly, none of which would be loaned to the museum for an exhibition. She'd tried to accept rather than resent that he'd had a very different upbringing to her own, despite their similar professional skills. She had been brought up working hard to prove she could be the best to a mother who was critical of any flaw in her performance and gave her no choices in her life or future career, whereas Sinclair chose his hobbies and interests and was indulged by parents who supported him and helped him to achieve his goals.