Bound Brits

A Total-e-bound Publication

www.total-e-bound.com

Bound Brits Anthology ISBN #978-1-906328-92-4 The Retreat ©Copyright Portia Da Costa 2008 S&M 101 ©Copyright Sierra Cartwright 2008 Getaway Girl ©Copyright Lisabet Sarai 2008 All Roads Lead to Ripon ©Copyright Barbara Huffert 2008 Kit & Mouse ©Copyright Dakota Rebel 2008 Bound By Love ©Copyright Cassidy Ryan 2008 Cover Art by Anne Cain ©Copyright December 2007 Edited by Claire Siemaszkiewicz & Michele Paulin Total-e-Bound Publishing This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-e-bound eBooks. Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-e-bound eBooks. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork Published in 2008 by Total-e-bound eBooks 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK. Warning: Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-Burning/Total-e-Melting.

BOUND BRITS ANTHOLOGY

The Retreat

Portia Da Costa

S&M 101

Sierra Cartwright

Getaway Girl Lisabet Sarai

All Roads Lead to Ripon Barbara Huffert

Kit and Mouse Dakota Rebel

Bound By Love Cassidy Ryan

THE RETREAT Portia Da Costa

Dedication With many thanks to Valerie, my wonderful critique partner.

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Chapter One

“Ooh!” “Are you all right, Sarah?” he asked, his voice soft and powerful in her ear. Was she all right? She supposed she must be, but in the space of an instant she just couldn’t stop shaking. Sarah’s heart fluttered and raced as she advanced into the spacious room. It was almost as if she’d just entered some kind of arena, before a huge crowd, with an ordeal ahead of her. Which was stupid, really, because this was the most luxurious and beautiful bedroom that she was ever likely to stay in. The Retreat was an exclusive country house hotel, a heritage listed building and five stars to boot, so it was about as far from a horrible ordeal as it was possible to get to stay here. But it wasn’t the original beams, the open fireplace, or even the huge bed with its brass head and foot rails and traditional English chintz bed linen that had caught her breath, and made her pulse race…it was a simple, almost inconsequential thing that had just happened in passing that had made her gasp. As they’d entered the room, Ben had tapped her oh so lightly on the bottom to encourage her forward. It should have been nothing. It was nothing. Just a harmless, affectionate gesture from a man she really, really, really liked, and possibly more than liked. Something that by rights she should barely even have noticed. But the tiny gesture, over so fleetingly, had almost pole-axed her. She was still trembling and she’d broken out into a sweat. It was as if the world had just changed, and she’d changed with it, irrevocably. “How do you like it then?” Ben’s hand settled on her waist as she stood looking around, not really seeing or appreciating the lovely room or the breath-catching view from the window, of the early evening sunset gilding the park outside. The porter was waiting just behind them, and she fought for composure, hoping he couldn’t tell she’d suddenly gone slightly mad, or work out why her face was suddenly bright pink and blushing furiously.

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Get a grip, woman! “It’s gorgeous…I really like it. I love the chintz and the furniture and the view…it’s all so…um…old English.” I’m babbling, she thought, trying to focus on the traditional furnishings and the gentle scent of cottage garden potpourri that filled the air. She turned, hardly daring to look at him. Had he felt the change too? It had been so huge it couldn’t just be restricted to her, surely? Ben was studying her, as he so often did. His warm brown eyes were mild, yet intent and full of secrets. If he’d sensed the turmoil inside her, he wasn’t giving any indication. But then, he was the sort of man who gave very little away at the best of times. He was so composed, so contained, always in control. “I’m glad you like it. I hoped you would. This is one of my favourite places in all the world.” Favouring her with a slight smile, he turned away to deal with the porter and their luggage. Don’t you feel anything? she demanded silently, watching and admiring and wanting him, as she always did. Ben Chambers was perfect. Dark, beautiful, intelligent, successful. A boyfriend…no, more than that…a lover to die for. His thick brown hair was swept back from a broad, handsome brow, and his perfectly trimmed, somehow old-fashioned little goatee beard only emphasised the strong line of his jaw and his firm, passionate lips. And he had style too, distinct and quirky. She loved that he possessed this aura of an elegant yet bohemian Edwardian gentleman. He was always immaculately dressed and she very rarely seemed to see him in casuals. He was either dapper in a good suit, a waistcoat, pristine linen and a crisply pressed tie…or he was naked. There didn’t seem to be an in between with him. She watched his hands as he peeled off a banknote to tip the porter, smiling and cheerful with the man, almost as if they were old friends. Maybe they were? Ben’s fingers were long, narrow and tapered, yet infinitely deft, like a magician’s. She knew their capabilities and her sex warmed and fluttered just thinking about them. He was fabulous in bed too. A little controlling, but that seemed to work a treat for her. She’d always liked men who took charge, and Ben seemed to do it so effortlessly, and more than most.

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In which case, their relationship should have been as perfect as Ben himself was. Especially as he was wonderful out of bed as well as in. He was an interesting, humorous man, and kind too. Very kind. When she’d been ill at work one day, he’d taken her home, put her to bed in a completely platonic way, and taken care of her, even though she knew his own workload was immense. They’d spent an afternoon together, laughing at old movies that had turned out to be mutual favourites and drinking cup after cup of tea, and eating biscuits. He’d made her well with his thoughtfulness and she knew he enjoyed her company. In many ways, she was more relaxed with him than with any man she’d ever been with, and shared more interests, more hopes and dreams… So why had it seemed, in the past couple of weeks, that there was some giant piece of missing in the jigsaw of their relationship? She couldn’t work it out…but still there was an absence, somehow, and no matter how she wracked her brain, she couldn’t work out what it was. At least she hadn’t until a few moments ago. And now her mind was struggling to catch up with something that her body had already registered. No! Surely not! Her head whirled as she snatched at ideas and notions. Feeling vaguely dizzy, she walked unsteadily to the bed and sat down on the thick, down-stuffed duvet to recover. By now, Ben had dealt smoothly with the porter, and judging by the sound of the man’s enthusiastic response, he’d tipped him well. The man smiled discreetly, nodding to Sarah as he backed away and then left, closing the door behind him. Sarah nodded back, but could think only of that little tap on the bottom that Ben had given her, barely more than a touch, yet so exciting that she’d been forced to gasp out loud. Is that it? Is that what’s missing? I…I don’t even know if I’d like anything like that. But even if her head didn’t, it was rapidly dawning on her that her body, and heart, did. Smiling, Ben slipped off his long, dark coat and whirled it over a chintz-upholstered armchair with a flourish. Then he came towards her, lean and elegant in his dark waistcoat and tailored trousers, the sober formality of his white shirt and dark tie perversely sexy. My lover. Every time she thought of him that way, it sent a little silvery frisson along her nerves, right to her sex. And it seemed particularly appropriate to call him that, here in this quietly

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hedonistic hideaway in the country, where the word ‘boyfriend’ seemed inconsequential, trivial. The exclusivity—and cost—of a stay here at The Retreat seemed to suggest a leap to a new level of their relationship. Oh how she hoped…oh how she hoped that were true. Especially when Ben came towards her, took her in his arms, and kissed her. His mouth was as teasing and tender as usual, but in the heart of the kiss there was that special quality. His power. Her eyes flew open as his tongue pushed between her lips, and she saw a bright, gleaming fire in his expression. A glitter, a fervour she’d never seen before. He’d felt it too. He had! He had! That little tap on the rump was no accident…not at all. It was all part of his carefully crafted plan. Her body was all a-riot. Her pussy clenched and fluttered spontaneously, excited in a way she’d never experienced before. She’d never been this hot, this fast. The pat on the bottom had been a catalyst, a swift, psychic jolt that had inexplicably changed things. Winding her arms around Ben’s strong back, she pressed forward against him, moving wantonly. When he responded, pressing back, and laying her down on the bed, so he could move half over her, she discovered he was hard. She could almost feel every cell in her body squeal, oh goody! Might they have sex straight away? It was still barely more than late afternoon, and they’d just driven down here from London, but were they going to go to bed immediately? But after a few moments more of deep kissing, and the mastery of his tongue, Ben put her from him. Then he sat up, adjusting the knot of his dark tie back to perfection. “I…um…” she stuttered, not quite able to ask if they were going to get undressed. His eyes were still shining, alight with an odd quality of amusement, and something almost arch that she’d never seen before. If she’d thought him controlling before, it was nothing compared to the dominion he seemed to hold over her now. He knows everything and I know nothing. He didn’t speak for a moment, but the impact of that thought gave her just as much a jolt as the pat on her bottom had. A sensation of weakening and floating, and a lightness in

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her head that was both confusing and as intoxicating as a hefty belt of brandy. Her sex rippled and pulsated like a beating heart. “I think you should freshen up after our journey, Sarah.” His voice was even, his gaze unwavering. “I think I’ll go for a walk in the grounds…to give you some time to yourself. I’ll be back in half an hour or so.” Sarah’s stomach dropped inside her and the sense of loss was a different kind of blow. But then she saw the glint in his eyes increase, and for just a second, he touched his tongue to the centre of his lower lip. It’s a game. He’s playing a game with me. She didn’t know quite what it was yet, but she was ready to play. Hell yes! “Of course…what a good idea. That’s very thoughtful of you, Ben.” Lifting her head, she held his gaze, taking it in, reaching for comprehension. A message seemed to pass between them, and the force of it made her lower her eyes again. Because, suddenly, she wanted to. Suddenly, she was in awe, total awe of this man. “Why not have a drink while I’m gone?” he suggested, crossing to the antique sideboard. A tray of bottles and fine-cut glasses stood there. Nothing so crass as a mini-bar at The Retreat, although there was what appeared to be a small refrigerator set into the cabinet. From it, Ben took a half bottle of champagne, and without asking her, he deftly uncorked it and poured some into a crystal flute for her. A moment later, he put it into her hand like a magic potion, an obscure erotic sacrament. He watched closely as she raised it to her lips, as if directing her every action, her every thought, even. The wonderful wine was delicious, the finest she’d ever tasted. But its effervescence was nothing to the inner commotion she felt on looking into Ben’s brown eyes. She couldn’t even speak to thank him, or bid farewell when he turned and went to the door. With his hand on the handle, he looked back at her, and winked at her so swiftly that she wasn’t sure whether she’d imagined it. She was still wondering when the door closed behind him, and he was gone, heading out for his constitutional. Shaking again, she sat down, gulping at the vintage champagne as if it were pop.

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She felt as if he’d confined her, and the crazy thing was, she liked it. She really did. There was a strange sense of being his captive, in a cell of some kind, even though the room was exquisite and had every luxury she could wish for. The Retreat was a rambling old country house, set in perfectly manicured grounds that landscaped down to a slowly rambling river. The essence of English aristocratic living, distilled for the visitor of just a few days. Sarah had never heard of the place until Ben had presented her with the fait accompli of a long weekend there for two. And even when she’d done an internet search, eager to see where they were going, nothing had come up. It was as if it was a secret hideaway, special and rare, just for the cognoscenti. There’d been an odd note in Ben’s voice when he’d spoken of it. Sort of knowing and mysterious, as if implying wonders. There was more wine in the bottle, and she topped up her glass before taking a wander around the room. She’d barely noticed the art on the wall when they’d entered, but now, on a closer look, she discovered it was eye-poppingly erotic. In eighteenth century engravings, lords and ladies frolicked and debauched in explicit combinations that left nothing to the imagination. And when Sarah saw a blushing and buxom wench, across the knee of nobleman in a powdered wig, she wished she had another bottle of champagne to cool and settle her. It was a spanking, and the delicate cross-hatching across the woman’s bottom showed she’d taken plenty of blows already. Oh God…oh God… Sarah shot to the window. It was open to the garden-scented air and she drew in a lungful to calm herself. Ben was nowhere in sight, but she still seemed to see him, striking out along one of the paths with his long, determined stride. Turning from the window, her eyes alit on a wickerwork box sitting on the low ottoman at the end of the bed. It looked like an old-fashioned picnic basket with leather fastenings and shiny brass fittings. Curious, she sat down beside it and opened it up. Her jaw dropped. She felt hot again. Her throat felt dry and yet everywhere else seemed to feel fluid and sexy. In keeping with the lewd artworks on the wall, and the general atmosphere of sophisticated decadence, the box was filled with a selection of explicitly erotic toys.

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Sarah wasn’t a prude, and she immediately recognised vibrators and dildos and what looked like nipple clamps, all sealed in cellophane, ‘for the hygiene and convenience of our guests’ it said on a hand-written note resting on top of the wicked cornucopia. She examined various items for a few minutes, without unwrapping them, not sure whether she wanted Ben to know she’d been perusing them or not. But just when she’d decided to take the plunge and take the wrappings off a vibrator, the chiming of a fine ormolu clock on the fireplace told her it was time she was in the bathroom, and getting ready. Ben would be back soon, and she wanted to be prepared…although for what, now, she wasn’t quite sure. The bathroom was decorated with the same old world opulence, and there were more risqué prints upon the walls. The overpowering sense of decadence, and sexual naughtiness made her tremble. She supposed it was something of a cliché to take a scented bath while waiting for her lover, but what was wrong with clichés when they were so delicious and the awaited lover as special as Ben Chambers. Lolling in the silky water, she still couldn’t really believe he’d picked her out, even though they got on so well. He was relatively new to the company, some kind of elite trouble-shooter brought in to turn around the division she worked in, and the moment she’d set eyes in him she’d recognised his quiet but mysterious authority. And she’d wanted him. And pretty soon she’d got him. Within days they’d been dating, and in bed shortly after. Yes, once again, she admitted that it should have been a perfect dream, but there was still, sometimes that faint niggle of something crucial missing. But she’d not really know what, until that pat on the bottom. Sipping the last of her champagne, she closed her eyes, emptied her brain and let the scent, the heat and the alcohol take over. Hazy visions formed in her mind. Strange fantasies that she’d often sunk into on the edge of sleep, that had haunted her since the days of her young womanhood. Pictures of herself, naked. Sometimes kneeling down. Sometimes tied up. Sometimes, oh God, being punished. By a man. She began to pant, imagining herself exposed, spread out, bared. Offered…for something.

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For punishment. By Ben.

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Chapter Two

She imagined his hands, so long and elegant. So strong. She knew he could make her whimper with pleasure…but could he also make her weep and moan with pain? Would he put her across his lap and spank her? Would he put her in bondage? There’d been a pair of handcuffs amongst the sexual paraphernalia in the box. Before she realised what was happening, she did moan. And putting aside her delicate glass, she reached down into the silky water to touch her sex. She was ready. Ready for Ben. But to do what? These were just fantasies. Wild, but kinky. Nothing real… Even so, she decided to masturbate. But just as she was about to, she heard the outer door to the bedroom open, then close. Oh God, he’s back…and I’m still in here dreaming and just about to play with myself! She didn’t call out, just in case it wasn’t him, but a maid, come to turn down the bed. She did rise from the bath, though, and quickly go about her preparations. The complimentary toiletries were exclusive and high-end, so just before she was done in the bathroom she dowsed her pulse points in a beautiful perfume she’d never normally be able to afford, then bundled herself into a fluffy, towelling bathrobe. Her clothes were outside. Where Ben was. Her heart thud-a-thudding, she opened the bathroom door. Ben was lying on the bed, fully clothed, and reading a magazine. He had a glass in his hand, containing an inch of amber fluid that she guessed was whisky, and as she entered, he put it to his lips and took a leisurely sip. His eyes were on her though, staring over the rim at her intently as he swallowed. He looked like a young god idly perusing his lowly subject. “I thought we’d take a late dinner,” he said casually, then took another sip of his drink, “Unless you’re hungry now?”

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Only for you. Only for you. “I…er…I’m fine. Thanks.” The answer sounded woefully incomplete, as if there should have been more. It was astonishing how easy it would have been to add the word “master”. “Good!” he said with a strangely satisfied smile, then he finished his whisky, set the glass aside, and sprang lightly to his feet. “I think I’ll freshen up. I won’t be a moment.” As he walked towards the bathroom, he paused and looked back pointedly at the magazine on the bed. He wants me to read it. Then, with another small, knowing smile, he disappeared, closing the door behind him with a decisive snick. For a moment, Sarah was frozen in place. Why was she afraid of a magazine? What was wrong with her? But the shiny pages seemed to reach out and taunt her from across the room. Still not looking at it, she grabbed Ben’s glass, sloshed a little more whisky into it, and gulped it down, making herself cough. Panicking, she refilled it with water and sipped a bit of that, slowly. She didn’t want to get tipsy mixing spirits with the champagne already in her. When she sat down, and started to flick the pages, she discovered that the magazine was exactly what she’d feared—hoped?—it might be. It was about bondage. And erotic corporal punishment. A high quality, beautifully produced publication, but a spanking magazine nevertheless. As she perused an image of an exotic dark-haired woman in a black corset being spanked across a stern looking man’s knee, the last piece of the jigsaw of her and Ben dropped neatly into place, and the tap on her rump made crystal clear sense. This is it. Exactly it. This is what he really likes. The sound of the bathroom door opening made her jump physically up into the air and sent the magazine slithering to the floor. Ben walked swiftly across, picked it up, and studied the same image that Sarah had been looking at for a moment. He’d removed his tie, she noticed, and unbuttoned his waistcoat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

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Her heart did a flip as he closed the magazine, set it on the bedside table, and sat down beside her. “I guess you know what I want now, don’t you?” His brown eyes were luminous, like the whisky with a brilliant light shining through it. Sarah’s tongue clove to the roof of her mouth, but after a moment, she managed to gasp, “Yes!” Ben’s eyes were unwavering upon her, searching, searching. “It’s your choice, Sarah…I don’t want us to do anything you don’t like. We can simply have a delightful weekend here…relax, walk, enjoy good food and wine—” he paused for a second, “—make love…Nothing more than that.” She found her voice again. “But this…” she gestured to the magazine. “This is what you want, isn’t it?” His shoulders lifted in the slightest of shrugs. “It is…it is…” The air in the room seemed heavy and difficult to draw in. But Sarah pulled in a lungful of it, straightened her spine, looked at him as bravely as she could. “Then I want it too.” “Are you sure? It isn’t a frivolous game to me…I take this quite seriously. You need to know that before we start.” Sarah’s heart leapt, galloped. But part of her was more sure of herself than ever before in her life. “It’s serious to me too. I want it. Now.” Again. A long look. “Very well, Sarah.” Relaxed, he steepled his long elegant fingers in his lap, and cocked his head on one side, his smooth brown hair gleaming in the lamp light. “Stand up, please, and take off your robe. Then place your hands on your head, and turn slowly, showing yourself to me.” Obeying him, Sarah felt as if she were floating, insubstantial, like a feather. As she shucked off the soft robe, she felt more naked than she ever previously had with him. More exposed than the times when he’d crouched between her thighs, licking her sex. She was astonished that the warm air on her skin felt like a caress and the uncovered state of her body a slow, lascivious exploration. Her nipples had puckered to a state of

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hardness so intense it was painful, and to her embarrassment, as she moved, slowly turning, a sticky trickle of arousal welled from her pussy and flowed down the inside of her thigh. Unbelievably, Ben’s dark brows lifted as she completed her circle, and he was watching the oozing progress of the sexual fluid down her leg. “You’re eager, aren’t you?” he observed softly, “You’re wanton and wilful…easy to rouse.” She opened her mouth to admit it and he made swift, little chopping motion. “No, you mustn’t speak. You must be still and quiet now. Obedient. Without ego.” Before she could react in any way, he cupped her breast, his fingers firm, authoritative. He gave her a swift, assessing squeeze, first one, then the other, as if he were judging the flesh of a fine horse or other prized animal. A second later, his hand went between her legs and gripped her just as possessively. A gasp escaped her lips, and Ben gave her a tiny warning nod, his lids lowering slightly as he tightened his hold on her sex. Lifting his hand upwards, he made her rise on her toes. Not to avoid the delicious pressure, but to try and ameliorate her uncontrollable reaction to it. In the space of a few moments, she was almost ready to come. And he hadn’t even begun what he intended to do to her. But he was gently merciless. Beyond her conscious control, her body began to gather itself, and as if sensing her imminent crisis, he softly murmured, “Tut-tut. Pain first…then pleasure.” Sarah’s insides fluttered. Not just her sex, but in her heart, her chest. She felt as if she was on a precipice above some great, secret valley. Ready to fling herself forward. When Ben released her sex, it was as much of a shock as if he’d touched her clit, or even begun the spanking. The lack of his fingers against her was like a gouging void that she’d do anything to fill. “Lie across the bed,” he said quietly, “Face down, with your hands stretched out in front of you…You may look in my direction, or away…that’s your choice.” Almost unable to move properly from excitement, she obeyed him. Her limbs seemed to be made of rubber and uncontrollable, but she managed to assume the pose he’d specified. She was afraid to look at him, so turned her face away, even though in her mind she could still see him perfectly.

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“Good. That’s very good. You’re doing well.” Am I? I don’t think so…I’m all over the place. She felt the mattress dip and imagined Ben inclining towards her, his weight on one hand, while with the other he reached out towards her exposed bottom. Expecting a spank, and braced for it, she gasped when the first touch was light and exploratory. It won’t be so bad. It’s my first time. I bet he barely does anything at all. And indeed, the second touch was nothing at all. Just a tap on her left buttock, barely more than the light touch that had started all this, close to an hour ago, yet in another lifetime. Then…more taps. A little harder. Definitely making an impact, but still fine. I’m okay. I can take this. It’s all right. In fact, it was more than all right. Her sex was glowing, becoming soft and pouched and wetter than ever. The slight impact of the little smacks was gently knocking her clit where she was pressed against the mattress. “Oh!” How had that happened? One minute, soft taps, and then, suddenly, with no discernable increase in effort, the taps weren’t taps any more but full-blown spanks. And they were hard. They hurt. They really hurt. “Oh!” she cried again, when Ben’s hand seemed to catch a particularly tender spot on the under-hang of her cheek. Her whole bottom was glowing now, drenched in heat. It was uncomfortable, unsettling, quite painful, and yet the shivering warmth in her flesh was sinking down into her sex and firing it up in a way she’d never yet experienced. Her whole pussy seemed to be fizzing like the champagne had done. Effervescing with a delicious yet forbidden pleasure. How? Oh, how is this happening? He’s hurting me, yet…yet… Oh God, I want him to hurt me more! To her astonishment, Sarah realised she was lifting her bottom in syncopation with the slaps, raising the target up to improve Ben’s aim, and to invite and seduce more blows. Her clit was swollen, simmering on the edge of orgasm, and every time he hit her, he pushed her ever closer to the longed-for implosion of pleasure.

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She cried out like a baby when he stopped, and she turned her face, to implore him with her eyes. To beg him to grant her more pain, more pleasure…oh, dear Lord, she hardly knew the difference. Ben’s eyes were beautiful, wise, and kind. Despite the fact that he was denying her what she wanted. But he seemed to understand, as he leant forward to press a kiss to her tearful cheek and whisper in her ear. “You’re doing beautifully, Sarah my love…Better than I could ever have wished. But you must wait a little for your prize. The waiting will make it all the more sweeter.” Even though she was sobbing with need, with frustration, and from the now extreme soreness in her bottom-flesh, she believed him. She believed him utterly. He was Ben. He knew all. He was her sweet master. Sliding a hand beneath her, he grasped her nipple between his finger and thumb, and delicately tweaked it while with his other hand, he ran the tips of his fingers over her reddened skin, making her hiss through her teeth. Oh, you’re a devil…and you’re an angel… Oh God, I love you. And it was true. He was inflicting torments on her, plying her flesh for his entertainment, his arousal…and yet, no man until now had ever even got near to sensing that this was what she wanted and what she needed to complete her. She’d had no idea herself. Only faint intimations that she’d dismissed as dirty fantasies that just ‘weren’t right’. It had taken quiet, mysterious Ben Chambers to look right into her hidden psyche and see the real Sarah. The little pinches to her nipple were beautifully orchestrated, timed exactly to counterpoint the slow drag of his nails over her simmering bottom. Sarah couldn’t keep still, though she knew he wanted her to. But she sensed his patience, and his pleasure in her progress, and some cool sane part of her vowed she would do better next time, to make him proud of her. As it was now though, she was right on the brink of madness…and orgasm. Her heart whirling, and her bottom and her clit on fire, she listened almost from a distance to the sound of her own mewing and moaning. Observed from somewhere near the elegantly moulded ceiling, her own body writhing and squirming around on the beautiful chintz quilt as Ben dealt with her.

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“Are you ready now, my dearest?” His voice was like milk and honey in her ear. Sweet and calm, yet under-shot with a silvery thread of excitement that made her heart sing. She nodded, against the quilt, gazing up into his brown eyes as he drew back and looked down on her. “It will hurt…quite a bit…but there’ll be pleasure too. Great pleasure…I promise you.” And with that, he slid his hand under her belly, flat against it, palm upwards, and found her clit with his long flexible forefinger. A second later, he pressed, and pressed hard, and at the same time loosed the hardest slap ever against her bare and tenderised buttocks. “Agh!” Sarah’s cry was high and clear and ringing as a bell. Just like the orgasm that accompanied it. So perfect, so pure, so fiery, stirred to a shining peak of intensity by the inferno in her bottom. Her legs kicked wildly, she shook her head, and she ground herself down hard onto the pad of his fingertip. Her orgasm flared again, rising to another level that filled her mind with white light and her body with utter joy. Seconds, or perhaps hours, or even millennia later, she collapsed, as limp as a kitten, aware of Ben’s hands still upon her—between her legs and on her reddened bottom—but very little else. Yet within moments, her awareness came flooding back, bringing with it the soft, murmuring sound of her lover’s voice. He praised her. He soothed her. He whispered the most enchanting nothings. And finally said, “I’d like to make love to you now…in fact I think I need to.” Blinking, she rolled a little to one side, flinching at the tingling in her bottom, and looked up into his eyes. Which were astonishing. Almost black with desire and scorching emotion. He was proud of her. He did admire her. But their intensity said he felt much, much more. It was frightening, but she wanted to sing and kiss him senseless all the same. Instead she said, “Yes! Oh yes! Please do!” although the honeyed lethargy in her body meant she could barely move.

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Ben smiled, obviously aware of the state her spanking had left her in. He leant over, kissed her almost chastely on the brow, then reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a foil wrapped condom. Oh, how she would have loved to help him put it on himself, but she seemed to have not one calorie of energy left in her body. She only watched as he unfastened his beautifully tailored trousers and reached into his linen and drew out his penis. Oh my! Oh my! He was marvellous. He seemed bigger. He was ferociously erect. She’d never seen a more delicious, appealing sight. With a slightly desperate efficiency, he rolled on the contraceptive, then took Sarah by her shoulders and pressed her flat onto her back. She was dimly aware of her abused bottom protesting, but as every other part of her was cheering and delirious with hunger for him, she ignored it. And sighed with delight when, with no further ado, and because there was no mistaking the fact she was completely ready for him, he moved over her and pushed his glorious cock inside her. It was like the first time with him, over again, but so completely different they might as well have been performing a different intimate act altogether. Her senses were magnified to the n’th degree, her perception of his body and the way it moved, infinitely more vivid. The cock that thrust inside her was the same one as ever, but it touched her more sweetly, more poignantly, more powerfully. Her head felt as if it were filled with Ben’s delicious cologne, and the slight but sharp odour of his fresh, sexual sweat. She couldn’t have said which was the most intoxicating, but they both made her hunger and her rapture swirl and spiral. His mouth moved over her face, her neck, her hair, the kisses as delicate and reverent as the thunder of his long, hard, fucking strokes was wild and animal. He was raw, yet sophisticated. A mysterious conundrum that she seemed to have known, in her bones, from the dawn of time. Holding him, grabbing at his back and buttocks as she soared yet again towards climax, she bent her knees, tilted her hips, drawing him in deeper and deeper. Every movement was unconscious, purely instinctive, yet right. As he plunged in, Ben groaned loudly, his breath a zephyr against her throat. He grabbed her to him, his fingers blindly cruel against the

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soreness of her buttocks as he lifted her, yet the very pain-spikes only increased the gathering pleasure. At last, Sarah could take no more. With a great cry, she surrendered to the dazzling sweetness, the searing orgasm. Her limbs flailed, her core pulsated, her heart thudded, contracted, turned over, full of love. From a great distance she heard Ben’s own shout of completion, and felt the thump, thump, thump of his last frenzied strokes. This was what I was waiting for…the thing that was missing… Sweet and clear the thought formed in her mind, some time later, as she lay in a haze beneath the still-clothed and still heavily breathing body of the man she knew she loved. Eventually, Ben lifted himself clear of her and looked down into her eyes. His were luminous, shining, full of happiness, a mirror, she suspected of her own. Neither of them spoke. Ben disposed of the condom and zipped himself up with quiet dignity, then draped a soft throw across Sarah’s naked body. Then he sat a moment beside her, just gazing at her fondly for a while. He held her hand, lifted it to his lips, and slowly kissed it. “We should get ready for dinner,” he said presently, his finely modelled lips curving into a smile, “I wonder…would you like to bathe again? I don’t know about you, but I’ve worked up quite a sweat, making love.” Sarah laughed. “Oh yes… Definitely… I need a shower…a bath…something.” “I’ll run it for you. Rest a while.” Dropping a kiss on her forehead, he rose and left for the bathroom. The room seemed empty without him, and few moments later when he returned, her heart warmed again.

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Chapter Three

They prepared for dinner like an old married couple, comfortably sharing the space of the room, walking to and fro, selecting clothes, bathing and dressing. Ben’s eyes flared with heat at the sight of the dress Sarah had chosen. The Retreat was formal, and she’d relished the chance to buy a couple of new gala evening dresses. The long, slim black velvet shift clung subtly to her body, skimming over her curves, caressing her breasts and particularly her bottom. As she admired her reflection, and saw, in the glass, Ben doing the same, she wondered if the choice of dress was prescient. Displaying the shape of her buttocks to advantage had suddenly acquired a deep significance. She wasn’t sore any more, just sensitised. Aware. “You look very beautiful…” Ben’s voice was low, intense. His eyes flickered from her face, to her breasts, and to her bottom. Where they lingered. You don’t look so bad yourself, she wanted to say. In fact, in her eyes, he looked beautiful too. His evening jacket was the epitome of elegance, long, dark and vintage. At his throat, he wore an Edwardian cravat and a high collar. He looked dramatic, mysterious, male…heartbreakingly wonderful. “I have something for you.” He advanced, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small leather covered box. Jewellery. She hadn’t expected jewellery. Her heart fluttered. Ben flipped open the box and Sarah gasped. It was a pendant, simple but breathtaking. A softly gleaming cultured pearl on a delicate gold chain. Understated, rare, hypnotic—just like the man who offered it to her. “I-I wasn’t expecting a gift…this weekend is so perfect as it is…I don’t know what to say…” The exquisite silky jewel almost seemed to throb on its bed of blue velvet. She daren’t reach out for it. She wasn’t sure if she deserved it.

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“You don’t have to say anything. You just have to wear it,” Ben said quietly, taking the pearl from its box and walking around behind her. Quickly, and in the deft, efficient way he did everything, he fastened it around her throat, then returned to face her again, reaching out to position the pendant to his exact liking, nestled in the deep V of her neckline, between her breasts. “This is the least I could give you…the very least. This is nothing compared to the gift you gave me a little while ago.” He reached out again, adjusting the set of the gem, his neatly manicured nails brushing the bare skin of one breast. “What gift?” What was he talking about? What had she given him? As if he’d heard her thought, he said, “Perfect submission, my beloved. The gift of your body, to do with as I wanted…Allowing me to spank you and hurt you. That’s something very precious that many women won’t agree to.” But I enjoyed it! I really did! she wanted to say. The words wouldn’t come out though, she was so dumbstruck by the pearl, the word “beloved” and by him. Instead she just smiled and murmured, “thank you,” and reached over to give him a kiss on the cheek, her lips brushing the edge of his immaculately barbered beard. This he seemed to understand and accept, and he gave her a strange little smile, then said, “Let’s go down to dinner, eh?” Descending the hotel’s grand staircase, and entering the dining room, Sarah felt like a princess. Both in her own right, and as the companion of the handsome and distinguished man at her side. Ben had all the presence and confidence of a crown prince, and The Retreat had somehow become his principality. Women stared at him in blatant, slack-jawed hunger, and Sarah couldn’t blame them. His charisma outshone that of every other man in the room. And it wasn’t just Ben. She felt transformed herself. From a moderately pretty young woman into a gorgeous goddess of sex and decadence. The faint glow in her bottom had found a way to transmute itself into a more all-pervading radiance. She felt truly beautiful, and completely and irresistibly desirable, for the first time in her life. And the men were goggling at her just as avidly and with just as much famished covetousness as the women were staring at Ben.

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You can look, but you’ll never get to touch, she told them, her head held high and her hips swaying as she walked. Only he gets to touch. Only he can stroke my breasts or fondle my pussy…or lay his hands on the curves of my bottom. They were shown to a prime table by the window, looking out onto The Retreat’s handsome park, and the sky which was full of drama, streaked with gold and midnight blue. The setting, the atmosphere, the man, could not have been more romantic. Or more sensual. The food they were served was delightful, but it was Ben that Sarah truly hungered for. She watched his long, clever hands as he ate, and imagined them on her. Wreaking havoc with both spanks of pain and strokes of sensual bliss. He was so astonishing and so different to any of the other men that she’d ever known that she wanted to fall down on her knees, crawl between his, and give him oral pleasure, right here in the dining room. He was a god to her. He was worth it. She loved him. They enjoyed their dinner, they chatted and they laughed. In fact, even though she was so besotted with her companion that she could barely see straight, it suddenly dawned on her that even though they weren’t fucking or playing spanking games, they were still having the best possible time. Ben was funny. He was knowledgeable on many topics, but modest in the way he spoke of them. He listened too, drawing words and experiences out of her, his dark eyes intent with an interest that was shiningly genuine. He’s the one. The words were simple but true. He was the man she’d been waiting for, and all of a sudden, she was desperate to give him all the gifts he deserved. In her mind’s eye she saw herself draped over the table between them, across its pristine napery, while he lifted the skirt of her black dress and exposed her bottom. Because the gown fit closely, and plunged too low to permit a bra, she’d decided to give knickers a miss too. He’d be able to touch her immediately, and spank her. Hard. She had a feeling he might enjoy putting on quite a performance for the sexually sophisticated patrons of The Retreat. Snapping back to reality, she found Ben’s brown eyes upon her, and full of fire. Could he read her mind? It seemed increasingly that he could. He was looking at her as if he was fully ready to do exactly the things she’d been imagining. So, it was no surprise when he softly asked, “Are you wearing panties, Sarah?”

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“N-no…no, I’m not.” His mouth curved into a joyous smile, and he rolled his eyes. “Oh, you’ve done it now…I won’t be able to stop thinking about what’s under your beautiful dress.” He tapped the table lightly with his fingertips, and then reached for his wine glass and took a minute sip. “And imagining your pussy and your sumptuous bottom bare beneath the velvet. Oh, God, how I’d love to spank you again now!” For a man so controlled, he was almost incendiary. His eyes flashed and there was a touch of hot pink high on his cheekbones. Normally almost preternaturally still, he shifted slightly in his seat and Sarah realised he was adjusting his position to ease his erection. It was a good job his stylish Edwardian coat was fairly long. “I’d

love

to

tease

and

taunt

you

until

you

were

half

out

of

your

mind…pleasure…pain…pain…pleasure.” He reached out and took her hand. “Did you see that box of sex toys back in our room?” She nodded, her entire body shaking. “I wish I had them here now…I’d like to peel down the front of your dress and play with your nipples, then adorn them with little silver clamps…” Beneath the velvet, the little crests he spoke of hardened agonisingly. “And between your legs…oh, between your legs…I’d like to fill you up…plug your pussy and your bottom with dildos, spank you really, really hard, then bring you off mercilessly with a vibrator.” I’m going to faint. I’m going to faint. He was outrageous, and what he described was beyond her experience, way beyond it. But dear God, she wanted it, suddenly, every bit of it. She wanted to be his toy, flesh to be played with and tested, for his pleasure. “Does my talk excite you…or horrify you?” His eyes were intent, and very serious for a moment, and she found it difficult to answer their challenge. She was excited, very much so, but also quite scared and nervous, astonished by her own reaction as much as anything. “I’m excited…I think…it’s all so new to me.” It’d come out, without conscious thought, the truth. His fingers smoothed over the back of her hand, and he looked at her more quizzically, his head tilted. The glittering light in the dining room made his hair shine like mahogany. “Would you like to learn more? Do you dare to?”

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She could say “no”, she knew that. She could play safe, and she knew he’d be kind and courteous and show no disappointment. He was that kind of man. But inside she was a seething volcano of desire and need and confusion, and she could only be settled by knowledge, and experience, and the touch of this wonderful lover. “Yes! Yes, I do!” Ben glanced over the table, and the remains of their meal and the wine they’d barely drunk. “Are you still hungry?” “Not for any of this.” She inclined her head, matching his look, then reached beneath the table, plucked the napkin from her lap and then dropped it on her side plate. “Good girl!” Ben’s smile was beatific as he helped her from her seat and led her away across the dining room. All eyes were on them again, as if the assembled diners, anticipating pleasures of their own, were fully aware of what was ahead of her. They went up in the small, slightly antiquated lift this time, and the moment the doors closed on them, Ben was upon her. He backed her tightly up against the mirrored wall of the cab and began to kiss her, hard, his tongue pushing into her mouth, while his hands plucked at her skirt, raising it up. Totally intoxicated, Sarah wondered vaguely whether there was a CCTV camera, but she was beyond really caring. Especially when Ben’s hand went unerringly between her legs, and he began to stroke her clitoris in time to the thrusts of his tongue. By the time they reached the second floor, she was already teetering on the edge of orgasm, and he waited until the last micro-second before the doors slid open to let her skirt drop and stop kissing her senseless. As it was, a couple waiting for the lift gave them a long, knowing look as Ben led her out onto the landing, murmuring, “Good evening.” And it was hardly surprising, she realised, knowing she must appear all flustered and dishevelled and that her cheeks were no doubt pink with confused desire. She wasn’t sure how she got to the room without stumbling, except that she knew that if she had have faltered, Ben would probably have swept her up into his arms and carried her. His lean strength made him more than capable of doing so. Eventually though, they were behind closed doors. Alone. With the box of sex toys and Ben’s imagination. Not to mention hers…

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Immediately, he kissed her again, even harder if that were possible. And all the time his hands roamed her body, exploring and squeezing through the velvet of her dress. With his tongue subduing hers, he eased the neckline of her dress down and bared one breast, then vigorously kneaded the soft orb while he conquered her mouth. Sarah moaned and whimpered in her throat. She was beyond all previous limits of arousal and excitement. Scared of her own rampaging hunger and of the delicious erotic torments that lay ahead. Between her legs her pussy was beating like a heart. “You’re sublime,” Ben proclaimed, abandoning her lips and tracking his mouth down over her face, her neck, her shoulder and down to her exposed breast. Then he sucked intensely on her nipple, flicking it with his tongue at the same time, and the shock and sensation of it almost made her come. She let out a sharp cry when just as suddenly as he’d besieged her breast, he let her go again and took a step away from her, creating distance. Slipping his hands into his pockets, he softly commanded, “Take off your dress.” Trembling like a willow, she made to step out of her high heels, but he stopped her. “Oh no, keep the shoes on…I think you’ll look delicious in high heels and your pendant and nothing else.” Unzipping the frock, Sarah peeled it off and draped it over a chair, acutely conscious of the heightened state of her nakedness. Her nipples were hard as stones and dark, oh so dark, and her upper thighs were already shiny with the flow of her juices. She could feel her sweat too, gathering in the creases below her buttocks and in her armpits. When Ben issued no further commands she just stood there. Nude. Shaking. Aroused. Waiting. He walked around her, in a circle, perusing her all. “Exquisite…” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, then, when he was behind her, he drew something that jingled out of the pocket of his coat. A second later, he reached for one of her hands, then the other, and like a magician, shackled them together in the pair of handcuffs she’d seen earlier in the box. A jolt of pure, clear, terrified excitement pelted through Sarah’s body, bouncing and rebounding off her every erogenous zone. He could do anything to her now, absolutely anything, and the idea of that made her arousal thicken and seep even more. But then, while she was still reeling, he pulled a second item from his pocket.

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And the impression of an illusionist was compounded even further when a black silk scarf appeared to unravel and unravel and unravel as if it were part of a trick. He held it by two corners as if she were the audience and he was showing it to her, then rolled it up and secured it around her head, covering her eyes. In total blackness she moaned, and not solely from desire. The reality of this game was so much more intense than any fantasy of it. Again he circled around her, but this time she could only tell where he was from the faint sound of his steps on the thick carpet. What was he looking at? What was he planning? What was he going to do to her? She thought of some of the items she’d seen in the wickerwork toy box and her head went light. And then she felt his breath on the back of her neck. Oh God, she’d lost track of him, and somehow not even sensed he was so close. How could that be, when everything about him obsessed her? His fingertips settled on her flank as his lips touched the side of her throat. His hand brushed the side of hers where it was caught at the small of her back, then cruised on down to cup her buttock and squeeze it, assessing its weight much as he’d assessed her breast a minute or two ago. He held her lightly, just under her chin, rubbing his bearded face in her hair while the tips of his fingers explored the rounds of her bottom, then slipped into the soft cleft between them. He tickled and probed, toying with the sensitive rosette of her anus again and again. Sarah felt as if she was going to faint with lust, astonished lust, because she’d never really enjoyed this kind of play before. With a lesser man she’d be troubled by it, but with Ben, she embraced it and relished it, pushing her bottom towards the source of the stimulation. “Do you like that?” Already blushing, Sarah felt hot blood well in her face again. To admit that…that she liked it, oh, it was so embarrassing, even with him, the man she had really come to believe she could tell anything. “Do you like it?” he persisted, not crossly but in infinitely teasing tones. He was so in tune with her, he clearly knew what such an admission would cost her, especially when he rubbed more firmly, pushing wickedly against the little entrance. “Yes…”

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“Tell me then…say the words…” Sarah whimpered in the darkness as he plagued her, flicking and teasing. He was the devil, yet at the same time a prince of love. “I l-like it when you touch my bottom and stroke me there…” “There?” “Oh Ben, I can’t!” He laughed, highly amused, but somehow also kind. “Very well, my love…we’ll take that as read, shall we?” He paused, his fingertip resting right on the aperture. “But I think we should do something about that, before I spank you, don’t you?” Do what? Do what? Her mind ranged over his threats, his promises at the dining table and she mewed with fear and longing. Ben seemed to take that as read because before she could form a coherent observation on the matter, he gently manhandled her until she was face down on the coverlet, her bound hands resting at the small of her back. A few moments later, after some further rustling in the fearfully stocked toy box, he returned to where she lay and sat down beside her, placing the flat of his hand lightly on her thigh. “Now this may feel a little strange to you, my darling, but you mustn’t panic. Just stay calm, and relax, and you’ll enjoy it more than you can possibly imagine.” Sarah could imagine quite a lot, and she wasn’t completely convinced that what she was more or less certain lay ahead was actually enjoyable. And how do you know? Have you tried it yourself? The image flashed immediately into her mind, and she moaned aloud again at the way it made her sex flutter. “Now…now… Don’t fuss,” instructed Ben, his voice almost merry somehow. And well he might be amused, thought Sarah a moment later, suppressing her groans as he began to slather the groove of her bottom with something cool and wet and very silky. A lubricant gel of some kind that he administered abundantly to her anal furrow. Then it began, the slow, infernal pressure upon her fundament as he pushed what she could only assume was one of the dildos or sex-plugs inside her. It felt huge. Unforgiving. Unyielding. Her body resisted it, and Ben paused to apply more lubricant. Much more lubricant.

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She keened and groaned, but he soothed her with his soft voice, murmuring sweet nothings, wordless encouragements, as if she were a naughty child being coaxed into taking her medicine. And yet despite the shattering, dangerous sensations, her arousal began to rise and rise and rise, all wound around the ancient and mortifying subconscious guilt that she shouldn’t be enjoying anything to do with that part of her body. The little aperture was stubborn, but in a different strategy, Ben reached around under her and began to play with her clit as he pushed firmly on the plug. “Oh no, no, no…” she moaned as her sphincter yielded and it slid inside. If the sensations had been mortifying and perilous before, they were a thousand times worse now, dreadful messages streaking along her nerves, telling her brain the most awful things. But even as they did, Ben intensified the gentle teasing strokes against her clit, and almost before she knew it the messages changed, melted and flowered and she cried out loudly in a light and sudden orgasm. Sarah writhed against the coverlet, squishing Ben’s caressing hand beneath her. She couldn’t believe that she was climaxing, and most of all it was mainly because her bottom was stuffed and plugged. “Oh please…oh please…” she crooned, not really having any idea what she was asking for. Did she want him to remove the plug? No… Did she want him to masturbate her even more? Yes, certainly…sort of. Did she want something else? Her mind skittered away from the options, even while it presented them. And one, she could barely conceive how she was going to endure it, or why she wanted it. “You must pay for that, my dearest,” whispered Ben, leaning over her back, and Sarah sobbed, knowing he comprehended her utterly. “Do you understand?” She made a sound, some kind of affirmation, although she wasn’t sure it was anything that had ever been part of the English language. “You are magnificent,” he answered, his voice strangely rough, then he stepped away and there was silence for a moment.

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What are you doing? What are you doing? He was looking for something, casting around. Then, with a small sound of satisfaction, he found it, obviously. “Be brave. Be strong.” She wasn’t sure she could be either, but she could endure, for his pleasure, and in a dark and twisted way, her own. Then he smacked her bottom again, and she shrieked, both in pain and surprise. Her mind went blank, white and numbed. Then after a gap of a few seconds, it started working, processing the fiery pain in her right buttock and trying to work out what had created it. She got no further than that before he struck her other bottom cheek. And she shrieked again, this time attempting to muffle the weak and pathetic sounds in the bed covers. “It’s all right to cry out, my darling,” he said, placing his hand flat on one of the hot places for a moment and stirring it, stirring it. Sarah made an incoherent kitten-like sound and ground her crotch against the mattress seeking ease for her astonishing and impossible arousal. Her bottom was flaming and yet her pussy ached for contact. He smacked her more and more, settling into a slow, lazy rhythm. The impact of the blows was unimaginable, and yet somehow bizarrely soothing despite the growing craving in her sex. And in a peculiar moment of clarity, it dawned on her what the wicked device was. He was spanking her with his leather-soled bedroom slipper. One of the ones she’d seen lined up neatly by the bed. “Oh please…oh please…” she began to plead again, against all reason begging for more of his disciplinary attentions as much as she was begging for ease of the burning itch of her desire. As she moaned, he finally set aside his slipper. “What do you want, Sarah?” he asked again, his breath gratifyingly coming in gasps. He was affected by her, as moved and roused and stirred as she was, in his own way. Despite her pain she smiled, anticipating her victory and his loss of control. “I want you to fuck me!” she growled at him, writhing again, sinuous against the bedspread, taunting him with her rosy, fiery bottom.

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“Where?” he demanded hoarsely, then pressed his fingertips to the base of the fat plug in her bottom. “Here?” “Yes! Oh god!” she gasped as he rocked the wicked thing. “Anywhere! Wherever you want! Just do it!” “Very well…very well…” he panted, unhanding her for a moment. She could hear rustlings, small preparations, his breathing. Then, shockingly, he pulled out the plug. Her insides rioted a little, but he soothed her with more gentle fondling of her clit. Within seconds she was moaning for a different reason, almost coming. When she was starting to rise again, he slathered her backside once more with the silky lubricant. Lots of it. Then, after a moment’s more rustling, and the slick sounds of a condom being rolled on, he was at her rear entrance, pushing, pushing, as he’d done originally with the inert rubber intruder. This time it was easier. This time the yielding was sweeter than sweet. After a moment’s effort, he was lodged inside her bottom, draped over her back, murmuring love into her ear. His thrusts were measured, and shallow, yet the pleasure was deep, achingly deep. Within seconds she was moaning again, whining like an animal, lost in a perverse and delicious ecstasy like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Soaring higher, she shrieked and writhed when he touched her clit. Her orgasm triggered him. Everything was crazy. Ben was as mad and wild and lost to the world as she was. The only sane thing were the words he groaned and gasped. “I love you…I love you…my darling, I love you.” She answered him the same, because it was true.

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Chapter Four

A long while later, they lay in each others arms, in the bed now. Slippers, sex toys, lubricants, handcuffs and blindfolds were all abandoned now. Not forgotten, but set aside in favour of the simplicity of freshly bathed bodies, cuddled close and fond and happy in the low, gilded lamplight. Is this heaven? It certainly feels as if it might be. Sarah breathed in, loving the fresh yet spicy smell of Ben’s cologne and feel of his warm, clean skin where he was lying against her back, spooned along the length of her. They were both naked, yet the contact was peculiarly innocent. His cock was soft where it pressed against the heat that lingered in her bottom. She no longer hurt, because, she realised, he was the most skilled of disciplinarians. There was just a warm glow left to remind her of the breathtaking tumult of their strange communion. She almost wished it was hotter. That it would last longer. That it was permanent. If she had some sign of what has passed between them that would always be with her, it would be a talisman to cling on to whenever they parted. The idea of that made her gasp, with a pain far more agonising than anything that could be inflicted by hand or by leather. “What’s wrong, my darling?” Ben whispered in her ear, his arm tightening a little around her middle. Possessively? “Did I hurt you too much? I’m sorry if I did…I become lost in the moment…and with you, more lost than ever before. But I didn’t mean to truly harm you.” “It’s all right, Ben.” She closed her hand over his, remembering its strength and implacability, and the sweet kindness and generous pleasure it bestowed too. “I feel wonderful, actually…thanks to you.” They lay in silence, but she could almost taste his thoughts, and measure the sudden tension that had sprung up in him. What was wrong?

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She opened her mouth to ask him, to ask what she could do to resolve whatever was bothering him. But before she could utter a word, he spoke again. “I love you.” Where there had been relaxation, now there was whirling agitation. Almost euphoria. She’d known he cared for her and desired her and even apart from the sex, enjoyed her company. Men often made wild, exaggerated claims about love when they were coming, that proved to be nonsense in quieter, cooler times, so she’d not dared to make too much of his orgasmic cries. But Ben was so different to the men she’d cared for before, in every possible way. Could it be that he spoke the truth, even while coming? Despite their happiness together, she’d never been quite sure that she was special enough for him. At least she hadn’t thought so until this weekend…Now she knew she was. That she was a match for him. Completely. The thoughts raced and circled. Now she really couldn’t speak for excitement. “I love you, Sarah,” he repeated, “and I want to be with you. All the time… Forever.” She could feel him shaking against her. Or was that her shaking against him? It was probably a bit of both. She still couldn’t speak, but she laced her fingers with his and squeezed tight in a clearer, simpler message. “But…I know my sexual tastes are particular and I don’t want to always impose them on you. Away from here, away from The Retreat, you might feel differently about all this…” This time it was his fingers that tightened. “But I can accept that…and I don’t expect you to indulge me. I…I can suppress it.” He kissed the back of her neck, and when he went on there was a wry note in his voice. “If you can accept that sometimes I might need to read the occasional magazine…and…um…deal with myself, I think we’ll be okay.” He nuzzled her, his mouth settling on the curve of her shoulder now, his beard a caress against her skin. “Fucking you is so mind-blowing in itself that I couldn’t, and shouldn’t ask for more.” Now, against her bottom, she felt him harden, and he moved slightly against her to reinforce her perception. “If you can accept me for a wicked old pervert, Sarah, I’d love to be your husband…if you’ll have me?” His voice was so soft, so kind, so honest. Even if there had been no sex, and no kink, she could not have imagined a man she felt more comfortable with now. More complete, and more herself.

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But still the enormity of his proposal sealed the words of joy within her. She began to shake more, with sobs, her body wrenched as hard by simple happiness as it had been by the most intense of all the orgasms he’d given her. “My love…my love…what is it? Please don’t be upset. I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to rush you.” Gently, he slid back, pushed on her shoulder and laid her down, beside him. In the soft light, his sublime brown eyes were glistening with the same moisture that was gathering in hers. Sarah reached up, drew his face down to hers, and then boldly took his mouth in a kiss that was both strong, yet as tender as she could make it. Befuddled by soaring joy, she told him everything with her lips that she was currently finding impossible to put into words, and when they finally drew apart, she could see from his smile, and the light in his gleaming eyes that he’d heard everything she’d ‘said’. “Oh, Sarah, my love…you’ll have me then?” His white teeth glinted in the shadows as his smile widened. “You’ll marry me? Is it ‘yes’?” Sarah reached up and touched his dear face, loving him, and loving everything about him. His fine eyes and the intellect behind them, his dear face and his thick brown hair, his soft, neat beard that felt so nice to her fingers. She loved his body too, and his heart, and his imagination. And at last she found the words. “Yes…it’s ‘yes’…but on one proviso.” “Name it!” His hand slid to her flank, and around the side of her buttock, holding her to him, but lightly as if he were still cautious of stirring up the heat of her spanking. She could see in his intense expression that he was longing to make love to her again, even if he hadn’t been pressing his hard cock against her thigh. “That you spank me whenever you think I need it…” She grinned at him, as his eyes lit up even more, and his beautiful mouth curved in the dark frame of his elegant whiskers. “Or whenever I think I need it.” “And how often do you think that might be?” His voice was rich with amusement as he pulled her tighter now, his fingertips pressing the cheek of her bottom as if she’d given him permission—and rights. Which she had. Sarah kept him waiting a moment, then said, “Oh, about once a day, I think…maybe more often.” Her voice was airy, but she’d never been more serious in her life.

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Ben kissed her hard, his lips, his tongue, his entire body dominant. “And how about now?” he enquired, all trace of their former mutual sleepiness vanished. “Oh yes, definitely…but in a little while.” She squirmed against him, teasing his erection with her thighs, her belly. “But would it be possible to wait until you’ve fucked me first?” Daringly, she stroked his penis, adoring its heat and its silky size. “Of course, my darling,” he purred, moving slowly in her caress, “But I must warn you…after I’ve spanked you, I’ll want to fuck you again, you realise. I won’t be able to help myself.” “That’s what I’m banking on, my love… That’s what I’m banking on…” And as he moved over her, she laughed softly, and added the words she’d almost forgotten to say, although meant, so sincerely meant, for quite some time. “I love you.”

About the Author Portia Da Costa is a multi-published and award-winning British author of romance, erotic romance and romantic fiction. Her novels have been published in the US, the UK, and across the world, and translated into many languages including German, Spanish, Italian, Dutch, Norwegian and Japanese. Best known for her ten novels for the pioneering British publisher Black Lace, she has gained high praise and a strong reader following for her intense, sensual, character-driven fiction and the vivid emotional depth of her novels and stories. She enjoys writing books with contemporary, paranormal and occasionally futuristic settings, and has also written some historical-themed short fiction. Portia has been writing for publication since 1990, and has had over twenty novels, for Black Lace and also for houses such as Scarlet, Heartline, X Libris, Headline Liaison, Ellora’s Cave and Phaze. She has also had over 100 short stories published, and she has contributed to many different short story anthologies and women’s magazines. Portia lives in the heart of West Yorkshire, UK, with her husband and her cats. When she’s not writing she enjoys reading, watching TV and movies, web design, blogging and online life in general. She was formerly a librarian and has also worked in local government. Email: [email protected] Portia loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totalebound.com.

Also by Portia Da Costa Object of Desire Wild In The Country

S&M 101 Sierra Cartwright

The Rules Rule 1: Follow orders Rule 2: Expect the unexpected Rule 3: It can and will get worse Rule 4: No Pouting Rule 5: Don’t think too hard

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Chapter One

“I’m not just bored,” Julia said, popping a peanut into her mouth, “but out of my skull, mind-numbingly, someone-please-save-me bored.” She dropped the empty shell onto the pub floor, then rubbed her hands together to clean off the salt. “And?” “I think you should spank me.” Trevor Kendall’s hand froze, the pint of beer mid-way to his lips. Without taking a drink, he lowered the glass back onto the table. “I beg your pardon?” “I’ve heard rumours.” The incredibly hot, sexy man sitting across from her raised a brow, but when he said nothing, she propped her elbows on the table, and linked her hands together. Very deliberately, and fortified by more than a few sips from her margarita, she leaned forward, placed her chin on top of her hands and went on, “I’ve heard rumours that you like a little…variety in your sex life.” “Let me get this straight…” His blue eyes darkened, as if there were a storm brewing somewhere inside. She shivered in excitement. “You’ve heard that I like variety, and you’re bored, so I should spank you?” Despite the noise in the London hotel’s pub, she heard him perfectly. His voice was rich and deep, commanding. She gave a little shiver. She so wanted to hear him command her, telling her to strip, telling her to stand, how to spread her legs… God, it was getting hot in here. “Yes,” she said. “You should spank me. And then fuck me.” “You must be bored,” he agreed. Frustratingly, she couldn’t get a sense of whether or not he was going to take her up to his room. “We’ve been at this trade show for a week,” she said, “smiling at potential customers, being on our best behaviour, trying to pretend our feet don’t hurt like mad. Behaving. Well, I’ve had enough. I want to be bad.” She cracked another shell and poured the nut towards her mouth, catching it with her tongue.

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“Do you have any idea what you’re asking for?” He picked up his pint again. This time he took a long draught from it. She’d bet big money, big money, that he would be divine at eating her pussy. “I’ve been fantasising about you for two years, Trevor,” she confessed. “Two years. Do you know how long that is in dog years?” He smiled. “It could be another six months, maybe a year before I see you again.” And that was the truth. They worked for different companies, on different continents. New York was a universe away. But they had the trade shows in common. “Rumour has it you’re staying on for a few days of relaxation.” He nodded. “And I put in for some holiday time. Hoping.” “Hoping?” he prompted. Good God, was she really this bold? “Hoping we could hook up.” It was an American statement, but she trusted the meaning would translate just fine. They’d known each other, though not intimately, for more than five years. That happened at trade shows. Inevitably, there were quiet times, and vendors wandered between one another’s booths. Sometimes you stopped to make polite conversation and sometimes just to pinch a piece of chocolate from a glass bowl. Then, often, you had cocktails with other vendors each night after the show ended. Tonight was the first night she and Trevor had actually had been alone for drinks. Usually there was a crowd, but, if there’d been more than just the two of them, she’d never have asked him to fuck her. “What do you know about BDSM?” “That it should be safe, sane, and consensual,” she quipped. He took another drink. “How much experience do you have?” “I’ve been spanked. I’ve been tied up. And I’m hoping to find someone who will take me farther, teach me more.” “Give me your hand.” She froze on her way to reach for the metal bucket that was filled with peanuts. A bit puzzled, she followed his order. How could she not, when she wanted to hear his voice roughened with sex and command?

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“Palm up,” he instructed. She did. He put his index finger directly on her pulse. “Your heartbeat,” he observed, “it’s rather fast.” “That’s because I’m horny, and I’m hoping you’ll take me back to your hotel room.” His touch ignited her, and she felt her knickers moisten. “Being tied up and spanked is different than BDSM,” he said. “I’ve read about it.” She could succumb to the faint feelings of embarrassment, but if the gossip about him were true, he wouldn’t tolerate that from a woman he was involved with. “Are you’re wearing knickers?” She moistened her lower lip. The salt from the peanuts had dried her mouth, or at least that’s what she told herself. “A thong.” “That’s your first mistake. Stockings?” Of course a man like him would expect her to be wearing sexy, silky stockings and a feminine garter belt. Unfortunately, she was dressed yeoman-like, ready for a workday, not this kind of play. “Pantyhose.” “Go into the toilets and remove your undergarments. Dispose of them in the rubbish.” She blinked. “I’ll expect you back in ninety seconds. Run along.” She sat there for another few moments, and she forced herself to close her mouth. “Eighty seconds.” Quickly, she excused herself, sliding from the stool. Under the intensity of his gaze, the floor seemed like a long way down. She thought of an old story her mother used to tell her, about bearding a lion in his den. Well, getting Trevor’s attention was what she’d been wanting for years, right? Conscious of every pulsating blink that marked off another second on her digital watch, she hurried towards the toilets. Before pushing through the door, she glanced back over her shoulder. The turkey was drinking his Black and Tan, paying her no mind. Still, excitement slamming with nerves, she entered a stall and peeled off her pantyhose and thong. She tossed both of them in the small bin. Thankfully it was right next to the toilet, which meant other ladies wouldn’t be watching when she threw away her knickers.

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She felt bare, naughty, and totally aroused. What else could he possibly have in store for her? He didn’t say anything when she rejoined him, but she noticed he’d ordered himself another beer. Once she was seated, he said, “Pull up your skirt. I want your bare arse on that stool.” She blinked. “And uncross your legs.” She was hyperaware of her pussy being exposed to the whisper of air- conditioning. “And part your thighs a bit.” “That’s indecent.” He went on as if she’d never spoken. “As for spanking you,” he said, “I could do that. I’d be happy to beat your arse with my hand or a belt, even a shoe or the back of a hairbrush if that turns you on.” The idea did. She fanned her face with her hand. “I’d, er, like another margarita.” “And I’d like you sober.” “So it doesn’t much matter what I want, then?” “Not so much.” Understanding began to dawn. He’d already started to dominate her. Her pussy moistened, and she felt the dampness more keenly with the lack of underpants. “But spanking you and fucking you and then sending you back to your hotel room doesn’t do much for me. That seems abusive, more than anything, not that I won’t do it if that’s all you want.” He started on his second pint. “But when I get involved with a woman, it’s rarely a one-night stand. I want the entire package, Julia. Bondage and discipline to go along with the sado-masochism. I want to warm your backside, in fact, a few welts would enhance your…assets.” Were they really having this conversation? How in the world had it gotten so onesided? When she’d invited him for a drink, she’d intended to seduce him, get her butt beat, then have a shattering orgasm that would help her sleep until noon. But Trevor Kendall had turned the tables. “To me, though, it’s about more than warming your backside. I’m looking for your complete submission. It’s about seeing you on your knees, your breathing ragged as you wonder how you can please me.”

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“That’s what I want,” she said breathlessly. “I want to learn. I want you to be my instructor. Teach me, Trevor.” “Class is in session,” he said. Then he laughed. “What shall we call it? S&M 101?” “Why not?” She would have smiled back, but she was too shaken with nerves, too apprehensive that he’d turn her down. “I’m an excellent student. Honest.” “Are your nipples hard?” She shook her head. “Sorry?” “Check.” “What? Here? You want me to feel myself while we’re at happy hour at a posh hotel pub?” He raised a brow and waited with the confidence that she’d comply. “If you had removed your brassiere in the ladies room, I’d be able to see for myself.” “You didn’t tell me to.” Then she shut up. She should have asked. Could have assumed. “Are you being deliberately obtuse? Is a bra an undergarment?” Blood drained from her face. “I’ll, er, just nip in there right now and take it—” “I gave you a direct command. And following orders is rule number one of S&M 101. Now finger your nipple.” Her gaze darting about apprehensively to see if anyone were watching, she followed his instruction. She pulled her shirttails from her skirt’s waistband, and then moved her fingers upwards, then under the bra cup. “Have you ever played with nipple clamps?” “Yes. I have two sets.” She felt her nipple. “I’ve never used them with a man, only by myself when I masturbate.” “Tell me about your nipple. What does it feel like right now?” “It’s hard. Like a little pebble. It, I mean I, want more attention.” “Is your pussy getting wetter?” She nodded. “Then you like to submit? You like me telling you to do naughty things you wouldn’t ordinarily do. And you like to do them.” The proof was between her thighs. “You can stop playing with your nipple.”

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She could hardly believe that she hadn’t stopped when she wanted to, that she waited on him to tell her what to do. “I already know that you’re curious to know what a spanking from me would feel like. You’re curious to know if I’d have you lean over a chair, or if I’d tie you to the bedposts. And you’re doubly curious to know if I’d make you lay across my knee.” “The last one,” she said, barely able to talk. Where was the cheeky woman who’d asked for a spanking? “And you’re wondering, if, while you’re there, with your bottom in the air, hot from my hand, your hair brushing the floor, I’d finger your pussy and make you come.” She squirmed on her seat. “Yes,” she admitted, striving for her laissez-faire attitude from earlier. “That’s what I’ve been fantasising about.” “It’s been known to happen. I’m not an entirely selfish Dom. My sub’s pleasure matters to me. Tell me about a spanking you got.” “It was hot,” she said. “He tied my hands to the bedpost. I could wiggle around. He…he spanked me a half a dozen, maybe as many as ten times. His hand got tired before my butt did. He laid on top of me and fucked me after that. I came harder than I’d ever come before.” “Tell me what you liked about it.” The cocktail waitress stopped by the table. “More drinks? Something to eat?” she asked. “We’ll take the bill,” he said. Which meant they weren’t staying much longer. Julia knew she could climax just sitting here. The waitress left and he continued to patiently wait for her answer. “Rock back and forth a bit on the chair as you talk.” Ohmigod! The feelings were so intense; it was like being devoured by fire from the inside out. She was moist and slick. “I liked feeling helpless, about not knowing what to expect next. I was facedown, so I couldn’t see anything.” “Blindfolded?” “He told me to keep my eyes closed.” “And did you?” “Yes. Mostly.” “So, no.”

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“No,” she breathed, her stomach clenching. “You were disobedient.” When she nodded, he asked, “And he still fucked you?” “It was impossible to keep my eyes closed.” The waitress dropped off their tab. “No, it wasn’t. You chose not to.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, paid the bill and left a huge tip. “We’ll go to my room,” he said. “And you’ll walk in front of me.” She’d rather expected he’d tell her to walk a few steps behind, like he was royalty. Or her Master. “I want you to move your hips as you walk. Make me think about sex. Make me think about my hard cock.” Leaving the bar without underwear and totally conscious of his gaze on her about rocked her world. He caught up with her to open the door. His breath was warm, and a tiny shiver tickled her, as he leaned in closer and said, “You know, Julia, with the way you’re moving, I’m not thinking about sex. I’m thinking about a good nap.” “What?” She gasped. She turned a bit so that she could look him in the face. “If that’s what you call moving your hips, we’ll go up to my room and be asleep in front of the news in five minutes.” He brushed her breast and then took the opportunity to gently bite her earlobe. “Now walk like a slut.” Damn him. The word was startling. But it was part of it, the raw, untamed part that she craved. She wanted to be a slut for him. Teeth gritted, she walked in front of him, aware of his gaze on her backside and the pain on her earlobe. As she exaggerated her movements, she felt more feminine. “Better,” he said. She waited while he rang for the lift. There were other people already in the car, and he nodded almost imperceptibly, wordlessly telling her to stand at the front where everyone could have a look at her. She’d never been much of an exhibitionist, yet she was getting more and more aroused by the moment. She knew the other people didn’t realise she was bare bottomed and that she was going to get spanked by a hottie, but she knew, and Trevor knew. When they reached his floor, he again had her precede him. “I’ll be back in five minutes,” he told her as he slid the cardkey into the electronic lock. “When I return, I’ll

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expect to find you naked, kneeling on the floor, knees spread to shoulder width, your hands behind your neck and your breasts thrust out. You’ll have your back to the door.” He waited for her to nod, then continued, “You’ll not touch your cunt. And you will have your eyes closed. Now repeat what I said.” “Faced away from the door, on my knees, naked, breasts thrust out…” Anyone walking past would have been able to overhear their conversation. He waited. “Eyes closed,” she finished, “and no touching myself.” He had no idea what he was demanding from her. Or, yes, he probably did. Just the idea of being told not to touch herself made her needy. “I want you properly submissive,” he said. “I want you to make sure you know what you’re doing. You’d be well-advised to think things through.” He crossed towards her and captured her chin with his thumb and forefinger. She’d rarely been more aroused. “Choose a word,” he told her. “It’ll be your safe word. If you use it, all play will stop. You should use it if you’re too scared. But know this. I will be watching you. I will know what turns you on, what frightens you, what terrifies you, where you are too reluctant to go. You will never need to use your word with me, but it will be there to make you feel comfortable.” “Vodka tonic.” “Vodka tonic?” “I hate ‘em. No way will I ever slip and say it accidentally.” “And will you remember it?” She wrinkled her nose. “Yes.” “The second rule of S&M 101, according to me… Expect the unexpected. I don’t play the way you’re accustomed to.” He waited, and she nodded. “So if you don’t want to learn about BDSM, no hard feelings. I’ll come back to the room and fuck you. May be a bit rougher than you’ve experienced, but still, it’ll be good for both of us.” He was supremely confident, and she didn’t doubt him at all.

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“I’ll gladly screw your brains out. And if that’s what you want, all you have to do is ignore my orders.” He stroked that sensitive spot beneath her chin. She ached to turn her head and lean into his palm, but he held her steady. “If I find you on the settee, we’ll have an enjoyable night together. Unfortunately, vanilla isn’t a flavour I enjoy often. But if you want to discover what you’ve been missing, then I will find you in the position I described.” His words hung between them. His face was set in firm, uncompromising lines. This was a man who knew what he wanted and would brook no compromise. She could easily become a puddle of desire at his feet. Quietly, commandingly, he added, “I will find you subjugating your own needs and desires. I will find you obedient. I will find you waiting on my pleasure.” He paused on his way out the door, turned and looked back at her. She was imagining the sting in the earlobe where he’d nipped earlier. It hadn’t turned her off; it’d made her hungrier. “That guy who fucked you, even though you didn’t behave? The one who spanked you and made it all about you? He didn’t understand Dominance and submission.” And, she knew, Trevor did. The door closed with a decisive click.

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Chapter Two

Well, bugger all. Julia Landon, ice princess extraordinaire, wanted to have her arse warmed. Trevor was generally very good at spotting subs, women as well as men. But Julia had played her role as a professional so convincingly that he hadn’t seen any of the signals. She’d quite literally had to knock him upside of the head, bat her lashes over her gorgeous green eyes, and all but beg him to dominate her. Too bad they hadn’t met for drinks alone earlier in the trip. Hell, even two years ago. Up until this evening, there’d been a group of them, hanging out, sharing trade show horror stories, celebrating the end of the day. Well, he didn’t mind making up for lost time. He went back downstairs for another pint. No need to be in any hurry. In fact, prolonging her uncertainty was part of his plan. Trevor didn’t make himself too comfortable. He stood at the bar and drank his beer. And he couldn’t get his thoughts away from the sexy woman in his hotel room. He’d intentionally chosen his room, where she’d feel a little less comfortable. And if she were nosy at all, she’d find some interesting things in his suitcase. Just the idea of clamping her tits made his cock thicken. Not that his ardour had cooled one bit in the past half an hour. Despite what he’d told her earlier, the way she walked in front of him had made his dick feel like a steel rod. Her hair had swayed as she’d moved, and he’d fantasised about curling his fist in the long, blonde length as he held her steady for his possession. He wondered, as he took a long drink, if she’d actually follow through on her desires, or if she’d turn her cute tail and run for her own room. Would he find her naked with her legs spread and the scent of her arousal hanging sharply in the air? Unobtrusively he adjusted the front of his trousers. He’d intended to keep her waiting for twenty minutes, maybe half an hour. He wanted her to think things through and have doubts. To him, Dominance and submission were a lifestyle, not simply a diversion for some bored woman several thousand miles from home.

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But after fifteen minutes, he dropped a twenty on the bar and headed back to his room. For the first time in a long time, he was thinking more with his cock than his head.

What she thought would be a five minute wait dragged into ten, then fifteen. Julia forced herself to resist the temptation to check the clock. Trevor was testing her. Well, either that or he’d gone back to the pub for another pint and completely forgotten about her. The chilled air whispered from the vents and chilled her naked skin, goose bumps dotted her arms, and her nipples were tight buds. Behind her closed eyelids, the room seemed to darken. One peek couldn’t hurt, could it? But what if he caught her and sent her away? Trevor Kendall wasn’t a thing like any man she’d ever been with. Thinking he was would get her sent away. Her knees fatigued and her arms started to strain. And she’d thought this would be a kick. Was she crazy? She heard a noise behind her. It sounded like someone was entering the room. Had he finally come back? When silence echoed in the room, her mind raced. Maybe the sound hadn’t been Trevor at all. Maybe she’d heard the maid come in for the nightly turn-down service. Oh God, what if the maid saw her like this? Julia was a trusted vendor; she had a reputation to maintain. Heaven help her, if someone other than Trevor was in the room, she’d die from the embarrassment. Still, she remained in position. The noise didn’t come again, and she told herself to stop freaking out. She probably had only heard someone going into a nearby room. That didn’t stop her mind from racing and her temper from fraying. How the hell long did he intend to leave her like this, alone in a darkened room, with her eyes closed, waiting? “You’re a good sub. Better than I thought you’d be. I did miss your signals over the past few years.”

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She jumped. He was there, behind her, watching her! Involuntarily, her eyes opened. Quickly, before he could see her infraction, she closed them again. Her heart thundered, drowning out whatever he was saying. This was intense. He was right with rule number two. She had never experienced anything like this. He’d returned almost silently, and not knowing what to expect shattered her nerves. “Keeping your eyes closed, stand up.” She felt completely disoriented. And that disorientation threw every one of her senses into a hyper-aware mode. This was beyond anything she’d ever expected. When she told him she wanted a spanking, she’d really had no idea what she was asking for. “Now turn towards my voice. Keep your arms behind your neck so I can see your breasts. That’s it,” he said approvingly. “Nice. Very nice. You know, I wasn’t sure you had it in you.” “Are you kidding me? If you’re going to spank me and fuck me, I definitely have it in me to behave myself.” He laughed, and the sound was every bit as rich as a fine burgundy, and twice as intoxicating. “It’s about more than just a good spanking, though,” he told her. “It’s about all the psychological explorations that go along with the physical release.” “So spank me, and we can talk about my feelings later.” Intentionally, she licked her lower lip. The unabashedly sexual move had helped her get her own way dozens of times in the past. “I’d prefer to do it my own way.” “Suit yourself.” “I plan to.” He cupped her breasts. “Stay still,” he said when she swayed towards him. Julia quietly moaned. She was expecting him to be a bit rough. This sweet, gentle touch undid her. He thumbed her nipples, making them even more erect. Then he left her alone. Unable to help herself, she whispered, “Damn it. Damn you.” “My pleasure,” he reminded her. “This is about my pleasure. And if you get off every so often, so much the better. But it isn’t about you.” To her, it was. All about her and no one else.

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“Still want to play?” Well, hells bells, of course she did. “Yes.” “Then apologise for pouting.” Fuck you, she supposed, wouldn’t count as an apology. “I’m not pouting.” “Apologise.” “I’d like an orgasm.” “That’s not an apology.” She heard rustling in the background, the sound of a closet door being opened, then the pull of a zipper. “I’m sorry for pouting. And I’d like an orgasm, please.” “Make your nipples hard.” She slowly unhooked her fingers and moved her hands from behind her neck. She cupped her breasts, much as he had. “Make me enjoy watching you.” She pinched and pulled and then squeezed her nipples gently. “A little harder.” She did and she couldn’t hold back an involuntary moan. “Knowing you’re watching only makes it hotter,” she admitted. His fingers were there then, and he moved her hand away from her right breast. She bit back a cry when he pinched her nipple. Then there was a different pressure. His hand moved away, but the sting remained. He’d clamped her nipple. She breathed. She knew this feeling. It was a clover clamp, and its pressure would intensify as time went on. She sucked in another shaky little breath. “Now the other.” He again brushed aside her hand and pinched painfully, making her nipple harden instantly. She bit on her lower lip when he placed the clamp. He tugged on the chain, pulling her off balance. “Remain in place.” Julia struggled to do as she was told. “Rise onto your tiptoes.” She was overwhelmed from the sensations. Then he slid his hand between her legs. “You’re wet,” he said approvingly. “I’m going to come.” Her hips jerked forward.

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“Not yet,” he said. “Hold off.” “But…” “Your choice,” he said magnanimously, rubbing her clit. “But it’ll be more intense later if you wait.” He stopped the motion and she would have stamped her foot if it wouldn’t have earned her another reprimand. “Have you ever had your cunt clamped?” She gasped. “I…” She couldn’t. She was all about new experiences, but this…? He left her. Damn him. He’d left her nervous and orgasm-less. Returning moments later, he spread her labia, then he plumped one of the lips. “You can open your eyes.” “I prefer to keep them closed.” “And I want you to see what I’m doing to you.” Suddenly there was a knot of tension in her throat. She opened her eyes to see him crouched in front her, his face level with her crotch. He was holding a set of Japanese clover clamps, exactly the same as the ones affixed to her nipples. “Trevor…” “I want to do this,” he said. “And I want you to ask me to do it to you.” “The ones on my nipples already hurt.” “And when you eventually come, you’re going to scream,” he said. She drew strength from the calmness in his voice. “It’s your choice.” Julia became consciously aware of being completely nude, at his mercy, while he was still fully dressed and in control. He had a hard-on, though. That much she could see, despite his loose-fitting trousers. Suddenly, she wanted to curve her hand around his cock and guide it towards her waiting vagina. A shiver that had nothing to do with the room’s cooling system raced down her spine. “I’m scared.” “Nothing will ever happen that you can’t handle.” She wanted the adventure, that’s why she’d come-on to him over drinks. In for a penny… “Clamp my pussy lips,” she said. “Please.” She curled her hands into tight little fists at her sides.

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“Relax,” he said, coaching her. “This is easier when you’re not tense.” She laughed, and the sound was brittle. “Easy for you to say.” “You have a safe word,” he reminded her. “Or, should I say, a safe drink.” Julia forced herself to uncurl her fists and move her fingers, as if she were a piano player, loosening up before practicing her scales. “Spread your legs a little farther apart.” Then he completely did the unexpected. He leaned in and licked her clit. It was a long, sweeping caress that chased away everything but a keen sense of desire. He intensified his motions, and he was all but eating her out. Heaven save her. She’d been right earlier. He was magnificent at eating pussy. An orgasm started to unfurl deep inside her, and she reached out, digging her hands into his hair to pull him closer. “Trevor!” While she was distracted, he affixed one of the clamps to her outer labia. She gasped, but he kept at the motions. A strange mix of pain and pleasure cascaded through her. The clamp tugged at her lip, but it was far from painful. He affixed the second one, and she stood there, her legs spread, while he moved away. “Lovely,” he approved. He drew a breath. “Come here.” He crossed the room and held out his hand towards her. To keep the pressure at bay, she walked funny, trying not to let the clamps sway too much. The ones on her nipples hurt much more than the ones pulling on her labia. He positioned her in front of a mirror. Each of the clamps hanging from her labia had little weights attached to them. They drew her pussy lips even farther down and apart. It looked strange to her, but when her gaze found his in the mirror, she smiled. “Sexy,” he said. She knew that to him, it was. “Imagine what it will feel like when you’re grinding your naughty little pussy on my lap when I spank you.” She nearly came right then and there. “Put your high heels back on,” he said.

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Moving gingerly, she did so. He crossed the room and hooked a chair leg with his foot. He pulled the chair away from the table, and then he loosened his tie. “Look in the mirror one more time,” he told her. “Look how incredibly sexy you look, all clamped, naked, and in high-heeled shoes waiting on your Dom’s pleasure.” Her Dom’s pleasure. The idea of it sent a ripple through her. Her lips were parted slightly. Her cheeks were flushed. Her hair was mussed. And the starkness of silver metal against her creamy skin was startling. “You can’t imagine how much you turn me on,” he said. She turned to look at him. His eyes, an intense blue that reminded her of a frozen alpine lake, were narrowed. As aroused as she was, he was, too. She wanted it, wanted him to be as aware of her as she was of him. “Now for that spanking you not only want, but definitely deserve.”

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Chapter Three

Suddenly, Julia’s mouth went dry. When she’d been fantasising last night as she masturbated, the scene hadn’t unfolded quite like this. The spanking she’d imagined had been more an inevitable outcome of the sex, something wild and spontaneous. It hadn’t been as emotionally loaded as this; it hadn’t been as deliberate, as intoxicating. He dropped his tie on the table near his notebook computer. Then he unfastened the buttons at his wrists and turned back his cuffs, exposing the sexy strength of his forearms. He sat in the chair. Her knees went all wobbly on her. “Walk towards me,” he said. “And then kneel in front of me.” The clamps sashayed back and forth, making her very much aware of her body in a way she never had been before. His eyes narrowed a bit more. She recognised, as a subservient female to dominant male, how much power she had in this moment. The juxtaposition made her thoughts swirl. Because he saw her as sexy, she felt sexy. She had the ability to end this at any moment. But she wasn’t going to. She’d wanted a sexual experience unlike any other, had wanted to be the centre of his attention, and she bloody well intended to enjoy every single moment as long as it lasted. He parted his legs and she knelt between them. Trevor held her head prisoner. Then he leaned forward and kissed her. This wasn’t a gentle, searching, asking kiss. This was intense, plunging. He took, and she gave. His tongue met hers, and she tasted the beer he’d had in the pub. Their teeth met in the fever to join. He devoured her mouth. She moaned, wanting and needing this. She said his name. The word please consumed her. As suddenly as it started, it was over. He hauled her up. Her head was spinning, and then she was over his knee. She desperately fought for balance, grabbing at his pants leg, the chair, anything.

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The clamps pulled on her cunt, and she cried out. His open hand landed on her upturned buttocks. She yelped. The second fell just as fast and stung even worse. “Damn it!” “Relax into it,” he told her as he delivered a third, sharp slap. “Be aware of all the different sensations.” As if she could do anything else. “Loosen your body,” he told her. Her buttocks were clenched tight. The bastard caught her in that sensitive, tender spot at the top of her thighs, just beneath the curve of her derriere. “I said relax.” As if that were possible! “You look lovely, sub.” She put her fingertips on the carpet. Vaguely, though, she was aware that he hadn’t let her go. Even though she couldn’t think straight, he’d been in control. The entire time, she’d been safe. He’d kept one arm protectively across her. He would have never allowed her to fall, no matter what her sense of survival said. He could be trusted to keep her safe, allowing her to surrender to the whirling feeling of being out of control. “You’ve got five seconds to relax your ass,” he warned. Drawing a shaky breath, she willed herself to unclench her muscles. “Much better,” he approved. She was shocked when her tummy turned over at his words of approval. The words were simple, but they meant so much. Suddenly she wanted to please him. It wasn’t just about her. It was about him, as well. She understood what he’d been talking about. “Spread your legs.” She slowly did. Because of the clamps, her labia were already totally parted for him. A heated flush chased up her cheeks when she realised how wet she was. “You’re a natural sub, Julia,” he said. He slid his hand between her legs, then fingerfucked her. She shuddered.

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She was frightfully aware of lying across his lap, her pussy exposed, her behind reddened from his painful spanking. Her breasts were elongated because of the weight of the clamps pulling on her nipples. Every nerve-ending in her body sizzled with the sensation of being vibrantly alive. He built up a rhythm with his thrusts, and in seconds, she was on the verge of coming, all the denied orgasms colliding deep in her womb. “Now,” he told her, “we’re going to get on with the business of this spanking.” She dug the pointed toes of her shoes into the carpet, trying in vain to raise her hips a bit so she could draw his fingers deeper inside her pussy. “Stop that, naughty girl.” “But…” He pulled out his fingers entirely, leaving her gapingly open. “That’s not nice,” she said. “I’m unfulfilled.” “Poor thing.” There wasn’t a drop of sincere sympathy in his words. “You’ve experienced my spanking, and you survived it,” he said. “So now you know what to expect from misbehaving.” “More pain.” He delivered a smart smack to her inner thigh. She would have fallen from the unexpected bite of pain if he hadn’t held her tight. “Rule number three in S&M 101,” he said, “it can and will get worse if you’re not properly appreciative of your Dom’s attentions.” Her breaths were shallow little puffs. “Thank you is the correct response, sub. Thank you, Trevor, for the instruction. Thank you, Trevor, for your attention. Thank you, Trevor, for being so lenient.” How could she think, let alone speak? Then he slapped her again. This was harder than the previous ones, more instructive. “Tha…” She fought for air. “Thank you.” “Much better,” he said approvingly. “Now, how would you like to proceed?” Unbelievably, her pussy was drenched with desire. She’d never been more aroused. She’d never wanted sex more than she did at this very moment. The mixture of pain and pleasure collided in her brain. She couldn’t think past her need. “Fuck me,” she begged.

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He spanked her again and again, until tears stung her eyes and her clit swelled and throbbed. “Damn you! I said fuck me!” “Manners?” he prompted. “Please! Please fuck me, Trevor. Use me, Sir.” “I thought you’d never ask.” He helped her from his lap. He positioned her on the floor on all fours. She was aware of him unzipping his trousers, but she barely heard the sound above the sharp inhalations of her own breath. “I need you in me,” she said, the words ragged. She felt his sheathed cockhead against her opening. The nips of pain from the clamps were exquisite, driving her over the edge. She was trying to be good, trying to submit and wait on his command, but she no longer seemed to have a conscious mind. She was just a hungry woman, desperate for his primitive domination. Julia moved her hips backwards, urging him to drive into her. “Wench,” he warned. But more of his penis slid into her. He stretched her, he filled her. “Damn it,” she said. “This sub needs you to use her.” “When you ask so nicely…” He sank his entire length into her. She moaned. “Trevor!” He clamped his hands on her shoulders and pulled back half a dozen centimetres before driving in again. The force of his possession gave her an instant climax. She screamed his name over and over. But he wasn’t done. The man had unbelievable control. He pounded into her again, pulling out, thrusting in. Stunning her, a second climax started to build inside her. He grasped her about the hips, holding her still. Then he began to ride her. The clamps on her cunt burned, and the ones on her nipples ached. Her entire body felt as if it were being pricked by needles. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

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He rammed his cock deep, and the force of that single penetration made her shout out her next orgasm. Trevor pulled out, then moments later, she felt the hot spurt of his seed on her buttocks. It trickled down the inside of her thigh. She lowered her forehead to the carpeting, trying to steady her breath. He slapped her rear one last time. Then he dragged her backwards, holding her by her hips, keeping her immobilised, imprisoned. “So, my sweet sub, how was your first spanking at my hand?” “I… Yes,” she said. Then she shook her head to clear it. Had she even answered the question he asked? “Thank…thank you,” she managed. And then she added, “More.” “Ever been fucked up the arse?”

This little hussy pleased him immensely. He was glad they had nearly a week together. It wasn’t enough, but it was a start. He’d look forward to the next trade show instead of dreading the time away from the office. “Julia?” She turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. Her long blonde hair was in charming disarray, wayward strands on her flushed cheeks. Her face was flushed, and her rain-forest green eyes were wide and glossy. His gut tightened. Christ, but she was lovely and willing. And his. S&M Dom rule number one… Like most Doms, he had strict rules for himself, as well. And the first was, don’t get attached to a sub unless you want a 24/7 commitment. “No,” she said. “I’ve never had anal sex.” “There’s always a first time.” He pulled his cock from the tight, clenching muscles of her pussy. With her on all fours, he spread her arse cheeks so he had a good view of her most private spot. Her anal whorl was pink, tight, and inviting. The entrance was tightly closed, and the idea of penetrating the virginal hole appealed to him on a primal level. Damn. His penis was already getting hard again just from the idea of buggering her. “I’m not sure I want you up there,” she said.

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“Did I ask?” “I have no say?” “As a sub, you always have the final say. Use your safe word and our play will be over.” Had he ever wished that a submissive would keep her mouth shut more than he did at this moment? “But you’ll ask for it, Julia, like a good sub. Just like you did when I spanked you. You’re going to want it so bad, you’ll have a fit of temper if I don’t give it to you.” A frown furrowed between her brows. “Don’t believe me?” She shook her head. He grinned. She was going to enjoy it, and he was going to enjoy it even more than her. “Spread your legs so I can remove the clamps from your labia.” When she did, he told her, “Raise up your backside a bit more so I can…” While she was getting in position, he released the clamps simultaneously. “Damn!” “It actually hurts less than if you’d have expected it.” “Sadist,” she said through gritted teeth. “Oh, yes. Most definitely so. Next time, though, I could leave you that way longer.” “Thank you, Trevor, for your leniency.” “Quick study, you are.” “Do I get an A?” “Not even, teacher’s pet. Your pussy is so swollen.” “It feels well used.” “On your knees.” She moved gingerly. Her motions were far too slow and gangly for his more refined taste. But then, she wasn’t an experienced sub, and that was a treat in of itself. Training her opened her to much greater punishment. He began unbuttoning his shirt and said, “If I haven’t given any instructions that countermand what I’m about to tell you now, I always expect your knees to be as far apart as possible. Yoga or something may help you improve.” She spread her legs. “Good. I like you being aware that you’re uncomfortable.” He wondered how long until her muscles quivered. He toed off one of his shoes, then stopped. On second thought, he re-fastened his trousers, as well. “That’s part of S&M, Julia. The mind

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games. You need to understand that a true sub gets off on serving her Master. Otherwise, it’s an occasional parlour game. It’s not all about the exquisite pleasure of pain. “I don’t mind if your muscles get fatigued. In fact, the sooner the better. I want you to struggle internally with the desire to tell me to take a long walk off a short plank. And I want to see if you’ll reach the place where my pleasure, what I want, is paramount to you. It needs to matter more to you than your own comfort.” Could she get there? Did she want to? Their gazes were locked, and he was very much aware of her breaths, coming in little pants. She was lovely, ripe. And if she’d get out of her own way, she could be an excellent sub. “I also want your head tipped back so that your hair flows down your back and your throat is exposed and I can touch your pulse to see if you’ve got yourself under control,” he told her. She did as she was told. “As for your hands, many Doms prefer their subs to keep their hands fastened behind their necks.” She started to move into position, but stopped when he added, “But I want your hands holding your pussy apart. I want to see your clit and have access to it.” Julia opened her mouth, but before she said anything, she closed it again. Lord, she looked exquisite, with her hair flowing down her spine, her neck exposed in submission, her legs spread, her pussy parted. “Trevor?” “Hmm?” “My nipples…” “Are clamped. And they look beautiful.” He reached down and grabbed the metal chain that joined the clovers. He pulled, gently. “Argh!” And then he pulled harder. “Thank you,” she said on a sharp inhalation. “What do I smell?” he asked. His cock was lengthening by the moment. He twisted the chain around his fist. “Me,” she said. And now, she was panting. From the pain, he knew, but also from the arousal. “You smell me.” “Are you a horny slut?”

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Her eyes were closed, and he saw the pain etched on her face. But she kept her hands between her legs. He was so close, he couldn’t see if she was giving in to her body’s demand that she play with her clitoris to try and reach release. He drew the chain farther away from her body, distending her breasts, as well as her nipples. With his free hand, he stroked his cock. Her willingness to please him, her pleasure from it, made his balls fill. He wanted to fuck her. Wanted to slam into her anus and impale her. “Trevor!” “Sub?” “Can I get myself off?” “You mean, Trevor, would it please you to watch me get off like the naughty girl I am?” “Would it—” She broke off as her hips bucked forward. “Would it please you to watch me…? Uhhhh…I’m…” Julia was jerking, seeking an orgasm, humping nothing more than the air. “Stop touching yourself immediately.” When she did, he backed off the pressure on her nipples slightly. In the midst of delirious pleasure, she could take more pain, he knew. She cried out when he released the grip on her chain entirely. “No,” he said. “It wouldn’t please me to watch you have an orgasm right now. Cup your breasts.” Trevor appreciated the internal battle that raged so expressively on her face. She gnawed her lower lip and wrinkled her nose. Would she deny herself the climax in order to please him? “Compose yourself, Julia.” “Yes, sir,” she said. She took her time getting into position, her thighs parted, her palms lifting her breasts high in an offering to him. She tipped back her head, once again spilling her hair towards her lusciously padded backside. He waited until she closed her eyes, then he quietly said, “Good girl.” “Is it always like this?” she asked. “Sub?” “The intensity.” Her voice was a cracked whisper. “All this and more.” “I want it,” she confessed.

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He didn’t respond. Instead, he shocked her by manoeuvring himself until he was flat on his back, his head between her legs. “Sir?” “I want you to put the chain from your nipple clamps between your teeth.” He heard the slight jangle of metal. “Now, every time you move, each motion will tug on your tits.” Her response was muffled. “Keep your hands on your breasts. And lower yourself so that your cunt is nearly on my face.” He put his hands on her thighs, keeping her legs separated. What a lovely sight it was to see her pretty pussy so close to his face. “That’s it,” he said approvingly. “Do your pussy lips feel more sensitive because of the way they were clamped?” She gave a little grunt. Nodding would have hurt; he’d seen to that. Her pussy, above him, was red and swollen and her clit was so swollen its hood was pulled back, no longer able to hide it. “You’ve got a sub hard-on,” he told her. His name was a mumbled protest behind the chain in her mouth. Trevor smiled. “You were so eager to hump the air earlier.” Her entire body seemed to shake with the effort of having her legs spread so wide while still supporting her own weight. The unknown factored in, he knew, like he wanted it to. And the spikes of pain in her nipples had to be maddening. “It pleases me,” he said, “to watch you get off like the naughty girl you are. Hump my mouth, slut.”

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Chapter Four

Julia was going out of her mind. Delirious. Desire was a primeval beat in her soul. She couldn’t believe she was acting this way. She was like an out of control wanton. In her career, she was competent, in control. She always kept her emotions leashed, and she could smile at the biggest cocksucking vendor on the face of the planet. But here she was, on her knees, her nipples clamped and the chain fixed between her teeth, grinding her crotch into Trevor Kendall’s face? She had a hard time believing it. And more? There was no place she’d rather be. His maddening tongue was on her swollen clit. The tiny nub of flesh was already throbbing, and the sweeps of his tongue made it worse. Despite herself, she totally lost control. She began the rhythm that would relieve her. In seconds, she was fucking his face. She was vaguely aware of his motions until she felt three of his fingers in her vagina, stretching her wide. She leaned forward a few centimetres so his mouth had the same access to her clit as he’d had moments ago. He sucked and nibbled. Her head fell back. Sensation seared through her nipples, and she instinctively squeezed her breasts. Her hips jerked. He pulled downward and bit. An orgasm clawed at her from the inside out. She screamed. And then she came all over his face. He held her tight, comfortingly, until she was spent. Slowly, reality returned and she began to notice the pain in her nipples and she noticed how her pussy throbbed. And noticed how he kissed her cunt. This was so much more than she ever imagined. And she didn’t want it to end. He smacked her on her right flank. “Position yourself, Julia.” She shook her head to clear it.

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Her motions were completely ungraceful as she knelt up and shook out her hair before tipping back her head. With her fingertips, she spread apart her pussy lips, noticing how totally wet she was. Then he did the unthinkable. He knelt in front of her and captured her head, threading his fingers into her hair. He moved her head until she looked him in the eye. “My face is wet from your pussy.” “Yes,” she breathed. “Clean me with your mouth.” She blinked. But she already knew too well not to question him. “Yes, Trevor.” She fought back her own instinctive revulsion. She wasn’t a woman who licked her fingers after playing with herself. Awkwardly, on her knees, she moved a little closer. She was aware of the carpet’s burn, and she was very conscious that she was still under strict instruction to keep her hands between her legs to keep her pussy separated for her Dom. She leaned in closer and licked his chin. His skin was masculine, a bit stubbly. And she tasted the tang of her own essence. It was a bit salty, but the second lick wasn’t as unpleasant. She also inhaled the scent of him, the spice of aftershave and the scent of power. Unbelievably, her pussy grew even wetter. She licked the end of his nose. Somehow, this felt even more intimate than if she’d given him head. She kissed between his dark eyebrows, even though she didn’t really need to; she wanted to. Julia got hungrier and hungrier. “You want to be fucked again?” he asked quietly. “I’m a slut,” she said simply. “For you.” And she was. She wanted to please him, wanted him to be glad he’d brought her up to his room. “Finish what you’re doing, then.” She did. With her mouth, with little puffs of her breath, she licked all of her wetness from him. “On your back,” he told her. Her tummy turning over, she hurried to follow orders. She wanted him in her.

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He captured her hands in one of his and imprisoned them on the carpeted floor above her head. Everything about him was dominating. And she was the lucky sub beneath the power of his hips and cock. “Master has a powerful cock.” “I like that word,” he said. “Which one?” she teased. “Cock?” “Master.” He drove into her powerfully, knocking the breath from her lungs. “Put your legs over my shoulders. I want to be in deeper.” She wasn’t sure she’d survive such an onslaught. “Now,” he commanded. She followed orders. “Trev…” “Take it all,” he said. Julia willed herself to relax. After taking a breath, she moved so that her legs draped over his shoulders. He rode her, filled her. No one and nothing existed but him and his possession of her body. “Submit to me, Julia.” He drove into her then, hard, fast, deep. Instead of struggling, she took him. He filled her completely, against her womb. Her insides spasmed. “That’s my Julia.” His Julia. He fucked her hard and she wanted it, everything he wanted to give her. “Would my orgasm please you?” she asked. “Squeeze my cock with your vaginal muscles,” he told her. Then he laughed. “Yes. Yes, you have my permission to climax.” Over and over, he pounded her. She dug with her heels, using his body to leverage her hips from the ground so she could take more of him. Her orgasm consumed her, and she clenched his penis hard, milking him. She felt the change in him as his cock became more turgid.

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He pulled out right before he came. As she watched, he jerked off, and his hot cum spurted onto her belly. She moaned, feeling owned by him. This, this is what she’d spent her life looking for. When he released his grip on her wrists, she used her fingertips to scoop up his cooling ejaculate and then she sucked her fingers clean. He was on his haunches between her legs. “Wench,” he said. Looking up at him, she blinked her eyes innocently. Then she made a naughty, soft, smacking sound. “You taste delicious.” “You’ve a thing or two to learn still. About obedience.” “Class is in session,” she said saucily. “Into the shower with you. Turn on the water. And if you need to urinate, leave the door open.” Now he’d completely knocked the wind from her happy sails. “Beg your pardon?” “You will have no secrets from me. My subs are not allowed privacy.” “You can’t possibly be serious.” An uncompromising scowl set between his brows. “My subs are not allowed privacy,” he repeated. A hot flush of humiliation chased up her face. “So, even if I need to—” “Even if.” “Trevor…” “Use your safe word. Or leave the door open.” “If I use my safe word?” “Then we’re done.” She could barely breathe. “So I have no choice.” “You always have a choice. And if you refuse a task, you’re free to leave. And about those other things…there’s an enema bag next to the tub. Give yourself one.” She felt all the colour drain from her face. He stood and rezipped his trousers. “I’ll be making use of you anally in…” He checked his very expensive timepiece. “Half an hour. Better get prepared.” “I’ve never had an enema.” “I’ll be happy to give it to you.”

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She shook her head. He bent to remove her nipple clamps, and she cried out as the blood flow returned to the constricted little peaks. “Run along,” he told her. “Like a good sub.” He pocketed the clovers. “My sub.” She rose and crossed to the en suite bathroom, and she debated whether or not she wanted to leave the door open. They’d already done things she’d never before imagined, but this? Then, mercifully, she heard noise from the television. She could do this. Had to do it. If she wanted the next lesson in S&M 101. She sat on the closed toilet lid and seriously asked herself that question. Did she want the next lesson? Or had she had enough? They’d already had sex like she’d never before experienced. Her entire body hummed with awareness and tingled with pain, from the tiny bite he’d given her earlobe to the way her pussy lips still throbbed slightly from the clamps and the way her nipples were still hard. She swore she could feel a pulse in them. Her rear smarted, something she was highly aware of now that she was sitting on it. There was a lot more to S&M than she’d ever thought possible. It was about more than just having your behind warmed and getting ridden hard. It was about subjugating your own needs. And alternately, it was about being freer for the experience. It was mentally and physically draining. And it was exhilarating. “Julia?” She gasped and looked up. “I didn’t hear you.” Trevor relaxed against the jamb, completely at ease. His shirt was still unbuttoned, giving her a view of his broad, sexy chest. “You’re sexy, you know that?” she asked. “As long as you think so. That’s all that matters.” Her hand shook as she ran her hand through her hair. “I’m not sure I can do this,” she admitted. “There hasn’t been anything so far that you couldn’t handle. There will never be anything you cannot handle. You’re a sub. My sub.” She wanted to be in his arms, soothed by his strength. He came into the room. It was gorgeous, though small. The tub was claw-footed, and there was a pedestal sink. The floor was made of tiny black and white octagonal shaped tiles

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in a hypnotic, geometric pattern. Fluffy, oversized white towels hung from silver racks. And she couldn’t take her gaze from him. With him in here, the room seemed to shrink to a quarter of its original, already-small size. He turned on the shower’s faucet. And matter-of-factly, while she watched, he picked up the hated enema bag. He turned on the sink faucet and filled the bag with warm water. Instead of halfway like he’d told her, he filled it all the way full. “Uhm…” Steam billowed in the room and he hung up the bag, then drew the shower curtain closed. He stripped. His clothes landed on the floor. “I’d intended for you to undress me with your own hands,” he said. “But you can do that tomorrow.” Tomorrow. That meant he planned to see her again. She didn’t move, didn’t say anything. Instead, she just sat there mesmerised. He stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain. “Relieve your bladder,” he said. “Then join me in here.” He was uncompromising, as she’d expect her Dom to be, as she needed him to be. But he was sensitive to the fact she was nearly freaking out. He wouldn’t give in and mollycoddle her. And she appreciated it. She either had to play the rules by his game, or she’d have to find someone else. And after this… Was there anyone else? She smelled soap in the air and she wanted him to lather her body. She surrendered. She wasn’t going to struggle. Struggling would only keep her from what she wanted. And she wanted Trevor. Julia stood and lifted the toilet lid and did what she was told, like a good little sub. Then she pulled back the curtain and joined him in the tub. For the first time, she saw him in his naked glory. He was a sexy, soapy mess. He had the shapeliest butt she’d ever seen on a man. His chest was broad, his hips were slim, and a swath of hair arrowed towards his jutting cock. Hers.

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Possessiveness forked through her. He was hers. Her Dom. Her man. “I’m proud of you,” he said. “It’s not easy to be so compliant.” The approval soared through her. She realised she’d do anything for him. Trevor pulled her against him and kissed her deeply. “Isn’t this against the rules?” she asked. “My game. My rules.” “I like this one. Class can be in session anytime, Sir Dom.” Like a lover, he washed her. He even got on his knees to wash her between her legs and then all the way down to her feet. “Turn around.” He lathered her shoulders and back, and then her buttocks. “On your toes,” he told her. When she rose onto the balls of her feet, he slipped a soapy hand between her cheeks. Instead of protesting, she braced her hands on the wall. With a finger, he slowly penetrated her anally. In. Then out. In a bit more. Out again. She started to enjoy the feeling. She was tight, but it wasn’t as painful as she’d anticipated. She started to arch her back so he could penetrate deeper. “It’s good, so good.” She gasped. “You’ve got ten minutes to be face down on my bed.” He kissed her nape and got out of the shower. She all but stamped her foot in frustration. She wanted his possession. She hurried through the horrible, beastly enema. ”Good girl,” he said when she rejoined him. He was still naked, and there was no denying the erection that led him around. The fact he was so hot for her turned her on. She couldn’t help but notice the international news report was blasting from the telly. “You’re not asleep in front of the news,” she said with a cheeky grin. “Good thing you learned to move your hips. Saved me from a crick in my neck from sleeping on the settee.” He grabbed a tube of lube from the coffee table and all teasing vanished. “Face down on my bed,” he reminded her.

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Swallowing that knot of fear, she did. “Would you like clamps?” “You’re loony, right?” He laughed. “Thought you might want the distraction.” “I want it to be over with.” “This is about trust, sub. You’ll be restrained.” She’d made her choice to stay, but she hadn’t known he had planned to increase the stakes one more time. He would probably always do that to her, she realised. He would always keep her guessing, always provide the unexpected. With a shiver, she crossed the floor and crawled onto her tummy on the bed. She fought to keep her breathing steady as he drew her right hand towards the headboard and secured it with a cuff. “You’ve been tied up before,” he said, evidently remembering their earlier conversation. “Not like this. Not by my Master.” He cuffed her second wrist. “Raise your pelvis.” It was difficult to move at all, but he helped lift her in order to slide a pillow beneath her stomach. “Use your safe word.” “No,” she said. ”I want you.” But to tell the truth, she was terrified. She was tightly secured; she couldn’t pull out her hands like she had the other time she’d been tied up. She heard the roar of her pulse pounding in her ears. Instead of him spreading her cheeks like she expected, he delivered a soft spank. She wiggled around. His next spank was equally delicious. The third was divine. His hand found her heated core, and in seconds, he’d brought her to fevered anticipation. Then, while she was humming from the various sensations, he poured a dollop of lube right near her anus. “You are doing fine,” he told her. “Relax. Don’t clench up.” Then, with long strokes, he worked the lube deep inside her. He took the time to tease her clit and slide inside her pussy, too. And he alternated it all with dizzying spanks.

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She was ready to explode when he inserted a second finger. “Trevor!” “Just relax.” “No…I mean, I want to come from that.” “From my fingers in your arse?” “Yes.” She hissed out the s. “Could you be any more perfect?” She couldn’t believe the sensations. Yes, it hurt a bit, but once he got all the way in and she grew accustomed to the feeling of being stretched, she rather liked it. “Take me,” he commanded. She felt his cockhead at her entrance. And then he started to drive his thick penis inside her. Cold fear chased through her. She struggled against her bonds. “Stop it.” “It hurts, damn it.” “Control yourself, sub.” With his strong palms, he spread her apart for his penetration. “It’s no different than my fingers,” he said. It was. Much more painful. Not even the same experience at all. ”Trust me, Julia. Trust me enough to do as you’re told. Control your breathing. You can do this.” He massaged her buttocks, spreading her farther and farther apart. She bit out a cry of pain. “Easy,” he told her. But he was relentless, and she appreciated it. She didn’t want to fail. With infinite patience, he positioned himself at her tightest entrance again. He then told her, “Don’t hold back on your orgasm.” “I’m not going to have an orgasm. It hurts too much.” “We have a rule…” “Yeah, yeah. S&M 101 rule number four. No pouting.” He held her wide and said, “Bear down.” “Hurts.” “Bear down.” She did, and she forced herself to breathe deep. All of a sudden he was in, all the way. This time, it was he who groaned. “Damn, Julia.”

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The knowledge that she could be so pleasing made the experience all the more exhilarating. “Don’t hold back on your orgasm,” she teased. “You’re wanting another spanking then, are you?” He stroked in, then back out. Now that she’d caught her breath again and her anal opening had been spread so wide, she accepted him, all of him. She felt him orgasm only seconds later, and his jism spilled deep inside her bowels. Then, surprisingly, she came. She’d shared something unique with him. They’d done things, lots of them actually, that she hadn’t done with anyone else. She trusted him in ways she trusted no other. She hated for it to end, either now or in a week. It’d be a long six months, even a year, until she saw him again. So, well, now what? “Don’t think so hard.” He released her cuffs. “Kiss me,” she begged. He sat on the edge of the bed and helped her to turn over. “My pleasure,” he said. His kiss was hard, brutal, unrelenting, demanding…as if he owned her. “You’re frowning,” he said when they parted. Somehow she’d ended up in his lap, his cock softening beneath her. There was an intimacy they hadn’t shared before. And it thrilled her, scared her. “You do that when you’re thinking too hard. Rule number—” “Five,” she said, “of S&M 101. Don’t think too hard.” He laughed. “I’ve been considering a move to our Stateside division.” She feathered back her wayward hair with her fingertips. She was trembling, and she didn’t know why. “I’ve broken Dom rule number one,” he told her quietly, his blue eyes searing into her. “Doms have rules, too?” “I do,” he said. He captured her hands and stroked his thumbs across the wrists he’d bound. “I’ve become attached to a sub. And I don’t do that unless I want a serious relationship. I’m talking 24/7.” “What?” She swallowed. It was a lot to think about, especially so quickly. But she knew she wouldn’t last long away from him.

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“We’ll finesse the details later. But now that I’ve found you and tasted your sweet submission, I’m not letting you go.” His dominance grounded her, and she was hungry for more. He caught her around the neck and drew her down, towards him. She surrendered, surrendered because that’s what she wanted. “Sub rule number one,” she said. “Once you find the perfect Dom, let him think you’re a sub, when really, you’re the one with the power.” “Is that right?” “Yep.” She grinned. “Right, then.” Before she could even think, she was pinned beneath him, pressed into the mattress. “I think it’s time, lovely submissive, to move on to S&M 102.” He leaned in for a domineering kiss and she said, “I thought you’d never suggest it, Master.”

About the Author Born in Northern England and raised in the Wild West, Sierra Cartwright pens book that are as untamed as the Rockies she calls home. She's an award-winning, multi-published writer who wrote her first book at age nine and hasn't stopped since. Sierra invites you to share the complex journey of love and desire, of surrender and commitment. Her own journey has taught her that trusting takes guts and courage, and her work is a celebration for everyone who is willing to take that risk. Email: [email protected] Sierra loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totalebound.com.

Also by Sierra Cartwright Naughty Nibbles: Fed Up Naughty Nibbles: This Time Walk on the Wild Side

GETAWAY GIRL Lisabet Sarai

Dedication To Ashley, my resource for all things British

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Chapter One

Be careful what you wish for. Peg’s mum used to tell her that. It was the standard response whenever Peg wandered off into one of her daydreams. You never knew whether you’d really enjoy all those things you craved, riches or fame or adventure. Every dream had its price. Mothers do have a way of being right. Look at Peg’s situation now. She lay on a pile of burlap bags scattered over the floor of a commercial van. Her wrists were tied behind her back with grocery twine. Her ankles were bound together in a similar manner. A handkerchief stuffed into her mouth effectively prevented her from making any sound. Seated opposite her, cross-legged, was a man with a gun. All she had wanted was to get away from the soporific quaintness of Kirkby Malzeard, just for a while. Some new sights, a bit of fun, some relief from her responsibilities and the boredom of day-to-day village life. Now look at her, a hostage in the custody of desperate criminals. Trussed up like a turkey under the watch of a gorgeous but obviously dangerous man whose name might or might not be Lionel, whose devilish smile made her insides quiver like pudding, who pretended to be kind but who never for a moment took his eyes off her body or his hand off his revolver. Peg contracted her arm muscles and discreetly tried to pull her wrists apart. If anything, the loops of twine grew tighter, biting into her flesh. “I wouldn’t recommend struggling,” said Lionel, his grin broader than ever. “You’ll do yourself damage.” He seemed to be right, just as Peg’s mum had been. Peg flopped over onto her side and brought her knees towards her chest, trying to find a more comfortable position. Her skirt rode up around her thighs. The burlap scratched against her bare skin. Lionel’s eyes narrowed at the view, and his breath quickened. He’s turned on, Peg realised. He fancies me. Fear lanced through her. She was a helpless captive. He could do whatever he wanted.

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It was strange. The thought was more thrilling than terrifying. Not that he could do much now in any case, with her legs bound together tight, and the two of them lurching back and forth as the van bounced along the country road. Later— well, she would worry about later when it arrived. “Hey, Jack. Any idea how close we are?” The driver grunted. “Haven’t got a clue. Ask her, why don’t you? She’s the native.” Lionel leaned forward, close enough that Peg could smell his forest-scented after-shave. “If I take out the gag, do you promise not to scream? It wouldn’t do you any good anyway, but the sound of a girl yelling always puts me off.” The handkerchief seemed clean and Peg could breathe through her nose, but the gag was hardly comfortable. She nodded. Her captor obliged her by removing it and stuffing it back into his breast pocket. “So, how far is it to your gran’s cottage?” “I can’t really say without knowing where we are, can I? Have we passed the Grewelthorpe crossroads?” “Jack?” “It was too dark to read the signboard, but there was a four-way junction about two miles back.” “What about the railway? We should have crossed the rails a mile or so before.” “Yeah, there was a grade crossing, I think.” “It should be about two more miles, then. There’ll be a sign on the left for Lawton Dale. Turn there; the lane dead ends at the cottage.” Despite Peg’s instructions, Jack almost missed the turn. He swung the van wildly at the last minute, tossing his passengers around in the back. Peg’s body was thrown almost into Lionel’s lap. Her cheek brushed the fine wool of his slacks, a relief after the harsh burlap. She came to rest with her face at the same level as his crotch. She could see evidence of the effect she had on him. The fabric formed a distinct peak at his groin. She could see the gun, too, where he had dropped it when the van swerved, but what could she do? With her hands and feet tied, she was crippled. His scent surrounded her, the fancy cologne mingled with musky sweat and a hint of tobacco. It muddled her thoughts. Peg fought to slow her heartbeat, tried to ignore the

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tightening pressure in her nipples and the dampness between her legs. He’s the enemy, she told herself. Remember that. Don’t let him get to you. But when he grasped her forearms to help her right herself, she couldn’t suppress the shiver of excitement that ran through her. He felt it, too. He searched her face, trying to read her. She composed her features into a bland mask. He shrugged and picked up the revolver. “There it is,” called Jack from the front. He whistled. “Damn, this looks like a great hideout.” The side door squealed as Jack pulled it open. “Come on, let’s get the goods inside.” Lionel handed out the two kit bags that he’d been leaning against. Jack could hardly lift them. “What about her?” Jack stuck his head into the van and leered at Peg. “Well, I don’t think that we need her anymore, do we? Now that we’re safe and snug here in the middle of nowhere.” Peg swallowed hard, fear slamming into her gut. “Well, you don’t know where the key is, or how to start the generator, or the trick to getting the well pump working. Plus I imagine you’re hungry, but you’re not really the type to cook for yourselves, are you?” “What’s the rush?” asked Lionel. “She could still be useful. We can get rid of her any time she becomes inconvenient.” He extracted a folding knife from his inside jacket pocket and flicked it open. For an instant, Peg thought that he was about to do her in then and there, but he merely reached down and sawed at the twine binding her ankles. “She might know where we can get another vehicle, for one thing. The tit-heads are going to have an all points out on this one.” “Actually, my gran had an ancient Morris. It should still be in the shed, though no one’s driven it for years. I might be able get it going.” Peg suddenly remembered her dad, letting her take the auto out onto the country lanes when she was learning to drive, over her mum’s loud objections. So long ago, when she was sixteen, when they were all together. Before. She shook her head, scattering the tears that had gathered in her eyes. “Are you all right, Margaret?” Lionel had obviously noticed her damp eyes. He helped her out of the van. Her legs wobbled after her long confinement. She could hardly put one foot in front of the other. “Oh, peachy. I love being roped, gagged, dragged off, threatened—the key’s above the lintel, on the right—I can’t imagine anything better.”

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“Well, darling, I have to say that you looked pretty fetching in those bonds. I may very well tie you up again after dinner, just for fun.” Peg glared at him. Lionel grinned back, the same knowing grin that had drawn her to him when they first met. Was it really only yesterday? And now it was having the same effect, melting her even as she tried to remain furious and cold. When he bent to kiss her, she couldn’t help herself. She simply dissolved.

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Chapter Two

Peg sighed and wiped the rag across the bar for the hundredth time. It was an even quieter night than usual in the King’s Arms. Most of the village was off at the town pitch cheering the match against Hazelton Grange. They’d come in later, quarrelsome and thirsty, and then she’d have plenty to do, but right now, the pub was empty. She put her favourite Madonna CD on the player and turned to polish the glasses yet again. Henry was adamant; she had to look busy. She couldn’t read, or watch the telly. Even when there were no customers to serve, the barmaid had to be ready and available. He checked up on her from time to time, so she didn’t dare disobey, though tonight he was probably watching football like everyone else. “Last night I dreamed of San Pedro…” Peg loved this song, the Latin rhythm and the images of tropical paradise. How she dreamed of getting away herself, to some place beautiful and exotic, full of white sands, turquoise waters and bronzed men with smouldering dark eyes. With its stone church and medieval market square, Kirkby Malzeard was a lovely village, a picturesque historic jewel set among the rolling emerald fields of North Yorkshire. Ultimately however, it was boring. She had grown up here. She knew every soul in town, every family drama, every scandal—not that a village this size had many scandals, of course. As the barmaid in the town’s only pub, she was up on the latest news—who was pregnant, who was ill, who was planning to leave for greener pastures in the city, or abroad. If only she could escape, just for a few weeks, even a few days… She had managed to get away, once. She’d gone to college in London, where she’s studied commercial art and dreamed of a career in advertising. The accident ended all that. She’d rushed back to Kirkby Malzeard for the funeral, and to take care of Jen. It had been a rough three years, but surely things would get better soon. Jen was fifteen now. It wouldn’t be long before she was ready for college herself. Then perhaps Peg would be free to follow her muse again.

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The bell on the front door jangled. Peg turned from her work to see who had entered, and sucked in her breath. It was stranger, a tall, elegantly dressed, exceptionally handsome man with curly chestnut hair and a pale complexion. He looked around the room, clearly appreciating the huge smoke-darkened beams and stone-studded walls, before sauntering over to the bar. “’Evening, sir. What can I get you?” Peg tried to assume her hearty barmaid manner, but she felt oddly nervous. “A pint of best, please.” He glanced around the pub again. “This place looks ancient.” “The old King’s Arms burned to the ground in 1610. This new pub was built on the same site.” “Amazing. The way that history surrounds us, even in the twenty first century.” “Yes, sir.” Peg felt uncharacteristically stupid, wanting to impress this man and not having the first notion of where to begin. “Like last week’s discovery of the Viking cache. By some farmer ploughing, wasn’t it?” “Yes, James Holbern, out in Dallowgill. He was in here the next day, buying drinks for everyone. You would have thought that all the silver and gems belonged to him personally!” The stranger laughed, a warm, ripe sound that turned Peg’s earlobes burning red. “It must have been incredibly exciting. All the weapons, the jewels, the precious metals. Worth a king’s ransom, I gather. But the British Museum will be taking charge of the hoard, or so I read.” “They’re scheduled for the day after tomorrow. Coming with armoured cars, the whole deal.” He sipped his brew. “Why did it take so long?” “Ah, you know, paperwork and negotiations and such. The village would have loved to keep some of the artefacts for our local museum, but the government wouldn’t have it. They claim we’ll get back a chalice and one or two coins, after they’ve been catalogued. But we have to be responsible for the insurance.” “Where are they keeping the hoard in the meantime?” “The Mechanics Institute Hall is the only building that’s even slightly secure. We’ve got two police officers here, and we’ve borrowed two from Ripon. They’re watching around the clock.” “I imagine the poor officers will be relieved when the cache is taken away.”

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“No doubt. Poor Rodney Sikes normally spends his evenings here at the Arms, but he’s been on night duty for the last week. It must be a real sacrifice for him. Not that it’s likely there’d be any trouble, of course. Kirkby Malzeard’s not exactly a hotbed of crime.” Peg’s customer licked a bit of foam from his lips. They were plumper than normal for a man. She was startled to find herself imagining what it would be like to kiss them. Struggling for composure, she forced the thought away. No daydreams at work. “What are you doing here, if I might ask?” “Me? Oh, I’m a journalist. I’m doing a story on the find and its historical implications.” Peg felt a twinge of suspicion. “The press conference was yesterday.” “My car broke down halfway from London. I spent last night in a town even tinier than this one.” His smile was charming, apologetic. Peg’s uneasiness melted away. He leaned towards her across the bar, putting his hand over hers. “That’s why I appreciate your help, in giving me the information I need.” His skin was warm and smooth, none of the calluses of a manual labourer. Not like the farmers Peg had occasionally dated here, before she gave up on finding a man in her home village. He ran one fingertip up and down in the sensitive crease between Peg’s thumb and forefinger. The light touch was enough to turn her nipples to aching knots and trigger a throbbing between her legs. She caught a hint of his scent, a balsam-laced after-shave or cologne that somehow conveyed both masculinity and refinement. His forefinger ventured higher, stroking the back of her wrist, a gesture both delicate and bold. Her pussy clenched as though he were massaging her down there, instead of merely brushing a casual finger across her hand. She stared at the bar, blushing, angry with herself for being so susceptible. Finally, she managed to raise her head and meet his eyes, which were a stormy hazel colour. “What paper are you from?” “Oh, I write for an upmarket travel rag. I doubt that you would’ve heard of it. This story should enhance the romance and mystery of your already delightful village. I expect you’ll see a surge in tourists after publication.” “You should interview Peter Lofthouse. He’s been mayor for the last dozen years.” “I have the feeling that I’m talking to a real authority right now. Lived here a long time, haven’t you?”

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She bristled. How did he know that? Maybe because she seemed such a country dolt. “I spent some time in London, but I had to come back. Family problems.” “Sorry to hear that—” He scanned her chest, seeking a name tag. Peg felt as though he were fondling her breasts instead of just looking at them. Could he see the swollen tips, pushing up through her soft green jumper? “I’m Peg,” she said, snatching her hand from his and reaching for the bar rag. “And you?” He bowed slightly. “Lionel Hayes, at your service. But I’ll bet you’re really Margaret, right? It’s much more musical, more sophisticated. It suits you.” He was clearly trying to flatter her. She didn’t mind. “Lionel—sounds like an aristocrat playboy from the nineteen twenties. Nobody’s named Lionel anymore.” The stranger laughed again, soft and intimate, sending the blood rushing again to Peg’s cheeks as well as to other body parts. He drained the last of his pint, then reclaimed her hand. “I’ve got to go. But it’s been pleasure to meet you, Margaret. Perhaps I’ll mention you in my article.” Peg didn’t want him to leave. She squeezed his hand, amazed once again by his smooth skin and long, artistic fingers. He didn’t pull away. “Are you sure that you don’t want another drink?” “Sorry, but I can’t. I’ve got to meet someone.” Releasing her hand at last, he fiddled in his pocket, then dropped a fiver on the bar. “Keep the change.” “Um—thank you!” Peg hoped her smile would communicate how much she had enjoyed his visit. “Come back again for another pint, if you get the chance. On the house.” “I definitely will do that. If I get the chance.” The door chimes jangled, and he was gone. The low-ceilinged old room seemed darker without her visitor’s bright face and lively voice. Mechanically, Peg rinsed his glass and returned it to the rack. Heavens, but he was attractive! So different from the men here, suave, worldly, literate and charming. A bit of a flirt, but that was a nice change, too. Peg remembered the way he had stroked her hand. She imagined what it would be like to feel those sensitive fingers playing across other parts of her anatomy. All at once she couldn’t bear the constriction of her tights. Her pussy felt too hot, too swollen to bear. It’s a warm night. I’ll just nick into the loo and get them off. She had at least

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another half hour before the match was over and the football fans began to converge on the Arms. Feeling only faintly guilty, she hung the ‘Pub Closed’ sign on the oak door and hustled off to the Ladies, already picturing what Lionel would look like naked.

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Chapter Three

“Earth to Peg! Come in, Peg!” Jen giggled at Peg’s distraction. “You haven’t heard a word that I’ve said for the last ten minutes.” Peg looked up from her corn flakes. “I have so! You were talking about the talent show, and how you weren’t sure whether you should try out as a singer or a dancer.” “Yes, and what did I decide?” “Um—I’m not sure. My mind did wander away, for just a moment.” Peg’s sister grinned, triumphant. “See? You’re off somewhere on another planet this morning.” “I’m sorry, hon. I’m just trying to work some things out. Adult stuff that would just bore you.” Peg surveyed her teenage sibling with approval. Jennifer was a good kid. She got decent grades and as far as Peg could tell, didn’t smoke or do drugs. She was pretty, too, with same tawny blonde hair and blue eyes as Peg, but more petite. Peg was more the sturdy peasant type, nearly five ten with lots of curves. She took after her mum. Jen was their father’s child, slender and wiry. Her latest plan was to become a ballerina. Who knows, maybe she would succeed. But that was a long way off. Peg had to get her sister safely through secondary school first. The regional school had more students than the entire population of Kirkby Malzeard, and Peg knew that some of them were bad news. The school bus honked outside their gate. Jen drained her orange juice, grabbed her backpack and bent to kiss Peg on the forehead. “Got to run! Be careful. Don’t get so distracted that you walk into the bog.” “I’ll be fine. See you tonight.” Jen stamped her foot in mock frustration. “Don’t you remember anything? Tonight is Linda’s sleepover. I’ve only been telling you for a week.” “Oh, right, of course. Well, then I’ll see you tomorrow some time. Give me a call if anything comes up.” “Okay, bye!” There was another honk. Jen flew out the door, letting it bang behind her. Sometimes Jen’s energy made Peg feel old. I’m only twenty five. And when Jen’s done with school, I can start to live my own life.

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Meanwhile, there was the washing up to do and a bit of dusting, then the usual Friday grocery shopping and other errands. Perhaps she’d take a run over to the farmer’s market in Ripon. She wasn’t due at the Arms until four. Then maybe, just maybe, he’d come by again… Thoughts of the journalist haunted her. Her little escapade in the loo had brought little relief. She simmered with arousal, the slightest stimulus threatening to set it boiling. Doing her errands down on Main Street, she caught a whiff of evergreen that set her heart pounding. She whirled around, but there was no one there. She kept thinking she heard his voice, low and cultured, murmuring her name. Silly. He was probably back in London by now, although she had thought that he might want to witness the transfer of the treasure to the authorities tomorrow. Perhaps he was staying over at the Westleas cottages. She could only hope. Peg passed the day in a fog, accomplishing her objectives but on automatic pilot. She dressed carefully for work, choosing a black skirt with a stylish slit up the side, and a skyblue crepe blouse that she usually saved for Sundays. She knew that the blouse set off her eyes and made her hair look more like gold than its usual straw. Normally, she pulled her shoulder-length locks into a ponytail when she was working, but tonight she risked Henry’s wrath by letting it hang free. The September evenings were still warm. Peg decided to skip the tights. There was no sign of Henry when she arrived at the pub. For the first half hour she was busy with opening tasks, wiping down the tables, unlocking the games cabinet, getting the pastries and the other snacks out of the freezer. She checked herself out in the mirror behind the bar. Not bad at all. Around five Bill Harrow and John Oatbridge came in for a couple of pints. They insisted on sharing the details of their latest hunting excursion. Peg, of course, listened patiently and made enthusiastic comments. That was her job, after all. Rodney Sikes dropped by on the way to the Mechanics Institute and bought a steak pie for his dinner. He looked longingly at the tap as he drank his Coke and chatted with Peg about tomorrow’s pick up of the Viking treasure. “I’ll be real glad to get rid of that stuff,” he told her, shaking his head. “I’ve been having nightmares about somebody coming to nick it.” He downed the last of his soda and stood up reluctantly. “Well, time to go on duty.” He looked her over critically. “You look different tonight. Did you change something?” “Just wearing my hair in a new style.”

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Rodney nodded appreciatively. “You look nice. Really pretty.” “Thanks! Have a good night, Rodney.” “Yup, I will. See you tomorrow.” A couple more farmers stopped by on the way to supper, but by seven thirty the pub was dead again. Peg stashed the empty bottles and wiped the tables one more time, trying to stay busy. There was still a chance that Lionel would come by. The Arms stayed open till ten. Peg considered putting on a CD to cheer herself up when she heard something from the street. Gun shots? It couldn’t be, but then she heard a report again, unmistakable. She wiped her hands and headed for the door, just as it flew open, bashing the chimes against the wall. “Freeze! Don’t make a move, girlie, or that pretty face of yours will be splattered all over the mirror.” “What?… Who?” The guy pointing the gun at her was a complete stranger. He had greasy blond hair and a pointy face that reminded Peg of the rats she sometimes saw in the dustbin behind the pub. He dropped his heavy-looking duffel onto the floor and aimed the revolver with both hands. “Shut up. Now, get back behind the bar. Slowly. Put your hands on your head.” Peg couldn’t move, couldn’t think. “Now! Before I get annoyed. I just shot that idiot guard, don’t think I won’t shoot you, too.” Guard? Did he mean Rodney? Oh, God! The door chimes jangled. Peg was about to yell for help, but the scream died in her throat. Into the pub, lugging an identical bag and breathing heavily, walked Lionel. “Hey, Jack. There’s no need to talk so roughly to the lady. I’m sure that Margaret will help us. Won’t you, darling?” Everything became crystal clear. “I—you—you bloody liar! You crook!” “Now, Peg, be reasonable. I thought that you liked me.” “You slimy toad, you took advantage…” “Stow it,” Jack snarled. Lionel smiled, half apologetic, half mocking. Then he turned, put out the ‘Closed’ sign, and locked the door. “Look here, girlie, we need a place to hide out. Somewhere quiet and out of the way, where the cops won’t think to look.” Jack strode over and pressed the gun barrel to Peg’s temple. “You got any ideas?”

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Peg gave Lionel a desperate look. He shrugged. “It will go easier for you if you help us. We need to go to ground, fast.” “I can’t think with that thing pointed at my head. Tell him to put it away.” Lionel nodded at Jack, who lowered the gun but still kept it trained on her. She racked her brain, trying to come up with a plan, some way she could escape and raise the alarm. Lionel watched her, a half-smile playing on his sumptuous lips. Damn, even though she knew he was a scoundrel, he still attracted her. He reminded her, just a bit, of Gary, the wicked, red-headed teenager from the States that she’d fallen for, ages ago, at her grandmother’s place… That was it! Gran’s cabin would seem like the perfect place for them to hide. Meanwhile, she’d have the advantage of being on familiar territory. “There’s a cottage, north west of here, where we used to go on holiday. It’s been deserted for years now. It belonged to my grandmother. The country’s very wild, and it’s the only house for several miles around.” “Sounds perfect.” Lionel was trying to reassure her. “How far is it?” “I’m not sure. Less than two hours, certainly. You take the A65 from Skipton, then get onto the M6, but not for long. Most of the trip is on back roads, which is why— ” “You’ll show us,” interrupted Jack. “Bert, find some rope or something. She looks like a strong girl. We don’t want no problems with her.” Bert? Lionel disappeared into the back of the pub. Peg could hear him rummaging around in the store room. Before long he was back, holding up the ball of twine they used to secure cardboard for recycling, and a pair of scissors. “This should be acceptable. And there’s a back door and a path that leads right to the field where we parked.” Jack grunted his approval. “You tie her. Gag her, too. I’ll cover you.” Lionel motioned Peg to one of the benches. “Sit down, and put your ankles together.” Peg obeyed, moving as slowly as she could. She figured that every minute she could delay them increased the chances of rescue. The counterfeit journalist knelt in front of her and began to wind the twine around her ankles. Once again she could smell that cologne of his, the breath of fir trees on some distant mountain. Her nipples tightened. Her contempt for him did not seem to affect her physical responses.

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He hardly touched her, but every time he did, she shivered, whether from fear or desire she truly couldn’t tell. He felt it, though, and looked up, searching her face. She looked away, pointed focusing on the revolver aimed at her heart. Let him wonder. He ran his palm lightly along her calf, over her knee, along the bare skin of her thigh. “Stop!” she hissed. “How dare you?” When he did stop, though, she felt sharp regret, mingled with disgust at her own weakness. Once her feet were secured, Lionel—Bert—addressed himself to her hands. “Hurry up!” Jack barked. “The cops will be snooping around any minute!” “Okay, okay, I’m almost done.” Lionel pulled a fine linen handkerchief from his blazer pocket and folded it carefully. “Open wide.” He stuffed it into Peg’s mouth. Her senses reeled from his scent. Peg could hardly move. She certainly couldn’t stand. She noticed Lionel slipping the rest of the cord into one of the bags. Jack stuck the gun into the waistband of his trousers. “I’ll take the loot out to the van. You bring the girl.” With some difficulty, he hefted the two bags and headed out the back, leaving Lionel and Peg alone. The gag wouldn’t allow her to speak. She tried to communicate with her eyes. Please, let me go, she pleaded silently. You’ll never get away with this. Dump your creepy accomplice, set me free, and I promise you won’t be sorry. His hazel eyes softened. He understood. He cupped her cheek gently in his palm, ran his thumb over her lips. But then he shook his head. “I can’t help it. I’ve got to go through with this. I don’t have a choice.” Before Peg realised what was happening, he hoisted her bound body over his shoulder and started out to their vehicle. Lionel was as strong as he looked. He strode across the fields, seemingly unfazed by her weight. Her chest lay across his back. She could feel the muscles moving under his jacket. Her hips were pressed against his chest, while both of his hands cupped her buttocks, holding her steady. It was an ignominious position, and an intimate one. He could easily slip his hand under her skirt, exploring the softness of her thighs and the hot cavern between them that was getting damper with every moment.

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She worried that he could smell her. She fancied that her juices might leak through the front of her skirt and stain his jacket. She was terrified that he’d understand the power he had over her, and take advantage of it. She was even more fearful that he would not. When he laid her trussed up body on her back inside the van, she was ready to weep with frustration.

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Chapter Four

The ride to the cottage lasted forever. Jack drove, while Lionel—Peg just couldn’t think of him as Bert—guarded her in the back. During the second half of the journey, the rough terrain tossed her helpless body about like a rag doll. She would have bruises the next day. That is, if she was still alive. Her emotions careened as wildly, from fear to anger, from hope to self-disgust and back to terror. Underneath it all was that constant undercurrent of lust. She watched her captor covertly, trying to understand what made him tick. Clearly he was of a different class than his brutish partner. In fact, he was just as articulate and engaging now, when she knew he was a thief, as he had been the previous day, when she had believed he was a journalist. Nothing at all like the sleazy hoodlum who was his accomplice. “We did it, Bert! I told you that crummy little village would be an easy mark.” “Yes, well, you were right, I admit it. It’s unfortunate that you shot the guard, though. Armed robbery is a sufficiently serious crime. Now we’re facing attempted manslaughter.” “Yeah, well if you’d got him good and drunk, like you promised, I wouldn’t have had to pop him.” “He was drunk. He couldn’t even stand. There was no way he could have interfered.” “Well, I wasn’t taking any chances, I’ll tell you. Not for two and a half million pounds. It’s just too bad we didn’t finish the job.” “Oh? You want to be charged with murder, too?” “What does it matter? We’ll have the cash and be down in the Caribbean in just a few days.” “If we don’t get caught.” “We won’t. Our little guardian angel back there will help make sure of that.” At least Rodney wasn’t dead, Peg thought, feeling guilty for having exposed the guard’s weak spot. How could she have known, though?

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By the time they arrived, anger and determination had taken over. Peg was going to escape, and by God, she was going to make them pay for hurting Rodney, if not for her own humiliation. Then Lionel kissed her, and burned her determination away to flimsy ash. Her wrists were still bound behind her. She could not have fought him off, even if she wanted to. He grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her body against his. Her senses burst into flames. His lips were soft but not gentle. They demanded her surrender, forced her to open her own lips and admit his impudent tongue. He tasted her like a gourmet, nibbling at the corners of her smile, plunging his tongue deep into her mouth, sucking her tongue into his. She opened to him and was rewarded with bliss, a hot surge in her loins that would have made her gasp, if his mouth hadn’t stopped all sound. His hands slipped from her shoulders to her breasts. She felt her nipples peak and press shamelessly against his palms. She was helpless to resist him, and she was glad to be helpless, knowing that it might help reduce some of the guilt in the future. “Hey, Bert! Save that for later. We’ve got to get the loot stowed and check out the old auto she told us about. And didn’t she say something about food? I’m starved.” Jack strolled up as Lionel broke the embrace. He chucked Peg under the chin. “What about it, girlie? Goin’ to cook us up some tuck?” Peg tried to swallow her nausea. “I’ll do what I can. There are probably some tins in the cupboard. But I can’t do anything with my hands tied.” “Get inside, then we’ll loosen your hands. At least till after we eat.” Jack locked the door from the inside and pocketed the key. Lionel played a torch around the dark room. It smelled musty and damp. The chintz-covered furniture was layered in dust, but overall the place seemed to be in decent condition. Lionel cut the twine securing Peg’s wrists. She lit a candle on the stone mantel, then gave Lionel instructions on how to start the generator. They were lucky; there was still some diesel in the tank. The old equipment sputtered and shook, but finally caught. Light bloomed in the dingy sitting room. It looked almost cheery. Jack pulled the gun from his belt. “Now, get us some chow, pronto.” Peg rummaged around the kitchen area, trying to ignore him. “Come on, Jack! I really don’t think the gun’s necessary. Margaret is not going anywhere.”

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“Yeah, well, I don’t trust dames, on general principle.” “Look what I found,” called Peg. “There’s tinned sausages, spinach, and beans.” “Oh joy,” Lionel muttered. “Plus there’s a third of a bottle of whisky.” “Now that’s more like it!” Jack crowed. Peg didn’t mention the other bottle that she had located, in the cupboard above the sink. She just slipped it into her skirt pocket. “We should save the whisky for after dinner,” Lionel-Bert cautioned. “And not drink too much. Remember that someone has to keep guard over her.” “Yeah, sure. You can guard her if you want. Tie her up again.” A little thrill sped up Peg’s spine. She kept stirring the pot of mushy vegetables sitting on the electric ring and tried not to give herself away. Dinner was adequate, if not delicious. Afterwards, Peg served some of the whisky to both of the men. Lionel took one sip and spit it out. “Yech! That’s horrible. How long has it been sitting here?” “Well, the place has been empty for at least five years.” Jack drank deeply from his tumbler. “Tastes okay to me. More than okay, in fact.” He downed the rest of liquor in a single gulp. “Gimme some more, girl.” Lionel gave his a stern look, but Jack paid no attention. Peg emptied the remains of the bottle, no more than an ounce of two, into Jack’s glass. He grabbed her hand as she turned away. “Thanks, doll. You know, you’re not half bad-looking. Maybe I’ll have a go with you, after Bert’s done, hey?” Peg shuddered. Lionel glared. Suddenly Jack’s eyes seemed to lose focus. “Right now, though, I’m feeling kind of sleepy. “ He handed Lionel the gun. “Here, you take the first watch. I need a nap.” Jack slumped down on the couch. Within sixty seconds he was unconscious, snoring loudly. Lionel stuffed the gun into his waist and leaned down to shake his accomplice. “Jack! Wake up, Jack!” The growl of Jack’s snores didn’t alter. Peg began to edge backwards. Lionel grabbed her shoulders, his fingers biting into her flesh. “What did you do to him?” “Me? I didn’t do anything.”

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The thief slid his hands down and gripped her wrists, trapping them. “You minx! Don’t lie to me.” Holding her wrists behind her with his right hand, he leaned over and picked up Jack’s glass. A white sludge coated the bottom. He held it up in front of her face. “Okay, okay. I dumped the remains of my gran’s sleeping pills into the whisky. It won’t hurt him. Meanwhile, while he’s asleep, I thought that you and I might talk.” Peg pressed her body up against Lionel’s, trying to be provocative while controlling her own arousal. “Perhaps I can convince you to let me go.” His grip on her wrists tightened ominously. His heat penetrated the light fabric of her blouse. She rubbed her breasts against his blazer, wishing despite her best intentions that the two of them were naked. She could feel two hard lumps poking into her abdomen, the unyielding steel of the gun, and lower down, the equally rigid bulk of his erection. A shiver ran through her. She knew that she was playing a dangerous game. “You’re not going anywhere, Margaret. For the time being, I plan to keep you right here.” Before she knew what was happening, Lionel had picked her up and thrown her over his shoulder again. She yelped in protest. His arm clamped down across the backs of her thighs. “Put me down, you—imposter!” Peg tried to kick, but her legs were effectively immobilised. She beat on his back with her fists, but he ignored her assault as he carried her up the twisty, narrow stairs to the bedroom under the eaves. Despite her anger and fear, she found herself amazed by his strength. She was nearly ten stone, yet he lifted her as easily as if she’d been a child. Lionel tossed her body onto the bed. She sank into the old mattress, raising a cloud of dust that made her sneeze. Her captor turned the key in the lock, then returned to face her, grinning that outrageous, irresistible grin. “We don’t want to wake poor old Jack, do we?” He held up the hank of twine from the bar. “I plan to make completely sure that you don’t escape.” Peg was suddenly dizzy with desire. She fought for rationality. “You don’t have to tie me up. I won’t try to get away.” But he was already removing her shoes and fastening her left ankle to the iron bedstead. He paused and searched her face for a moment, then bent and ran his tongue slowly over her bare instep. The wet heat swept over her extremities, rose to her belly, turned her whole body to liquid. Peg writhed on the old bed, unable to hide her reactions.

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By the time she had recovered, her thighs were spread and both feet were bound. Lionel leaned over her, once more grasping both her wrists in his large hand. He raised them over her head, looped the twine around them, then fastened it to the metal pipes that made up the headboard. “You don’t understand, Margaret dear. I want to tie you up.” He fastened his lips on hers, those lush, soft lips of his that held such promise. Now those lips were demanding, urgent, stealing her breath, consuming her, claiming her. The kiss went on forever, yet ended too soon. Lionel nibbled at her earlobe, whispered in her ear. “That’s what you want, too.” He began to unbutton her blouse.

Peg lay still, to reduce the chafing from her bonds. She did not try to resist him, admitting to herself finally that this was what she wanted, that despite his lies and treachery she was dying for him to take her. The bonds were a convenient excuse, holding her helpless and open so that he could use her as he wished, and she could pretend that she had no choice. Lionel pulled her blouse out of her skirt and pushed it up around her armpits. Underneath, she wore her best bra, apricot lace with a plunging cleavage. Her captor flicked a finger across her swollen nipple, which poked up insolently through the lace. A bolt of electricity shot through her loins. Her hips jerked upwards. He half-smiled. “Did you wear this for me, Margaret?” Peg’s furious blush was enough of an answer. “How very thoughtful of you.” He peeled the cups away, exposing her breasts. When he moved closer, she felt his radiant heat on her bare skin. He cupped the full globes in his hands, his thumbs making lazy circles around the aching tips. “Lovely. Truly exquisite.” He bent and circled the crinkled flesh near her right nipple with his tongue, while his thumb continued to circumnavigate the left. Peg moaned, dying for him to suckle her. When he finally took the taut bud into his mouth, though, Peg was not prepared for the sensations. Some chain of nerves led directly from her nipple to her clit. The pull of his lips on her nipple was transferred immediately to that other, equally swollen bead of flesh at the heart of her sex. Without thinking she pulled her thighs together, struggling to apply the pressure that she craved. The twine wrapping her ankles bit into her skin. “Ow!”

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“You’ve got to relax, Margaret, or you’ll get hurt. Let me take care of you. Let me give you pleasure.” Lionel ran his fingers through her tangled hair, smoothing it away from her face. He looked into her eyes. Peg thought she saw a hint of genuine concern there, maybe even affection. However, his flushed face and parted lips suggested that his primary emotion was lust. “Please…” “What do you want? Tell me.” Embarrassment and desire warred within her. She could not bring herself to speak. “Do you want me to untie you?” No! she wanted to cry out, but it was as though she had been gagged again. Lionel ran his hand up her bare thigh, under her hiked up skirt. He stroked the soaked satin of her knickers, stretched across her pubis. Peg trembled, ready to explode. “You know, I don’t think that you want me to untie you. You’re much too wet.” He slipped one finger under the elastic and into her cleft, swirling it in her juicy depths for a moment before pulling out. He held his glistening finger in front of Peg’s face. She could smell the oceany scent of her arousal. New blood rushed to her cheeks, as well as to her nipples and clit. “See how wet you are.” He rubbed his fingertip over her lips, smearing her with her own scent, then bent to kiss her briefly. “Delicious. I really need to go to the source.” His face disappeared. She felt his weight on the mattress, between her splayed thighs, and his hands fumbling with her undergarments, pulling them down around her hips. “Damn!” he said with a chuckle, “I should have thought of this before I bound you. Oh well. Don’t move, now.” Peg heard a click as he opened his knife, then the tearing of fabric. “Sorry to spoil your lovely undies, but it’s for a good cause.” For an instant, Peg felt the cool autumn air playing on her bare sex. Then she felt the incredible, glorious heat of his mouth. Lionel did not tease her. He moulded his mouth to her pussy and sucked steadily. His tongue lapped at her clit, each stroke winding her tighter into an intricate knot of sensation. Just when she was certain she could not bear another touch, he would ease away briefly, lapping the dew from her folds, probing her depths, giving her a moment to breathe before he returned to build up her pleasure to new highs. Peg moaned and bucked, grinding her pelvis into his face, oblivious to the twine slicing at her ankles. Lionel ate her with renewed energy, slurping at her dripping flesh with

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obvious relish. She arched upwards, wanting more, straining towards the pinnacle, the apex of pleasure that hovered just out of reach. Her captor seemed to understand. He opened her sex with his fingers and fastened his lips on her clit, simultaneously pulling and raking it with his teeth. The bubble around her shattered. Ecstasy flooded in. New sensations blossomed wildly in Peg’s flesh. Impossible colours danced behind her eyelids. Unbearable sweetness flowed through her limbs. She drifted in a fragrant mist of ocean and evergreen, utterly relaxed, only dimly aware that her wrists were bleeding and tears were streaming down her cheeks.

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Chapter Five

Peg realised that Lionel was hacking away at the twine circling her wrists. Her ankles were already free. Now he was dabbing at her wounds with his handkerchief, like some fussy old grandmother. “God, I’m so sorry, Peg! I should have realised that the twine was too thin and abrasive…” “Never mind. It’s not important.” Peg was touched by his concern, but at the moment, she was still too lost in the bliss of her climax to feel any pain. She watched his handsome face, knotted now with worry. He was such a charming dunce, an amateur dominant and she was starting to guess, an amateur criminal as well. “I’m fine. Really, there’s no reason to be upset.” She grasped his arm. “Forget about that and come here. Lie down with me.” “But you’re bleeding. I need to find some antiseptic, and some plasters. I’ll be right back.” His distress made him more attractive than ever. Peg sat up in the bed. She stripped off her blouse, then raised her hips and wiggled out of her skirt. She wadded up both garments and threw them across the room. They landed on the chair near the dormer window. “Don’t you dare go anywhere!” “But…” “If you really want to do something for me, you’ll get yourself out of those clothes and into this bed, pronto.” She spread her thighs, treating him to an excellent view of her glistening pussy. Cupping her breasts, she began to massage both nipples, savouring the little thrills each touch sent to her lower regions. His eyes widened in surprise. Then his characteristic grin returned, transforming him back into the suave, seductive guy who had walked into her bar yesterday. “Uh—whatever you say, darling.” Peg watched him undress, more and more impatient as he got closer to being naked. Reality surpassed her imagination. He was lean and muscled, but without that over-inflated look so popular these days in men who worked out. His chest was lightly furred with

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chestnut hair. From the denser thicket in his groin, his cock rose proudly, pale and elegant as the rest of him but tipped with a rosy bulb as ripe and full as his lips. Lionel climbed on to the bed, kneeling and straddling her hips. He took her in his arms and kissed her deeply. The dynamics of his kiss had changed. No longer was he trying to conquer her. The connection was still there—his kiss still melted her to a pool of viscous lust. Now, though, she was an equal partner in the game. Her lips still fastened to his, she reached down to stroke his hardness. He moaned into her mouth. She rubbed her fingertip across the spongy bulb, smearing his pre-cum over the taut flesh. The swollen organ jumped in her palm. Her pussy twitched in sympathy. Suddenly she couldn’t wait any longer. She lay back on the bed, pulling him down on top of her. “Take me,” she demanded. “Fuck me. Now.” She felt his fabulous cock, rubbing against her outer lips. All at once, he stopped. “What about—protection?” “Have you got a condom?” He nodded eagerly, then scrambled off the bed to rifle in his pockets. Her impatience was tempered with approval for his consideration. Many men wouldn’t have cared. Back on the bed, he handed her the foil-wrapped packet. “Here. You do it. But be careful. I’m so horny I could come just from your fingers.” She rolled the thin sheath down over his glorious, smooth skin. He was flawless. She wanted to swallow him whole. However, she wanted to have him inside her even more. Once again, she lay on her back and spread her thighs wide for him. Lionel supported himself on his arms, gazing down on her. “You’re amazing,” he said. “Incredibly beautiful.” Peg grabbed his cock again. “Thanks for the compliment. But you can save that for later.” “Whatever the lady wants…” He positioned his cock at the entrance to her pussy. Gradually he slid into her, until his entire length was buried in her flesh. He was pure pleasure, filling her, completing her. For long moments neither of them moved. They held each other, each breathing the other’s scent, sensing the other’s heartbeat. Peg contracted her inner muscles, squeezing him in time with his pulse. He moaned in the same rhythm. Though it seemed impossible, she felt him getting harder.

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They lay quiet, letting the tension build, as long as they could. Before long, Lionel began to move, little thrusts that raised quivering responses in her flesh, precursors to some major earthquake. He intensified his moves, bit by bit. Finally, he was thrusting in earnest, ramming his cock into her again and again, just as she wanted, hard and deep the way she had craved since the moment she saw him. He would pull most of the way out of her pussy, leaving her empty and bereft. Only for an instant, though, before he pistoned back into her, stretching her, filling her, claiming her as his own. She loved the raw force of it, the power that she felt in him. Over and over, she was emptied then filled, opened and penetrated. Time stopped. His cock was the only reality, fucking her forever. There were no words, only the grunts and cries of animal passion. Words weren’t needed. Peg could feel him, deep inside her, in a way that seemed more than physical. Intuition told her what he wanted. She could feel his pleasure echoed in her own. She guessed, somehow, that it was the same for him. Lionel hammered at her, thrusting faster as the climax approached. Peg arched up to meet each stroke, eager, hungry, grateful. Their bodies were perfectly attuned. Peg knew when he was close, could sense the cum surging up his stalk. This time for her, there was striving, no barrier to breach. As he burst inside her, she was swept along without effort, into a thundering crescendo that left them trembling in each other’s arms. Afterwards, there was nothing to say, either, at least not for a while. Peg lay spooned against her lover’s back, content just to be close. Then her mind began working again. She remembered where she was, and why. She recalled the despised Jack, knocked out on the couch downstairs. “Lionel? Are you awake?” “Uh, yeah, sort of.” “We should get out of here.” “What? What do you mean?” “Well, we don’t know how long Jack will be out. We need to get away before he wakes up.” Lionel rolled over to face her. “I can’t just leave him. He’s my mate.” “He’s going to kill me.” Peg was quite satisfied by the grimace that this induced. “After he fucks me.” Lionel definitely looked serious now. “He’s dangerous, for you as well as for

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me. Let’s just grab the van and head back to Kirkby Malzeard. We can tell the police that he forced you into participating.” “What about the loot?” “Leave it.” “I can’t. I need the money. If I didn’t, I never would have become involved with this. I’m really not a crook, Margaret.” Peg kissed him. “I know you’re not. But why are you so desperate for this money?” He looked ashamed. “I used to have a habit. A gambling habit. Well, not a habit, now I know that it was an addiction. Back then, though, it was just a way of life. “I borrowed a lot of money—twenty five thousand pounds—from some very unsavoury characters. People who make Jack look like a choir boy. And of course, I lost it, at the tables and the tracks. That’s the way gambling is; you always think you’re about to make the strike that will wipe away all your debts and turn your future to gold. Somehow, it never happens. “I managed to put them off for a long time, years, while I recovered from my addiction. Finally, though, they gave me an ultimatum. If I don’t pay them by the first of next month, they’ve promised to kill not only me but my old mum, too. “I didn’t know what to do. So I looked Jack up. He’s an old grade school chum, though our paths have gone very different ways since. I had heard that he had done some time. I suspected that he knew something about illegal sources of funds. The robbery was his idea, and clearly not a bad one. He’s not as stupid as you might think, just hot-headed.” Damn. Peg had just had mind-blowing sex with a gorgeous, considerate guy with whom she just might be falling in love, and he turns out to be a compulsive gambler with a death threat hanging over his head. “You’re the one who was stupid, for getting involved with him.” Lionel looked stricken. “You’re right. But I really had no alternative.” “You could have gone into hiding. Assumed another identity. You seem to be pretty good at that.” “I wasn’t really lying to you, Margaret. I am a journalist. Free-lance, but still, I was basically telling the truth.” “Oh, and your name is ‘Lionel’, right, Bert?” He winced. “Lionel is my middle name. My full name is Bertram Lionel Hayes. Really.”

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The poor man looked so wounded and ashamed that Peg couldn’t stay angry. She wrapped her arms around him and drew his body to hers, noting how his cock began to swell at even this fairly innocent gesture. “We’ve got to figure some way out of this. We can’t stay here.” “No?” Lionel nibbled at her neck. “Seems rather pleasant to me.” “Until Jack wakes up, maybe, but then, as they say, the shit will hit the fan.” Lionel released her. “You’re right. Let me think.” “What were you planning to do with the treasure? You must have known that it would be impossible to sell it once word was out on the theft.” “Jack already has a fence lined up in Glasgow. Apparently there are some very wealthy private collectors who’d do anything to get their hands on these artefacts. We were going to drive the bags up there and get rid of the loot. Supposedly, Jack had arranged a price of a couple of million pounds. I’d wire my payment to the goons who are threatening me, but we’d have plenty left over. After that, we were off to Martinique. We already have the tickets, scheduled for three days from now.” Martinique. Peg had a sudden, overwhelming vision of life in a tropical paradise, with Lionel at her side. “Hey, that’s it! Why don’t we just follow through with the plan?” Lionel’s voice interrupted her images of palm trees, full moons, and languorous love-making in the warm surf. “What? What do you mean?” “We can take the treasure to Glasgow, Margaret. You and me. We’ll leave Jack behind, tied up or something. I’m sure we can manage to slow him down enough that he won’t be able to catch up. By the time he gets loose we’ll be long gone. There’s no phone here, is there?” “Not a working line.” “I’ll grab his mobile. If we take the van, he’ll be stranded. We’ll be lying on the beach drinking planter’s punch before he has a clue.” Martinique. Lionel. A new life. Peg was nearly drunk with the possibilities. “Sounds as though it might work,” she began slowly. “Of course it will work.”

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“In that case, perhaps we should get moving. We need to neutralise Jack before he wakes up, and we don’t know when that might be.” Peg started to get out of bed, but her lover grabbed her arm. She glanced down and noted, with a smile, that he was fully erect once again. He grinned at her, sending the usual waves of lust coursing through her body. “Come on, Margaret. We’re not in that much of a hurry.”

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Chapter Six

Afternoon sun filtered into the hotel room through the half-closed drapes, illumining Lionel’s face like a spotlight. His eyes were closed, his face relaxed in sleep. His ripe lips were parted. Peg could just hear his soft, regular breathing. God, he was handsome and sexy too—her pussy was still deliciously sore from the latest ravages of his enthusiastic cock. He was half-erect now. Peg feathered her fingertips along his length, barely skimming the sensitive skin. Lionel moaned and stirred, but did not wake. His cock twitched and swelled a bit more. They had both been exhausted when they had arrived in Carlisle around 6 AM. To reduce the chances that they’d be spotted by the authorities, they had decided to drive at night and avoid the motorways. It had been a slow, tense journey. That had not stopped them from making love as soon as they had checked in, before they sank into unconsciousness. Peg just couldn’t seem to get enough of Lionel’s lean body and lustful attentions. Each coupling increased rather than satisfied her hunger. With his eyes closed in sleep, his influence on her waned. He looked younger, more innocent, and more peaceful. For Peg, waking brought new worries. Were they really doing the right thing? The seductive image of life in the tropics was less vivid in the harsh light of day. Maybe escape was only a fantasy. She couldn’t bear the thought of parting from him, though. This seemed like the only way to save him. She leaned over his naked form and brushed her lips across his. “Wake up, sleepy head. It’s nearly three. We’ve got to get going if we’re going to make it to Glasgow by midnight.” His eyes still shut, Lionel wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. “What’s the hurry? We don’t want to leave before dark, do we?” Peg rolled off him, trying to keep her mind focused on practicalities. “We need to get another car, as we discussed. The car hire places probably close around five. And I’ve got to get something to eat—I’m starving!” Lionel stroked his growing erection. “I have just the thing here.”

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Peg’s mouth watered. However, she was determined to be disciplined. “Not now! Don’t you ever think of anything but sex?” She realised that she should be asking herself that question, as her pussy moistened and her nipples tightened into aching bullets. “Not when you’re around. I wanted you from the instant I walked into the King’s Arms.” Peg grew warm, remembering her own reactions, but she kept her voice matter-of-fact. “Well, now you’ve got me. But if we don’t get moving, we’re risking everything.” She got up and started looking for her clothes, flung into the far corners of the room in her earlier eagerness to be naked. “All right, you win.” Lionel rose, and padded over to the telly. The sight of his glorious body nearly undermined Peg’s resolve to be practical. “Let’s see if we’re on the news.” Peg reached behind her to hook her bra. She remembered, with a little thrill, that her knickers were in shreds back at the cottage. “Better if we’re not.” However, the dramatic robbery in picturesque Kirkby Malzeard was the lead story. There were interviews with Rodney, sitting up in a hospital bed with his shoulder swathed in gauze, and with Peter Lofthouse, who announced a thirty thousand pound reward for information that led to the recovery of the treasure. The commentator showed artist’s sketches of the suspects, based on Rodney’s descriptions. Lionel and Peg burst out laughing. Neither likeness was at all accurate. “I told Jack that the guard was completely pissed. He wouldn’t have recognised his own mother.” Peg’s mood turned darker at the mention of Lionel’s partner. Together they had lugged Jack’s inanimate body into the shed, tied his legs, and chained him by the waist to the Morris. Leaving him enough food and water for a couple of days, they padlocked the shed. The isolated location of the cottage made it unlikely that anyone would find him before they rang the authorities. That, at least, was what they hoped. “Nobody mentioned the missing barmaid, I gather.” Peg switched off the television, somehow annoyed that her absence hadn’t even been noticed. On the other hand, this might help their escape. “Looks as though they’re really on the wrong track. Maybe we can relax a bit.” Lionel came up behind her and unfastened her bra again. His hands reached around to cup her breasts, massaging them gently. Despite her best intentions, Peg couldn’t help leaning back

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into his body. His hard cock settled in the divide between her buttocks. He stroked the silky rod up and down in that warm crease while strumming her rigid nipples with his thumbs. Each touch sparked electric spasms in her pussy. “Come back to bed, Margaret. Please.” Peg allowed him to pull her back to the king sized four-poster. She was still uneasy, but she couldn’t resist his hands, his mouth, his sumptuous voice. He lay her down on her back and suckled at her swollen nipples until they were so sensitive she could scarcely bear it. Meanwhile, his fingers played between her legs, smearing her wetness over her outer lips, teasing her clit, then plunging deep into her hungry pussy. She was already close to climax—during their past encounters he had learned her body so well that he could bring her to the brink in minutes. With expert skill, he held her there, balanced on the edge, every touch waking new pleasure in her depths, but with the ultimate pleasure always a breath away. He rubbed his cock against her thigh as he pumped his fingers in and out of her pussy, faster and harder. Each stroke ended with a flick to her clit. Each brought her closer to the release she so desperately craved. His scent surrounded her, sweat and sleep and semen, mixed with the faintest hint of evergreen. It was familiar already, reassuring, yet still intoxicating. She moaned and squirmed under the relentless assault of his fingers and his mouth. She felt his cock jerk against her, and knew that he was close also. “Inside me,” she gasped. “Please, now… I want to feel you come inside me.” Lionel rolled over on his back and in one swift movement, pulled her on top of him. Peg opened her thighs eagerly. His cock slid home, deep into her pussy, where it belonged. He tensed as he entered her, struggling for control, holding back so that they could climax together. Peg sat up, her thighs straddling his pelvis. She began to ride him, up and down in long, liquid strokes. He held her hips, steadying her but allowing her to set the pace. She buried his flesh in hers, grinding against him. Her clit was so swollen and hard that it felt like a tiny penis. He arched up to meet her, forcing his cock deeper. She bore down, gripping him with her inner muscles, glorying in the feeling of fullness and connection. Lionel moved his hands to her breasts, toying with her nipples. She writhed against him. Suddenly, he jerked upwards, his muscles straining, fingernails biting into her breasts. “Come now,” he moaned. “Come, my love.”

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It might have been the force of his cum boiling into her depths, or the friction of his furred pubis against her exposed clit, or the sudden pain of his lacerating fingers. Or it might have been that word, that word that he had used so casually. Whatever the trigger, Peg soared into a spectacular climax, her body convulsing in rhythm with his. The bed whirled, spinning them into space. She clutched at Lionel, dizzy, giddy with pleasure, astonished that anything could feel so completely good, so wholly right. Peg’s mind was still spinning when she heard her mobile ring. Even in the midst of post-orgasmic ecstasy, the familiar ringtone drove a cold shaft of fear into her heart. “Jen!” She untangled herself from Lionel’s body and stumbled over to grab the phone from the dresser. “Hello. Jen?” “Hi, Peg. It’s me. I’m sorry. I hope that you weren’t too worried.” “Worried?” “At not hearing from me. We stayed up really late last night, so we slept in. Then Linda’s mum offered to take us all shopping in Harrogate. We just got back. I know I should have called, but we were having so much fun, I kind of forgot.” “Oh—that’s okay, I wasn’t worried.” That was an understatement. Peg realised with a pang of guilt that she hadn’t thought about Jen at all during the last twelve hours. “So you’re not mad?” “No, I knew that you’d call me eventually. I trust you, Jen.” “Well—in that case—can I go with Linda to her cousin Stephen’s party tonight? He’s a senior, but Linda says that he’s responsible…” “Where’s the party?” “In Ripon. Linda’s brother is willing to drive us, and pick us up after. He’s twenty. Then I’ll just stay over at Linda’s again, and be home bright and early Sunday morning.” “All right, just be careful. Remember what we talked about, right? About drinking and drugs. And about boys…” “Of course. I promise.” “Well—then have a good time. I’ll see you Sunday.” “Thanks, Peg. You’re the best.” “I love you, Jen.” “Yeah—me too. Bye!”

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Peg put down the phone. She couldn’t believe that she could be so irresponsible. How could she have completely forgotten about Jen? She’d been blinded by fear and desire, but that was no excuse. She turned towards the bed. Lionel was propped up against the pillows, looking pleased with himself. At the sight of her grim expression, though, he bolted upright. “What is it, Margaret? What’s wrong?” “I can’t do it. I can’t run away to Martinique.” “What? Why not?” “I have responsibilities, Lionel, family responsibilities. I told you. I’ve got to go home and take care of my kid sister. I’m all that she has.” Peg sat down on the edge of the bed, staring gloomily at her hands. “I have to go home.” “But what about the treasure? What about us?” “You take the treasure. Go to Glasgow. Clear your debts and get out of the country. I won’t turn you in.” Peg felt his arm slip around her shoulders. “I don’t want to go, not without you. I need you, Peg.” “Sorry, but Jen needs me more.” She shrugged off his caress. “You’ll be fine. You’ll manage to charm some other gullible young lady in no time.” “I don’t want some other young lady. I want you.” Lionel lifted her chin and turned her face to his. “I know it’s crazy, given the whole situation, but I think I love you.” He leaned to kiss her. Peg twisted away. “If you really love me, you’ll go back and turn yourself in. Give back the loot. You might go to prison, but it probably won’t be for long, given the circumstances. You can explain that it was Jack’s idea, that he was the one who shot Rodney, that he forced you to go along with the plan.” Lionel shook his head. “What about my debt to the mob? Even if I were safe in prison, which I doubt, they said they’d murder my mum, too. I’ve got to return that money I borrowed, or my life isn’t worth a sixpence.” Tears filled Peg’s eyes. The hard, painful lump in her chest threatened to emerge as a scream. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, but it seemed inevitable, one way or the other. Lionel slumped back into the pillows, equally disconsolate. Peg looked around the room, desperately seeking some solution. Bed, bureau, desk, telly, there was no help here…

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The telly! Suddenly she was filled with hope. The reward. The mayor had said that the town was offering a reward, for information that led to the recovery of the treasure. She jumped on top of Lionel and hugged him. “I’ve got an idea! I’ll take the treasure back to Kirkby Malzeard.” “What? Why?” “To claim the reward. I’ll give them some tale about how I was taken hostage but managed to escape. It will be pretty close to the truth—it might have happened that way if you hadn’t turned down the whisky.” Lionel playfully bit her nipple. A ripple of pleasure coursed through her limbs. “I wanted to be clear-headed so that I could take advantage of you.” “Well, in any case, I’m sure that I can make the story sound believable. I’ll give them the treasure, they’ll give me the reward, and I’ll give it to you so you can pay your debt.” Lionel was suddenly serious. “You’d do that? For me?” Peg blushed and looked down. She couldn’t help but notice that he was starting to get hard again. “You’re not the only one who might be in love.” “Margaret, darling. Thank you.” He folded her into a hot, sweet, endless kiss that made her tingle all over. She finally had to push him away in order to breath. “Wow! You definitely know how to show your gratitude.” “That’s just the beginning. I intend to make you very happy, Miss Margaret.” “You wouldn’t mind living in a stuffy little village like ours?” “I can’t imagine a more delightful fate. Come here, you.” Peg resisted him with difficulty. “Shouldn’t I be getting back? If I drive the van and take the motorway, I can be in the village by nightfall. The longer I wait, the less plausible my story will be.” “We have a bit of time.” Lionel rose and went over to rummage in one of the duffels. Peg watched him, mystified. “There’s always time for a good shag.” He held up a coil of white nylon rope. “Besides, you don’t have any choice. You’re my prisoner.” He pushed Peg’s body down onto the mattress. She trembled as she felt the cool, smooth rope twining around her ankles and wrists, fastening them to the bedposts. Liquid gushed from her sex, soaking the sheets. If he touches me anywhere, she thought, I’ll come.

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Lionel stood at the foot of the bed admiring his handiwork. He grinned that superior, worldly grin of his, melting her body and her heart. “Now you’re helpless, my dear. There’s no way you can escape me.” Peg sighed and closed her eyes, waiting for him to do whatever he wished. She didn’t want to get away.

About the Author I became addicted to words at an early age. I began reading when I was four. I wrote my first story at five years old and my first poem at seven. Since then, I've written plays, tutorials, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and of course, erotica. I'm the author of four erotic novels and two short story collections. I also edited the ground breaking anthology SACRED EXCHANGE, which explores the spiritual aspects of BDSM relationships, and the massive collection CREAM: THE BEST OF THE EROTIC READERS AND WRITERS ASSOCIATION. My short stories have appeared in more than two dozen print collections edited by erotica luminaries such as M. Christian, Maxim Jakubowski, Mitzi Szereto, Rachel Kramer Bussel, and Alison Tyler. In my socalled spare time, I also review books and films for the Erotica Readers and Writers Association (www.erotica-readers.com) and Erotica Revealed (www.eroticarevealed.com), and feature as a Celebrity Author at Custom Erotica Source (www.customeroticasource.com). My lifelong interests in sex and the written word became serenditipitously entwined nine years ago when I read my first Black Lace book by Portia da Costa. Her work inspired me to take my fantasies out of the closet (and the private email files) and expose them to the world. The rest, as they say, is history (although granted, no more than a minor footnote!) I've always loved traveling; my husband seduced me in a Burmese restaurant by telling me tales of his foreign adventures. Since then I have visited every continent except Australia, although I still have a long travel wish list. Currently I live with him and our two exceptional felines in Southeast Asia, where I pursue an alternative career that is completely unrelated to my creative writing. Email: [email protected] Lisabet loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totalebound.com.

Also by Lisabet Sarai Raw Silk Incognito Rendezvous

ALL ROADS LEAD TO RIPON Barbara Huffert

Dedication For those who helped me understand. You know who you are.

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Crocs: Crocs, Inc.

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Chapter One

See Jane. See Jane run. Did it count as running when the reason for fleeing the country was self-preservation? Jane Templeton had been asking that question for a week and a half, ever since she’d gotten on the plane in the Pittsburgh airport and left her old life behind forever. She wasn’t sure where she’d end up starting over but it certainly wouldn’t be anywhere near Pittsburgh. She’d throw herself off a roof before she let herself get sucked back into that life again. Jane took a calming breath and stared blindly out the train window. She shouldn’t be thinking about that now. She had almost three months to come up with a plan and there was no way she was going to waste the entire time dwelling on it. Not when she was finally taking the trip she’d dreamed about. True it was ten years later than originally scheduled but she was determined to enjoy it as much as possible before facing the reality of her new life, whatever that may be. Noticing the passing scenery, Jane sighed. The Yorkshire Dales. As pretty and inviting as she remembered. Soon she’d be in Harrogate, a place that held many fond memories. Unfortunately none of her friends lived there anymore but the quaint town itself still held enough appeal to draw her back even without them. The train pulled into the Harrogate station. Jane grabbed her military surplus duffel and made her way to the exit. She stepped onto the platform with a smile. She was almost there. A day in Philadelphia, six in Toronto, three in London, four planes, two trains and now just a short hike from the station to Agate’s Guest House and she would finally be able to let herself relax. She really was going to make it. All on her own. Without any major disasters. Without even getting lost. Her smile grew. See? She was competent enough to accomplish this so that meant she was more than capable of looking after herself the rest of the time too. Didn’t it? Walking along Leeds Road, Jane was more than tired, but in a good way, for the first time in what seemed like years. She’d started coming back to life four months earlier when she walked out of the Mount Lebanon house that had become more of a prison the last few years than a home. As it turned out, leaving the structure hadn’t severed her tethers as she’d

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expected. Once she accepted that, she knew the only way to truly end things with her former jailer was to put enough distance between them to make any continued harassment impractical because she knew there wasn’t a place on earth she could go where it would be impossible. There was a slim chance that having an entire ocean separating them would make it so inconvenient that it would manage to discourage him, or so she hoped. She’d left some false trails along the way and hadn’t told anyone her final destination. She’d have at least a little reprieve before he located her. Not that there was any doubt he would sooner or later. Maybe, with luck, he’d have decided it really wasn’t worth the effort and give up before then. Luck. She was definitely due for some of that since she’d had absolutely none for several years now. She shook her head. There were two things she’d never understand. One, how the man she’d lived with for almost seven years knew so little about her and two, why it had taken her so long to realise that. Jane turned the corner onto St. Georges Road and stopped to stare at her intended residence. It was a three story stone building, partly covered by ivy, definitely imposinglooking but not at all menacing. To Jane, it seemed protective and welcoming. Sighing, she shifted her bag to her other hand. It felt heavier than it had when she’d claimed it in the Manchester airport earlier, even more so than when she’d checked it in London. She knew it was an illusion, but she’d been travelling for days after months of building tension following years of stressful living. It was a small miracle that she was still standing at this point. And a major triumph. “Good evening.” The clipped greeting startled Jane from her thoughts. “Oh. Hi,” she responded, gaping openly at the impeccably dressed man by the impressive car she hadn’t noticed, even though she was standing within touching distance. With a curt nod, he got in and drove away. “Wow,” she whispered when she finally managed to move from the spot, long after he’d gone. When she’d called from London about availability, Jane only reserved the room for a week since it was sight unseen. The inside made her feel instantly comfortable so she asked about extending her stay to two months when she checked in. After a lengthy assessment, her request earned her a very enthusiastic reception from the owner, Mrs. Agate. Her room assignment was switched from the second floor with shared facilities to the third with a private bath. Apparently she’d passed some unspoken test which rated what she was sure

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was an upgrade at a reduced rate. If her hunch was correct, her stay in the guest house now also included a tour guide, local historian and pseudo-mom. Jane hadn’t revealed anything other than the required personal details, but she suspected that it was only a matter of time before Mrs. Agate knew everything there was to know about her. Not that the woman was blatantly nosey. It was more that she was so peppy and outgoing with her infectious cheerfulness, that Jane suspected she wouldn’t be able to resist the standing invitation for a cup of tea and a bit of chat once she had her bearings. She’d probably still be downstairs if she hadn’t pleaded exhaustion and promised to join her the following afternoon.

“Who is she?” “Who is who?” “The girl. With the horrendous purple shoes.” “Why are you asking?” “Don’t play games. Not tonight. Just tell me.” A tense pause. “Please.” Laughter. “I shouldn’t since you’re a total sod, not even saying cheers before you started in.” “Right, sorry. And hello. Now who is she?” “American. From Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Jane Templeton.” “And?” “And what? You asked who she was and that’s what I told you.” A tired sigh. “Fine. She’s here for two months. Is that what you wanted?” “Two months! Perfect.” “Perfect for what, if you don’t mind my asking?” “No time for that now. I’ll ring you soon. Night. And thank you.” The call was the start of what became a nightly routine. The bulk of the conversation focused on two main questions. Had she commented and what were her plans. At times, the answers generated more inquiries but there was never anything said that didn’t pertain to Jane.

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Chapter Two

“Hello,” Jane called, peeking into the kitchen. “Do you have a minute?” “Of course, luv,” Hettie Agate replied. “Come through. I was just having some tea. Join me for a cup?” “Yes please,” Jane accepted as was habit upon returning most afternoons. “Be back in a second.” “What have you got there?” “For you,” she announced, holding out a large bunch of daffodils that were just beginning to open. “To thank you for your kindness.” “Janey,” Hettie gasped. “You didn’t need to do this.” “I know, but I wanted to.” “Then thank you. They’re lovely. What a sweet child.” Hettie separated the stems into several vases. “I’ll put some on that stand by the door and some on the landing. And this one is for my room. You must have some for yours too.” “I already know not to argue, so even though they’re for you I’ll take one in that bud vase,” Jane grinned. “I took a walk after I left St. Mark’s and couldn’t resist since you mentioned that daffodils are your favourite when we were in York the other day.” “I’m going to have to watch what I say around you from now on,” Hettie declared. “Oh please don’t feel that way. You’re so nice and I’m sure I’ve been getting special treatment. How often do you open up your kitchen like you have? And I bet you don’t act as tour guide for most people who stay here.” “Well, that’s true but I’m enjoying it. I haven’t walked on the wall or wandered around the cathedral in ages. Now tell me about St. Mark’s. Is it as you remember?” “Yes and no. The church itself is but it wasn’t the same without Reverend Turner. Not that there’s anything wrong with the new vicar.”

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“I understand.” Hettie patted her hand. “Going back to a place you’ve visited before is like that. No matter how things remain the same there are always some changes too. A new vicar is certainly significant.” “Mm,” Jane agreed absently. “Hettie?” “What is it?” “Nothing. Probably. Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure I’m just paranoid.” “About what? You can tell me.” Jane hesitated for an instant. “Um, okay. It’s probably just my imagination or coincidence or something but I keep seeing this man.” “The same one?” “I think so. Everywhere I go. Even Friday when we were in York.” “Really? Why didn’t you point him out to me then?” “Because I wasn’t sure. He didn’t stick around like he usually does,” Jane paused. “What do you mean?” Hettie encouraged, studying her lodger closely. “Well, it’s like he’s waiting for me. Or following me maybe. But not really. I mean not in a scary way. He’s just there wherever I go. Sometimes he says hello. Sometimes he just nods as we pass. He usually seems to be watching me like he’s waiting for something.” “Maybe you should speak to him first. Maybe he’s bashful.” Jane snorted. “Not this guy.” At Hettie’s confused frown, she continued, “He’s too confident for that.” “Oh? How so? If you haven’t spoken, how can you tell that?” “Because it feels that way. He’s always dressed professionally, suit, tie, white shirt, polished shoes, the whole bit, nothing out of place. He gives the impression that he’s in control. Of the whole universe. All the time. Kind of like nothing could ever faze him, not that anything would dare to.” “How old is he? What’s he look like?” “I’m not good at guessing that but I’d say maybe around thirty. Brown hair, brown eyes. Not exactly handsome but definitely striking. He looks kind of stuffy and uptight…” “English,” Hettie supplied with a chuckle.

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“Yeah but I didn’t want to say that,” Jane admitted with a grin. “But that’s not really right. There’s something in his eyes that doesn’t fit. It’s like he knows some secret that no one else knows.” “Interesting. You say you keep seeing him?” “Yes. In fact the first time was out front, the night I got here.” “Really? I wonder if he’s from the neighbourhood. There are several I can think of who fit that description. Maybe it is just coincidence.” “Maybe. He was in church this morning too. Right behind me. I didn’t know it until the end of the service when the reverend asked us all to stand up and greet the people nearby. When I turned around there he was again. It was really strange. He shook my hand and asked my name but then ignored everybody else and left.” “Didn’t he introduce himself?” “No. He was gone too quick for me to ask.” “You’re blushing.” “I know. After we shook hands he didn’t let go right away.” “Ah.” “I wish he hadn’t disappeared the other day. Maybe you know him.” “Maybe I do.” “But if you do, why wouldn’t he have said hello?” “I don’t know,” Hettie said with a shrug. “If you see him again next time we’re out you’ll have to point him out to me straight away.” “I will.” Jane shook her head. “I’m probably being ridiculous and imagining things. He’s probably on his way to or from somewhere he always goes and it’s just dumb luck that I’m around at the same time.” She smiled. “You’ll think I’m crazy but I sort of look forward to bumping into him.” “Oh?” “Yeah. I think I’ll be disappointed if he never actually talks to me.” “Why Jane, that sounds as if you like the dark, mysterious type. Are you attracted to him?”

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Jane blushed again. “Um, well yeah. I guess I am a little. The way he keeps showing up has me wondering. I want to find out what he’s thinking.” Hettie grinned. She drained her cup. “So where are you off to next?” “I thought I’d go to Knaresborough to see Mother Shipton’s and the Petrifying Well again one day. And I’d like to go to Ripon too. When I was here for the music festival with the orchestra we did a performance in the cathedral,” Jane laughed. “We really didn’t see much of the town other than that but it seemed like we drove through it every time we went anywhere. We even joked about how all roads led to Ripon. It’s too bad the train doesn’t go there.” “There’s a coach that stops at the corner on Leeds Road,” Hettie supplied. “I’m sure I have a schedule at the desk. There should be some brochures too.” She went to the reception area and collected a few items. “Here you are.” “Ooh look,” Jane exclaimed, pouring over the pamphlets. “Ripley Castle, Newby Hall, scenic cruises on the canal. Oh I love that sort of thing.” “There’s a big do every Thursday in Market Square too. Stalls with all sorts of goodies and what not. I wish I weren’t so busy this week, I’d go with you.” “There seems to be lots to do so I’ll probably have to go more than once. You can come along next time. And I want to spend a day wandering around Fountains Abbey to see what’s been done since the last time I was here. This says they do buses to there on Sundays now but maybe I’ll walk instead so I can go any time I feel like it.” “You’re going to have a busy week again, luv. Be careful or you’ll wear yourself out.” Jane laughed. “No I won’t. I haven’t had a car in months so I’m used to walking and I love not having a set schedule.” “No car? I thought all Americans had a car.” “Most do. But, um, I had been driving a car that belonged to the guy I was living with. When I left him I couldn’t afford to buy one.” “How long ago was that?” Hettie asked. “Four months, although I should have gotten out sooner. We were together for almost seven years but the last few weren’t good.” “I’m sorry to hear that. You’re such a sweet girl. You need a man who appreciates you.”

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“Thanks but I have to admit that the problems we had weren’t all caused by him. I can be stubborn sometimes.” “That may be but if you’d been treated properly you wouldn’t have any reason to be stubborn.” “Hmm, you have a point. Anyway I’m done with that part of my life now even though Richard doesn’t think so. Part of why I came to England was to get away from him. He wouldn’t leave me alone no matter how many times I told him it was over between us. I’m sure he’ll find me here sooner or later.” “How dreadful. Don’t you worry, he won’t get by me. Is there a chance anyone else may ring you?” “Nope. I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving. My family’s gone and by the time Richard and I split up he’d chased away all my old friends so anyone I knew was through him.” “Good. Then if anyone rings asking for you I’ll tell them I never heard of you.” “Thank you, Hettie,” Jane said gratefully. “You’re welcome,” Hettie smiled and nodded at the brochures. “Now why don’t you take a closer look at those and figure out where you want to go first while I wash up?”

Hettie rinsed out the teacups and listened to Jane’s excited chatter as she read through the brochures. She should feel at least slightly guilty since she was essentially spying on the girl but there wasn’t even a twinge. She knew just how close to the truth Jane’s observations were. The man did know something she didn’t, something that Hettie knew too. Therefore, passing on what Jane said really wasn’t doing anything more than helping things along. She’d understood from the first call what was going on and approved wholeheartedly. She paused to look at the girl. She wasn’t pretty in the classic sense. Her chestnut hair was too unruly though it might be tameable if Jane ever took the time to fuss with it. Her green eyes were very expressive, sparkling brightly at the moment, tired and wary the night of her arrival. She was average height, nicely shaped and very fit, apparently from all the walking she did since she certainly wasn’t vain enough to bother with all that gym nonsense that was so popular these days. She definitely looked American with her golden, sun-kissed skin. He’d need to take her on holiday often in order to keep that warm glow. Sometimes

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there was almost a sadness to her but that would pass as soon as things were as they should be. That, however, would take some doing. He might assume everything would fall into place easily but Hettie had her doubts. Oh not that Jane wasn’t perfect, because she was. No, the problem would come from his underestimating her personality. Yes, she was a brilliant match but she had a mind of her own and getting her to see the situation could be a struggle. She sighed happily. What fun she was going to have the next few weeks watching things develop.

“She mentioned you today.” “Did she?” “Yes. She’s noticed you and how you seem to keep popping up wherever she goes. Why did you run off in York last week?” “I’m not ready for her to make that connection yet. I want to introduce myself.” “Then why didn’t you do that today in church?” “That isn’t how I want to do it. What else?” “She told me a little about the chap she left behind.” Hettie repeated what Jane had said. “Where’s she off to tomorrow?” “Knaresborough on the 10:10 train. And then Ripon later in the week.” “Good,” he stated firmly, hanging up without another word.

He put down the phone and smiled. Finally she was coming to Ripon. His town. It was time to approach her, to speak openly with her. Soon she would understand and then realise that her place was with him. His hand dropped to his lap, covering his stiffening cock. Every time he thought of her he got hard. The image of her there had him aching with need. He freed his erection from his trousers. Having Jane in his house would make it a home. Not that there was anything significantly wrong with it as it was. It just needed a woman’s touch. As did he. He grasped the base of his cock and slowly drew his fingers to the tip, squeezing pre-cum from it. Using his palm, he spread it over the knob.

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Hopefully Jane would want to be there waiting for him when he arrived home each evening. He could picture her, welcoming him with a kiss, sharing details of their days, joining him in his study after they’d discussed the most important things. He’d have to keep it warmer than he had in the past so that Jane wouldn’t be chilled when he ordered her to strip off her clothes. The hand on his cock moved faster as the mental image formed. Judging by the fit of her jeans she’d have the prettiest heart-shaped arse, perfect for spanking. He’d have her disrobe slowly as he watched. Then he’d have her drape herself over his lap. He’d caress her softness before swatting it. He was certain her cheeks would be a perfect fit for his hands. He couldn’t wait to see her flesh turning pink from his attention. Once Jane was squirming, he’d let her slide to the floor to kneel between his thighs. His cock would be throbbing as she asked permission to withdraw it. He increased the pressure of his strokes. Her expression would be needy and eager to please as she begged to suck his cock. Of course he’d allow her to. He’d use his hands on her head to guide her even after she learned what he liked best. Firmly but not forcefully just to remind her he was in control. The thought of Jane’s lips engulfing his cock made it swell. Her mouth would be warm and wet. He wondered how experienced she was. Would she be able to swallow all of him or would she need time to adjust? Part of him hoped she could but another part of him hoped she couldn’t. He was more than willing to give her as many opportunities as it took for her to learn to accommodate him. His fingers tightened. His hips were lifting from the chair. Jane’s hot mouth would slide up and down his cock, over and over again, loving every bit of it. The only question would be whether to let her suck him until he came or whether he would stop her before then in order to bend her over his desk and take her pussy. Or perhaps he’d let her continue until he was about to explode and then coat her beautiful breasts. He could watch her scoop some of his cream up with her fingers for a taste before rubbing the rest into her skin. His hand was flying over his shaft. The images were too much for him to resist. With a groan he gave it one last tug and let go, filling his hand. As his breathing returned to normal he made a vow. The next time he came, Jane would be with him in person instead of just in his fantasy.

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Chapter Three

After reading the posted instructions, Jane dipped her fingers into the well and closed her eyes. She whispered, “I wish for a peaceful life in a happy home with a good man.” She sighed, staying as she was for an extra beat to let the sincerity of her wish flow into the well. She knew full well it was silly to pin her hopes on a wishing well no matter how ancient it was. After all, she had wished there once before. For the life of her she couldn’t remember what it was she’d said so she had no idea whether it had come true or not. What if it had and she’d already used up her one wish on something foolish? Chuckling since the rules didn’t specify a limit to the number of wishes permitted, she opened her eyes and shook the water from her hand. “Good afternoon, Miss Templeton,” the authoritative, masculine voice greeted Jane as she turned from the well. “Did you make a wish?” “Yeah, uh, y-yes, I did. What are you doing here?” Jane blurted out. “Enjoying a lovely spring day which are so rare in Yorkshire. Although, there have been a number of them since your arrival. Perhaps you brought the sunshine with you,” he replied in an amused tone. “Oh,” Jane sputtered, totally disarmed by his half-smile. If the man ever smiled for real she’d probably faint at his feet. “Don’t want to intrude so I’m off. Good day.” With that, he disappeared along the path. “Huh? Wait,” Jane called out too late. He was already gone and she was still standing there like a moron with her mouth hanging open. Walking slowly back to the station, Jane was glad she’d explored the town and eaten lunch before visiting the well and making her wish. Her stomach was doing flip-flops and her hands were shaking so badly after the brief conversation with her mystery man for her to do anything more than return to the train. How had he known where she was? Better yet, how long had he been watching her? Had he followed her all around Knaresborough? Was it mere chance that he’d waited to approach her until she was almost ready to head back to Harrogate? Probably not. Jane suspected his appearances were not coincidental. But what did

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he want? Why did he leave so quickly instead of giving her a moment to regain her senses and carry on a conversation? Who was he?

“You shook her up today.” “It was necessary.” “I don’t know that it was.” “I do.” “You’re scaring the poor girl.” “No. She’s intrigued, not frightened.” “When are you going to stop this nonsense?” “When it’s time. Now what are her plans?”

After two days of staying close to the guest house, Jane was thoroughly annoyed with her timid behaviour. She had ventured out, once to reminisce in the Royal Hall where she’d performed the first time she’d visited Harrogate and once to purchase some food. Hettie was very kind with her invitations to join her for meals but Jane didn’t want to take advantage of her generosity. She hadn’t lingered either trip, partly because of nerves, partly because the weather had turned damp and chilly. Maybe that was why her mystery man hadn’t put in an appearance. Or maybe she’d imagined his interest. Or overestimated it. Or he’d changed his mind after her non-stellar conversational ability when he’d spoken to her at the well. Perhaps but Jane really didn’t think so. Although she hadn’t seen him, there had been moments when she felt as if she were being watched. Then again maybe that was all in her imagination as well. Either way she’d never been one to shy away from unusual, potentially interesting situations or attractive men. She wasn’t about to start now when she wasn’t even sure there actually was a situation. For the first hour in Ripon, Jane wandered in and out of the shops near the market. Then she got a muffin and sat in the square, listening to a group of local musicians while she ate. At one point she looked up and thought she saw her stranger going into one of the stores opposite from where she was sitting but she wasn’t sure. She considered going in after him but decided against it. First, what if it wasn’t even him? Second, what if it was? What could

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she say to him? Asking why he was following her was out of the question, especially in public where she might be overheard. The reputation of American tourists was bad enough already. Accusing a well-dressed Brit, probably a local businessman, of stalking would do nothing to improve that image. Jane kept an eye on the doorway as she enjoyed the rest of the performance. She might not be willing to go into the store to check but it wouldn’t hurt to know if the man really was the same one she’d been seeing. When no one resembling him emerged by the end of the concert Jane decided she must have been imaging things. She was restless from being inactive the last few days. The weather was holding so it seemed a good day for a stroll around Fountains Abbey since she’d been looking forward to exploring them again.

He followed her just far enough to confirm her direction and then went home for his car. Though it was broad daylight and many others walked the footpath along Studley Road without incident every day, the thought of Jane doing so alone unsettled him. What if she was the one in a million that something happened to? It took all the self-restraint he could muster to prevent himself from racing after her and ensuring her safe arrival at the abbey by tossing her into his car and carrying her there personally. Unfortunately, he knew that attempting to do so at this juncture could be counterproductive to his goal. Once it was reached, however, it would be an entirely different matter and one he intended to discuss right off. He managed to wait almost half an hour before setting off after her. He was beginning to believe he’d missed her along the road which should be difficult due to the pink jacket she was wearing. He was about to turn back when he spotted her. It surprised him that she was almost there. He hadn’t thought she would be able to cover ground so quickly in those Godawful shoes of hers. Maybe they were functional in spite of their ugliness. He angled his face away from that side of the road in case she happened to glance over as he passed. He planned to speak with her today if he had the opportunity to do so, away from the many groups that visited the grounds daily. Even though he disagreed with Hettie’s opinion that their brief exchange in Knaresborough had frightened Jane, he thought it best not to approach her until the circumstances were to his liking. He didn’t want to chance her scampering back to Harrogate if she caught sight of him ahead of time. He’d worried earlier

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when she had kept watch on the shop where he had ducked into in order to observe her. Fortunately, she hadn’t followed or he would have had to hide in the back until she left the premises. His peering out the window at her had caused enough amusement for his mate who owned the shop. Cowering behind the curtain separating the storeroom from the main area would have been too much to bear. Finally Jane separated herself from the crowd and he had his opportunity. “Hello again, Miss Templeton.” She studied him thoughtfully before responding. “It’s not coincidental that you keep showing up, is it?” “No.” “Or that you waited to talk to me until I was alone.” “No.” She frowned and shied away, only to back herself to a wall. “Did Richard send you?” Her voice shook. He watched the colour drain from Jane’s cheeks and could practically see the fear radiating from her. “No. The reason is entirely personal. I’m not going to harm you.” Jane’s expression remained sceptical. “Why should I believe you?” “Because I said so.” Her whole demeanour changed. “Okay then,” she snorted. “Glad we have that settled. See ya.” “Uncalled-for sarcasm is not something I find attractive,” he stated, blocking her escape. “We’re not finished here.” “Oh yes we are.” Jane tried to go around him but was once again cut off. “Look, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but…” “Language, Miss Templeton.” He caught her arm, wary of her transformation. Before, she’d always seem timidly curious. Now she seemed to have become overly bold. Perhaps she really was more afraid than he’d believed and hiding it behind bravado. “Let go, asshole.”

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He released her but continued to stand in her way. “There’s no need for vulgarity. I merely wish to speak with you for a few moments. I have no intention of hurting you.” “Says you.” She glared. “Get out of my way. Now.” “Walk with me,” he ordered, claiming the hand Jane was using to try to push him aside. Before she could react, he had it tucked into the crook of his arm, firmly held in place under his opposite hand. “You can’t just drag me around here because you feel like it.” “Ah but I can,” he stated the obvious since she had already fallen into step beside him. “What do you want?” “Simply to chat as I believe I already mentioned.” “Well, yeah but why? I mean, who the nuts are you anyway?” “Someone intrigued who wants to know you better.” Jane laughed. “You sure as hell have a weird way of doing that. I mean first, you follow me all over the place looking like some high-class stalker, and now you wait until I’m semialone before you pounce—kinda like I’m a baby antelope being cut from the herd by a pack of hyenas.” He gaped briefly before chuckling. “Let me assure you I don’t intend to devour you in that manner.” “No? Then what manner are you going to devour me in?” She blushed hotly at his bark of laughter. “Oh God, I didn’t just say that.” “Mm, ‘fraid so” he said. “And that is something we’ll have to see about.” She frowned. “How?” As the first fat raindrops fell, he linked their hands and tugged her towards a section of the abbey proper that would offer at least minimal shelter. “Come on. It’s hardly ideal but it’ll do.” Shaking her damp curls, Jane giggled. “You’re not really dressed for rain.” “Neither are you.” “Sure I am.” She pulled a tightly folded poncho from her pocket. “See?”

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“Clever,” he commented. “We’ll wait here to see if it lets up and if not, you can slip that on until we reach the car.” “The car?” “Yes. I’ll give you a lift back.” “Whoa, hold up buddy. No way am I just jumping into any car with you, rain or no rain. For all I know you’re a psycho serial killer cannibal or something.” He was amused. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s pouring.” “So? You only eat tourists on sunny days? Not happening so forget it.” She started to walk away but only made it two steps. “Be reasonable,” he advised, his aggravation growing. “There’s no need to be soaked through when I have a perfectly fine car out in the lot.” “Well goody for you but I’m still not getting in it. I don’t care how fine it is.” He scowled at her continued refusal. “You’re behaving like a petulant child. Stop being so foolish. You sound almost as if you want to get pneumonia.” He believed his decision perfectly reasonable. Why was Jane being so ridiculous, arguing over accepting a lift in a downpour? “I’m being foolish? Me? Excuse me,” she practically shrieked. “You’ve got this whole thing way backwards here. You seem to forget that I don’t know you. At all. What would be foolish is getting in a damn car and going off with some strange man, especially one as whacked as you are.” “Enough,” he snapped. “Lower your voice or I’ll give you the spanking you deserve right here.” She balked. “As if. You don’t have the balls…” “Bloody hell.” In a flash, he had his foot propped up on the nearest ledge and Jane bent over his thigh. Her arms were twisted behind her back, her wrists clamped in one hand. “Silence, Miss Templeton.” His flattened palm landed on her curved cheek. “Hey, ow.” She struggled to get free. “I said silence. Hold still,” he commanded with a flurry of swats. His hand was beginning to sting. Even though she was protected by a layer of denim and presumably some sort of knickers her arse probably was too. He wished he were able to watch her cheeks turn

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that spectacular shade of red and feel the heat radiating from her smarting flesh. That she’d pushed him to administer her first spanking today, here, prematurely, instead of as he’d planned infuriated him even more than her childish disregard of common sense. He clipped her harder. “Stop. Oh God, stop or I’ll scream,” she gasped, squirming in a futile attempt to avoid the blows. “No. You won’t. You know that as well as I do because you would have already done so were you going to.” His hand flew ceaselessly. “Please,” she whimpered, crying openly. “Please. Don’t.” The haze of anger faded enough for him to realise that her reaction was changing. At first, Jane had fought to escape and to shift away from his hand. She had been rigid with fear and demanding he release her. Now however, her entire demeanour was altered. He became more methodical with his slaps and was thrilled with how her hips shifted as if seeking more. Moans interrupted her sobs. She continued to beg, softly now, but for him to continue instead of to stop. “Are you ready to be reasonable?” he asked, pausing the spanking to caress her curves. His voice seemed to draw her from the trance and Jane stiffened immediately. “You bastard! Let me go.” Renewed fury surged through him and he resumed her punishment. “Language, Miss Templeton,” he repeated. “I won’t tolerate it.” He emphasised his words with a few strategically placed smacks. “If I need to remind you again, I’ll thrash your bare arse no matter where we are.” His thumb grazed the seam of her jeans covering her slit. “I can feel your wetness through your trousers. I can’t wait to witness it unhindered.” His statements combined with the action of his thumb finally registered and caused Jane to panic. He’d relaxed his hold enough that her sudden movement made it possible for her to twist out of his grasp. She stood, panting, glaring fiercely as fresh tears coursed down her face. “How dare you!” she gulped. “Stay away from me.” She backed up steadily as she spoke. “Don’t you ever even think,” she began only to turn and run without finishing.

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For many suspended moments, he remained motionless, staring at the archway through which she had disappeared. He should go after her. He should catch her and see her safely back. He should demand she speak with him, listen to him, permit him to explain, to let him make her understand. But he didn’t. He was frozen in place, unable to force his body to move. What had he done? The question echoed through his mind. She must think him a vicious beast. How had everything gone so incredibly wrong? All he’d intended was a bit of a chat to allow her to start knowing him. If only she’d behaved reasonably. Even though she was still so unfamiliar with him, she had to sense that he posed no threat to her safety. She had to feel the connection between them. Somewhere deep inside she had to know they belonged together as he had from the very instant he first saw her walking down the road in those awful purple shoes. His head dropped and he noticed her rain poncho lying at his feet. He scowled at his stupidity. Not only had she run from him in terror but she was doing so soaking wet. From head to toe since those damned shoes had holes in them and would provide no protection. A detached portion of his mind wondered how she managed to run in them, since they had no backs. The thought caused him to berate himself even more. She’d probably run right out of them in her panic to escape him and was now barefoot, bloodying her feet on debris along the path, too frightened he’d catch up with her to care. Bending to retrieve the poncho, he unconsciously rearranged the bulge in his pants. When what he did registered, he groaned. Not only did he accost her in public and bend her over his knee, his cock had gotten hard as he did it. With how she’d been positioned the odds of Jane having not noticed were nil. What a monster she must think him. No. Not merely a monster, a perverted monster since by the expression on her face it was now clear she truly didn’t know her own nature.

“She’s there?” “You don’t deserve to know. What did you do to her? The poor lamb was dripping wet and without the wrap I know she left here with this morning. She was still shivering so hard her teeth were chattering, even after a long soak and a hot cup of tea which makes me think it wasn’t all from being caught in the rain.”

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“She didn’t tell you?” “Not a thing. What happened?” “Much more than should have at this point in our acquaintance. But nothing that wouldn’t have eventually. There’s a lot she hasn’t realised yet.” “Like what exactly? Tell me.” “No need for that. It’s nothing I can’t help her understand.” A pause. “So? Is she still there?” “For now.” “Meaning?” Hettie sighed in resignation. Part of her wanted to protect her young lodger but the rest grasped the entire situation. He was right. Jane hadn’t figured out certain things about herself. Things he was more than capable of explaining. If only he weren’t already too close to do so calmly. “She’s decided on a few days in Scarborough, leaving on the first train tomorrow. I booked a room for her at the Russells’.” “What did you tell them?” “Nothing other than she’s with me for several months and wanted a brief holiday at the seaside.” “Good. Tomorrow, ring them back and say that I’ll be joining her and that it’s to be a surprise.” “Why should I? I may not know the details but it’s obvious you’ve done something. How do I know your being there won’t make it worse?” “Because I say it won’t. I know what needs doing. I won’t make the same mistake I did today even if she continues to provoke me as she did.” Hettie was beginning to understand things better. Meek, little Janey really had gotten under his skin in a big way and her guess was, pushed him into losing some of his rigid control. She had to bite her lip to contain her merriment. It was about time he met his match and this further proved she could very well be it. “Really? So how are you going to go about it then?” “I’ll simply tell her. She’s an intelligent girl. She’ll understand.”

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“Just like that?” This time she did laugh. “Just because you say so, everything will suddenly fall into place and make perfect sense to her when she has no idea what she is?” “Of course. Assuming she stops being pig-headed as she was today and listens like a rational adult.” Hettie caught herself before announcing her disbelief. “Well, all right then. I’m sure if you say so everything will be just fine. Ring me if you need my help.” “I doubt that will be necessary.”

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Chapter Four

The train was almost to Scarborough and Jane could barely remember stepping onto it. Her mind had been racing wildly ever since being cornered and then spanked by her mystery man. She felt entirely cowardly, running away as she was. No amount of rationalising would ever convince her that this little trip to the beach was anything other than that. The very thought of it had Jane furious all over again. When she’d left Pittsburgh she swore that it was the one and only time she’d ever let a man chase her from her home. Granted, Agate’s wasn’t really her home but the same principle applied. Only, if she were to be completely honest with herself, it wasn’t the man who had sent her running. Well, he did cause it but he wasn’t the real reason for her flight. She was. Or more accurately, her reaction to him was. Just thinking about the semi-public spanking made her cheeks flush. Although the sting hadn’t lasted, she could still conjure up the warmth she’d felt beneath his hand. And the excitement it caused. What was wrong with her, getting aroused by being manhandled? Jane sighed. The answer was simple. She was a pervert. Just like he was because it was obvious that he’d been just as turned on spanking her as she was being spanked. Except she didn’t feel like a pervert. She felt alive. More alive than Richard had ever made her feel in all their years together. After unpacking, Jane made her way to the walk overlooking the beach. English beaches were nothing like those back home. That thought almost made her chuckle since, as she’d realised on the train, she had no real place to call home these days. Pulling her sweatshirt tighter around her even though it wasn’t at all chilly, she wished desperately for someone to talk to. Someone who had experience with this sort of thing. Someone who could answer her countless questions and help her to understand. For a brief moment yesterday, she’d considered confiding in Hettie but then had thought better of it. Her landlady was so kind and generous and she really liked her. The last thing she wanted to do was reveal what had happened only to end up offending her and being tossed out on to the street for having such a twisted reaction to it.

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Standing along the rail looking blindly at the North Sea, Jane felt lost and alone. She was so distracted that she didn’t realise he was beside her until he spoke. “Lovely day, Miss Templeton.” Jane was so startled that she jumped back and would have fallen had he not caught her arm. “Oh God, you’re here.” “Yes.” His fingers slid along her arm until he captured her hand. “How? Why?” “We failed to have the conversation I intended yesterday.” “But…” “Shall we?” He gestured for her to walk with him. “Please don’t argue again,” he advised when she hesitated. “We know what results from that.” Jane gasped and immediately fell into step beside him. “Why are you following me? What do you want?” “Exactly as I’ve stated. To speak with you.” “About what? I mean, why?” “You intrigue me. I need to determine the cause of that.” “Me? How? I didn’t do anything.” “Not specifically. I observed you taking in your surroundings the day you arrived and apparently that was enough.” “Enough for what? What do you mean?” “As I said enough to interest me. I had this feeling when I saw you walking down the road in those ridiculous shoes of yours.” She bristled. “What’s wrong with my shoes?” He raised an eyebrow. “Besides that they’re purple and plastic, they look like something meant for small children, not adult women.” “So what? They make them for everybody and they’re comfy.” Jane thought this might be the most surreal moment of her life, walking with the total stranger who had spanked her, disagreeing over the attributes of her Crocs. “They’re hardly appropriate for a proper young woman.”

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“Says who?” “I do,” he stated firmly. “Ah here we are.” He guided her into a tearoom. “We’ll have a bite while we talk.” “Oh and now I suppose you’re going to tell me I’m hungry because you say so,” Jane muttered sarcastically. “Careful, Miss Templeton,” he advised, steering them to an isolated table. “You already know how I feel about unwarranted sarcasm.” Jane snorted. “Yeah, that’s right. What are you going to do? Spank me here.” Her heart skipped at beat at his expression. Very quietly, he said, “Perhaps. Should it become necessary.” Her reply was delayed as he placed an order for a full tea service with a variety of pastries. After the server was gone, Jane timidly declared, “You wouldn’t.” “Wouldn’t I? Do you care to test that?” He pinned her with a stare. “N-no.” Jane was flustered. “Very good. Now then, let’s talk about you.” She couldn’t help herself. His overbearing manner was too much. “Why, because you said so?” “You’re trying my patience,” he warned. “Intentionally, I suspect.” Again, the conversation stalled at the waitress’ arrival. “Would you pour please?” “Me?” Jane laughed. “Like I know how.” He sighed. “Pay attention.” He explained the proper procedure in great detail, demonstrating as he went. “I suppose next you’ll say there’s going to be a quiz on this later.” “A quiz, no. But I will expect you to pour correctly next time.” He left the statement hang. “What makes you so sure there’ll be a next time?” “Because I said so.” “Walked right into that one, didn’t I? Hey, what’s your name anyway?”

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“Oh I’m sorry. It’s Simon.” Jane laughed without humour. “Should have known. Bet you played a lot of Simon Says when you were a kid.” He frowned when her meaning registered but her raised hands prevented his comment. “Sorry but you must admit it fits with all your highhanded ‘you said this and you said that’.” “That is not amusing.” “Sure it is,” she giggled. After a minute under his glare, Jane stopped enough to sip her tea. “Sorry.” Simon nodded curtly. “Tell me about yourself.” “You don’t quit, do you?” she paused but he didn’t comment. “All right, fine. What do you want to know?” “Everything. Start with how you came to be in Harrogate.” Jane didn’t intend to reveal a thing but the next thing she heard was her own voice telling Simon what he wanted to know. He was very attentive and didn’t interrupt while she spoke about participating in the International Music Festival and then returning to spend a summer with her host family. When she began to talk about Richard, then hesitated, he encouraged her to continue. “Are you sure you really want to know all this?” she asked, stalling. “I said I did.” “Right.” Jane rolled her eyes. “I forgot. You said so and that means I have to tell you.” He merely waited. “Okay, you win. Again. Richard and I met when I was temping at the bank where he worked. He seemed so confident, so in charge. And he was there. It took a while for me to figure out that it wasn’t how he was all the time.” “What do you mean?” “I’m not sure how to explain it. At the bank where he worked, there were set rules and everyone played their part. Away from there, he seemed uncertain, like he didn’t really know how everything fit. Once he convinced me to move in he wanted to control everything.

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Only he did it by being clingy and smothering me instead of by having authority and taking charge.” “Is that what you wanted, Richard to run your life for you?” “No, not really. Or not how you’re thinking. I can handle things just fine on my own. It’s more that I don’t always want to than that I can’t.” “I see.” While Simon settled the bill, Jane wondered what he meant by that. She also wondered why talking to him about Richard gave her an added perspective that she’d never had before. As they resumed their walk, they picked up the conversation. “You’ve probably noticed I can get a little stubborn?” “Yes.” “I think what I need is someone who’s stronger willed than I am.” “Richard wasn’t?” “Hardly,” Jane snickered. “Not that he would ever agree with that. He had a preconceived idea about who I was, so he never really bothered to get to know me. Instead of acting like a reasonable, intelligent adult and just talking to me about how he thought things should be he’d coerce me into doing it his way.” “Coerce you how? Physically? Did he hurt you?” “No! God, no. I’d have killed him if he’d tried that. No, he stuck to being verbally abusive. If I didn’t do what he wanted me to do or had an opinion he didn’t like he’d yell and say things to make me feel bad until I agreed with him.” “He was intimidated by you.” “I think so but it took me a long time to figure that out. By the time I did I was trapped. I was stupid and let him cut me off from my friends. I’d gotten rid of my car and was using one of his that rarely ran. It didn’t matter much anyway because he got so nasty about me not being around whenever he thought I should be, that I was barely working at all so I had no money.” “Yet you still decided to break it off.”

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“Yes. One day I realised that I didn’t know myself any more. I didn’t like the person I’d become with him. I tried to talk to him about it a bunch of times but he never would. I don’t know why because I really think he was as miserable as I was. It was obvious that he didn’t like me—let alone love me. Actually, I’m not sure he ever did. I think he just liked the idea of loving me more than anything else. The things he said were so ugly that I started to believe I was really as useless as he told me I was. I’m not. I know I’m not. For the last year or so all we did was hurt each other so I decided I had to go before we were both destroyed beyond hope.” “Your mates were gone and you had no money. How did you manage to leave?” “Richard was always very generous when it came to giving me things like jewellery. Of course that was mostly so he could make me wear it to show off in front of his friends since he always made such a big deal out it whenever they were around. God, it was all so gaudy. Very expensive too. Anyway, I sold some of that to get enough for an apartment and took the first job I could get.” “He let you go without a fight?” “No. He hounded me so bad he got me fired from the first job. I ended up breaking the lease and moving after a month. It wasn’t long before he found me again but I’d warned my new boss about him so they weren’t surprised when he showed up. You should have seen the look on his face when he was asked to leave the car dealership where I was working! He was furious at them. He kept yelling that he had every right to speak to his fiancé. They finally had to threaten to call the police to get him to leave. Anyway one of the mechanics was kind enough to drive me back and forth to work since I was on his way.” “I assume Richard didn’t approve of that.” “Oh no, not at all. He accused us of all sorts of things, none of which were true. He didn’t keep it up because the mechanic was really big and mean looking. The second time Richard was waiting at my apartment, he took him off and I think threatened him even though the guy was really too nice to actually do anything.” “But Richard didn’t know that.” “No. It got him to stop lurking in the shadows outside my apartment but it didn’t stop him calling.”

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“What did he say?” “Oh stuff like how I was acting like a spoiled brat having a temper tantrum and how I should grow up and come back where I belonged. How I was intentionally trying to make him look bad, how selfish I was, throwing away all the good years we’d had together. And how what I was doing proved I needed someone to take care of me.” “Bloody bastard,” Simon swore. “I was afraid he’d never quit so I sold some more tacky jewellery, stuck all my stuff in storage and ran away to here. I’m sure he’ll find me eventually even though I tried to leave some false trails along the way by spending a few days in each place I stopped before I got to Harrogate.” “You really think so?” “Very possibly. My leaving will have made him mad but I’m hoping he’s too cheap to come after me.” “I thought you said he was generous?” “He was when he wanted to look good for his friends. The rest of the time he bitched about every cent.” Simon shook his head. “You’re better off without him. Don’t worry, he won’t get to you while I’m around.” Jane laughed. “Oh right. I can see it, him showing up here and the two of you kicking sand at each other in your suits. That’ll be good.” “There’s nothing wrong with dressing respectably.” “You’re right. There’s not. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh at that since you always look so great. It was just a funny image.” “I understand and you’re forgiven.” “Thanks. Hey why do you always have a suit on? What do you do?” “All in good time. We’re discussing you.” “But I want to discuss you too.” “We will.” “When?”

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“When I say so.” Jane snorted. “There you go again.” Simon scowled. “Okay, okay, calm down. Jeez, are you always this prickly?” “Excuse me?” “Damn.” She blushed. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Simon laughed. “Yes but you set yourself up so nicely I couldn’t resist.” “Wait, did you just make a joke? Wow. I thought that stick up your ass was permanent.” “Miss Templeton,” he warned. “Oops. Sorry. But you have to admit you’re a little stuffy so it’s not all my fault.” “I will do no such thing.” For the next few hours they continued to walk around the town, talking about whatever Simon chose. Jane was amazed at how quickly the time passed. She didn’t remember ever having such an easy conversation with anyone. She was fascinated by how natural it felt being with him. Once they settled into a rhythm, they seemed to fit together well. He held her arm at curbs and tucked her hand into his in between. When they encountered a group of tourists he angled his body protectively in front of hers as if to shelter her. The gesture was kind of quaint but really very nice. Without her realising it, Simon guided them to the inn where she was registered. He looked at his watch. “We will meet here at six o’clock. That should allow you sufficient time to dress for dinner.” “Huh? Dress? I don’t have anything I’d call dressy and besides, what’s wrong with what I have on?” Jane was offended. “Nothing for a stroll but it’s not appropriate for the restaurant where we’re dining.” “Says who? I don’t remember being asked and maybe I already have plans.” Simon’s sigh sounded almost tired. “You don’t and I said so. Must everything be such a debate with you, Miss Templeton?” “Maybe it wouldn’t be if you stopped calling me that.” “Is there something wrong with being respectful?”

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“No,” she pouted. “But it’s a little strange, you calling me Miss Templeton all the time when I don’t even know your last name.” “Is that an invitation to address you as Jane?” “Um, well, yeah. I guess.” “Then Jane it is. Thank you. Now don’t worry about your clothes. I’ve had some things delivered to your room. I’ll see you back here at six.” With that he walked out, leaving Jane gawking openly after him.

At first Jane told herself she wasn’t even going to look to see what Simon considered suitable dinner attire. She was going to lock herself in her room, crawl into bed and sleep until morning. Then her curiosity got the better of her and she looked in the closet. Inside she found a simple yet elegant, dark emerald green dress. It had slightly capped sleeves, a scooped neckline that was low but she guessed not too low, tiny buttons from top to bottom and a tie at the back that would draw the dress in to emphasise her figure. She held it in front of her and stood at the mirror. If it fit like she thought it would, the dress would be very attractive on her. Draping the dress on the bed, Jane slumped into a chair. She was torn between knowing she should call down to the desk and have someone come up to get the dress and return it to Simon with her apologies, and her growing fascination with the man. Once he stopped being so lofty and settled into the conversation he really was very charming. He made comments that showed how attentively he listened. He thought before offering his opinion. He prompted her in a way that had made it very easy to talk to him. Despite his claim that the topic that afternoon was solely her, he had contributed plenty of titbits about himself which served to pique her interest. What harm would there be in having dinner with him? After all, if she declined she wasn’t entirely certain he wouldn’t charge up to her room, spank her for disobeying and then drag her off to the restaurant anyway. Wasn’t it better to start out the evening on even footing than stack the deck in his favour? With a quick glance at her watch, Jane saw that if she was going to be ready to meet him at the designated time, she had better get moving.

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As she was dressing Jane remembered the only shoes she had were the Crocs that Simon hated. The sandals that might have been passable with the dress were back at Mrs. Agate’s. Her heart sank as she looked at her reflection. Yes, the dress was as wonderful on as she’d thought it would be but the shoes were just as purple as ever. She’d gotten them on a day when she was feeling low to cheer herself up. They’d worked wonders for that but they sure didn’t fit the image she knew Simon was aiming for with the dress. She only had a few minutes before she was to meet him in the reception area so there was no time for her to run out and find others. Shrugging, she decided it wasn’t her doing she hadn’t brought along proper shoes. If he’d bothered to contact her and actually invite her to dinner ahead of time instead of demanding a command performance she could have been prepared. But he hadn’t. Therefore, it wasn’t her fault that she had no choice but to wear the only shoes she had with her whether he approved of them or not. Opting to walk down the three flights of steps from her room, Jane questioned her sudden fear of displeasing Simon. She barely knew the man so why was she so worried about his opinion? She paused on the landing above the lobby. Because there was just something about him, something more complex than his being an attractive man. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what but it was definitely something. Maybe spending more time with him would help the reason become clear. “Good evening, Jane,” Simon stood to greet her when she reached the bottom step. “Hello, Simon,” she responded nervously as she watched him note her shoes. “I’m sorry they’re all I have with me.” “No need to apologise, luv. I failed to consider this fully,” he said, surprising her. “You look lovely.” He draped a soft, ivory wrap over her shoulders and gestured to the door. “Ready?” “But you hate these shoes.” “Hate is such a strong word. Let’s just say they’re unexpected instead, shall we? Different. Which can be a very good thing.” “Oh. Okay,” Jane agreed meekly, confused by his calmness. If he were Richard he would be berating her non-stop, making her feel lower than pond scum for being unprepared even though she had no way of foretelling the turn of events.

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“Jane, are you feeling all right?” Simon asked once they were seated. “You’re awfully quiet.” “What?” Jane was startled when she realised they were already in the restaurant. “No, I’m fine. Just thinking.” “About what if I may ask?” “Um, nothing really.” “Jane,” his tone held a slight warning. “You’re incredibly distracted, so much so you didn’t make a fuss about getting in my car. Now please tell me what’s on your mind.” Jane sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s dumb but I was just thinking about Richard.” “Regarding?” “You. I mean, you’re not at all like him. Well, on the surface you are but not underneath.” “I’ll take that as a compliment so thank you. I’m glad you can see the difference because I assure you I am nothing like that bastard.” She shivered at the tone of his voice. Simon was right. They were nothing alike. Had she ever made such a comparison with Richard he would have blown up and then spent the next hour whining. Simon, on the other hand, acknowledged it, formed a conclusion and was ready to move on. And he managed it with a few simple statements delivered in a way that left no room for debate. “Everything you’ve divulged about Richard indicates that he is a poser. I, however, am the real deal,” Simon stated evenly. “Huh?” His declaration snapped her from her thoughts. “What do you mean?” He silenced her with a look. “Why don’t you ponder that while I order?” He proceeded to make selections for them both. Jane was amazed. The meal Simon chose for her was the same she would have picked for herself. How did he do that? She hadn’t mentioned her tastes in foods that afternoon yet he seemed to know all her likes anyway. “I trust that meets with your approval?”

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“Yeah, uh yes. Thank you. How do you know what I like?” Jane sipped the perfect wine that he’d requested. “I have my ways,” he replied cryptically. “Now back to what we were discussing. I sense you have some understanding?” “I think so. Richard wanted to be in charge and he was at work where everything was already set up for him. Away from there, when he was on his own, he didn’t know how to go about it so he generally screwed up and made a fool out of himself.” “Go on.” “You, on the other hand, really do know how to take control and are comfortable doing so. I’m just guessing but you’re like that at your job too, whatever it is.” “Excellent, Jane.” Simon covered her hand and smiled. “I’m proud of you.” Jane felt her face flush at his praise. “Thank you, Simon,” she whispered. The silence that followed wasn’t at all awkward which heightened her awareness of the differences between Simon and Richard. Before, she would have felt it necessary to fill in the spaces however possible. Now, she was comfortable waiting for Simon to direct their conversation. Simon’s smile grew. He nodded his approval. “You’re a rare woman, Jane Templeton. Very rare.” Their meal arrived. “I suppose it’s time to tell you something about myself.” “Please. That is, if you don’t mind.” “I wouldn’t have brought it up had I minded.” “Oh. Okay. Then yes please.” He chuckled. “Very well. As you surmised I do hold the top position at my firm. I own a business consulting company in Harrogate. You’ve passed by my offices many times when you were walking downtown.” “So that’s how you knew where I was. But you were in York. And at St. Mark’s.” “I have clients in York and was on my way to a meeting the day you were there. As for St. Mark’s, I have friends in that neighbourhood and occasionally attend church with them. That’s how I happened to see you the day you arrived as well.” “Hmm, okay but what about the wishing well? Why were you in Knaresborough?”

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“Ah. Well.” He grinned. “I must admit that day I actually did follow you. I saw you walk by and you looked so determined I was curious where you were off to.” “Wait. You were on the train with me? Why didn’t you talk to me then?” “Had I spoken to you before you reached your destination you may have altered your plans. I had great fun watching you retrace your steps of years ago. I hadn’t intended to make my presence known at all but I couldn’t resist when I saw the expression on your face as you wished. Tell me, what is it that you wished for?” Jane was flustered. She never expected him to be so candid about trailing her. “Must I? I will if you insist but I’d really rather not.” Simon scrutinised her for a moment. “As you wish.” “Thank you. That day in Ripon?” “I live there. I was stopping in at a mate’s shop before going to the office when I spotted you.” “So I did see you. I knew it. What about Fountains? Did you follow me there too?” “Yes. Once I determined your destination I took the opportunity to approach you.” “You spanked me!” “Yes.” “Why? You can’t just go around spanking people for the hell of it…or do you?” He scowled. “Most assuredly not.” “Then why me?” “Because your behaviour warranted it. You were being stubborn and foolish.” “I was not. I didn’t know you so why would I get in your car? Better to get wet than be dead.” He sighed. “In principle I agree, however your logic is flawed in this instance. You knew full well that I intended you no harm. Didn’t you, Jane?” She opened her mouth to protest but then closed it. He was right. She did know he wouldn’t have hurt her. So why had she argued? Why did she push him like she had? Her stomach fluttered. Why did he affect her as he did? “Jane?”

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“Yes. I did know that.” “Then why didn’t you come with me as you should have? Why did you persist in defying me?” “I don’t know,” she cried. “You do know, Jane. This however is not the most prudent time to delve into the subject. Might I suggest we postpone it until later?” “Yes please,” she mumbled. “Speak up, Jane. Look at me when you address me.” Jane flinched at his rebuke and met his eyes. “Sorry. I said yes please,” she paused. “Can I ask how it is you can just wander away from your office to follow me? I know you said you were going to see someone that day in York but what about the other times? What about today? Maybe I’m wrong but you look like you’re successful so you have to be busy.” “You’re correct, my business is very lucrative. I am highly competent at what I do. As is my staff, which therefore makes it possible for me to take some personal time should I so desire.” “Do you do that often? Take time off to tail strange women?” “You’re hardly strange, luv. You really shouldn’t refer to yourself as such.” Jane giggled. “That’s not what I meant.” “I know.” He winked. “Dessert?” he asked when the waiter appeared. “You’re asking? That’s a surprise,” she stated without thinking how sarcastic she would sound. Simon merely uttered her name quietly but his tone cautioned her against saying more. “Oh. Um, no thank you.” He dismissed the waiter with a nod. “I’m sorry, Simon. I…” “Enough,” he interrupted. “It wasn’t intentional.” “But…” “I said enough,” he repeated.

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Jane dipped her head, swamped with conflicting emotions. She felt chastised, like a scolded child yet absolved by his refusal to allow her to apologise. How could that be? Why had he stopped her? “Shall we go?” Simon interrupted her thoughts.

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Chapter Five

Jane was as quiet on the drive back to the inn as she had been along the way to the restaurant. Simon left her to her thoughts because he was pondering as well. Things were progressing nicely, better than he had hoped they would. Fortunately, Jane wasn’t as emotionally scarred by Richard as he feared she might have been. She was quick to apologise, too quick. He would need to break her of her habit of shouldering the blame when she’d done nothing wrong. She probably didn’t even notice she was doing it. Anther thing he was certain she was unaware of was that she already trusted him. She would be though. Just as soon as they got upstairs and she found out that he had his belongings placed in her room and intended to stay with her. “Would you like to walk a little before we go up?” Simon asked when he helped Jane out of the car. The evening was amazingly warm and windless for a spring night at the Yorkshire seaside. “Mm, okay,” Jane agreed. After a few minutes she added, “It’s so nice here.” “Yes, unusually so. Must be your presence.” She giggled. “That’s ridiculous.” “I’m serious. I don’t remember a nicer spring than this and the only thing I can attribute it to is you being here. You have a calming influence.” “On the weather, maybe. Not on you.” “What makes you say that?” “Well, um, what we were talking about before, about when you spanked me.” “Ah. There is that. I half suspect however, that that was exactly what you wanted to happen.” “Huh?” She stopped. “What the hell? I wanted that? You’re out of your freaking mind.” “No. Lower your voice please. You don’t truly know yourself yet, do you?” “Whoa. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” “Language, Jane. Calm down and we’ll discuss this.”

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“Oh hell no! You know what, you’re really nuts. Totally psycho.” “There’s no need for that attitude.” “Attitude,” she squealed. “Oh that’s good. Uh huh, real good. I have an attitude? Me? You’re the uber-mellow, control freak, whack job here and I have an attitude? Thanks for dinner.” She huffed and turned back to the inn. Simon’s frustration spiked. Why must she be so difficult when he was merely attempting to have a rational discussion with her? Again. “Stop,” he commanded and to his amazement, she did. “Running away when things get a little uncomfortable for you is childish.” Jane stared with a look of disbelief on her face. “I’m not running away.” “Aren’t you?” he asked softly. She didn’t answer. Instead, she dropped her chin. After a moment, she gave a tiny nod. “I guess.” “Why?” “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I do.” When Jane met Simon’s gaze he continued. “You’re afraid. Not of me but of yourself. Of your true nature. So afraid you’re trying to avoid acknowledging it.” “What are you talking about? And what makes you the expert? You don’t know me.” “I know enough. I suspected almost from the first time I saw you. Your behaviour at the abbey made that stronger. Speaking with you today confirmed it.” “Confirmed what? I don’t know what you mean.” Simon pulled her to his chest. “Calm down, luv. You will. I’ll help you understand.” She sniffled. “How?” “Shhh. I assure you, everything will be fine. Let’s go back.” Jane let him guide her in the direction of the inn. “That’s it? You’re not going to explain? You’re just going to drop me there and go?” “No. I’m staying with you.” “Huh? You’re staying? With me? In my room?” “Yes.”

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“You can’t do that. I didn’t invite you to.” “No but I am staying. It’s been arranged and my belongings are already in our room.” “Our room? Just like that, our room? How’d you manage that one? Did you pay them or what?” Simon was fascinated by her rapid transformations. Life with Jane was definitely going to remain interesting if this was her norm. “Don’t be ridiculous. No, I did not bribe them. I merely stated my joining you was to be a surprise.” She snorted. “Oh duh. I should have known. All you had to do was say so.” “Precisely,” he chuckled when she smiled. “Does everyone automatically do as their told when you say something?” “Generally, yes. Except you, of course. I’m not concerned. You’ll learn soon enough.” “As if.” At the inn, they took the lift to the third floor. “Holy shit your stuff really is here,” Jane exclaimed. “So it is,” Simon said dryly. “Please watch your language. I’ve warned you about that far too often already.” “Jeez, would you give that a rest? I didn’t say anything that bad.” “Bad enough. That’s no way for a lady to speak except in very extreme circumstances, this not being one of them.” “Oh well excuse me,” she exaggerated. “Tell me, just when is it okay for a little swearing if not now? I mean really, we go off to dinner while you arrange to have your things dumped in my room without bothering to check with me to see if that’s okay or not and I’m just supposed to smile and say fine? I don’t think so.” “You have a slight point there. I suppose it is somewhat unexpected but hardly worth making such a fuss about.” “Yeah, right. Says who?” She groaned. “Damn don’t say it. I know, says you.” Simon laughed. “You’re catching on.” “Goody. But what makes you think this is okay, you just invading my room like this?”

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“I know it is. And so do you. Or you will if you stop protesting and consider it for a minute.” Jane watched him silently as he took off his jacket and tie. “What are you doing?” she asked when he started to remove his shirt. “Getting comfortable for our talk.” He put on sweatpants and a T-shirt. “I don’t believe you just did that.” “Did what?” “Changed in front of me like that. How can you be so damned stuffy and just whip off your pants in public?” “Jane, this is hardly public. I think you’ll find stuffy isn’t the word you want once you spend more time with me.” “Like that’s going to happen,” she muttered, gathering her clothes. “Where are you going?” He stopped her at the bathroom door. “To change. In private.” “I prefer to watch.” Jane gawked, nearly causing Simon to laugh. He contained it only because her acceptance of his presence in her room was still tentative. Should she truly insist he vacate, he would. He had her slightly off-balance which was good. Aggravating her by laughing at her discomfort at this point would not be. “No need for timidity. It’s not as if I intend to jump you as soon as you disrobe.” “You don’t?” Jane’s confusion was obvious. “Wait, if you’re not interested in sex then what the hell is going on here?” Again, Simon had to bite his lip. She was priceless, flustered by his announcement to stay with her and now put out because she concluded he meant not to touch her. “Don’t make assumptions, luv. I never said I wasn’t interested. I merely prefer to choose the setting the first time we make love.” Her scowl deepened. “Make love? Where you pick?” “Do you always restate everything?” “Huh?”

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“I’ve noticed you tend to repeat what I say. Is it because you need to in order to clarify things for yourself or is it a nervous habit?” She shook her head as if trying to clear it and then gave him a quizzical look. “Oh I get it. You’re changing the subject to distract me.” “No. I made an observation.” “Now? In the middle of talking about sex? You decide to pick me apart?” She blushed. “Oh damn.” “Calm down. It’s perfectly all right. Please don’t become self-conscious.” “Little hard, don’t you think? I mean really, you barge in here and then announce you don’t want me and now you’re analyzing how I talk. How am I supposed to react if not by getting self-conscious?” “It’s called getting to know one another. And again your conclusion is inaccurate. I do want you. Very much so. But I’m going to restrain myself until we’re home tomorrow.” Her mouth dropped. “Home? As in your house? Tomorrow? What the hell makes you think I’d ever go there with you? You really are insane.” “I believe the proper term is confident. And I’d appreciate it if you refrain from being so quick to doubt my faculties in the future.” She suddenly laughed. “Oh man this is unreal.” “How so?” “You just stand there and say that shit like it’s an average conversation for you.” “It’s hardly average but I see no call to be unreasonable. You’re excitable enough for the both of us.” “Unreasonable? Excitable? You’re crazy. I knew it. Follow me around, barge into my room for the night but not to have sex, spank me for not hopping in the car with you when I didn’t know diddly about you and now expect me to say it’s fine and dandy when you decide I’m going home with you just like that. Total fucking lunatic is what you are.” “Language,” he warned, feeling more than slightly angered by her persistence in not heeding his request to refrain from using vulgarities.

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“Oh for Christ’s sake would you just chill with that already? It’s the twenty-first century. Women swear. Get over it.” “Right.” He’d reached his limit. One second he was standing there, watching her pace. The next he had her face down over his lap. Her arms were flailing uselessly above her head. “Be still. I don’t know how sturdy this chair is. I don’t want it to collapse beneath us.” “Let me go,” she cried. “Don’t do this.” Simon gathered the back of her dress above her waist and dragged her panties to her knees. Without pause, he slapped her bare backside, the crack of flesh meeting flesh resounding in the room. “Ow! You fucking asshole. Stop!” “Language,” he emphasised with a sharp swat. “I warned you, Miss Templeton.” A series of smacks to both cheeks. “Repeatedly.” Simon’s breathing grew deeper as he steadily covered her arse with blows. “Such a lovely shade of pink,” he observed. “Simon,” Jane gasped, squirming under his hand. “Please.” “Please what?” He paused the spanking to caress her cheeks. “Beautiful.” A stinging slap. “Please stop?” Several repeats. “Or please more?” She moaned, arching upward, seeking contact. “Oh please.” He rewarded her with additional slaps. Her breaths were ragged between her sobs. Simon adjusted her slightly, holding her in place with his forearm as his fingers dipped between her slightly parted thighs. There he found exactly what he expected. Jane’s pussy was overflowing. Being spanked clearly aroused her. He teased her slit before withdrawing his hand to deliver more blows. “Please what, Jane?” he repeated, delving into her wetness, causing her to try to separate her legs. “Stay still,” he snapped, punctuating the command with a swat. “Why are you doing this?” she sobbed when his hand momentarily left her. “Because you pushed me by ignoring my simple request that you temper your verbal reactions.” Slaps followed by more probing. “Because you need it.” Again. “Because it’ll help you discover your true nature.” “Please,” she begged. “Do something.”

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Not only could he feel her arousal, he could smell it. His cock felt like it was about to burst. If only he hadn’t announced his decision to wait until he got her home. If he hadn’t, he could flip her onto the bed and bury his aching cock deep inside her throbbing pussy. But he had. That didn’t mean, however, he couldn’t have her enjoy the moment. “Do what, Jane? Tell me what you want me to do.” Next time they’d both be naked so he could feel her nipples rubbing against his thigh. Even now, through the layers of cloth he could tell how stiff they were. “Tell me,” he urged, adding swats for encouragement. “Oh God,” she cried. “I-I’m, ooh, I’m going to come. Help me. Please help me come. Please.” “There’s a good girl,” he praised with several caressing blows. He stroked steadily, three fingers buried to the hilt in her clenching sheath. He managed to deliver a slap with his other hand without her toppling to the floor. Curling his fingers downward, he slapped her arse again. One more was all it took for her pussy to clamp down, holding his hand in place as her whole body shivered with pleasure. Jane was crying as Simon guided her to the bed. He cradled her to his chest and dried her tears. “Shhh, Janey. You’re fine, luv,” he crooned softly. “Everything’s perfectly fine.” “How can you say that?” she finally managed. “Nothing’s fine.” “Of course it is.” “No it’s not. I just, just, you know while you spanked me,” she sobbed harder. “Yes, you had an orgasm. Why does that upset you so much?” “Simon! You spanked me.” “I believe we’ve already established that.” Jane huffed in frustration. “That’s not normal.” “Define normal,” he paused. “Jane, many people find some level of pain to be pleasurable.” “I know that.” Simon held in his laugh. “There’s nothing wrong with it, you know. It just is what it is.” “But I’m not like them. Not me.”

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“Oh yes you are. It doesn’t make you abnormal in any way. You’ve been repressing that part of your nature far too long. You simply need someone to help you who understands.” She sniffed. “Someone as in you?” “Precisely.” Jane trembled. “I’m scared, Simon. I don’t know what’s happening to me.” “That’s all right. I do. Just relax and let it happen. Enjoy yourself. Think of it as an adventure.” “Easy for you to say,” she muttered, sounding more like herself again. Simon laughed. “Nothing bad will happen to you while you’re with me. I promise you that, Jane.” She tilted her head and studied him. “I believe you,” she whispered. “I don’t know why but I do believe you.” “Good girl.” He gave her a quick kiss. “It’s because you instinctively know you’re right to trust me. In case you’re wondering, it goes both ways. I trust you too.” He kissed her again at her look of amazement. “Contrary to how it appears, I do not make a habit of this.” His statement must have pleased her because she shifted, wrapping herself more firmly around him. “Simon,” she sighed before offering her lips for another kiss. This time he met them full on, kissing her softly at first, becoming more demanding as it progressed. Simon felt electrified. Kissing Jane was all-consuming. It was even better than anticipated. Now he wondered why he’d waited so long. His erection that had begun to fade was full-on again. His hand slid to cup Jane’s breast. She moaned and tried to press even closer. Had her legs not been trapped by her dress she would have wrapped one around him. Not being able to seemed to aggravate her. Jane’s distressed whimper and obvious desire fuelled his own. His reasons for waiting no longer seemed important. Not in comparison to his need for her.

When Simon’s lips left hers Jane’s eyes snapped open. Why did he stop in the middle of such a delicious kiss? Her unasked question was answered when he tugged off her dress. That’s when she realised her panties were already gone. She must have lost them after the spanking. Tossing the dress over the chair, Simon stood beside the bed. As Jane watched, he

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slowly stripped off his shirt, followed by his sweatpants and finally his boxer briefs. His body was so impressive that she needed to swallow twice to keep from drooling. The man’s clothes certainly hid a lot. Not that he didn’t look great in them but, much to her delight, Simon was one of those men who was even more attractive without them. “Lie back. Hands above your head,” he instructed, stroking his rigid shaft. “Why?” she hesitated, her eyes glued to the movement of his hand. “Because I said to,” he stated. “Jane,” his voice dropped. “Now.” She did as she was told because she was too enthralled not to. What was he going to do? Other than the obvious of course. She thought he’d radiated confidence before. That was nothing compared to now. It wasn’t just that he looked physically powerful, it was his whole demeanour. The image he presented standing there, watching her intently with an expression that showed he fully expected her to comply, wielding his engorged cock like a weapon made it very clear that he was the one in charge of the moment. “Beautiful,” he declared. “Beautiful and mine.” His words registered but not before Simon rejoined her in the bed. He straddled her hips, his hard-on resting on her belly. He leaned over her to link their fingers while his mouth claimed hers for a searing kiss. Jane tried to arch upward but couldn’t. Simon held her firmly in place, exactly where he wanted her. After he eased out of the kiss, he squeezed her hands for emphasis before running his along her arms, ending with them on her shoulders, thumbs on her collarbone. “Keep your arms as they are,” he ordered as his thumbs traced a line up her neck to her jaw. “So soft.” The combination of Simon’s kisses, his seductive tone, his gentle touch that belied the power of his hands, his appraising and appreciative gaze, and the heat from his throbbing cock on her skin had Jane squirming. Her entire body felt flushed. Her nipples were standing tall, begging for attention. Her pussy felt as if it were overflowing with anticipation. “Please,” she whispered. “Please? What do you want? Tell me.” “You.”

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“Me? What part of me? In what way do you want me?” He teased her bottom lip with his thumb, finally pressing the tip into her mouth. Instantly, Jane sucked, pulling it fully into her mouth. “Mm,” she moaned. Simon’s cock jumped. “Ah. I see. Is that what you want first? To suck my cock?” He worked it over her flesh and she could feel the pre-cum forming. “Tell me.” He withdrew his thumb. “Jane. I said tell me.” “Yes. Please.” “More. Say it.” “Yes. I want your cock, to suck your cock. Please.” “Good girl,” he praised, propping a pillow under her head and shifting closer to her waiting mouth. When she tried to reach for him, he prevented her. “Arms in place.” “But…” “No buts. Either remain as I position you or suffer the consequences.” His simple declaration was more than enough to make Jane gulp nervously. “Consequences? Like what? You going to tie me up and spank me?” “There’s no need to tie you although I’m sure I will at some juncture. No, you will hold your place because I say you will, because you want to do that for me. Don’t you?” “Yes,” she replied softly. “And as we’ve discovered, spanking is hardly a deterrent for you. Threatening to withhold further sessions would likely prove more effective in your case. Do you agree?” “Yes.” Simon teased the tip of his cock closer but not quite within reach of Jane’s mouth. She wanted to lift her head and stick out her tongue as far as she could to lap at the drops that were forming. She wanted to wrap her arms around his thighs and pull him to her. However instead of doing what she wanted, she looked up into Simon’s piercing stare and licked her lips. “May I please taste your cock, Simon?” “Excellent,” he announced. “Yes, Jane, you may.” “Thank you.”

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With that, Simon eased forward until Jane’s lips covered the tip of his cock. She eagerly sucked the pre-cum and moaned in appreciation. That caused Simon’s hips to buck, shoving his shaft deep into her throat. The struggle to keep her arms above her head was overshadowed by her desire to please him. She had no experience in this without the use of her hands to add to the stimulation. What if Simon decided she was too inept and wouldn’t give her the chance to get the hang of it? That thought made her redouble her efforts. She pressed her head back into the pillow, trying to gain more movement. Her tongue curled to massage the throbbing vein as she increased the suction of her lips. When she heard Simon’s unintelligible murmur she felt rewarded. Apparently she wasn’t as lacking as she feared. He withdrew enough for her to get another taste. At her hum of delight, Simon swore, steadily plunging deeper into her mouth. “Spread your legs,” he growled. “Bend your knees.” Jane was so involved lavishing attention on his cock that it took a minute for Simon’s commands to register. She obeyed and received a caress on her cheek. Unconsciously she started to raise and lower her hips in conjunction with her mouth. Without any warning Simon’s palm glanced her sopping pussy with a stinging slap. She gasped around his shaft and heard him chuckle. The second swat wasn’t as much of a surprise but the sensation was greater. It hurt in such an amazing way she couldn’t help lifting upward in a silent request for more. The third blow had Jane moaning, the sound vibrating along Simon’s length. His fingers probed her pussy, causing it to clench around them. He established a pattern, penetrate then slap, slap then penetrate, matching the rhythm with his cock in her mouth. Her hands fisted on the edge of the pillow he’d placed beneath her head. Jane couldn’t remember ever feeling anything like this before in her life. It was incredible. Even more so than when he’d spanked her arse earlier. Before long she gave in and was swept away by the pleasure of his hand. “Good girl,” Simon praised as he eased his swollen cock from her mouth. “Simon,” she said in confusion, her heart sinking at not having made him climax with her. “Shhh, luv, no worries. You’re a brilliant cock sucker.” “But…”

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“Stop.” He shifted back, forcing her legs together as he went. He angled his erection downward and slowly worked it back and forth along her slit, pressing her legs tighter to increase the pressure. Jane panted, trying unsuccessfully to arch up to meet him. “Oh please.” Simon chuckled. “Please what? I believe we’ve already established you need to state what it is you’re begging for.” “Simon. Please. I want you.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Inside. I need you. Please.” Pinning her with his heated gaze, Simon reached under the pillow and extracted a condom that Jane didn’t know was there. He covered himself then deliberately moved between her thighs. He bent her knees, pressing them to her chest. With the tip poised against her opening, he said, “This is why I didn’t come in your mouth this time.” He thrust forward, impaling her in one quick movement, grinding his pelvis against hers. “We’ll save that for another time. Don’t worry. You’ll have plenty of opportunities.” “Yes,” Jane gasped as he withdrew and slammed back into her. “Oh God, more.” At her urging, Simon repeatedly pounded his swollen cock deep into her spasming pussy. “Hold your knees,” he snapped. She’d been holding the pillow so tightly it took a moment for Jane to unclench her fingers. Her arms felt like rubber but somehow she managed to do as ordered. Simon’s nonstop pumping had her pulling her thighs even further apart. She was trembling as she gasped for breath between moans. When Simon leaned back, creating space for his hand, the last thing she expected was the hard flick he delivered to her clit. She screamed, the sensation was so intense. He plunged forward. In and out. Over and over, interrupting the cycle randomly to flick her. “Do you like that, Jane? Tell me. Do you like your clit spanked?” “Mm. Ooh. Simon.” His thrusts became punishing, his fingers brutal. “I asked you a question. Answer me.” “Yes! Oh yes, Simon, yes. Harder. Please.”

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Their moans turned to grunts as Simon angled his cock so each stroke ended against her g-spot. It only took a few for Jane to spiral wildly out of control, her convulsing pussy pulling Simon with her. “Wow,” Jane whispered when she could finally speak again, just as she was about to doze off. “Well put,” Simon agreed tiredly.

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Chapter Six

“You’re wearing jeans,” Jane gawked in surprise. “I don’t believe it.” “What’s not to believe? I’m an ordinary bloke. Of course I own a pair of jeans.” Jane blushed as he led her from the room. “I didn’t mean anything bad. It’s just I wasn’t expecting it.” Her face flushed hotter as her eyes travelled over his lower body. “You look great in them.” “Why thank you, luv,” he chuckled. “I thought we’d start for home after breakfast.” “So soon? Why? I was planning on staying longer.” “I know but I want to get back this afternoon. I’d like an unhurried morning with you before I have to go into the office Monday. Besides, we can come again sometime.” “Oh. Okay,” Jane agreed in amazement. He had been serious about her going home with him. Though he’d said so the night before she hadn’t known if he meant it or not. “Did you doubt me when I told you I wanted you in my home?” he asked knowingly. She frowned. “How did you know I was thinking that?” “You have a very expressive face. I particularly appreciated that while you were coming.” “Simon,” she gasped, looking around the dining room to see if anyone had overheard his comment. He laughed. “I thought American women were bolder and could handle that sort of teasing.” “And I thought British men were too stuffy to talk about this stuff in public,” she countered. “I guess we’re both extraordinary then, aren’t we?” “Yes, I guess we are.” She echoed his smile. “You said you wanted to get back this afternoon. I know it doesn’t take that long to get to Ripon. What are we going to do in the meantime?” At his chuckle, she blushed again. “Oh damn, that’s not what I meant.”

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“Isn’t it? Are you sure? You seemed to enjoy the experience as much as I did last night. Or am I mistaken?” “No. I did too.” “Glad to hear it. That wasn’t however, what I had in mind for the rest of the morning. I thought we’d stop off a few places that may interest you along the way and save that for when we get home.” He winked when the waiter appeared next to their table. “Fine,” Jane squeaked, thrown by this playful, relaxed side of him. “Are you all right?” Simon asked when they were alone again. “Yes. It’s just that you seem so different this morning.” “Different? How so?” “I don’t know. It’s like you’re not as rigid or something.” She realised what she’d said as soon as he grinned. “Oh no.” “It’s fine, Jane. I think I know what you’re referring to and you could be right, though not quite the way you’re thinking. I am feeling more mellow today. Perhaps because I got the girl so to speak. In more than one way as it were.” Jane stared. “You made another joke. Wow. Amazing what good sex does for you.” “Yes, isn’t it,” he agreed just as their breakfast arrived.

“Make yourself at home,” Simon said as he showed Jane in. “I just need to check the machine and I’ll be right with you.” “Where’s the bathroom?” Jane asked. Simon pointed. “End of the hall on the right.” Before Jane could locate Simon by following his voice, she noticed a picture on the wall. It was of Simon in what she thought were graduation robes standing between a couple, she guessed his parents since the man was an older reflection of him. Upon closer inspection, she felt as if she might pass out. Or be sick. The woman beside him was definitely Hettie. Jane’s head was spinning. Her Hettie. Mrs. Agate who had been so sweet and kind to her. The whole time. While she was repeating everything Jane said to her demented son, Simon. No wonder he knew so much about things he had no way of knowing. What sort of twisted

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game were they playing? And why choose her? Did she have a sign on her that only demented people could see, instructing them to victimize her? Jane made her way back to the door as quietly as she could. She had to get out of there without alerting Simon. Her hand shook when she grabbed her bag but she managed to slip out unnoticed. With every step she took, her anger grew. Instead of turning around to confront Simon, she opted for Hettie. For the first time in ages, luck was on her side. She got to the square just as the bus to Harrogate was about to depart. Running the last half block, she hopped on just in time. All the way from Ripon to Harrogate, Jane fumed. She had no idea what to say but she’d definitely be saying something when she got back to Agate’s. Jane stormed all the way from the bus stop to the guest house. “Hettie Agate,” she yelled, slamming the door. “Where the hell are you? Get your butt out here. Now! I want to talk to you.” “Janey?” Hettie appeared from the second floor. “I’m here. What’s all this racket?” “How could you? I trusted you! And you, you…” Jane burst into tears. “Everything I said.” “Shhh. It’s all right,” Hettie soothed, guiding Jane to the kitchen. “Sit down and we’ll talk.” Jane gasped for breath between sobs. “Why Hettie?” Hettie stood beside Jane’s chair and hugged her. “Why? Because my son is in love with you.” “What? What did you just say?” “He’s in love with you. Arse over teacups. He’s never been in love before so he needed all the help he could get. You’re perfect for him and I didn’t want to see him muck it up.” “Huh? How can you stand there and, and,” she had to pause to collect herself. “How can you say that so calmly? It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of. You don’t know me.” “Oh but I do. I suspect much better than you do on certain things.” Hettie sat down but held onto Jane’s hand as if she were afraid Jane might try to get away. “How? What do you mean?”

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“Just that I recognise things in you that remind me of myself when I first met Simon’s father. We’re a lot alike in some ways.” “What ways?” Hettie considered Jane for a moment. “I’ll be blunt, shall I? I’m guessing you didn’t tell Simon you were coming back here?” Jane shook her head. “Then he’ll be along shortly. Something happened the day you went to the abbey, didn’t it? Something that you never experienced before.” “How did you know?” “I didn’t really. Just a guess by the look on your face. And the way you decided to suddenly rush off to the seaside which you hadn’t mentioned before. I suppose I should feel guilty for telling my son your plans every day but I liked you the moment you got here. That night was when he started ringing to ask about you.” “He did?” “Mm hmm. He was fascinated. More so than I’d ever seen him before. As I got to know you I realised you are the girl for him. When you mentioned seeing him, you had this look about you that said you were drawn to him too. If only you can find a way to open your heart again, Janey. I don’t know the extent to which Simon resembles his father and I don’t really want to but I do know they had many conversations about acting in a certain manner with women before my husband passed.” “Oh,” Jane felt her cheeks heat and Hettie squeezed her hand. “It’s okay, luv. I still don’t want to know the details. I can guess enough that you don’t need to explain. Like you, I had no understanding of that particular sort of thing before I met Adrian. Needless to say I was shocked. Both by him liking to do it and by me liking it done.” “Yes,” Jane whispered in agreement. “I thought us a bit pervy just as you do.” Jane nodded, blushing hotter. “It’ fine. Perfectly normal as long as you both enjoy the same things.” “You really mean you?” Jane let the question hang, unfinished.

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“Yes, dear. I like a good spanking now and again too.” “Oh. My. God.” Hettie laughed. “Our time here is limited. I warned you I was going to be blunt.” “But, but, oh my God.” “Calm down. Breathe. As I said there’s nothing wrong with that.” “No. I guess not. But what about the rest of the time? Did your husband control everything else too?” “Yes and no. Oh I let him think so. You’re a woman. You know how that is.. Adrian liked to appear to be in charge and I loved his strength so I didn’t mind that. I suppose to others it may have seemed like everything was always done his way, but the truth is the only place he was really in control was in the bedroom. The rest of the time we were equals. He respected my thoughts and opinions as much as I respected his. And we shared everything. My son is similar to his father in many ways but still I do wish you could have met him. He was a wonderful man. He just happened to like a little more slap with his tickle than some do.” “Hettie!” The front door slammed. “Jane! Mother!” “Oh my, he is in a state,” Hettie exclaimed. “In here,” she called. “Bloody hell, woman,” he began, glaring at Jane. “If you ever run out on me like that again I swear I’ll…” “You’ll what?” Hettie interrupted to remind him they weren’t alone. “Simon, Jane was upset since you failed to mention our relationship. Think what a surprise it was for the poor girl finding out on her own like that.” “Mother, stay out of this.” “I will not and don’t raise your voice to me. Jane is a guest here and I’ll thank you to remember that.” Simon scowled. “She is more than a guest. She’s mine and you’re the one who needs… What is on your feet?”

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“Crocs.” Hettie extended her leg and rotated her foot to display her shoe. “Aren’t they lovely?” “They’re green.” “Yes. And they’re the most comfortable things I’ve ever had on my feet.” “But they’re green. Don’t those blasted things come in any normal colours?” Jane and Hettie both laughed. “I think he needs a pair too,” Hettie decided. “His birthday’s coming up. We’ll have to order him some.” “I’d never!” He looked horrified. “It’s okay, Simon. We’ll get you the camouflaged ones,” Jane said. “You’re both daft if you think I’m ever wearing them. Now stop changing the subject.” “Simon dear, it was you who did that,” Hettie pointed out. Simon glared. He sighed in frustration. “Mum. If you’ll excuse us?” “Actually no, I can’t. I was about to start the baking when Janey came in. I want to get it done before the others are back this afternoon.” He tensed. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. Grabbing Jane’s arm and yanking her from the chair, he growled, “Come on.” “Hey. Ow. Let go. That hurts. Don’t pull so hard,” Jane complained all the way up two flights of stairs because Simon continued to tug her behind him. “What are you doing?” “Taking you to my room.” “Your room? She put me in your room?” “Yes, my room. Where you belong.” He released her and leaned against the closed door. “Strip.” Jane stood, her chest heaving as she stared in disbelief. “You’re out of your fucking mind if you think that’s happening before…” Simon very deliberately unbuckled his belt and pulled it from his pants. “Language, Jane. Now strip.” Looking between Simon’s stony face and the belt that dangled menacingly from his hand, she slowly removed her clothes. Her hands were shaking. She gulped nervously. “Simon, you’re not really going to use that are you? Oh please don’t.”

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He waited until she was naked. “I should since you ran out on me again.” “I was upset. I saw that picture and just reacted without thinking. I…” “Enough.” He dropped the belt and removed his own clothes. Flipping off the blanket, he propped himself against the headboard as she watched him closely. “This is your only warning so listen well. The next time you take off instead of speaking to me, I will tie you and I will use my belt on you,” he paused. “Do you understand?” Jane nodded. “When I ask you a question I expect a verbal response.” “Yes, Simon. I understand.” “Good. Now across my lap.” She started to straddle him but he stopped her. “No, not that way. Hands and knees across me. Keep your back flat.” Jane’s flush spread down her chest as she realised what he wanted. “Oh. Um, okay.” She crawled onto the bed and positioned herself. “Excellent,” Simon declared, caressing her arse before tugging on her nipple. “You owe me an apology for making me come after you.” “I’m sorry.” The first swat landed half on each cheek. “Ow. I’m really sorry.” The second caught one fully. “I am, Simon. I shouldn’t have left like that.” The third got the other side. “I won’t do it again.” He alternated steadily, pausing between each for her to continue. Occasionally he emphasised the crack by pinching or slapping her engorged nipples. When her breathing turned ragged, he stroked her burning flesh, finally brushing his fingertips over her slit. Jane gasped, arching back into his hand and earned a few quick swats. “Back flat.” She regained her position. “Simon please.” He continued to spank her. “Please what? Be specific.” “Ooh,” she gasped at the stinging pleasure, tears streaming from her eyes. “Please. Please touch me.” A slap to each cheek. “Where?” “My, my pussy. Please Simon, your fingers. Inside.”

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“Push your arse out,” he commanded, guiding her into place, tapping the inside of her thighs to get her to spread her knees until she was lying across him. “Stay like that.” “Yes, Simon.” “Good girl.” She was rewarded with a strategically placed blow that caught her clit, followed by two fingers invading her needy hole. “Mm, yeah. Please. More. Don’t stop.” He didn’t. Simon kept up the stimulation, adding to it by squeezing her breasts until she was trembling. “Come for me,” he demanded, delivering a sharp swat to her slit. “Now.” Jane screamed. She couldn’t have denied him had she wanted to. The feeling of his hand was too much to resist. Simon plugged her with his fingers, flexing as her muscles clenching around them. He waited until she was still. “Look at me,” he paused until she had. “When we leave here today, it will be permanent for you. From now on you’ll be staying at my house, our house.” She gawked, not sure what he meant. “For how long?” she asked, pressing into his renewed caresses. “I said permanently. You’ll be staying forever.” “With you?” “Yes.” Her mind balked but her body was already responding to his probing fingers. “Just like that. Ooh.” She stroked herself on his unmoving hand. “Why would I?” “One.” A sharp swat. “Because I said so.” Another. “Two, because you want to.” Another. “You want me to take care of you.” “Take care of me? Now hold on here.” She struggled to escape but was stopped by one hand pressing down on her back and the other plunging back into her pussy. “I said you want me to take care of you, Jane. Not that you needed me to. There is a huge difference.” “Oh,” she considered it. “Yeah. But…”

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Simon resumed the intermittent spanking. “But what?” “I can’t move in with you just like that.” “Of course you can.” He flicked her clit. “You yourself said you need a place to start over. Why not do that in Ripon? With me.” “You make it sound so easy. Ah.” She worked herself on his fingers. “It can be easy if you do as I say,” he waited but she merely moaned without speaking. “Miss Templeton?” “Are, mm, are you always going to call me that when you want your own way over something?” she asked, beginning to shiver. “No.” He spanked her. “I’d prefer to call you Mrs. Agate.” Jane’s head snapped up. She stared, her mouth hanging open. “Wh-what did you just say?” “I said I’d rather call you Mrs. Agate than Miss Templeton.” “You mean that?” “Yes, Jane, I do.” He tenderly stroked her face, catching a tear. “You want me to take care of you but you don’t need me to. I, however, need to do so. For the rest of our lives.” She stared wordlessly until he surprised her with a series of swats to her clit. “Oh God.” “Do you want to come again?” He spanked her cheeks when she didn’t respond instantly. “Ooh, Simon, yes.” “Are you going to let me take care of you?” His fingers pumped. “Yes, ah, Simon.” “And are you going to take care of me?” Flicks. “Oh, oh yes.” “Forever?” Slaps. “Yes. Oh God, Simon. Yes.” “As Mrs. Agate?” “Yes. Mm, please, yes.”

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“You’ll do as I say?” A flurry of each. “Yes, ooh yes, Simon.” “Good girl.” His fingers curled perfectly. “Then come for me.” She did. Jane was sprawled across his lap when she felt his fingertips pressing to her lips. As she licked them clean, he asked, “Do you like the taste of your pussy on me, Jane?” “Yes, Simon.” “Brilliant. Because now you are going to shift and ride my cock until you come again. Then you are going to suck it until I do.” When she just smiled, he gave her a final swat to set her in motion. “Now, Miss Templeton.” “Yes, Simon.” Jane climbed onto his pole and started to glide up and down. “And do you know what happens after that?” “Um,” Jane stalled, squeezing his shaft tightly until he moaned with her. “Then we go?” “Where?” Simon helped her by grasping her hips. “To Ripon?” “More.” “Home. Home to Ripon.” She was nearly there. “For how long?” “For-for-forever,” Jane cried as she climaxed. A few minutes later, Simon added, “Yes. Forever. Now I want to come. Suck my cock. Mrs. Agate.”

About the Author For Barbara Huffert, reading has always been a favourite pastime. A few years ago, she started her first novel after one of the friends she trades books with challenged her to write something better than the last book they read. Barbara’s been writing ever since. With her three opinionated cats sprawled wherever is most inconvenient, she now spends her days happily wandering through the worlds of her characters. Email: [email protected] Barbara loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totalebound.com.

Also by Barbara Huffert My Last Dark Day

KIT AND MOUSE Dakota Rebel

Dedication To my good friend Barbara Huffert, I am so happy to be involved in this project with you. XoXoXo Dakota

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Manolo Blahnik: Blahnik; Manolo Guinness: Arthur Guinness Son & Company Limited

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Chapter One

“Excuse me miss?” I turned to see a young man standing behind me with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He was blushing severely and biting his lower lip. “Yes?” “Um, my friend over there wants to buy you a drink.” He turned and pointed to the end of the bar. I glanced over to see a tall, muscular, blond guy waving at me. “Then why didn’t he come over here and ask me himself?” “I don’t know.” The kid blushed again and looked down at the floor. “Maybe he’s shy.” “Him?” I laughed softly. “No offense love, but you seem to be the shy one out of that boisterous group.” I had noticed the entire pack of them walk in to the pub an hour earlier. They were drunk and loud and pretty obnoxious. All of them except this one. He was definitely younger than the others, by at least five years. I figured he was legal, but probably not by much. Nineteen, twenty tops. He was also a head shorter than the rest of the guys, which would have made him barely taller than me at five foot five. He was kind of scrawny, with dark hair cut military short and big, wide blue eyes framed by the thickest eyelashes I had ever seen. Basically, he was exactly my kind of man. “What’s your name sweetie,” I asked him. “Mouse,” he said softly. “Mouse? That can’t be your real name.” “No, my real name is Colin. But everyone calls me Mouse.” “I wonder why.” I smiled. “Because I’m so quiet I guess, and I’m kind of small,” he said. “Yeah, I got that. I was being sarcastic. You’re not that great with people are you?” “I’m okay. I just don’t like to talk a lot.” “Not even to me?” “Especially not to you.”

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His answer startled me a little. “What’s wrong with me?” “Well, for starters you’re a vampire.” His face turned so red it was almost glowing. I could see the blood pumping faster up the vein in his throat. Cute and smart…sort of. “What makes you think that?” He gave me an eloquent look, somewhere between confusion and “you’re fucking kidding me, right”. I smiled, making sure my fangs peeked out between my lips. His eyes widened but he didn’t step back, which impressed me. “You’re not so scared you’d run from me?” “I never said I was scared, I’m just not a big fan of vampires.” “I see. And how did you know I was a vampire?” I watched his face to see if he’d attempt to lie to me. But he didn’t. Instead he leaned closer and whispered against my ear. “I could smell you a mile away.” His tone made it sound sensual not offensive. “And what do I smell like?” “Peaches…and death.” He moved back and watched me struggle with my next words. “Not very flattering, love.” I laughed softly, though not because of any humour in the situation. It was more of a nervous laugh. Which was ridiculous. I could have crushed the kid like a bug under my Manolo Blahnik clad heel. But something about the look he gave me made me question that thought as soon as I had it. “It may not sound that way, but it wasn’t meant as an insult, and it is not an unpleasant smell by any means.” He stepped closer again. To casual observers, it must have looked like he was trying to dance with me. Slowly moving forward and back. Touching me then not. As if he couldn’t make up his own mind what to do with me. “You might be a little strange, Mouse.” “Probably a lot actually.” He smiled at me and it brightened his face, making him look even younger. “Probably.” I reached for his hand but he backed up quickly, both hands in his pockets. “Anyway, Jake just wanted me to tell you he thinks you’re hot. So what should I tell him?” “Why don’t you tell him I think you’re hot.” I sipped my drink while I watched for a reaction. And I wasn’t disappointed.

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He started to walk away but stopped quickly. He turned back to me with a half smile on his lips. “I don’t think I want to tell him that.” “Tell him whatever you like then. But if I take anyone home with me tonight, it’s going to be you.” I turned back to the bar. I felt him hesitate for a minute before he walked back to his friends. I kept my eyes forward. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to look down the bar when noise exploded from their end of it. After much catcalling and laughing things settled down. I sipped my wine while I waited for Mouse to come back to me. I don’t know how I knew he would, but I did. Something about the way he’d looked at me told me he would be coming home with me tonight. And I think I kind of knew he would stay. I also knew there was something different about this kid. Some secret lurking just beneath his quiet veneer, something dark and maybe a little violent. When I felt him walk back up to me, I dropped a few pounds on the bar and stood. He never said a word, just followed me to my car, got in the passenger seat and waited to see where I took us. He didn’t seem nervous anymore, which surprised me a little. He had been so shy in the pub, but once we were alone in the car he was just stoic. He already knew I was a vampire. I wasn’t sure how but he knew, and he didn’t seem worried that I would hurt him in any way. This kid was odd. “So do I get to know your name?” His voice shattered my thoughts, bringing me back to the situation at hand. “It’s Kit.” “Nice. Is it short for anything?” “If it is I don’t remember. I have been ‘Kit’ for centuries. So Mouse, how did you know I was a vampire? And don’t give me that smell story again. You knew as soon as you saw me. I want to know how.” “Okay, I used to be a hunter.” I slammed on the brakes, stopping the car in the middle of the road and getting some pretty magnificent cuss words thrown at me by people flying around my car. I stared over at him incredulously.

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“Sorry,” he said a little sheepishly. “I guess I should have told you that before, huh?” “You think? What do you mean you used to be a vampire hunter? You can’t be more than twenty.” “I’m thirty seven,” he said. “I got infected on my last hunt. Some lackeys of the master I was hunting decided it would be fun to see what would happen if they forced me to drink their blood.” “How many?” “Seven.” “Fuck. And you survived it?” “Yeah. I was sick for a long time though. I was lucky they didn’t decide to try to turn me. I think they would have if my brother hadn’t ridden to my rescue and gotten me out of there in time.” I started driving again. It was getting late and I wasn’t really sure anymore how the night was going to end for us. But I wanted to be home just in case. “What happened?” “I gained some of their powers. But I’m still human. We run tests every six months to make sure things are still going okay. My aging has obviously slowed to a crawl, I am stronger than a normal human, and I have great night vision. Plus I can sense vampires from about a mile away now.” “You said we run tests, who is we?” “The British Army.” I looked over at him and smirked. The British Army had started recruiting hunters about a decade ago. Every one I had ever come across looked as if they would snap in half if the wind blew too hard. They also looked as if they would be afraid of their own shadows. “Figures.” “What does that mean?” “Nothing. You just look the part is all. Are you still mortal?” “Well, we haven’t really wanted to test that particular theory.” He laughed, but it was a bitter laughter. “We aren’t all assholes you know?”

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“I know.” He reached over to cover my hand with his and gave it a light squeeze. “I wouldn’t be here if I believed you were at all like that. I probably wouldn’t have stopped hunting if you were all evil bastards. But I have met some pretty decent vamps.” “Am I a decent vamp?” “I’ll let you know.” “You seem a lot more confident now than at the pub,” I said. “I don’t like being in groups. I do better one on one.” “Then why were you out with that crowd?” It’s my brother’s birthday. He conned me into coming out with him tonight. Then he talked me into talking to you. And now here I am.” “Jake is your brother? Is he pissed that I took you home instead of him?” I glanced over at him for a second before turning back to the road. “No. He didn’t really like you, that was me. He knew I wanted to talk to you and that I wouldn’t if he didn’t make me.” He shrugged. “But you knew I was a vampire. Why would you be interested in me?” “I told you, I don’t hate all vampires anymore. Besides, I can’t really date normal girls anymore, so I’ve been looking for a nice Irish vampire girl to take me home with her. Someone with long red hair, green eyes, pale skin and pointy eyeteeth. And there you were, a beautiful vampire just waiting for me. Perfect.” “You’re fucking with me aren’t you?” From the corner of my eye I saw him smile. “Maybe a little. But I do like you, even if I can’t explain why. I sensed you when we walked into that pub and when I finally saw you…I don’t know, I just knew. You know?” Strangely enough I did know. I liked him. There was no real explanation as to why, but I did. I probably fell in love with him during that car ride to my house, but I didn’t realise it until it was too late to do anything about it. Not that I would have. We got to my house a little after midnight. The hills around the house were shrouded in darkness by this time of night. There wasn’t even a moon to show off the land. On nights when the moon was full the view still made me pause to stare at its beauty. I showed him into the sitting room and sat on the sofa while he walked around the room checking out what he called my “antiques.”

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“You know, to me they’re just possessions? I don’t really buy things realising they’ll age as I do.” I smiled when he blushed a little. “Sorry. I didn’t really think of it that way.” “It’s okay. Why don’t you come sit down.” I patted the seat next to me. “Why don’t you come over here?” His voice had gone all husky and didn’t really sound like it belonged to the timid man I’d brought home. I looked at him for a moment. His eyes had hardened slightly and the pulse in his throat had sped up again as it had in the pub earlier. But somehow I knew this was for a different reason. “What are you thinking about, Mouse?” I whispered. “I’m thinking about you getting off that couch and coming over here like I told you to. I’m thinking about kissing you. I’m thinking about making you take off your clothes for me and telling you to suck my cock.” My eyes widened a little. “What’s the matter Kit? I thought you liked me. You asked me to come home with you, remember? Are you changing your mind already?” He stared at me, standing his ground and waiting for my response. The quiet, shy boy I had brought home was gone, replaced by a confident—not to mention sexy as hell—man, who seemed to have come here with a plan to dominate me. I hadn’t been dominated by a man, let alone a mortal, in a really long time. I wasn’t even sure I remembered how to let someone else take control. Vampire women learn to own every situation very early after being turned. Submitting is not a strong suit for any of us. And I had been ridiculously strong-willed as a mortal, so after being turned I’d become even worse. Now, if I wanted Mouse tonight, it looked as if I’d have to think on my feet and figure out how to let him lead me. I stood slowly, smoothing my skirt down my thighs, surprised to find my hands were shaking a little. I walked over to him, standing before him with my chin tilted up slightly, my shoulders squared.

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He reached up to softly caress my cheek. I leaned into his palm but he moved it to wrap behind my neck. He grabbed a handful of my hair, snapping my head back and staring into my eyes. “Are you going to be a good girl and do what you’re told tonight?” “I’ll try.” It was barely a whisper, but he nodded. Then his mouth was on mine, our teeth and tongues crashing violently together. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, to hold myself tighter against his body, but I hadn’t been given permission. So I stood with my hands clenched into fists at my side, waiting for his next command. “Touch me,” he said against my lips. Immediately, I ran my hands up his back and over his shoulders. He kissed me again, slightly softer but still full of passion and heat. His hand tightened in my hair and he pulled me back again. “No biting, and you do what I tell you to do,” he said. “Do you want a safe word?” “No,” I said quickly. Probably too quickly. I wasn’t really thinking about anything but fucking him at that point. “Just in case,” he said with a small smile. “Okay, you pick. I don’t care.” The words tumbled out of my mouth, still without any real thought attached to them. He kissed my ear and inhaled deeply before whispering, “Peaches.” Then his mouth covered mine again. I ran my hands up his neck and wound my fingers in his hair, not as tightly as he held mine, but enough that he knew they were there. He pulled away to look at me again. “Can you let a man dominate you, Kit? How long has it been since you weren’t in charge?” “Years. I don’t know how long exactly.” “Can you do it? Will you do it for me?” “Yes.” “Where’s your bedroom?”

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I took his hand and led him upstairs to the bedroom. I didn’t sleep in it anymore, but I had a maid who came in a few times a week to clean the rooms I didn’t use, so I knew the sheets would be fresh. “This house is huge,” he said. “You can’t possibly need all this space.” He kept switching between normal and dominating and it was throwing me off guard. I was pretty sure that was exactly what he was trying to do, which made it even more unnerving, though not completely unpleasant. It had been a long time since anyone had surprised me, and this guy was chock full of surprises. “There used to be friends and family who lived with me, but now it is just me and the ghosts. I don’t really need the room, but I have lived here so long I can’t imagine leaving. I like it here. Besides, the views are great.” “Ghosts?” His voice held a hint of interest. “Not real ghosts. You were a freakin’ vampire hunter, are you going to tell me you are afraid of ghosts?” “Not afraid,” he scoffed, starting to walk again. “But I don’t like them. I’ve seen a few and it can be very unnerving.” “Unnerving huh?” I smiled a little. “That’s a little of the pot calling the kettle black isn’t it?” “What do you mean?” “Nothing. Look, don’t worry, I’ve never seen an actual ghost in this house.” I opened the door to the bedroom and led him inside. The curtains were open so I flipped the switch to light up the backyard. I had gotten spotlights installed a few years ago to illuminate the hills behind the house. There were no other buildings for miles around here, so the lush greenery of the Irish countryside could be enjoyed uninterrupted from any room at the back of the house. “This is amazing.” Mouse walked over to the window and stared outside. “It’s so beautiful.” I smiled. He looked out with his hands pressed to the glass for a minute, not speaking. I couldn’t even see if he was still breathing. Then he turned to look at me. “Beautiful.”

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“Thanks. I don’t come up here very often anymore. But every time I do I wish I spent more time here. The view is part of what’s made me keep this house so long.” “I wasn’t talking about the view.” He walked back to me and pulled me into his arms. “You are beautiful. I could stare into your green eyes for the rest of my life. I don’t know what you’ve done to me, and I don’t know that I really care. I want you Kit. I want you so bad. But we have to do this my way or I’ll go. Do you understand that?” “Sort of. I don’t understand why, and I probably don’t really care. I am beginning to think it’s you who’s bewitched me. I haven’t wanted a man this much in years. I don’t know what you have done to me, Mouse. I feel like a child. Nervous and silly.” He kissed me again. Only this time it was soft and slow and so sweet I wanted to cry. We stood in the middle of the room wrapped in each other’s arms, kissing like we had been lovers for a lifetime. He felt so familiar, so warm, so much of what I had been missing. It was too comfortable. Too much. My mind was frantic, screaming at me to run away before I got any deeper into this situation that was destined for disaster. But my heart wanted him. My heart wanted to stand in his arms for the rest of eternity. To allow him to hold me and kiss me and comfort me until we both fell to dust. “Peaches,” I murmured against his mouth.

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Chapter Two

“We haven’t even started playing yet,” he said, a small smile turning up the corner of his lips, but he dropped his arms and let me step back from him. “I don’t think we’re playing at all.” “You don’t want to do this? That’s okay. We don’t have to, we can wait if you need to. I don’t want to pressure you into anything you aren’t ready for.” “No, that’s not what I mean. I mean, that scared me.” He looked at me with a puzzled look on his face. He stepped towards me but I backed up again, shaking my head. “I don’t know you. I mean, we just met tonight. This has all been too easy, too familiar. Doesn’t it frighten you? Even a little?” “Maybe a little,” he admitted with a small shrug. “But I knew when I saw you across that crowded pub that we were going to end up here. I already knew what I wanted from you before I even walked over to talk to you. You haven’t had as long to adjust to the thought as I have.” “Mouse, this is going to sound stupid, really stupid considering I know better, but, I think I am falling in love.” “I think I already did.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me against him. His mouth found mine again. It was as hard and fast as it had been earlier, but there was something more than sex behind it now. Some quiet agreement to let the night happen. And just like that we both let ourselves go. There was nothing we could do to change what was happening between us, or would happen to us in the future. All we could do was enjoy the moment and try to pick up the pieces later. “Still no biting,” he said coming up for air. I nodded. It would be hard though. I had been watching his pulse speed through his throat all night and I wanted to taste him. But he was the boss so I would restrain myself…for now. “Get on the bed.”

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I climbed up on the bed and sat with my back to the headboard, my ankles crossed. He stood over me with a wicked smile on his face. “Do you have handcuffs?” “No,” I said softly. “That’s okay.” I heard a clanking sound as he reached behind his back. “We can use mine. They’re Army grade so they should hold you pretty well. Lay down and raise your wrists up.” I slid down with my arms up, trying to keep still as he wound the cuffs around the slats in the headboard. He grabbed one of my wrists then the other to bind me to the bed. “Is that too tight?” he whispered. I shook my head, giving him a small smile. He shifted his body so he straddled my thighs. His face was inches from mine, so close I could smell the Guinness he’d been drinking earlier on his breath and a deep, muskier smell that was all his. He moved his face to the side of my neck and started to gently lick and nip at the skin. He bit down hard, making me jump and pull at the cuffs. “You said no biting,” I accused quietly. “I meant that you can’t bite me.” “Some people would call that lying.” He laughed then bit me again, not as hard but still bringing a gasp out of my mouth. His hands roamed over my breasts and down my waist. He moved his body lower too, trailing kisses down my chest. When he reached the buttons on my shirt he carefully bit off each one, spitting them across the room before continuing his tongue-guided tour of my body. He nudged at me to raise my hips so he could slide my skirt down my legs. He threw it on the floor then spread my legs apart. I was glad now that I hadn’t worn any knickers tonight. I struggled against the cuffs, wanting to touch him, but he glared at me so I lay back and tried to enjoy the feeling of his hands and his mouth on me. He moved up to place a pillow under my head. “I want you to look at me while I eat your beautiful pussy.”

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He slid back down my body, using his hips to push my legs further apart. I watched him move, so much more confident than me at the moment. He knew what he wanted and how he was going to take it from me. I, however, was a wreck. I felt like a virgin in his hands. It was strange to feel his effect on me. I barely knew him, and yet, it felt as if I had known him forever. Was this what fate felt like? The sensation of his mouth between my legs snapped me back to attention. I looked down to see that he was staring up at me. His blue eyes flashed for a moment before he sucked my clit into his mouth. The suddenness of it brought my back off the bed as far as the bindings would allow. He forced me back down with a firm hand on my torso, but he didn’t stop his hard suckling. He pulled his hand down so he could ram two fingers inside of my drenched pussy. My hips squirmed but he didn’t make me stop moving. He fucked me with his fingers, hard and quick until I came screaming. My hands clawing at the bedposts while the cuffs dug into the flesh on my wrists. He moved his face to kiss a line down the inside of my thigh. His teeth played softly over my knee and still he moved down. He slid off the end of the bed then took my ankle in his hand. He scraped his teeth hard over the bone, drawing a hiss from my mouth. “Do you like that Kit? Do you want me to bite you harder?” All I could do was nod before I dropped my head back onto the pillow. My pussy contracted from the orgasm and my brain felt like mush. It was one of the most intense feelings I had felt in a long time. He licked and sucked around my ankle for a few minutes. Drawing out the anticipation as long as he could. Much longer than I could stand. My body ached for him and he seduced my feet. It was nice, very nice, but I wanted him beside me, I wanted him inside me, not sucking on my ankle. Then he bit down. Hard. His teeth clamped violently onto the sharp bone on the side of my ankle tearing an inhuman scream from my throat. Electric currents ran up my leg straight to my clit, making my entire lower half break out into goose bumps.

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He looked up at me with a wicked smile on his face. He licked a drop of blood from his lip while he watched me. I wanted to tell him not to do that, but after being infected by so many vamps in the past, I figured one more wasn’t going to hurt him. He must have agreed because he dipped his head back down to lick another trail of blood off of me. The feel of his tongue was rough against the small wound he had left. I could already feel the bite healing over, but the fact he had caused any damage at all surprised me. “What’s wrong, love?” “Nothing,” I said quickly. “You have a look.” “I’m just a little surprised is all. I would think that after what happened to you that you wouldn’t purposely ingest vampire blood.” “It was only a little. And I don’t think that’s what surprised you anyway. Did you think I wouldn’t hurt you? Or maybe that I couldn’t?” “There may have been a little of that too.” He moved up my body, his face was inches from mine before he stopped. “Don’t worry Kit, I won’t hurt you any more than your beautiful body can handle. I promise.” I nodded. It wasn’t physical pain I was worried about. I could tell by the weight of the cuffs that I could break them if necessary. And extra human strength or not, a mortal man could never match the brute force of an angry full vampire. No, I wasn’t so much scared of him killing me as I was of him hurting me in some deeper way. I didn’t usually bring men home. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with it. I just don’t do casual. But he had already proved to me that tonight was going to be anything but casual. The whole situation frightened me a little. In the several centuries I had existed, I had loved before, but never so fast. Never with someone I didn’t even know. It was all so new I wasn’t sure how to handle it at all except to just go with it. To let it happen and pick up any broken pieces of myself later. He kissed me, bringing me back to the present situation. I was quickly reminded that I was naked and handcuffed to a bed with a gorgeous man hovering over me. I was reminded that I wanted him inside me. The ache in my pussy became even more pronounced when he dropped between my legs and ran his jean clad cock up my sensitive slit.

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“You know that we’re just getting started, don’t you Kit? I may want you, but I am nowhere near ready to fuck you yet. First you have to earn it. You have to prove to me that you want me. And you have to beg me for it.” “I don’t beg,” I said automatically. “Then I guess it’s going to be a long night.” He climbed off of me and began removing his clothes. It wasn’t exactly a striptease, but he was making it deliberately slow and erotic. First he unbuttoned his shirt, dropping his hands behind his back to let it slide to the floor. Then he pulled his T-shirt over his head, exposing some fantastically chiselled abs. He watched my eyes as he unbuttoned his jeans and slowly pushed them over his hips, gracefully stepping out of them. He stood before me naked, but thanks to the bindings all I could do was stare. Dressed he had looked like a skinny, gangly boy. Naked, his body showed the smooth muscles and shiny scars of a man who had seen and done some scary things. He was perfection in a flesh wrapper, standing before me waiting for me to beg him to fuck me. Unfortunately, vampires are not very good at begging. Oh sure, we want things, sometimes really bad. But we get in the habit of just taking what we want when we want it. I had a feeling that was his point tonight. That I couldn’t just have him. The game was not so much about dominating me to obtain pleasure from my pain. This was a domination where he wanted me to let go of the power. I had to let him control the situation, the evening, even me. Fuck, I sucked at that. “Have you changed your mind?” He had moved back to the side of the bed. “Have you decided that you can’t really be dominated? Too power hungry to let go?” “No,” I said, my voice full of false confidence. “I can take anything you think you can dish out.” “I guess we’ll see.” He climbed onto the bed and straddled my chest. His hard cock was just inches from my mouth. I knew what he wanted me to do, but I could play this game too. I could make him think he was in control even if I knew better. He gripped himself in his hand and rubbed the tip of his cock over my lips. I had a moment to contemplate letting my fangs extend, to show him he wasn’t winning yet, but thought better of it just as he shoved himself in my mouth.

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He tasted faintly salty with a hint of sweetness. He began slowly, rocking his hips, pushing himself gently in and out of my mouth. I relaxed my throat, waiting for him to move faster, to start ramming into the back of it. But he kept his pace even, pushing himself over my tongue, stopping just before hitting my throat, pulling out until just his tip was inside my mouth, then pushing in again. I wanted him to go faster. I wanted him to slam himself inside me. I wanted to bring him off with my mouth, but he had other plans for me. I started to move my head in rhythm with his thrusts, but his hands moved to hold me still. He glared down at me in silent warning and I stopped trying, giving in to his desires instead of my own wishes. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he whispered. He pulled out of my mouth and slid gracefully down to kiss me. His mouth locked onto mine making me pull at the cuffs to try to move closer. I didn’t want him to know I could break free, not yet, so I didn’t pull too hard. But the weight of the metal against my skin and the clanking of them on the bedposts made me whimper. I felt his lips curl into a smile against mine. His hands tangled in my hair, pulling my head back against the pillow. He held me there for a few minutes, fucking my mouth with his tongue the way he had just done with his cock. A low growl escaped my throat as I shifted my hips trying to get him inside of me. He got off the bed and walked over to his clothes. I watched him pull the cuff key out of his jeans before he walked back to me. He undid one of the cuffs. “Turn around.” I looked at him for a moment before doing as I was told. When I was on my stomach he climbed over me and reattached the cuffs. He sat on my ass, holding me down, while he started massaging my back and shoulders. I pressed my face into the pillow and tried to enjoy the feeling of his hands on me, tried to forget the screaming need to feel him inside me. But the more he touched, the harder he pressed against me, the more pronounced that need became until I was grinding against the bed, surprisingly close to begging. Damn, he was good.

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Chapter Three

He moved off of me again and my skin grew cold from the absence of his heat. I turned my head to look for him but he was out of my line of sight. The room had gone completely silent and I started to wonder if he had quietly slipped out. He hadn’t. A quick, sharp pain exploded down my thighs as his hand connected with my ass. The sound and the burning sensation came at the same time. I jumped in surprise and heard him chuckle. Another loud crack filled the air as he spanked me again then again and again. My pussy flooded with need at the viciousness of his hand striking my ass. The warm pain blooming across my ass made me want him more than his mouth sucking my clit had. “Yeah, that’s what you need, isn’t it? You need some pain with your sex, don’t you?” His hand came down on my ass again. “Answer me. You like being spanked like a bad girl don’t you?” “Yes, fuck yes, I love it.” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. And I didn’t really care anymore. “Do you want more?” “Yes.” He spanked me again. His smacks became harder each time they connected with my skin. Over and over again he spanked me. He spanked me until I swore my pussy dripped cum down my legs. I couldn’t tell if it was sweat or my own juices making my thighs wet but I knew I ached for release. I wanted to close my thighs, to try to apply some pressure to my throbbing clit, but his knee had crept between them. He wasn’t nearly close enough to rub against, but I couldn’t press my legs together either. “You’re so wet I can smell you. You do like to be punished.” His hands massaged my ass, applying deep pressure to the burning flesh. I hissed at the feel of it which made him spank me again. “Hush.” His voice was so commanding and stern. I loved this, more than I would have ever admitted to him, but it was so fucking sexy. I couldn’t believe this was the same boy I’d

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picked up in the pub. All traces of his shy, quiet demeanour were gone now, replaced by this hardened man who was going to stay in control. I had been wrong. I couldn’t win. I might be able to overpower him, but there was no way I would end up in control tonight. He had known exactly what he was doing all along. I could hold out for a while longer, but he was going to own me. That thought brought an intense calm over me. The ache between my thighs slowed and it felt as if every muscle in my body relaxed. I could accept him and everything he wanted me to do. I trusted him. I wasn’t entirely sure where that had come from, but realising he was in control released something in me. He was my master now, and I would do as I was told. “What happened?” He lay on top of my back so he could talk against my ear. “Your whole body just relaxed. What are you thinking about?” “Nothing,” I said. “I am yours and I will only do what I’m told.” “Really?” He moved down to settle between my legs. “That’s a good girl. Maybe you deserve a little reward.” He slid his fingers inside my pussy again, I was so wet there was absolutely no resistance to him. His thumb found my clit and within seconds I came. My hands clawed at the bedposts and I heard the cuffs snap as I pulled at them. “Those were my best cuffs,” he said, pulling his fingers out of me and sitting up quickly. “How the hell did you do that?” “You shouldn’t have wasted them on a vampire,” I said. I turned over and grabbed his wrists, pulling him up my body. He kissed me, his hands finding the mangled cuffs still around my wrists to hold me down on the mattress. He pressed between my legs and I knew that I could manoeuvre him inside me with ease. But I didn’t. Breaking free hadn’t changed the rules. I would let him make me beg for him. I was too damn close to doing it anyway. “Are you going to take me Kit?” He pulled away from my mouth. His hand gripped my chin tightly, forcing me to hold still and stare into his eyes. “No. I want you to take me.” “That’s not begging.” “I know. You haven’t gotten me there yet.”

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“Then I’ll just have to try harder.” He rubbed his cock up and down my soaked slit. “Hold still. Don’t fucking move." I looked into his eyes and nodded. I gasped when he slipped partially inside me. It was just the tip of his cock, and if I shifted at all I knew he would slide inside me. But he had warned me, and I would obey. “Wouldn’t it feel good to feel me push all the way inside your tight little pussy? Would you like my cock to spread you open? Do you want to feel me slam in and out of you?” He pulled out and smiled wickedly when I groaned. “All you have to do is ask me. That’s all. Just beg me and I’ll fuck you like you need to be fucked. It’s not that difficult, is it?” It shouldn’t have been. I did want him to fuck me. I had wanted to feel him inside me since I had gotten him up here. But all I could do was look up at him like an idiot. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He pushed himself just barely inside me again and used his fingers to rub slow, hard circles over my clit. “You are so wet and so soft. I just know you are going to feel so good gripped around my cock. Why won’t you just ask for it baby?” Why wouldn’t I? Because I guess it was difficult to voice what I was feeling. I wanted him so bad, it would only take one little “please”, but something inside of me wouldn’t let me admit to him he’d broken me so quickly. It was going to take more than a spanking and some sexy talk to get me to open up to him. It’s just how I am wired I guess. “Fine.” He pulled out of me. His eyes glowed with some deeper power he hadn’t bothered to share with me before. “Are you sure you aren’t a vampire?” My voice was soft, but I was glad it was even. I would not act scared of some vampire trickery I could do too. I felt my eyes glow in response to his and wanted to curse my lack of control. “I’m sure. Not yet anyway. But we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you and your power trip. Your inability to let someone be in control, even once.” He stood up and looked down at me, his eyes still burning. “I have let you be in control all night.” “No, you haven’t. I know what you’ve been doing, what you’ve been thinking. I know you think letting me slap and tickle you is going to be enough to for me. That you can

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pretend to give yourself over to me but stay in control. I’m not stupid, Kit. And if you can’t lose control, then I’ll just go because everything up until this point hasn’t really meant anything.” I stood and walked over to stand in front of him. I knew he meant it. He would walk out and I’d never see him again if I didn’t ask him for what I wanted. All I had to do was say it. I took a deep breath and looked up into his eyes. “Can I ask you something?” “Yes.” “Will you fuck me?” He looked a little startled. “What?” “Please? You have been teasing me all fucking night and I want you so bad. Please Mouse, please throw me on that bed and fuck me until we can’t move anymore. Please?” “Really?” “Am I not begging hard enough?” I dropped to my knees to take his cock in my mouth and sucked him until he was hard and ready again, which really didn’t take all that long. I let him slip from between my lips before looking up at him again. “Please Mouse, I want to feel this big cock inside of my pussy. Please? Do I need to beg harder? I’m on my knees, Mouse. Please?” He pulled me to my feet and kissed me, forcing me to walk backward until I hit the edge of the bed. I scooted backward under him as we climbed up onto the mattress together, never breaking our kiss. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Please, shut up and fuck me.” He didn’t ask again. I wrapped my legs around his waist and he slammed himself inside me. I wasn’t quite as wet as I had been earlier, but it still felt amazing. I clenched my muscles around his cock which drew a hiss from him. His eyes were glowing again when he looked down at me and I could tell from the look on his face that mine were too. He shifted my hips up slightly and I knew I wouldn’t last much longer as the head of his cock found that special spot deep inside of me. He rubbed himself over and over that spot, moving much faster than any mortal should have been able to. “Kit bite me.”

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“Mouse—” “I said fucking bite me. Now.” I bit into his shoulder. As soon as his sweet, coppery blood flooded my mouth I came. I drank and drank from him while my body shuddered under him and his cock pushed in and out of me. I felt his muscles tighten and he cried out as he came, too. I pulled away from his shoulder before I lost control completely and accidentally killed him. He collapsed on top of me, his chest heaving and our bodies sticky with sweat. I wrapped my arms around him and softly licked at the two neat puncture wounds I had left on him. He growled against my neck and I giggled. I didn’t even know I knew how to giggle, but he made me. He’d made me do a lot of things I didn’t know I could do. “So, I’m guessing that being able to smell and hear real good aren’t the only vamp powers you got, huh?” “I may have left some things out.” At least, he had the manners to sound sheepish about it. “I guess you can beg a man to fuck you, huh?” “That’s not fair, I didn’t know that about myself. You knew you had glow-y eyes and could fuck like a dynamo.” I thought back to something he had told me earlier. “You weren’t really kidding about not being able to have sex with mortal girls were you?” “Well, I can have sex with them, but I can’t fuck them like that. I might kill them if I tried.” He took my hand in his and brought it up to his mouth to kiss it. “Glow-y eyes? Is that the technical vampire term for it?” “I don’t know. Everyone I’ve ever known called them that. Don’t make fun of me or I will kick you out of this house.” I pulled my hand away from his to point at the door. “Liar.” Okay, so maybe I was. Especially since I was now completely convinced that I was in love with him. And all I wanted to do was keep him with me for all eternity. Yeah, there was no way I was going to kick him out. Ever. But something didn’t feel quite right. There was a tension in the air that my begging hadn’t cleared. It wasn’t a fun, “my lover wants to dominate me” tension either. It was almost uncomfortable. “What was tonight really about?” I pulled back a little so I could look into those blue eyes. I fought the urge to kiss him, to even touch him until he answered me.

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He sighed, his whole body heaving with the effort of it. I knew this wasn’t going to be the usual “I just want to have sex” with you talk. This was something big, something he’d been thinking about and not saying all night. This was going to be a talk we probably should have had before I let him into my bedroom and before I’d agreed to any of this. But we hadn’t. So now we’d sit in uncomfortable silence until he was ready to spill it. Without a word, we both moved to the edge of the bed, sitting with our feet on the floor. I watched him wrestle with his thoughts for a few minutes. He kept turning to look at me, opening his mouth, then closing it and staring back down at the floor. It would have been cute if I hadn’t had the feeling this talk was going to be important. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Spill it, Mouse.” “You said you could be dominated. But you knew that wasn’t what I meant Kit. You knew I wasn’t just looking for some cuffed-up slap and tickle.” He spat it out quickly. He was still looking at the floor as he spoke, but when he finished he glanced up at me. Okay, so maybe I had known that deep down this hadn’t all been about bondage-y fun. But that didn’t mean that I knew exactly what he was asking me for. “Just tell me. Please?” “I’ve dreamt of you. For months, I’ve seen you every time I close my eyes. When I saw you in the pub tonight it scared the hell out of me. I thought maybe it was a dream, too, until Jake slugged me in the gut.” The corner of his mouth twitched into a half smile. “In the dreams, I couldn’t tell you were a vampire. And while I don’t hate vamps, I don’t usually choose to engage in activities that give them the opportunity to kill me. Sex with vampires is incredibly dangerous for mortals, as I am sure you know.” “Well yes, of course I know that.” “How many have you accidentally killed?” He looked down at the floor again, apparently not wanting to look at me while I answered. I thought about it for a moment. “Accidentally? None.” He paled a little, but he stood his ground. He’d known what I was before we’d gotten here, I wasn’t going to start lying to him now. Being alive for centuries had taught me there would be plenty of time to lie later.

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“I don’t think I wanted to hear that. But, whatever.” He sighed. “So I met you and after seeing you in person, I wanted you even more than I’d ever wanted you in the dreams. But you frighten me.” “Mouse, I wouldn’t hurt you.” I reached for his hand but he stood and began pacing the room. I watched him intently. I wanted to climb into his head and hear his thoughts. But at the same time, I had a feeling his thoughts could be even more frightening than my own, so I let that particular desire go. “Maybe not on purpose. But I know vamps, and you guys have a different sense of what’s pain and what’s not. Anyway, that’s not my point. My point is that if I’m going to stay with you, if I’m going to give myself to you, I need to know you can give yourself up to me in return. That you can let me control you, that you can let go of the power and let someone else hold your reins.” “So all of this tonight wasn’t really you on a power trip over a vampire?” “No, all of this tonight was to see if I could Top you enough to still be my own man when I let you take me. I had to know, Kit. If you couldn’t let me have the power then I couldn’t stay.” “And now?” “And now I think you feel the same way about me that I’ve felt about you. Now I believe I can trust you and you won’t try to own me or possess me. Now I think I can love you and survive it." “You didn’t think about just asking me?” “Vampires lie. It gets to a point where you either can’t help it or don’t even realise you’re lying anymore. I don’t hold it against you, and I won’t blame you when it starts to happen between us. I just know it will. I’m sorry I wasn’t willing to accept your word that you wouldn’t try to own me.” “How do I know that you won’t try to own me? You’re a strong man.” “I’ll never be as strong as you are. Even if I let you turn me into a vampire, which I haven’t decided yet, you’ll always be the stronger of us.”

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I stared at him. Quickly, I flipped back through the conversation in my head to see if I’d missed something, but I hadn’t. He’d been purposely vague since we’d started talking. This was the first he’d said about me turning him. “Don’t look at me like that.” His voice held a hint of laughter, but it wasn’t happy. “You didn’t see this coming? Or don’t you want to turn me?” “I hadn’t really thought about it,” I admitted. “I figured with the way you felt about vamps, we’d end up having some fun and you’d leave. Or I would. I didn’t think we would stay together.” “Oh. Well, if you just wanted some fun then that’s fine. I thought…I’m sorry. I…wow, I feel like an idiot. Do you want me to go?” His hands were clasped in front of him, as if he was suddenly aware he was naked and desperate for some coverage during a very uncomfortable situation. I was instantly reminded of the quiet, shy boy I’d met only a few hours ago. “Mouse.” “Yeah?” “Shut up.” He looked up at me, showing me his eyes were full of tears on the verge of spilling. I stood up and walked over to him, taking his hands in mine. “Colin, I am not just looking for a little bit of fun. I knew when I first saw you tonight that there was something about you. I knew you would be with me as long as possible. I’ve been terrified all night that you’d walk out of here in the morning and I’d never see you again.” “I told you I love you. I told you before we started tonight that I did. Why would you think I would just leave?” “Vampires aren’t the only ones who lie. Men do it all the time.” He pulled me into his arms, hugging me tightly against his chest. I wrapped my arms around him, running my fingers lightly up and down his back. Some tension I hadn’t noticed released from his shoulders, making it so we practically sagged against each other. “I like you Kit. I really do. And I’d be honoured if you made me yours.” I smiled. “But you don’t want to be mine.”

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“Oh, I want to belong to you. I just wanted it to be my decision, not yours. So why didn’t you turn me?” “When?” “When I told you to.” “You didn’t tell me to.” Now I was confused. “You told me to bite you. Which I did. A lot. You didn’t say ‘Kit fucking bite me then feed me your blood and turn me into a vampire while I fuck you like crazy.’ So I didn’t. Besides, I wouldn’t turn you into a vampire while you were fucking me. Gross.” “Why gross?” He smiled a little when he repeated it. “Because you have to die then wake up a vampire. I don’t really get off on fucking unanimated dead things.” “Well that’s good to know. Does it hurt?” “Does what hurt?” “Dying.” His voice had dropped down to a whisper and I thought he might really be scared of it. His constant changes from confident to nervous to confident again would take some getting used to. But I had a feeling it would soon become one of my favourite things about him. “I don’t want to lie to you. Yeah, it does kind of. But not for long. And after you wake up it never hurts again.” I took his hand again and gave it a soft squeeze. “Colin, you don’t have to become a vampire for me.” “I don’t want to ever leave you. And if I stay mortal then eventually I will die.” “Well yeah, that’s kind of how it works. How about this? You don’t have to become a vampire for me tonight. We have a long time before you’ll need to make that decision. We could have many good years of fun and sex and whatever you want. You don’t have to die to get all that stuff with me. Besides, what if I turn you and ten years from now you decide that you hate me for it?” “You say that like you know it happens.” “Yeah well, I was mortal once too, you know. And now I love being a vampire. I have seen amazing things, I have met amazing people, and I have a great life. But I didn’t always think so. None of us have. You have to get used to it.” I smiled at him. “You’re still angry

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about what the vamps have done to you.” I held up a hand to stop his comments. “And you have every right to be. But I don’t ever want that anger directed at me.” “I get that.” He nodded and leaned over to kiss my cheek. “You’re right. We don’t have to decide tonight.” He climbed off the bed and retrieved the cuff key from the floor where he’d dropped it earlier. “Do you want those off now?” I held my wrists out so he could take the broken metal off of me. I rubbed at the grooves it had left in my skin when I had pulled at them. He kissed the small wounds, running his tongue over them, then sliding my hand down to take one of my fingers in his mouth. I sighed as he gently bit my fingertip. “You do like a little pain with your pleasure, don’t you?” “Doesn’t everyone?” I batted my eyelashes at him, making him laugh. “Only the cool ones.” I laughed too. I leaned over to kiss him. I meant for it to be a quick kiss, but as usual, he had other plans for me. His tongue snaked into my mouth while he used his body to push me back onto the bed. He straddled my hips and ran his hands down my body, his mouth not leaving mine until I was good and pinned under him. “I love you, Kit.” “I love you too, Mouse.” “Will you wait for me?” “I would wait an eternity for you to beg me, my love.” He smiled and kissed me again. I locked my arms around him, not ever wanting to let go. I knew that the sun would be up soon, but I had no desire at the moment to ruin the mood. When the time came, I would slip down to my coffin. But for right now, we would save his sensibilities as much as they could be saved. “Do you have to go soon?” He looked down at me with a sad look on his face. “Are you a mind reader?” “No, just a face reader. You were thinking too hard and looking at the clock then the window then the clock. I was a hunter Kit, I know vampires and the sun are not friends. It’s okay.” I kissed him again. “You are going to take some getting used to. Will you still be here when I get up?”

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“Do you want me here?” “You know I do.” He nodded. I kissed him before pushing him to move off of me. He rolled onto his back with a sigh. Missing him already, I bent over to pick up my skirt and squealed in surprise when his hand connected with my ass. I whirled around to see him grinning like a kid behind me. “You know, perhaps tomorrow we will see what kind of pain you like with your sex there, lover boy,” I playfully threatened. He didn’t look at all worried. “Promises promises,” he said with a laugh. “Good night Kit.” “Goodnight love.” I walked out of the room, closed the door and sighed. Ah yes…True love does conquer all.

About the Author Dakota lives in Detroit Michigan because she loves the city at night and the shopping during the day. She loves David Bowie and vampire movies, The Beatles and Dolly Parton. She is partial to pixie sticks and cannot stand nuts...in her food. She will always believe that pizza is the perfect food. She is as much in love with her partner as she is with herself. And she will be the first to tell you how incredibly witty she is. She doesn't believe in lipstick but won't leave the house without eyeliner. She still won't admit whether or not she really believes that vampires exist. And if you let her, she can convince you she doesn't know how to ride a bicycle.

Email: [email protected] Dakota loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://total-e-bound.com/..

Also by Dakota Rebel Sweet Dreams

BOUND BY LOVE Cassidy Ryan

Dedication For Syd, Lee, Mychael and Loukie, for your support and encouragement.

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Ferragamo: Salvatore Ferragamo Italia S.p.A. Hugo Boss: Hugo Boss A.G. Rolls Royce Phantom: Rolls-Royce Limited

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Chapter One

Rhys Matthews jerked upright in his battered armchair, his head snapping from side to side. He groaned when he realised he’d succumbed to sleep in the old chair in his studio for the third night in a row rather than climb the stairs to the big comfortable bed in his living quarters. A frown wrinkled his forehead and he wondered what had pulled him from sleep. Not a dream, he was sure. He was too damn exhausted to dream these days. The answer to the question came before he had even finished thinking it, and he pushed himself out of the chair, moaning with discomfort as his body’s cramped muscles and aching bones made their displeasure known. He made his way down a short flight of stairs to the front door, feeling significantly older than his twenty-six years. He pulled the heavy, scarred door open and found a uniformed delivery man standing on the other side, a patient smile on his face. “Mr. Matthews?” he asked pleasantly. Rhys squinted against the early morning sun. “Uh, yes.” His voice was thick with sleep and disuse. When was the last time he had spoken to another human being? The man’s smile deepened. “Don’t sound too sure there. Haven’t had your morning coffee?” As he spoke he held out a package wrapped in thick brown paper and a clipboard. “If you would just sign here, sir.” Rhys took the package and tucked it under his arm, then reached out and scribbled his name on the line indicated. “Thank you sir. You have a good day now.” With that the delivery man turned and headed smartly in the direction of his van, parked at the end of the narrow, cobbled lane. Rhys stood in the open doorway for a couple of minutes, blinking dumbly at the package, then, giving himself a mental shake, he shut the door and climbed the stairs back to his studio. For a moment he paused to consider the canvases in front of him. He was preparing for another one-man show, and as usual, had gotten lost in his work.

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He couldn’t help smiling around the inevitable nervous flutter in his empty stomach. He was pleased with the way things were going. Forcing himself to move, lest he get caught up again before he had a chance to shower and eat something—when was the last time he had eaten? He grinned to himself. He’d last eaten about the same time he had spoken to another living being—the boy who had delivered the pizza two nights ago. He placed the package on the battered workbench that held his materials and would have left it there to go upstairs and sort himself some breakfast, but the neat, copperplate handwriting on the wrapping caught his attention. A thrill so intense it took his breath away ripped through his body. He reached for the package and tore at the paper with the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning. Inside was a thrillingly familiar carved-wood box with a brass latch holding it closed, along with a heavy, embossed card the colour of parchment which read, “Meridian, 8:30 tonight.” His entire body come to life. His blood rushed in his veins, his pulse raced and his skin fired. With a hand that was trembling, he unlatched the box and opened it. Although he knew exactly what he would find nestled on a bed of black satin inside, the sight made him lightheaded and made his fingers tingle. “Draven.” The singled word was spoken quietly but was charged with such feeling and emotion it seemed to fill the room. Much like the man himself. Blossoming joy and anticipation chased away all exhaustion and hunger but was tempered with a hint of frustration when he caught sight of the clock on the wall. Nearly twelve hours to wait. He put the box back on the work bench and closed it, running a hand almost reverently over the intricate design etched into the wood. A wide smile curving his lips, he grabbed a palette and started mixing some paint. Perhaps he could channel some of this newfound energy constructively.

It was Friday night, so Club Meridian was busy.

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The door was opened by Roe Harland, a big burly ex-soldier hired to “Keep the peace”. One look at Roe was enough to make anyone rethink the mischief they might have in mind. “Rhys, good to see you again. It’s been a while.” Roe smiled warmly. It transformed his features from forbidding to nearly handsome. Rhys shook the big man’s hand. “Hello, Roe. I’ve been summoned.” His wide smile told how happy he was about that. Roe’s own smile widened as he closed the door to the private club. “Better get going then. Wouldn’t do to keep him waiting.” With mounting anticipation, Rhys made his way through the main body of the club, which looked like an old-fashioned gentleman’s drinking club with its burnished woodpanelled walls, thickly carpeted floors and expensive, yet understated furniture. As always, he admired the sights that met his eyes in the intimate, ambient lighting. Seated in a chair by an open fireplace a handsome man in his forties ran a hand lovingly through the hair of the young woman kneeling at his feet, her head lowered deferentially. On a sofa in a darker corner, another man was being fed small pieces of fruit by a partially clad young man with a look of delight on his face. Rhys moved through the room until he came to the bar and a strikingly beautiful blonde dressed in a figure-hugging white sheath. She held a leash attached to the collar around the neck of an equally beautiful, but smaller woman who wore a short black dress cut low at the neck and high on the thigh. When she saw him the tall woman’s violet eyes lit up with pleasure. “Rhys. darling. How wonderful to see you again.” Rhys offered the woman a small nod. “Hello, Lux. You look stunning, as always.” She smiled and accepted the compliment as her due. Rhys looked at the other woman who had her eyes lowered, but whom he could see was also smiling. He looked back to Lux. “May I?” Lux nodded her assent and Rhys bent down to place a soft kiss on the young woman’s forehead. “You look lovely, Gaia,” he said softly. His eyes rested briefly on the beautifully hand-tooled leather collar at her slender throat. As always he felt a small stab of envy which he quickly pushed away. Gaia tilted her head in question to her mistress. Lux merely nodded again, a small, loving smile on her lips.

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Gaia looked up with warm, chocolate coloured eyes. “Thank you Rhys. You look very nice, too,” she said quietly, then lowered her eyes to the floor again. Lux reached out a hand and touched a single finger to her slave’s cheek in an achingly tender gesture. She turned back to Rhys and inclined her head elegantly in the direction of the stairs. “Draven is in the office.” Thanking Lux he turned and made his way upstairs, fighting the urge to take them two at a time. At the door to the office he stopped and ran a hand over his hair, smoothed out non-existent creases in his charcoal grey suit jacket and made sure that his deep red silk tie was straight. He took a deep, calming breath and knocked on the door. When a wonderfully familiar, deeply resonant voice, called “Enter” he turned the handle and pushed open the door. Though Draven Laird sat behind a polished, rosewood desk, it was easy to tell he was a tall man, perhaps six foot two or three. With wide shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and flat stomach, he had the tight, well-honed physique of a swimmer, without a spare ounce of flesh on his frame despite the fact he was edging up on forty. His short, dark hair was stylishly mussed, his skin lightly olive-toned and his eyes a penetrating green set in an uncommonly handsome face. He was dressed in an exquisitely tailored Hugo Boss suit and a black shirt opened at the throat. He wore no jewellery aside from the gold watch peeking out from the cuff of his jacket. Rhys had always thought that a little curious for a man who owned a chain of highend jewellery stores. Rhys closed the door behind him and watched with growing arousal as Draven stood and moved around the desk, crossing the floor on long, powerful legs, his Ferragamo shod feet silent on the carpeted floor. With his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his trousers he exuded an air of confidence and authority that made Rhys shiver. He stopped a foot or so from Rhys and regarded him intently. Without false modesty, Rhys knew that he was considered to be attractive. Just an inch short of six feet, he had dark blond hair that had a tendency to fall over his forehead, eyes that could be either grey or blue, depending on his mood, good bone structure and smooth, clear skin. He worked out at the gym a couple of times a week, so he was fit—if a little on the thin side.

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Draven moved a step closer and cupped his cheek in a warm, dry palm. Desire lanced through Rhys and pooled with fire in his balls. “You look a little tired,” Draven said, concern clear in his voice. “You’re not sick?” “No, I…” Rhys emitted a small, self deprecating laugh. “I have a show coming up and you know how I get when I’m working.” Draven nodded. “Yes, I do.” He moved closer still and Rhys was sure that he must be able to see the pulse racing wildly at his throat. “Looks like I got back just in time,” he added, slowly lowering his dark head until their lips barely touched. Rhys felt the heat from the other man’s body. His eyes drifted closed and his lips parted under Draven’s. The touch of Draven’s lips was determinedly light. The tip of his tongue smoothed over Rhys’ bottom lip. Rhys moaned and brought his hands up to Draven’s shoulders, his fingers digging in as he pushed into the kiss, attempting to deepen it. Draven frustrated him by pulling back slightly, smiling when Rhys bit back a curse. He slid his arms around Rhys’ waist, inched his hands down until they cupped his backside. When he squeezed the cheeks, Rhys gasped and felt his cock harden in direct response. Rhys leaned forward to bring their lips together again. Draven resisted for one infuriating moment, then brought his mouth down hard, his lips parted, his tongue thrusting deep into Rhys’ welcoming mouth. Rhys held on to Draven’s shoulders tightly and tilted his head to the side so that they could get even closer. Small sighs of arousal sounded in his throat and he eagerly tangled his tongue with his lover’s, wanting to merge with this man who could so easily consume him. When Draven ended the kiss they both struggled for breath. Rhys looked up into those green eyes, as deep and mysterious as a cat’s. He wanted to say “I missed you”, but he bit back the words, knowing that they were not allowed. His hands slid to his sides when Draven moved away from him to sit on the edge of the desk, long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. His lover’s eyes moved the length of his body, and Rhys felt his arousal increase, his cock harden so that it pushed against the front of his trousers. Draven did not miss the reaction and smiled. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked Rhys right in the eye. “Strip.” It was one word, but it was like an explosion in Rhys’ brain.

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Dipping his head slightly, letting his eyes fall to the carpet, he slipped into his submission with the ease of a hand slipping into a well-worn glove.

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Chapter Two

Intensely aware of Draven’s eyes on him Rhys loosened his tie, pulled it free from his shirt collar and let it fall from his fingers. He removed his jacket and tossed it in the direction of the long sofa against the wall of the office. His breathing became increasingly laboured as he unbuttoned and cast aside his shirt while toeing off shoes and socks, his arousal so fierce he feared he might lose it right there. It had been almost a month since his last encounter with Draven and hand-jobs in the shower were a poor substitute. His fingers shook as he loosened the button on his trousers, lowered the zip and let them fall to the floor, leaving him standing in only grey boxer briefs bulging almost obscenely at the front. Heat touched his cheeks as he manoeuvred the material of his shorts over his erection and let them join his trousers on the floor where he kicked them both aside. Completely naked now, he lowered his head and clasped his hands together at his tailbone. The room was silent. The only thing Rhys could hear was his own blood rushing in his ears. After an agonising few moments in which he sensed Draven’s eyes raking over his body and causing goose bumps to rise on his skin, Rhys raised his head and looked at the other man. Draven raised one finger and casually motioned for Rhys to turn around. He obeyed and when his back was to the desk, he closed his eyes. No matter how many times they had played out this scene, or something like it, it was still both acutely embarrassing and intensely arousing. His cock was getting harder by the second. He jumped when a hand suddenly touched his back and he looked over his shoulder instinctively. “I want to examine you,” Draven said in a low voice that both reassured and aroused. Rhys shivered with the sensation of the man running his hand lightly over the skin of his back. When his knuckles brushed the top of his buttocks Rhys bit back a gasp. Draven trailed a hand around Rhys’ hip, moving until they were standing face to face, if not eye to eye. His hand grazed up the centre of Rhys’ chest then moved to the side to rasp the pad of his thumb over a nipple which immediately hardened. From under his lashes

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Rhys saw a smile touch Draven’s lips and an answering smile began to lift one side of his own mouth. It disappeared fast, however, and he took a sharp intake of breath when he felt a warm hand wrap around his rigid cock then slide down to cup his balls, squeezing them just enough to be uncomfortable. “Haven’t we forgotten something?” Draven asked with an edge to his voice. “Or are you so desperate to be punished that you did it deliberately?” Puzzled, Rhys looked in the direction of the hand holding his most sensitive area. His eyes widened as realisation dawned. One of his duties in this arrangement of theirs was that he was to keep his genitals shaved smooth. But he had been so distracted all day, filled with almost overwhelming expectation, that he hadn’t been able to think straight. This visit had been completely unexpected. He hadn’t thought to see Draven for perhaps another month. “I’m very sorry, Sir, it wasn’t a deliberate act of disobedience. But if you feel you need to punish me…” The last was said with a small smirk. He caught a huff of laughter from Draven, then the sharp sting of a hand landing on his backside sent a wash of pleasure through him. “Brat,” Draven said affectionately. “Go to the desk and bend over.” Rhys bit his lip as his cock leaked pre-cum freely. He moved to the desk and leaned over its polished surface, resting his forearms on the cool wood, his legs parted, knees stiff. His buttocks clenched automatically at the first touch of a hand. “Open up to me.” The command was soft but unequivocal. Rhys was strung tight as a bow, had been all day. He forced himself to even out his breathing and relax his tense body. A breath of a moan escaped his lips when his buttocks were parted and a single finger began to circle his anus. “I’m glad you didn’t forget everything,” Draven remarked, his finger touching the end of the clear silicone butt plug wedged inside Rhys. Rhys bit his lip harder and his eyes drooped. Since he’d opened that carved wooden box and found the plug lying on its bed of satin he had been in a state of near orgasmic pleasure. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold out much longer. Draven took hold of the end of the plug and began to slide it free from Rhys’ body. He had pulled it nearly all the way out when he suddenly pushed it back in. It hit Rhys’ prostate

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and he groaned loudly, resisting the urge to rub his aching cock against the desk, the need to come sharp and intense. Draven removed the butt plug completely and let it fall to the floor. It was replaced by two fingers which fucked in and out of Rhys with agonising slowness. He clenched his fists on the desk top. “I’m going to come,” he warned in a harsh voice. The hand that had been playing with his hole suddenly moved and gripped his balls, tugging enough to dampen his arousal a little. “Not if you want to come again any time soon.” Rhys’ head fell forward as perspiration broke out on his forehead. He knew it would do no good to beg or plead. In fact, that just might make Draven take all the longer. “I want you to be silent now,” Draven instructed, his hand moving back to Rhys’ backside, his fingers circling his hole with infuriatingly light touches. He leaned over Rhys and placed moist, breathy kisses along the length of his spine. Rhys gritted his teeth against the sensation of those full lips on his body and the feel of Draven’s suit brushing against his sensitised skin. Draven continued to trail kisses down his spine, his tongue occasionally flicking out to join in the play. Rhys heard the rustle of clothing as Draven dropped to his knees behind him. Big hands pulled his cheeks apart and a hot tongue dipped into the crevice. Rhys fought down his moan, knowing when Draven said not a sound he meant it. His hands clenched tighter on the desk, short nails digging into his palms. The very last thing he wanted was for his lover to end this before it had reached its conclusion. Draven teased him with tongue and fingers until Rhys thought he might stroke out. Finally, Draven got back to his feet. The sound of a zip being lowered sent Rhys’ stomach fluttering and his anus convulsing in readiness. Draven put his hand behind Rhys’ left knee and lifted it to place it on the edge of the desk, leaving Rhys wide open for him. A second later he heard the unmistakeable rip of a condom wrapper and held his breath. “You are so beautiful, little one, so ready for me.”

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Rhys was pleased to hear the husky arousal in Draven’s voice, but all thought fled when he felt the head of Draven’s engorged cock pushing at his entrance. “I want to fuck you hard and fast. I want to love you long and slow. I want to tie you down so that you’re completely at my mercy.” His voice was low and rough as he pushed inexorably in, filling Rhys, stretching him to his limits, then pushing a little more. The burn was exquisite. Rhys pressed his forehead into his hands, his breath coming in laboured puffs. He pushed back to meet Draven, taking him deep. When his balls were resting against Rhys’ backside Draven paused to give him time to adjust to his substantial length and girth. His hands stroked soothingly over his hips and thighs. When he decided Rhys was relaxed enough Draven eased out with a sucking sound, then, without warning, rammed himself back in, so hard that Rhys was pushed against the edge of the desk. Rhys couldn’t smother the groan that escaped him as pleasure rushed through his entire body and caused his cock to pulse. “Sir, please, please let me come,” he begged, regardless of Draven’s order of silence. In response Draven pounded into him several times, one of the hands which had gripped Rhys’ hips moved around to the front of Rhys and took hold of his cock at the root. He squeezed so that Rhys couldn’t come even if he wanted to. Which he really, really did. A frustrated noise escaped his throat. Draven pushed in hard and held himself there, grinding his pelvis against Rhys’ backside. His body suddenly went stiff, and Rhys knew he was on the verge of orgasm. With Draven’s long, low growl of satisfaction, Rhys felt the hot gush as his lover’s cum filled the condom. Draven draped himself over Rhys’ back, kissing the nape of his neck and Rhys felt his heat, smelled the scent of aftershave and sweat. Draven muttered soft words of praise and his tongue touched the shell of Rhys’ ear. Rhys shivered, his body still tight with unfulfilled desire. After a moment Draven raised himself and Rhys heard him putting himself to rights. “I want you to kneel in front of me, little one,” he said gruffly. Rhys pushed away from the desk, turned and did as he was bid, sliding to his knees before Draven, who looked disgustingly satisfied while Rhys’ cock was pointing at him pleadingly.

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“Lean back on your heels and spread your knees apart,” Draven said, seating himself in a leather armchair and watching him through hooded eyes. Once again Rhys obeyed, resting his hands on his thighs when he’d gotten into position. “Take your cock in your hand.” Draven ordered. “Which hand?” Rhys asked, mischievously. Draven simply arched an eyebrow and waited. Rhys wrapped his fingers around his stiff shaft, desperate to pull himself off, but he had not been given permission to do so. “Run your thumb around the slit and gather up some pre-cum.” Rhys complied and as a shock ran the length of his dick to settle white hot in his balls he thought he’d hate Draven if he didn’t love him so much. “Now suck your thumb clean.” “Fuck.” It was heartfelt, but barely above a breath. He slipped his thumb between his lips and stroked it clean with the tip of his tongue. He saw with a thrill that Draven’s eyes narrowed, so he made a show of sucking on his thumb far longer than was absolutely necessary. When he spoke Draven’s voice was deep with renewed arousal. “Bring yourself off.” With a sigh of relief, Rhys began to stroke his hand up and down his stiff cock, gradually increasing the pressure and speed until he groaned and spurted cum over his hand and thighs. He slumped, exhausted, but when he felt a light caress in his hair, he looked up to find Draven crouched in front of him, a soft smile on his full lips. “Beautiful,” Draven whispered. Before Rhys could express his pleasure at the compliment Draven added, “I was thinking of going down to the country for the weekend. Would you like to join me?” It didn’t even occur to Rhys to hesitate. In fact, embarrassingly, he accepted before Draven had even finished the question.

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Chapter Three

The car arrived to collect Rhys at seven o’clock the next morning. The driver, an elderly man named Mills—if he had a first name he did not mention it—took the leather weekend bag from Rhys and held open the back door of the silver Rolls Royce Phantom for him to get in. Mills stowed the bag and climbed in behind the wheel. “Will we be collecting Draven?” Rhys asked curiously. “I believe Mr. Laird travelled down to the manor last night, Sir,” Mills answered in courteous, but clipped tones. Rhys nodded, disappointed. He settled back into the plush leather seat and fastened his seatbelt. If Draven was running true to form then he would not be staying long and Rhys would have liked to have spent as much time with him as possible. “Where exactly is the manor…Mills?” he asked. “Fanshaw Manor is on the South Coast, Sir,” Mills answered. Rhys frowned. “Fanshaw Manor? Doesn’t the house belong to Draven?” He detected a condescending smirk in the man’s voice. “Fanshaw Manor has been in the family for almost two hundred years on Mr. Laird’s mother’s side.” Rhys was sure that it was a perfectly reasonable question, but Mills had a way of making him feel like an idiot. He decided that it was probably better not to try to make conversation with the man. Instead he looked about him. A CD player and two TV monitors were tucked discreetly into the backs of the seats. But since he didn’t know how to work either without asking for help, he gave up any idea of music or Saturday morning cartoons. With a sigh he relaxed and looked out the window at the passing scenery and quickly found himself drifting away. This arrangement he had with Draven was by turns a delight and a source of frustration. Draven had made it very clear at their first meeting that he did not do forever. He wasn’t looking for happily ever after. If they decided to play together then it would be on a strictly casual basis. There would be no contract and no chance of a collar for Rhys as the significance of it to people who enjoyed their lifestyle was too meaningful, much like a

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wedding ring was to others. There would be no commitment between them. They would be free to see other people as and when they chose—but when they were together they would be exclusive, because neither was into group scenes. At the time, almost two years ago, Rhys had been happy to accept the terms of the agreement. He hadn’t been looking for a full-time Dom, just a way to satisfy his submissive inclinations. Now though, he would give anything to have Draven’s collar at his throat, their signatures side by side on a contract—even if it was more symbolically binding than legally. Of course he kept such longings to himself. If Draven knew Rhys had fallen in love with him, thereby breaking the most important—if unspoken—rule, then Rhys had no doubt that he would never see him again. And that was simply unthinkable. He was pulled from increasingly maudlin thoughts by the unexpected sound of Mills voice. “Mr. Laird asked that I give you this letter, Sir.” Over the man’s shoulder appeared a long vellum envelope. Rhys accepted it and, while Mills turned his attention firmly back to the road, he opened it almost reverently. His cock instantly sprang to life when he realised it was a set of instructions. When you arrive at the manor you will be shown to your room by Mills who will then take his leave for the duration of the weekend. You will be allocated your own bedroom and will not enter mine unless expressly invited. You will remove all clothing and remain naked until told otherwise. A cock ring and butt plug will be on the bed; you will use these, again until told otherwise. You will ensure you are clean and shaved at all times. As always, you will remember you have free will. If at any time you become uncomfortable you have your safe words and are urged to use them. Equally, if you want the game to escalate you have the right to make the request. I look forward to seeing you, little one. D.

Rhys re-folded the letter and replaced it in the envelope.

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For the rest of the journey he remained half-hard.

They made good time, arriving at just after ten o’clock. Mills lowered the car window when they reached a set of wrought iron gates, reached out and keyed a code into a number pad. The gates swung open on well-oiled hinges, closing behind them when they’d passed through. The drive up to the house seemed almost as long as that from the London, but finally they exited a long avenue of trees and Rhys got his first view of the Manor. It was beautiful. It was breathtaking. It was huge. Perched on a slight rise, the house was built of red brick with white stone trim around the many small-paned windows. A grand, sweeping stone staircase led up to a set of heavy oak doors. Mills drew the car to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, exited the car and came around to open Rhys’ door. Rhys fumbled with the seatbelt for a few minutes before he was finally able to release it. He got out, and while Mills fetched his bag he stood back and looked at the manor. He remembered coming to a house like this on a daytrip when he was at school, but other than that houses like this existed only in books and on TV for Rhys. “This way, Sir,” Mills said, motioning for Rhys to precede him up the steps. Rhys made himself move, climbing the steps slowly, a little overawed by his surroundings. He stepped to the side at the top and let Mills open the door. The driver then gestured with a small sweep of his hand for Rhys to enter. He smiled his thanks and stepped over the threshold into a big, marbled entryway. He heard the door close behind him and Mills led the way across to a wide carpeted staircase. Rhys followed behind the man, feeling both overwhelmed and excited at the thought of his weekend with Draven. According to Mills, the first floor was where the main bedrooms were located. They passed countless doors and Rhys wondered which one of them led to Draven’s room. At the end of the hallway, Mills opened a door and stood to the side while Rhys entered.

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“This is my room?” he asked, a little surprised. It was big and airy, furnished with what looked like to Rhys to be genuine antiques and dominated by a huge four poster bed covered by an ivory satin spread. Rhys walked over to the tall windows and looked out through the sheer curtains. He gasped at the view and pushed the curtain aside. A lush green lawn rolled down until it kissed a stretch of beach leading to the sea. To the side of the house he caught a glimpse of well-tended grounds and just a hint of a walled garden. “It’s spectacular,” Rhys said softly. “Indeed Sir,” was Mills reply. “If you don’t need anything further then I’ll be on my way.” Rhys turned to thank the older man, but he was already closing the door behind him. “Thank you,” he said anyway, smiling to the empty room. He took a couple of minutes to look around him, then his eyes fell on the cock ring and plug lying on the bed. For a moment he blushed at the thought of Mills having seen them, then he realised he really didn’t give a damn. This was about him and Draven. If the world didn’t approve then that was their problem. He spotted a door in the wall to the right of the big bed, and guessing that it was a bathroom, he made his way to it, shedding his clothes and collecting the items from the bed as he went. He’d already showered, shaved and cleaned himself thoroughly that morning, but he decided to take a quick shower to freshen up from the drive. The bathroom was very Victorian in feel, with a big roll top tub, blue patterned tiles, a wicker chair and lots of plants. Rhys showered quickly, somehow feeling the quicker he was ready the quicker Draven would come for him. Then he slipped the cock ring over his half-hard penis. He balanced one foot on the chair and, with the lube he found in the cabinet over the sink, manoeuvred the butt plug into his anus, groaning with pleasure as he did so. With growing excitement he went back into the bedroom, knelt at the foot of the bed, clasped his hands behind his back, lowered his head and waited. By the time the door opened to admit Draven, Rhys was in some discomfort. His erection was straining against the cock ring and if he settled back on his heels the butt plug sank further in, pressing against his prostate. The idea of pulling himself off just to take the

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edge off had gotten more and more tempting, but then the door had opened and the scent of Draven hit him. He didn’t raise his head from the expensive shoes, wanting to get the game started as soon as he could. He literally ached for this man, for the things he could do to his body and for the tenderness that followed which made him believe there had to be something more in this for Draven than pure physical release. A gentle hand rested briefly on his head. “Stand up, pet.” Rhys pushed himself to his feet and felt a finger under his chin. His face was raised until he was looking at Draven, then the other man caught his mouth in a quick, but deep and heated kiss. Rhys leaned in for more, but Draven drew back. “Did you have a good journey, little one?” he asked. “Yes Sir. I did, thank you,” Rhys replied, then added, “You have a very beautiful home.” Draven was quiet for so long that Rhys raised his eyes to look at him. The emptiness he saw in Draven’s eyes made him shiver. “This hasn’t been home for a very long time, pet.” Suddenly Draven smiled but there was something not quite real about it. “But it is a beautiful house. Would you like me to show you around?” Rhys nodded. “I’d like that. Thank you, sir.” Draven guided him around the two upper floors of the grand house. The top floor held the staff quarters, although there had not been a full time staff in many years. The next floor down was the one on which Rhys’ room was found along with many other bedrooms, all furnished as expensively and tastefully as his own. “Which room is yours, Sir?” Rhys asked as they made their way down the big staircase to the ground floor. It did not occur to Rhys to be bothered by the fact that he was completely naked save a thin piece of leather wound around his penis, while Draven was fully dressed in dark, tailored trousers and a black cashmere sweater. “Angling for an invitation, pet?” Draven asked, and Rhys was pleased to see his smile was back in place and quite genuine. Rhys grinned. “Would it do me any good?”

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Draven gave a little laugh but didn’t answer. Nor did he tell Rhys which bedroom was his own. Draven showed him where the kitchen, dining room and reception rooms were. Rhys noted as he went that there were many paintings of whom he assumed were ancestors, but there was a distinct lack of photographs of family. It struck Rhys that he knew nothing of Draven’s family. “This is my office,” Draven said finally, leading him into a wood-panelled room with a huge desk, leather club chairs and a big open fireplace. It reminded Rhys a little of Club Meridian. “What’s that room over there?” Rhys asked, looking over his shoulder at the only room on the ground floor Draven hadn’t shown him. “That room is out of bounds at all times,” Draven said, and without further explanation, he led the way to the back of his office and an arched doorway which was concealed from plain sight by a bookcase. He took a key from his pocket and opened the door. He gestured for Rhys to precede him, a private, almost predatory smile on his lips, a gleam in his beguiling eyes. Curious, Rhys entered and found himself at the top of a set of stone steps that curved down out of sight. Draven flicked a switch and sconces lit up on the walls. “Go on, pet,” he said, giving Rhys a small nudge. Rhys descended the stairs slowly, and when he reached the bottom a gasp of awe and pleased surprise escaped his lips. “Dear God, you have an actual dungeon!” The room had rough stone walls and a vaulted ceiling. All manner of toys and furniture were on display; a leather sling, a St. Andrews Cross, a whipping bench, a bondage chair, stocks and a pillory. On shelves that took up an entire wall sat more whips, paddles, restraints and harnesses than Rhys had imagined in his wildest fantasies. Rhys looked at Draven with wide eyes. “Holy fuck!” Draven just laughed and leaned back against wall, hands in his pockets, stretching the material of his trousers over an obvious bulge.

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“May I?” Rhys asked, and receiving a nod of assent from Draven, he moved around the room, touching the cool metal and fine leather. The scent of candle wax and oil pervaded the air. Out of nowhere Rhys felt a stab of jealousy. How many others had seen this room? Been invited to partake of some fun here? How many others had Draven called “little one”? He realised he’d come to think of that name as his own. He knew that he had no right to feel this way, but, even though he managed to push it down quickly, he knew that he would have to deal with it some time. A hand on his back made him start with surprise. He looked over his shoulder to find Draven watching him. “Whenever we are in this room, pet, the rules will be tighter than normal. You will call me Master. You will not meet my eyes and you will speak only when spoken to. Is that understood?” Rhys felt a thrill rush through him. “Yes Master,” he replied with suitable deference. “Good.” Draven stroked a single finger along Rhys’ cheek before pulling back. “Now, I want you to go and choose a paddle from the shelf, bring it to me and then get into position at the whipping bench.” His voice was deep and dark and made Rhys shiver with want. He moved over to the shelves and ran his fingers lovingly over the wide selection of paddles made of everything from aluminium to leather to intricately carved rosewood. He selected a curved ebony paddle and took it to Draven, then went to the bench where he bent over the padded leather top and grabbed hold of the legs. His fingers gripped tight and the tension in his body grew as he heard Draven’s near silent approach. Draven moulded a hand over Rhys’ buttocks, stroking gently, as if memorising the shape and texture. “I want you to count each stroke,” Draven ordered. “Yes, Master,” Rhys replied, his voice strained. Draven removed his hand, and the only warning Rhys got before the paddle connected was a hushed whoosh of air. A sharp sting ripped through his tender flesh and he virtually screamed, “One Master!” The next crack that sounded through the otherwise silent dungeon was expected, but took Rhys’ breath away none the less.

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Chapter Four

By the time he had called out “Ten Master” Rhys’ body was an agony of sensations. His backside felt raw and on fire, every time the paddle connected it shoved the plug deeper, torturing his prostate, and his dick was so hard he wondered vaguely if the cock ring would do permanent damage. But his brain was tingling with pleasure, endorphins shooting off like fireworks. He never once considered using his safe word. He was, however, relieved when he heard Draven place the paddle on the floor at his feet. He sighed when Draven ran gentle hands over skin that felt sunburned, and couldn’t resist a little giggle when he felt him touch a gentle kiss to each buttock. That earned him a stinging little slap from Draven’s open hand, but it was worth it. “Get up now, little one.” Rhys loosened his white-knuckled grip on the legs of the whipping bench and straightened, a little frisson firing through him as his erection brushed against the leather. Draven took his hand and led him to the sling. He helped him into it then attached the cuffs to Rhys’ wrists and ankles, making sure they weren’t too tight. Then he moved to the shelves and returned with a black silk scarf which he draped over Rhys’ eyes and tied behind his head. Restrained and blindfolded, his backside hanging over the edge of the sling, Rhys felt completely, amazingly vulnerable. He could only listen, and when he did he heard the soft sounds of Draven shedding his clothes. And taking his own sweet time about it. The first touch on his inner thigh made him jerk and breathe in sharply. “Relax little one, I’m just going to play with you for a little while before I use your beautiful, tight little hole,” Draven said, dragging his knuckles along the sensitised skin of his thighs and over the tightening muscles of his stomach. Rhys tried to even out his breathing, but his chest felt constricted. He closed his eyes behind the blindfold and focused all his concentration on Draven’s touch, his big, warm hands moving over his body, finding his own pleasure in the feel of

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Rhys skin, muscle and sinew. Draven had Rhys writhing with need in no time, pulling at his restraints, desperate for release. But Draven denied him as he brought his mouth into the game, moving his lips from Rhys’ bound ankles, along his calves and thighs, over his hips and up to his chest, completely passing over his cock, the place that ached more than any other. When Draven’s lips closed over his nipple, his teeth biting down just short of painfully, Rhys arched his back and moaned, biting his lips to fight back the plea yearning to break free. Draven licked and sucked, first one nipple then the other. He leaned over Rhys, and Rhys felt the hardness of Draven’s aroused cock pressing into his stomach. Draven took hold of the chains just above Rhys’ wrists, their hands lightly brushing together. Rhys thought he might bite through his lip when he felt Draven’s tongue at his throat, soon to be joined by his lips, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, however temporary. Rhys ached to tell Draven how much he would love to wear his mark permanently on his skin. Draven moved away then, and Rhys sucked in a breath when he felt the plug being eased free then the chill of lube being pressed into his twitching anus. A single finger pushed in and out of him, coating his heated passage. It was soon joined by another finger, then a third, stretching him open, preparing him for the ultimate intrusion. He heard the tear of a foil wrapper and held his breath in excited expectation. He frowned, puzzled when Draven suddenly released the cuffs at his ankles and moved to do the same to those securing his wrists. Draven helped Rhys to his feet, then turned him and pushed him forward. “I want to take you from behind, pet. I want to feel those heated cheeks against me when I fuck you.” A glorious rush of desire assailed Rhys as he grasped the chains of the sling and felt the pressure of Draven pushing steadily into him until he felt coarse pubic hair against his welldisciplined behind. Draven’s hand rested in the centre of Rhys’ back as he began to thrust, but as he built up in speed and force his hands moved to Rhys’ shoulders. He gripped tightly and pounded Rhys until Rhys was breathing in forced huffs, his skin glowing with sweat.

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Draven’ fingers tightened on his shoulders, firm enough to bruise, then he came with a long, low groan, his cock pulsing in Rhys. He stayed there until Rhys felt him gradually soften and slip free. Rhys was still painfully hard, the cock ring biting into his flesh quickly becoming uncomfortable, but still he did not think of using his safe word, for he trusted Draven implicitly. He knew that the man would never do anything to cause him harm, and this knowledge added to his love for Draven. When he had taken a moment, perhaps to compose himself, Draven helped Rhys to straighten up and turned him. “Keep your eyes closed pet. Open them slowly once I’ve removed the blindfold.” Rhys did as he was told and the silk was removed. He gradually opened his eyes, adjusting to the light in the room, careful to ensure that his head was lowered in obedience. Draven took his hand and led him to the bondage chair, but instead of placing Rhys in it he sat himself. He moved Rhys so he was standing directly in front of him and placed one hand on Rhys’ hip while the other flicked at the fastening of the cock ring, letting it fall unheeded to the floor. Relief was like a living thing in Rhys as his dick was released, but any respite he felt soon fled when his flesh was suddenly enclosed in the wet heat of Draven’s mouth. He moaned and his hands clenched into fists at his sides as Draven ran his tongue along the thick vein underneath his penis then circled the head teasingly. He dipped the tip of his tongue into the slit at the end, lapping up pre-cum. When he took Rhys completely into his mouth, so deep that Rhys felt the back of Draven’s throat, and swallowed, Rhys thought that he was going to pass out. Draven was relentless. He sucked and swallowed until Rhys came violently, shooting his hot load down Draven’s throat. His knees went so weak they gave out from under him. Draven pulled him onto his lap, stroking a soothing hand along the moist skin of his back. They sat like that for some time, the silence broken when Draven said, quietly, “That was wonderful, little one. You give yourself so freely and completely to me.” Rhys made no reply. He had neither been asked a question nor given permission to speak.

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It seemed to please Draven, because when he spoke again Rhys heard the smile in his voice. “And now, I think we need some sustenance before we pass out!” They left the dungeon together, and when the door closed behind them Rhys said, knowing the rules were now back to normal, “I still can’t believe you have an actual dungeon. Now that I know, you might have trouble getting me to leave this place.” Draven smacked him lightly on the behind. “To the kitchen with you, brat. I need food. We’re not all twenty-six years old.” Rhys looked at his lover with mock sympathy. “I’m sorry, I keep forgetting you middle aged men need more rest than us more youthful types.” Draven’s outraged growl sent Rhys fleeing in the direction of the kitchen, laughing and naked with an equally naked and amused Draven close behind. His punishment was to make and serve a late lunch while Draven lounged in a chair, playing the Dom for all he was worth, demanding his steak be grilled just so, that the dressing for the salad had exactly the right consistency and groping Rhys whenever he came close enough. They sat together at the big kitchen table, Draven having decided the dining room would necessitate dressing and he wasn’t inclined to do so. When he’d eaten enough to sate his immediate hunger, Rhys twisted his water glass between his fingers, occasionally looking over at Draven, his movements hesitant. Finally, Draven sighed and placed his knife and fork on his plate. “Come on. Out with it,” he demanded. Rhys blushed, embarrassed that he was so transparent. “May I ask you something?” Draven was quiet for a moment, clearly considering, then nodded slowly. “Go on.” “I was just wondering about your family…?” Draven didn’t hesitate to answer, but there was little warmth in his voice. “My parents are both dead. No brothers, no sisters. A few aunts and uncles, but no one I’m particularly close to.” He suddenly smiled. “My grandmother was about the only one I was connected to. She died a couple of years ago, but she was a great old bird. She had absolutely no problem with my sexuality, but every now and then, I would catch her watching me, as if she was waiting for me to do something gay.”

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Rhys laughed and picked at his salad. He decided not to push things by asking more questions. He knew Draven well enough to know any information he released would come in a slow trickle rather than a rapid flow. This was confirmed when, instead of offering further insight, Draven said, “I’m afraid I have to take a couple of hours this afternoon to clear up some work that can’t wait. Why don’t you explore the grounds for a while, perhaps you could do some sketching. I brought some materials down for you.” Rhys snorted a laugh and Draven raised an eyebrow. “Care to explain?” “I’m curious, did you bring some crayons?” he asked with a grin. “Crayons?” Draven asked, puzzled. “Well, it sounded like you were sending the child to draw you a nice picture while you do the real work.” “You had better be careful with that mouth of yours little one or I might have to put you over my knee,” Draven said with a small smile. “I beg your pardon, Sir, but it seems to me that might be more of an incentive than a deterrent.” “Oh, you are determined to push your luck today, aren’t you brat?” Rhys lowered his eyes theatrically in a show of abject obedience and smiled when he heard Draven’s quiet laugh.

Feeling all warm and fuzzy because Draven had taken the time to buy him a sketching pad and some charcoal, Rhys, with Draven’s permission, dressed in faded jeans and a grey Tshirt and spent an hour wandering the grounds of the estate, stopping occasionally to sit cross-legged on the grass and sketch a sundial surrounded by wild flowers or a tree that looked as old as creation. He spent another hour leaning against the tree and trying to capture the majesty of the manor on paper, before strolling down to the beach where he sat on a sand dune, put aside the sketchbook and just looked out over the sea.

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Twilight was painting the sky pink and mauve when Rhys headed back to the house. Inside, he immediately shed his clothes and headed for the study. He was just a few feet away when the door to the room opposite, the room that was out of bounds opened and Draven appeared. Rhys was shocked to see the pained expression on his lover’s face, but it disappeared the moment he laid eyes on Rhys. Draven smiled in welcome, but the smile didn’t completely erase the haunted look in his eyes.

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Chapter Five

“Tell me more about your family,” Draven said. They were lying together in the big tub in Rhys’ bathroom, Rhys leaning back against Draven’s chest, almost purring as the bigger man stroked soapy hands languidly over his chest. “I don’t know if there’s anything to tell you that you don’t already know,” Rhys answered. “As you know both my parents teach music, my twin sister Bronwyn is a social worker and my younger brother David is studying chemistry at University. We’re just an ordinary, everyday bunch.” He smoothed his hands over Draven’s and linking their fingers together. “Ordinary is no bad thing,” Draven replied thoughtfully. “I would never suggest that it was, nor would I have them any other way.” “Nor would I,” Draven said, and Rhys felt his lips at the back of his head. “They helped make you what you are.” Rhys flushed with pleasure at the words. “What’s it like having a twin? Have you ever had a…psychic connection?” Rhys laughed. “God forbid! I think I might go insane if I had an inside track on Bronwyn’s thoughts. You know how every house has a drawer where all the junk gets thrown, all the stuff you don’t want to throw out ‘just in case’?” he asked. Draven huffed a laugh. “I know the one. You keep everything but the kitchen sink in it but can never find anything when you need it.” “That’s the one,” Rhys confirmed. “I think that must be what Bron’s mind looks like. Balls of string tangled up with elastic bands and sticky tape—with a few safety pins and paper clips thrown in for good measure!” He felt Draven’s chest shake with laughter at his back and a soft kiss was placed on his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out of here. The water’s getting cold.” Rhys reluctantly agreed. He pushed out of the water and grabbed a towel which he used to dry Draven before getting another for himself.

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When he saw Draven flinch as he reached for the silk robe hanging behind the door he moved up behind him and placed a hand on his lower back. “How about a massage?” Draven looked over his shoulder. “That would be wonderful.” Rhys smiled. “Why don’t you go and lie on the bed. I’ll warm some oil and join you in a minute.” Draven moved through to the bedroom and stretched out on the big four-poster. Rhys admired his lithe, muscular body for a long moment, then turned to take some oil from the cabinet. He warmed it under the hot tap and took it along with a hand towel through to the bedroom. Draven was lying on his stomach with his head resting on his folded arms. He turned his head at Rhys’ entrance and smiled slow and seductive. Rhys felt blood pool in his groin. He seemed to spend most of his time around this man half hard. He laid the towel on the bedside table and climbed on the bed, straddling Draven’s thighs, taking advantage of the situation by resting his hardening dick in the crease between Draven’s buttocks. Draven looked pointedly over his shoulder but allowed the small liberty. Rhys squeezed some of the sandalwood oil out onto his hand, placed the bottle on the table beside the towel and rubbed his hands together. The first touch of his hands on Draven’s warm, firm back was heavenly. Rhys moved his hands slowly, kneading Draven’s lower back with gentle thumbs, pleased when the other man emitted a sigh of satisfaction. He worked his hands up Draven’s back, pressing with the heels of his hands up to the broad shoulders. All the time his erection got thicker and longer. He pushed aside his own desires and concentrated on his lover, rubbing, smoothing and caressing. When Draven turned onto his back, still between Rhys’ legs, Rhys was gratified to see the other man was as aroused as he. When Rhys reached out an arm to retrieve the bottle of oil to start on Draven’s front, Draven snagged his wrist. Rhys looked at him questioningly. “Get the lube. I need to be inside you.” Rhys swallowed and took the lube and condoms from the drawer. He moved off Draven and got onto his hands and knees beside him on the bed. Draven put a hand on his hip. “No, on your back, I want to look at you.”

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Rhys nodded, feeling light-headed with need. He turned onto his back and spread his legs to make a place for Draven to settle. Draven moved over him, his weight on Rhys’ body deliciously welcome. Their skin touched from knee to chest, blood rushing close to the surface. Rhys sighed when Draven’s hands came up to his chest, pinching and twisting his rigid nipples. Draven lowered his head to Rhys’ neck, licking and sucking, using his teeth lightly. Rhys arched his neck to give him better access. “Put your hands over your head and keep them there,” Draven instructed. “As if you were bound—tied down for me.” Rhys raised his arms and dug his hands into the pillow behind his head. “Wrap your legs high around me.” Again, Rhys did as he was bid, lifting his legs from the bed and wrapping them tightly around Draven’s ribs. For a moment Draven simply looked at him and Rhys’ breath caught in his throat when he caught a brief glimpse of that look in Draven’s eyes that had been there when he’d left the forbidden room. Rhys wanted to touch him, to soothe him, but it was important to him to follow Draven’s instructions, so he kept his arms above his head, digging his fingers deeper into the pillow. Draven lowered his head and kissed him heatedly, his tongue pushing insistently at Rhys’ lips, demanding entrance and tangling with Rhys’ when it was granted. There was almost a desperation about Draven. Normally so controlled, his hands shook when he pushed up onto his knees, rolled on the condom and squirted lube onto his fingers. He prepared Rhys quickly, then lifted one of his legs over his shoulder and plunged into him, his eyes closing and a look of bliss crossing his face. He rode Rhys hard and fast, hands gripping tightly, pushing Rhys’ legs back until it would have been painful had Rhys not been in the throes of his own passion and delighting in the rough, deep strokes. He canted his hips up and Draven’s cock hit his prostate tearing a cry of joy from him. Draven reached between them and took hold of Rhys’ cock, pumping it fast, in time with his powerful thrusts. They came at exactly the same second. Rhys threw his head back and howled as his come shot between them and he felt the scalding rush of Draven’s climax.

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Draven dropped onto him and rolled to the side, pulling Rhys close as they fought for breath. Rhys brought his head to rest on Draven’s chest and listened to the fierce rhythm of his heart. The only sound in the room was that of their breath gradually evening out. After a while Rhys raised his head and saw that Draven had slipped into sleep. He levered himself up onto one elbow and looked down into his relaxed face, feeling is chest swell with emotion. With the gentlest of fingers he reached out and touched Draven’s face. “I love you.” The words were barely more than a sigh, but Rhys felt a thrill at having said them out loud for the first time, even if Draven had not been awake to hear them. He lowered himself again and made himself a pillow on Draven’s shoulder, letting his eyes drift closed as sleep took him.

There was a sense of déjà vu that Rhys woke the next morning. He lay for a few minutes in the big bed, trying to get his bearings. He turned his head on the pillow and found he was alone. He was disappointed but not surprised. He had never woken up next to Draven. It was another of those unspoken rules. The knocking brought him back to himself and he frowned. “Come in.” It was as much a question as an invitation. The door opened and Mills stood on the other side. “Mills?” he asked, frowning in his confusion. The other man gave a small nod. “Good morning, Sir. Mr. Laird asked that I drive you back to the city today.” Rhys’ frown deepened. “Today? But it’s Sunday.” “Indeed it is, Sir,” Mills said in his condescending way. “I’ll be waiting in the car when you’re ready to leave.” He turned to go, but Rhys called him back. “Draven…Mr. Laird, will he be travelling with us?” The sinking feeling in his stomach told him that he already knew the answer to the question. “Mr. Laird took the early flight to New York this morning.” Tears stung the back of Rhys’ eyes as he nodded. All he could do as Mills walked away was wonder what had happened to bring such an abrupt end to their weekend.

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Chapter Six

“I told him I love him,” Rhys said quietly, anger at himself clear in his voice. “He must have heard me. It’s the only explanation I can come up with.” He took a long drink of whisky and tilted the glass in the direction of the barman for a refill. His third since he’d arrived at Club Meridian a half hour ago. Gaia laid a hand gently on his arm. “Surely he wouldn’t have left you for loving him.” The bark of laughter from Rhys was cold and bitter. “I broke the rules, Gaia. It was supposed to be a casual thing, no ties, no commitments, just a bit of fun. I broke the rules,” he said again, pain spilling from him like a blood from an open wound. He threw back the whisky as soon as it was placed in front of him, his face twisting with distaste as the liquor burned its way down his throat. Again he held the glass up for a refill, but it was taken from his hand by Gaia. “No more sweetheart, if Lux sees me letting you get falling down drunk she’ll tan my hide!” Rhys snorted and relinquished the glass. “Lucky you!” His eyes burned and his vision became blurred. “Why couldn’t I have been happy with the way things were? Why’d I have to push it?” “He’ll be back,” Gaia assured him, stroking his arm soothingly. “It’s been nearly three months. He’s not coming back, and it’s all my own stupid fault.” He thumped his hand on the bar top, drawing the attention of other club patrons. Gaia clamped a surprisingly strong hand over his fist. “You have to stop blaming yourself Rhys. You don’t have any control over your feelings. That’s the way love works. You can’t fight it and you can’t force it.” She was quiet for a moment then added, in a softer voice, “If you ask me, Draven has behaved very badly towards you…” Rhys shot her a look of shock. “Draven has always treated me very well. He told me right at the beginning what he wanted. He never made me any promises he didn’t keep.” Gaia sighed and shook her head. “I’ve known for over a year how much you care for him. It was written all over our face every time you looked at him. He’d have to be either blind or a fool not to have seen it himself, and Draven Laird is neither of those things.” She

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tightened her hand around Rhys’. “It was cruel of him to let you go on loving him if he didn’t return your feelings.” Her words were harsh, but Rhys couldn’t find it in himself to argue with her. Part of him knew she was right. Draven must have known he had feelings for him, but he’d carried on with the game regardless, knowing it meant so much more to Rhys. Rhys realised, however, that he would not change a thing about their time together. He would cherish his time with Draven, even while he grieved its passing. Straightening on the bar stool, Rhys determinedly shook off his self-pity. “Let’s have some champagne,” he said to the young woman at his side. “This is a special night, after all. My show was a big hit, and I’m about to be quite a bit richer. I think that calls for a celebration.” If his smile was a little empty then Gaia was good enough not to mention it. “Alright.” She agreed. “But only one glass, then I’m putting you into a taxi and sending you home. You look like you could use a solid week’s sleep.” Rhys didn’t argue with that. Between preparing for the show and beating himself up over the situation with Draven—not to mention missing the man like crazy—he was a physical and emotional wreck, and a week under the covers sounded perfect. He managed to get two glasses of some of the finest champagne the French could offer before Gaia made good on her threat to send him home. At the studio, he paid the driver and stumbled from the taxi, hoping that he wasn’t going to regret mixing whisky and champagne in the morning. He dug his keys out of his pocket, cursed when he dropped them on the doorstep and reached down to retrieve them, only to gasp when a hand reached out of the shadows and picked them up. Rhys straightened and took a step back, slipping from the step and landing on his backside on the cobbles. “Damn man, how much have you had you drink?” Draven asked, moving forward and holding out a hand to help Rhys back to his feet. Rhys allowed Draven to pull him upright, feeling a rush of hunger at the touch of his hand. Rhys immediately withdrew his hand. He was acutely aware of Draven’s presence, wanted nothing more than to go to him, to wrap himself in his warmth and inhale his scent. He loved this man more than he had ever imagined it possible to love another person.

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He also knew that he could not carry on like this. He could not live his life for the brief moments spent in Draven’s arms, no matter how precious those moments might be. He needed more. He needed strings and commitments. He needed everything Draven would never offer him. The game was over and he felt like he might shatter into a thousand pieces. Careful not to touch Draven he reached out and took his keys from him and unlocked the door to the studio. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, but instead of moving further into the studio he turned, holding on to the door, and looked at Draven, not quite able to meet the other man’s eyes. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Draven asked, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.” “No?” Rhys shook his head. “No. I broke the rules. I know you heard me. Maybe on some level I wanted you to. I don’t know. What I do know is that I fell in love with you, and this arrangement we have isn’t enough anymore.” “Invite me in Rhys,” Draven said softly. Rhys swallowed. “I can’t Draven, please…” “Invite me in Rhys,” he said again, and Rhys was surprised to hear a hint of a plea in the other man’s voice. He hesitated only briefly, before sighing and pulling the door wide, stepping to the side so that Draven could enter, so close he could feel his heat. He followed Draven up the short flight of steps to the studio and crossed his arms tightly over his chest so he wouldn’t reach out and touch him. “I wanted to be here for your opening night,” Draven said, turning to face him, hands still tucked into his pockets. “But my flight was delayed. “Draven…” “I tried so hard not to fall in love with you,” Draven said suddenly, his voice almost tortured. “I’ve been running from you since before I even met you. Every time I felt you getting too close I took off again, hoping that putting some space between us would help me to get some perspective, but it never worked. You got in there anyway. You wound yourself around my heart until I was just fooling myself that I had some say in it.

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Rhys stared at him, wide eyed, mouth open in shock. Draven turned away and began to pace around the studio, his shoulders tight under the material of his coat. “I’ve never known love to bring anything but pain, and I was determined it wasn’t for me, that I was smarter than that.” His short laugh was self-mocking. “You can’t fight it and you can’t force it,” Rhys said quietly, echoing Gaia’s words to him earlier. Draven shot him a glance. “No, no you can’t. This last time I ran, I sat on that plane and I cursed myself as a coward and a fool. But I was so determined not to end up like…” His voice trailed off and the searing pain in the depths of his eyes cut into Rhys like a knife. Rhys moved forward until he was standing in front of Draven, but still didn’t touch him. “Like who?” he urged. Draven’s eyes closed, as if he could blank out some image that was too much to deal with. “My father,” he finally said. “He loved my mother so much and she took such advantage of it. She cheated on him all the time. She didn’t even try to hide it. It was like she enjoyed his pain. But he just kept on taking her back.” His pain was now tinted with anger. It was almost a relief to Rhys but seeing such naked anguish on Draven’s face tore at him. “She finally left him when I was fifteen,” he continued. “For the next year I watched him die a day at a time until finally I came home from school one day and found him in his study with a gun in his hand and the back of his head missing.” “Oh, dear God,” Rhys groaned, his heart breaking not only for the man before him, but for the boy he’d been. No wonder that room had been out of bounds. No wonder Draven had looked so haunted when Rhys saw coming out of it. “That’s why you took me to the house, isn’t it? So that you wouldn’t forget even for a second and let me get too close.” Draven nodded. “I never wanted to love anyone so much that I would rather die than live without them. I’ve always thought that I was so much stronger than he was, but I was lying to myself. At least he had the courage to love.” “Why are you telling me this Draven? Why now?”

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“When I heard you whisper that you loved me I wanted so much to tell you how much you mean to me. How much I love you. But I couldn’t. I was too afraid. I’m tired of being a coward.” And he sounded tired. He sounded as exhausted as Rhys felt. “These last three months haven’t been easy on you either, have they?” Rhys asked. “These last two years haven’t been easy on me,” Draven admitted. “Every time I left you, I left behind another little piece of myself until…I think you have it all now.” Unable to stand still a moment longer, Rhys moved forward and wrapped his arms around Draven. The other man instantly gathered him close, his embrace so tight it was ribcracking. “I want it all,” Rhys said into his shoulder. “I want everything. And I want to give you everything. I’m yours. I always was.” “God, I’m worn out,” Draven said, his voice rough with emotion. Rhys leaned back in the circle of Draven’s arms. “Let’s go to bed. I want to sleep with you and I want to wake up with you in the morning.” He took Draven’s hand and led him up the curved wooden staircase to his bedroom then slowly removed Draven’s clothes and guided him over to the bed. He settled Draven in the bed and pulled the covers over him then undressed himself and climbed in beside him. Draven immediately pulled Rhys into the curve of his body, wrapping an arm around his waist and cupping his lax cock in his warm hand.

Rhys woke the next morning to the feel of lips on his shoulder and a hand stroking up and down his thigh. He smiled and turned to look at Draven, reaching a hand up to lay it on his stubbled cheek. “Fuck me,” he said in a sleep roughened voice. Draven’s laughter was loud and free. “And here I was worrying that we were going to get all mushy.” “Heaven forefend.” Rhys grinned, reaching a hand between their bodies and squeezing Draven’s morning erection. Draven pushed him onto his back and loomed over him. “Heaven forefend Sir.” Rhys emitted a very unmanly giggle. “Yes Sir, sorry Sir.”

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Draven insinuated himself between Rhys’ legs, his cock probing at his opening. “I want to be inside you without a condom,” he said, suddenly serious. “I haven’t been with anyone since I met you and I get tested regularly. I’m clean.” Arousal flared out of control through Rhys. “You’re it for me. You have been since the minute I laid eyes on you. And I’m clean too, so yes. Skin on skin.” Draven smiled and took his mouth in a searing kiss, his lips hot, his tongue thrusting deep. “Lube,” he gasped. “Now. Hurry!” Rhys reached out and fumbled with the drawer beside the bed and grabbed the tube. He handed it to Draven with trembling fingers. Draven squirted the lube directly into Rhys, tossed it aside and eased two fingers in. Rhys arched his back in bliss. “Oh, so long…too long,” he moaned, pushing down on Draven’s fingers. “Hell yes!” Draven concurred. He ran his slippery fingers over his rigid cock, then looking right into Rhys’ eyes, he drove into him. Rhys opened his legs and pulled them back to get Draven as deeply inside him as he could. The feel of the naked cock sliding in and out of him was incredible, breathtaking. They both picked up speed, knowing that there would be plenty of time for slow and steady later. Rhys was still hard when he felt Draven’s cum flood his passage and when his lover gently slipped out of him he felt it trickle out of his body. It was one of the most erotic things he’d ever experienced, and it caused his dick to convulse and shoot between their bodies, coating both their stomachs. They lay side by side on the bed, hauling in desperately needed breath. Draven picked up Rhys’ hand and kissed his knuckles. Rhys raised himself up on an elbow. “Now that we’re all…couply and everything, does that mean we can’t play anymore?” Draven grinned. “Couply? Is that a word?” Rhys laughed and nudged him. “It’s absolutely a word, now answer my question…Sir.” Draven rolled until he was on top of Rhys again. “Just thinking about you in my dungeon makes me want to come. What do you think?” Rhys dragged his head down for a quick kiss. “Excellent.”

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Draven moved off him and got out of the bed. Rhys watched as he picked his coat up from the chair where Rhys had left it the night before. He dug into the inside pocket and came out with a flat square box. He brought it back to the bed and held it in front of Rhys. “I got you something. Actually, I had it made for you.” He opened the lid on the box and revealed a thin platinum circle with a tiny padlock holding it closed, a key in the lock. Rhys looked up at Draven with moist eyes. “Is this…?” He choked before he could get the word out. Draven removed it from the box and held it out. “Rhys, would you do me the greatest honour and wear my collar?” Rhys could only nod, words beyond him right then. Draven put the slender collar around Rhys’ neck, fastened the padlock and removed the key. He held the key between his thumb and forefinger. “I’ll keep this, forever I hope, but if you ever want it all you have to do is ask.” Rhys touched a hand to his throat with barely concealed joy. “You might as well throw it away now,” he replied. Draven smiled. “I’ve spent the last month scaling back my work, promoting and delegating to free up more of my time. I was thinking of spending more time at the manor, maybe making it into a real home again.” He arched a dark eyebrow. “Care to join me?” Rhys pushed aside the covers and rolled out of bed. “I’ll start packing.” To the sound of Draven’s delighted laughter he pulled out a huge suitcase and began to empty drawers into it.

About Cassidy Ryan I am 38 years old and live in Scotland. I love to read and write and I am an enthusiastic—if not particularly talented—watercolour painter. I enjoy going to the cinema, watching football and shopping for handbags. I have been writing most of my life, but a bout of ill health this year made it necessary for me to give up my job. I filled in the long hours by writing my first novel—so every cloud really does have a silver lining! I currently have about five other stories at various stages of development. Email: [email protected] Cassidy loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totalebound.com .

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