That’s interesting, Belle thought. She doesn’t know about the mirror door. Hmmm. Simon must want his secrets kept secret.
Feeling a yawn creeping up, she kicked off her shoes and looked around for a bathrobe. Finding none, she followed Amaranth’s path into the bedroom and was about to enter the bathroom when she saw a pink terry robe laying on the bed, clearly compliments of her new assistant. Gratefully she walked across and picked it up, and as she turned to go back to the closet and undress, she saw Amaranth staring at her.
It was only a fleeting glance, and for a moment Belle questioned what she had seen, but as she slowly wandered back to change she replayed the moment in her head.
Amaranth had shot her a look of contempt, even disdain.
“Your bath is ready,” Amaranth announced, standing in the doorway.
“Thanks so much, Amaranth,” Belle replied, tying the robe around her waist. “Before you leave, if I want a cup of tea how do I arrange that?”
“Dial 7 on the house phone for the kitchen and tell them what you want. A young woman named Theresa will be the one who will bring it to you.”
“Terrific. Thanks again.”
“No-one will bother you. Mr. Sinclair made it clear you’re not to be disturbed,” Amaranth finished, and turning abruptly, walked away.
As tired as she was, Belle couldn’t help but wonder about the odd, terse woman. She had large dark eyes, and hair that Belle imagined was probably full and flattering when loose, but Amaranth wore it pulled back in a tight bun. With very little makeup to brighten her look, there was a severity about her that was unbecoming and a tad disturbing. It didn’t help that she was on the thin side, her body appearing to have very little shape.
Oh well, whatever, Belle thought, wandering into the bathroom through the mirrored door. The way she looked at me was weird though. I don’t think she likes me very much.
The bath beckoned, the soft aroma of jasmine filling the steamy air, and dropping her robe and sliding into the enveloping foam, she closed her eyes and sank into the hot, soothing water.
“Simon, I can’t wait to lay in your arms again,” she murmured, drifting away into much needed relaxation.
Striding down the long corridor on the floor below, Amaranth Simington was not a happy woman.
How could he bring some American tart into this house? I am the one in line for his throne. It is I who shall wear his ring one of these days. I who will grace his arm. I am the one who knows what to wear and how to behave, not some upstart commoner from across the pond. I am the one who understands a complex man like him. I am the one who loves him as no other can!
Reaching her office she threw open the doors, slamming them behind her. The small room looked across the back of the home on to manicured lawns and landscaped gardens. She found the view calming, and often stood at the window staring down, imagining herself on the verdant lawn surrounded by all the best people, dressed in white, standing at his side as they exchanged their vows. Dressed in white because she could be, because she had kept herself virginal and pure for him.
Simon and Mrs. Sinclair, though she would keep her maiden name as a hyphenated add-on. Mrs. Amaranth Simington-Sinclair. It had to be. When she had legally changed her name to Simington, it was of course for him, and as Mrs. Amaranth Simington-Sinclair, it would fit perfectly. Clearly the Gods meant for them to be together. It was all so obvious. Those brainless models he would bring in for an hour or two were nothing but exercises in masturbation.
But you, Belle Somers, you’re a bit different, aren’t you? Amaranth pondered.
Belle was the only woman Simon had brought into his bedroom. It was Simon’s habit to have his fun with the ladies in one of the many guest suites, usually on the second floor.
His bed is where I am destined to sleep, and that dressing room is where my clothes are supposed to hang, she frowned.
“Well, I shall just have to make sure your stay is a short one,” she mused quietly. “Very short indeed.”
Belle, sweetheart. Wake up.”
Belle felt cold, and the voice was miles away, as if echoing down a cave. Her eyelids were painfully heavy and she couldn’t lift them at all.
“Belle,” the voice said again, this time louder.
Simon? Was it Simon’s voice. Yes, it was. Where was he? Using supreme effort she forced her eyes open, finding herself sitting in a bath filled with cold water.
“Oh, for goodness sake,” she groaned. “I fell asleep. I knew I was tired but I’ve never fallen asleep in a bath before.”
“My poor, Belle,” he said gently, attempting to help her to her feet. “I should have checked on you. I got all caught up. The phone hasn’t stopped. You must have been laying in here for hours.”
“What time is it?” she asked, feeling various points of her body angrily protest as she moved.
“It’s almost four. I left you here around eleven this morning.”
“You’re joking? Oh, everything’s cramped,” she groaned, standing up.
He pushed a chrome ring at the top of the tub to empty the water, and wrapping a towel around her, effortlessly lifted her into his arms.
“I’m fine,” she whimpered. “Really. I just need–”
“I know what you need,” he interrupted her, and carrying her into the bedroom, laid her on the bed. “You stay right where you are.”
The towel was thick and warm and fluffy, more like a blanket than a towel, and she snuggled into it, fighting off the chill. He had disappeared into his closet, but returned quickly, dressed in a robe and carrying a bottle which he placed on the nightstand, then hurried over to the huge fireplace and brought it to life.
“At least you’re not shivering,” he remarked as he moved back and laid next to her, pulling her into his body.
“No, honestly I’m fine. I just feel a bit on the cool side.”
Simon let out a deep sigh. “I should have realized,” he lamented guiltily. “You had such a big day. You must have been utterly drained. I’m sorry, Belle. I shouldn’t have left you. I didn’t take care of you.”
“Don’t be silly,” she replied, pressing against him. “I can take care of myself. You had things to do.”
“I don’t want you to take care of yourself,” he said firmly. “I want to do that. I’m just not very, uh, well I suppose I haven’t had much practice at it.” None at all.
Laying next to her, feeling her soft, yielding body pressed against his, he was filled with a need to protect her, to make sure she was comfortable and happy and wanted for nothing.
What’s wrong with me? he admonished himself. How could I have just left her like that? I suppose this is what it’s like, when you really care about someone.
“I promise, Belle, this won’t happen again. I mean, I won’t leave you like that again,” he vowed somberly.
“Simon, you can’t make that promise and you don’t have to. You’re a really important guy. You have responsibilities and work. I don’t expect you to babysit me.”
Rising up on one elbow, he stared down at her.
“You listen to me, young lady. I want to be with you, and just because I haven’t had someone in my life like this before it doesn’t mean I can’t learn how to do it.”
He frowned.
“That didn’t sound right. What I mean is–”
“I know what you mean,” Belle giggled, interrupting him. “It’s okay. Really.”
“Are you warmer?” he asked smiling, feeling his heart melt.
“Yes, much. You’re my hero.”
“Some hero, leaving you alone like that,” he grimaced, then reaching behind him, picked up the bottle he had brought from his closet.
“Roll over, Princess,” he ordered. “I’m going to get rid of all those cramped muscles.”
“Mmmm, sounds divine,” she sighed, wriggling on to her stomach.
Simon kneeled up and pulled the towel from her body, dropping large dollops of the massage oil on her back. Straddling her waist, h
is strong, large hands moved across her shoulders, kneading and rubbing, expertly finding the areas that needed his attention.
“Oh, Simon, where did you learn to do that?” she murmured.
“Shhh, no talking, just relax into my fingers.”
Sinking into the mattress, Belle succumbed to his skilled massage, and as his hands moved down her back, finding knots and releasing their tension, she could feel the heavy relaxation transforming into a familiar hunger.
“Simon,” she moaned, “oooh Simon.”
Ignoring her, he moved off her body and knelt alongside her, adding more oil to her lower back, slithering it across her seat cheeks. His rubbing hands fondled and caressed, then slid between her legs, pushing between her lips. She spread her legs, inviting more attention, and moving his hands to her inner thighs, he pushed his thumbs against her muscles, eliciting an urgent groan.
Having taken courses in reflexology and tantra massage, Simon knew exactly what he was doing, and Belle was feeling the effects. Moving his thumbs closer to her sex, but not actually touching her, he pressed lightly, then slowly increased the pressure.
“Simon, oh my gosh,” she breathed, “what are you doing to me?”
As he escalated the intensity of his work, Belle’s breathing became short panting gasps, and her hips lifted off the bed, her sex begging for his touch. Lifting his hand, he spanked her lightly with his open palm, then returned to his massage, whispering his fingers where she ached for them to stroke.
She was completely unaware of any remaining nodules of tension in her body. Simon’s magic hands had infused her flesh with a dense prurient potency. Unable to control her craving a moment longer, she moved quickly, spinning her body around to face him, her hands urgently pushing aside his robe. Reaching for his cock, finding it swollen and dripping with evidence of its need, she hungrily lowered her mouth. Groaning with his own hot wanting, Simon grasped her hair, using it to her guide her movements.
“Yes, Belle, that’s lovely, just like that,” he growled, dictating the speed at which she bobbed her head.
Lifting her hand between his legs, she tickled his heavy oval organs, evoking a heavy sigh, and he closed his eyes, reveling in the attentions of her warm, moist mouth and artful lips, until it became a threat to his ability to control the looming climax. He pulled her head away, moving her on to her back.
“Don’t move,” he ordered, clambering off the bed.
Disappearing into his closet, he returned quickly with a shaving brush, a small can and a blindfold. Wasting no time he slid the blindfold over her head, its wide elastic band securely holding it in place.
“Bring your knees up,” he instructed, sitting next to her hips, and as she lifted them, he pushed them wide open, exposing her sex.
With her knees in the air and her legs spread, she felt decadent and lewd, but a moment later the scintillating brush began to play against her pussy, and any thoughts she had simply evaporated.
It was a delicious sensation, and she moaned lightly as it tickled and teased, then an unexpected wave of an astonishing sensation began to invade her sex, a synchronicity of tickling and stinging and sublime heat making her writhe and groan with need. She couldn’t begin to guess what it was and it didn’t matter. The craving, the hot, hedonistic hunger was all she could focus on.
“Simon, please, I need you,” she begged. “Oh my God, my pussy is on fire,” she exclaimed, “it feels so good.”
“I’m going to fuck you, yes indeed,” he growled.
Kneeling between her legs, he ushered his cock a few inches forward, holding himself in place, a final tease, before plunging forward.
Falling across her body, his wiry chest hairs brushing against her puckered nipples, he grabbed her wrists, pinning her down. The sensuality of the massage was gone, replaced with a sybaritic urgency that hurried them to their ultimate pleasure. This was a Simon she had not encountered, a demanding, forceful lover who was taking no prisoners, who would use her body as he wished, pummeling her depths.
“Come for me,” he commanded.
His words powered her onward, and unexpectedly the bubble was upon her, her surprising wails from the unexpected release echoing through the room, her back arching as her cavern’s walls vibrated against him answering his call. Her pussy was exploding, the heat rising up and erupting, her euphoric cries uniting with his groans of delirium as they rose to their pitch, then slowly abated as their deliverance declined, and she felt his hands pulling at her blindfold, lifting it from her head. Panting, she opened her eyes.
“Simon,” was all she could manage, and she sighed happily as he lowered his head and kissed her tenderly.
“My sweet Belle,” he breathed, then moving off the bed, he pulled off his condom and disappeared into his bathroom.
The towel in which he had wrapped her was still laying disheveled underneath her body. Rolling off it, she threw it on the floor and slid under the bedcovers. He returned carrying two bottles of Evian and crawled in to join her.
“Water?” he asked.
“Definitely, thank you,” she smiled, taking it from him and gulping it down, “and thank you for whatever it is you just did. May I ask, what that was exactly?”
“That is a special erotic powder from the far east, when lightly moistened and applied to the area of love, it transforms into a spicy, sensual foam. At least, that’s what it says on the label, and as you now know, it does just that,” he smiled. “You need not worry. It’s completely natural and can do you no harm.”
“Simon,” she sighed. “How many more of these secret sexy potions do you have? The lip gloss, now this?”
“You’ll just have to wait and find out,” he winked, “but getting back to what I was saying earlier,” he continued, his look and voice becoming serious, “a relationship, having another person living with me, I’m truly happy about it, very happy, but it’s all new for me. I hope you’ll be patient as I sort my way through. Can you do that?”
“Simon, every relationship is new to some degree. I’ve never lived with a man either. This is a big first for me too. I think if we just go with our feelings everything will fall into place,” she promised. “We both want the same thing, don’t we? To take this a day at a time and enjoy each other?”
“Once again, you put me to shame,” he sighed. “Yes, you’re exactly right.”
Putting the water bottle on the nightstand, she turned and cuddled against him.
“Simon, can I ask you something?”
“Of course. You can ask me anything.”
“Do you always wear a condom?”
She felt him shift against her and sensed a discomfort.
“Sorry, should I not have asked?”
“No, it’s fine. I’ve never thought about it. I’ve never had sex without one,” he declared.
Belle sat up, staring at him.
“Never? Not ever?”
“Why would I? I’ve never wanted to risk anyone becoming pregnant, and I don’t want to catch anything.”
“I’m on the pill, and I don’t have any diseases,” she replied. “I’ll take all the tests so you can be sure. We both can. I want to feel you without your raincoat.”
He stared at her, and Belle felt a slight panic.
“Bad idea?” she asked quickly. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, I just thought–”
“Stop,” he interrupted. “I want to. I never have before, but now I want to. I really do.”
Abruptly he grabbed her, holding her tightly against his chest.
My God, am I in love?
The following morning Belle slept late, and when she finally awoke she found herself alone. Disappointed, she was climbing out of bed when she saw the note sitting on the nightstand.
Good Morning Sleepyhead. You looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake you. Call me at 933-9922 when you wake up.
Big hugs, S.
I love how you call me sleepyhead. Makes me feel all fuzzy, she sighed, and with a happy hear
t she took a quick shower, dressed in slacks and a light sweater, and returning to the bedroom picked up the phone and called the number he’d left.
“Finally. You must have been totally wiped out,” he remarked.
“I was, especially after your very amazing massage and eastern love potion,” she giggled.
“Are you feeling better?”
“Yes, just hungry. Dying for a cup of tea.”
“When you hang up, dial 7 and it will ring the kitchen. Just tell them what you want and head down to the casual dining room on the second floor. Take the elevator, turn left, third room on the right. Can’t miss it. I’m sure you’ll find it very comfortable.”
“This is all kind of unreal you know,” she remarked.
“I know, but you’ll get used to it. Amaranth said she wants to take you to a boutique called Orlando’s to pick out a dress for tomorrow night, but I want to be there. Tell her I’ll meet you both at three.”
“Okay, but how do I find her?”
“She’ll find you, trust me. As soon as you ring the kitchen Theresa will ring her. It’s all quite efficient around that house.”
“I’m sure you’d have it no other way,” Belle declared.
“You would be correct,” he chuckled. “I must go. I’m being called into my next meeting. I’ll see you at three.”
“Can’t wait. See you there.”
Hanging up the phone she sighed happily, then punched #7 for the kitchen. She asked for eggs on toast, tomatoes and a large pot of tea, and after applying a little makeup, grabbed the one handbag she’d chosen to bring, thinking she’d take a walk after her breakfast.
Opening her wallet she realized she had no English money, but she had her credit cards if she ran across anything she wanted to buy, and as she dropped it back in her bag, she smiled when she saw her dinosaur phone sitting at the bottom. It had saved her when Sean had attacked her, allowing Simon to hear her plight.
“I’m calling you T-Rex,” she announced, picking it up and kissing it. “You’re staying with me forever, even when I do get a new phone.”
The British Billionaire Bachelor, Act Two Page 2