by Helena Stone
Jake took her arm and led her toward the house. She didn’t know why, but she had the distinct feeling that this house was hiding some secrets. Secrets that she’d bet Jake knew about but wasn’t telling her. What’s he up to?
They climbed the stone steps leading up to a heavy, oak door and, just as they approached the top step, the door opened and an impeccably groomed doorman stepped aside to allow them entry. “Good afternoon, Sir,” he said to Jake, and bowed slightly.
Frankie scowled. How rude of him not to address her as well.
Jake nodded at the doorman as he led them across an enormous hallway toward an antique desk discreetly placed near a grand piano. The only sound came from the old creaking floorboards and the crackle of an open fire on the other side of the spacious hall. The burning wood, mixed with the smell of beeswax and furniture polish, added to the calm, but slightly austere, ambiance of the grand hall.
When they reached the desk, a tall, elegant lady emerged from behind a door and greeted them with a friendly smile.
“Jake. How nice to see you again.” The lady’s voice was warm as she shook Jake’s hand before turning her gaze to Frankie. “And you must be Francesca.”
“Frankie. Mrs. Hamilton,” snapped Frankie. She was aware that Jake had stayed at the hotel for one of his writing workshops recently, but still, she wasn’t impressed by this woman’s over-familiarity. She thought this was supposed to be a classy establishment?
The lady ignored Frankie’s clipped tone and handed Jake a card. “Sign this please.”
As Jake checked them in, the lady turned back to Frankie. “I’m Cleo, manager of the East Wing.”
Frankie frowned. “The East Wing?”
“That’s where all the fun happens at weekends.” She winked in an almost conspiratorial way then turned her attention back to Jake, who had finished signing the necessary paperwork.
“James will take you to your room now. Welcome drinks will be served at six o’clock in the drawing room. Please be prompt. In the meantime, feel free to make the most of our facilities.” Cleo nodded at an older man dressed as an old-fashioned butler, who politely bowed and took their bags.
As soon as they were alone in their room, Frankie shrugged her coat off and looked around. The room was enormous, with a large bay window at one end and a stone fireplace at the other. A bigger than average four-poster bed dominated the room, its bedspread and cushions matching the heavy curtains framing the windows.
Frankie’s eyes were immediately drawn to a very expensive-looking desk against the far wall and her mind wandered to the small laptop she’d secretly hidden in her bag before they’d left. If she could persuade Jake to disappear for a while, she might be able to finish the report she was working on.
Fixing a smile on her face she turned to Jake. “Why don’t you go down for a swim while I unpack? I assume there’s a pool?”
To her surprise, though, Jake shook his head and crossed his arms firmly across his chest. “I don’t think so,” he said in a low voice. “I thought we agreed—no work this weekend?”
“No. You decided. I didn’t agree.”
She turned her back on him to find her bag. Let him sulk. If he really was so fucking adamant that she stayed in this stuffy old place, he could at least allow her an hour or two to finish her work.
Jake suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders, swung her round to face him and pushed her hard against the door. She gasped, completely thrown off guard. He held her in place with a steely grip. Then he reached up, took her chin firmly in his free hand and forced her to look at him.
Outrage exploded deep inside her, but before she had a chance to express it, he clamped his lips down hard on hers and forced his tongue into her mouth. Her first instinct was to struggle, but as that was futile she remained completely immobile under his iron grip.
Then, to her horror, an old familiar heat ignited between her legs and she weakened as Jake continued to take what he wanted from her. The kiss was anything but gentle, and Frankie knew, with a sinking feeling, what that meant. Jake was in Dom mode and, damn, she was responding.
No, no, no. I can’t—won’t submit again. But she couldn’t deny the dull ache in her pussy and her legs trembled slightly with the realization that she was enjoying Jake’s rough treatment of her.
Suddenly, though, just as quickly as he’d grabbed her, he let go again, leaving her standing unsteady and speechless by the door, her lips swollen and her eyes filled with tears. Jake towered silently over her, his eyes burning with raw emotion.
“I said no work this weekend. I want your undivided attention—and your complete surrender.” His voice was gravelly and dangerous when he finally spoke.
That was when it dawned on her that she’d been set up. This was no ordinary hotel. He’d lured her here under the pretense of a romantic weekend, but she knew that when he demanded her surrender like that, he had anything but romance in mind.
Anger simmered deep inside her as his words echoed in her ears. “You bastard,” she hissed. She pushed him roughly away from her then stormed toward a door she assumed led to the bathroom. But just as she reached out for the handle, Jake grabbed her from behind and practically threw her onto the bed. Without a word, he pinned her down with one hand while he pulled her skirt unceremoniously up over her thighs.
Frankie was so shocked, she didn’t react at first. Was he going to force himself on her? He’d never done that before, even when they’d been in the most intense stage of their D/s relationship. She whimpered as he pulled her knickers down just far enough for him to gain access to her pussy, and when he parted her legs and thrust two fingers deep inside her, she cried out in dismay and lust.
He abruptly withdrew his fingers again and sat up. Without a word, he held his hand up in front of her face and she knew she’d lost the fight. His fingers were glistening with her arousal. He’d made his point. Even she couldn’t deny the obvious evidence of her body’s betrayal.
Jake watched Frankie’s face change from defiance to shock as he held her eyes with his own. He knew it! Once a submissive, always a submissive, just like he would always be a Dom. But he couldn’t be too complacent. He may have won round one, but there was a long way to go before Frankie would agree to the things he had planned for her this weekend.
And he needed to tell her about Marco. He knew she would instantly recognize their old friend when they went down to join the other guests later. Marco was very memorable—tough, even taller than himself, with muscles to match those of any professional rugby player. He’d heard plenty of women talk about his edgy good looks and powerful presence, so it was no surprise that Marco had submissives literally throwing themselves at his feet. Even Frankie hadn’t been immune to his rough charm and had happily submitted when they had both topped her a couple of times in the past.
Frankie would realize that Marco’s presence at this hotel wouldn’t be coincidental. It was time to come clean. He looked at her outraged face and his heart contracted painfully. God, he loved her. He just prayed that she loved him enough to agree to his demands one more time.
“Jake…”
“Shut up, Frankie. For once in your life, just listen without judging or interrupting.” He could hear the steel in his own voice and knew the effect it would be having on her right now. She never could resist the uncompromising tone he used as a Dom.
Her mouth opened then shut again, and he gave an inward sigh of relief that she would at least hear him out. Not that he was giving her much choice.
“I know your work is important to you, but there was a time when I was important to you too.” He wanted to make his point without causing too much pain so he’d decided to completely avoid bringing up the trauma of the baby. It was too painful for both of them and stirring up the grief again might do more harm than good. No, he’d keep this simple.
“Frankie, we can’t go on like this. We’re like two strangers living under the same roof—we don’t talk, laugh or even cry together anymore.
I still love you though—a lot—and I want to try to see if there’s any way we can save our marriage.” He ignored her intake of breath and continued before she had a chance to make some sort of cutting remark.
“I’ve brought you here to try to rekindle the spark I believe is still there.” He paused for effect and took a deep breath before speaking the words that could make or break them.
“I want you to submit to me one more time this weekend. I mean unconditionally, for the whole weekend. If, after that, you don’t feel there’s any chance of a reconciliation, I’ll leave, if that’s what you want.”
“Why do you want me to submit to you? Why don’t we just talk?” growled Frankie, her eyes flashing dangerously.
Jake sighed. If only it were that easy. “That’s the problem. We never talk these days and I know you’ll only try to fob me off with shit you think I want to hear. I think the only way for any honesty is to break down some of those barriers you’ve built up, and the only way I know of that can do that is for you to submit again. If, after that, we can work things out but you don’t want to resume our D/s relationship, I’ll accept that. But, right now, it all comes down to a sad but simple choice or we’ll end up another divorce statistic.”
She flinched at the word ‘divorce’. He’d used it deliberately to see if there would be any reaction, and he was relieved to see there had been. He could tell she was struggling to take it all in. Her eyes were darting around the room, looking everywhere but at him, and she was twisting her wedding ring, the way she always did when she was unsure.
“What exactly is this place?” she asked, quietly. Whether she was genuinely interested or she was just buying some extra time, he couldn’t tell.
“Remember Marco Alessi?”
Her eyes widened, telling him that she did remember. He wasn’t an easy person to forget. Slowly, she nodded.
“Well, Marco owns this hotel. During the week it’s a business and conference center, but at weekends the East Wing opens as an exclusive BDSM hotel. The theme this weekend is Vanilla Spice.”
She giggled—a sound he hadn’t heard in a while. “Vanilla Spice?”
He couldn’t help grinning back as he nodded. “It’s aimed at BDSM beginners or people who are a little rusty in the lifestyle. The emphasis will be on Dominance and submission as opposed to S & M. Nothing hardcore.” It didn’t pass him by that the first time they’d both smiled in a long while was when the subject of BDSM had come up.
“How long have you been planning this?” She sounded calmer now, less agitated.
“I bumped into Marco when I was here for the writing workshop and he invited us to visit.” He saw a frown crease her brow and quickly added, “He doesn’t know anything about our current relationship other than the fact that it’s been a while since we played.”
“Oh.”
He straightened his shoulders, making sure he towered over her while she remained on the bed. Then he crossed his arms and gave her his sternest look, the one that used to turn her legs to jelly.
“So, Frankie. What’s it to be? Submit or divorce?”
He held his breath as he waited for her reply and, when she opened her mouth to speak, it took all his strength not to gather her in his arms in the hope that it would affect her decision.
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About the Author
Helena Stone is a Dutch national who followed her husband to Ireland where they now enjoy peace and quiet in the middle of nowhere. She has been reviewing books for years but only recently decided to try her hand at writing romantic fiction. She enjoys walking, wine, a wide variety of music genres and anything book related. Her biggest treasures are her husband, daughter and dog.
Helena indulges her fantasies in her writing. She enjoys giving her characters their happy ever after even while she gives them obstacles and heartbreak to overcome first.
She made her debut in ‘The First Annual BDSM Writers Conference Anthology’, with a short story titled ‘A Virgin Again’.
Email: [email protected]
Helena loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totallybound.com.
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