Divertissement

by Madeleine Oh

  Divertissement

  Madeleine Oh

  John Kent wants Ellen, not just as an incredible submissive lover, but as his wife.

  To do that, he has to convince fiercely independent Ellen Forsythe that giving up her single state will be more than worth the sacrifice. Not an easy job. But John isn’t a man to waver or give up when he has a goal in sight—and Ellen is firmly in his sights.

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Divertissement

  ISBN 9781419927041

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Divertissement Copyright © 2010 Madeleine Oh

  Edited by Mary Moran

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book publication March 2010

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  DIVERTISSEMENT

  Madeleine Oh

  Trademarks Acknowledgment

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Fortnum’s: Fortnum & Mason PLC

  John Lewis: John Lewis of Hungerford PLC

  Selfridges: Selfridges Retail Limited

  Velcro: Velcro Industries B.V. LTD

  Chapter One

  “Here you are, Mr. Kent. One more signature and the property is yours.” One signature was easy enough. John signed with a flourish. It was hard to contain his excitement now that the deed was done.

  “Thank you, Mr. Kent,” Jim Banks, his solicitor, said, separating out John’s copies and slipping them in a large manila envelope. “You have something special in mind for the property?”

  He did indeed! “A nice bolt-hole, don’t you think?”

  Banks agreed wholeheartedly—a little enviously, John suspected. He thanked him, put the papers that gave him ownership of Goose Island into his briefcase and bade Banks and his clerk a good afternoon.

  Once in the car park, John threw the briefcase in the boot and set off. He hadn’t felt this excited in ages. Years in fact. But now the sheer delight of planning a truly sexy and kinky weekend for Ellen had him jubilant.

  Yes, he was a truly lucky man. He’d picked good parents. They’d not only given him kinky genes in spades but left him a respectable fortune.

  He somehow knew his father would approve of how he was spending it. And especially approve of Ellen.

  He called her once he got back to his flat in St. Katherine’s Dock but went into voicemail.

  “Call me,” was all he said. All he needed to. She would the minute she was free.

  Which was about ten minutes later. He’d just had time to make a cup of coffee and wonder whether to go out for dinner or settle for cheese on toast at home.

  Once glance at the caller ID and, damn, his cock was going hard. He had it as bad as any adolescent and it was bloody wonderful.

  “Hello, Ellen. Are you naked?”

  Even at this distance, her chuckle was sexy as hell. “Actually no, John. Since I’m standing on the platform of the Gare du Nord, it’s just as well I’m not.”

  She had a point but better not let her get too confident. “If I ordered you to take off your clothes and stand there naked, with a placard around your neck that said Property of John Kent I think you’d be fine. The French tend to respect other men’s property.” He heard the catch in her breath all the way from Paris. He bet she was getting wet between her legs too. “What if I gave that order? Would you disobey, knowing what would happen when I found out?”

  “For heaven’s sake, John! Much more of this and I’ll need to change my knickers.”

  “Would you?” he persisted. “Would you obey my command?”

  He sensed her hesitation. Could imagine her racing pulse and the scent of fresh sweat on her skin. And he knew damn well she was smiling.

  “Since that would get me arrested and really delay my getting home, you’re not going to, are you?”

  Damn! He loved her. All those idiots who thought submissive women were cowed and timid needed to meet Ellen Forsythe. Actually, on second thought, they didn’t!

  “John, the train’s coming in. Have to hang up. I’ll call back in a jiffy.”

  She was gone, and like the fool in love that he was—correction, contented fool in love—he put his phone on the arm of the chair and waited for her to call back. After all, waiting was the perfect opportunity to think out some delicious, erotic torture for when she did get home.

  * * * * *

  Ellen put her laptop on the table and her bag on the empty seat beside her and leaned back, letting out a sigh. She hadn’t been kidding about damp undies. How was it

  John could stir such a response by his voice alone, and on the other side of the Channel come to that? She smiled and let out another sigh of deliberate and pure pleasure. After the heartbreak of watching Edward die, she’d truly believed she’d never find another lover as dominant and demanding and as gloriously harsh as her late husband.

  Had she been wrong! She met John on a blind date and was smitten on sight. Had it been her submissive instincts that immediately recognized a Dominant? Or her pent-up horniness? No, it was more than lust and a need for sex. John filled the depths of her soul, satisfied her need to submit and gave her incredible sex to boot.

  And thinking of John, she picked up her mobile and pressed speed dial.

  It rang once then John’s voice asked, “Well?”

  “I am actually, very well. How about you?”

  “Horny as hell and needing you naked under me.”

  “I’m so glad.”

  “Of what? That I’m horny and in need?”

  She had to chuckle. “Yes, to be truthful, there’s nothing like knowing you fancy me to boost my ego.”

  “Sounds as though your bottom needs a good boost, Ellen. I so itch to warm up your arse until it’s all a lovely pink.”

  She wouldn’t mind if he did. “What shade of pink? Soft baby pink? A rosy hue or bright red?”

  She heard his breathing as he paused and she waited. Had she gone a wee bit too far? She didn’t think so. He liked her sauciness. Gave him a good excuse to punish her. No, he was mulling over his reply, picking words to arouse and excite her the most.

  “I think, my lovely submissive,” he said at last, “I’ll settle for nice and rosy. Just color you up with my hand—on your bare bottom of course. I want it warm to the touch and just pink enough to contrast nicely with the marks of my belt.”

  As he paused, she exhaled. She hadn’t been aware she was holding her breath but she had, and now she was panting.

  “How many stripes of the belt do you want?”

 
; Ellen took a slow breath. Or tried to. “That would be for you to decide,” she replied. “Whatever you want to give, I’ll be happy to take.” Dear heaven, this felt so good and, darn, she was creaming between her legs.

  “Oh, you most certainly will be, my love. Very, very happy. Especially when I bugger you and let you come.”

  He wasn’t kidding! “I miss you!”

  “You’re supposed to. Just think, you could be here with me, naked, on your knees, sucking my cock; instead you’re off gallivanting all over Europe.” Not exactly gallivanting and John knew it. Paris had been work. So would be Brussels. Okay, the weekend in between, in Lille, she was spending with a friend from her student days, but she hadn’t seen Eloise in five years. It was time to reforge their friendship. “Just think, Ellen, instead of having you tied to my bed while I decide what sweet torture to impose on your luscious body, I will have to content myself with watching that last video we made. Remember? When I tied you to my whipping frame and gave you a thorough flogging?”

  Did she indeed! “Yes, I remember.” Wasn’t likely to forget either. The scene they played had been scorching hot, but when she’d watched the video with John, she’d been horrified how fat her bottom looked. She’d resolved to go on a diet before the next video session.

  “I thought you might,” he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. “It won’t be the same without you.”

  True. “It’s only just over a week, John.” Would she last that long with phone calls like this every day?

  “I’ll be waiting and, by the way, I have a surprise for you. Bought it this afternoon.”

  “What is it?”

  “Shan’t tell you. Wouldn’t be a surprise if I did, would it? I’ll tell you one thing though—it will involve you taking your clothes off.”

  Just like a good chunk of the time they spent together. John had a fetish for nudity, her nudity at least. “Goodbye.” Best end this before she started panting aloud. There were other people in the carriage.

  “’Bye, my love.”

  She had an hour to Lille. Time enough to compose herself. She hoped.

  * * * * *

  John snapped his phone shut and closed his palm around it, as if holding the damn phone brought her closer. Crikey! He had it bad, longed for her, needed her and, hell, wanted her, here, right now. But he knew better than to hold her too close. Ellen had had a life before he found her. She had old friends, as did he, work contacts and family. He hated to share her but that was the reality of loving someone. And dammit, he loved Ellen Forsythe.

  She was right—a week wasn’t that long, and besides, it gave him time to visit the island and make plans for their visit together. He somehow fancied she’d enjoy getting fucked on a clifftop.

  * * * * *

  Nine days later

  How the hell did John Kent have this effect on her? Not that she was complaining, but the mere sight of him waiting for her at St. Pancras Station was enough to set her cunt flowing, her clit tingling with anticipation and her nipples to become hard enough to rub against her bra.

  When he smiled and stepped forward, she’d swear her knees wobbled. Not that the latter mattered much with his arms around her and his mouth plastered on hers. She hugged him back and parted her lips, pressing her tongue against his as every nerve ending in her body responded to his presence.

  “I’ve so missed you,” she said as they both came up for air and he thoughtfully kept hold of her. She wasn’t too sure she could rely on her legs just yet. And no doubt he wanted to let her know just how hard he was and what she had waiting.

  “Good,” he replied. “I hoped you did as I missed you like hell.”

  “It was only a week.”

  “Ten days.”

  “Nine, if you don’t count today.”

  “We’ll make it nine then.” The look in his eyes and the wicked twist at the corner of his mouth convinced her he wasn’t talking about twenty-four-hour periods.

  “Nine, what?” Why did she have to ask? She’d find out soon enough.

  “I’m trying to decide.” He paused to grab her suitcase, good thing he did as she’d all but forgotten about it, and, taking her hand, walked across the station and toward the taxi rank. “Maybe my belt,” he continued, “it’s really been missing your touch, or perhaps the occasion calls for a cane.”

  “John! You know how I feel about a cane.”

  “Yes, my love, I do. I don’t understand why women have such an aversion to a nice, whippy cane.”

  “Because a cane bloody well hurts!”

  “And that, my dear Ellen, is the whole point.”

  They’d joined the taxi queue, so she was not about to continue the conversation.

  “I bought a new one,” he went on, obviously not possessing her reticence. “Very slender and supple, and I did try it on myself a few times, so I know just how much it will suit.”

  Him or her? She let out a deliberately long sigh.

  Damn him, he chuckled.

  Of course it was a bit illogical to protest when her clit throbbed in anticipation. Why? She loathed and hated any cane, slender and supple or not. But in John’s expert hands… She couldn’t hold back the smile, but nine? Cripes!

  “I thought you’d prefer to eat in,” John said once they were settled in the taxi, his thigh pressed against hers and his hand rested on her knee.

  “Super. I’m not that hungry.”

  “An omelet and salad?”

  “Perfect.” It was so nice to have a man who cooked, and cooked very well at that.

  “I really wish you didn’t go away so much,” he said after a pause.

  “What I earn pays my rent and keeps me in silk undies.” He loved her underwear. Especially when they came off.

  “You know I’d gladly pay your rent and anything else you need.”

  And he could well afford it…but. “John, if I can’t stand on my own two feet, how could kneel at yours?”

  He went silent. So, come to that, did she. That pretty much said it all.

  He didn’t say another word, but his hand moved from her knee to clasp hers, and when she glanced sideways, he was smiling.

  Ellen’s words sunk in. Deep. Much as it rattled his need to provide her everything, take care of her and pretty much orchestrate her entire existence in and out of his bed, his playroom and his twisted fantasies, he understood. Ellen needed to be utterly self-sufficient before she could surrender completely, and to share in the surrender, he’d accept that. How could he not? It was part of what made her so splendid. No, that wasn’t good enough, she was far, far more than a mere “splendid”, she was magnificent, incredible, sexy beyond his wildest dreams and utterly and gloriously submissive.

  After Adele died, something inside him had shriveled up. Oh yes, he’d had lovers since, some who were happy to respond to his dominant needs. Fellow dominants, on occasion, had loaned him their submissives. Not a single one had aroused in him the emotion and commitment he felt toward Ellen. He’d freely admit—at least to himself—he was the proverbial fool in love. All he was waiting for was the right moment to tell her.

  Trouble was, he’d postponed the deed for weeks—out of dread she might not feel the same.

  He was a dominant but a dithering one when it came to the pinch.

  “John.” It was Ellen shaking his arm. No, his hand actually, which was warm in her grasp. “We’re here.”

  Damn, they were. The taxi had pulled up in front of his flat and the driver was looking back at them.

  “We’re here, guv,” he said.

  Right. Time to take back control.

  Driver paid and pulling Ellen’s case behind him, John walked through the automatic doors and slipped his key card into the lift.

  In moments they stood in the hallway of his flat. He turned on the light and sat on a straight-backed chair against the wall.

  “All right, my love,” he said. “Get it off. Every last stitch of clothing.”

  How luscious it was that
she still blushed. And even more wonderful, her calm confidence as she pulled off her jacket and hung it on the hall stand just as she kicked off her shoes. Skirt unzipped, she let it fall. Smiling at him as she stepped out of it and bending over very slowly, giving him a full view of her splendid arse as she picked up her skirt, shook it out and laid it over the back of a chair.

  She was wearing red silk French knickers and stay-up-on-their-own black stockings that she rolled down slowly, one leg at a time, as she rested her foot on the chair.

  The dark blue blouse coming off—after she unbuttoned the row of pearl buttons with wicked slowness—showed a matching bra. Yes, he could appreciate her comment about keeping herself in underwear. Although he was rather tempted to grab her and rip off those decidedly provocative French knickers, he restrained himself. Worth it really as she leaned over and unhooked her bra before easing down the aforementioned French knickers and stepping out of the little pile of silk and lace that descended to her feet.

  It was the smile that almost did him in. A wonderful mix of fun, sexiness, anticipation and the confidence of an experienced submissive.

  He stood up and crossed the meter or so between them. “Don’t move,” he said as he ran the flat of his hands across her shoulders and down over her breasts, rubbing her nipples even harder than they were already before stroking down her belly to cup her pussy.

  Her breath caught as he gave a gentle tug on her piercing and slipped a fingertip between her pussy lips. “You keep yourself bare here just for me, don’t you?” he asked.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Does it hurt when it’s waxed?”

  She swallowed. “Yes.”

  “But you’ll do it again and again as long as I want, won’t you?”

  “Yes.” This came on the tail end of a gasp. Most likely because he caught her piercing with the back of his hand as he slipped his finger deeper. She was lusciously wet. For him.

  He kissed her shoulder as he withdrew his hand and whispered, “Would you like mushrooms in your omelet?”