The Initiation of Ms Holly (Xcite Erotic Romance Novels)

by Grace, K D

  Vivienne raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. ‘Come on, girl. You’re not one of Leo’s little pets any more. You can speak. After all, we’re practically family, aren’t we?’

  ‘I sort of enjoyed the quiet,’ Rita said, mentally high-fiving herself for being so glib.

  ‘Well, I certainly wouldn’t miss your horrible Mid-Western accent.’

  ‘I’m from Seattle,’ Rita said.

  Vivienne waved her hand as though swatting away an annoying insect. ‘Never mind. I figured the ride back to London would give us some girl time. I’m sure you must have all kinds of questions about Edward, and no one knows Edward better than I do.’

  When Rita made no response, Vivienne offered a little pout. ‘Surely Edward hasn’t already told you everything. Of course not.’ She raised a dumb blonde finger to her mouth and pursed her lips. ‘If he had, you wouldn’t still be here.’ She shrugged playfully. ‘Never mind, it’ll be so much fun when all is revealed.’

  Before Rita could respond, Vivien leaned forward and stroked the fabric of the sun dress. ‘Lovely outfit. Leo always did have exquisite taste. I let him dress me occasionally. Only when I’m not in a hurry, though. Leo likes to take his time.’ She ran a hand down her breasts to linger on the ribbon that laced the bustier. ‘Lorelei dressed me today. She knows how to showcase my best assets.’ She chuckled softly. ‘I can tell you agree.

  ‘Oh don’t look so surprised. I could feel you gawping at me from the moment you got in the limo.’ She gave the ribbon a tug and it loosened. Then she slowly began to unlace. ‘You want to see what’s underneath, don’t you? You want to see my tits, I know you do.’ She gave her breasts a knead. ‘Edward likes to pinch my nipples. Nobody can make them as tight and hard as Edward can. He makes it hurt. He knows I like it. Then he bites them. He has me bouncing all over the bed when he does that. Well, whenever we’re actually in a bed.’

  Vivienne pulled the bustier open as she spoke, all the while her eyes were locked on Rita. ‘Does it bother you when I talk about what Edward does to me? Do you want me to stop?’ She let out her breath slowly and shifted until her breasts were free. ‘I didn’t think so. You want to know what he does to me. You want to know because it makes you feel like you know him a little better.’ She caressed her nipples between thumbs and forefingers, then slid her right hand down between her thighs.

  Rita felt as though her chest would explode with some hybrid of anger and hurt. She couldn’t listen. She daren’t. It was too much to know, too personal. And yet she held her breath, desperate for Vivienne to continue.

  ‘The way he touches me down there, it’s like just by fingering my cunt, he can somehow get to rest of me. All of me.’ Vivienne moaned and kicked off her strappy stilettos. With the agility of a gymnast, she slid her foot up over Rita’s belly, wriggling down in the seat until Rita caught a glimpse of the pink folds of her cunt, clean-shaven, open like a hungry mouth peeking from under the mini skirt. ‘He nibbles my clit like he does my nipples, until it hurts, and just when I’m about to cry, I come. I come so hard. Then he goes down on me, deep down, so deep that I feel like he’s worked his way completely inside of me. You know, clear up here.’ She laid a hand between her breasts. ‘Then when he comes up his face is wet from me, like he’s been in the ocean. And I taste me on him when he kisses me just before he pushes into me.’

  She slid her foot up on to the bodice of Rita’s sundress, pausing to knead each of her breasts in turn with long, slender toes. Then she curled them over the top of the bodice and pulled it away from Rita’s breasts, making a little purr of a giggle at the back of her throat as Rita caught her breath. ‘Shall I tell you more?’ Then she gripped Rita’s left nipple between her toes and pinched until Rita yelped. But before she could separate the pain from the pleasure, Vivienne withdrew and pushed Rita’s knees apart with her foot. She manoeuvred cherry-lacquered toes between Rita’s thighs, and in spite of herself, Rita couldn’t hold back a little whimper as Vivienne’s agile toes curled around the crotch of her thong, pushed it aside, then wriggled in between her labia.

  She felt like she would burst into flame. She wished she had the willpower to push Vivienne away, but instead, she slid down in the seat, opened her legs, and pressed onto Vivienne’s probing foot, thrusting back breathlessly.

  Vivienne pulled and tugged at her own nipples, shoving the clinging bustier out of the way with a soft curse. Her other hand caressed her pout in long flat strokes. Somewhere in the back of her sex-addled mind, Rita observed that Vivienne wore no panties. Her cunt lips were swollen and splayed wide as her fingers darted in and out of her hole, and the scent of their pussies blended in the air like some exotic perfume. Rita watched in fascination as the woman tweaked her clit until it burst from beneath its hood, pearlescent with the sheen of her juices.

  Vivienne continued. ‘He can hold his load for ages, Edward can. He likes to make me wait for it, beg for it.’ She bit her lip. ‘He can be so cruel sometimes. But when he’s inside me, I’m so full, so absolutely full, and I feel like if he pushes just a little harder, just the tiniest bit, I’ll explode with such force that when it’s all over, there’ll be nothing left of me.’

  Then Vivienne became non-verbal, struggling to breathe, while Rita watched and ached, pressed against her thrusting toes. The woman ground her arse into expensive leather upholstery and humped the four fingers buried in her grasping cunt. Little mewling sounds escaped her throat. Her other hand assaulted her breasts in great kneading fistfuls of soft round flesh.

  When Vivienne’s orgasm convulsed over her and jerked her against the seat, she gave the crotch of Rita’s thong a hard yank with her toes, tugging it tight between the folds of Rita’s pussy, holding her splayed open and unsatisfied against the fabric, forcing her to watch while she came. She held Rita there while she caught her breath, then she released her, wiped her foot on the inside of Rita’s thigh and slipped it back into her shoe. ‘You’re a voyeur at the gate, Rita, ogling what you can’t comprehend, but think you want.’ Her eyes were ice, her lips were drawn tight against her teeth. ‘As for my relationship with Edward, well you couldn’t begin to understand what Edward and I share, so stop trying.’

  Rita felt as though she had been gut-punched. She could do nothing but gape in a cocktail of shame and anger as Vivienne fumbled in her bag for a silk handkerchief, leisurely wiping and caressing her folds before she laced her breasts back into the bustier and straightened her skirt.

  Luckily, Vivienne’s mobile rang, and she chatted happily to Lorelei about some planned trip to the south of France. It was as though Rita were not even there. She tidied herself, burning with anger and frustration, unable to believe she had let the bitch get to her, and on such a basic level. How could she have let anyone reduce her to this, to begging for glimpses into Edward’s sex life, private glimpses that were not hers to have. But then none of it was hers to have. That was the problem. She didn’t belong in this world.

  All the more reason to finish the initiation, minimise contact with Edward, and just do her work. Once the exposé was out, she could take her pick of jobs and never look back. This was the break she needed, she reminded herself for the hundredth time. She should be thanking Vivienne for the stiff kick-in-the-ass reminder.

  When the limo arrived at Rita’s flat an hour later, Vivienne was still on the mobile and offered no good-bye, no sign that she had even noticed Rita leaving.

  Inside her flat, Rita started the kettle then listened to the messages on her mobile that had accumulated while she was away. Most of them were from Owen, wondering how their big project was coming along and asking if she could email him Rory’s address, if she had it. It took her a few minutes to realise he was talking about Aurora.

  She had barely got the coffee made and the computer booted, when her mobile signalled an incoming text.

  R U alrite? Sorry abt V bringing U home. U wr amazng at L’s. U r always & endlessly amazing, my love. Thank U! EXX

  It took a tremendous am
ount of restraint, but she didn’t respond to the text. Vivienne was right. She didn’t know anything about Edward. She wouldn’t even know him if she met him on the street. How could she so easily and completely allow herself to forget something so disturbing?

  The flat felt stuffy from being shut up all week. She opened the window next to the computer and breathed in the fresh air. As she pushed back the curtains, she noticed a lone car setting beneath the street light. The man inside seemed to be peering up at her flat. She squinted. Surely he wasn’t looking through binoculars?

  She quickly stepped back and pulled the curtains. Vivienne was making her paranoid. It was probably just someone who had pulled over to make a phone call. Maybe the wife had phoned him to pick up a curry on the way home. She turned back to the business at hand.

  The best way to deal with The Mount and all its bullshit was research. She started back at the beginning. Every journalist knows how easy it is to miss the obvious when she’s looking for something bigger.

  After being trapped in a limo for two hours with the bitch, Vivienne seemed like a good place to start. Rita googled her, as she had before, and found exactly what she had found before. Vivienne Arlington Page managed The Mount. Part of The Mount’s appeal was Vivienne’s Garbo mystique. She was a master of showing herself at the right time in the right place, to the right people, but only very sparingly.

  If information on Vivienne was scant, it was non-existent on Edward. He wasn’t mentioned in any of the write-ups she could find about The Mount. There was no last name, no first name, no photos, no Edward at all mentioned in connection with The Mount. There was a brief mention of Lorelei Grimes Slater, Leo Peregrine Banacek, Alexander Felix Benton, Morgan Tennyson Hanes, even Aurora Lytton Barnet. And though information on any of them was sketchy at best, there was absolutely nothing on Edward. It was as though he didn’t exist. And certainly without a last name, there was no pursuing him further.

  The thought of Edward’s apparent non-existence gave her a chill. How had she missed this before? Had she just not wanted to see? Vivienne said he was a monster. Vivienne said if Rita knew his secrets, she’d have nothing to do with him. She chafed her goose-fleshed arms, then remembered the window was open. As she stood to close it, she noticed the car had not moved, and the driver was definitely looking up at her flat with binoculars.

  Damn The Mount! Damn the day she had ever set foot in the place. It wasn’t bad enough that they had invaded her life, now they had to watch her 24/7 as well. That was it. She’d had enough of Vivienne’s shit. She had no one’s number but Edward’s mobile, which she really didn’t want to use tonight. But, damn it, she wasn’t going to be spied on. She texted.

  Y is V hvng my flat watched!?

  Only seconds later she got a response.

  No 1 frm TM watching your flat. Stay put. Sending someone 2 chk out situ. EXX

  Sending someone! Goddamn it, he was always sending someone, never coming himself. Just as she was about to have a good rage, she noticed the message light blinking on the land line. She picked it up and listened to the message.

  ‘Rita, darling. I’m so sorry for my part in all that’s happened. You’re my daughter and I love you. Please can’t we make this right? Please call me.’

  There were four more messages just like it. As she deleted them, she suddenly realised what was actually happening, and she dropped onto the sofa still clutching the phone in her hand. Of course it wasn’t Vivienne spying on her. She grabbed her mobile and texted Edward.

  My mistake. Bloke stopped to use mobile

  she lied. She wasn’t about to tell Edward that her own mother was spying on her. Jesus, the woman couldn’t have picked a worse time.

  To her surprise, and disappointment, there was no text back.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘YOU MS HOLLY?’ THE delivery man asked.

  She found herself fighting the urge to lie, not sure what Vivienne and The Mount would throw at her next.

  ‘This is for you.’ He handed her a large oblong box in brown-paper wrapping and eyed her curiously as she signed his electronic pad. No doubt he was wondering what sex toys the pervy chick had ordered that arrived in brown paper. He’d be shocked if he knew what the pervy chick actually got up to. She offered him a sweet smile, and he blushed before turning quickly and disappearing down the hall.

  In the privacy of her lounge, she opened the box to discover a black leather cat-suit heavily weighted with zippers, snaps, chains and other pieces of metal which made Rita shiver to even contemplate. She was pretty sure the suit weighed as much as she did. The costume was complete with thigh high boots, a bomber jacket, and a hand-written note that read:

  Don’t touch, don’t fondle, and don’t experiment. Just put on the suit and nothing else, then wait for me.

  Morgan

  Visions of the high councilman with the leopard tattoo flashed through her head – and her cunt.

  Morgan needn’t have worried that she would experiment or play with the suit, and certainly not that she might put something on under it. There was barely room for skin under it. With the efforts of a contortionist and a fair amount of cursing out loud, she finally got it up over her hips and shoulders, but thoughts of zipping it above her navel made her break out in a cold sweat.

  She didn’t have to wait long before there was a soft knock on the door. A glance through the peep hole assured her that it was Morgan. The intriguing tattoo was completely covered in black leather, all topped off with a heavy bomber jacket. She opened the door just enough to let him in.

  Immediately his brown sugar gaze took in the unzipped front of the suit and the way her arms were folded protectively over her breasts.

  She blushed hard. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m –’

  ‘Claustrophobic. Yes I know, kitten.’ She noticed the tiniest bit of Western twang. ‘Edward threatened me about it ad nauseam downstairs just now. That’s what took me so long.’

  Her heart suddenly leaped into her throat. ‘Edward’s downstairs?’

  ‘Well, he was. I sent him home. I’m here now, luv, and I promised I’d take good care of you.’

  She tried to sound matter-of-fact. ‘How long had he been down there?’

  ‘Ever since he got your text about someone spying on you.’

  ‘Why didn’t he come up?’

  He held her gaze. ‘Sweet cheeks, you know why he didn’t come up.’ He changed the subject. ‘Now about this lovely suit. Just let me help you with it, and you’ll see why it’s so perfect for someone who suffers from your affliction.’

  She struggled to drag her thoughts back from Edward as Morgan coaxed her arms away from her chest and released a long sigh at the sight of her breasts barely covered by the unzipped front of the cat suit. ‘Oh we’re gonna have so much fun.’ He covered her lips in an open mouth kiss that tasted of caramel and coffee. His tongue flicked across her hard palate and wrestled lightly with hers. He slipped his right hand inside the cat suit to cup her breast and raked a thumb over her heavy nipple. Then he rolled it against his index finger until the pinch of it was so close to pain that she held her breath waiting for it. Or was it pleasure she waited for?

  Morgan’s chuckle was hot against her mouth. ‘You’re so full of anticipation, kitten, so full of needs you don’t even know about yet. I smell it on you, all of it and more.’ He lowered his mouth to her nape and bit. And she definitely felt pain, but her pussy felt something a whole lot nicer.

  Then as though he were about his everyday business, he began to fiddle with the chains on the front of the suit. She could see little of what he was doing, but she could hear a snap here and a chink there and occasionally feel the cool metal against her sternum. At last he pulled away and inspected his work.

  Where the zipper would have confined her tits into a breathless hug, there was a loose lacing of chain linked and criss-crossed bustier-fashion revealing the mounds of her breasts while concealing nipple and areola. ‘There,’ he breathed. ‘That’s bet
ter, isn’t it?’

  He walked around behind her to take in the over-all effect. ‘Ever ridden a Harley?’

  ‘Motorcycle? No.’

  ‘Don’t look so frightened, sweetness. I’ve been riding since I was a pup.’ His lips curled into an edible smile. ‘I promise I’ll make it good for you.’

  He knelt and helped her into the boots, lingering to suckle her toes and kiss her insteps before guiding her feet into the soft insides then slowly zipping them up and up and up. At last he stood and held the bomber jacket for her. ‘Our steed awaits.’

  Outside a few neighbourhood teenagers had gathered around to admire the biggest, sleekest vintage Hog Rita had ever seen, complete with silver wings painted stylistically across the petrol tank along with the words, Pegasus III. It took her a few seconds to realise that the boys’ attention had shifted away from the Harley. ‘Could we please go,’ she whispered, feeling like she did in her dreams when she found herself suddenly naked at the office or in the queue at Sainsbury’s.

  But Morgan took his time buckling her into the helmet, making sure it wasn’t too tight, making certain she wasn’t claustrophobic. When she started to get on behind him, he shook his head, scooted back slightly and patted the leather seat in front of him.

  She balked. ‘Isn’t that illegal?’

  ‘Not if we don’t get caught.’ He patted the spot in front of him again and chuckled. ‘Trust me. It’s the best seat in the house.’

  Trying to ignore the mutterings and the stares of the teenagers, she climbed on the Harley in front of him, a little less gracefully than she had planned. Fortunately the resulting blush was contained within the helmet.

  Morgan knew only one speed and that was suicidal. The g-force of acceleration strong-armed her back against his chest with a yelp that was fortunately drowned by the roar of the Hog. It seemed to her that Morgan was taking the fastest way out of town, weaving in and out of traffic with such terrifying manoeuvres that she feared heart failure was imminent. They had only gone a few blocks when she gave up shouting at him to stop. He either couldn’t hear, or was ignoring her.