by Flora Dain
Jake glowers at me and whispers, “The man’s a megalomaniac. Someone should put a stop to it. I’ll get my own back someday. Don’t you worry.”
He glances round to see we’re being watched. In a louder voice he offers an apology. “My fault, Tunis. Should’ve warned you, I guess.”
I distract him by asking how he feels about his coming task and he brightens up like he always does when he gets technical. “Today should be really interesting. I like doing family shots. You get some moving moments. Lighting might be tricky. Indoor locations can be a bit hit and miss.” He leans forward to hiss in my ear in a loud stage whisper. “That’s the trouble with these moguls—always throwing their weight around.”
I grin back, relieved he’s in such a good mood. “Watch you don’t get trampled next time he heads an invasion.”
He snorts. “If that’s a veiled reference to Genghis Khan, it’s Mongols, not moguls, airhead.” Instantly we’re teens again, sparring for fun.
As the car finally draws up at the pretty country church where the christening will take place, I’ve almost forgiven him for yesterday’s ordeal. How can Cade possibly think that Jake, of all people, is a threat?
* * * *
By early evening I’ve signed my name dozens of times, posed with the beaming baby, posed without it and posed with beaming parents and small groups of beaming guests so often that I vow I’ll never again be rude about movie stars or anybody else who has to do this for a living. I’m exhausted.
My face aches from smiling. My head reels with the names of people I’ll never see again. It’s very hard work.
Cade’s everywhere, shaking hands, being the genial employer, making a point of keeping Jake in tow at all times. But most of all, I’m deeply touched when I meet the Martins.
“Mr. Fitzlean’s paid for everything,” Mrs. Martin whispers in her soft Wiltshire accent as I sign her autograph. “He’s been so good. And I was thrilled when he said he’d bring you. It’s like having royalty. Makes it a real day to remember.”
The service is held in a pretty country church but the reception afterward is at a grand country hotel with a marquee set up on the grounds. As the sunlight turns to gold and the shadows lengthen into evening, the guests are invited to stay on for a buffet supper followed by dancing.
Cade appears at my elbow with Jake and Sonja in tow. “I think it’s time we left these good people to party.”
His look sweeps over me, drinking me in. Since stepping out of the car this morning, I’ve felt his eyes burning into me all day. We’ve barely spoken, but every time we’ve touched—during photos or talking casually with the guests—I’ve felt a tingle of electricity. Each time I’ve taken care to step out of range and focus on what I’m doing.
Each time the feeling has lingered, leaving a shimmer of excitement that’s been building into a surge of heat.
As the others leave, I linger to make some final farewells. When I finally emerge at the entrance to the hotel, Cade is waiting alone. His eyes meet mine with a gleam that could melt rock. “I sent the others back on their own. We’re staying for a while.”
I take a slow, steady breath. “You want to dance?”
He smiles slowly. “Later, maybe.”
* * * *
Our suite’s on the top floor. It’s smaller than the apartment at Beat Hall, with plainer furniture and homelier bedding, but I get no time to explore.
As we walk in, he seizes me by the waist, spins me round and fastens his mouth on mine like a man starved. I tear at his shirt and tie as he reaches behind me to slide down my zipper and unpeel my dress.
Soon we’re standing in a pool of clothing. With an impatient thrust of his foot, he kicks it away and sweeps me into his arms. “I’ve wanted to do this all day. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I’ve never seen anyone light up a room like you can.”
We land in a heap on the bed and his mouth descends again. I hear him growl low in his throat as I writhe luxuriously against his jutting erection, letting his heat scorch the cool, smooth skin of my belly.
His hands are everywhere—along my flanks, over my breasts, kneading my bottom with long, firm sweeps of his fingers. His touch is electrifying. It sends urgent signals all through me, fusing into a dull throb deep between my legs.
With a sudden lurch he rolls over onto his back. I sit across his hips as he holds me up by the ribs, his fingers gripping me firmly. His thumbs jut provocatively into my breasts. I survey him in triumph, his magnificent torso laid out before me like a banquet. I lean down and touch my lips to his breastbone to make a start.
He laughs softly. “Hey, not so fast. We’ve got things to do first.”
I settle at either side of his chest and run my fingers lightly over his chest hair, thrilling as his tiny nipples sharpen into nubs under my searching, teasing fingertips. “What sort of things?”
I lean forward, letting my loosened hair flow over him. He runs his hand through it and holds a lock of it to his face. He breathes in with a deep sigh.
With a powerful thrust of his hips, he tips me onto the bed beside him. “Your training session. Forgotten so soon? You’re not getting out of it just because we’re off site.” He sits up beside me, his face stern.
“Now?”
His smile has vanished. In a blink he’s no longer the genial employer bestowing gifts all round, he’s back in control and he’s serious. “Now. Kneel.”
“But… I need the bathroom. I’ve had a long afternoon, Cade. Please.”
I need more than the bathroom. I need a few seconds to prepare.
He pauses, his expression opaque. “Okay. Take a few minutes then I want you back here.”
He gets off the bed, finds his jacket in the heap of clothes he’s just kicked across the floor and reaches for his phone. I watch mystified as he jabs at the keys then sets it carefully on a low table. “I’ve set a timer. Take five. Go.”
I dart into the en suite, take a long drink of water from the tap and splash some on my face. With the door shut I look at myself in the mirror. I appear the same as usual, only with more makeup and glossier hair. My eyes look unnaturally bright.
But that’s just excitement. I’ve brimmed with it all day.
As I walk slowly back into the main room he’s leaning over a small bag on the floor. It gapes open as he takes out some items with exaggerated care, weighing each one as he lifts it out then eyeing it thoughtfully.
I kneel slowly by the bed, scooping back my hair, and watch him.
He seems remote, absorbed. He’s naked, his erection jutting ominously into the air, large, luscious and purple. Along his back and shoulders, muscles ripple as he stoops to zip up the bag then stands up to push it away with his foot in a single, lithe movement.
He turns to face me, a perfectly honed, bronzed image of muscle, sinew and deep, carnal intent. His eyes lock on mine with a heat that sparks all through me.
“Put your hands behind your back.”
He walks over to me with slow, measured grace and stands before me, his erection inches from my face. “Look at me. You’re going to get a real spanking now. You’re very beautiful. You’ve done everything I asked. You’ve been preening all day, the belle of the ball. But we have to get you back into submission mode for our second session to work. Agreed?”
His voice is low, his words so quiet I can barely hear them. His meaning sends a chill through me.
Do I want this? I can negotiate here. He’s asking permission. All at once I have a choice.
I can smell his skin and the fierce earthy aroma of his private parts, so close to my face. I feel an answering signal from deep inside.
Yes, I do want it. And for some reason I’ve no wish to examine, I want it now.
“Yes, I agree.”
He sinks back onto the bed and pats his knee. “Climb up here.”
As I do so, I see the items from the bag set out neatly beside him. “What are they?”
He takes his time, arranging my legs into
position, signaling I must keep my knees straight, and holds up the items one by one. “This is a duster, this is a wheel and this is a blindfold. These are for you. These four leather cuffs are also for you, and this”—he holds up a fearsome-looking bat made of carved wood—“is a paddle. This is for me.”
A what? It looks like a table tennis bat but it’s thinner and made of heavy, polished wood. It has an elaborate pattern carved into it that lets light shine through.
I see what it is, and I’ve already guessed what it does. I shiver as he fondles my bottom, his hands sweeping deep down between my thighs. A tell-tale trickle of juice runs down the inside of my leg. I’m already dripping with arousal, and we’ve not yet started.
“The paddle’s for both of us—for one to give, the other to receive. Ready?”
I screw my eyes tight shut. Be careful what you wish for…
“Yes, Sir. I’m ready.”
Chapter Eight
My spanking is harsh but mercifully brief.
After a slow warm-up with his hands that threatens to make me come every second, he switches to the paddle. Now I’m scared.
It looks ferocious. But I’m so hot already that the few sharp, stinging blows Cade delivers with it are nothing like as bad as I’d feared.
Now I’m really on fire.
He pauses to let me get my breath then slips the blindfold over my head.
As the stings fade into a hot glow and the light blots out, I feel his hands move over me again, firm but tender, hard and soothing both at the same time.
“Okay? How does that feel? Tell me.”
It feels wonderful. I feel wonderful. But he knows this.
I take a long, shuddering breath as the heat fades on my bottom and burns somewhere else, with a fierce ache that throbs between my legs, but I have no choices here. I can only endure. “I’m fine. I feel… Oh.”
His fingers slip between my legs and deep inside me. He draws in a long, ragged breath as he encounters my wetness and my all-too-evident, shameful need.
“Okay. I can tell how it feels. You’re dripping already. That should make the rest of our session pretty interesting.”
In the soft, murky confines of the blindfold all my senses sharpen. As he gathers me in his arms, his touch is more electrifying than ever. I lean into his arms as he gets me into position on the bed, fixing my arms by clipping the cuffs to tethers looped round the bedposts then hauling me down to stretch them tight and securing my ankles.
It’s thrilling and very scary to feel so vulnerable, to be so completely at his mercy, but this is taking a long time to arrange. “What are you going to do? This is making me nervous.”
I sound husky. I realize I’m trembling.
I feel his breath close to my ear. It brings me up in goosebumps.
“Easy. Don’t be frightened. Do you trust me, Tunis?”
“Do I have any choice?”
In answer Cade fastens his mouth on mine, his kiss long and deep, his tongue gentle but insistent. I reach along it with my own, shy at first then eager, as ripples of lust glow in my belly and spread out all over my body.
At last he pulls away and I shudder as he drops light, soft kisses on my throat and moves down to each nipple in turn, teasing each with a long, lascivious lick then moves further south, along my belly.
“You always have a choice, all the time.”
His lips murmur against my skin, sending shivers all through me. “I try to guess how you’re feeling but you must always tell me if it gets to be too much. Now we’ll start.”
I can hear music, but whether it’s from the hotel or from somewhere in the room I can hardly tell. It makes a calm pattern in the background as a bewildering kaleidoscope of touch opens up in my world of darkness.
Each time I expect something painful, I feel only a soft, whisper-light feather or fingertip—or a kiss. Each time I start to relax I feel a harsh slap or a strange, metallic rasp as the spiked wheel runs over me, grazing a nipple or along the inside of my thigh.
It’s delicious, fiercely arousing and acutely disturbing. Soon I’m panting, both dreading and craving the next touch, twitching and writhing at its contact, shaky and trembling as my tingling nerve endings try to work out which it is—sharp or soft, hard or gentle, pain or pleasure. After a while, it’s impossible to tell.
All the time the deep throb between my legs is growing stronger, beating a steady drumbeat of its own as it stirs the strong, unmistakable glow of dawning orgasm. It threatens to explode inside me every time his eager, hungry lips brush along my cleft and nibble softly along my slit, swollen now and pulsing with need, every time his fingers brush my nipples into hard, jutting points, whenever his warm, firm hand lands with a slap on my rump, jolting me closer to the edge. It never quite arrives, leaving me poised on the brink of pleasure, aching for release.
At last he unfastens my ankles. I think my ordeal is over but he merely grips them firmly in both hands and flips me over.
I gasp as I cross my arms, tightening the tethers. I lean awkwardly on my elbows for support. “What’s happening?”
I feel his mouth hot on my back then the hard muscles of his thighs as he kneels at either side of me. “Kneel up with your ass in the air. I want to see my handiwork.”
I push my face hard into the mattress as he hauls me up by the hips. I gasp as he massages my punished ass, his thumbs rubbing painfully against my tender, twitching curves.
“You look sensational, Tunis—all rosy and beautiful.” He drops hot, eager kisses all over my backside, lingering on each cheek then he pulls away. “Now we’ll try an experiment.”
I feel cool air on my tender skin as he reaches across the bed to pick something up then, without warning, the paddle lands again.
This time the blows are so hard I jerk at each one, but I’m thoroughly warmed up now and giddy for more. I hardly feel the sting as the jolts clutch at my aching belly and prod my arousal ever closer to the edge.
“Okay now?” He pauses just as I think the money shot is about to land. Writhing with frustration, I cry out through clenched teeth. “Yes, yes, it’s fine. Again. Please, once more. Do it again.”
I hear him laugh softly. I squirm as he caresses me again. Juice trickles down the inside of my leg, fueling my shame.
“You want more? Certainly. With pleasure. One, then.”
It lands again, and again the jolt ricochets through me. But it’s still not enough.
“Again?”
I give an incoherent grunt and it lands again, and this time he carries on, his arm setting up a steady beat. At the fourth he stops, pauses for a moment then gives me one last swat right across the base of both cheeks. This time I’m close, really close, and he slips his hand deep between my legs and reaches my aching bud with his fingers.
Without warning, my orgasm erupts.
I scream out loud with the glory of it, my spasms coming in waves, one after another as I convulse around his hand.
It’s too much. I’m not used to this. Tears follow closely.
Instantly he unfastens me, tears off the blindfold and gathers me into his arms. I bury my head against his chest, wracked with sobs as my body eases back to normal and my pounding heart slows down.
“Wow, result. Easy now.”
He seems to hold me for a long time, but I suppose it can only be minutes before he takes my face in his hands. “Tunis, look at me.”
I do so, whisking away the last of my tears. I feel wonderful—soothed, content and ready for anything.
But his face is stern. “Now you must thank me. Kneel on the floor.”
Languid, almost sleepy, I do so.
“Put your hands behind your back.”
New excitement fizzles through me, jolting me fully awake. I do as I’m told. He looms before me, his erection impossibly large, impossibly hot. I can feel its heat on my face.
His eyes gleam briefly. “Take it in your mouth.”
Automatically I bring my hands round to caress him b
ut he shakes a finger. “No hands. Keep them behind you.”
Really? He means it. Forbidden to stroke him, I burn even hotter. Slowly I extend my tongue to lick him, thrilling to the salty taste of his skin and his heat, then work him into my mouth and suck hard at the smooth, rounded crown.
This is a real challenge. He’s very big and very erect. Positioning myself carefully so as to open my throat as wide as I can, I start to fellate him with slow thrusts. I work round him with my tongue, letting his flavor and his earthy, feral aroma fill up my senses. To my joy, I find my own arousal burns again deep below, where I’m still pulsing from his touch. As I work up a rhythm, I feel an extra throb of excitement as his breathing speeds up.
I push forward, yawning my throat open to take him fully, letting my weight propel me forward. I feel a surge of triumph as the tendons stand out on his neck. It’s deeply moving to see this beautiful man react so intensely.
He growls low in his throat when I lunge forward to take his whole length, pausing to let the gag reflex ease off then lunging again and again.
With a sudden movement he grips the sides of my face to hold me still. I feel him quiver in my mouth then he gives a strangled cry and floods me with his warmth as he pumps into me over and over.
I relax around him, letting him soften slowly, careful not to make a sudden movement now that he’s spent and tender. He holds my head in place, and I keep very still, unwilling to break the spell as his breathing slowly steadies.
At last he pulls away then leans down, seeks my lips with his and holds me fast in a long, lingering kiss.
When he finally releases me, he caresses my hair and slides his hand along my face to cup my chin. “That was sensational. You’re sensational. Thank you, sub. You’ve earned yourself some fun. Let’s go party.”
* * * *
While I work miracles with a quick shower, a comb and my makeup bag, Cade strides about the suite, snarling into his phone and catching up on some of the business he’s neglected during the day.
I look on in awe, like a star-struck teenager. Does he have any idea how compelling he looks as he paces the room? I could watch him all night.