by Flora Dain
And, surprisingly, I feel wonderful. My backside’s tender, but I’m ready for anything. And I’m hungry.
As he finishes a call, I catch his eye. “Are we eating soon? I’m famished.”
He eyes me from across the room, his gaze dark. “So you have other appetites. I must take care to satisfy them. Yes, we’ll eat now, but not here.”
I try to look unconcerned as we make our way down through the hotel to the main entrance. To my surprise he picks up some keys from the blushing receptionist at the main desk and leads me straight out to the front drive where a gleaming sports car is waiting.
The V-8 engine fires with a powerful, throaty roar and we pull away, heading into the shadows of the countryside and the scents and the warm, moist air of a lovely summer night.
“Where are we going?”
He flicks a button on the dashboard and I hear the plaintive tone of a solo jazz trumpet. It reminds me of empty New York streets in old black and white movies.
“To a restaurant I know. It’s not far. Art Pepper suit you?”
“Mm, lovely. Why did you send Sonja back with Jake? Won’t people talk?”
“About them? I doubt it.”
“I meant about us.” My voice is low.
“I said you were staying on with the Martins and I had business in Bristol. They don’t know we’re together. Or expect us back for a while.”
As usual, he’s thought of everything. In the soft glow from the dashboard, his classical features form a perfect profile.
I watch him, mesmerized. “You always have to be in control?”
He darts me a glance. “I like being in control. I feel safer that way.”
Safer? How odd. I frown. “Is that why you like to beat women?”
His smile vanishes. “I don’t beat women—not in that sense. Men who beat women have lost control, in my opinion. What I do is always consensual. I like it. They want it.” In the faint light I see his lip curl. “You want it. That’s why we’re here.”
“You’re hedging. I’m talking about control. Why is it okay for Sonja to be alone with Jake and not me?”
The car screeches to a halt, and he turns to face me, eyes blazing. “They’re with my driver, who also happens to be ex-army and one of my bodyguards. I told him to keep an eye on them. And I might remind you what Simmons nearly did to you on that footbridge. And he’s still hot for you. I can tell.”
His mood swing is startling. I fight to steady my breath, still uneven after the shock of the sudden halt. “But that’s what I mean, Cade. With respect, my relationship with Jake is none of your business. We’re old friends, end of story. And I can take care of myself.”
His contented mood has vanished. “That I doubt. While you’re in my care, I mean to look after you. So stay away from him. You could have been killed.”
Angrily he jabs at the ignition, and we start off again. This time we drive in silence.
* * * *
We eat in a small restaurant over a quiet and very traditional country pub. The food is delicious—delicate scallops with fresh country herbs, roast fowl with new, crisp vegetables and a light, summery lemon tart. The wine is surprisingly good and comes in a dust-covered bottle with the compliments of the house.
Cade seems to be well known here, and the landlord and his wife—who is also the cook—both come to our table to greet us at the end of our meal.
I congratulate them on the food, and I’m promised a recipe to take away for the delicious lemon tart.
Luckily Cade seems to mellow with the food, and soon chats lightly about his big breaks in the entertainment business and his plans for the future. As we wave goodbye to our hosts and set off once again into the darkness, he rests a hand on my thigh and strokes gently, his fingers warm and meaningful. “Enjoy your meal?”
I run my fingers lightly over the back of his hand and his fingers move higher. “Among other things, yes. Thank you. It was delicious. How do you know so many people around here?”
I lean back in my seat and open my legs a little, inviting his insistent hand to move up a little farther.
I see him grin.
“We lived around here, for a short while, anyway. My father bought Beat Hall long before we moved in.”
I see a sudden image of a younger Cade, the sulky teenager who penned his hit record after a chemistry exam, being a boy, exploring the grounds, making friends in pubs and climbing trees.
It’s an intriguing picture.
Excitement builds as we drive through the imposing gateway to the Beat Hall Estate. But instead of driving up to the main house, we veer off to the left.
Soon we’re driving along an unfamiliar narrow track lined with trees. I glance across at him, puzzled. “Where are we going? Do you have a favorite spot for making out, too?”
He looks at me and grins. “Something like that. Not that I’ve ever made out in it. I’ve never brought anybody else here before. But I thought you might like to see it. It’s pretty at night.”
He pulls off the narrow lane into a graveled space. In the headlights I can just make out a curved brick wall, with an elaborate doorway at the top of some wide stone steps. As he switches off the lights, I peer upward as a shaft of moonlight reveals a tall tower. I can just see its top, a sharp outline against the stars.
“This is the lookout tower. The third duke built it as a beacon during the Napoleonic wars when there was a threat of invasion. Spectacular views, especially at night. Come on. A climb will do you good.”
It’s a long way up. The steps curve upward in a seemingly endless spiral. Cade leads the way, apparently unfazed by the climb.
When we finally reach the top, I’m panting a little, my legs aching, but my breath soon steadies as I gaze out of the vast picture windows.
All around us the views over the park stretch away. Moonlight glances over the treetops, turning them into a billowing silver ocean. Far away, the towers of Beat Hall are etched against the deep midnight blue of the sky, its windows sparkling through the leaves like a magical palace.
In the distance a slim silver line marks the horizon.
“Is that the sea?”
“Yep. You can just see it from here on a clear night.” He’s close behind me, his voice oddly husky in the stillness.
“Why did you bring me here?”
His lips touch my shoulder with a whisper-light kiss. “I wanted you to see it. I used to come here when I was a boy—when times got tough.”
I stiffen. “Was that often? After the crash?” I hold my breath. Is this the key to the mystery of who he is?
“Not often. But it got to me sometimes. Anyway, when you’re growing up times are always tough at some point. I didn’t do so badly.”
Did it make him like he is? I must go carefully here, but I’m desperate to know. “Did… Did what happened to you turn you on to…BDSM?”
“Not especially. I was very happy on the whole. You don’t have to be damaged to like BDSM. I just like it. I’ve always liked it. I like what it does, and I like where it takes you. I don’t like women scared. I like them hungry. When I do it well, that’s what happens.”
He touches my face with his fingertip. “I want to see you like that—very much.”
He kisses the other shoulder then turns me round to face him. In the moonlight his eyes glitter strangely, but his face is partly in shadow. “I suppose we’ve got to the point where we might as well face it. This is turning into something more than sub training, don’t you think?”
For a long moment the world stands still, then I draw in a cautious breath. “Is it?”
His eyes glitter. “I think so, yes. But we’ll hold the violins for a while. I’m on a mission here. I want to show you what BDSM’s all about. It’s a lot more than whipping the shit out of people. I want to show you what it does and why. And it’ll take me more than a few days. And since you asked, there’s another reason I brought you here tonight.”
I gaze at him, spellbound. This feels unreal
, like I’m in some fairy tale at the top of a magical tower where handsome princes say strange and wonderful things to princesses. “There is?”
He kisses me gently, his mouth touching mine with the lightest brush of his lips. “Yes. I brought you here because this is where I want to fuck you for the first time.” He kisses me again. “But only if you want me to. And only if you promise we’ll do it again—often.”
Happiness flowers deep inside me. It comes with a shaft of something else, something even stronger but dark and urgent. It sends flames roaring through me, wetness pooling in the throbbing dip deep between my legs—lust.
I whisper against his neck, thrilling to the spicy, feral scent of his skin, the coiled power in his arms and the warm glow down near his hips. “Okay. I promise.”
Chapter Nine
My happiness is brief. As Cade relaxes his arms, I see we’re in an eight-sided space right at the top of the tower. It has huge windows with wide, cushioned seats underneath and spectacular views. Moonlight floods in, filling the space with silver light.
I stiffen. This is my least favorite kind of place.
He’s staring down at me anxiously. “What’s the matter? Too extreme for you?”
His jaw tenses, like my response is vital.
This really matters to him. I swallow, but I take the plunge. “I’m fine.”
His fleeting smile expresses joy for a split second. With a swift movement, he unzips my dress and my fear melts in the heat of his look as I let the bright silk peel away. He fingers the plunge of my bra with a burning finger then runs his hands lightly down my flanks, lingering on the lace edge of my panties.
His touch is exquisite, his focus absolute.
“I could eat you whole. You’re so beautiful…” He finds my mouth and finishes the thought with his tongue. Heat spirals through me as I lean into him, fired by the urgency of his hot, hungry mouth as the burning pressure glowing between our hips warns me of an invasion to come.
All at once I’m pinned beneath him along one of the seats, impaled on his hungry tongue while he tears at his clothes.
With a grunt he kicks them off then breaks the kiss to lean over in a lithe, athletic arc to search his trousers for a foil packet.
“Wait. Let me.” I snatch it out of his hand, wriggle out from underneath him and leap to my feet. I wave it aloft, sashaying in the moonlight then I begin a slow dance, teasing and swaying my hips.
He leans back to watch, his gaze liquid heat as my bra straps slip slowly off one shoulder then the other. I turn and sway my rear seductively close to his face as I peel away my panties.
They get part-way down my thighs with my thumbs hooked in the lace before he gives a low growl and seizes me by the hips.
“Hey, you’re cheating,” I gasp. “You’re not supposed to touch the stripper.”
“I’ll eat her then.” His laugh is somewhere between a purr and a growl as his mouth covers me with hungry kisses, first one side then the other.
I lean into his grasp as his hot mouth works its magic, and I start to burn. After a few, luscious moments, I turn round and stoop to lick the head of his erection, jutting between us, glossy in the moonlight. With soft caresses I steady its angle, thrilling to its size and its silky heat.
I lick gently along the sides to make it moist, so the soft skin inside my lips will slide easily along its length then take it fully in my mouth. Meanwhile I tear open the packet and take out the small, rolled contents.
He groans as I pull away and deftly roll it into place, but I’ve woken a sleeping tiger. With a swift movement, he stands up and takes charge, spinning me round and leaning into my back, his erection jutting painfully against my tender bottom as he steadies me against him.
“You’re sensational. Bend over.”
He leans forward and I feel his chest hair rasp against my back as he gently nips the nape of my neck with his teeth. His breathing is ragged now like he’s running a race and his voice purrs through me, deep and throaty.
“Put your feet apart. Wider. Keep your legs straight. Touch the floor to balance.”
He sounds husky, impatient. I bend right over and steady myself on the floor with my fingertips, making a graceful arch, and with a lurch, he slams into me. I cry out at the suddenness of it then feel his hands slide over my body, one rolling and kneading my breasts and the other reaching between my legs, penetrating deep into my eager, swollen folds, now stretched tightly around him. He begins to move, gently at first then harder, each thrust tearing a grunt of pleasure from him that echoes through me, making my tense muscles quiver as I strain to balance and haul him in at the same time.
He feels wonderful, filling me deeply, his heat glowing inside me, his rhythm matching my heartbeat with utter precision, his own need for me so great I feel it burn through the condom. I’ve wanted this all evening, all day.
All week.
Maybe all year.
Soon my climax begins to build but to my amazement he slows, pulls me back on top of him as he collapses back onto one of the benches then eases me off him, holding me aloft with both hands.
“Turn over. We’ll finish together. I want to kiss you while I do this.”
He sounds harsh but as I sweep my leg high over him to shift position, he smiles with pure pleasure, the moonlight glinting on his regular teeth, and rolls me over so he’s once more on top.
“Are you okay with this?”
I nod, breathless, marveling that he can sound so calm at such a charged moment. “You want a critique?”
My climax has been building, the pressure mounting, and now with all the upheaval of shifting position, I’m sure I’ll explode. But this place is important to him and if I’m the first woman he’s brought here, then this moment is important to me too. I want to make this special for him.
I look deep into his eyes, searching anxiously for clues to his progress so I can pace myself to match his thrusts, using every fiber of my technique to fend off my pleasure to coincide with his. He seems to know, maybe from the way my body reacts so sensitively to his every move.
In the moonlight I see a change in his eyes, a new intensity, an unexpected tenderness as he thrusts faster. My muscles contract round him as our bodies perform their own pas de deux and he fastens his mouth on mine, his tongue filling me as well. He thrusts again and again, each stroke a deep, hot pleasure until at last I can hold off no longer and my orgasm explodes inside me. My spasms rock through me and as I convulse around him, he jolts in my arms and erupts in his own.
He keeps his mouth locked on mine, loosening his kiss only to brush his lips softly against my mouth, the light, sensuous contact adding layers of sweetness to the waves of honeyed content that wash over me as I yield to his weight and his power.
At last he buries his head in my neck and heaves a long, contented sigh. “Hey, that was some critique—pretty impressive.”
I smile against his ear and nibble at his earlobe with my teeth. “For a first fuck, that was pretty impressive too. You’ve set yourself a high standard. Sir.”
* * * *
It’s nearly dawn when the powerful sports car purrs to a halt outside the massive entrance to Beat Hall. Despite the late hour, a footman instantly appears, opens the passenger door for me and accepts the keys from Cade.
In the elevator Cade holds me close. I lean against him, sleepy and sated, while he strokes my hair, his protective arm around my bare shoulders warm and comforting against the dawn chill we brought in with us from the park.
As we step out of the elevator into the hallway to our rooms, his phone buzzes. He glances at it idly then holds it to his ear. “Fitzlean.”
We’re almost inside the room. I can see my bed, invitingly made up, the smooth sheet folded back, waiting for my weary limbs to sink into it. It seems a long time since I slept.
His grip on my waist tightens, holding me fast, but he seems to have forgotten I’m here. Along my side I feel him tense as he listens in silence then slips the phone
into his pocket.
When he looks at me, I see a stranger. My lover has disappeared and the magical tower is fading fast.
“What paperwork did you sign before coming here?”
I stare, my sluggish brain groping at his meaning. “Paperwork? I’ve no idea. There was so much of it. Why?”
There was a sheaf of forms to sign before we came. Non-disclosure agreements to protect the reputations of all the celebrities we’re going to meet, consent forms and disclaimers, a simple but very scary dungeon contract. That was before the extremely thorough medical checks, declarations and insurance guarantees.
He’s frowning. “The lawyers think there’s a problem with the signatures from your team. Who was in charge of all that? You or your lawyers?”
I feel a twinge of alarm. “Ben would know. You’ll have to ask him.”
His eyes hold mine for a long moment, his glint of icy appraisal sweeping over me like cold steel. When he speaks, his voice is low and measured. “There are a great many famous people here. They’re taking part in some very unusual activities. That’s why we’ve gone to so much trouble to make this place secure and get signatures on everything. We can’t afford any slip-ups.”
A chill runs through me. Blackmailers, paparazzi, psychos—they’d all pay handsomely for a shot of just one of the film stars or celebrities sampling a taste of the whip. A lot of careers and reputations are at risk here, including mine. And so is our film and maybe even our future careers, if we’ve somehow fallen foul of his tight security arrangements.
I swallow. “Let me talk to the others before you do anything. Have you told them about this yet?”
“I’m starting with you.” He glances at his watch. “They won’t be up yet. Find them at breakfast and make a subtle enquiry. I want to know who gathered in the final signatures and if it was one of you. If so, we might be able to sort this out quietly. If not, I’ll have to make you all sign afresh—or even expel the whole lot of you.”