by Flora Dain
Mel and Ben are relentlessly upbeat about their ruse, blithely unaware of the danger they’re in. “Lighten up. It’s just a bit of fun. And what were you doing down in the dungeon, Cade? I think we should be told.” Mel sounds playful.
I wince as I see Cade’s jaw stiffen.
“Me?” Cade directs a glint of fury at me as he turns his attention back to Mel, his expression cool. “Just checking on a few things. One of the whips was reported missing. We like to keep the equipment fully stocked and ready for use. I hear you’re a star pupil.”
Mel is instantly distracted and launches into a glowing account of her training. She’s proud of her success as a budding Domme. She glances pointedly at Ben a few times. He looks sheepish but pleased. Nera soon visibly relaxes and even joins in with a few sharp comments of her own.
Cade’s eyes lock on me. “There, Miss Vale, see what you’re missing? You should have joined in. Why not ask Mel here for some instruction? I gather she’s quite proficient.” His sarcastic tone could slice lemons.
“But hey, she’s been busy too, by the look of it.” Mel turns to me with a grin. “Why the slave cuffs, Tunis? Suddenly got a taste for the dark side?”
The cuffs. I’ve forgotten all about them. My stomach churns. With an effort, I match her playful smile. “They were in my dressing room. Now I can’t get them off. Maybe I should ask a policeman.” As a joke it’s pretty feeble, but it snaps the tension. Ben laughs out loud and even Nera smiles.
Within minutes, the room empties and I’m alone with Cade.
This is not over yet, not by a long way.
“You knew about this?” His tone is quiet, heavy with menace.
My cheeks burn as the air between us turns to ice. “No. I told you.”
“I find that hard to believe. Within minutes of Macallan telling you they’re up to something, you jump into Garth Delaney’s car and make a getaway. Looks to me like you jumped ship.”
“I can’t help how it looks. You know why I left. You were there.”
“All I know is your relative had some sort of attack and the next morning she was fine. So I’ll ask you again, did you know what they were going to do?”
“No. Mel never got a chance to explain. I’d no idea it would be a stunt like this. If so, I’d have stopped it—or at least tried to.”
He watches me for a moment then sighs. “Okay. But if something like this happens again, I’m pulling the plug.”
I let out a long breath. “Thank you.” I turn away and make for the door.
“Where are you going?” His tone is low, barely a murmur. I pull up short and tense all over.
A tremor runs through me. “Down to the bar to talk to the others. Why?”
All at once he’s behind me. I feel his breath on my neck. He reaches around me, his face close to my cheek, deliberately pushes the door shut then turns the key in the lock.
Slowly he scoops the hair away from my neck and kisses me just under the ear, his mouth hotter this time. “Not so fast. You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here. And you’re going to bend over that desk.” Slowly he turns me round to face him. “You defied me, Tunis. That was a clear breach of the rules. So now you’ll get punished.”
Heat burns deep inside me as my mouth goes dry. “Why? Why are you doing this?”
“Because you deserve it. And because I feel like it.”
He captures my mouth, his tongue invading my lips in a thrilling surge, eager and hungry. I press against him, my will dissolving as his erection presses into my belly, hot and painfully hard through the thin silk of my tight sheath dress.
And all at once I feel like it too. We were torn away from each other mid-session, and now I realize how intense these sessions have become. We’d hardly started but the heat of it still burns deep inside both of us.
There’s only one way to relieve it.
This is less a punishment—more a gut-wrenching need.
We’ve been doing this just six days. In fact, it’s barely a week since we met.
I can hardly believe it.
I mew deep in my throat as he presses deliberately against me. He knows what I want. I deliberately reach down and spread my hand wide to fondle the hard bulk swelling in his fly, stroking, pressing as I moan into his kiss, imploring him to free himself.
I want him. Every time I see him I want to feel his warm hands on my backside, his hard, silky heat thrusting into my belly—but now I’m desperate. I want to feel him too—right here, right now—and there’s no better place for it than over his desk.
He growls low in his throat in answer and he’s clawing at my gown, pulling it up, sliding it higher and higher up my thighs until it sits around my waist in a tight ring of rumpled silk. Below it I’m naked and shamefully exposed, my slit pooling with moisture, my folds already pulsing with lust, aching and ready for him.
His hands search between my legs, his fingers questing deep into my swollen, lustful creases. His lips stretch against mine in a sardonic smile as I moan into his kiss, my sex throbbing instantly at his expert touch. The faint growl deep in his throat tells me he knows I’m ready and that I want this, badly.
“Over the desk. Now.”
Swiftly he gets me into position, making me reach out sideways across the desk. I cling on to the beaded mahogany edges with my fingertips. With my cheek pressed hard against the leather top, I peer into the depths of the heavy antique chair he was sitting in. It smells of leather and spice and warm, disturbing male.
The aroma sends another pulse to my groin as he starts to massage my bare skin, firm and caressing, preparing me for what’s to come.
His voice is low and deadly. “This is a punishment. It will hurt. There’s no soundproofing in here so you’ll have to keep quiet. If you cry out, I’ll give you extra.”
At that moment the massage stops and I feel a thunderous slap on my bottom. I jerk painfully against the desk, and it stings hard.
I need this…
I grit my teeth and screw up my eyes in an effort not to cry out but the blows fall so hard and fast it’s almost impossible. After a few minutes there’s a pause, and he reaches round the desk to open one of the drawers.
What I see lying there makes me gasp. As he lifts it out, I know the worst is still to come. His hand brushes past my head, the object traveling close to my face. I smell new leather and recognize the strong, braided curve of a coiled belt.
The deep throb between my legs grows worse. Each blow of his hands jolts me against the polished mahogany, firing extra spurts of heat into my mounting climax. As the sting of the blows fades to a hot glow, he gets into position and my arousal flares to white heat.
Just one or two blows should do it… Am I really looking forward to this?
“Now the belt. Hold still.”
I screw my eyes tight shut and wait, holding my breath. Yes, yes, please…
Without warning the strap lands across the very top edge of my thighs, where they’re the most sensitive. I shriek, and it lands again.
No, this is wrong… “No, stop, stop. Mercy.”
I gasp for breath as the safeword explodes from my lips. I lie across the desk, panting as the room starts to spin.
“What?”
I hear the strap clatter to the floor. I stand up stiffly, my lower regions on fire. I turn to face him, pulling awkwardly at the hem of my dress. “You heard. This feels wrong—different. You’re angry.”
He takes a step forward, his expression curiously rapt, a new gleam in his eyes. “You mean you can tell? Well, hallelujah.”
With a lithe movement he leans over and scoops up the strap, coiling it expertly in his long fingers and dropping it back into the drawer, his breathing still uneven. “This calls for a celebration. How about that drink?”
* * * *
The ballroom’s quiet. The team has vanished and most of the guests seem to be out in the grounds where the pool’s back in use and a live rock band is echoing through the soft summer nigh
t.
I glance round to check that there’s no one close enough to hear us. “Why did you lose your temper?”
I feel rumpled and shaky and deeply resentful that Cade can lean casually on a bar stool and look so elegant, so in control.
He signals to the barman. “Two Sidecars.”
The drinks arrive quickly, a rich tawny color, smelling of spirits. He passes me one.
I look at it doubtfully. “What’s in it?” I’ve never got the hang of cocktails.
“It’s like a daiquiri, but with brandy.”
As he reaches for his drink I lay a hand on his wrist. “Cade?”
He glances up. Something in my face catches his attention. “What?”
I lick my lips. “I’m causing you problems?”
His nostrils flare. “You are the problem, damn it.”
He makes for his glass again but I grip his wrist harder. After a second I let one finger move gently on the back of his hand. He looks up with a frown.
I hold his gaze and lick my lips. “I thought you people never drank before a—scene?” I hold my breath as I keep my hand in place, my finger still moving. I see him swallow.
Between us time seems to stand still.
His gaze locked on mine, he signals the barman. “I changed my mind. Bring me two mineral waters. Sparkling. Ice. Twist of lime.” He sounds husky.
I slide my hand discreetly away so the barman won’t see but Cade captures it out of sight. He keeps his eyes locked on mine.
“You sure about this?” Below the rail his grip on my hand tightens. ”You mean you want to…?”
I nod. As the drinks arrive he passes me one. Something flickers in his eyes. Triumph? Relief?
He waits for the barman to move away then murmurs low. “Look, Tunis, I’m running a tight operation here. I can’t have you and your team going off at tangents.”
I take a long sip, barely listening. I’ve just invited him to finish what he started. The gleam in his eyes tells me he’s back on track while I’m in free fall.
But I’ve made my decision. This is what he likes. Stay with it. And for once I’ve called the shots. His shots, granted, but still… One small step.
So now I’m a little bit in control too. “That’s no reason to lose your temper. Maybe you should loosen up a little.”
He downs his drink and spreads his hands on the counter. “Okay. I’m sorry it was too hard. I forget you’re new to this. If you must know, I was afraid. You scared the living shit out of me, going off like that.”
Cade Fitzlean afraid? I take a gulp of my drink.
“And now, if you’ll drink up, we have to get back upstairs.” He smiles slowly, his hand stealing round to my back and slipping downward. I wince as he gives my left buttock a squeeze, and his smile fades. “Lively down there? Serve you right. You’re still in session. We’ll go back up now and finish it.”
As if in a dream, I follow him into the elevator and feel his arms close around me. His knee presses between my legs as the doors slide shut.
He kisses me hard, ramming my head back against the wall and releases my lips only when it arrives at our floor with a loud ping. He pulls me out with him, striding along with his hand gripping mine in an iron clasp. He wrenches open the door and pushes me inside, slamming it shut behind him.
“Did anybody ever tell you”—he advances slowly, his eyes raking over me—“just how sexy you look in that dress?” He reaches around me with a swift lunge and jerks down the top half of the zipper, baring my breasts and trapping my upper arms as he peels it down toward my waist.
He stoops and fastens his mouth on first one breast then the other, hauling at my nipples with his mouth, sending the blood rushing to my head. “And did anybody ever tell you”—his murmur reaches me as his lips move against my breast, his low growl sending a tremor through me—“how damn sexy you look without it?”
With a violent jolt he jerks the zipper all the way down and peels off the dress in a single, flowing movement. I sigh with pleasure as he runs his hands over my flanks, catching my breath when he fondles my tender backside.
“Turn around. I want to see.” He swivels me round by the shoulders and in the mirrored wall opposite I see the trace of his hands on my punished rear glow in crimson, glowing patches, the marks on my thighs two angry red stripes. He caresses them gently, running his finger along the lines, making me shiver.
The sight of them is strangely arousing, glowing against my skin, cruel reminders of a contact so fierce it left stains but so violently arousing I’m still weak from the force of it.
He buries his face in the dip where my neck meets my shoulder. “Tunis, Tunis… I want to fuck. You?”
“Mm.” Too overcome to speak, I breathe against his ear, feeling his erection spring free as he swiftly unfastens his trousers.
Just then his phone signals. He snatches it out of his pocket and glances at it with a frown. “Shit. That call from Japan. Forgive me, Tunis, I have to take this. Back in five.”
Chapter Sixteen
I curl up on the quilt as five minutes drag by then another five. Still no sign of Cade. I sigh. It’s too late to call home.
I use the time to freshen up, check my makeup and slip into a thin satin robe.
Maybe the dungeon will be free. Is that what he wants? I shiver, part scared, part thrilled at the thought of what he might do.
Or maybe we’ll just make love…
His call’s taking an age. Or is it just me? I’m getting impatient. Needy. Starting to resent the many other claims on his time.
At last I lean back on the pillows with a sigh and relax. He has a lot of demands on his time this week. I’m lucky he’s given me so much of it. Business has to come first. That’s how he makes money.
All at once the door crashes open. He’s standing in the doorway glaring at me.
I sit up, rigid with alarm.
He’s whey-faced, his hair tousled like he’s repeatedly run his hands through it. For a second I wonder if he’s been drinking.
“Where are they?”
I spring off the bed as he advances slowly into the room, his eyes burning into mine. This time there’s no warmth. His look could snap steel.
“Who?”
“Don’t play with me. So this was the point of the little diversion, was it?”
I clutch my satin robe together. Faced with his fury, it’s a flimsy protection. “Cade, stop this. What’s the matter?”
For a long moment he looks at me then closes his eyes briefly and takes a deep breath. “Okay, we’ll take it slow.”
I decide to start with what I know. “There was a problem with the call from Japan?”
“What call? There was no call.” His eyes bore into mine. “Sonja’s message said she’d set one up but the call was a hoax, and now she’s disappeared. And Alford tells me your boyfriend’s missing too. We think he’s got her. Look at this.”
He flicks a remote at the wide TV screen in his sitting room and scrolls through some channels until the screen becomes grainy. We’re looking at security footage from a camera downstairs. There are various random shots of guests in corridors, in the dining room and the grounds.
He pauses the film to enlarge a frame.
“This is from the past three days.” His voice is low, clipped, his profile rigid.
The image is fuzzy but I make out Sonja and Jake at the end of a corridor. They seem to be arguing. He lunges at her, and she darts out of sight. He appears to follow.
“There’s more.” He scrolls through more film and it pauses again. This time, Sonja’s walking slowly through the entrance hall. Jake’s following, his expression set, and he appears to call after her. She glances back over her shoulder then hurries out of shot. She looks scared.
In another shot they’re together, but all at once he snatches at her arm and she tries to break free.
I frown. “But you’ve kept Sonja pretty busy lately. Maybe she was just in a hurry. There were other people around. T
here could be any number of reasons—”
“Always trying to defend him. What is it between you?” His tone is deliberately sarcastic, mimicking me asking him about Nera.
“Just because you dislike him doesn’t make him a psycho—or a kidnapper. Maybe it was all about his camera.”
He gives me a strange look. “Then we found these in his room.”
He takes an envelope from his jacket and tips the contents onto the bed.
It’s a set of contact strips of tiny black and white film. I peer at the images, trying to make sense of them. They look like shots of a glamour model, but slowly I realize they’re all of Sonja. In some, she’s in flimsy lingerie—in others she’s nude. She looks natural, happy, meltingly pretty—and entirely unaware she’s being watched.
Jake—a voyeur? I look up, appalled and speechless.
“He must have used a long lens. And he’s doing it to get back at me.” He gives me a simmering look. “Mason told me you were whispering in the car on the way to the christening. Simmons was saying he wanted his own back. What do you know about all this, Tunis?”
“Nothing. Truly. And I can’t believe…” I stop mid-flow as I recall his exact words.
I’ll get my own back someday. Don’t you worry…
My stomach turns to ice. Back then I thought he was joking. Now the photos take on a new and terrifying significance. I stare at them, horrified. “But I’ve known him for years. He’d never harm anyone…”
How sure am I? He has mood swings. He gets fixated on things. For years I’ve put it down to his talent. Could it hint at something more sinister?
Is it this place? Beat Hall’s affecting all of us. I should know. My arrangement with Cade is only days old and it’s taking over my life. When he’s in a room, I can hardly take my eyes off him.
Ben and Mel are changing fast—and becoming deeply involved. But we’ve all forgotten about Jake. Creative, moody—maybe it affects him too.
“What about Sonja? Did you pick up any clues from her? She’s been looking very run-down the last day or so.”
“Has she?” Cade’s cramming shaving things and a couple of shirts into a small case. He snaps it shut and pauses as he catches my eye. “How should I know? I’m her employer, not her doctor. Maybe it’s her period.”