Three Dark Hours

by Maggie Carpenter

  “We are,” he said gently, “do you have the garage card? There’s nowhere to park out here.”

  “Oh, shoot, no it’s in my car,” she groaned. “It’s okay, I’ll just go on up. You don’t have to walk me.”

  “I don’t like that idea,” he remarked. “I’m an old-fashioned gentleman and you’re tired and you’ve had a bit to drink.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said sleepily. “Honest. Thank you, Brad, for so much.”

  “My pleasure, and don’t worry about being on time in the morning. Sleep in. Come in when you’re ready.”

  “That sounds good,” she smiled, but as she opened the car door she paused.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “My coat, gosh darn it, I left it at the restaurant. I knew I’d do that,” she exclaimed.

  “You go in, I’ll run back and get it and bring it up to you.”

  “But parking?” she groaned.

  “I’ll just put my flasher’s on,” he assured her. “Go on, I’ll be right back.”

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, then turned and headed into the building.

  Shaking his head Brad swung into a U-turn and headed to the restaurant. It wasn’t far; he’d be back in no time.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Stepping from the elevator Isobel fished in her bag for her keys. She was elated, but she was also exhausted, and with her head down and her focus on her search she didn’t see the handsome devil named Patrick Doyle leaning against her door.

  “Lose something?” he asked.

  Isobel stopped short, startled, then frowned at him.

  “Jeez, Patrick, you scared me. What are you doing here?”

  “So, you did have to go to dinner, but was it really work?” he grinned.

  “Of course I had to go to dinner, I told you that, and yes it was,” she replied tersely walking towards him.

  “Easy girl, don’t get your knickers in a twist. I thought you were playing with me.”

  “Playing with you?” she said impatiently. “Patrick, it’s late, I’m buzzed and I don’t feel very well, and I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Dropping her eyes back to her purse she found her key and slid it in the lock.

  “I’ve been here for a while, do you mind if I use your bathroom before I leave?” he asked.

  “Sure, fine,” she sighed opening the door, “but then you have to go, I’m totally wiped.”

  Swaggering in behind her Patrick admired her backside as the soft fabric of the dress whispered across her curves, and as she ushered him past her she pointed down the passageway.

  “I only have one bathroom and it’s off my bedroom down the hall,” she yawned.

  “You look great by the way,” he winked. “Thanks, I’ll be right back.”

  She watched him amble down the hallway, then making sure the door was slightly ajar to make it clear she expected him to leave, she wandered into the kitchen.

  Trying to clear her head she decided some milk and an aspirin would be a good idea. Retrieving a glass from the cabinet she placed it on the counter, and had just opened the refrigerator when he reappeared.

  “I still don’t know why you came here,” she pressed, “and how did you get my address?”

  “I honestly thought you wanted me to pursue you,” he said innocently, “and your address is in my file of course.”

  “Oh, right, well no, I didn’t. Sorry if I gave that impression,” she sighed, then looking up she caught the sexy sparkle of his compelling blue eyes.

  God, you are gorgeous. That chin, and your eyes, and those shoulders. It’s no wonder I let myself get carried away. You are so damn good looking.

  “What’s the exciting news you said you had to tell me in person?” he asked moving towards her. I know that look, you’re right back where you were, aren’t you Isobel? You want me, and here I am, at your service.

  “Oh, well I guess I may as well tell you,” she smiled, watching him as he drew closer. “That short story has landed me a book deal.”

  “What did you say?” he frowned.

  “Brader, Brader and Coombs, you know, Brader Publishing, they’ve contracted me for a novel, and Gail Bolen is now my agent. I’m going to be writing full time, isn’t that amazing?”

  The warm, engaging, smiling eyes suddenly turned cold, narrowing as they glinted down at her.

  “I don’t understand,” he growled. “How could you possibly have a book deal with a noted publisher? I’ve been writing for years and years and I still don’t have a decent publisher. You’re just a novice, a beginner, this is absolutely impossible.”

  “I, uh, they read it and liked it,” she stammered. “Patrick, what’s wrong with you?”

  “First you lead me on, then you send me some stupid email that’s totally written to tease me and get me to come over here, then you say you don’t want me, and now you tell me some bullshit about getting a publishing deal?”

  Pulling up outside the building Brad was lucky enough to find a parking space. Grabbing Isobel’s coat he was heading up the steps to the front doors when drops of rain began spilling around him. Breaking into a run he dashed inside, barely missing the cloudburst, and panting heavily he jumped into the elevators. When the doors opened he stepped into the corridor, but as he neared Isobel’s apartment he thought he heard loud voices in a heated argument.

  Doesn’t sound good, he thought.

  As he neared he was alarmed to see her door was ajar, and the yelling was coming from inside her unit. Hurrying forward he burst through the open door to find a tall, good-looking man standing in the middle of the room looking completely aghast, holding his hand over a bloody nose, and Isobel a few feet away with her hands on her hips, fury in her face.

  “Wh-what the h-hell h-have you done you st-tupid b-bitch?” the man stammered, glowering at her. “F-fuck, you broke my f-fuckin’ nose.”

  “What did you expect,” she blazed. “You think you can manhandle me? Now get out of here before I kick you in the nuts just for fun!”

  “I’m gonna kill you, you crazy cow!” Patrick snarled, lunging towards her.

  Driven by an adrenalin rush he’d never experienced Brad charged forward, throwing his arm around Patrick’s neck catching him completely off-guard, and literally dragging him backwards into the hallway he shoved him to the ground.

  “Don’t you dare come back here. You do and I’ll call the police and get a fucking restraining order against you,” he threatened. “I don’t know who are and I don’t give a shit, but believe me when I tell you I’ve got powerful friends, and you don’t want them coming after you. Are we clear?”

  “F-fine,” Patrick stammered. “She’s fuckin’ crazy anyway.”

  Darting back inside Brad slammed the door shut, made sure it was locked, then ran across to Isobel still standing in the middle of the room.

  “Are you okay?” he asked urgently. “What the hell happened.”

  “Brad! Where did you learn to do that? You were amazing,” she declared throwing her arms around him.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” he said trying to catch his breath as he held her tightly.

  “Three brothers on a farm? You’re kidding?” she joked, feeling much shakier than she was pretending to be, “but you, the way you charged in like that and threw him out.”

  “But you’re okay?” he repeated, “you’re sure?”

  “Uh-huh, just feel kind of trembly,” she admitted, “and strangely sober.”

  “Come on, let’s sit down,” he suggested leading her to the couch.

  Curling up in his lap, grateful he was there, she leaned into his body.

  “You’re shaking,” he said softly.

  “I’m fine,” she sighed, ‘kind of, but your heart is racing.”

  “Honestly, I’ve never done anything like that before,” he confessed. “I felt possessed.”

  “My hero,” she whispered.

  . “Can you tell me what happened?”
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  “That was Patrick, my teacher, in case you hadn’t guessed,” she began, her voice quivering in spite of her best efforts to keep it even. “He was here when I came off the elevator. When I told him about the book he went crazy, grabbed me, tried to push me on to the ground so I punched him.”

  “You are the most amazing girl,” he crooned.

  “Not really. My brothers used to shove me around all the time. I learned how to defend myself, that’s all,” she said modestly.

  “I repeat, you’re the most amazing girl,” he sighed.

  “Brad,” she murmured, “do you think you could stay here tonight? I’m fine, and I doubt he’ll come back, but-”

  “Of course,” he assured her. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. This couch seems comfortable enough.”

  “No,” she breathed sitting up and staring at him, “I mean, with me.”

  He heard the veiled invitation, saw the love twinkling in her eyes, and took a deep breath.

  “There’s something I need to tell you,” he said softly.

  “Tell me?”

  “I’ve been captivated by you since the day you walked into my office,” he confessed, his heart racing as he spoke the words.

  “You have?” she managed, her green eyes wide.

  “I have,” he nodded, “but it was impossible. I was your boss, I couldn’t act on my feelings, it would have been totally wrong.”

  “Brad-”

  “And that chapter I gave you to read,” he interrupted, “the truth is, Isobel, I wrote it.”

  “You did?” she squeaked.

  “I did,” he sighed, pulling her back against him. “I was at a loss. I didn’t know how to reach out to you.”

  “I wish my first spanking had been by you,” she lamented. “I was so stupid.”

  “Hey, none of that,” he said firmly. “Believe me, I understand how the craving can take hold, but I suspect now you’ve learned that spanking can be, should be, at least as far as I’m concerned, a deeply intimate experience.”

  “So intimate,” she breathed. “I feel so close to you. I didn’t feel that way with him, not at all, not even for a second.”

  “No more about that,” he said sternly, “and you’ve had enough for one day...more than enough. I’ll stay with you, but you’re going to go straight to sleep, no funny business.”

  A few minutes later, curled up between the sheets, her body soft and warm against him, the rain splashing against the window, Brad closed his eyes, sinking into the moment.

  “I want to court you,” he whispered.

  “You do?” she smiled sleepily.

  “Yes, I do. I told you, I’m an old-fashioned guy and it’s how I like to do things. I want to take you out, buy you dinner, see a movie, and get to know you, the real you, not the office you.”

  “I would love that, I want to know you too,” she breathed snuggling closer.

  “Next week we’ll go out,” he decreed tenderly, and let nature take its course, and yes I’m aching to make love to you right this minute, but I’m going to do this right.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  One Week Later

  The satin blindfold was soft against her eyes, but let in not a sliver of light. The cuffs that graced her wrists and ankles were lined with thick sheepskin, and when he’d raised her arms above her head and attached them to the thick chain hanging from a heavy beam on the ceiling, his whispered words had wrapped around her brain.

  “Breathe, Isobel. It’s not good to hold your breath.”

  Her pulse was racing, and as he smoothed his fingers down her naked spine she deeply inhaled, forcing herself to expel the air slowly from her lungs.

  “That’s my girl,” he purred, then gripping her hair he pulled her head gently to the side and began to devour her neck.

  Moaning happily she lost herself in his lips, and when his hands clutched her seat cheeks and squeezed, her moan became a strange, uttered mewl. She knew she was slippery with need, but he had yet to touch her there; running his fingers up and down the inside of her thighs he’d come teasingly close, but only teasingly close.

  “Please, Sir,” she bleated, “please will you touch my pussy?”

  “All in good time,” he softly promised.

  She ached to close her legs, to rub her thighs together, but the spreader bar refused even that modicum of relief.

  Traveling his lips from her neck to her clavicle he kissed and lightly nipped, then moving to her breasts he wrapped his lips around her stark nipples, drawing each into his mouth, sucking hungrily. His hands returned to her backside, and as his mouth luxuriated in her precious rose buds his palm began to spank.

  Finally living his long-held fantasy sent the blood to his head and surging through his cock, her moans of pleasure and small cries of pain swirling around him until his rampant member forced him to pause. Sighing heavily, he dusted her wanting cunt with his fingertips, and discovered her thick, syrupy need.

  “Please,” she begged, “more, please.”

  Pushing his fingers forward he explored her depths, and finding the magic spot deep inside her cavern he pressed lightly, eliciting a soulful groan.

  “Oh, my, God,” she whimpered trying to wriggle against him.

  During the many times she’d laid on her bed and pictured the delicious torment, she’d never imagined the realization of her dreams would prove so potent. Every feathered touch, every fervent kiss, every sound slap, reverberated through her body, his breathing, his mysterious scent, his whispered words, tumbling exquisitely around her, and as his fingers probed she began to gasp, almost overcome with the heady sensations.

  “Sir,” she whimpered, “I’m feeling weak.”

  Brad had set his timer for ten minutes, not wanting her arms to be stretched overhead for any longer, and glancing across he saw the time was almost up. Unsnapping her cuffs from the chain he moved behind her to massage her shoulders.

  “Lower your arms slowly,” he breathed in her ear, “so your muscles don’t cramp.”

  He could feel her weight as she leaned against him, and when her elbows reached her sides he quickly unshackled the spreader bar, and sweeping her up he carried her to his bed.

  “Thank you,” she murmured as he laid her down.

  Still wearing sweat pants he let them drop to the floor, then stretched out alongside her, and though they’d made love several times since the night of the dinner, laying naked beside her still felt wonderfully new.

  “How are you feeling?” he murmured.

  “Like I’m in heaven,” she purred.

  “I’ll let you rest for a moment, then I’m going to spank you, and do you know what comes after that?” he whispered salaciously.

  “No, Sir,” she breathed.

  “I’m going to explore you, and you’re going to surrender to me,” he muttered, “just the way you described in your story.”

  She immediately knew what he meant, and it brought the goosebumps springing to life.

  “I’m scared,” she managed. “It’s not something I ever thought would happen.”

  “All you have to do is trust me and relax,” he purred.

  Nestling against him she wrapped her brain around what was coming. He was going to penetrate her back door, and she could feel the heat travel across her face at just the thought.

  Knowing she was coming to terms with his promise he dropped his fingers against her sex, stirring her arousal.

  “Yes, Isobel,” he crooned rubbing her clit, “it’s going to be just as you wrote, and it will be frightening and thrilling and exciting, and ultimately it will make you climax very, very hard.”

  “It will,” she mewed.

  “Yes, it will,” he replied, “and there will come a day when you’ll be begging me to tantalize you back there.”

  He was rubbing her ardently, and though she was trying to focus on his words it was becoming increasingly difficult.

  “Sir, I can feel my orgasm,” she panted squirming against his fin
gers.

  “We can’t have that,” he mumbled, and moving his fingers he tickled them against her thighs.

  “Ooh, I was so close,” she whimpered.

  Lowering his head he pressed his lips to hers, engulfing her in a warm, fervent, passionate kiss, lingering and tonguing, fueling the embers of the fire in her belly.

  “Brad,” she breathed as he broke from her, “you make me feel so much.”

  “And you’re about to feel more,” he whispered, “a lot more.”

  Sitting up he rolled her onto her stomach, ordering her to place her elbows on the mattress and raise herself to her knees. A moment later she heard him leave the bed, and then his footsteps move across the room. As she waited for his return the anticipation of what was about to happen riddled her mind and sent shivers through her body.

  I feel so lewd in this position, but I guess it’s part of it, part of what I’m supposed to feel. How must I look?

  “Your bottom is so beautiful,” he murmured as though reading her mind.

  “I feel odd, waiting like this,” she mumbled.

  “I’m sure, but you’ll get used to it,” he assured her moving his hand across her cheeks. “I have a little something for you,” he continued, and stepping back he rested the wide, fat leather tongue of a riding crop against her upturned backside.

  “Legs wider,” he instructed.

  Her glistening, swollen pussy peeked back at him, and he ached to throw the crop aside and slide inside her succulent depths, but determined to continue he began to tap it across her already pink moons. The tongues sparked her skin, bringing up fresh, hot marks, and when he landed it against her pussy she squealed in surprise.

  “Your cunt needs this attention as well,” he declared, delivering a few more to underscore his point.

  “Sir,” she gasped, “it’s so intense.”

  Ignoring her exclamation he dropped the crop, climbed on the bed and circled her waist, landing his hand in a series of fast, sound swats.

  “I’m spanking you right now because you’re late finishing your first chapter,” he declared.

  Though lost in the tantalizing torture her mind flashed back to her dream.