...he groaned, rubbing vigorously as he felt the build up of his orgasm...
...she lowered herself on to him, her hot, wet, needy depths engulfing him. Grabbing her plump perfect seat cheeks with his hands he squeezed, raising his pelvis, thrusting into her, spanking her with every thrust...
...“Simon...”
...he could imagine the soft, sensuous crooning of her voice as he stroked himself, could feel her ample bottom in his hands, her breasts were moving as she rode him...
...the orgasm rocketed through his cock and burst free, his hot cum slipping across his hand...
...and it was over.
Laying in the still quiet of the night, he let himself drift for a moment, the awareness that she was a mere thirty-second walk away enveloping him like a warm breeze. As the slight doze passed, he stood up and padded to the bathroom to wash up, but he did not return to his bed. Walking softly out of the room and through the lounge he stopped outside her door. There was no sound from within, and he fought the temptation to peer inside, just to view her sleeping.
Sleeping she was, but Belle was also dreaming. Simon was holding her, whispering her name in her ear, telling her she was a divine creature, smart and lovely, and he was going to take her to the four corners of the world; he would spank her while she looked out over the Seine from a patio attached to a luxurious hotel room, and tie her up in a private jet at 35,000 feet.
When her eyes fluttered open in the morning, the visions alive in her head, she glanced around the beautifully appointed bedroom in which she had spent the night. He had rescued her from the clutches of the evil Sean, brought her back to the hotel and totally taken care of her. Was it just the actions of a British gentleman? A boss who cared for those for whom he felt responsible? There was something in his voice when he had held her in the back of the car, something shining from the look in his bright blue eyes, that told her it was more than that. Much more, or had she just imagined it?
No–there’s something there. I know it, she thought. I can feel it.
She stretched and yawned and glanced at the clock.
8:46! Heavens. What time did I go to bed?
She sat up, rubbing her eyes, still feeling a bit groggy, then recalled the kind, fatherly doctor giving her a pill.
“Lord,” she mumbled. “That must have been some pill.”
There was a bottle of water on the nightstand and she took several gulps, then wandered into the bathroom to shower.
Simon had been up for some time, had already consumed a full breakfast and was in the middle of business when he heard the sound of Belle’s shower. He immediately ordered room-service for the second time that morning, making sure they delivered everything from simple granola to scrambled eggs. The waiter rolled in the trolley just as Belle emerged from her room.
“Wow, that smells amazing!” she exclaimed. “I’m famished.”
“How do you feel?” he asked, delighted that she looked so refreshed.
“Fine–great,” she replied. “Thank you for the clothes.”
She had found the brushed cotton beige skirt and pink cashmere sweater hanging in the closet, along with some other items of clothing.
“You’re very welcome,” he answered smiling.
“How did you guess my size?”
“It’s not too difficult. I’m good at things like that,” he grinned. “Come and have some breakfast.”
Sitting down she didn’t know what to eat first, and as Simon watched her devour a plate of scrambled eggs, tomatoes and toast, he decided to join her, selecting a hearty looking muffin and pouring himself some coffee.
“Belle–you look absolutely marvelous. You don’t feel unwell?” he asked, somewhat surprised at her fast recovery.
“No, I feel absolutely fine,” she smiled, then felt herself blush as she relived the images in her dream.
“You were very shaken up,” he replied. “I’m pleased you slept so well.”
“You have no idea how well,” she smiled, the words spilling from her lips.
“Is that so? Do tell.”
There was an impishness in her voice, and her face was sporting her familiar rose flush.
“Nothing, really. Just, I think that was a magic pill the doctor gave me,” she answered hastily, feeling the redness in her cheeks grow even redder, wishing she didn’t have the occasional habit of speaking before thinking.
“By the way, I have a call into the manager at Sean’s office,” he announced, deciding to let her off the hook. “Obviously they’re going to have to provide another agent to finish the sale of the house.”
“Still can’t believe just how awful Sean turned out to be,” she commented, her voice dropping. “I’ve heard rumors but, jeez...”
“Nasty piece of work,” Simon agreed, “but there’s something else I want to talk to you about, if you’re feeling up to it.”
“Sure,” Belle answered, feeling a little flip in her stomach. “What’s that?”
“When you’ve finished your breakfast I want to talk about us.”
Belle flashed her eyes up.
“I’m fine to finish the sale,” she said quickly.
“Oh–no doubt. When I say us, I mean, you and me, personally. Nothing to do with business.”
He was staring at her intently, his gaze unwavering, direct and focused.
“Us?” she squeaked, slowly lowering her fork.
“Yes. Us. When you’ve finished eating.”
How the hell can I eat after you’ve said something like that? she asked, silently, looking back at him.
“I have to go and sign some papers for Cecil. It will take me about ten minutes, so you enjoy the rest of your breakfast and I’ll be back soon,” he declared, rising from the table.
Stunned, Belle watched him turn and walk to the door. Unable to contain herself she abruptly stood up.
“Hold on!” she blurted out.
“I beg your pardon,” he frowned, turning to face her.
“You can’t just make a grandiose statement like that–we’re going to talk about us personally–and leave. How can I possibly eat anything now?”
Simon broke into a broad grin. Belle’s face was bright red, her eyes blazing. “I see,” he said calmly. “So you believe there is an us?”
“I–uh–well–clearly you do,” she exclaimed, feeling oddly defensive.
Simon stepped forward and poured himself a fresh cup of coffee.
“I think I asked you a question. Would you please be so good as to answer it for me? Do you believe there is an us?”
“No wonder you’re so successful,” she declared. “Look how cleverly you maneuvered this conversation.”
“Um–still not an answer,” he said, lifting his cup and taking it to the sofa. “If you’re finished with your breakfast, why don’t you come over here and join me?”
A little unsteady, but excited and hopeful, Belle started towards him, and chose to sit on the adjacent chair rather than next to him. A safe distance, she decided, though she wasn’t sure why she needed it.
“Comfortable?” he asked, watching her sink into the overstuffed engulfing cushions.
“Quite,” she replied.
“Good. Now, again, and this time I expect an answer. Do you think there an us?”
“You’re the one who brought it up,” she stated, beginning to feel a little out of her depth. “Why are you asking me?”
“Because,” Simon answered, leaning forward purposefully, locking her eyes, “you are the one who backed away, and I know you didn’t really want to. For the last time, and Belle I warn you, if you do not give me a definitive answer–” he warned, allowing her imagination to finish the sentence.
Belle swallowed. A fork in the road of her life had unexpectedly opened up before her. Taking a deep breath she said,
“Yes, Simon. For me anyway, there is an us.”
“There is for me too,” he smiled. “Please, will you come and sit next to me now?”
Be
lle moved from her chair and sat beside him, butterflies leaping in her stomach, her heart racing.
“I can’t quite believe this,” she stammered.
“First things first. Why did you pull away?” he demanded. “It was very confusing, and not particularly good my ego.”
“I thought–it seemed–I mean–you are Simon Sinclair, and I’m just–well–me. I figured you’d have your fun and then be gone and I’d be left behind, all sad and everything,” she confessed.
“Really? You think I’m capable of being that much of a cad?”
“Well, you didn’t start this whole thing thinking you were going to–uh–want more than anything casual did you?”
Simon shifted uncomfortably. She had a point.
“I am very kind to the women I date,” he remarked, not quite sure what else to say. “I would certainly not have summarily rejected you without an explanation, as you did me.”
“Touché,” she replied, feeling a bit embarrassed. He was right. She’d unceremoniously fobbed him off.
“But to the point,” he continued. “I do care for you, about you, what happens to you, very much.”
“Simon,” she sighed. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You know what this means?”
“It means there’s an us,” she answered happily.
“Yes. There is an us, and it also means you’re going to get your bottom spanked, quite hard I think, and then I’m going to make love to you.”
The heat between her legs was instantaneous, and her heart was thundering so hard she thought it was going to leap right out of her chest.
“You love being spanked, don’t you Belle?” he asked, leaning forward and kissing her neck.
“Oh God,” she breathed. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“You say that a lot,” he remarked. “Once you’ve fully recovered from yesterday’s trauma...”
“I’m already recovered,” she blurted out, cutting him off.
“My goodness,” he smiled, pulling back and shaking his head. “You must be, interrupting me like that.”
“Sorry, sorry,” she mumbled. “I know it’s a terrible habit.”
“Yes, it is, and I find it hard to believe you have bounced back so quickly.”
“I have, Simon. Honestly. I feel fine, better than fine.”
Her eyes were alive, shining at him, pleading with him to devour her.
“Would you like me to spank you right now?”
“Ohhhh...” she breathed, thinking she would die if he didn’t take her in his arms, or over his knee at that very moment.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes, I would,” she squeaked. “I truly would...”
“You’re absolutely sure?” he pressed.
“Yes, absolutely, totally sure,” she promised.
“Then crawl across my lap and present your bottom.”
“Ooohhh...thank you, Sir,” she moaned.
The direct and salacious order sent waves of blistering heat through her body, and sliding across his legs, she buried her face in the loose throw cushion waiting to greet her.
Simon stared at her cute, round backside sitting perfectly under the soft fabric of her skirt, and began fondling gently, then squeezing her cheeks.
“This skirt is really quite lovely,” he commented as he slapped her a couple of times.
She let out a couple of small yelps, and he spanked her again.
“This is what’s going to happen,” he decreed, continuing to caress her, driving her slightly mad. “I’m going to spank you for a little while, then you will go into my bedroom, strip to your bra and panties and wait for me laying over the bed.”
“Yes, Sir,” she moaned, wriggling against his hand.
“I must go and see Cecil but I won’t be long. You know what I expect to find upon my return.”
“Yes, Sir!”
So it began, his hand slapping her bottom without pause, in a profound but not severe way, until her slight squeals and whimpers told him when to stop.
“When I return, before I continue with your spanking, I will outline some rules. Do you have a problem with rules, Belle?”
“Um–sometimes, Sir,” she stammered, wriggling as she spoke.
“I thought as much. You may remove yourself from my lap and rest on your knees, hands behind your back, eyes lowered. Once I have left, you will go straight to my bedroom and ready yourself for my return.”
“Sir?” she whimpered.
“Yes?”
“Permission to brush my teeth first?”
“First, Sir!” he replied sternly, smacking her with a brisk, hard slap.
“OH! Sorry. Sorry, Sir. Permission to brush my teeth first, Sir.”
“Granted. Off my lap now, please.”
Belle slithered on to her knees, and locking her fingers behind her back, dropped her gaze to the floor. Her bottom was warmly stinging, not as hot or as tender as it had been when he had spanked her with the bathroom brush. Her thighs squeezed together, underscoring the pulsating heat between her legs. As he stood up she noticed his shoes. Beige Gucci loafers with a gold horse’s bit.
“You are scrumptious, Belle Somers,” he said tenderly. “I won’t be long.”
Her heart felt so full she thought she would burst with happiness. When she heard the door close behind him she leapt to her feet, racing to brush her teeth, then hurried to his bedroom.
Simon was trying to complete his business as quickly as he could, but it wasn’t easy. The thought of Belle bent over his bed waiting for him was making it incredibly difficult to concentrate. He had just reviewed and signed the last document when Cecil coughed. Simon knew when Cecil coughed he had something more to say.
“Yes?” Simon asked impatiently.
“Apparently, since Mr. Harrington’s arrest yesterday, another woman has come forward with similar accusations.”
“Really? How do you know this?”
“Detective Tennison called. Thought you would want to know. There’s rather a large scale investigation underway. Miss Somers is very fortunate you arrived when you did.”
Simon scowled. He would do everything in his power to make sure Sean Harrington would pay for his dastardly deeds.
“Thank you, Cecil. I appreciate the information. Is there anything else?”
“You asked me to remind you to bring Joseph Cardinelli in for an interview.”
“Ah yes. Does my diary allow for it later this afternoon?”
“Yes, Mr. Sinclair, it does.”
“Then schedule him. I have something to attend to now, and don’t wish to be disturbed for the next little while. I’ll let you know when I’m available again. Probably about an hour.”
“Yes, Mr. Sinclair. I’ll make sure not to bother you.”
“Thank you.”
Simon left and quickened his pace as he walked the short distance back to his suite. Hanging the Do Not Disturb Sign on the outside knob, he locked the door behind him, took a deep breath and headed for his bedroom. The door was closed, and opening it quietly he stepped into the room; the sight almost took his breath away.
Clad in red satin, French-cut, lace trimmed knickers, Belle’s beautiful bottom, already pink from the attention of his slapping hand, stared back at him. Her legs were spread, her hands locked together just below her waist, giving her back a natural arch, causing her perfect posterior to protrude in a seriously provocative manner. She had drawn the drapes and dimmed the lights, bathing the room in a muted golden glow.
Silently he walked past her into the bathroom. Stripping off his clothes, he donned the heavy robe provided by the hotel, quickly brushed his teeth and gave himself a splash of his unique cologne. Opening his toiletry bag, he pulled out a condom and dropped it in one of the deep pockets the robe provided.
Flicking off the light he stepped back into the bedroom and sat on the edge of bed, next to where she was resting her head. Her eyes looked up at him expectantly.
“Be
autiful Belle,” he crooned, stroking her hair. “Aren’t you lovely?”
“Thank you, Sir,” she smiled.
“Are you happy?”
“Very, Sir. Don’t think I’ve ever been happier.”
“Are you ready to listen to my rules?”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied, and silently added, more than ready.
“These are in no particular order, and each rule is just as important as another. When I’m spanking you, unless I tell you otherwise, you may make as much noise as you wish and wriggle as much as you want, but if your wrists aren’t tied you must not put your hands behind you. If you do, you will receive a serious swat with my shoe.”
“Oh!” Belle exclaimed, the sight of his Gucci loafers instantly appearing in her mind’s eye.
“Each time you crawl across my lap, or I position you for a spanking, I will not begin until you say, I am ready, Sir, but you must not keep me waiting too long. If you do you will receive additional punishment. Next. When I give you an instruction I expect you to follow it immediately and exactly. Any questions so far?”
“No, Sir.”
“As I said, every rule is as important as another, but pay particular attention to this; if you are troubled by anything I do or say you must tell me. If at any time you feel my discipline is too harsh, or perhaps not harsh enough, you must tell me. If you feel insecure or troubled about anything, you must tell me. Do you have any questions?”
“I don’t think so, Sir. At least, not yet.”
“Good. There are other rules but those will do for now,” he declared, rising from the bed. “Do you know why I’m going to spank you further?”
“Because you like it and you want to?”
“Well, there is that,” he grinned, walking behind her, “but there’s more. I hold no grudges, but do exact discipline immediately, as you learned, did you not?”
“Yes, Sir. I did,” she replied.
“I also administer maintenance spankings,” he continued. “Do you know what that means?”
“For good measure?”
“Yes,” he said, fondling her bottom, “but there are also tantalizing, sensuous spankings, which you will love, and tonight is going to be one of those. I could have continued with your punishment, but I have decided to be lenient. For both our sakes,” he finished smiling.
The British Billionaire Bachelor Page 8