It was the one time Parker stepped forward.
“It looks beautiful on you, Miss Somers,” he had assured her. “I’m sure Mr. Sinclair will be very pleased with your choice.”
“It’s just so...“ she paused, holding the price tag in her hand.
“That part of the equation is not something he would want you to be concerned with,” he had replied, with a slight nod of his head.
The shoes had come next, and she chose a pair of Christian Louboutin, glossy black pumps, which perfectly complimented the shimmering rhinestones, and when she had emerged from her bedroom at the appointed time, the expression on Simon’s face told her she had chosen well. He had checked to make sure she was completely naked under the designer creation, lifting the skirt at the hem, and after fondling her cheeks for a moment, had lightly touched her breasts, making her nipples stiffen to attention.
“Excellent,” he had crooned. “You are a sight, Miss Somers, a stunningly beautiful one.”
She had blushed and dropped her eyes, not by choice, but an automatic response, and he had taken her hand and lead her out to the waiting car.
But there had been no spanking. Had she imagined what he had said to her? He was a man who kept his promises, of that she was certain. She had been in such a heightened sexual state at the time, she wondered if she had simply created the thought in her head.
“How far are we from the restaurant,” he inquired, settling into the back seat of the stretch limousine. Belle had been staring at her hand wrapped in his, the softness of his palm belied the sting it contained, enveloping her fingers with a soft, warm gentleness.
“Oh–about ten minutes,” she answered, lifting her gaze to stare back at him.
Without comment he reached his hand across to a control panel and pressed one of many buttons. Instantly a screen slid up, separating them from Parker.
“Lift your dress to your waist and lie across my knee please,” he ordered, sitting back and pulling slightly on her hand.
She stared at him, startled by the instruction.
“Don’t make me ask a second time,” he warned.
A rush of heat rocketed through her body. Carefully lifting the flimsy material she crawled into position, and as she lay tremulously waiting, she suddenly remembered the rule.
“I’m ready, Sir.”
His hand fondled, squeezed and caressed, then smacked down several times with a spicy bite. She gasped, clenching her teeth, doing her best not to wriggle, but couldn’t help a little squirm. A moment later his titillating fingertips slipped between her legs, pushing them apart, then slithered between her lips.
“Oooh, Sir,” she whimpered.
He toyed with her for a short time before landing several more hard, stinging slaps, then dallied again. She knew she was wet, she knew she was swollen, she knew she was reacting like the saucy little strumpet she was, unable to prevent herself from wiggling against the delicious torment his finger was inflicting, but it was short-lived. A moment later the bottom roasting continued, this time for several minutes, leaving her breathless and scalded.
“You will be permitted to sit up shortly, but first, let’s just see...” he said, once more sliding his fingers inside her invitingly open cunny. “My goodness, Belle, you are positively dripping.”
Belle squirmed shamelessly, pressing against his hand.
“Listen carefully,” he said, continuing his lewd exploration. “When we reach our table, you will say you left your handbag in the car and leave to fetch it.”
“Yes, Sir–but–I–uh–didn’t bring one.”
His hand instantly left her nether regions and landed smartly on her crimson backside, eliciting a shocked yelp.
“Just do as you’re told. Make the statement then go to the car.”
“Yes, Sir,” she cried, then moaned as his hand smoothed and soothed her burning skin.
“When you return you will find a serviette on your chair. You will arrange your dress and sit your naked bottom directly upon it, and once you’ve settled you’ll reach down and pull it against yourself, then cross your legs to hold it in place. Do you understand your instructions?”
“Yes, Sir,” she breathed, lost in the warm, comforting caress of his soft palm.
“You may sit up now,” he offered, and helped her off his lap.
Her sparkling eyes stared at him as she attempted to smooth her hair. Smiling, he leaned forward, kissing her on the lips, his mouth gentle and warm. It was only a few minutes later the car pulled to a stop beside a forest green awning.
“Have you eaten here?” he asked, as Parker opened the door.
“No, but I’ve always wanted to.”
Simon was next to the door so exited first, then extended his hand to help her out.
“Thank you, Parker,” Simon said, and placing his arm around her waist, escorted her to the small arcade, and they ambled past the antique shops that lined either side of the lane. The walkway ended at the entrance to the restaurant, and once inside Simon understood why Belle had suggested it. It was small, dimly lit, and the tables were positioned for private, romantic dining. The waiters were in white shirts, black vests and bow-ties. It was quiet, though it seemed to Simon every table was occupied. The hostess, dressed in an elegant, long, forest green gown, led them to a table in a dark corner. It was perfect.
“Oh dear, I’m sorry Simon, I left my bag in the car,” Belle declared, as they were about to sit down. “I’ll be right back.”
She walked back through the restaurant, feeling Simon’s eyes follow her, soaking in the sight of the dreamy dress as it floated across her tanned behind. Her nipples were pressing urgently against the soft fabric, and she wondered if they were noticeable in the low light. She clipped through the arcade, and as she exited on to the street she saw Parker standing by the car, holding a black sequined evening bag. Startled, she hurried forward and took it from his hand.
“Miss Somers,” he greeted her, “Mr. Sinclair said you’d be back for this.”
“Thank you,” Belle exclaimed, unable to disguise her surprise as she took the glittering bag from his hand.
“You’re welcome, Miss Somers,” he replied politely. “Enjoy your evening.”
Belle started back, but it occurred to her to open the bag as she walked. Inside she found a glossy lipstick, tissues, a comb and small mirror.
This really is a dream, she thought, entering the restaurant. Reaching the table she stared down at the chair. As promised, there was a barely discernible black napkin sitting on the seat. Simon watched her closely as she nervously glanced around, then sliding into her chair, flipped up her dress at the last moment, wincing a little as she sat down.
There was a bottle of champagne in an ice-bucket already at the table, and as she reached between her legs to nestle the end of the napkin against her sex, Simon pulled the bottle from the ice and poured the bubbling liquid into her glass.
“Comfortable?” he asked, as she crossed her legs.
“As I can be,” she giggled. “Thank you for this beautiful evening bag. Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied. “Now a toast,” he said smiling. “To the fulfillment of fantasies.”
“I’ll certainly drink to that,” she smiled.
They clinked glasses and sipped, and a waiter seemed to simply manifest at their table. Simon looked at his watch.
“Come back in exactly five minutes,” he said.
“Yes, Sir,” the waiter replied, withdrawing into the semidarkness.
“Now then, where were we? Ah, yes. Fantasies fulfilled. Do you have many fantasies, Belle?” he asked, leaning in closely, speaking in a low, hushed voice.
Belle felt her face flush, and stared at the table cloth.
“Um–I do,” she answered, taking another sip of the champagne. “One of them came true about ten minutes ago.”
“Really? And that was?”
“I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” she sighed. “I
mean–I’m not usually so quick to share my deepest, darkest secrets.”
It was true. Belle was a very private person. It had her taken weeks to open up to Justin, and here she was, ready to confess many of her most decadent desires to Simon Sinclair after only a few short hours.
“I’m flattered. Tell me, though I can guess.”
“Why don’t you?” she said hopefully.
“Because that would be too easy for you,” he replied. “Now tell me.”
Belle felt her thighs pressing together, the napkin between her legs a constant reminder of her state of growing hunger.
“Oh Simon–it was–what you did–in the limousine,” she admitted.
“I did many things in the limousine,” he pressed.
“Spanking me,” she whispered, feeling her face flush a thousand shades of red.
“I see. So you’ve always wanted to be spanked in the back of a car. Well, my dear, I can promise it won’t be the last time.”
Belle felt a fresh surge of heat ripple down her spine.
“I suspect there’s even more to that fantasy, isn’t there?”
“Ohhh...yes, Simon, there is,” she replied, swallowing hard.
“Let’s see. We have two minutes before the waiter returns for our order. Tell me quickly, so we can look at our menus.”
“May I whisper it in your ear?”
Simon smiled. It would be easier for her than to speak it out loud, even in hushed tones.
“Of course,” he agreed, leaning his head down.
Cupping her lips with her hand, she murmured,
“Being put on my knees and–um–taking–uh–performing oral sex.”
“Say it the way you really want to say it,” he said firmly.
Gulping, and feeling as if she was a naive teenager, she whispered,
“Being put on my knees and being made to suck your cock–Sir.”
“What a coincidence. That is already my intention for you. Something you can think about over dinner.”
Sighing deeply, Belle leaned her head against his shoulder, and he allowed her to rest it there for a moment before handing her a menu.
“Time to make a decision,” he said softly.
As dimly lit as the restaurant was, Simon could see the red flush on her face and sparkle in her eye. His member was already at attention, and the thought of her kneeling before him in the car, worshipping his member during the drive back to the hotel did nothing to subdue his cock-stand.
Studying the food on offer helped somewhat, and listening to the waiter as he described the specials was distracting, but when Belle slipped her hand under the table, and blatantly squeezed the inside of his thigh, his semi-erect state turned rock-hard immediately.
When the waiter was out of earshot, Simon turned to face her.
“You naughty, cheeky girl,” he scolded, grinning from ear to ear.
“Who? Me?” she asked innocently.
“Put your hand between your legs straight away and play with your clit. You will continue to do so until I tell you to stop!” he ordered firmly.
“What? Here?”
“If you do not, I will absolutely put you over my knee right here, right now,” he stated emphatically.
“You wouldn’t,” she replied, aghast that he would even suggest such a thing.
“You’ve got five seconds to find out. One–two...”
“Okay, okay!” she exclaimed, dropping her hand under the tablecloth.
He slid his fingers down to join hers, making sure she was doing as instructed, and satisfied, settled back to watch her.
“Can we talk while I do this?” she asked, mesmerized by his handsome face, the coolness of his gaze, the extraordinary way he...
“If you wish,” he replied, interrupting her thoughts, “but I’m happy just to sit here and look at you, knowing what’s happening, what you’re doing, how you’re feeling.”
“Simon,” she murmured. “This is all so unbelievable.”
He smiled in response. She was full of her passionate and submissive need. There were so many things he could teach her, show her, so much he wanted to share with her.
“Tip of the iceberg,” he said, softly, running his fingertips down the side of her exposed arm, “and this dress is absolutely gorgeous.”
Belle shivered and sighed.
“Tip?” she mumbled.
“Barely,” he replied, it could take a lifetime to show you, he silently added, then caught himself. A lifetime?
The meals arrived, and as the waiter placed the dishes in front of each of them, Simon leaned in and spoke quietly in her ear.
“You may remove your hand to eat, but make sure that serviette is back in place and your legs are crossed.”
Belle couldn’t believe he had said such a thing in front of the waiter, and though he could not have heard, just the idea sent a rush of renewed heat through her sex, causing her thighs to squeeze together.
“This smells so delicious,” she said softly, inhaling the rich aroma. “Oh, Simon. Honestly, I feel as if I’m just one big nerve ending.”
“I know that my dear, and your food will taste even better because of it.”
Belle took a mouthful, and immediately decided either Simon had been correct, or the chef was the best in Beverly Hills. The spices came alive in her mouth, and she moaned quietly with every bite, savoring the flavorful feast. He began to chat leisurely about unimportant things, how temperate the weather was in Beverly Hills, how he would like to take a ride out to see the beaches, asked about her background, and when they finally finished their meal, Simon instructed her to remove the serviette from the seat.
“Fold it neatly please, and place it in your bag.”
After a quick glance to make sure no-one was watching, Belle pulled the napkin from between her legs, folded it tightly and slipped it into her bag.
“Now pull out the lipstick and gloss your lips.”
“Um–okay,” she said, finding the small, gold cylinder.
Pulling the cover off, she found the lipstick was red, but transparent, like glycerin soap.
“What an unusual lip gloss,” she murmured, studying it.
“That, my dear, is a very special lipstick all the way from London.”
“Really? You brought it with you?” she asked, feeling a little odd. If he weren’t giving it to her, would he have offered it to someone else?
“Belle! Would you rather I be an inexperienced man with no tricks up my sleeve?” he asked, as if reading her mind. “Would you prefer I don’t know about that lipstick, or a myriad of other salacious surprises I have in store for you?”
She gulped. He was absolutely right. One of the reasons she was so drawn to him was his prowess. It allowed her to surrender without fear, knowing he was skilled and confident.
“No, Sir–it’s just...”
“Stop thinking all those foolish insecure thoughts and focus on me, as I’m focusing on you. That lipstick is going to paint your lips with a delicious emollient that you will find delightfully helpful when you put your mouth to good use. I want to watch you apply it. Do so now, please,” he said firmly.
“Yes, Sir.”
Pulling the mirror from the bag, she stared at her reflection as she smoothed on the transparent lip balm. Almost immediately her lips began to tingle, and she tasted a hint of cinnamon.
“Ohhh, this is something special,” she murmured, applying a second coat, and as she stared at her lips in the small mirror, she could have sworn they had become a little plumper. Replacing the cap, she returned the items into the bag and smiled at him.
“Beautiful,” Simon smiled back at her.
No sooner had he offered the compliment, when the waiter appeared with a long, brown package.
“Here you are, Sir. I hope you will come again soon.”
“Thank you. I’m sure we will,” Simon replied, taking the package, and rose from the table as the waiter held the chair for Belle.
Belle was confused.
No check had been delivered, but obviously the bill had been paid or the waiter would not have been bidding them goodnight. As they walked out of the restaurant, and made their way through the arcade, she looped her arm around his elbow.
“May I ask you something?” she queried, her curiosity getting the better of her.
“You want to know what’s in here?” he suggested, lifting the long brown package.
“Well, yes, I do, but my question is, how did you pay the check? It was never presented.”
“Parker takes care of those things. I don’t like bills being placed in front of me. I find it gauche.”
“Oh–yes–I kind of understand that,” she remarked, and thought of how she had often felt uncomfortable at such times.
“As for this,” he continued, nodding towards the mysterious package, “you’re about to find out, but I will tell you this much. Along with that napkin in your bag, it will be a souvenir of our first dinner out.”
Belle beamed. That’s why he wanted her to keep the napkin! A souvenir. How totally romantic!
Parker immediately opened the door as they approached, and as Belle climbed inside, she heard Simon instruct Parker to drive around Beverly Hills for a little while, before returning to the hotel. She noticed the privacy screen was still in place, and as Simon settled in next to her, he presented her with the package.
“Go ahead,” he urged. “Open it.”
Excitedly, she ripped open the thin brown paper, and to her surprise discovered a rather heavy, long wooden spoon.
“OH!” she exclaimed.
“That is going to encourage you in your efforts,” he declared, as the car pulled away from the curb. Taking it from her hand he maneuvered her on to her knees in front of him. “The second part of your fantasy is about to happen, with a little something extra.”
Belle stared up at him, and for a moment he seemed larger than life.
“Lift your dress around your waist, and arrange it so it won’t fall down,” he instructed.
Belle couldn’t fathom how she could possibly manage such a thing, then realized by raising the two sides, she could tie them in a knot at her belly. Quickly she did so, then looked up at him expectantly, waiting for further orders.
The British Billionaire Bachelor Page 10