by Palmer, Dee
I puff out a frustrated breath when it finally occurs to me, that I am an idiot. This is my punishment. Twenty five minutes waiting for something, anything . . . punishment, relief, maybe even reward but nothing. I am being denied. Well, that may be his intention but the final outcome is most definitely in my hands. I am aroused, half naked and now I seem to be gently holding my own breasts which are almost as sensitive to my touch as his. My nipples are achingly hard and my skin is prickled with a million goose bumps. I don’t actually own a BOB, thought I had one from a hen party goody bag but apparently not. Still I have my fingers, a healthy imagination and the sex drive of a horny rabbit. This really shouldn’t take long. I close my eyes and moan because all I can see is his eyes, his face contorted with desire. I succumb to this blissful image and in my mind replace my hands with his, my breath with his and my. . . . Shit! Shit! The doorbell breaks my dream like haze, halting the fantasy before it took its first forbidden step. I grab my robe from the back of my bedroom door and roughly push my arms through the sleeve, taking my frustrated anger out on the silky material. I am going to take that front door key and shove it where the sun don’t shine. Marco has managed to get in the main door just not in to the apartment. He has not even bothered to look under the plant pot. I fumble with the main lock.
“For fuck sake Marco the keys under the—” I snap my mouth shut when I am faced not with my forgetful flatmate but the smouldering image of my recently dissolved fantasy. He steps in through the door forcing me to step back. His hands take the edge of my robe and cross it firmly, tightening it again at the waist whilst looking over his shoulder. There is no one there and it makes me chuckle, barely a flash of cleavage was exposed and he acts like I’m Lady Cadaver.
“Please don’t finish that sentence with plant pot because I will have to punish you all over again and I have plans for us tonight.” His arm sweeps around my waist and he steers me into my bedroom.
“So leaving me waiting was my punishment?” I watch him walk toward my wardrobe where he frowns as he rummages through my sparse array of clothing.
“No, stopping you from finishing, that was your punishment and judging by that tone you answered the door with I would say I was successful?” He turns his head with a cocky grin. He pulls out a sleeveless black silk knitted dress with a flared skirt and a horizontal lace pattern. It is pretty much the only cocktail dress I had bought when I restocked my wardrobe. He lays it on the bed and starts to look for some shoes. I pinch my lips to stop from smirking when I hear him grumble. I know I only have wedges with any heal, not a stiletto insight. He pulls out a black wedged sandal but he doesn’t look happy about it. He is just about to put them next to the dress when he grins, noticing a small folded pile of clothes near my dresser under which he has spied the tell-tale red sole of Sofia’s patent black Louboutins with killer heels. “There, that is better.” He looks so pleased with himself. “Now if you would get dressed . . . I am taking you on a date.” His stellar smile disarms me but I have to protest.
“I don’t think that’s—” He steps up to me and places his firm finger against my lips halting my words.
“You have to let me try Bethany and I promise nothing will happen to you tonight, that you don’t want to happen.” His words are like velvet, a soft and seductive promise and that is exactly what I’m worried about. He chuckles, “Good to know.” He kisses me lightly. His lips sweet and warm but my eyes are wide, that was in my head, did I say that out loud? “I am expecting a delivery so I will be a gentleman and wait in the hall and Bethany . . .” He pauses, my eyes are still wide from his ability to mind read. “You may wear panties.”
I snort out an unladylike laugh. “Definitely a gentleman, thank you most kindly Sir.” I do a mock curtsey and usher him from my room.
I PILE MY hair in a loose bun on top of my head and brush the wayward tendrils away from my face, some lip gloss and I’m done. The weather has been uncharacteristically not very British recently and this evening is no exception, warm, balmy with almost tropical humidity, hence the wayward tendrils. There is a gentle knock on my door.
“Are you decent?” His gravelly voice makes my skin dance with a sprinkling of a million prickles and I think in my current heighten state of constant sexual arousal I can safely answer ‘not even remotely’ but I settle for a polite affirmation. The door opens and he leans on the frame, his arms crossing his trim waist, his forearms tanned, sculpted and his eyes . . . they could scorch the clothes from my skin.
“God you are so fucking beautiful.” His frown deepens like this thought has made him angry. He shakes his head at the troubled expression, replacing it with an utterly wicked smile. “But there’s something missing.” He pushes himself from the doorframe with his shoulders and in two strides is directly in front of me, not touching but I can instantly feel the palpable heat and tension his body ignites. He traces a finger down my cheek, I feel his gentle touch but he isn’t actually touching me; my body is reacting to the nearness, to the anticipation, to the promise. This is going to be a tortuously long night. “Tonight is a date Bethany. I don’t want you to think for one moment what we have is just about sex, even if that sex is phenomenal. I will not be fucking you, or making love to you tonight.” His grin widens at my pathetic whimper that is strangled at the back of my throat. “Having said that, your body seems to be hyper responsive to my touch and I do intend on touching you, a great deal.” His middle finger barely touches my chin to tilt it so his eyes are fixed on mine. “And I can’t have you begging all night, because I’m only human and I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
I sniff at his arrogance but it falls flat. His eyes darken, like he is setting my soul on fire and I can feel the heat burning fiercely in my depths, building pressure and embers of desire that will rage with the slightest fanning. His mouth is millimetres from mine and he is holding his sweet lips just out of reach. Even as I sway for contact he reacts and withdraws enough, enough to prove his point. I can feel my lips form the shape of my first begging words.
“Pl. .” He kisses me so lightly but it calms the embers for now and I sigh.
“So to help us both I’d like you to wear these.” He holds his palm and my eyes are momentarily drawn from his gaze to what looks like, two small glossy black marbles in his hands. He chuckles at my frown.
“Well, this is hardly a Pretty Woman moment Daniel.” I joke and I can feel my cheeks flush. Personally I may not be super experienced with sex toys but I’ve been educated by the best. Frequent awkward conversations with Marco and the boys in the restaurant kitchen left no topic taboo.
“Bethany, when I give you a diamond necklace, it won’t be a rental.” His serious expression leaves me in no doubt of his words but it gives way to a wickedly slow grin. “Now, turn around Bethany, bend over and place your hands on the bed.” His voice is dark and hoarse and when I hesitate he asks. “Do you trust me?” I turn and follow his instruction, my actions speaking for me. He runs his hand down my spine and lifts the hem of my dress over my bottom. It is an act that makes me feel extremely exposed but when he pulls my panties to one side this vulnerability intensifies. His deep satisfied humming from his chest and the soft sweep of his finger in my slick folds instantly dissolves any unease and I find my hips move toward his too delicate touch. He dips one finger inside, pulls it slowly out and the next feeling is more intense, a change in pressure and temperature as he pushes one of the balls inside me. Before I can clench and acclimate he pushes the second ball deep, along with his finger, swirling and moving the foreign objects so I am acutely aware of their presence. He removes his finger and drags it once more along my length and up the crack of my bottom. He carefully replaces my panties and pats my dress back into place.
I stand and turn to face him, my face a flush of colour and I wobble as the balls move ever so lightly inside. The feeling is strange, not unpleasant and a little distracting. “Umm and this is supposed to help how exactly?” I hold myself perfectly still and he moves
a little closer. His hands gently brush the stray hair away from my eyes, stroking his fingers lightly across my neck and down my back; his mouth brushes my cheekbone. I shiver when I feel a gentle build of pressure, moving and swirling deep inside.
“Mmm lets see shall we?” His fresh minty breath follows his whispered words as his lips trace mine, his tongue seeking entry. Trembling I gasp as a satisfying wave of pleasure gently bursts inside, nothing monumental but delicious and calming. My seemingly insatiable need quelled and abated without a single, pant, beg or torn piece of clothing. “No need for BOB.” He growls, “And I get to be the perfect gentleman making sure you have the most enjoyable date imaginable without compromising my intentions.” He sounds smug but he moves his hand to adjust himself and I laugh and draw in a sharp breath at the same time. Ok so no sudden movements or sharp contracting muscles and gently does it from now on, which includes sudden fits of laughter.
“I think this is all good in theory but I have a feeling it’s not going to be that simple.” I cautiously lean down to pick up my bag. “And what about you?” I raise my brow and bite my lips to hold back the inevitable grin.
“I promise nothing will happen tonight that you don’t want to happen but I was serious about no sex. You have to understand, nothing is more important than you understanding exactly what you mean to me. I need to make you mine . . . again.” His serious tone hangs heavy but he shrugs, “So I will have to endure the hard on from hell all evening while you have an evening full of mini orgasms. Sucks to be me right now, eh?” He winks and laughs but my tongue darts to moisten my lips at the only word I heard and he holds his hand up. “Hey, I’m not a Saint, keep looking like that and this will be the shortest fucking date in history.” He cups my cheeks with both hands large enough to cover my entire face, his expression so sincere it melts my heart. “Please baby, let me do this?” I nod and he flashes his heart steeling smile, grabs my hand and leads me from the apartment. “Great, I promise this is going to be fun.” His enthusiasm is contagious and has me feeling all warm and fuzzy; well, I think it’s his enthusiasm.
I am very confused. We are standing outside my apartment, Daniel’s car is nowhere to be seen and he seems to be leading me to a mini that is double parked. Not a new model mini like the one Ethan owns. This is an original mini, fire engine red, union jack on the roof and tiny, it’s absolutely tiny. As we approach a small, wiry looking man in his late twenties, with light blonde hair and a wispy ginger beard gets out of the front seat and rushes round to open our door. He is dressed smartly in trousers, shirt and black tie, he probably ditched his jacket because of the heat or more likely because there’s no room for it in the car.
“Hello Mr Stone, my names Billy and I am your driver for this evening.” He sweeps his arm in the direction of the back seat. “Welcome, if you would like to make yourselves comfortable, we’ll get started.” His voice is bright and energetic. Daniel moves to allow me to step, fold and wedge myself into the back seat. I shuffle back, the seat is actually quite comfortable and I have enough leg room but then I’m only five foot six. I can’t help but laugh as Daniel, at just shy of six four attempts to squeeze his frame in beside me. He laughs too but shuffles and moves so his large arm is around my shoulders and his legs are more on my side, either that or they would be tucked under his chin. He holds my hand with his free hand; lifting it to his lips he kisses the fingertips. Billy gets in starts up and announces that he is going to guide us through London on an original mini tour. The biggest smile stretches across my face. I love London but like many that live in this city I am ashamed to say I don’t take the time to enjoy it. I have probably visited all the major sights at one time but I take most for granted and have never been on a guided tour. Not even one of the many open top bus tours and they practically pass my front door every day.
I squeak as we hit our first pot hole that feels like the Grand Canyon in this car, you forget how lovely suspension is until there is none, or very little in this case. My muscles automatically tense and I get an instant warm rush and gentle wave of pleasure that causes me to let out a surprised breath. I hear Daniel chuckle. I turn to scowl but he is looking out of the window. Billy is giving a lively commentary as we pass Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. The constant ebb and flow of pleasure from every bump in the road and every stroke of Daniels soft fingers on my neck or gentle kiss on my cheek is sublime but it does mean I pay little attention to the tour. We pass Buckingham Palace and St James, weaving our way across the city via a web of tiny back streets. Who knew there where that many cobbled streets left and who knew a mini would fit down them or that this tour would drive every single one of them. We drive across the river past The Globe and finally stop near The London Eye.
Daniel thanks Billy as I regain my composure. He takes my hand and walks me toward the river, and out on to a private pier where a large speed boat is tied. I halt and he turns looking at my feet, maybe he thinks my heel is stuck in the wooden boarding. His eyes travel slowly up my body and his smile gets wider with every inch covered until he meets my eyes and sees that my head is shaking. He steps to my side and wraps his strong arm around my shoulder pulling me to him and toward the boat.
“I promise you’ll love it.” His intonation fails to hide how true he believes his words to be and he has the cheek to wink as he holds his hand to me to follow him on to the sleek polished luxury speed boat. I slip out of my shoes and take his hand and steady myself as I step on and sit straight down. I know very little about cars and even less about boats but this one is very smart. On closer inspection the glossy black exterior is actually a midnight blue with a slight metallic sparkle, the plush seats that curve around the back of the boat are cream leather with dark blue piping and every surface is either super shiny chrome or polished wood. There are two large leather swivel chairs one behind what looks like a dash board and the wheel. Daniel sits beside me and lightly places his hand on the skirt of my dress, half touching my skin, his hand is warm and firm and although I feel a tingle all over it is manageable. The desire and need is there but it’s not all consuming. It is just normal and I am so grateful because for the first time in a while my brain can function. “You look so fucking beautiful, you look like you do when you’ve just—”
“—All clear to go Sir?” The voice interrupts and I giggle. Daniel kisses my nose and turns.
“All good thank you Mark, maybe not to the barrier, just the Dome and back?” Daniel clears his throat and flashes me a quick heated look.
“Very good Sir.” Mark turns and starts the very loud engine, the rumble sends a storm of vibrations through the boat and through me and I find I grip Daniels knee and the seat in anticipation of I know what’s coming. Because that would be me. This city is most incredible when the sun begins to set. I adore the riverbank vista and I love the varied skyline with its endless sea of sparkling lights. I love that Daniel wanted to show me this and I love that this is a proper date. We didn’t really date first time round. We just were and then my sister put an end to that and then we were again and now Angel has put an end to that. Maybe this time, dating is a better way to start, less drama more fun. The boat is fast and we speed and bump and jump our way up the Thames. Daniel holds my thigh as my body lifts and plummets with each wave and drop. The speed is exhilarating, the wind whips my hair loose and instead of fighting to keep it contained I loosen my tie and shake it out completely. I must look like medusa but I don’t care, it feels amazing, I feel free and I can’t fight how happy I am right now. I start to laugh with the next sudden drop and Daniel swings his arm pulling me close as I am tossed about unable to contain the fits of giggles. It is hard over the noise of the engine but I think he’s laughing too, he is certainly smiling. He is right, this is fun but like with most things too much and it very quickly stops being fun. I am just about there as one more wave of pleasure gently erupts and rolls away as we pull alongside the pier once more. I can feel my thighs tremble and I am exhausted and slightly queasy.
Daniel takes one look at me, concern etched on his face.
“Are you all right, you look a little pale do you need me to. . . . Um help?” He shifts and my eyes flick to the distinctive bulge in his jeans. “Not that.” He adds quickly and I stifle a laugh because I can’t take any more tensing of my internal muscles.
“I think maybe I have had enough pleasure for one night.” I smile and see his shoulders relax. “And I would kill for some chips.” I smile, a little shy and he laughs loudly.
“No need to resort to murder, but chips? Are you sure? I was planning on taking you to The Berkerley.” He pulls me up to stand and I wobble but he steadies me with his hands firmly on my hips.
“I’m craving chips.” My mouth snaps at my slip but I quickly add. “I wouldn’t want you thinking I’m after your money. I don’t mind being a cheap date and I really fancy chips, something simple and soon.” I prompt.