by Flora Dain
I step closer. ‘What? Tell me.’
He licks his lips. ‘Or else the system has a bug. And that could mean all our systems have it.’ He stares at me, his eyes wild. ‘Christ. This could be serious.’
Miserably I bite my lip. ‘I didn’t want to worry you. I thought I could ask around and maybe find out for myself.’ I tail off at his furious expression.
‘And get raped or murdered doing it?’ He gestures towards the picture. ‘This is serious stuff, not some kid playing around with lipstick. They used a knife, for Chrissakes.’
‘Does it belong here?’
He lets out a long, slow breath. ‘Yes. The chef told me he missed it when he cleaned up after your baking.’ He turns to me slowly, his expression dark. ‘He said thanks for the cupcakes, by the way. Not bad for a beginner.’ He pauses, his expression intent. ‘And that reminds me.’
He pulls me to him, his touch on my arm gentle for a moment, and then firmer. His gaze fixes on mine, his eyes opaque. ‘We’ve got things to do.’
And all at once I see what Freda meant.
‘Tougher than he looks and deeper than you think …’
He looks tough all right, a tower of power and muscle dressed in black, the Wolfe logo blazing on his waistband and a new gleam in his eye. But as I stare at him, I see a flicker of raw pain. For all his tough talk and his self-discipline, the last few days are having an effect.
And now it’s starting to surface. Maybe in odd ways.
‘I want you upstairs. Now.’ He could be issuing a command, but he’s waiting, almost like he’s asking a question. And he’s watching me.
Something in his gaze sparks something deep inside me. As it flares into a fire, I realise it was a question, and the answer to it won’t be easy.
But it may be crucial – to his survival, to our happiness. And at least he’s asked.
But now he’s waiting.
I lean up and kiss him on the cheek – and pray.
He leads me straight upstairs, without looking round and without speaking. I feel like I’m in some kind of dream, the kind that starts off with a low burn deep between your legs and slowly flowers into the full, blooming ache of arousal long before you wake up and you know all the time you’re in it that you can’t do anything about it because you’re in a dream …
My arousal pounds deep below, before we even reach our huge glass-walled room, where the lights are now dimmed and the moonlight shines silver off the vast expanse of the ocean.
I know, almost before I see them, that the handcuffs will be precisely placed and carefully lit.
I know, almost before I see him do it, that he came downstairs wearing a belt for a reason.
He’s planned this. And he’s careful about these things.
The belt makes a hissing noise as he slides it out of the loops and then coils it over his arm. His eyes burn into mine. He stands easy in the middle of the room, a living idol, dark and intent, like something off the pages of a magazine – this time absolutely not an issue of NewsPeak.
‘Last chance. You can walk out of here if you want.’
His deep murmur sends a thrill through me. I raise my chin to show him I’m not afraid. There are two of us here, and I’ve got rights. Even if I’m quivering with excitement and shaky on detail.
‘What do you want me to do?’ Miraculously my voice stays low and steady, like I’m an equal partner here.
His eyes flicker and then he steps forward, loops the belt over my neck, draws me to him and finds my mouth with his in a long, controlling kiss that melts something deep down and turns my knees to jelly.
‘Anyone ever tell you how beautiful your voice is? I want you naked, kneeling and hot. Now.’
He stands back, arms folded, to watch as I obediently strip, bend over and turn round at his signal, and then sink to my knees. As he draws close I continue to gaze up into his eyes, wary of sudden movements, unsure how far or how fast this is going.
As he frees himself and towers above me I fasten on him eagerly, letting his urgent heat glow in my mouth as I kiss and salute him, and then surging forward in gradual stages to get him wet.
‘Easy. Not too fast. We’ve got things to do.’
The things we’re doing are vividly underlined as he draws the belt slowly over my back in a soft, sensual trail that makes me shiver. I try not to break my stroke as my lips tremble around his taut, swollen length, but the feel of it and the thought of what he wants to do with it are burning me up and scaring me too.
Will this hurt? Will I freak? How long will he do it?
‘Enough.’ He loops the belt over my neck as he eases me away and now I start to pant with excitement as he raises me to my feet, kisses me once more on the mouth and then leads me over to the bed. Two pairs of cuffs are waiting, looped around the bedposts. He wants me splayed between them.
‘Are you OK?’
His low voice thrills through me again and now I feel his hand, caressing me slowly, making me relax, and making me ache even more. I lean into his touch, already longing for him to begin as my private places swell and pulse, my delicate hidden folds tense now, growing numb with hunger as he slowly prepares me for his pleasure. And maybe mine …
‘Yes, sir,’ I whisper. ‘I’m ready.’ As ready as I’ll ever be …
And then he surprises me. He kisses me gently, his lips brushing mine in a whisper-soft caress, his eyes troubled. ‘Forgive me, Ella. I need this. I really, really need this …’
And now his gaze is the lost, bewildered look of a man at sea in a storm. I lean close, thrilling to the feel of his powerful body flexing against mine, his erection already glistening and hot as it burns against me, his chest powerful, heaving with emotion as he waits, trembling, for my consent.
‘I know.’ And with one last kiss I close my eyes and wait.
* * *
Now he moves fast. He turns me round, splays my arms and clamps on the cuffs. The cold metal chinks slightly as he does this, the hard rings pinching my wrist bones as he parts my legs and bends me over.
‘It won’t take long,’ he murmurs. And then he starts.
He starts with his hands, soothing me with his touch, his long, firm strokes all over my flanks and down the insides of my thighs sending waves of flame coursing through me. He reaches deeper, feeling round to my quivering breasts, hanging heavy below me, my nipples pinched with excitement and tight as stones under his teasing fingertips. And then, just as I start to hang in my bonds, his hands change their tone and I feel a hot, hard slap on one side of my behind. And now I feel another, and another, and soon I’m panting under a rain of blows from his hands, each sting jolting my burning places into new arousal, each slow caress, when he pauses and fondles me, making me glow.
‘OK so far? Hold the position.’ His voice is harsh now, his breath coming fast, like what he’s doing is hard work.
I try not to think he’s holding off from something even harsher. For now I’ll just go with the flow. ‘I’m fine.’
It’s even true, in a kind of way – but I’m well aware that he’s not really started yet.
This is just the warm-up.
And then he begins. I feel the belt snake over my back again, its evil length almost as arousing as his touch, now I know what’s coming. And all at once it leaves my skin and lands with a crash on my behind.
I jerk in the cuffs, pulling painfully against the metal, and then it lands again. This time I cry out, as the sting slices through me and makes me gasp.
‘Hey. Easy. Six more.’
He makes me count, and to my amazement the blows lighten up. Or maybe I lighten up. By the last I’m glowing, golden and burning, heady with sensation.
He leans down close to my ear and runs a finger lightly along the inside of my taut arm. I pull against the cruel metal and he smiles.
‘More?’
I swallow, letting the pain flower fully before I decide. If it gets much worse I’ll have to say no … The glow intensifies, and I start to
breathe more easily. ‘Two more. I can’t take much more than that.’
Mistake. Why do I never learn?
‘I say what you can take,’ he murmurs, pinching one of my quivering nipples. ‘That’s how it works. Three.’
They land mercifully fast, but cruelly hard. I feel tears smart from the sting and then a glorious golden heat starts to spread through me. ‘Why do you do this?’ I gasp, as he starts to fondle me again. It’s a foolish question, but the switch from cruel to kind is always a shock, and always unsettles me. I hardly know what I’m saying.
And now he surprises me again. ‘Because you make me want to. Hold still.’
I feel his thighs lean against mine, hard as tree-trunks, and the gorgeous, hot, hard length of his manhood pushing against me, splayed all this time for his delight. He plunges inside and starts to thrust.
He feels bigger and hotter than ever.
As he rams against me his rippling muscles are cool on my punished ass, the hairs on his abdomen prickly on my tender, glowing skin. It makes every stroke into a riot of pain and pleasure as my craven muscles drag him in, lusting for the fulfilment only he can bring. And when he reaches deep between my legs to grant my release his fingers barely touch me before I erupt into orgasm, sobbing with relief as he covers me with his body and explodes into his own pleasure.
The cuffs stay on a while. He stays inside me a while, too. But when he finally withdraws, my back feels wet.
He was crying.
* * *
A few days later it’s Valentine’s Day and my birthday. I’m being treated to a special night out. He’s still wary of publicity and the press so we avoid the city nightspots and go local.
After cocktails we head for a hilltop mansion in Healdsburg for a gourmet dinner with heart-shaped canapés, streamers, soft music and candles. This time my gown is untouched, and the bracelets are firmly – and thrillingly – in place. Darnley’s dark looks send tremors of excitement through me all evening.
After dessert he hands me a long, slim envelope. ‘Your present. Mostly from me. Savoy’s in there somewhere too.’ He raises my hand to his lips and kisses my fingers. ‘Happy Birthday, Ella.’
When I open it and finally understand what it is I throw my arms around his neck. ‘Thank you,’ I breathe.
It’s a recording contract with the Poetry Institute in North Carolina, where I froze so spectacularly at my poetry reading. I’m to record my poem onto a CD, in the privacy of a soundproofed booth. I’ll be completely alone and have headphones on. If I wish, I can even sell copies through the Poetry Institute.
My heart fills as I think of the CD he keeps hidden away of his mother singing, made long before she married, that he plays often.
There’s a note inside from my old professor wishing me luck, and another in Savoy’s elegant, handwriting sending me her love. And on the back of the envelope is another, in Darnley’s own handwriting.
It’s a poem. It’s also a joke. He’s used the line I threw at him when we met back in the summer but he’s turned it into a love poem of his own:
I crave control and cannot tell you why
I need you so. I dread the day you’ll fly
Away and find some other guy.
‘I’m no poet’, he says softly. ‘But it kind of fits.’
His rueful grin melts my soul. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I whisper.
Later we head home. Darnley puts his arm round me and pulls me close.
‘Any plans for tonight?’ His soft murmur is almost lost in my hair as he buries his face in my neck and trails hot, hungry kisses around the base of my throat.
‘Plenty,’ I whisper. ‘You?’
‘You bet.’ He fingers my wrists, firmly clasped in their heavy white gold. I shiver as he stiffens, the symbols of my coming submission already apparently working on his vivid imagination.
They’re working on mine, too. I can feel a slow pulse starting to build as I nestle close. And as the car’s privacy screen lowers and he takes charge of my mouth I wonder fleetingly if this is one of the happiest evenings of my life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Back at the beach house, the happy part of the happiest evening of my life ends abruptly at the precise second he pours us a drink.
‘I’ve been meaning to say this for a while, Ella. I think we should cancel the wedding. Until all this blows over – the intruder, these attacks. The sex attacks round here.’
I wind my arms round his waist. ‘But that’s not you. You said one took place while you were being questioned. Surely that makes you innocent?’
‘Does it?’ He places an arm around my shoulders as he looks out over the bay. The ocean is in darkness, the horizon a thin line etched in silver. It fades as the moon disappears behind a cloud.
‘Ella, had it occurred to you we’re looking at this the wrong way round? Suppose I am the attacker? Suppose I’m even the intruder?’ He downs his drink and stares at me, his eyes full of despair. ‘I could be doing these things without knowing.’
I frown. ‘But the police said –’
He sets down his glass and frowns, like he’s coming to a decision. ‘I know what they said. But how can they be sure, until they get him? I’ve been having these blackouts. A few minutes, an hour? Fuck knows. I blink and all at once I can’t remember where I am, or why. Maybe I’m going crazy.’
He was standing in front of his ruined picture, holding a knife …
‘The wedding’s off. You’d be living with a killer.’
I swallow. ‘According to you I already am living with a killer. Not that I believe that for a minute. Fine, cancel the wedding. But you have to see a therapist.’
Here we go again.
He runs his hands through his hair. ‘No way. I told you before, no shrinks. We all agreed. I’ve heard about what those guys can do. If they start messing in my head fuck knows what’ll come out.’
‘It’s already out,’ I say crisply. ‘Plus – you promised. This thing’s poisoned your life long enough. You have to get help. Real help. A professional.’
I’m losing patience. It’s not every day you learn your wedding’s cancelled. But then, it’s not every day your fiancé tells you he thinks he’s a sex pest …
But he’s adamant. His eyes flash in the moonlight. ‘For the last time, Ella. I. Do. Not. Need. Help.’
He’s under stress, I tell myself. Make him relax. Go on, think of something …
I take his hand. ‘It’s late. Let’s try another kind of help.’ I lift his hand and place it slowly on my left breast. For a second he cups it in his palm, his grip growing firm as I smile up at him through my lashes. Silently he eases my gown down a little way and then pushes me backwards towards the sofa. All at once he’s on top of me, his mouth fastened on mine, his hands everywhere, his breathing ragged. When he pulls away he looks down at me, his expression hungry. ‘Are you scared, Ella? Scared of me?’
I hold his gaze. ‘A little. You’re being weird.’
‘So what’s new? You never complained before.’ His fleeting grin catches me off guard. All at once we’re playing.
He pulls me up onto his lap. I lay my forehead against his and lean my arms on his shoulders as he crushes the skirt of my soft satin gown so he can bare my thighs. I can feel the heat from his crotch close to my soft inner skin as his powerful legs tense under mine.
He finds my mouth once more, winding his hand behind my head so I can’t escape. His tongue fills me, his lips harden on mine as he lingers, unwilling to break our kiss, like it’s giving him refuge.
After long moments he pulls away, but prolongs our contact by keeping his lips deliberately close, brushing along mine with light, soft touches that make me tingle.
‘You’re still wearing the bracelets.’
As he speaks his breath shimmers on my lips. The sudden edge to his tone spritzes my nerve-endings. I shiver.
‘That means I do the talking and you do everything else.’
Something about this is sca
ry, and also very hot. Now light but unmistakable flexes of his muscles hint what he wants. I slide off his lap and kneel between his thighs. He watches me with a lazy smile, stroking my face absently, his expression thoughtful. ‘Can we make it the full home run, Ella? Just this once? I’m kind of edgy tonight.’
My heart fills. Edgy’s the least of it. At least we’re back somewhere I know. Playtime just got fun again. Gently I free him and fondle him a little, thrilling to the faraway look that steals into his eyes as I run my fingertip over his tight, hot, erection.
I peer up at him through my lashes. ‘Any special requests, sir?’
His sudden smile thrills my soul as he spreads his legs a little wider and leans back a little to give me nuzzling room.
‘Just this.’ He strokes my face again, but I sense a new sharpness in his tone. The bracelets come with conditions. And this is one of them.
As I take him a little way into my mouth I pull back to lick him a little, letting the tip of my tongue play and tease him openly so he can see, and then I lunge forward and set up a rhythm.
As ever the hot shaft filling my mouth is nowhere near as hot as him watching me do it. Soon I’m burning up with impatience, aching for him. I resist the urge to clamber onto his lap right now and insist. He really needs this.
I do my best to ignore my own needs, growing urgent now down where my swollen places throb and twitch. Instead I speed up, taking him deep for the home run he craves …
All at once his eyes snap open and he eases out of my mouth. ‘Ella?’ he says softly. ‘What am I thinking? Come up here. Let’s do this properly.’
Wondering, I quit his glossy erection with a fond, reverent kiss and climb willingly into his arms. I wind my arms around his head and pull him close but he reaches up and captures my hands, forcing my arms back behind me.
‘What’s this? Making your own decisions?’