Megan's Story, A Bentley Sisters Novel

by Lauren Beaumont

  “Are you really afraid of them?” he asked. “Truly? I know it might not be something you’d look forward to, but as long as you’re sensible then there wouldn’t be any reason for me to come near your bottom anyway. Unless,” he added, “in time, you wanted to see what a spanking designed for your pleasure was like,” he trailed off.

  Despite her protests, fuelled by embarrassment, she felt a gush of wetness seep into her panties and her nipples, already engorged, poked even more insistently against her blouse. Interesting, he thought to himself, making a mental note to himself for future reference.

  “One other thing, Megan,” he said, “Don’t ever lie to me.”

  Confused, she protested immediately, “But I haven’t, I wouldn’t— what makes you think I would?”

  “Certainly don’t lie to me about what you’ve been doing; I don’t want to hear from someone else that you’ve had problems with Ramone, or anyone else, which you haven’t told me about. But also,” he went on smoothly, his hands beginning to explore the silken length of her legs, just above the hemline of her skirt, “don’t lie to me about what does or doesn’t turn you on. I can feel the way your body responds and you shouldn’t feel embarrassed about anything, not with me.”

  “I can’t help it,” she whispered. “I— I’ve never... that is, no one has ever....”

  “Spanked you?” he asked, “Told you that you’re accountable for your actions, even if you think they only affect you?”

  More embarrassed now than she had ever been, she nodded mutely.

  He gathered her to him. “Megan, I know. I could tell. It was obvious from your reaction this afternoon that, at least as an adult, you’d never been spanked. But that’s me, Megan. I believe in it. I believes it works. And you know,” he added, “it might surprise you just how many men and women, out there believe in it too and have happy, stable relationships as a result. And as for the other kind of spankings,” he lowered his head slightly to press a light kiss to her nose, “let’s just see what happens in time. It’s up to you and I’d never force you into doing anything you’re not comfortable with. All I ask is that if you want something,” he paused, “if your body is craving something, then you admit it and tell me and be honest to us both.”

  Megan’s mind was whirring, but all her body knew was that it felt so right to be gathered up close to Luke, pressed against him. She felt safe and secure and, odd though it sounded given that she had known him for such a short time, cherished.

  “Okay,” she murmured, “I’ll try.”

  Clearly pleased with himself, he grinned at her widely and pulled her to him again for another of his long kisses that left her body aching and screaming for him to take it further. But, after long minutes, he set her aside and reluctantly said to her, “I’m going to go. Come see me to the door and make sure you lock up when I go.”

  “Oh,” she said, as he stood up, “Aren’t you—” she trailed off, without the warm strength of his body to reassure her, she suddenly felt insecure, not knowing what he would or wouldn’t expect from her.

  “Stay longer?” he guessed at what had been going through her mind.

  He smiled down at her and, grasping her arms, gently pulled her to her feet so that he could kiss her again.” Not tonight,” he said. “Much as I’d like to.” He pulled her tightly to him so that she could feel the outline of his erection pressing insistently against the zipper of his trousers, demanding attention. “I’ve put a lot on you tonight and that’s probably not entirely fair of me. You need to get some sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow anyway over the documents for Michael and Ramone, but aside from that, how about we have dinner on Friday?”

  Relieved that she hadn’t completely misjudged the situation and strangely comforted that he seemed to understand how muddled her brain was feeling right now and was giving her space to gather herself together again, she agreed and, after pulling her to him one last time, he took his leave, reminding her once again to lock up properly after him.

  CHAPTER 3

  Megan stretched out further on the sofa, clutching her now cold mug of coffee to her, lost in her thoughts. She grimaced. It was unlikely she was going to make any more progress on that agreement tonight.

  The last month had passed in a whirlwind. Luke had been everything she could ask for in a man. From the start, he’d been attentive, reassuring when she needed it and understanding of her concerns that she didn’t want to publicise their relationship to her work colleagues for the time being.

  That first week, he’d called her each day, sometimes genuinely to touch base on matters regarding their respective clients, but often just to see how she was and ask about her day. Initially, she’d found it odd; none of her old boyfriends had really seemed that concerned over the insignificant things that happened in her day, but Luke seemed genuinely interested, asking questions about the people she talked about, always making time for her if she called him, even if there was no real purpose for her call and they just chatted about insignificant things.

  He’d taken her out for dinner, as he’d suggested, on Friday evening. They’d gone to a tiny Italian restaurant in Notting Hill, away from the prying eyes of colleagues who tended to frequent the bars and restaurants in the financial district. Clearly, he knew the owner who, on their arrival, had come down and greeted Luke personally as an old friend.

  They’d been seated at one of the tables set away from the main dining room, which offered them more privacy and, with its vaulted ceilings and exposed brick walls, was the perfect romantic spot. Luke had ordered Chablis for them, obviously remembering from earlier that week what she liked and the time flew by and they chatted as if they had known each other for years rather than just days.

  She’d found herself recounting tales of her childhood, her and her sisters’ escapades, to him as he laughed and told her how he had only one sister who was a few years younger than him and it had been hard enough work keeping her in line, so he didn’t envy the job her parents had had with four girls!

  She had smiled, fondly remembering those years and confided that her parents had always been pretty easy going. Megan herself had always been quite headstrong but was hard working and conscientious and their youngest sibling Lily had known since she was a teenager that she wanted to become a teacher. Elise and Isabelle, however, had been more cause for concern with their artistic temperaments. Isabelle had been the party girl who, as a teenager and into her twenties, had tried to out-party not only all her other sisters but also anyone who happened to be in the vicinity. She’d calmed down a lot now and was a successful writer, but there were times when Megan still worried. Elise had always sought her adventures in a different way. As an award-winning photographer, her work took her to far-flung places, as she endeavoured to photograph wildlife in their natural habitat. Most recently, she’d been on a trip to remote parts of Kenya where she’d been taking breathtaking shots of lions and their prey. Megan didn’t even like to think how close Elise must have been to her subject matter in order to get those shots; Elise was far braver than Megan would ever be. Luke hadn’t been as impressed and she could see from his expression that he wanted to give another lecture on safety and danger, but thankfully he hadn’t dwelled on it.

  Later that night, he’d insisting on escorting her home and accompanied her in the cab and when she’d asked, slightly hesitant, as she wasn’t keen to have him reject her offer, whether he’d like to come in, he’d sent the cab away and escorted her inside.

  As they headed into the living room she’d kicked off her high heeled strappy sandals that had seemed like such a good idea a few hours before but that were by then killing her feet and she sank down into the sofa with relief as Luke laughed at her and sat down next to her, drawing her feet up onto his lap beginning to massage them slowly.

  Even now, she flushed at the memory of what had followed. Luke’s sensuous massage, starting with the balls of her feet, had slowly pressed into the sore spots and eased the pain with tiny circular mo
tions, working his way to her ankles and calves, pressing and kneading, working magic with his fingers all the way up to her knees, stroking her flesh until she was burning up. It felt so good.

  By that point, she’d been practically lying horizontal on the sofa as he bent over her, on his journey of exploration up and down the length of her legs, constantly finding tiny pressure points to massage and manipulate and then inch by inch pushing up the hem of the silken dress she had worn to begin the ascent up her now quivering thighs. She remembered gasping, she remembered moaning with pleasure, even before he’d touched her intimately. But then, when his fingers had traced the outline of her panties and delved under the lace edging to explore further, deeper, more insistently, all she knew was that she was a mass of need, incapable of intelligent thought, simply able to feel. And when he’d removed the damp scrap of lace from her hips and she’d felt his tongue replace his fingers and continue its exploration, circling her opening and delving inside her, plundering her again and again while his fingers, with the lightest of touches, traced tiny circles over her clitoris, she hadn’t been able to voice any protest and, instead, had shattered.

  Even as she’d lay gasping for breath on the sofa, he’d allowed her no respite, picking her up as if she were no heavier than a rag doll and carrying her into the bedroom, where he’d placed her carefully on the bed, turning away from her only to dispose of his clothing before he’d returned to her, obviously uninhibited about his naked state despite the fact that she was still clothed. Suddenly self-conscious, she began to try and push her dress back down over her hips from where it had gathered at her waist.

  “Don’t,” he’d commanded, taking her hand to prevent her shielding herself from him. “I told you, I don’t want to you to be embarrassed at anything that happens between us and that includes your body. You’re beautiful,” he’d added simply as he’d simultaneously lowered the straps of her dress over her shoulders, revealing her full breasts to him, unfettered by a bra, so that her dress lay gathered around her stomach and she was on display to him.

  “Never, ever, be embarrassed. Not of this. Not with me,” as his lips had descended to one rosy, engorged nipple, pulling at it lightly with his teeth, sucking it and scraping it with his tongue before turning his attention to its twin.

  She’d reached down, trying to grasp him, wanting to return some of the pleasure he had given her, but he’d caught her hands in his and raised them over her head, holding her wrists together in one on his hands while his other hand continued its torment of her breasts. “There’s time enough for that later,” he’d said, “for now, just let me give you the pleasure.”

  “I think you’ve already done that,” she’d joked weakly.

  He’d grinned and his free hand had delved down further between her thighs again, caught the warm wetness that was gathered there amongst her folds and brought it up to his lips. “Hm. I think that that was just the warm up and there’s much better to come.”

  He’d brought her to the edge of a climax again and again, using his hands and his mouth, teasing her by pressing his throbbing penis to her entrance but then, as she’d tried to raise her hips to him, to force him to enter her, to give her the penetration her body was craving, the sense of fullness that she yearned for, he’d denied her and grasping her hips to keep them mid-air, delivered a lightly playful slap to each of her buttocks.

  It wasn’t hard, she’d known it wasn’t intended to hurt, but to her horror the sensation, combined with his recent assault on her clitoris, sent her hurtling over into intense pleasure, as her internal muscles spasmed, contracting violently, seeking to grip at the hard length she wanted but that she had been denied. She’d barely registered the shock, the flicker of pleasure in his eyes, as he realised what was happening and quickly, firmly but tenderly, pushed his fingers inside her and rocked them back and forth, knowing that it wasn’t a substitute, but needing to give her body some of the relief and the fullness, it so desperately sought.

  As the contractions had slowly subsided, he’d gathered her close to him, kissing her gently. He’d removed the dress that was still caught around her waist and tucked her body next to him, stroking her back in slow soothing motions. He’d rocked her, sensing that she needed the reassurance, that the pleasure had been almost too much and knowing with near certainty that she hadn’t expected to react to his playful spanks in the way she had any more than he had anticipated such an explosive response.

  It wasn’t until much later that night, when her body was soft and pliant from his touch that he moved his body above hers and pushed inside her. Even though, after all his intimate caresses, her body couldn’t have been more prepared for him, she had stilled automatically as she’d felt him enter her. Although she had been wet and needy for him, craving this act, he was long and thick, bigger than anything her limited experience had encountered. As the crest of his penis had pushed just an inch or two inside her and he’d felt how tight she was, sheathing him like a glove, he’d paused, giving her body time to adjust and her muscles a chance to relax and adapt to his size.

  Tension had lined his face, but he hadn’t moved. “Are you okay,” he’d asked, “am I hurting you? I can stop.”

  Her eyes had widened in horror that he could even think about stopping now and she’d clutched at his hips trying to draw him into her further. “Please. More— don’t stop.”

  His hand reached down to where they were joined and tenderly spread her wetness through her folds to help ease his way and then, with a groan and one thrust of his hips, pushed into her again all the way to the hilt.

  She couldn’t remember ever feeling so full and as he’d begun to thrust again and again, withdrawing and then powering back into her body, she felt the achy pressure build up again, the need for release rising within her. “Please,” she pleaded.

  “Tell me what you want. What do you need,” he’d demanded of her, without breaking the rhythm he’d set up.

  “I don’t know, it’s too much... just...”

  “Tell me, Megan. What does your body want?” he whispered, as with one hand he reached down and tugged her nipple, watching it harden again at his touch.

  “That. More of that...”

  He pulled at her again. “Just that? Nowhere else?”

  Damn him. He’d been determined to make her say it. Make her describe to him exactly where she most needed his touch, exactly why she needed it.

  He’d continued to rock back and forth into her, but had slowed the pace infinitesimally, so that deliberately it just wasn’t quite enough on its own to send her over the edge.

  “Say it, Megan. I want to hear the words.”

  She’d given in. The need was too great, the effect of his touch was more than she could take. “I need to come,” she’d pleaded.

  The fingers that had pulled on her nipples began to move with a feather light touch to circle her breasts. “Where, Megan? Where do you want me to touch you?” he’d whispered to her wickedly.

  “My clitoris,” she’d ground out, “Please, touch me there, make me come.”

  With a look of deep masculine satisfaction, his hand went to her throbbing clit, engorged and demanding attention and with just the right amount of pressure massaged the nub while at the same time his cock subtly shifted its angle inside her and began to hit a tiny bundle of nerves deep inside her. With a series of loud sobs she had climaxed longer, harder than she had ever thought possible. Within seconds, her muscles’ uncontrolled internal milking of his cock sent him to his own, much awaited, pleasure, as with a guttural groan of pure satisfaction he’d thrust inside her one last time and spilled into her.

  * * * * *

  “Enough,” Megan thought to herself. This was getting her nowhere fast. Sure, the sex was amazing. If she’d thought that first time was incredible, then the last month had been like living in a dream world.

  In so many ways she was happier than she had ever been. In such a short space of time he’d become a tower of strength on w
hich, for the first time in her life, she wasn’t afraid to lean, was learning the joy of relying on someone else and knowing that that person would be there for her unconditionally. She loved all her family and they all loved her, unconditionally, but she’d never wanted to be the one who poured her problems on to them. She’d rather be the person to whom people came with their troubles, not the other way round.

  With Luke it was different. He expected her to share her troubles with him and she knew that he was disappointed in her if he thought she hadn’t leaned on him when she should. In fact, she acknowledged, it didn’t even feel like she was burdening him when she shared those troubles with him.

  But at the same time, that worried her. She’d worked long and hard to get where she was, both personally and professionally and the person that she had thought she’d been a month ago was no longer the Megan she saw when she looked in her mirror each morning.

  She probably looked the same. Hell, she probably looked better, happier and more relaxed. But in her mind she didn’t feel like the absolutely independent, self-sufficient person that she had prided herself on being for so long.

  Now, she felt his absence if for some reason she and Luke hadn’t been able to catch up at the end of a day and chat about the significant and insignificant things that had been going on. Never had she felt anything like an absence of that kind before. If her old boyfriends hadn’t been available, it had been irrelevant, as she’d been quite happy in her own company.

  She was frustrated at herself, caught up in a conflict of emotions. On the one hand it irritated her that Luke thought he had the right to tell her what to do, to issue what she viewed as orders. Okay, it wasn’t as if he tried to run her life, or interfere in anything she really wanted to do, he was just protective and had a low tolerance for anything he viewed as a lack of respect for their relationship. And that was the problem, because deep down, there was a big part of her that was drawn by that commanding, dominant side of him, that took comfort in knowing that he cared and that, with him, she couldn’t neglect her health or wellbeing the way she knew she sometimes had done in the past, because he wouldn’t allow it.