“Not a good idea, trust me.”
Nor was sitting on the knee of a seminaked sex god, nor was video conferencing sexperts, if that was what you called them. Even if they did appear to be reassuringly normal. Even if they were enthusiastic and everything seemed above board. Even if it was the only way he was offering out of the mess.
“They can come and look around next week and I’ll decide then.”
“Nope, tomorrow.”
“Sorry?”
“Tomorrow. They’ll come tomorrow and tell me if they think the place would work for them, and you can tell me if you want to give it a go or move on. Then we’ll sign the paperwork. One way or another.” He stretched around her, pressing his body even closer as he typed in the web address of the business. “This is the website and these”—he scribbled on a business card and pushed it into her hand—“are the admin login details.” His arm brushed her breast, making her skin tingle, as he ran his finger down the side of the screen. “Once you’re logged in you can see these training videos, sessions they’ve run. Have a look at what they do.”
“Saul, why rush? Can’t I have a bit of time to think?”
“Why wait? You’re either up for it or you aren’t, Roisin. I’m sorry about this whole thing, but I gave your husband several months’ leeway and he still defaulted on his last few months’ rent, even on this very generous agreement. I’ve got to drive down to the office to sort some urgent business out and then I’ll be back tomorrow with Dan and Marie. And you can decide.” His tone was soft, but there was something about it that made her look, meet his gaze. It was almost like he was daring her, throwing her a challenge he didn’t expect her to rise to. Almost like he was doing it to make himself feel better, offering a way out that he knew she couldn’t, wouldn’t take.
He stood up, broke the contact, and kissed her on the nose. “I’ll let myself out, leave you to do some research. Up to you; you can take it or leave it, your choice.”
***
Roisin stared at the screen. Dan and Marie, the sexperts. She bit the inside of her cheek. She felt like she was being bullied into something, cornered, but she didn’t quite get it. He’d thrown down the gauntlet; she’d seen it in his eyes. But why? Why make an offer he didn’t want her to take up? It was almost like he had to, he felt compelled to throw a lifeline, but if she didn’t grab it quick then he was going to reel it in before she could change her mind.
Which made her want to go for it. Despite a niggling at the back of her mind saying that she shouldn’t trust him. What was it her dad had said? That old mantra about these brash young City types spelling bad news in capital letters; all go-getters who trample everyone underfoot, money merchants who bleed you dry and ruin your family as they crawl up the slippery slope to the top, not caring who they destroy on the way. Men who just want to make money. Louts who want to change the world to suit them. Oh, she’d heard it so many times, in so many ways. But he’d been proved right; they’d as good as loaded the gun and pointed it at his head. And if she did this she’d be going to bed with the enemy. Not that she hadn’t already. Her choice.
***
Her eyes drifted reluctantly down the list of video titles; she couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop herself. Fingers and Tongues, Dirty Talk, Hands On, What He/She Really Wants, Spanking (Starter), Ménage, Bondage (Lesson Two), Masturbation, Toys (Part One), Rough Play…She didn’t want to look, didn’t want to get drawn into playing his game. Why was he giving her this option to stay? Why wasn’t he just throwing her out?
She pulled the laptop lid down, snapping it shut decisively. She needed time to think, and he wouldn’t give it to her. And he wouldn’t give her any other choice. It was this or nothing. And he didn’t think she’d take this. Not here in the land of raised eyebrows. A smile teased at her insides. It would certainly give them all something to talk about, change the pitying gossip into something more heated.
She poured a glass of wine; let the cool liquid slide down her throat. She’d have a drink, read a book. Relax. Then decide, in her own time, for her own reasons. She knocked off the kitchen light and glanced back. The power light shone out at her from the front of the laptop. No, she mustn’t. She really mustn’t get involved in this before she’d decided. What was he doing? Making her an offer she couldn’t refuse, or one she couldn’t accept? She wasn’t sure if even he knew which.
Chapter 4
Face it, she had to admit defeat, and put the bloody book down and stop kidding herself she was reading it. She dropped the thing on the bed; all it was doing was giving her an arm ache. It might as well have been in Russian, or upside down, for all the distraction it was providing. She focused; it wasn’t upside down, which was some kind of consolation.
Damn it, and damn Saul bloody Mathews. She had to look at that website. She seemed to have spent most of the last twenty-four hours in a state of arousal, orgasm, or postorgasm exhaustion, and then he’d left her with a library of sex videos to look at. And she felt so bloody horny that she couldn’t think straight. Let alone lie still. Maybe it was some kind of new business strategy: shag your enemy until they’re too exhausted to think straight and too randy to concentrate. Dammit, she needed a vibrator. A big one, preferably rechargeable.
She groaned. Christ, was it only a day since she had met him? One day that had taken her from wondering how to move on from Toby’s betrayal, to being shagged senseless by a man who’d found every erogenous zone she didn’t know she possessed. One video had destroyed the illusion that was her marriage and now one hunk of testosterone had trampled roughshod over every other certainty in her life. And suggested she run a sex business. Here. In the middle of a countryside that was more about wearing wellingtons and discussions about baking and crafts than sex and spanking. Shit. Maybe it was just her. Maybe wild sex was going on in every hedgerow in Cheshire and she just hadn’t been invited to the party? From what she had seen, Toby had certainly been invited; oh yeah, he’d been at party after bloody party. Although, come to think of it, what the hell had she been doing in the field today? Okay, so she’d eventually received her invitation, or at least gate-crashed the party. And she wasn’t ready to leave yet.
Maybe Saul had screwed with her brain as well as her body, but from where she stood there were two options. Option one: bye-bye home, bye-bye riding school, and hello hostel for the homeless. Or option two: admit to losing your marbles.
And anyway, hadn’t he said she didn’t have to be part of it, she just had to take the money and check everyone was happy? Deliriously, orgasmically happy. Easy. And she could do the one thing he never expected her to. Call his bluff and wipe that self-satisfied smirk right off his sexy face. Or she could let him off the hook. Let him win. Give up. Watch him sell the last bits of her life to the highest bidder and leave her with nothing. Argh! She pulled the sheet up over her head.
Well, screw him. She was sick of letting men have all the fun, men telling her what to do, sick of everyone telling her how she should behave. And sick of wondering what she should do next. And she really had to see what this sex therapy business was all about.
***
The soft satin of the nightgown caressed her thighs as she padded across the landing, sending a shiver of something straight down to the base of her stomach. Every sound echoed in the kitchen, and it suddenly felt far too large and strangely exposed. She grabbed the laptop and hugged it to her, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl about to have a midnight feast, and decided the intimacy of the study was a far better place to do her exploring.
The soft leather of the swivel chair molded warmly around her body and she ran a finger over suddenly dry lips, capturing the tip between her teeth and flicking her tongue over it, suddenly hesitating as the anticipation curled inside her. For a brief moment she closed her eyes, sucked the tip of her finger. But all she could see was him, Saul. Sucking her fingers, the warmth of his mouth and the flick of his tongue
teasing her and sending a need she didn’t know she still had coursing through her body. She snapped upright, dropping her hands into her lap. This wasn’t about him, this was about her. Her future. So far, her plan for sorting a new life out wasn’t going too well; the page was still blank, apart from completing Sam’s first task—“have wild monkey sex with the first man you see.” Yay, she was a success. Sam would be proud—that was if she ever dared fess up. And Sam, if she was here, wouldn’t be hesitating about getting involved with this whole sex therapy business; she would be powering up and pressing “go.” But she wasn’t Sam. Oh well, just get on with it, girl.
She opened the lid; the laptop sprung into life and her stomach did a flip. All she could hear was her own heartbeat thundering in her ears. She’d have one quick look to see what it was all about; one look so she could check whether Saul was just winding her up, or whether he was dragging her into some weird, kinky world that had more whips and spurs than her own yard did. She ran the mouse up and down the list. Well, weird and kinky world, here I come.
***
“Bend over there, now.” Roisin jumped as the low, silky command filled the small room, sending the mouse spinning across the desk. Her pussy clenched in response as the picture flooded the screen, as the girl meekly leaned forward over the padded bench, long, slim legs stretched in a perfect V that led from sinfully high heels up to a smooth, rounded bare bottom, a thin, black thong snaking up between the cheeks.
Her nails curled into the leather arms of the chair as a rush of heat burned across her skin. She bit her lip. The pale buttocks were clenching and releasing in what had to be anticipation, and Roisin’s nipples hardened in response, peaking against the satin of her gown. A large hand was squeezing gently, a hand that looked so capable, so inviting, so much like the hand that Saul had touched her with, and she tensed expectantly for the touch, her hips shifting on the chair.
A shiver ran across her skin; she pushed back deeper into the leather as the hand rubbed firmly over the soft mounds of skin and the girl whimpered, sending a zing of want straight between Roisin’s hot thighs. She squirmed in the seat, trying to ease the familiar ache that was starting to build.
“Spread your legs wider, now.” The voice was softer but firm, almost familiar, with an edge of control that you didn’t argue with, the type of voice she remembered from her days at the private all-girls school as that one vicious teacher had instructed the girls to touch their toes, swishing his cane through the air impatiently. A sound that brought back the sense of fear and excitement, encouraged the heady race of hormones.
The girl obediently edged her thighs wider apart, and Roisin felt her own part as a second man edged into camera shot, a man she instantly recognized. Dan, the male half of the therapy business. He put a steadying hand on the girl’s back and a visible shiver ran over the body, her buttocks tightening and lifting as she gasped.
“Such a naughty girl.” His voice was softer, more sensual than the other man’s. He trailed his finger along her spine so she quivered and a soft moan filled the air. The finger came to an abrupt halt when it reached the black lace. Roisin felt a rush of heat to her pussy as the caramel tones ran through her body. “Naughty, naughty girl. So we are just going to have to punish you. You want to be punished, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
The breathless word made Roisin squirm once more, her breath quickening.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, er, please?” The soft voice had a hint of a tremble in it, and the girl’s fingers tightened on the edge of the bench.
He tilted his head slightly and nodded toward the other man, a shadowy figure tantalizingly out of view, with a slow smile. “I think you should spank your naughty wife, don’t you?”
The man seemed to hesitate, running his hand over the tense buttocks again, caressing and gently kneading, his fingers pressing to leave small indents in the soft flesh. He slowly lifted his hand, held it in the air only inches away. Roisin’s heart pounded in her chest, and her breath caught in her throat as her breathing, their breathing, wrapped around her in the small room.
The sound of a slap suddenly rang out and she took a sharp intake, clamping her thighs together as the girl yelped. The hand lifted, came down again, on the other cheek this time, the sound echoing around her. Roisin’s gaze fixed on the red mark left on each pale buttock and her tongue snaked out to dampen suddenly dry lips, her hands reaching up to close around her breasts.
The blows fell steadily, and with each slap Roisin’s pussy clenched and she squeezed her tits in time, her fingers tightening around her nipples while the girl cried out in a mixture of pain and need as her bottom gradually changed color to a hot, burning red. She couldn’t take her eyes off the hand as it rose and fell; the hand that had been so gentle, so sensuous, now hard and demanding. She tweaked and pulled harder at each growing bud, squeezing and twisting until a thrill of pain shot through her, until her pussy started to pulse. The bottom was glowing, the girl squirming against the leather of the couch she was leaning over. She was panting, her legs had drifted farther apart, exposing a pussy that was glistening damp with her juices as she alternately moaned, and then cried out, writhing and lifting her bottom in anticipation, kicking out her legs.
A damp trickle of juices coated Roisin’s thighs as she clenched them together, and she pressed back, rubbing her slit against the soft leather of the chair. The girl was begging, rolling her hips as the next blow fell. She reached down, the satin of the gown slipping apart over her drenched thighs, her swollen labia already parted and ready for her finger as she leaned back in the chair, and it could have been Saul on the video, Saul bending lower, his broad, familiar back to the camera. Roisin gasped as her finger slipped in deeper, her pussy grasping as the man with dark curls swam in front of her sex-blurred vision. Saul. It was Saul. Then he was gone and the girl was squirming and she could have imagined it. It couldn’t be Saul; it was just her mind wanting him, imagining him. Imagining the man who’d had her writhing beneath him in the stable was now spanking the girl’s bottom. Her hot, glowing bottom. Spanking her until she cried out, until she squirmed with pain, until her throbbing clit, her swollen pussy were dripping with juices and begging to be touched.
She closed her eyes, hearing the slaps, the moans, as she reached deeper inside her slickness with two fingers. She pushed in a third, opened her thighs wider, sliding down on the chair and lifting her hips as she reached higher inside, curling her hand to caress the spot she knew would make her come. He was spanking the girl; Saul was making her moan and wriggle on the padded bench. She fucked harder with her fingers.
Her pussy was trembling, pulsing, as she thrust her fingers in and out, desperate to fill herself. She ran her other hand down over her stomach, the way the man had rubbed that pale bottom before he’d started spanking it to crimson, the way Saul had stroked every inch of her own pale body.
The contact making her gasp and arch her hips, she rubbed just above her mound, hearing her own sigh. She reached down farther, wanting to find her swollen clit as Saul had, wanting to make herself ache again with the urgency he’d created. Soft gasps in the background broke into her mind as she became dimly aware that the sound of spanking had stopped, replaced by urgent moans, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t need to see anything, just needed to feel her fingers inside her swollen pussy, to remember how it had felt last night, this morning. She could hear his silky voice urging her on, telling her to come, telling her to let go.
She pressed more firmly against the hot, swollen bud of her clit with one finger, pressing harder and deeper with her other hand, feeling her warm juices dribble down her fingers, onto her wrist. He was urging her on, demanding she give in and come.
Her pussy was clenching at her fingers, and she rocked her hips, clutching at her hand as she flicked her fingers alternately. Then the shudders were coming faster and shock waves of pure pleasure rocketed th
rough her body. Roisin dropped her head back against the chair and arched her back as she cried out, desperate to milk every last pulse from her body.
***
“Wow.”
“Shit.” She shot upright and whirled around at the soft voice, nearly falling off the chair at the sight of solid muscle just inches away. Saul. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Heat surged to her face and she dragged at the gown, trying to wrap it back around her with hands that didn’t seem to work anymore, and the smell of her arousal swam around her fingers, filling the air. Fuck. She slammed her thighs back together. Yeah, as though that was going to make any difference.
His hand slid over her shoulder, rested warm against her breast. “I couldn’t stay away.” The break in his voice sent a wave of goose bumps down her body.
“Don’t.” Her hand caught his to stop his steady rub against her nipple, which was already hard.
But he didn’t stop; he caught hold of her hand, her damp hand, and lifted it to his mouth, taking one finger between firm lips and slowly sucking, sending a clutch of need deep into her stomach. Her pussy was trembling; her fingers were never enough. She needed him inside her to finish the job she’d started.
“You smell gorgeous, taste gorgeous.” He reached over with his other arm, parting the satin that she’d tried desperately to pull over herself. Ran a finger up the inside of her wet thigh, thighs that parted wider instinctively.
***
Saul could almost feel his throat dry out as he watched her. Shit, he knew he’d told her to watch the videos but he didn’t think she would. And he didn’t think she’d watch that one. One he’d hated, until now. But the video didn’t matter. She did.
He knew he should say something, let her know he was there, just knew he should. But he daren’t stop her; eyes shut, her face soft with arousal, and her lips parted with need. It didn’t matter really what she was watching. The only thing that mattered was the way she looked, the way she smelled. He just couldn’t speak, break the spell, as she twisted her hips, his cock hardening in response as the silky fabric slipped farther apart, revealing more of her damp thighs, more of the softly rounded stomach that he needed to touch. But when she moaned and started to shudder with satisfaction he couldn’t stand back any longer; he had to touch her, had to bury himself in that sweet smell that had been playing havoc with his senses, dragging him closer.
Riding High Page 6