Hard Choices

by Ashe Barker

  Eva looks from me, to Summer, then back again. “I don’t know Summer very well, but I think Ashley does. Will you mention this to her?”

  “Who? Ashley or Summer?”

  “Well, either, or both, I suppose.”

  “Ashley first, probably. Do you think she’d consider it?”

  Eva’s answer is immediate, certain, “Yes, I think she would. She and Ashley go back a few years. I won’t go into the details because it’s Ashley’s story to tell, and I’m sure she will, but the bottom line is she feels that Summer did her a big favour back then. If she wants the job, I reckon it’s as good as hers.”

  By unspoken agreement we drop the subject as Summer joins us at our table, and picks up her wine glass. Eva leans forward to refill it.

  “Lovely party. What were you two discussing just then? Looked serious.” Summer looks from me to Eva and back again as she asks her question.

  I wave airily, and by way of diversion ask Eva what plans Ashley and Tom have for a honeymoon. The happy couple are doing the rounds of their guests, and watching her across the marquee I can’t help thinking that Ashley looks tired.

  “They’re spending a fortnight in Side, in Turkey, at her father’s hotel. Then I think Tom’s booked a Mediterranean cruise. The cruise is a surprise, so not a word to Ash. But not immediately. They’re holding off for a month. Quite a lot going on here just now and I know Tom doesn’t want to be away until after the wind farm finance issue is settled. It’s his project really. He’s put in a lot of effort steering it all through planning.”

  My ears prick up. “Nick mentioned the wind farm. I think he may be considering investing in it.”

  Eva nods. “That’s good, it all helps. I hope he has deep pockets, though—we’re still about five million short. We could raise the gap funding from the banks, and if necessary I suppose we will. But no one wants to put this place or Black Combe up as collateral. So, Plan A is to raise as much as possible by attracting new investors.” She pauses to refill all our glasses now. “There’s a board meeting in two days, and that’s when the decision gets made, whether to approach the banks or continue to seek out the finance elsewhere.”

  Summer’s attention has been captured too. “Board meeting? What board?”

  Eva smiles. “Well, maybe that’s a grand term for it. It’s actually pretty informal. It’s the board of Darke Associates, and basically that consists of Tom and Nathan, me and Ashley. Grace occasionally turns up, and Dan if he’s around. The boardroom’s our kitchen. I gather Nick’s intending to be at the meeting this week, though, probably because he’s considering putting some money in.”

  My ears prick up, and my hands are quick to sign, “Would I be allowed to attend too? Who do I need to ask?”

  Eva looks at me, surprised. “Well, I daresay, as you’ll be in the house, you’d be welcome. It’s not as though we’d expect you to sit outside on the stairs. Perhaps the person you need to ask, though, is Nick.”

  And that’s just it, isn’t it? If—when—I ask Nick he’ll probably be fine about me being at the meeting, but he’ll naturally wonder why I want to be there. And I’ll have to tell him. A direct question, I can’t lie. Then, he’ll hit the roof. I’ve kept the truth, the full truth, to myself for so long now that I just know he’s going to go ballistic. He’ll see it as dishonesty, deliberate deceit. And he’ll be right. I know that the sooner I come clean now, the sooner he’ll apply whatever discipline he deems appropriate. And I have no illusions, it will be harsh. But eventually we’ll be able to move on.

  Unless he just dumps me. What if he decides I’m just too much hassle, that I never learn, that all his efforts are wasted on me? Since day one I’ve been under no illusions about the qualities he most values in a submissive, and honesty is right up there at the top of the list. He said he loves me, that he intends to claim me—indeed he already has. He wants to marry me. But he doesn’t really know me.

  “Freya? Freya, are you all right?” Summer’s worried voice breaks into my thoughts.

  I startle, then nod and sign that I’m fine. I sip my champagne thoughtfully, and turn to Eva. “I’ll ask Nick. And if it’s okay with him, and I want to speak at the meeting, will you translate for me?”

  “Yes, of course. Or I’m sure Nick would.”

  Well, that remains to be seen. Depends how pissed off with me he is when he finds out I’ve been sitting on forty-two million pounds that I sort of forgot to mention. But I smile, thank her, and we move on to chat about the delicious-looking buffet we’ve yet to sample, Ashley’s dress, and what a truly lovely wedding it’s been. I can’t remember the last time I had a normal conversation like this, one where all the others understand my signing and we don’t have that clumsy, stilted palaver of someone having to translate while everyone else waits politely for me. Yes, I do like this crowd. And just like Nick, setting all commercial considerations aside, that’s the main reason I want to buy into their business.

  For me the highlight of the day, apart from the actual ceremony, is Eva’s violin performance. Christ, she’s good. Even Rosie can manage a decent tune and together they do a rendition of Bolero, which I gather is a sort of family favourite. Then Eva plays another piece on her own, which she tells us is called Palladio. It sounds vaguely familiar, and when I mention that to Summer she tells me it was the theme tune to one of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies. After Palladio Eva decides to lighten the mood and kicks off the dancing with some country and western favourites. The Appleyards waste no time in getting started, prancing happily all over the floor in some sort of Yorkshire version of a barn dance. Soon we’re all swept up in the action, skipping up and down and whirling around madly as Eva belts out lively tunes on her fiddle, aided and abetted by a delighted Rosie.

  * * * *

  The morning after the wedding Nick and I are snuggled in our bed at Black Combe, and I’m still tingling from the three—or was it four—fabulous orgasms he’s just delivered. I was woken by the delicious sensation of his tongue on my clit. He’d started while I was still asleep and the throbbing nub was already swollen and standing to attention before I even knew the party was on. The moment he was sure I was awake, though, he revved up the action by sliding his fingers, two I think but it may have been three, deep into my pussy. I writhed under his hands, not sure if I was supposed to come or whether I should try to contain myself.

  “Come for me, sweetheart. Now.” Happily for me, Nick soon dispelled any uncertainty.

  His other hand was soon in play too, and I climaxed hard and fast as he slipped one long finger into my arse. I can’t believe I once resisted this intimacy. It really is truly and absolutely fabulous. Nick continued to nibble and suck at my clit and finger-fuck me very thoroughly indeed until the tremors from my orgasm finally died away. Then, leaning across me, he reached into the drawer in the bedside table.

  “That should hold you for a while. At least, long enough for me to get this on you.”

  I opened my eyes and saw the pretty little clit clip dangling between his fingers. Our normal accessories are safely stowed away back in Cartmel, but Nick did have the foresight to bring some of our smaller, more discreet items with him. There’ll be no impact play—not in someone else’s house, even a fellow Dom, and especially not with children about. But clit clips and nipple clamps, now those are innocuous enough. Especially behind a locked bedroom door.

  I lay still, my legs spread wide as Nick deftly slid the clip over my engorged clit. Then he lay between my legs at a right angle to me, propped on one elbow as he admired his handiwork.

  “Truly beautiful, my love. Would you like to see?”

  I nodded then watched as he slid from the bed and wandered, gloriously naked, across the room to retrieve a small round shaving mirror from the en suite.

  Nick spends far too little time naked, in my opinion, and I always appreciate the sight. He has a really, really hot body, beautiful in a wholly masculine way. His bum is small but so, so tight, the muscles defined as
he walks. His chest is hard, and looks sort of carved beneath the dusting of fine, brown hair, the nipples small and flat but still very sensitive when he lets me get my hands on them. Or better still my mouth.

  He smiled at me as he came back to the bed, completely aware of my scrutiny. “Like what you see, little subbie?”

  I nodded then smiled back as he dropped across the bed again, this time arranging the mirror and angling it to give me a perfect view of my decorated clit. “Me too. Especially this. What should we do with it now, do you think?”

  I lay back, my eyes closed, quite beyond thinking as the wealth of possibilities flooded my mind. Nick’s low chuckle was sexy, and was followed by the brush of cool air as he blew on the exposed tip. I quivered, clutching the duvet beneath me in my fists. The movement must have attracted his attention.

  “I’d like to tie your wrists to the bed. Are you likely to want to talk to me, do you think?”

  Then was not the time for conversation. Definitely no likelihood I would get chatty any time soon. I shook my head and obligingly lifted my hands to the headboard. Nick tied them there, making use of my silk stockings from yesterday. He considerately tucked a pillow under my left wrist to support it in comfort.

  “Perfect. Now, maybe a blindfold?”

  I nodded again. This time I felt the cool glide of silk across my face, and could smell Nick’s cologne. His tie, most likely. Whatever, I lay still, cocooned in darkness and restrained as I waited for the main event.

  Nick did not disappoint me. His touch was tender, light, the merest brush across the sensitive tip of my clit at first, then heavier as he began to rub, coaxing me quickly back to the brink of orgasm. This time, though, he drew back, again blowing on me as he waited for me to relax once more. No sooner was my body still, than he gently parted the lips of my pussy with his fingers, holding me open as he blew there as well before plunging his tongue inside, as deep as he could go.

  I tried to lie still, but was subconsciously thrusting against him, seeking the release he was promising me, desperate then for his hard, firm touch.

  He understood perfectly, as ever completely in tune with my response. “Be still, love. Hold it a little longer. It will be worth it, I promise.” The movements of his fingers and tongue slowed almost to a stop, and he was barely touching me, but I was acutely aware of even the slightest whisper of motion. Then, without warning, he took my engorged clit into his mouth, sucked hard, and held the tip between his teeth. His bite was light, not painful at all, but enough to hold my clit still while he flicked his tongue across it fast. I came, powerfully, my body arching from the bed as the waves of sensation pulsed through me. The starburst behind my eyes exploded into a firework display to rival yesterday’s evening celebrations over at Greystones. It seemed to me to continue almost as long, every glorious tingle intensified by the clip pressing sensuously on my clit. Nick slid three fingers into my pussy, and I’m sure it was three he pushed into my arse too. It felt so tight, I was so full. I twisted my wrists under the silk stockings, my plaster cast knocking against the wooden bedhead as I sought purchase, anything to ground me as I continued to spin out of control.

  Eventually, the tremors died, and he slid his fingers from my body, at last releasing my still helplessly engorged clit. Then he shifted to lay above me, his weight supported on his elbows.

  “Pull your knees up to your chest, love. Let me have your arse.” His voice was sexy, but commanding. I knew he expected me to obey immediately. I had no problem with that, and seconds later felt his thick cock slide right inside me, filling my arse fully, stretching me. He stopped for a moment, and the silk brushed across my face as he pulled the blindfold up to reveal my eyes.

  “Look at me, darling.”

  I managed to force my eyelids apart, though I just wanted to lay there under him and savour what he was doing to me. His gaze was deep and dark, his pupils so enlarged that the slate grey of his irises was almost gone, just a hint of the usual brilliant smokiness ringing the inky black pools.

  “I’m guessing you’re okay, sweetheart.” His smile was slightly lopsided.

  I managed the reassuring nod he seemed to require. He dropped a quick kiss on my forehead, then another less quick, on my mouth. I could taste my own juices on his lips, and on his tongue as it slid inside my mouth. It was exquisitely erotic, and I sucked eagerly, keen to share.

  Then, he started to thrust and I lost all sense of anything apart from the wicked, delightful sensations in my arse. Within moments it seemed I was bubbling fast towards orgasm again, pulsing and convulsing around his cock. He made no suggestion that I try to resist the inexorable pull, instead thrusting harder, deeper until I arched helplessly under him as I spun out into orbit again. He was still plunging his cock into me as my release faded, but his own was now building. His ragged breathing was close to my ear, then his muffled, “Sweet, holy fuck, Freya” as he gave one final, powerful surge forward then went still, buried deep inside me. His cock seemed to tighten, then there was the warm rush of his semen as it pumped into me. I love the feel of his cum inside me, in direct contact with my sensitive pussy or my hot, receptive arse.

  “Christ, I love you, baby. How did I ever imagine I could let some other Dom have you? You’re mine. Only mine.” His tone was low, almost a growl, a sexy, toe-curling snarl of possession. It required an answer.

  I could only nod, wishing then that my hands were free to respond more fully, either by touch or word. He knew, instantly he knew the moment I wanted to be released and reached up to untie the restraints. Then my hands were on his face as I kissed him hungrily, still aware of his cock impaling me, and loving the feeling of it there. It was long moments before he withdrew from me slowly, gently, then reached down between us to release the clit clip. Then, rolling onto his back, he pulled me across his chest and there I stayed.

  Chapter Twelve

  This is it. My moment. I’ll never get a better chance than this. Nick’s in a good mood. More than good. I’m about to wreck that, but at least it’ll be fresh in his mind why I’m worth the trouble. It’s most definitely fresh in mine.

  I’ve rehearsed this in my head a thousand times. I know exactly how I intend to start my confession. Once the first few words are out there, the rest will be outside my control. But the first few lines are clearly printed in my memory. I sigh, deeply, and press my hands against his chest to shove myself into a sitting position.

  “Keep still, baby. I think I might be dead.”

  Well, one of us might very well be, soon.

  His arms tighten around me, but I manage to slip away. Somehow. He opens one eye before reaching for me, intending to pull me back where he wants me. I stiffen, back away. The other eye opens.

  “Problem?”

  I drop my gaze. Too right there’s a problem. I take another deep, steadying breath, then lift my gaze back to his.

  My moment is wrecked by the trilling of Nick’s phone. He lifts one eyebrow in enquiry, and I know if I’d shaken my head he wouldn’t have taken the call. Instead, like a coward, playing for time, I gesture to him to go ahead. Big mistake. He reaches for his phone, casually dropped on the floor beside the bed, and hits the green icon on the touch screen.

  “Nick Hardisty.” His voice is clipped, businesslike. Who’d have thought only minutes earlier he had his cock deep in my arse. He listens for a few moments, then, “Is there no one else? What about Will? Or Mattie?” A few more moments’ silence at his end, then, “Okay, okay. But I’m a good couple of hours away. Could you put the first drop back, say till around one?”

  What? A good couple of hours away from where? From what?

  With a few more brief comments and a promise to be there by twelve, Nick finishes the call. He drops the phone back onto the floor before turning to me.

  “I’m sorry, love. I’ve got to go back. That was Pete. Pete Mason, the guy I franchise Lakes Sky to. Do you remember I said I occasionally help out if they’re a pilot short? Well, today they are. Two o
f the regular staff are off sick, and Pete has a corporate event booked in for today. Twenty-five executives all wanting to bond, and thinking a shared adventure with extreme sports might do the trick. Lots of money involved, it’d be a disaster for Pete if he can’t deliver. Do you mind, love?”

  I shake my head. Of course I don’t mind. No point minding, but it does rather take a coach and horses through my plans for today. No way can I drop my bombshell on him now, not when he’s about to spend the rest of the day swooping over the south lakes in a tiny aeroplane, or worse still leaping out of that plane with some whizz kid strapped to his chest. Instead, “How soon do we need to be off? I’d like to say goodbye to Ashley and Summer as well as Eva.”

  “No need for you to trail all the way back if you don’t want to. You’d only be bored anyway. Why don’t you stay here? I’ll be back by tomorrow.” He’s on his feet now and heading for the bathroom.

  I catch one last, delightful glimpse of his bum before he disappears. I follow him into the en suite, just as he’s stepping into the shower.

  “You joining me?” He holds out a hand in invitation.

  I shake my head sadly, lifting my still plastered wrist.

  “Ah, right. When does the pot come off then?”

  I perch on the edge of the toilet seat, settling down to watch the show as he seems to have no objections to an audience.

  “End of next week.”