“It’s just, that fellow at the bar, the blond man, the one who looks like a surfer,” Duncan said discreetly, knowing the description would give Patric the image of a man in thongs, loud trunks and a disheveled appearance, “he’s been staring at Brittany, and I believe he’s making her uncomfortable, am I right Brittany?”
“Yes, Duncan, a bit,” Brittany replied, “I mean, every time I risk a glance he’s looking at me,” and now I know why you wanted the scarf over my nipples. Good call, Duncan. We don’t want the sommelier to think I’d given that man an excuse to stare.
“He’s been there for some time, and I don’t know if he’s waiting for someone, or just lounging at the bar…” Duncan commented, allowing his voice to trail off.
“This will not do,” Patric frowned. “Please, do not worry, I will take care of this matter. I see he is not wearing a tie, and ties are required here. I’m surprised the concierge even allowed him entry. Please do not concern yourself further, Mr. Rhys-Davies, I will handle this,” and with a pronounced strut to his step, Patric Dupont marched across the room to the middle-aged, portly maitre de who had been captivated by Brittany’s nipples just a short time before.
“Wow,” Brittany said, suppressing a giggle, “that was masterful.”
“Thank you,” he smiled. “I have something in mind for you over our dinner, and it certainly couldn’t happen with that joker staring at you all night.”
“Something mind? Like what?” she pressed.
“You’re going to have an orgasm before we leave here tonight,” he said quietly, locking her eyes.
Brittany raised her eyebrows, staring back at him in astonishment.
“Very good,” Duncan remarked, “that’s the first time you haven’t shot back a question or a comment.”
“That’s only because I couldn’t think of anything to say,” she quipped.
“You are wearing the thigh-highs?” he asked.
“I am,” she said, then lifting her gaze she let out a small gasp. “Look over there.”
She had nodded her head in the direction of the door, and turning his head Duncan saw two large men, both dressed as waiters, escorting the blond man from the restaurant.
“They did that really well,” Duncan remarked. “You would never have known he was being kicked out of here.”
“I certainly wouldn’t argue with those guys,” she remarked.
“I can tell you fighting is not his style,” Duncan grimaced, “and now that he’s out of the way, we can begin. You will reach under the table, and as you rub yourself you will share with me a fantasy, and I want one of your own, not something from my book.”
Brittany felt her face blush red, but after surreptitiously checking her surroundings, she dropped her hand under the tablecloth and between her legs.
“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be flogged,” she breathed.
“What do you think it would be like?” he pressed.
“I don’t know. I’ve looked at pictures and there are so many different kinds of floggers, but the one that keeps jumping out at me is always black, and it looks heavy.”
“Uh-huh, the tongues are wide?”
“Yes, the tongues are wide,” she nodded, her finger moving quickly across her clit as she spoke.
“And how would you be dressed,” he asked, leaning closer.
“I’d be in a black garter belt and…wait…Patric is headed over here,” she said quickly, spying the wine steward from the corner of her eye.
“Don’t stop what you’re doing,” Duncan instructed, leaning back, “unless one of us says the word, blackberry, then you can take a short break.”
She wanted to protest, to say she couldn’t possibly do such a thing, but she knew better.
“Your unwanted admirer has left,” Patric announced as he began the ritual of uncorking the wine and pouring it into a decanter.
“That was so kind of you,” Duncan said appreciatively, “wasn’t it Brittany?”
With her fingers moving against her sex, she did her best to smile convincingly.
“Yes, very,” she managed, hoping she’d sounded sincere.
“Sir,” Patric said formally as he poured the wine in the large, crystal glass and handed it to him for tasting, “please.”
Duncan raised the glass, swirled the deep red liquid, and inhaled.
“Do you smell the intense blackberry?” Patric asked.
Discreetly sighing, Brittany dropped her hand away from her nether regions and lifted back to the table.
“I do, the fragrance is overwhelmingly clear,” Duncan replied, then taking a sip he nodded his head. “Marvelous, absolutely marvelous.”
“Thank you, Sir, and for Madame,” he continued, splashing the wine into Brittany’s glass.
“Thank you,” she smiled, “I’m very happy we ordered this particular wine.”
Duncan grinned back at her, while Patric did a sharp, quick bow and placed the decanter in the center of table.
“Bon appetit, and if I can be of further service, please don’t hesitate to call on me.”
“Patric, thank you for everything,” Duncan said.
“Yes, everything,” Brittany echoed, and picking up her glass she took a sip, then rolled her eyes.
“Ooh, this is delicious, it’s like velvet,” she remarked.
“How did you know about the white burgundy?” Duncan asked. “You never cease to surprise me.”
“My father is a wine lover, he has quite a collection,” she replied.
“And here you were pretending to be a simple southern girl from a small town,” he grinned.
“I am a simple southern girl from a small town, but my father was very successful at a relatively young age, and wanted to live somewhere quiet. We moved to the small town in question when I was only about three. He travels quite a bit, but mostly runs the business from home.”
“So that’s where you get your business savvy,” Duncan said knowingly.
“I guess so,” she shrugged.
“Hand back between your legs, please,” he said lightly, “and remember what I said. If we have to stay here until the place closes, we’re not leaving until I see you climax.”
“Ooh, Sir,” she sighed, feeling the now familiar wave of submission sweep through her. “Just saying that makes me want to come.”
“Excellent, so keep at it, and tell me every time you’re close. I shall decide when the moment will be.”
So it began. Their meal was served, and when her face became flushed and she told him she was nearing her moment, he’d instruct her stop and allow her to eat. By the time they had finished their main course, her eyes were sparkling and silently pleading.
“Would you care for dessert?” the waiter asked, handing them the menus.
“Yes, please,” Duncan replied, without perusing the list of choices. “We’d like Baked Alaska.”
As the waiter left, Duncan reached across the table and took hold of her free hand, the other still busy between her legs.
“When he comes back, and flambes the meringue, that’s when you’ll come for me, and you’ll pretend your being wowed by the flames. That will be the excuse for any noise or heavy breathing.”
“I’m not sure I can pull it off,” she breathed.
“You can, and you will,” he decreed.
And she did.
As the waiter brought the flame to the dessert, all eyes, except for Duncan’s, were on the excitement of the fire. Brittany exclaimed her awe, but no-one was paying her any attention, and as the bluish glow around the meringue began to subside, so did her waves of orgasmic pleasure.
None the wiser the waiter plated their slices, but Brittany was too overcome to do anything but stare down at it, as the post-climax fatigue washed over her.
“You were fabulous, you are fabulous,” Duncan whispered. “I’m immensely proud of you.”
“You are? I’m so glad, I wish I curl up in your lap right now.”
“Soon
,” he promised. “Try the dessert, you’ll love it.”
Her eyes glittering, her face flushed, she slowly picked up her fork and took a bite.
“This is incredible,” she declared, “this was the tastiest meal I’ve ever had.”
“The most satisfying too, I’m sure,” he added.
“Definitely,” she nodded. “Thank you, Duncan, this is truly one of the best nights of my life, and I’ll never forget it.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
When he woke in the morning Brittany was still sleeping soundly beside him, but staring aimlessly at the shadows on the ceiling he felt a growing unease. This was not his first shipboard escapade, but it was his first shipboard romance, and he wanted to kick himself.
This was so unfair of me. I should have stopped it before it began. I knew the attraction was intense, I knew the chemistry was there, I knew, and still I let it happen. Now we’re going to go through a tearful, gut-wrenching goodbye, and for what, a few nights of…
“Duncan?”
Her sleepy voice drifted up to him, and sighing heavily he rolled over and brought her into his arms.
“I’m here,” he said softly.
“I thought for a minute you’d gone somewhere,” she mumbled. “I didn’t feel you next to me.”
“I’m here,” he repeated, at least, for the moment.
“I love sleeping with you,” she purred, and curling into him she fell back asleep.
Duncan closed his eyes, sinking into the delicious feel of her wrapped in his arms, shrouded by a need to protect her, to teach her, to take her deeper into his dark, indulgent world, and he knew that need would only grow deeper as the days on board the ship floated by.
You are a treasure, an absolute treasure, and I can sense a Brittany you’ve never let the world see. I can feel you opening up, the proverbial flower blossoming. This is wrong, totally wrong. You think I’m a fascinating, English Dominant, an author, a mysterious romantic, but you don’t know the other side of me, you don’t even know I’m a barrister. Do I tell you all the gory details of my boring life back in London, full of trials and cocktail parties and endless paperwork, or let you leave with your fantasy of me in tact?
It was an impossible question, and with it swirling around in his head he found himself reaching for her, needing to feel her, needing to take her. As his hands moved across her body, fondling, caressing, pinching and teasing, and her moans of gratitude and pleasure filled the room, he moved on top of her, and pushing her legs apart, slid his cock forcefully forward.
“Mmm, so wonderful,” she mumbled.
Kneeling up he clutched her hips, pulling her into his pelvis, thrusting home with a compelling urgency, the voice in his head suggesting it might be the last time he would have the joy of making love to her. If he was noble, if he was a gentleman, he’d let her go before she sank any deeper; he let her go before his own heart was put at even greater risk.
The fear took over, his stroking became ardent and demanding, and roused abruptly from her deep sleep, Brittany could sense his acute desire; he was fucking her with a desperate emotional power.
Dropping his head to her breasts he devoured them hungrily, and as his lips moved to her neck, she could hear his breathless panting.
“Duncan, are you all right?” he muttered.
“You’re a treasure,” he murmured, speaking his thoughts as his cock paused, and with his heart swelling he began to ride her again, stroking as he kissed her, his lips consuming hers.
Swept up in his passionate fire, her bubble suddenly threatened to break. Throwing her arms around his neck and pressing her mouth to his, her lips sent their own message of zealous need; it was all it he needed to send him tumbling into his moment.
Moving her mouth from his she let out her startled cry as her orgasm abruptly exploded, rocketing through her, and clutching him intensely she refused to release him even after their spasms had dissipated and he had slipped from her depths.
“Easy,” he whispered, attempting to move her arms from around his back.
“Something’s wrong,” she breathed, “I can feel it. What is it?”
“Sssh,” he crooned, ignoring the deep thudding in his chest.
“Don’t tell me to shush,” she replied, finally releasing him. “You just made love to me like the ship was going down.”
Rolling off her and pulling her into his shoulder, he squeezed his eyes shut.
How can I tell you what I’m feeling when I don’t even know myself? How can I tell you about my worry, my fear…
“I’m not sure…” he began.
“Not sure about what?” she pressed.
“We’re speeding forward, and it’s going to come to an abrupt halt in just a couple of days,” he managed.
Hearing the words out loud, a deep frown crossed his brow as he realized how trite they’d sounded.
“What are you saying?” she asked, pulling herself from his arms and staring down at him.
“I’m worried…for you,” he muttered, and for me.
“Why?”
“Because the feelings…they’ve-”
“Hold on a second,” she interrupted. “Are you saying you think we should call it quits?”
“I’m just saying, I’m worried. If the feelings are this strong already, how much harder will it be when we have to say goodbye in a couple of days?”
“I don’t believe what I’m hearing,” she said fiercely. “You’re the one who showered me with a fabulous dinner and roses and said, let’s enjoy the time we have. What’s going on? Why are you about to dump me?”
“Stop it,” he said sharply.
“I won’t stop it,” she spat, jumping from the bed.
“I’m simply voicing my concerns,” he replied. “I’m trying to make sense of this, and what’s best for us. Brittany, you need to calm down.”
“No, I won’t calm down,” she railed, and grabbing her pillow she threw it at him. It landed across his face, and pulling it away he glared up at her.
“My goodness, you’re actually throwing a tantrum,” he declared, staring at her red face and blazing eyes. “I can’t believe it,” and leaping from his side of the bed, he shook his finger at her across the mattress. “You, Brittany Carter, are a spoiled brat throwing a tantrum. Stop it at once.”
“I am not!” she snapped. “I’m reacting to some bastard who took what he wanted and is now about to dump me.”
Marching around the bed he was next to her in seconds, grabbing her arm.
“Listen to me, young lady, you-”
“Let me go!” she demanded, interrupting him, “let me go right this minute.”
“My goodness, you’re being such a brat,” he exclaimed, and picking her up he threw her back on the bed, quickly straddled her, and pinning her wrists on either side of her head he glared down at her.
“You truly are a spoiled little girl, aren’t you, Brittany,” he scolded. “That wealthy father of yours, you had him wrapped around your little finger, didn’t you?”
He paused, staring down at her.
“You don’t know anything,” she snapped.
“I completely misjudged you,” he frowned. “I thought you weren’t allowed to be yourself growing up, and it’s just the opposite. It’s no wonder you want a Dominant. You need a man who will discipline you and make you behave. My goodness me, you certainly do, that’s exactly what you need.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, now let me up,” she insisted, squirming underneath him.
“Not until you calm down,” he growled. “Now take a deep breath. You’re going to listen to me whether your like it or not, and I might well tan your hide when I’m finished,” he threatened. “And something else just occurred to me. It’s no wonder you’re afraid to leave home, you have everything you want at your fingertips.”
Brittany stopped her struggling and stared up at him, his words hitting home.
Shit. He’s right. That’s exactly why I don’t wan
t to leave.
“Finally,” he sighed. “Are you going to listen now?”
“Fine,” she said impatiently, not wanting to give up her pride.
“Sometimes things need to be talked about. You want to be free to voice your feelings, don’t you, Brittany? You want to share your dreams with me, your fears, your hopes. Am I not accorded the same right?”
“I, uh…I guess…” she mumbled.
“I’m concerned. The feelings between us have exploded, or am I wrong about that? Aren’t you feeling perilously close to me?”
“Perilously close,” she repeated thoughtfully. “That’s definitely how I feel, perilously close. Yes, but that doesn’t mean-”
“Be quiet,” he said sternly. “I owe you an apology.”
“You do?” she asked, puzzled by the admission.
“I let myself get swept away. It’s been a long time since I had such amazing chemistry with someone, a long time,” he said wistfully, “and I let it get the better of me. I did all those things for you because I let my heart lead me. It was wrong, and I’m sorry.”
“Now you’re not making any sense,” she frowned, “let me up.”
“No, Brittany, I’m not going to let you up. You need to stay right where you are. You’re falling for me, I know you are, and you reacted badly when I started to voice my concerns because of those feelings.”
The heat in her throat was building, and she dropped her eyes, not wanting him to see he was right.
“You said we should enjoy the time we have,” she said, her lower lip beginning to tremble.
“I did, and at the time I was right, but I didn’t anticipate our feelings would be turbocharged. If things continue like this, how miserable are we going to be when we have to go our separate ways?”
Brittany felt her fight slipping away.
He’s right. You know he’s right.
“This isn’t fair,” she muttered, feeling the threat of tears.
“No, it isn’t,” he agreed, releasing her wrists.
“I don’t want to stop things,” she said, looking back at him with pleading eyes.
“I don’t either, but…”
“You think it will be way worse to say goodbye in a couple of days,” she finished, a rogue tear escaping from her right eye.
THE STRICT BRITISH BARRISTER: ACT ONE Page 10