WET 2: London: A Steamy Holiday Romance

by Maggie Carpenter

  "You'd better ask permission," he said firmly, pausing to deliver several quick, sharp slaps.

  "I will, I will."

  Basking in the joy of being under his control once again, relishing the same hot intensity they'd shared on the cruise, she buried her head in a pillow and let out a wail. His fingers dug into her skin, his cock accelerated, and he paused her to tease her clit. She thought she might faint from the pleasure, and as her orgasm loomed, she looked over her shoulder with pleading eyes.

  "Sir," she bleated, "please may I come?"

  "Are you sure you're ready?" he asked, sending his hand beneath her to tweak her nipple. "Do you promise to be good?"

  "Yes, Sir. I promise."

  Clutching her hair, he tugged her head back, and grasping her waist with one hand, he let loose, pummeling her with abandon.

  "Come for me now," he commanded, suddenly feeling his climax approach. "Now, Brittany!"

  As the delicious tingles sparked through her body, she dove her fingers against her clit, rubbing furiously, hoping to extend the glorious sensations. He continued to pump zealously, and only when the waves of her orgasm began to wane did she hear his groans as his climax shuddered through him. Finally slipping from her depths, he collapsed on the bed. Breathless and drained, she dropped on her stomach beside him.

  "Duncan, that was incredible," she panted, snuggling against him and closing her eyes. "You are amazing."

  "We, Brittany, we are amazing together," he murmured, and letting out a heavy breath, he joined her, drifting in the post-orgasmic bliss.

  * * * * * * * * * *

  It was Brittany who stirred first, propping herself up on an elbow and kissing him.

  "I feel wonderful," she said softly as he opened his eyes. "You fixed me."

  "I hope so, but I'm not going to push our luck. We'll stay in today, and if you're still feeling this good tomorrow we'll venture out."

  "Are you sure we can't go out today?"

  "I'm sure. It's cold and damp. Those pills can stop the flu taking hold, but if you're not careful it could come back."

  "You're probably right," she said with a sigh, then pausing, she added, "Um, Duncan, I, uh, there's something I need to confess."

  "I'm listening."

  "Please don't be mad."

  "No promises, but I'll do my best."

  "Last night when I woke up, I, uh, I kind of went into your closet."

  "Kind of?"

  "Sorry. I did go into your closet."

  "It's a wardrobe," he corrected her, "and I'm aware of that."

  "You are? Why didn't you say anything?"

  "I fully intended to, but a naughty, naked, sexy siren lured me into her bathtub."

  "I'm so embarrassed."

  "That's an improvement," he remarked. "On the ship you were full of excuses for sneaking into my stateroom."

  "Are you going to punish me?"

  "Of course, but you were honest. I'll be merciful."

  "You sound like a King!"

  "I am your King, but I won't cut off your head unless you do something really bad, like, burn the toast."

  "I'll remember that," she said with a giggle. "Thank you for being so understanding."

  "Thank you for telling me. I'm going to rinse off and think about your punishment. I'll be back in a minute."

  He climbed from the bed, and as she watched him stride across the room, she felt her heart swell.

  "Dammit," she said under her breath. "I'm falling hard. Really hard."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Over a full English breakfast, which Brittany ravenously devoured, Duncan listened attentively as she chatted about her life back in South Carolina. Taking his last bite, he laid down his fork and studied her, a grave expression crossing his face.

  "I've decided on your punishment," he declared. "Your curiosity isn't a bad thing, but you must learn to control your impulses."

  His unexpected announcement startled her, and trying to quiet her butterflies, she stared back at him with a pained expression.

  "Why do you make me feel ten years old?"

  "Probably because you act like a ten-year old sometimes. As I mentioned, your discipline will be less severe because you told me what you did, but Brittany, no more snooping! If you want to know something, just ask."

  "You're right. I'm sorry. I could have just peeked inside the door and stopped there."

  "Exactly. First, you're going to wash and dry all these dishes. I'll be in the living room working, so you'll have to find your own way around this kitchen to find out where everything goes, though you might enjoy that," he added, raising an eyebrow. "Second, you were so interested in my desk you'll spend the remainder of the morning cleaning it. If it takes longer, so be it. Third, you will, of course, be spanked. Any questions?"

  "No," she replied with a sigh, "though it's not exactly how I imagined my first day here."

  "You're not complaining are you?"

  "Maybe," she replied, with the hint of a grin.

  "You are a very cheeky girl, but it suits you."

  "It does?"

  "Yes, it does. Now start clearing up these dishes, and you need to take another pill. I think I will too. An ounce of prevention can't hurt."

  As Brittany began to carry the dishes to the sink, Duncan retrieved the homeopathic medication from his vitamin cabinet.

  "One now," he said, handing it to her, "and you should have another one tonight."

  "Thank you. Uh, Duncan," she said softly, wrapping her arms around his neck, "do you realize you haven't kissed me since we got here?"

  "Yes, I am very aware of that, and I won't, not until I know you're one-hundred percent better."

  "This morning you—"

  "This morning I was very careful," he said, cutting her off, "but you're probably right. I laid in the sheets you slept in, and you snuggled next to me. I'm probably kidding myself that I haven't been exposed to your nasty germs."

  "So…?"

  "So, nothing. I'm still paranoid."

  "I certainly don't want to kiss someone who doesn't want to kiss me," she retorted indignantly. "Maybe I'll find myself another handsome Londoner to do the honors."

  "And maybe I'll kiss your bottom with my wooden spoon. I'm off to start a fire in the lounge. Get to work, young lady."

  Disentangling himself from her arms, he moved through the dining room into the comfortable lounge, turned the gas fireplace on high, and retrieved the laptop he'd left charging overnight. Sinking into his easy chair near the fire and listening to Brittany putter in the kitchen, a satisfied smile crossed his lips. He adored her, and in spite of their uncertain future, he was glad he'd brought her back with him. Opening his computer, he clicked into his email, and his happy smile turned into a frown. An endless stream of messages waited a response. Reading each in turn, he deleted those he could, answered the ones needing an immediate reply, and downloaded the rest into their respective files to reply to later. He was almost finished when Brittany entered the room.

  "I'm finished!" she declared, then abruptly began to giggle. "I was thinking, why don't you buy me one of those naughty maid's outfits?"

  "That is an excellent suggestion," he agreed with a grin. "Will I find the counters clean, the dishes put away and the sink spotless?"

  "Yep, it's all done, but when can I go shopping? I know I'm only here for a short time, but I have nothing to wear for this weather, not even a proper jacket."

  "I'll see what I can find to tide you over. I should have something to keep you comfortable in the house."

  "That would be great, but when we finally go out, I'm not sure what I'll do."

  "Point taken. I have a cream cable-knit jumper, or rather sweater as you call it, that should fit. It got caught up in some laundry and shrunk. I planned to give it to a charity shop, but I just haven't had the time. Do you have a pair of nice jeans?"

  "Yes! I totally forgot about them."

&n
bsp; "Your jeans and that jumper will be find for the place we're having lunch tomorrow."

  "Awesome. Where are we going?"

  "It's a surprise, and don't you have more work to do?"

  "You mean the desk?"

  "Under the sink there's a bottle of wood oil. It's clearly marked, and there are clean rags in the—"

  "I saw them."

  "In the cabinet next to the door that leads into the laundry," he finished, raising his eyebrows.

  "Sorry," she said softly. "Yes, I saw them."

  "Also in that cabinet is a small, black, square box, and in that square box are some cotton swabs. Grab the oil, rags and a handful of the swabs, and meet me in the office."

  "Okay," she said with a smile, then pecked him on the lips. "Sorry. I couldn't help myself."

  "You're lucky my computer is on my lap. Scoot."

  As she hurried away, he closed his laptop, set it on the coffee table and headed into his office. Making sure the magnificent Wooten desk was locked, he moved to a small closet and he retrieved a handheld vacuum cleaner.

  "I have everything," Brittany declared, entering the room.

  "Use this to clean the outside," he said, showing her the small vacuum. "It will suck away the dust in the nooks and crannies. After you've done that, take a swab, dab it into the oil, and—"

  "Are you saying I have to move a Q-tip into the crevices of all the carvings?"

  "Indeed. When I was a boy, taking care of this desk was a great source of pride."

  "But it's so big I'll never finish."

  "Not if you don't get to work. You can take a tea break in an hour."

  "If I survive that long!"

  "If at least two of those panels aren't done when I return, you'll be finishing the job with a hot bottom. No slacking off!"

  "You're so strict."

  "You keep telling me I am, so I suppose I must be," he retorted, but he couldn't suppress his grin. She was a brat and a diva, but she was also the cutest, sexiest girl he'd ever met.

  Returning to the living room, he finished his emails, the last one from his publisher asking when he'd be receiving the new manuscript. Duncan answered by sending it off, then made an online reservation at The Crafty Fox, the country pub he planned to take Brittany the following day. It offered delicious food in a comfortable, relaxed atmosphere, allowed horses to graze in the adjacent paddock, and dogs to stay with their owners on the patio. The pub was one of his favorite places to unwind, and he always found it a welcome break. Brittany's hour was almost up, and closing the laptop, he headed into the kitchen to make the tea. Just as he set the water to boil, his phone rang. Lifting it from his pocket, he broke into a smile and accepted the call.

  * * * * * * * * * *

  In Duncan's office, Brittany stood back from the desk and admired her work. The areas she'd polished were glowing. Not only had the chore been much easier than she'd expected, she'd actually enjoyed it. Wanting to show off her work she ambled into the living room, and though Duncan wasn't there, she could hear him talking in the kitchen. Moving off to join him, as she walked through the dining room and neared the swinging doorway, she caught the tail end of his phone conversation.

  "I missed you too, Jane, very much, but don't worry, I'll see you on Monday and we'll work everything out."

  The words swirled through her head. Her stomach churning, she leaned against the wall and tried to tell herself not to jump to any conclusions. Except for the picture in the drawer, there was no evidence in the house of a woman's presence. Jane could be anyone, even if the inscription on the photograph suggested she was more than a casual friend. The sound of the whistling kettle broke into her worried thoughts, and doing her best to regain her composure, she moved through the door. Duncan was dropping tea leaves into the pot. Seeing him sent her heart racing. The thought that she might be nothing but a quick, secret fling was almost too much to bear.

  "Weren't you supposed to be waiting for me?" he asked, lifting his gaze.

  "The desk looks so beautiful I wanted to show you, the top half, I mean," she said haltingly, "and the hour is almost up."

  "You've done the top half already? That was fast. Properly I hope."

  "Of course!"

  "Did you find it tedious?"

  "At first, but the carvings are so beautiful I started to feel cleaning such an amazing piece of craftsmanship was an honor."

  "You have just made my day," he said with a smile, walking towards her and opening his arms.

  She paused. It was a nanosecond pause, but it was still a pause.

  "Brittany, is something wrong?" he asked, as she sank against his chest.

  "No."

  "Are you sure?"

  Brittany squeezed her eyes shut, wincing as her insecurities took hold. How could she ask about the photograph in the drawer, or tell him she's just listened to his conversation? She decided she couldn't, at least, not yet.

  "I, uh, think I just need a cup of tea."

  "You're not feeling sick again, are you?"

  "No," she said hastily, "I feel really good. I think it might be a—wow, am I really here?—thing. I'm in London with you. It's a big deal. The reality is sinking in."

  "Understandable, and yes, it is a big deal. Take a seat at the table. I have something else that will help put a sparkle back in those eyes."

  "You do?"

  "Crumpets, with butter and honey."

  In spite of her misgivings, a spontaneous smile danced across her face.

  "Crumpets? I can't wait."

  But as he moved to the island and she sat down, she had the overwhelming feeling he knew she'd just lied. She told herself she had no choice.

  "Go ahead, try one," he said casually, returning to the table with the plate of crumpets and teapot. "They really are delicious."

  Lifting a crumpet from the plate and taking a bite, she rolled her eyes.

  "Oh, wow, I knew they'd be good, but these are incredible. I want one every day for the rest of my life. No, I take that back, I want two every day for the rest of my life. Why don't we have these in the States?"

  "That, Brittany, is a very good question."

  "Seriously, they are unbelievable."

  "I have to agree. I don't eat them often or I'd never stop. I'd turn into a dumpling."

  "I can't imagine you ever becoming a dumpling," she said with a giggle. "I'm sure I'll be fine to go out tonight. Can I change your mind?"

  "Nope, but I do have something planned. Something I'd like to do very much."

  "Sounds intriguing," she said, trying to push her fears to the back of her mind as she devoured the remainder of the crumpet.

  "I want to curl up on the couch with you, sit in front of the fire and have a picnic dinner. Wine, smoked salmon, crackers, artichoke dip, all kinds of tasty, sexy things, and talk until we're all talked out. I want to know about your family, what you want to do with the rest of your life, what your dreams are, the places you've visited, and the places you want to visit. Then I want to take you to bed and kiss every part of your delectable body."

  She let out a heavy sigh. Her handsome, sexy Brit had just outlined a night she'd dreamed of since the day they'd met on the ship.

  "I would absolutely love that. I want to learn about you too," she murmured, then pausing, she added, "Anything and everything you want to tell me."

  "You already know I'm a barrister and write naughty novels, and I know you're a gorgeous creature with an overactive curiosity, but not much else, and that has to change."

  Sipping her tea, and gazing at him across the table, she felt her insecurities beginning to fade. Brittany believed Duncan's feelings for her were genuine, and matched her own. But she still wanted to know exactly who Jane was, and she was determined to find out.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The romantic evening had drifted by like a dream. Wearing only comfortable robes, Duncan had fed Brittany a variety of delicious morsels, and over a bot
tle of velvety red wine they had talked, laughed, and pondered profound questions. Jane's name hadn't been mentioned, and Brittany's concern continued to fade as the evening progressed. When the rain started, adding to the intimacy in the late night hour, she curled into his lap.

  "You're like a cuddly kitten," he murmured, running his fingers through her hair.

  "If I was a kitten I'd be purring. I never want this evening to end. I know that's a cliche, but I mean it."

  "I'm sure we'll make many more memories, and now, my sexy, precious girI, I'm taking you up to my bed."

  "What about all this?" she asked, waving her hand at the coffee table.

  "That can wait. I have more important things to do."

  "It's been such a wonderful night. The food was amazing—the wine—everything."

  "It was a wonderful night for me as well," he said, shifting her off his lap and helping her to her feet, "but it's not over yet."

  Ambling up the stairs and into the bedroom, he moved behind her, lifted her hair to softly kiss her neck, then sliding the robe down her arms, he let it puddle around her feet.

  ."Duncan," she breathed, turning to face him, "I love how you touch me."

  A momentary furrow crinkled his brow, then placing his hands on either side of her face, he lowered his mouth against hers, devouring her lips and demanding her response. Their passion ignited, and suddenly pulling back, he scooped her into his arms. The bed was only a few steps away, and laying her down, he fell next to her, moving his lips to her neck, then down her chest to consume her breasts. Moaning her pleasure she reached for his cock, and as her fingers wrapped around him, he lifted his head and let out a low groan. Quickly slipping out of his robe, he pulled off the sash, grabbed her wrists, deftly tying them together above her head.

  "I think you need to be reminded who's boss," he growled, darting his lips to her ear. "Leave them there."

  "Yes, Sir."

  But she'd barely managed the words. The sudden bondage had sent her butterflies fluttering and a flood through her sex. She watched, spellbound, as he kneeled between her legs. Dropping his hand against her pussy, he teased her clit, then plunged his finger inside her soaked channel.