WET 2: London: A Steamy Holiday Romance

by Maggie Carpenter

  "Who's in charge?" he demanded, thrusting it in and out.

  "You are, Sir," she bleated breathlessly.

  "Do you want my cock?"

  "Desperately."

  "Beg."

  "Fuck me, please, please, take me, ravage me, slide your cock in me, please, Sir."

  Clutching her hips, he pulled her into his pelvis, and placing himself at her entrance he pushed forward. He was taking her, utterly and completely, and she loved it. She loved his power, his control, and his steel will.

  "Your body is mine. I'll fuck you as I want. Quick, like this," he growled, pummeling her pussy, "or like this," he muttered, slamming his rod with slow, strong strokes. "In my bed, you belong to me."

  His words swirled around her head, words she'd never heard before, words that rang true, words she realized she'd been longing to hear her entire life. As the endless minutes ticked by, he ravaged her ruthlessly, taking her to the brink, then backing off, building her orgasm like a ticking time bomb. She knew it would explode, but when was up to him.

  "You've been a good girl," he said huskily, lowering his body on top of her. "Good girls get rewarded."

  She wanted to speak, she wanted to thank him, she wanted to let him know how much she treasured his praise, but his mouth was on hers in a crushing kiss, then abruptly he moved his lips to her ear.

  "You're going to come now, and it's going to be big. Scream as much as you want."

  Straightening up, he gripped her waist.

  His thrusts began slowly, but rapidly gathered speed. Her climax rose up inside her, drew closer, then seized her. Electric sparks sizzled through her body, shooting hot, scintillating sensations through her limbs. Wailing her pleasure with each new wave, his lips fell against hers swallowing her cries. Her arms flew over his head and around his neck, her bound wrists urgently clutching him against her, until the spasms waned and she fell limp beneath him. Every part of her tingling, she felt him untie her wrists, then wrap her up in his arms.

  "Dream happy dreams," he whispered. "I'll see you on the other side."

  As she drifted away, Duncan willed his heart to stop its wild thumping. The splattering of the rain against the windows usually lulled him to sleep, but he couldn't rest. Brittany was unlike any woman he'd met.

  * * * * * * * * * *

  When Duncan woke the following morning and stared at the clock, he couldn't believe it read 10:32 a.m. Then he could. The jet lag, the bottle of wine, and their long, late night had taken their toll. Feeling Brittany stir next to him, he pulled her into his arms as she groggily opened her eyes.

  "I hate to tell you this, but we need to get up."

  "No, please, no."

  "I promise our lunch will be worth the effort. I'm going to take a shower, but by myself or we'll never get out of here."

  "Do we have time for a cup of tea before we leave?"

  "Spoken like a native Brit," he said with a chuckle, slipping from the bed and walking across to his dresser. "We'll have a cuppa and some toast, but I don't want to ruin our appetites. The place I'm taking you has great food. Here's the jumper," he declared, taking it from a drawer and placing it on the bed. "You really do need to get in the shower as soon as I'm done."

  "I will," she murmured, sitting up and releasing a yawn. "As much as I love being in bed with you, I can't wait to get out and about."

  Thirty minutes later they were in his Audi zipping down the motorway heading into the English countryside. The sun peeked through picturesque clouds, and listening to the CD of a local rock band, the miles sailed past. In spite of Jane's lurking shadow, and the unpleasant knowledge Duncan would be meeting her for lunch in a couple of days, Brittany couldn't recall ever feeling so happy.

  "We're almost there!" he declared, turning down the volume as he exited the motorway.

  "Wonderful. I'm starving."

  "That's the fresh country air! We can sit outside if you want. If we're lucky we might be visited by a horse or two. I'm taking you to an old country pub where dogs and horses are welcome."

  "That's fantastic. Thank you so much for bringing me here."

  "I'm very glad to do it. I try to get to this place at least once a month."

  "It's gorgeous out here," she said wistfully, staring at the distant hills. "I'd love to live in an area like this."

  "We're almost at the village. I should warn you, the pub is supposed to be haunted, but England is full of ghosts. My parents live in a house that was built in the eighteenth century, and they swear they share it with a little girl."

  "Ooh, I just got chills."

  "I don't believe it, but there are more things in heaven and earth..."

  "That's for sure. Look at us!"

  Her spontaneous remark struck him.

  "Yes, look at us," he repeated, glancing across at her.

  Entering the small country town, he pulled into a parking space, then took her hand as they ambled down the street towards a white building with paned windows, and an overhead sign featuring a laughing fox.

  "Why is the fox so happy?" Brittany asked.

  "Because he's cunning and always gets away."

  "Oh, I like that!"

  Duncan pushed open the door, and a robust, middle-aged woman bustled forward to greet them.

  "Duncan, how lovely to see you."

  "Hello, Doris, this is my friend, Brittany. She's visiting from South Carolina."

  "You've come a long way. Isn't it good that the weather cleared for you? Still a bit nippy though. I'll take you to your table and bring you a pot of tea."

  Escorting them to a secluded booth, she placed the menus on opposite sides of the table, but as she walked away, Duncan slipped into the bench seat next to Brittany.

  "Remember, we're British, so no hijinks," he said with a wink. "Lest you forget, you're still due a spanking."

  "I am?"

  "You know you are. I don't always deliver immediately, but I always deliver."

  Though his comment sent her butterflies fluttering, the photograph of him with the gorgeous girl suddenly burst into her mind. Unable to stand the unanswered question another minute, she decided to take the plunge.

  "Duncan, can I ask you something?"

  "You can ask me anything, and why do you look so serious?"

  "Do you have, uh, someone else, like a girlfriend?"

  "Where on earth would you get that idea? Do you honestly think I would have asked you to come here and stay at my house if—"

  "Sorry, sorry," she said hastily, cutting him off. "I'm sorry, it's just..."

  "Brittany, I thought you understood I'm single. Where did that come from?"

  "I, uh…" she began hesitantly, searching for an answer, "you're really good-looking and successful. It's hard to believe you're not attached."

  "I'm not," he said firmly, "and since we're on the subject, is there someone special waiting for you back in South Carolina?"

  "No, not even close."

  "Good, that's settled."

  She believed him. His ski bunny valentine was history, but his lunch date with her remained an annoying mystery.

  "Here you are," Doris announced, arriving at the table carrying a tray. "I've brought you some scones with whipped cream and raspberry jam. I'm sure Duncan will agree you have to try them."

  "I would most definitely agree, and we're in no hurry. I thought we might sit outside for pudding and coffee later. I told Brittany some horses might stop by."

  "Oh yes, you must," Doris said earnestly. "The Tottenham's will probably ride in, especially with the sun being out."

  "Will you reserve us a table on the patio? What time do you think?"

  "They usually arrive around two-thirty. I'll make sure to save you a good spot. Just wave when you're ready to order."

  "Thank you, Doris, we will, but you know what I'm having."

  "Roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and roasted vegetables!"

  "That sounds amazin
g," Brittany piped up.

  "Check the menu before you decide," Doris suggested. "We have quite a few specialities."

  "You should pile on plenty of the jam and cream," Duncan said solemnly, reaching for a scone as Doris walked away. "Scones in the States are not scones. I don't know what they are, but they're not scones. Open wide and bite off half."

  Sinking her teeth into the soft dough, she let out a moan and rolled her eyes.

  "That's unbelievable. I want one of those every day for the rest of my life."

  "Along with a crumpet?"

  "Yes, along with a crumpet," she replied earnestly, then placing her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand, she let out a sigh. "I'm dreaming. Things like this don't happen to me."

  "Apparently they do," he said softly, moving his arm around her waist. "I'm wide awake, so you must be as well. Oh, no!"

  "What's wrong?"

  "I've just snagged my watch buckle on the back of your jumper, or rather, my jumper. Bend over my lap so I can get it off."

  "Excuse me?"

  "It's the only way I'll be able to see what I'm doing. Lean over."

  "But my face will be in your crotch."

  "Your face, my crotch," he said with a chuckle. "You won't hear me complaining."

  "Duncan!"

  "I have to get this thing unstuck! Bend over, but move slowly."

  "Good grief, this is so embarrassing."

  "Embarrassing would be if I spanked you while you're there."

  "Oh, dear God, no!"

  "I will if you don't hurry up."

  "Okay, okay."

  Though initially horrified, she found the absurd situation amusing and began to giggle.

  "Are people staring?" she asked, looking at him over her shoulder.

  "Absolutely. There's a man two tables away giving me the thumbs up!"

  "Now you're just teasing me."

  Though it was only a few minutes, to Brittany it felt like forever, and when he finally told her she could sit up, her face was covered with a hot, red flush.

  "I need a shot of whiskey," she declared, running her fingers through her hair, "and you should sit across from me."

  "I'm perfectly comfortable where I am, thank you."

  "Why do you have such a wicked look in your eye?"

  "That's classified."

  "How reassuring," she quipped sarcastically, shooting him a look as she reached for her teacup. "I can't even begin to imagine."

  "You probably could if you tried hard enough," he retorted, sporting a devilish grin, "though you might not want to."

  He had just decided a flogging was in her future.

  CHAPTER SIX

  After enjoying their long, leisurely lunch, and promising Doris they'd return for coffee on the patio, Duncan took Brittany's hand and led her outside. The sun was still beaming its warmth, and with a soft breeze wafting around them, they headed down the quaint village street.

  "There's an interesting antique store I want you to see," Duncan said as they ambled past the charming shops and gazed in the windows.

  "I love antique stores. You never know what you might find."

  "Then you'll really enjoy this place. It's like walking into another world."

  "Getting away with you is like being in another world," she remarked softly, leaning against his shoulder.

  The store was only a few doors down, and as Duncan ushered her inside, Brittany stood and stared.

  "This is amazing. Why do I feel as if I should be whispering?"

  "I know what you mean," Duncan murmured, leading her slowly through the many collectibles and old pieces of furniture. "Look up there. What do you think of her?" he asked, pointing to a portrait of a beautiful, dark-haired young woman with a mischievous expression.

  A chill pricked Brittany's skin.

  "Good grief. That could be me."

  "She sprang to mind the moment I met you. The likeness is uncanny."

  "May I help you?"

  As Brittany turned and found an elderly gentleman, her first thought was a Charles Dickens' novel, but when their eyes met, he caught his breath.

  "What can you tell me about that painting," Duncan asked, gesturing to the portrait, "and how much are you asking for it?"

  Though the man quickly composed himself, his surprise remained evident.

  "I'm afraid I don't know much," he replied. "I've been meaning to research the artist, but I'm not very good with the computer. I believe he's French. May I say," he continued, moving his eyes back to Brittany, "you bear a remarkable resemblance."

  "That is why we must come to terms," Duncan said solemnly.

  "I quite agree," the man said with a nod, and still staring at Brittany, he murmured, "Extraordinary, quite extraordinary."

  A price was quickly negotiated, and they left with the painting carefully packaged. Depositing it safely in the car, they hurried back to The Crafty Fox. True to her word, Doris had kept a table open for them on the patio, and Brittany was delighted to discover three horses grazing in the paddock across the fence.

  "This is wonderful," she exclaimed. "I can't believe I'm in a restaurant next to horses. I absolutely love this."

  As Doris delivered dessert—flaky pastry filled with custard, coated with melted chocolate and topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream—Brittany let out a sigh and shook her head.

  "This is too much, I'm sorry, Duncan, but I have to live here. I'm leaving South Carolina and moving into this pub. You can visit me on weekends."

  "That would work," Duncan said with a poker face. "I'll arrive on Friday, make mad, passionate love to you all weekend, and deliver your weekly spanking on Sunday night. Speaking of which, you won't be spanked when we get home."

  "You've changed your mind?"

  "Oh, no, I haven't changed my mind. I won't be spanking you, I'll be introducing you to my flogger."

  "S-sorry, what did you just say?"

  "You heard me. Finish your pudding. I'll be back in a minute."

  "You can't just leave after saying something like that."

  "Of course I can. I won't be long."

  As he rose from the table and disappeared inside, the people who owned the horses entered the field. Brittany watched as they tacked them up and climbed on for the ride home.

  "Ready?"

  She turned and looked up at him, then shook her head.

  "I'll never be ready to leave this place, and I want that dessert every day for the rest of my life."

  "Of course you do," he said with a chuckle.

  Sighing heavily she pushed back her chair and stood up from the table.

  "You're actually going to flog me?" she asked in a breathy whisper.

  "Yes, I'm actually going to flog you."

  "I don't know what to say."

  "You don't have to say anything, you just need to know it's going to happen. Come on. We need to hit the road."

  Leaving the pub and walking to the car, Brittany's butterflies fluttered in her very full stomach, and settling into her seat, the pending discipline consumed her thoughts.

  "Is the flogger because I went into your closet, sorry, wardrobe?" she asked as he climbed behind the wheel.

  "Not because you went in, but because you opened my drawers. I'm also going to paddle you for keeping me waiting this morning."

  "Paddle me? It was only five minutes."

  "Five minutes, five swats," he said calmly.

  She remained quiet as he pulled away from the curb, but as he drove through the village, she reached across and touched his arm.

  "Duncan, sorry to ask, but have you brought other, uh, people here?"

  "My sister, Catherine, I've brought her here, but no-one else."

  "I don't know why it's important, but I'm glad," she said softly. "This was one of the best days of my life."

  "It's not over yet, and for the record, I'm glad too. I loved every minute."

 
; * * * * * * * * * *

  Though Brittany attempted to calm her nerves on the drive home she had little success, and as Duncan turned down his street, then rolled the Audi into his garage, her heart began to beat like a bass drum.

  "I'm not going to take you out to sea and make you walk the plank," he remarked, turning off the engine and sending her a warm smile.

  "No, you're just going to take a paddle and a flogger to my backside!"

  "Actually, a flogger then a paddle, and your look of dread will not change my mind. You deserve it. I would have thought you'd learned your lesson on the ship when I spanked you for breaking into my stateroom."

  "I didn't break in, I sneaked in."

  "Semantics. Get inside or I'll add a few extra swats with a very special hairbrush."

  "Just how many of these lethal weapons do you own?"

  "Stick around a while and you'll find out."

  He climbed from the car, retrieved the painting, and headed to the door that led into the kitchen. Though it took her a minute, she grabbed her bag and followed him in.

  "That shoulder bag, what do you keep in it? I've never understood about women and their bags."

  "I feel safer having everything with me, and it's not just a shoulder bag, it's a Ralph Lauren Shopper."

  "It's quite beautiful. Make sure you don't leave it anywhere."

  "Not a chance. This bag is my third arm."

  "Go up to the bedroom and take off your clothes. I have to turn off the alarm."

  "You want me to wait for you completely naked?"

  "Yes, Brittany, completely naked."

  Pulse racing as she climbed the stairs, she entered the bedroom, and thinking it might help to calm her nerves, she decided to take a quick shower. As she foamed the lemon-basil gel in her hands and rubbed it over her body, she thought about the moment she'd first seen Duncan on the ship. She'd been captivated by him.

  "I still am," she mumbled, rinsing off and stepping from the stall.

  Quickly rubbing herself dry, she ran a brush through her hair, then wrapped a towel around her chest. Taking a deep breath, she closed her fingers around the door handle, paused for a moment, then opened the door. To her delight the bedroom was bathed in candlelight, but then she saw a thick rope hanging from one of the thick ceiling beams. With a fresh wave of nerves she moved across to the bed, only to find a pair of fur-lined, leather shackles and a blindfold. Her stomach flipping, she picked up one of the cuffs and ran her fingertips across the soft lining.