WET 2: London: A Steamy Holiday Romance

by Maggie Carpenter

  "Sir, ooh, Sir," she whimpered. "I was right on the edge."

  "I know."

  Clutching her seat cheeks and resting his head next to hers, he pumped with quick, abrupt thrusts until her cries were once again at a fever pitch, then backing off, he tongued his way from her neck to her mouth, crushing her lips in an all-consuming kiss, and began slow, teasing strokes.

  "Please, Sir," she begged as he broke away.

  "Please what?"

  "Ravage me and let me come. Please, I can't stand it."

  "This time," he promised. "Come when it hits."

  Kneeling up between her legs, he clutched her hips and pulled her into his pelvis, battering her sex with his rigid cock, keeping himself at bay until she let out her euphoric cry. The tingling waves of pleasure pulsed through his body, and groaning loudly, he released his essence, but even as his drained member slipped from her depths, her euphoric cries still filled the air. Kissing her breasts until they finally abated, he rolled beside her, holding her until their breathing settled.

  "Duncan?"

  "Yes, precious girl?"

  "Is your stomach okay?"

  "It must be. I didn't even think about it," he murmured, pulling the covers back over them. "Do you want to tell me about your dream?"

  "Yes, but not yet. For the moment l just want to lie here with you. Is that okay?"

  "So much more than okay," he said with a contented sigh. "There's nothing else I'd rather be doing, and nobody else I'd rather be doing it with."

  * * * * * * * * * *

  Duncan wasn't a man who lolled in bed, but the events of the previous day had taken their toll. With his office situation under control, his conversation with Catherine behind him, and Brittany's warm body next to him, he allowed himself the luxury. He sank into the mattress, his mind rested, and he was cloaked in an unfamiliar depth of peace. When she finally moved, throwing her arm across his chest and lifting her lips to nuzzle his neck, he rolled on to his side and gazed down at her.

  "How are you this morning?"

  "Is it still morning?"

  "I have no idea, and amazingly, I don't care."

  "Me either. Have you ever not cared?"

  "Never."

  "How does it feel?"

  "I'm not sure," he replied thoughtfully. "Different, in a good way, but definitely different. Have you ever not cared?"

  "Um, I don't think so. Back home, the minute I wake up I jump on my computer to see how much I sold overnight."

  "Do you miss your business?"

  "I don't at this minute, but I have been wondering how things are going. I've been very neglectful. Have you called your office?"

  "Indeed I have, and put things off for the week. I need to be with you," he said solemnly, his fingertip smoothing away a stray lock of hair. "I've done some serious thinking, and I'm making some changes. I don't want to spend the rest of my life at the beck and call of my clients. But enough about me. How's your head?"

  "It hurts, but not a headache hurt. The injury hurts."

  "You're so lucky. It could have been so much worse."

  "I think he missed. I think I was supposed to be knocked out."

  "I suspect you're right. Do you want to stay and rest a bit longer?"

  "I'd love to take a shower, but I can't get my head wet, and you have an overhead waterfall."

  "The guest room down the hall has a handheld shower."

  "It does? That's great."

  "While you're doing that I'll make us some porridge."

  "Porridge," she repeated, her eyes lighting up. "I've never had porridge."

  "You'll love it," he said with a grin, climbing from the bed and pulling on his boxers. "First, though, I need to show you something."

  "Right now?"

  "No time like the present."

  As she slipped out of bed, he took her hand and led her to the bathroom, helped her on with his robe, then opened the door to the wardrobe.

  "Duncan! Holy smokes!"

  The beige carpet was covered in the purple dye, with a sharp outline where Bert Willis had laid her Ralph Lauren bag.

  "The dye temporarily blinded him. That gave me time to lock the bathroom door, but as I explained, there was no lock on the door leading out into the hall. I could have had him trapped until the police came. It was an oversight I'm going to correct, though hopefully I'll never have to use it."

  "What about this carpet? I guess you'll have to replace it."

  "I might go with hardwood floors. You can help me decide, but there's something else I want to show you. I never want you to feel that you have to poke around for answers about me or my life. We're going to have a talk about that, and some other things too, but I hope this will show you I have no secrets. Obviously writing my naughty novels under A.S. Cane is a secret from the world, but otherwise my life is an open book. You can ask me about anything, including my former girlfriends. Okay? Got that?"

  "Okay, and yes, I understand."

  "Come with me," he said, guiding her around the dye to the opposite side of the island.

  Kneeling in front of what appeared to be its solid back, he pushed against the corner. The panel swung open revealing his safe.

  "So the locked cabinet on the other side is a decoy. This is where you keep your valuables."

  "Exactly," he said, spinning the dial and opening it up. "It's also where we should put your passport and anything else you care about. The only other person who knows about this is Catherine, and the company who installed it of course."

  "And all those keys in the bowl?"

  "A red herring. If someone saw those they'd think what you probably did. It would take forever to try them all. That's what I call the convincer."

  "Wow."

  "I doubt that creep will be back, but he might have friends. I need to come up with something else. Speaking of which, I also have to reset the alarm and change the locks to the front door. He only had the key for five minutes, but I'll still feel better knowing the key he had no longer works."

  "This is all my fault," she mumbled. "I can't say sorry enough times."

  "That's one of the things we need to talk about," he said gently, "and deal with."

  "Deal with?"

  "Yes, deal with, but later. Go and take your shower."

  "Duncan, you're being awfully good about all this."

  "The most important thing, my precious girl, is that you're all right."

  "No, the most important thing is that you're all right."

  "We're both all right," he crooned, hugging her. "By the way, I have something interesting to tell you about your portrait, or rather, the girl in the portrait."

  "You do? I can't wait!"

  "You know the guest room is just down the hall. Use that door, and I'll see you in the kitchen shortly."

  As she padded away, he closed up his safe, and being careful not to step in the purple mess, he dressed quickly and headed downstairs to make the porridge.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Sitting at the kitchen island next to Duncan, Brittany finished the last of her porridge, laid down her spoon, and leaned against his shoulder.

  "I feel so much better. Thank you. That was delicious."

  "Are you feeling up to a talk?"

  "Is anyone ever up for a D and M?"

  "What's D and M?"

  "Deep and meaningful."

  "I think I'll use that in one of my books," he said with a grin, "but if you're not in the mood…"

  "I was only joking. I'm definitely in the mood."

  "Let's sit in front of the fire."

  "That sounds like a very good idea."

  Ambling into the living room she settled on the couch, but Duncan remained standing.

  "Aren't you going to join me?"

  "Not yet. As you know I'm a lawyer, and Catherine says when I talk to her about her problems she feels as if she's in a courtroom. I don't mean to come across as in
sensitive, but leaving emotion out of things and dealing with just the facts—"

  "Excuse me," Brittany said, interrupting him, "but that's what people are, a jumble of emotions. You can't just eliminate them."

  "I don't eliminate them, I cut through them. I'll ask you questions, and I want you to imagine you're under oath and answer truthfully."

  "Nope, this is ridiculous."

  "Excuse me?"

  "I can't promise I won't get emotional."

  "You can try!"

  "Don't get your knickers in a twist," she retorted, raising her eyebrows. "Or should it be, don't get your boxers in a bunch?"

  "I swear, if you didn't have that bump on your head you'd be over my knee."

  "Why? Because I'm disagreeing with you?"

  "You, Brittany Carter…" he muttered shaking his head and breaking into a broad smile.

  "Why are you grinning like that?"

  "I just remembered something I read when I was researching that portrait, but never mind that for the moment. Will you please do this my way?"

  "Fine. Go ahead," she said, holding up her right hand. "I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and all that jazz."

  "Seems a pretty young woman from South Carolina wants a spanking!"

  "Sorry," she said with a giggle. "I couldn't help myself. Go ahead."

  "You need to be serious now," he said soberly. "This isn't a joking matter."

  "Okay. I'm paying attention."

  "Brittany, are you afraid of me?"

  "Heavens, no. I wouldn't be here if I was. I feel butterflies when we talk about punishment or before a spanking, but that's not scary in a bad way."

  "I'm very pleased to hear it," he said with a relieved sigh. "You admitted going into my closet, but didn't mention the photograph. Can you tell me why?"

  Dropping her eyes, she shifted uncomfortably on the couch.

  "Take the emotion out," he pressed, lowering his voice.

  "I see what you mean about pushing past feelings," she said quietly. "I felt jealous, and I was too embarrassed to ask about it. Then I overheard you on the phone saying you missed her and you were meeting up for lunch. You called her Jane, not Catherine. I had no idea you were speaking with your sister. At that point, any thoughts about mentioning the picture flew out the window."

  "I see," he murmured, sitting down next to her. "Will you tell me about the dream now?"

  "It brought my biggest fear into focus."

  "And what's your biggest fear?"

  "I'm not, uh, enough, for you."

  "Explain."

  "You're really handsome, you're a barrister, you're accomplished and sophisticated, and I may come from a good family and have my own business, but I'm not like you. I feel so ordinary next to you. That also crossed my mind when I saw that photo in your drawer. Catherine's so beautiful."

  "Brittany! You can't be serious! You knocked out a violent criminal with a cricket bat, the same criminal who had whacked you on the head in a dark alley just a short time before! And you're not just brave, you're incredibly sexy. Any man would be thrilled to have you at his side, especially this man."

  "Duncan, I don't know what to say."

  "Say you'll let go of all these insecurities and stay with me for a while longer. I've got a plan, and I'd love you to be a big part of it. I want to transition out of my law practice and start a publishing company. I have a concept for a system that would give authors real options. I see a void I believe I can fill. I've been thinking about this for a couple of years, and I think now it's time to take the leap."

  "My gosh, that's a big deal."

  "Yes, it's a really big deal, and obviously I must take things one step at a time, but let's see how we get along for a while. Of course, if you want to go back—"

  "I don't want to. I feel so at home here, and I want to be with you."

  "Brittany, what I do, the flogger, spanking you, being strict with you," he said gravely, "are you sure that's what you want?"

  "One-thousand percent," she whispered. "Sorry, but my emotions have come back like crazy. I don't just want what we have. I need it. I can't pretend I won't be difficult. I'll probably throw a tantrum now and then, but at the end of the day—"

  "At the end of the day," he said softly, putting his arm around her, "you'll have me to hold you, and spank you, and most of all, to love you."

  "Duncan, you always know the right thing to say."

  "Not always, but I try. I'm going back to the kitchen to clean up our dishes," he said, kissing her lightly and rising to his feet. "You stay here. I'll be right back."

  "Then I want to go to Harrods," she called after him. "I need some clothes."

  But when Duncan returned he found her stretched out and sound asleep. Realizing she still needed time to recover from the trauma, he covered her with a blanket, retrieved his laptop, and settled into the easy chair. She continued to nap through the rest of the afternoon, and as they watched television after dinner, he noticed her yawning and insisted on an early night. Holding her tenderly as she snuggled into his body, he felt her drifting off, but was woken the following morning by her hand on his cock.

  "Sorry about yesterday," she purred. "I felt drugged, but I'm better now."

  "No aches and pains?"

  "Only my aching need."

  "I see. Roll on your side."

  Slipping into her hot, wet sex from behind, he moved his hand around her hips and pressed his finger against her clit. Thrusting as he massaged the sensitive nub, he rode her into a tingling climax.

  "I'm purring," she murmured as she melted against him. "Can you hear it?"

  "I believe I can. What would you like to do once we're up and about?"

  "Harrods for some clothes, then lunch at some trendy, expensive place, then—"

  "Then I have an errand, and tonight we'll have dinner at a very special restaurant."

  "Finally, a life!"

  "Yes, finally," he said with a grin, "though I don't want to overdo it."

  "Duncan, you don't need to baby me. I'm absolutely fine."

  "If I decide you need babying…"

  "I'll do my best to humor you, but now I want to go shopping."

  * * * * * * * * * *

  A short time later they were climbing into a taxi on their way to Harrods, Brittany using a gift bag to carry her wallet and other essentials. Though the police had returned most of her belongings, the Ralph Lauren bag had remained with them.

  "This will be embarrassing," she mumbled, staring at her paper sack, "though my bag is probably purple. I couldn't have used it even if they had given it back to me."

  "Once you're inside Harrods you'll have so many purses to choose from, you'll stand there for an hour just gaping at them."

  "You don't know this side of me," she said with a wink.

  Though Brittany was from a small town, she was an ace shopper, and it took her just fifteen minutes to select the bag she wanted.

  "I'm impressed," Duncan said with a grin, watching her transfer her belongings. "You know what you're doing."

  "Yep, now to the jackets and coats."

  As she zoomed from department to department, quickly making her choices and whipping out her credit card, Duncan stood back with his arms crossed, a bemused expression on his face.

  "I think that's it," she declared, collecting a receipt for two warm jumpers. "I'm glad they deliver."

  "Not as glad as I am. I'd be carting around the packages if they didn't. Are you sure you're done? You don't need anything else?"

  "I think I've tortured you enough," she said with a laugh, "but I'll definitely be back. I feel as if I've only seen half the store."

  "Not even close to half. You'll have to be here a few times for that."

  "I'm definitely ready for lunch and a cup of tea. Two cups of tea."

  "Excellent. I just have to make sure we leave through the right exit."

  Winding his way thro
ugh the store, he left through a door on to a side street, then walked to the end of the block, turned a corner, and headed towards a restaurant with the words, La Soufflé across the window. Opening the door and gesturing for her to walk in ahead of him, they were greeted by a tall, attractive hostess.

  "Hello, Duncan, how delightful to see you again!"

  "Thank you, Arielle."

  "Please, follow me. Your favorite table is available," she declared, lifting menus from their holder and walking through the dining room. "How's your sister?"

  "She's very well. I'll tell her you asked."

  "Here you are. Have a wonderful lunch. Michel has some special soufflés on the menu today. The artichoke and cheese is to die for."

  "You must be a special customer," Brittany grinned as the hostess left.

  "I bring clients here, and it's one of Catherine's favorite places. The food is exquisite, and Michel, that's the chef, is amazing. I helped him out of a jam a few years back. I've been coming here ever since."

  "From Michel," Arielle announced, returning to place two small porcelain soufflé cups in front of them. "This is the artichoke and cheese I told you about, and the other, salmon fennel."

  As she walked away, Brittany picked up a spoon and tasted them both.

  "You have got to be kidding me," she murmured, rolling her eyes. "I want this every day for the rest of my life."

  "You said that about crumpets, and scones with cream and raspberry jam," Duncan said with a chuckle. "Keep this up and you'll be eating a few too many things every day for the rest of your life."

  "You're right, but I won't be complaining!"

  "Brittany there's a very special place I want to share with you," he said, lowering his voice and leaning across the table. "About an hour from here there's a magnificent estate called Andover Abbey. Did you watch Downtown Abbey?"

  "Absolutely. I loved that show. I actually cried when it ended."

  "Andover Abbey is almost as grand as the castle used in the series. It's been in the family for generations. When they faced the same challenges as many of the landed gentry, their solution was—shall we say—creative. At the time the family was immersed in some infamous sex scandals, so they decided to exploit their sinful reputation and turn it to their advantage. They started an exclusive club."