An American Submissive in Britain (4 page)

“Shit, am I that obvious?” Guy smiled. “She intrigues me, that’s for sure. She’s certainly not what I expected. Her emails were kind of uptight, you know? But she has a great sense of humor; I enjoyed her company on the drive down.”

Andy studied Guy’s face. “This is a purely professional thing, right?”

“Jesus Christ, Andy, I certainly hope so. Now would not be a good time for me to get involved with anyone.” He frowned and shook off the thoughts of Gina’s curvy, luscious body that had been present in his mind since she had left the room. “How about a quick beer before I leave?”

“Not a problem; have a seat, and I’ll join you when I’ve taken up your client’s luggage.”

With that, Andy grabbed Gina’s suitcase as if it weighed nothing and headed off through the pocket doors.

*
* * *

Gina followed Becky up a flight of narrow carpeted stairs and along a softly lit hallway to a room at the far end of the corridor. Becky turned to her when they reached the door and smiled.

“I chose this room for you specially. It’s my favorite, and I wanted you to be able to see the English countryside at its best first thing in the morning.”

Gina smiled in return. “It’s really kind of you guys to put me up at short notice like this. Have you known Guy long?”

Becky put a large key in the lock and turned it. “He and Andy go back years and years, and I’ve known Guy ever since Andy and I became a couple. Under all the serious solicitor stuff, Guy’s a great laugh. He does tend to be married to his job, though.” She pushed open the door.

Gina gasped with delight as she walked into what she could only describe as something out of
Pride and Prejudice
. “Oh my God, it’s amazing!” She took in the old-fashioned four-poster bed, antique dresser, and rich red and gold tapestry curtains, framing huge leaded glass windows. Thick cream rugs were scattered throughout, and a wrought iron chandelier held pride of place, hanging regally from the beamed ceiling. A fire burned merrily in the grate, giving out a warm glow through the room. “I can see why it’s your favorite,” Gina commented.

Becky smiled at her. “I’m so glad you like it. When Andy told me you were American, I wanted to make sure you got a real taste of old England.”

“Andy seems like a great guy,” Gina said, thinking about the interaction that had passed between the couple downstairs and wondering if it meant what she thought it meant. Or maybe her own longings were causing her to see D/s relationships where there were none. She figured the fantasy dreams were starting to muddle her brain. “How long have you two been together?”

“Nearly a year now,” Becky replied. “Well, I’ll go and get that hot chocolate. The bathroom’s just through that door, and I’ve left you two towels warming on the radiator next to the bath.”

“Thank you.”

The two women smiled warmly at each other, and then Becky left.

Gina wandered around the room in awe, and when she entered the bathroom, a huge white cast-iron claw-foot tub greeted her. The room was almost half the size of the bedroom with a black and white tiled floor and a smaller version of the leaded glass window. Rich red rugs lay in front of the tub and the ornate white sink.

It seemed impossible that less than twelve hours ago she had boarded a plane in Chicago and now, here she was in the middle of the English countryside, staying in an eighteenth century inn, walking around what felt like the film set of a classic English drama.

Gina jumped at the knock on the door. “Come in, it’s open,” she said.

Becky appeared with a steaming mug of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream. Andy was close behind, carrying Gina’s huge suitcase.

“All set then, pet?” he said in his soft Scottish brogue.

“Yes, thank you,” Gina replied, stifling a yawn.

Her two hosts smiled at her, and Andy put his arm around Becky’s shoulder, gently turning her toward the door. “I know it’s not late, but you must be exhausted. We’ll let you get to your bed now,” he said. “Make sure you have a good lie-in tomorrow. Hopefully, that will take care of the worst of the jetlag.”

Gina said goodnight and walked the two of them to the door. As she was closing it behind them, she heard Andy’s voice in the hallway. “I don’t think it’s going to get too busy from now ‘til closing. You go on up at around ten and have a bath. I want you naked and in our bed by eleven thirty.”

“Yes, Sir,” Gina heard Becky reply.

Gina clicked the door shut, and then moved to sit on the huge four-poster bed. So her instincts had been right. It seemed that Andy was Becky’s Dominant. To her surprise, she felt a stab of jealousy. They made a great couple, but her disastrous relationship with John, followed by his insults and desertion, still felt quite raw. Not only were Andy and Becky open and loving, but they lived together and ran an obviously successful business. Everything Gina had dreamed about having and had failed at so dismally.

Stop,
she scolded herself. She needed to stop wasting her time thinking about the past and embrace this new adventure.

After opening her suitcase and retrieving a long red T-shirt and her toiletries, she showered, standing in the ornate white tub, and brushed her teeth. Back in the room, she turned off the chandelier, switched on the bedside lamp, and slipped under the sheets of the medieval style bed, pulling the thick, warm red and gold blankets over her.

Instantly, her thoughts turned to Guy. She wondered what it would be like to be dominated by a man like him. To have him bend her over the edge of this big, old bed, her wrists restrained, then pull down her panties— What the hell was she doing? She hardly knew the guy, and just because his friends embraced the lifestyle didn’t mean he did as well.

She lay there trying to assess her thoughts. Oh God, no, no,
no
. This was not the time to get all hot and bothered over the English solicitor handling her late, estranged father’s estate. She was here to inherit a house and meet her other family, nothing more.

Her watch, sitting on the bedside table, said just after eight thirty, which meant that in America, it was two thirty in the afternoon. In an effort to occupy her wayward thoughts, she tried to call Maggie but got no answer. She figured her best friend must be busy at work and decided she would try again in the morning. Sighing, Gina turned out the lamp and lay back in the dark. Sleep evaded her, and after a few minutes, she groaned in exasperation.

Getting back out of bed, she went to the window and pulled back the heavy drapes. She could just make out the hilly fields across the road, dimly lit by the lamps at the front of the inn. It really was beautiful here and so peaceful after dealing with the hustle of Chicago.

Her eye caught a lone figure walking to a long, sleek car in the parking lot. It was Guy. By the lamplight, she could make out his big shoulders and long legs striding purposefully across the cobblestone. He stopped by the car and then turned, looking up at the window, right where she was standing.

Gina jumped back, turned and took a flying leap onto the bed. She grabbed the blankets and pulled them up to her chin, then started laughing. Shit, what was she, a fifteen-year-old schoolgirl? Why hadn’t she just given him a sophisticated ‘how’s it going’ type of wave and then walked calmly away from the window?

There was no getting away from it. Time to face reality—she had a thing for the dark, sexy British solicitor with the cool car. Fuck… This was
so
not good.

Chapter Three

Gina heard a soft knocking sound and slowly turned onto her back, stretched and opened her eyes, adjusting to the bright, morning light. “I’m coming,” she croaked, clearing her throat and trying again.

She walked to the door and unlocked it, peeking around the edge to see who it was, realizing as she did so that she probably looked a disheveled mess. Thankfully, it was just Becky, who proceeded to walk in, carrying the largest mug Gina had ever seen.

“I’m sorry to wake you,” Becky apologized, “but I know you and Guy arranged to meet at ten, and its half past nine now.”

“Oh crap!” Gina dropped down on to the edge of the bed and took the hot drink from Becky with a smile. “Thank you so much for waking me. It looks like a beautiful day out there.” She smiled. “No rain at all.”

Becky raised her eyebrows. “How come Americans think all it does is rain over here?”

Gina laughed. “I think it’s all those old 1930s and 40s British movies, you know—the adventure happened in a London fog, or on a dark and stormy night.”

“Okay, well, when you get back to the States, be sure to let them know that it was blazing sunshine and beautiful countryside from start to finish.” She grinned and walked to the door. “Do you fancy a full English fry-up, or just cereal and toast?”

Gina groaned. “Can I try the fry-up tomorrow? I think my stomach is still on U.S. time, which would be about three thirty in the morning.”

Becky grinned. “No problem. Toast it is. I’ll see you downstairs in a bit.”

Gina showered and dressed in a pair of tight black jeans and a cream sweater. After carefully applying liner, mascara and lipstick, she finished her mug of delicious English tea and then walked past the window to grab her cream suede boots. She stopped dead as she caught sight of the view outside.

It was just amazing. Spread out before her, miles and miles of beautiful rolling fields, farmhouses and small areas of woodland, all gleaming with their cover of frost. It all reminded her of a scene in a British movie she had seen, but the name of the film escaped her.

Catching sight of the time, she hurried over to the other side of the room, pulled on her boots, and then made her way downstairs to the main bar area.

The barroom was deserted except for a roaring fire burning in the huge brick fireplace. Gina settled herself at a table and got her cell out. She had promised to call her best friend, no matter what the time was back in the States, to let her know she’d arrived safely.

Becky brought in Gina’s breakfast, and as she put the food in front of her, Gina’s stomach gave a long growl of anticipation. They both laughed as Becky filled a tall glass with orange juice.

“This all looks great, thank you,” Gina said.

“You’re welcome, enjoy. I’ll let you know when Guy arrives.”

As she walked away, Gina punched in Maggie’s number and leaned back in the chair. Three rings later, she smiled as she heard Maggie answer, her voice sounding sleepy but so clear she might have been in the next room.

Gina told her about Mary and then described her trip to Newmarket with Guy.

“So what’s he like; is he as nerdy as I told you he’d be?” Maggie laughed on the other end of the line, fully awake now that the conversation had turned to men.

“Oh, he’s okay, you know, British and all that.” Gina deliberately kept it vague, knowing her friend would pick up on any little clue she might let slip on what she really thought.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Oh my God, he’s gorgeous, isn’t he? Tell me everything. He’s actually
not
all reserved and English-y then?”

Gina chuckled. There really was no hiding anything from her best friend. They had known each other since the fifth grade and had been inseparable since. “English-y? Are you serious? Is that a technical term for nerdy Brits or something?”

“Stop evading the question. I can tell by your voice that you think he’s more than
okay
, and I know exactly what type of guy you’re looking for. So do you think he might be into the lifestyle? Did he give you a hint or something?”

“Jesus, Maggie, which question do you want answered first? No, he didn’t give any hint that he might be a Dom. But get this, Mags. His good friend, who owns the inn I’m staying at, and his girlfriend are
definitely
a BDSM couple.”

“
WHAT!
Only you could travel over three and a half thousand miles to a strange country, and end up at some old-fashioned British inn run by a Dom and his sub. So what does your gut tell you? Is Mr. Sexy your next potential Dom?”

“Maggie, you’re crazy. What do you want me to say?
Hi Guy, would you like me to try out your new spanking bench for you? Maybe you could restrain me, too; I would love that, Sir!”

Maggie laughed as Gina took a bite of toast. Someone cleared their throat behind her, and she choked on her mouthful.

Swinging around, she saw Guy leaning against the doorframe, smiling, his eyebrows raised. Obviously, he had heard every word she had said.

Gathering every bit of dignity that she had left, which wasn’t a whole lot, Gina spoke into her cell. “Maggie, I’m going to go now. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Oh, fuck me, he’s standing right there, isn’t he? You’ve got your,
I’ve just opened my mouth and inserted my foot,
voice.”

“That’s right, Maggie, so, goodbye for now.” She clicked her cell off and placed it on the table.

Guy walked past her and pulled out the chair opposite hers. “I was going to show you the area around Newmarket this afternoon, but if you’d rather use my spanking bench, that’s absolutely fine with me; I’d be happy to accommodate you.” He leaned over and took a sip from her glass of juice. “Sir is fine, by the way. However, Master is just as acceptable.”

Gina felt herself blush. Oh, this was just great. The first full day of her British experience and she had managed to make a total fool of herself. There was no chance of him taking her seriously now.

Her gaze dropped to the table. “I’m sorry,” she replied, despondent. “My friend, Maggie, tends to get carried away sometimes. Obviously, you weren’t meant to hear that.”

Guy reached over and put a finger under her chin. “Hey,” he said in a soft voice. “No damage done. It was a private conversation, and I should have let you know that I was standing there. I’m sorry, too.”

Gina glanced up and smiled shyly. “Well, if it’s okay with you, I’d much rather stick with your original plan. Checking out Newmarket sounds a lot safer.”