Chase (18 page)

It’s mid-afternoon when we get back to his suite for a shower and a rest. I relax under the warm jet and close my eyes as I let the water run off me. All at once there’s a shift in the air around me and the jet comes at me sideways.

He’s standing beside me. He switches it off and pulls me into his arms, slides his hands all down my wet body and lingers on the swell of my breasts and the dripping, soapy mound of my bottom, still slick with scented gel where the spray’s not yet reached. ‘Need a hand?’

‘You offering?’ I try for playful but something in his manner makes me shiver. Maybe it’s the wet.

He turns me round to face him and finds my mouth in a full-on power invasion that warns me instantly this is partly play but partly something else.

‘You’re slippery here.’ He fondles my rear with loving sweeps of his hand, making me melt. As he teases my thighs apart with his knee I feel his erection jolt between us, hot on my damp skin. I reach down to feel it but he pushes my arm away with a gentle nudge and then grabs my wrists and pins my arms at my back.

‘Chilly? Some hot action will warm you up. Bend over.’

I gasp. ‘Here?’

He’s already turning me round, his intention plain. ‘Sure. When you’re nice and warm we’ll wrap you in a towel and we’ll go somewhere dry. Bend over and put your hands flat on the floor. Lean your head against the tiles for balance if it’s slippery.’

Now he’s smearing more shower gel all over my bottom, massaging it in, his thumbs working ruthlessly into my openings, his fingers hot and urgent. And just as I start to relax into his touch his hand lands on one side of my rump with a loud crash.

‘
Ouch.
That hurt.’ My wail was part real, part play. A flare of excitement sparks in my groin and spreads like wildfire all through my lower belly and down to my splayed fingertips.

Somewhere overhead I hear him chuckle. ‘Good. Again.’

His hand lands again and once more I cry out at the sting, but now I know what’s coming the flame flares higher, my arousal building in urgent, fierce stabs of heat that send signals all through my swelling folds in my shamefully exposed places, open for business with my legs so wide apart.

‘Keep your legs straight. You should aim for grace at all times when we do this.’

‘Whoa.
I should? Bent double like a wet rat? You try it.’

Overhead there’s a long pause, heavy with menace. ‘Do I detect
defiance
?’

His voice is deep as a cavern, thick with laughter. But his touch is firm and unyielding and now he’s reaching for more gel.

He curves over me, his lips moving close to my ear. I feel his erection jut painfully into the side of my thigh, a hot, living reminder of what awaits at the end of our session. ‘You just earned a spanking. Twenty strokes, more if you wriggle or make a fuss. And you may be interested to discover the physical properties of gel and the effect it has on surface tension.’

‘I may?’ I was burning up with excitement, longing for him to start. Now I’m having second thoughts, but I’m curious too. ‘Why? You want me to draw a diagram for homework?’

‘Maybe. Ready?’

His hand lands with another crash and this time it rises and falls in a regular, stinging volley of blows that almost jerk me off my feet. I thought he was joking about the science bit but I notice that here in the shower each blow on my wet, stickily gelled ass lingers seconds longer than normal and the pain is scarily prolonged. The spanking’s much harsher than when we’re dry.

Somehow the gel makes a big difference. I’ve no idea how or why and I sure as heck won’t ask. The feeling is extraordinary. It seems an age since we did this and somewhere deep down I sense, to my surprise, that I’ve missed it.

The thought makes me burn even more and now I’m quivering with arousal, trembling from holding my enforced position and desperate for release. His legs lean into me, warm and hard, his muscles rigid and uncompromising. One hand grips me at the hip and the other continues to fall, each stinging flash of pain a wake-up call, tingling all through my secret, quivering landscapes.

At last it’s done and I pant against the tiles, gasping for air as he holds me up and prods at my openings with his vast column, hard and urgent now.

‘How do you want it? Top or tail?’

I grin with excitement, hardly daring to believe we’re this close again after so many days of distance and doubt. ‘Both.’

I hear him chuckle as he spins me round to face him and pushes down on my shoulders. I kneel between his legs, bleary with steam and still smarting from his determined assault.

‘Greedy girl. Top first, then. Here we go.’

I smile up at him, astounded at the size of its hot, purplish engorgement, glowing and reddish here in the cool, pale spaces of blond marble that surround us. As I reach forward to lick his erection it jolts in excitement, making my lower regions throb even harder in response. As I take him in my mouth I hear him breathe out in a long sigh.

‘Shit, Ella. Your tongue’s like heaven.’ His voice is thick with emotion. For some reason this moves him deeply, and now I feel an answering throb down below as I ride him a little, taking him slow and then speeding up. From time to time I pull away to fondle him with gel-smeared fingers.

My rear end is all in flames, burning me up, and he’s right. I’m no longer chilly. I’ve never felt so hot, and nor has this. With tears squeezing out, still smarting from my unscripted spanking, I lunge along his shaft with trembling lips and let his salty richness fill my mouth and beat on the back of my throat. At this angle there’s little I can do about the gag reflex and I simply try to relax into it, pausing till it settles and lunging again. It slows my stroke so this time even the choking is a turn-on as I battle my reflexes. Soon he sees my struggle and takes hold of my head to guide me.

‘Hey. Take your time. We’re not going anywhere for a while. Make it to the root three more times and then we’ll slip into something more comfortable.’

Obediently I push forward and ram my lips hard against his hard, hair-sprinkled abdomen and at last he eases me away while I gasp for air and dash away happy tears.

When he hauls me to my feet I’m shaky with emotion.

He frowns. ‘You OK?’

I grin as I lean forward to kiss his jaw. ‘You have to ask? I’m soaking wet, my eyes are smarting and I’m horny. And right this minute that’s not in the least bit OK. Somebody mentioned tail.’

His slow smile is worth a dozen spankings. ‘They sure did. And a certain greedy person asked for both.’ He finds my mouth and kisses me deep. He hurls a vast fluffy towel all round me, scoops me up and carries me into the bedroom. ‘And that’s just what she’s going to get.’

I land on my hands and knees on the covers. Darnley hauls off the towel and runs his hand over my backside. I glow under his cool touch.

‘Mm, very nice. And what have we here?’ He slips a hand deep into my splayed gap and discovers my moistening shame, all my swollen, pulsing little places greedy to be filled.

‘Ripe and ready. Just how we like it. The lady ordered some tail? Coming right up.’

And with that he plunges inside, his hot shaft filling my belly and pulling away again like the sea on shingle. He reaches round and fondles my breasts, his fingertips teasing my jutting nipples.

I whimper, frantic now with want. ‘Pease, please …’

A sudden sharp nip of his fingernails on my backside makes me yelp. ‘Hey. I say what you can and can’t have. Any more noise and I’ll spank you again. You want to come? Say so, Ella. I want to hear you say it.’

He’s still pounding, his body ramming against me, his column plunged at full length every time. How can he do this for so long? It’s unnatural …

‘Please, please, I want –’ He knows perfectly well what I want. I wheedle and plead, genuinely desperate.

I feel a flurry of warm fingertips against my sex. I convulse round his hand as he pumps into me, his hard, muscular loins fused to my soft curves, his honed body curved over my damp, quivering back.

My climax ripples through me as I collapse under him. He curls round me on the bed, hauls up the towel and cuddles me dry, his hunger briefly tamed.

‘Wow, you’re sensational, my pet.’

Later we snatch a bite to eat before we change. I’m too nervous to eat much.
What am I wearing?
Infuriatingly, his mysterious smile gives me no clues. I give in gracefully, resigned to pumpkins or polar bears, possibly both. I pick at the trolley placed just inside the door to our room, laden with tempting canapés and small sandwiches, olives and fruit.

If I look like an idiot this evening he’s only got himself to blame.

At last I’m showered and made up, my hair piled high and my underwear crisp and lacy under my short silk robe. He emerges from his dressing room, immaculate in a tux. He’s holding a black Halloween mask in one hand and what looks like a fistful of cotton candy in the other.

‘So, costumes?’ My heart skips as he slips on his mask. Instantly he looks mysterious and sinister as the black mask stresses the line of his jaw and the long, near-cruel mouth.

‘I’m wearing mine.’ He steps close, pushing away my robe so it slips away and pools on the floor. ‘And this is yours.’ With a flick of his wrist he shakes out the cotton candy. It morphs into a short, light tunic in pale, multi-layered chiffon. It reaches to mid-thigh, the hemline floaty and ragged.

I stare, not sure what to make of this. I stretch up my arms and he slips it over my head with a mysterious Lone Ranger smile. The fabric flutters around me. It has a slender panel of black lace running at an angle from one shoulder down to the opposite hem.

It’s barely a wisp but it looks like a one-off. It may have cost a fortune. Now he produces a long, thin string of glittering brilliants. He first winds it round my waist and then crosses it between my breasts and again at the back before knotting it loosely behind. I stare at myself, in the mirror, entranced.

I look like a fairy escaped from the ballet. He looks like he’s come in from the cold. We make a dramatic pair, oddly chic.

I grin at his reflection, still none the wiser. ‘So what am I? A fairy? Ancient Greek slave-girl?’ Below the frothy chiffon my legs look long and slim. Next to his dark, sinister elegance I look innocent, delicate and vulnerable. ‘Give me a clue. What am I supposed to be?

He grins. ‘From where I’m looking? Wolfe bait.’ With a flourish he produces my mask. It dangles from his fingers, a wisp of simple black lace matching the panel on my skimpy gown. As he fixes it in place my eyes gleam through, transforming it into the blue, bejewelled wings of some exotic butterfly.

But I’m still in the dark.

He puts an arm round my shoulders and grins at me in the mirror. ‘We’re going as Beauty and the Beast.’ His mouth twists cynically at the corner. ‘You’re Beauty, and I’ll just go as me. They all find me pretty scary anyway.’ His grin fades. ‘And now these.’ He flips up the lid of a box lying on the table behind him and produces the bracelets.

His eyes lock on mine as he snaps them in place. Tension crackles instantly between us. The costumes may be fun, the evening a hoot. But in the flick of an eyelash the fairy-tale turned scary-tale.

Beauty faces a real Beast. And the scariest part of all?

She’s not sure how far he’ll go or how wild he’ll get.

Outside the Astoria we hurry past the banks of hopeful press crowding the sidewalk, routinely snapping the wealthy and hoping to spot a celeb or two for a bonus. I try to look serene under the blaze of flashbulbs but I’m still unused to press attention. It must show.

With the bracelets catching every flash I certainly look the part. My bling is a nice touch, even if their weight and the fact that he has the key remind me at all times that even here fairyland has a dark side.

The thought is disturbing.

Darnley ignores the fuss and hurries me inside.

On the second floor we check in our coats and hand in our invitation and then make our way up to the third-floor splendour of the vast ballroom, ablaze with mirrors and chandeliers.

Darnley takes firm hold of my hand and pulls me close. ‘You look sensational,’ he whispers.

‘You too.’ I smile shyly up at him and for a fleeting moment it feels like we’re all alone in this weird land full of giant frogs, fairy queens and colourful clowns. We wait in line with the highwaymen and Cinderellas. Masked guests are being announced by costume, by a flunkey in gold braid and buckled shoes.

‘
Beauty and the Beast.
’ As people turn to stare I actually hear gasps from some of his relatives. The close family all get the joke and there’s a ripple of applause and even some laughter.

Darnley’s massively pleased and leads me over to greet Aaron and Lydia. They’re presiding at one end of the room, garbed as eighteenth-century European royalty. Aaron looks pompous in a flower-sprigged waistcoat, Lydia regal in a hooped gown with a tall pompadour wig and vivid rouge.

From Aaron my scanty costume sparks a glint of approval and an instant request for a dance. Darnley looks on with narrowed eyes and his hand firmly at my waist while Lydia gives him a brief kiss and greets me warmly.

‘Ella, my dear. You look lovely. And I’m so glad you made the effort. Not like some I could mention.’ She arches an eyebrow towards Eldon and Billy, laughing in a large group a few feet away, already merry on champagne.

They quickly join us. Eldon slaps Darnley on the back, his stern downward glance noting my bling-laden wrists. Mercifully he’s in no mood to carp.

‘Beast, eh? Reverting to type, bro? Neat. And how about us? Cool or what? Told you we’d shock everybody.’

Billy kisses me and takes a step back. ‘Wow, Ella. You look stunning. But I guess we take the prize.’

They’re in full baseball kit – T-shirts, jeans and caps, with matching masks thrown in – but they’ve switched teams. Eldon’s wearing the Red Sox strip and Billy the Yankees’. To everyone else here they’re just wearing sports kit, barely costumes at all. But to them it’s a big deal. It signals the end of a long and surprisingly fierce dispute.