Chase (28 page)

It may be crazy but it’s touched with greatness.

Now he’s standing very still, the chiffon bunched in his hand. I lean up to kiss his cheek and move sinuously against his loins. Through his trousers I feel his business sector glow against me, filling already.

His eyes narrow. ‘
Whoa
. Too much of that and I’ll have to change the suit.’

I grow serious for a moment. ‘Do you want to talk?’

‘We just did.’

‘
Really
talk.’ I shake my head, sadly. ‘You need a therapist.’

His jaw stiffens. ‘You are my therapist.’

‘You know what I mean. A real one.’

His eyes glitter. All at once he’s borderline scary. ‘You’re all I need. Now put it on.’

Quickly I step into it. The whisper-soft chiffon settles around me in a cloud. He follows every move but I shiver.

‘What’s up? Ella?’ He scans my face, his eyes full of concern.

I have to say it. Guilt clutches my throat and stings behind my eyes.
I’ve brought him to this.
‘Darnley, I’m so sorry about all this. It’s my fault. If it hadn’t been for that drama class –’

All at once he’s gripping my arms, his eyes blazing. ‘Listen to me. Nothing about this is your fault.’ He pulls me close, crushing me to him. I feel his hands on my hair, around my waist and along my flank. His fierce whisper stirs in my hair.

‘It happened a long time ago. We thought it was history. All I wanted was to forget and move on. But the second I saw that Forman kid I knew it was still out there. I knew that one day it had to come out, all of it. Evil never goes away. It just sits there and seeps.’ He pulls away and looks at me, his eyes burning. ‘I’m only sorry you got involved. But in another way I’m glad. You’re the only reason I can face this.’

His thumb moves gently on my cheek and slowly his lips find mine and he holds me in a long, deep kiss. When he pulls away his expression is unreadable, his face drained of emotion. ‘Hold out your hands.’

I know what’s coming. A spike of fear fuses with a surge of arousal so intense I feel the down rise on my legs. All at once he smiles, like he senses my turmoil. ‘Hungry?’ He holds out the bracelets and clamps them in place. ‘Does the fairy princess have
needs
? I think I should be told.’ His eyes narrow. ‘
In detail.
’

I step closer and wind my arms round his neck. ‘I can ask for something? Usually you do all the talking when I’m in these.’

His hands move gently along my sides, following my curves. He feels hot and strong through my flimsy silk. I feel a shimmer of energy ripple over my skin as he finds my breasts and scoops them over my under-wires so he can torment me through my wispy gown.

My gaping neckline leaves little to the imagination. In the mirror I look horny as a hooker, blowsy and brash, nearly nude in my delicate chiffon.

Slowly I shift my gaze to the stunning, elegantly suited individual standing at my side. Our eyes lock in the mirror, his full of heat and mine dark with lust.

He needs this.
Me too.

I run the tip of my tongue slowly over my lip and raise my chin. The hooker shimmers back into fairy queen, slender but carnal
.
‘That looks to me like one very bad girl.’

His slow, answering smile makes me break into a sweat. ‘And we both know what happens to bad girls, right?’

In seconds he’s sitting casually on the edge of the bed and he’s bending me swiftly over his lap, tapping at my knees and the backs of my thighs to get me into the position he wants. The spanking part I understand, the painful and the disturbing parts and the long, slow build-up to some unspecified but devastating conclusion – all these I understand too.

What I don’t understand is why I crave this so much.

Next second his hand lands and I shout. Soon he sets up a rhythm, the stings blending into a hot, golden glow.

Every time he does this I forget how dramatic it feels. His body is curved over me, his powerful legs rigid beneath me. His hand lands time after time. I’m thrilled by the power of his will pinning me over his knee, fascinated by his strength.

I feel as helpless as a butterfly splayed on a board.

Everything I thought about myself disappears out of the window. Every scrap of my dignity somehow dissolves under his energy, leaving me writhing, primal and ready – for
him
.

When it ends I hang over his knee for a moment, panting and limp from excitement. But now some feral part of me, long asleep, has awoken and wants satisfaction.

In a single bound I clamber into his lap and straddle him, my knees driving into the mattress at either side as I trap his thighs between mine, my arms whipping around his neck like vines as I plunder his mouth and ram my pulsing, feverish mound hard up against his bulging flies.

In seconds I’m pinned below him and he’s leaning over me, his eyes blazing. ‘
What the …
? Ella, what got into you?’

I smile lazily up at him, high on endorphins, crazy with need. ‘You’re the Dom. You tell me.’ I reach for him but he grips my arms, forcing me back.

‘Damn right I’m the Dom. And unless you calm down you’ll have one very sore ass by the end of the night. Is that what you want?’

I’m sick of arguing. He always wins. ‘Fuck me, dammit. I want to eat.’

His eyelids lower. ‘Never offer an opponent two ways out. You want to fuck? Or you want to eat? Which? One or the other.’

I glare at him. He’s good at this. I feel him shift subtly, pressing some places almost to numbness, like my pulsing mound and my crushed belly. Others, like my swelling breasts and my eager, empty mouth still quiver for attention, longing for his touch to set me aflame.

I lower my eyelashes, playing kitten. ‘You heard the running order. Action, then food. If you don’t want me on fire you should have kept me cool.’

We’re laughing now as he hauls me upright and pulls me into his arms. ‘Action coming right up.’

As he frees himself he grabs me by my neck and bends me low so I can take him in my mouth and get him wet. At least, I always thought that was what he did. Now, in a flash of understanding, I see why he does this. It’s to force me into submission.

The thought should be a sobering one but I’m no longer in a sober mood. I giggle a little as I lick him willingly.

His low murmur does nothing to calm me down. ‘Do I detect defiance? Disrespect, even? That bad girl just got a whole heap worse. I’m keeping count. Now get your luscious little tail up here.’

He pushes me over onto my hands and knees, patting me into the pose he wants and then he kneels up and curves over me, one hand clutching at my breasts, his fingers busy on my stiffened nipples and the other hand tipping up my chin so I have to arch my neck to listen. ‘Now you’ll get your wish. But you’re not to come. Understand?’

‘Why not?’ Outrage sparks fury. In a primitive reflex I jerk my head aside and bite his finger.

It must hurt. His hand clamps squarely on my jaw and holds my head rigid. All at once his voice is low – but cold. ‘
Hey
. Calm down. I say what we do. I say when you come. OK? Say yes. And mean it.’

I feel him smile against my ear as he breathes out, long and slow.

‘And say
sir.
’

I feel a deep surge of relief. We’re still playing. For a split second I thought I’d gone too far …

‘And biting earns you another spanking. Four swats. Say thank you.’

Yikes.
‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.’ Just saying it sends shivers through me, where before I was rampant and eager.

His revenge is instant and hurts like crazy. If I thought his hand was full-strength before I’d no idea. Now I’m burning up, humiliated – and
throbbing
, my tight little place live as a wire. All this is so shaming, so primitive.

And somehow, though my sensible, normal self would never openly admit it, so
necessary.

When he’s done I gasp for air. There’s a soft rustle of fabric behind me and he prods at my opening, his hot, huge erection both a comfort and a peril. The sight of his size and his girth at moments like this always stops my breath, but the
feel
of him, especially after action like this, makes me flinch. How will he ever get in there? He feels so big …

‘Hold still.’

All at once he does get in there, with a slick, delicious plunge that fills me up. As my lustful muscles haul him in and I clutch greedily around him, I wonder fleetingly if he’ll ever get out again. He feels so
good
, so right.

I close my eyes and clench, willing him to linger, relishing the jolt of his body as he slams repeatedly into me, the aftershocks rippling through my belly and sending little pulses of sensation into my swollen, twitching little crannies until I swear I’ll come without any touch at all. But as he finally spills into me I feel the force of his heat and the glow of his release, while his hot loins feel cool against my burning, glowing backside. But to my fury I’m still high and dry.

It would take just the flick of a finger. One more jolt …
‘Please, please, just a little more. I’m so close …’

Above me I hear him laugh, and now he gets his own back with a sharp nip on my earlobe before he buries his face in the side of my neck and feasts on my sweat-soaked shoulder with a long, hungry kiss. ‘You heard. You’re not to come. And no touching. I mean it. Now we eat.’

As he pulls me to my feet I glare at him. He fastens himself quickly and in seconds he’s immaculate, elegant, his hair hardly ruffled, his expression mildly amused.

I feel like a dishrag, limp, hot and randy. Luckily the wispy chiffon is more resilient and after a few seconds it floats once more around me, innocent and carefree.

With deft movements of his long fingers he rearranges my dress and then scoops my panties off the floor and holds them up on the end of his finger.

‘All yours. Suck the end of my finger first. I want to watch your mouth.’

Now I see that my submission is to be paid in instalments.

All at once the game is fun again and newly arousing. As I slowly lick his finger he watches, his expression so intent my aching places burn and rage, longing for his touch – or even mine. The thought that he’s imposed a ban makes them ache even more.

Dinner is delicious. Our table is set up in his sitting room, the lighting already low, and somewhere I can hear music – not singing this time, but the tinkle of a rippling piano – Chopin, I think.

The mood is softened by candles, their random flicker giving a kind of low sparkle to our conversation. Silver-domed dishes have been left on the side and we serve ourselves, leaning across the table to tease each other with tempting forkfuls, scooping sauce up with our fingers and tasting again.

We talk about everything and nothing – and never once about tomorrow.

I calm down enough to eat, while my arousal still burns. He pours the wine with abandon but after my second glass I laugh and shake my head. Afterwards we lounge on the sofa, sipping coffee, while I hoist my skirt now and then to allow him glimpses of my hidden places and he laughs and torments me with his fingertips to see how ready I am.

As we leave for our night on the town he wraps the cashmere cloak round my shoulders and assures me where we’re going no one will see much.

And when we finally get there I’m still so hyper I hardly care that I look like a hooker but to my surprise I blend in perfectly because this is a place where the music is loud, the strobes are low and colourful, the cocktails are fierce and the dancing is wild – nearly as wild as I feel.

We have a terrific time.

We dance till late, until I’m weary, limp and still desperately horny. The lights grow dim and I hardly notice the faces that swim around us as we dance. I may even know some of them.

In the car on the way back I huddle against him for warmth, my sheer chiffon, even swathed in satin-lined cashmere, not much protection against the sharp cold of the streets or the weary chill stealing over me despite Bullen turning up the heating and Darnley crushing me in his arms.

We tumble onto his bed in the small hours and in seconds he’s filling me again, slowly this time, holding me down by my bling-cuffed hands and leaning over me like a demon as he reads my building arousal, looming closer at every thrust of his hard, hot loins as he rides me to climax.

The deep, soft, earth-shattering explosion rockets through me, propelling me into some kind of dreamland, where I float on a sea of pleasure and drift into sleep almost at once as he curves around me, wraps me in his arms and folds me in love.

Next day I wake late, still adrift. Beside me the bed is empty, the sheets cold. My head feels split in two. Sunlight streams around me as I blink into the bright new day.

School’s out. I’m not at work today but I’m doing something important.

What is it?

I sit up, horrified at myself.
It’s the day of the meeting.
And it’s nearly noon.

I’ve overslept.

I wash and dress in a panic, summon some tea and pump Verna for information. She gives me a soothing smile as she places a tray of toast, orange juice and a small bowl of grapes on the side. ‘Mr Bullen will drive you into town, ma’am. Mr Wolfe left orders you were to join him as soon as you woke.’

In my panic to get on the road I’ve forgotten my headache. Now it punches in with a vengeance. I gulp down a couple of painkillers with my tea, zip up my boots and button up my slim designer coat. Clutching my soft fur-lined collar I race down the steps.

I hoped I’d look stylish and in control. My mounting panic warns me it’ll take more than a coat. I’m out of breath as I clamber into the waiting car. ‘Anything happened yet, Bullen?’

‘Not that I know of, ma’am. They expected a decision after lunch.’

As we drive into town fear shrivels my stomach. All I can think of is Darnley, his pain and his shame exposed to the world. Maybe they’re looking at it right this minute, the legal teams and the judge who have to decide if there’s a case and how far this will go.

The thought of them all gawping at his dreadful story
turns my stomach. All his life he’s tried to bury this, he’s tried to save his brother from ever knowing about this, and he’s tried to save his family from having to unravel their terrible web of guilt and expose the truth. It’s all been torn apart by the chance arrival of a troubled, penniless teen.