Rich Pickings (2 page)

“Right you. You might be able to loll around eating bacon all day but I’ve a wedding to get to.” I remember Dan’s admonition regarding his suit and decide it might be best to encourage Barney to wait elsewhere while I finish getting ready. Luckily he’s a biddable type and I have no difficulty shoving him back out into the corridor. I expect he knows the food is all gone so he may have been about to take his leave in any case. I shut the door on Barney and head for Dan’s bathroom to join him. I need to rinse my hands.

* * * *

The wedding is fabulous. Low-key, under-stated, but simply beautiful. Tom, Dan and Nathan are quite splendid in expertly fitted morning suits. Nathan is the best man and Tom has ushering duties so I traveled over to Greystones with Eva, Rosie and baby Isabella. Dan’s kiss in the bedroom as Nathan hollered up the stairs at him to get his arse in gear delivered plenty of promise for later, and my pussy is clenching and moistening in gleeful anticipation as I try to pay attention to the serious proceedings we’re gathered to witness.

The wedding passes in something of a blur, my mind firmly fixed on a point somewhere a little later in the day. I sit, stand, sing and pretend to listen as the registrar leads us through the service. I’m aware that the vows have been exchanged, the bride-kissing executed with a degree of enthusiasm which I’d describe as bordering on raucous, but maybe that’s just me.

The formalities concluded, I follow the rest of the party outside to the marquee where the food is being served, to nibble on dainty little sandwiches. Or maybe they’re canapés. I’m really not paying attention, my head is somewhere else entirely. And my pussy is bent on betrayal, moist and hot, spasming hard at the most inopportune moments.

“Sparkling wine, Summer?”

“Yes, thank you…”
Spasm.

“Would you like a slice of wedding cake?”

“No, I already…”
Clench.

I’m nervous, excited, disgustingly wet, and having the time of my life.

The music is lively, much of it delivered by Rosie and Eva. Not much of a dancer myself, I spend much of the afternoon chatting with Freya, and Eva when she’s not playing her violin. I’m acutely conscious of Dan’s presence as he moves around the guests. He occasionally catches my eye, a swift smile, a brief wink the only signals that there’s more between us. It’s enough though, and I’m happy to let the day float past me in a pleasant haze.

Freya and Eva seem to have become firm friends and I listen quietly while they discuss Tom’s latest business project, a proposed wind farm. Freya is very interested in the details, and even if she hadn’t already told me her intentions, I’d recognize the signs. I resolve to find an opportunity as soon as possible to ask her what she has in mind. And I have no doubt at all that she’ll have questions for me following her visit to Dan’s bedroom this morning.

What shall I tell her? That he fucked me, and it was wonderful? Yes, I could say that much. That he’s going to spank me for punching him yesterday, and I’m oddly calm at that prospect? Well yes, maybe I could say that too. That I’m starting to imagine him doing a whole lot more to me, and my pants get wet just thinking of it? Oh no, definitely not sharing that. Not yet anyway.

My head is whirling with the events of the last twenty-four hours, and for once that doesn’t bother me unduly. I have no idea how I feel, except that it’s broadly good. Dan both scares and excites me, and my stomach is churning as nervous, agitated butterflies seem to flutter their wings inside me. I really should have avoided the prawns—I suspect seafood and spanking will be a volatile combination for me. Still, too late now.

Is it disloyal to compare Dan and James? Possibly, but I can’t help it. James’ self-obsessed attempts at lovemaking versus Dan’s intuitive sensitivity to my needs. James’ clumsy fumblings only served to satisfy his own needs. He didn’t even know I was faking orgasms. Dan’s assured touch makes any thought of subterfuge both irrelevant and quite impossible. Dan would never be fooled by artful gasping and strategic clenching, not for a moment.

And what about those…others? The clients sent by my mother to my bedroom, men I serviced because it was easier that way, then got rid of, refusing even to look at their faces. Featureless, nameless, brutally erased from my memory, the details just a dark fog and better left that way. Even now, four years later, I still feel sick at the recollection, and there’s nothing of the sensual butterfly in that. This is just plain ugly, humiliating, shameful. And buried. I’ve moved on.

“Are you alright, Summer?” Freya taps me on the arm and repeats the question, her hands swiftly forming the words. I shake myself, pulled from my reverie back into the present.

“Yes, yes of course. I was miles away. Sorry.”

“Are you sure. You look pale.” This from Eva. “Doesn’t she, Dan?”

“Maybe. A little. Do you need some fresh air? A glass of water perhaps?” I turn to him in surprise. I never heard Dan approaching, but he’s taken the empty seat next to me and is peering anxiously at me.

“I’m fine. Really. Just a bit tired, that’s all. The traveling yesterday. Then the party, and it’s been a long day…”

“Well, not yet it hasn’t. I was going to ask you to dance with me, but if you’re not up to it we can sit this one out.”

“Oh no, you should dance. It’s a wedding, and everyone has to dance at a wedding.” Rosie sounds excited. She’s just arrived at our table, Barney on her heels. She tugs at Dan’s sleeve. “I’ll dance with you, Uncle Dan.”

“I’ll hold you to that later. For now, could you take Barney outside please? He’s not really allowed in here. And as for you, Miss Jones, are we dancing?”

“Are you asking?” I smile at him, my mood lightening.

“I’m asking.”

“Then I’m dancing.” He stands, holds out his hand.

I take it, and find myself drawn onto the dance floor. I’m not surprised to find Dan is an excellent dancer, another accomplishment to add to a growing list. His hold is possessive, comforting, assured but not restrictive. We whirl and glide through the crowd of other guests, and I seize the opportunity to wave to Ashley as she passes in Tom’s arms, and again in Nathan’s.

We’ve had no opportunity to chat today, and I don’t expect we will. I’d been hoping to have more time with her though before she goes off on her honeymoon. There’s still so much we need to catch up on.

“Have you enjoyed your day so far?” Dan’s breath tickles my ear as he leans down to whisper to me.

“Yes. Very much. I’m so glad Ashley contacted me.”

“Me too. So you enjoyed all of it? No second thoughts?”

He’s referring to the events of this morning. And yesterday on the steps to Black Combe. And the consequences yet to be addressed. I look up at him to meet his gaze and shake my head. “No. None.”

His smile is warm. “None so far. That’s good. And later? After we finish here? I know I came on strong yesterday and you were feeling pressured, taken by surprise. I need you to understand that I’m not going to force anything on you that you don’t want. Really don’t want. You can say no. Always.”

“I do know that.” I think. I’ve yet to say no to Dan and make it stick. But I don’t intend to try it tonight. “I accept what’s coming. I trust you. And I want you to understand that I really am sorry for what happened. For all of it.”

I’m referring to my bizarre behavior at the club all those months ago as well as the debacle yesterday, though I’m hoping Dan won’t press me too hard to explain. Not here. Later perhaps, when we’re alone.

“What’s coming? Mmm, that’s one way of putting it. I think you’ll survive, though. I’ve not spent much time with you this afternoon. I’m sorry about that but it’s been a bit manic.”

“I know. And it’s okay. I came to this wedding on my own. I don’t expect you to…”

“You may have come here alone but you’re not alone now.” Dan interrupts my flow of words, and I fall silent. Considering. He steers us toward the edge of the dance floor and into a secluded niche beside a huge potted palm. He tips up my chin with his fingertips and brushes his lips over mine.

“You were Ashley’s guest in the first place, now you’re mine. Okay?”

“Your…guest?”

“Just…mine.” He lowers his head to kiss me again, and there is no further conversation.

By seven in the evening I’m seriously flagging. Guests are starting to disperse, but there’s still quite a crowd as we all troop outside to watch the fireworks. I’d expected Ashley and Tom to disappear off on honeymoon somewhere, but they’re still here. According to Eva, Tom wants to oversee the initial stages of getting his wind farm scheme off the ground, so they’ve delayed their honeymoon for a couple of weeks. I’m glad, happy to have an opportunity to get to know Ashley all over again. Now that we’re back in contact I intend to keep in touch, but emails and Facebook are no substitute for good old face-to-face girlie chats.

I’ve no firm plans for returning to Cumbria, but I suppose it’ll be fairly soon. I’d wondered about scrounging a lift back to Kendall with Freya and Nick, but it seems they’re also staying for a few more days. Nick intends to be at the wind farm meeting. I’m not sure my welcome will extend that far, after all, I hardly know Nathan and even if I am Dan’s ‘guest’ it’s his brother’s house I’m staying in. What I do know is, I’m in no hurry to be away.

I wonder how long Dan will be here for?

My phone pings in my tiny clutch bag, signaling the arrival of a text. I’m surprised. Apart from Ashley, and now Freya, no one has my number. And they’re both standing on either side of me. I reach into my bag to pull out the phone.

Time to go.

What the…? It’s an unknown number. Well, in fairness all numbers are unknown as far as my phone’s concerned. I peer at the message, then look up and glance around me. No clues. Nothing.

Another ping. I press the little orange icon to reveal the new message.

Behind you. Nathan’s car.

I turn. Dan is lounging against the bonnet of Nathan’s sleek black Porsche, the driver’s door open. His phone is in his hand as he watches me from under lowered eyebrows. My stomach lurches, my pussy contracts, moistening. That look, pure Dom. He won’t be kept waiting.

I turn to Freya. “I need to leave. I’ll see you soon.”

“What? But, where…?” She stops signing as her gaze follows mine. She sees Dan, and knows the score.

“Right. Later then. Have fun.” She reaches up to kiss my cheek then turns back to the fireworks.

Fun? Maybe. Eventually. But first…

I walk slowly over to the Porsche, as Dan moves around the bonnet to open the passenger door.

Chapter Two

“Where are we going?”

I assumed we’d be headed back to Black Combe, but Dan drives straight past the junction leading up to Nathan and Eva’s house and on toward Haworth.

“Leeds.” Dan’s answer is succinct, and he seems inclined to offer nothing more. I have visions of a club, or perhaps a hotel. I’m tired, I hope for the latter.

“Where in Leeds?” I glance quickly across at Dan, his hard profile outlined in the dim light from the dashboard.

He’s a handsome man, devastatingly so, I’m fast appreciating, but his features now are stark, unrelenting. Gone is the gentle, playful lover who made love to me this morning and danced with me this afternoon. Here instead is the Dom bent on discipline, on teaching me obedience. And respect. I suspect I will learn those lessons well, no doubt starting with not questioning him. But still, I would like to know where we’re headed.

“Please, Dan. Sir. I
would
like to know. Where are we going?”

He relents, perhaps in response to my polite inquiry. “Nathan’s apartment in Leeds. You’ll like it there. It’s very well equipped.”

So, not clubbing then. I’m pleased. An apartment sounds fine. Better than fine. Private. Peaceful. But I’m struck by Dan’s odd choice of words.

“Well equipped? In what way?”

He shoots a swift, scornful glance in my direction before turning his attention back to the road. That look is enough, though, quite sufficient to clarify just what sort of equipment I might expect to encounter in Nathan Darke’s apartment in Leeds.

Shit
. I knew what was coming, but this makes it all so much more real.

“I see.” I fold my hands in my lap and gaze out of the passenger window at the passing countryside. Or as much as I can see in the darkness. Dan offers no additional details, leaving me alone with my thoughts for now.

The journey passes quickly, the traffic is light at this time and Leeds is only about twenty-five miles away. Soon we’re skirting the Bradford south ring road to pick up the motorway, and just minutes after that we’re pulling off the slip road toward south Leeds. Dan negotiates the route confidently, his hands relaxed on the steering wheel. I find my eyes drawn to his long, strong fingers, my pussy dampening as I recall how they feel inside me. Soon, I hope.

He signals left and takes a sharp turn, steering the car into a small tunnel leading to an underground parking area. I guess we’ve arrived then. Dan pulls up in a parking bay sporting the initials ‘ND’. He kills the engine and turns to me.

“Do you remember what I said to you about safe words? Back at the club in Lancaster?”

I don’t pretend to misunderstand. “Yes. Red for stop, amber for slow down.”

“Good. Use those any time you need to, really need to. Amber especially. I’ll be happy to give you time, explain anything you need me to. Red’s more serious. Use that only if you mean it. And, Summer, you don’t have to go through with any of this, you do know that?”

“Yes, Sir, I understand.” He made that perfectly clear on the dance floor. I accepted it then, and I still do.

“And? Still happy to be here? With me?”

Happy?
Perhaps not quite yet. But happy enough. I nod briefly.

Dan gets out of the car, and before I can follow him he’s come round to open my door for me. He offers me his hand to help me out, and I accept the unexpected chivalry. I’ve noticed this before, the strange juxtaposition of intimacy and humiliation with infinite respect and perfect courtesy. Dan is unfailingly polite and considerate. I recall he managed to remain so even as he strapped me, naked, to the spanking bench in Lancaster. He opens the car boot and pulls out a small overnight bag.