The Accidental Bride (16 page)

‘How rude?’ He slapped again, inciting inferno, and again. ‘How rude?’ he demanded, pausing, then inclining forward over her, pressing his crotch against her bottom, rubbing himself on her heat. His empty hand curved around her hip, holding her steady as he massaged her with his cock. That hurt too, but she lifted herself, pressing back against him.

‘Oh … just stuff. About what a horny pervert you are, and how colossal that thing is that you’re jamming against me.’

But it was more than that, and more scary. He could see her heart, when sometimes his was opaque to her.

‘Sweetheart,’ he whispered, as if he’d read that thought too.

For a few moments he just rested against her, enjoying the stimulus of the warmth of her punished bottom cheeks on his aroused flesh. Then he swirled his hips again, rubbing, rubbing. Was he going to come?

But then, he straightened up. ‘I’m going to spank you for just a little longer, my darling, because the way you wiggle and moan, and the gorgeous cherry glow in your bottom, is so divine. And then you’re going to tell me what this secret thing is you’re keeping from me.’ He laid the flip-flip against her right buttock, as if retrieving his ‘sighting’ of it. ‘Because despite your claims that I read your mind all the time, missy, I have absolutely no idea what the devil it is.’

Between gritting her teeth, and groaning, Lizzie smiled. She’d completely forgotten about Brent and Tom for the moment, but it was nice to know something John didn’t know, for a change.

What was it, this secret? John had no clue, and he didn’t care. His whole focus was Lizzie. Her peerless body. The way she moved. The skin of her bottom so pink. Her bold, sweet, happy spirit, playing the game with him, easing all his anxieties.

Even as he watched, she undulated against the thickly upholstered lounger, massaging her crotch as if she was so full of erotic energy that she couldn’t contain it within herself. The thick mass of her coal-black hair slid on her shoulders, still damp, and the muscles of her back flexed. Her buttocks were tense and hot, marked a little by the rubber sole of the flip-flop.

He wanted to kiss them. He wanted to mark them more. He wanted to come all over them, pearls spattered across rose.

Enough prevaricating, man!

He brought the flip-flop down and she yelped, squirming hard. Magnificently, though, she gripped on to the top edge of the lounger, fingers digging in. A lesser woman would have grabbed her own flesh to ease the
ache, but Lizzie held fast. He brought the sandal down again and she only gasped this time, controlling herself, controlling him.

‘God, woman … I can’t fight it any more …’ Grabbing at her hips, he lifted her up. She hissed as his fingers caught the edge of her redness, but she didn’t resist and allowed herself to be draped, sideways, half across the lounger. ‘I don’t have a condom handy … we’ll have to extemporise. A bit of rubbing … a bit of wriggling … Do you think you’d like that? Don’t worry, though. I’ll get you off.’

‘I have every confidence in you, boss man,’ she purred, looking over her shoulder, her eyes wild.

With a growl, he flung himself across her, pushing down his trunks and pressing his aching cock against the heat in her bottom. The sensation was piquant, fabulous, feverish, and her gasps, and the way she hissed through clenched teeth, were like strands of super-pleasure winding themselves around his flesh. His body clamoured at him to go for it, take what he wanted, to rub and frott himself against her in blind, greedy lust.

But no! No! There had to be pleasure for her too, or his own release would be empty.

The lounger creaked ominously as they rocked against it, but still held up. John reached around beneath Lizzie’s smooth belly, his fingers zeroing in on her pussy, wiggling in amongst the soft dark hair and finding her clit. He jerked harder, using the momentum of his body to work for him and for her too, a gallop of pressure and friction, cock and fingers, heart and soul.

‘Yes! Yes!’ he chanted, pretty words lost in the intensity. But he didn’t have to flatter or sweet-talk her, or even dirty-talk
her, because she knew he cared for her. For all her talk about not being able to read him, he was certain that she could.

And he’d praise her to the skies when he got his mind back, afterwards.

Climax barely took a few moments. While molten fire seared its way down his spine and enveloped him, his cock jerked and bucked, disgorging semen onto her rosy pink bottom in haphazard spurts.

‘Lizzie … Lizzie,’ he crooned, brain gone, functioning on auto.

But still, love actuated his fingers. Love and pure instinct. He couldn’t think, but he could still rub her, still caress her, and he almost sobbed as she cried out his name, coming too.

Lizzie prised John’s hand out from beneath her. It must be going to sleep with their combined weight pressed upon his wrist. She smiled when John wiggled his fingers to stir the circulation, and then straightened up, behind her. Liberated, she knelt up too.

His mouth settled on her shoulder. A soft kiss, almost a salute.

‘Are you OK, sweetheart?’ His breath ruffled her hair.

Was she all right? Hell yes! Even the hot glow in her spanked bottom was already morphing towards pleasant heat, and the sweet memory of submission, rather than out and out pain. Obviously it’d be a bit sore when she sat on it, or accidentally knocked against something, but John was so skilled, with both hand and implement, that he’d never once hurt her in a bad way.

‘I’m fine … I’m good.’ She reached around and touched
herself. Yes, sore, but not agonising. ‘A bit sticky, for obvious reasons, but otherwise, nothing that won’t fade sooner or later.’ She gave him a sultry look over her shoulder. ‘And the orgasm was very nice indeed. Very nice.’

‘Good.’ He looped his arms around her belly and she felt his cock against her bottom again, quiescent against the glow. Not that it was likely to stay that way for long, knowing John. He had a young man’s recovery powers, and an almost infinite appetite for pleasure. ‘Maybe we should both cool off in the pool again?’

He gave her a brisk kiss on the side of her neck, then stood up behind her, urging her up too. As she turned to him, he peeled his swimming trunks all the way down and stepped out of them, lifting his sandy eyebrows at her provocatively as he straightened up and kicked the garment away.

‘Well, we’ve got the place to ourselves. Let’s swim in the buff, eh?’

But what if someone called? Some unexpected visitor. A tradesman or something?

Still she grinned, though, and reached down to where her suit was still bunched around her thighs.

‘Let me,’ said John, sinking down gracefully and easing the suit down her legs, then letting her step out of it as she leant on his shoulder for balance.

It seemed uniquely piquant to be standing naked here, in the daylight, even in this, their own private space. They’d swum naked in France, in the villa’s pool, and visiting a plage privée, but this was different, the north of England, the place where they conducted their everyday lives.

John smiled again, his eyes telling her he understood how it seemed to her. Reaching for her hand, he kissed it,
then touched her face, sweeping her still damp hair back from her brow.

‘Dive … or drop in?’ he asked.

‘Oh, drop in, I think … with this.’ She brushed her fingers against her simmering bottom, the jolt of contact creating a tiny new plume of nascent desire.

John led her forward and they slid smoothly into the pool, together. The water was divinely cool against her spanking, and she looked up at the blue sky through the translucent UV-filtering roof over the pool. She’d thought the villa in the south of France had been paradise, but this, their home, was Shangri-La.

Anywhere with John was the perfect place to be. Despite complications, despite issues, anywhere with him was home. Was right.

They trod water for a while, lazily flapping arms and legs, in just sufficient movement to keep them afloat. Lizzie closed her eyes, focusing on the contrast between different degrees of temperature. The gentle, moderate blood heat of the pool; the ebbing fires in her bottom. She imagined John, floating in the same way, eyes closed, and then got a surprise when she opened her eyes and found him watching her, speculation in his gaze.

‘Ah, the secret,’ she said. ‘I promised I’d tell you, didn’t I?’

He beamed. ‘You did. You told me I’d have to beat it out of you, and I fulfilled my part of the bargain.’

Drawing in a deep breath, Lizzie stroked her way closer to the side of the pool, and secured a hold on the lipped edge. This was going to take some telling, even though she suspected that John would find the news a pleasant if ironic surprise.

‘I’m not quite sure where to start with this … But you
know I mentioned that Brent had a new boyfriend?’ Beside her, also holding lightly on to the lipped edge, John nodded. ‘And you mentioned to me that your brother Tom had a new man in his life too?’

John blinked, then laughed softly.

‘Well, fuck me!’

‘I would if we had a condom handy.’

John aimed a little splash her way. ‘Yes, that, obviously. But really, Brent and Tom? How on earth did that come about?’ He smiled and moved forward, clearly eager for the details. ‘I had no idea they’d ever even met.’

He’s pleased. He’s really pleased.

Lizzie wondered why she’d had any qualms about telling him. Brent’s life was Brent’s life, and Tom’s life was Tom’s life, and there was no reason why John shouldn’t consider Brent an entirely suitable man for his brother.

‘They actually met long before you and I ever did, believe it or not.’

As they floated lazily in the water, Lizzie recounted the story as Brent had told it to her. The one-night stand. The chance meeting in the Waverley. The realisation by both men that they wanted more.

John was silent for a moment when the story was done, and Lizzie felt a pang of disquiet, only to have it banished when he grinned broadly.

‘Well, I never would have predicted this one, I must say, but I wish the pair of them well. Brent’s been through the mill, and Tom’s taken some serious shit from the family over his sexuality, and stood up to them. I’m happy they’ve found each other again.’

Lizzie surged forward through the water and hugged him and kissed him. The resulting commotion unsettled
their buoyancy and they both ended up sinking beneath the water, only to burst up again, laughing and spluttering.

‘I’m so glad you’re pleased,’ she said, panting and wiping water out of her eyes. ‘Brent’s a good man … and your brother sounds lovely. I’m happy they’ve found each other too.’

‘Everyone’s a winner!’ announced John roundly. ‘Shall we get out of the water now, dry off, and then celebrate in absentia that your friend and my brother have got together? With another of your cocktails or maybe a bottle of Champagne?’ With a grin on his face, he moved towards her, gliding smoothly through the water, and then kissed her on the lips. ‘And some condoms, perhaps?’ he added, winking outrageously.

‘Well, that’s a bit weird, Mr Smith,’ she shot back, but couldn’t help grinning back at him. How would she keep a straight face when she next saw Brent, knowing that she’d toasted him getting a new boyfriend with Champagne … and a shag?

‘Ah, but as you know full well, sweetie, I’m a very weird man.’

‘True. But that’s a good idea, the Champagne. And the other thing.’

‘Mm … the other thing,’ said John, giving her a quick, splashy kiss, then hefting himself easily from the pool, powered by the strength in his arms. ‘Do you think you can manage the other thing, with a tingling red bottom?’ Turning and reaching down for her, he hoisted her out effortlessly too.

Standing naked on the deck, looking into his face, Lizzie winked. ‘I’ll manage somehow. There isn’t much on the face of this sweet earth that would keep me from the other thing with you, boss man.’

‘I didn’t think so,’ said John, stealing another kiss.

Later, lying face down on the bed, and enjoying the afterglow of quite a lot of the other thing, Lizzie gazed at John, lying beside her.

Was he asleep? His eyes were closed. He looked relaxed. They’d made love a couple of times since the pool. First, with John sitting on the bench in the changing cabana downstairs, and most recently here in bed, with Lizzie on top, riding him furiously. Both times, he’d been scrupulously careful to avoid stirring up the furore in her spanked bottom, although now it was barely more than a simmering, nostalgic glow.

The flat screen television on the far wall was on, but with the sound low, and neither of them had really been watching it for a while. Twisting, Lizzie reached for the remote and snapped it off, having no interest in the rather lurid true crime show.

‘I was listening to that.’ John smiled, but didn’t open his eyes. Lying naked against the pale bedding, he looked like a debauched angel, his blond curls awry, his body gleaming. Lizzie eyed his cock. It was currently somnolent, but she knew it would barely take more than her blowing on it to make it start to rise, all over again.

‘No you weren’t.’

‘All right. I wasn’t.’ His blue eyes snapped open and he rolled onto his side and laid his hand possessively on the small of her back. A swirl of desire seemed to rouse beneath his touch.

‘You weren’t sleeping, though, were you?’ she prompted.

‘Not really.’ His thumb moved over her skin. ‘But dozing a little, I think. We’re getting better on that score now,
aren’t we?’ He smiled at her, a little, tentative, strangely vulnerable smile.

‘Yes, I think we are. We’ll get there, lover, I know we will … One of these days … or nights. It’ll happen when we hardly realise it. We’ll both wake up in the morning like a perfectly normal couple who’ve slept the night together.’ She rolled onto her side, feeling a twinge or two from her punished bottom, but relaxing into the sensations, embracing them. Catching John’s hand as it slid from her flank, she kissed his fingers.

‘Not too normal,’ he said with a twinkling grin, his blue eyes fiery.