The Berkeley Method (6 page)

“Is it too much?” His hand returns to stroking now.

I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, baffled by the myriad of feelings running through me.

“Do you want me to spank you again?” he whispers.

I do, I really do. Can I admit it? It’s such a shameful thing to want.

“I won’t do it again until you ask me,” he says.

I lie silent for a moment, imprisoned by my own whirling feelings.

“Do you want me to do it again?” he asks. His tone is dangerous.

Bent over the desk, I feel the pressure of his hand on my back, forcing me to lie still. He allows his other hand to roam softly against the bare skin of my behind. It’s tantalising, teasing, but somehow not enough.

James leans down very close so his mouth is against my ear.

“Tell me you want me to do it again,” he whispers, “and I’ll give you three more before I fuck you.”

The thought of him inside of me is so insanely compelling that I can’t help myself.

“Yes,” I whisper, my face pressed against the desk.

“Yes what?”

“I want you to do it again.”

“Harder?”

“No, not harder. The same.” I screw my eyes shut. “Please. Do it again.”

His answer comes hard against my behind. His palm slams against me. My skin is tingling and my mind is racing with the sensation of it all. How can it be that I like this?

“I want you to remember this,” says James, “for putting yourself in danger today.”

The flat of his hand strikes hard again, for a third and final time.

I lay still, breathing heavily, absorbing the powerful sensations in my body.

Then I hear him undo his jeans, and he grabs my hips roughly with both hands, angling me towards him. There is a ripping sound as he pulls out a condom and rolls it onto himself.

“I’ve been wanting to spank you since I met you,” he murmurs, and then I feel him press his erection between my legs.

I tense, waiting for the next sensation, and then he thrusts into me from behind with a groan.

I feel my body pressed tight against the desk as the force of him slams into me. The unexpected roughness of it takes me by surprise. I thought we’d had fast and heavy sex before. Now I realise he was holding back.

I let out a strangled moan as he alternates between hard thrusting and deeper, more measured movements.

Then he slides his hands around to cup my breasts, gripping them hard as I let out another pleasure-wracked groan.

“The first part was for my pleasure, Isabella,” he growls, slamming forcefully into me, “and now this second part is for yours.”

He slows his pace and pulls my body slightly away from the desk. Then he slides his hand around the front of me and begins expertly working my clitoris. The sensation of his hand there is almost too much, and then he adjusts his angle, pushing deeper inside of me.

“Oh God, Isabella, I’m close,” he moans, and the words fire a final spurt of desire straight to my groin.

My knees weaken, and the molten charge of my orgasm wracks through my entire body, taking every inch of me in gasping, glorious pleasure.

I hear James gasp as he feels me shuddering around him.

“I cannot believe how good it feels to be inside you,” he moans, and then with a final thrust, I feel him exploding inside of me.

He rests forward on top of me, moving his hand to stroke my hair. Then he covers the side of my face with gentle kisses.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispers. “Having you bent over like this. I could hardly control myself.”

I give a little smile of acknowledgement as his lips move over my face, and then he slides out of me carefully and lifts me up and around to face him.

We’re stood, staring into each other’s eyes, panting in the aftermath of what we’ve just done. But there’s a sadness about James’s face now.

“What is it?” I whisper.

He smiles slightly.

“I have strong feelings for you, Isabella,” he says.

I feel my heart make a little flip of joy.

“And I can’t believe that someone as sweet as you is brave enough to try a relationship with me.”

A relationship?
I inwardly hug myself.

“I can’t keep away from you,” he says, “but I need to know that I’m not damaging you. I couldn’t bear to think I was taking you to somewhere dark.”

What is he asking from me?
I try to assess.

“Are you worried that you’re demeaning me?” I say, after a moment.

His face fills with pain, and he makes a tight little nod.

I consider this. Do I feel demeaned? Bent over his desk? Having him spank me as a punishment? I certainly should.

“I don’t feel like that,” I say slowly. “I don’t feel debased.”

“Then how do you feel?” his eyes are searching my face urgently. “How do I make you feel, Isabella?”

How does he make me feel? Like I’ve been asleep for a hundred years and I’ve just woken up
.

“Liberated,” I settle upon, “excited, adventurous, vulnerable.”

He gives a shy smile. “I make you feel all that?”

And so much more.

“Yes, you do. It’s not a bad feeling. At least I don’t think so.” I frown, remembering how bad I felt when he went away.

“I want you to understand that I would never wish to demean you by my actions,” he says. His voice is thick with sincerity.

This is a little puzzling. What does he want?

He senses my confusion.

“It isn’t about making you my subordinate,” he clarifies.

“Then what is it about?” I push, maximising this sudden surge of honesty.

“Owning you,” he says, his eyes taking on a bright intensity, “making you completely mine.”

His hand slides across the length of my body.

“Taking you in this way is about me having control over you. I want you to give total trust over to me.”

I frown. I’m not sure I like that.

“I don’t know if I could surrender control to you,” I admit. “I know you’re old-fashioned. But I’m not. I’m a modern girl.”

“Yes, you are,” he says with a little smile. “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

“But you do want me another way,” I press. “You want me to submit to you.”

James gives a little sigh. “I think there is a greater desire in you for submission than you realise. And perhaps you have a different idea of what is meant by giving yourself to me.”

He closes his eyes and opens them again.

“I want to give you the world, Isabella,” he says, gazing into my face. “You only have to say what you want, and I’ll give it.”

I think about this.

“I like what you do to me,” I admit. My eyes are searching his. “But I want you to let me in. To know more about you.”

To love you.

He pauses for a moment, and then his expression changes.

“That could be difficult,” he says.

“Will you agree to try at least?” I press.

“What is it you want?”

I try to put it into words.

“Romance,” I say finally, “tenderness.”

He gives a pained smile.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather a yacht. Or a diamond ring?” he asks.

I laugh.

“It would be easier, you know,” he admits.

“I know,” I say softly. “But that isn’t what I want. Your money isn’t important to me.”

“You want my heart?” He looks inexplicably pained by this idea.

I nod. “It’s more valuable than your money.”

“You might be wrong about that, Isabella.”

I stare into his cool green eyes.

“I’m not,” I say firmly. “I know I’m not.”

He sighs. “You do something to me which no one has ever done,” he says. “I don’t know if it’s enough to change me. But for you, Isabella, I will try. And please understand how special you must be to me to hear those words.”

I lean forward and kiss his mouth gently. “I do,” I say, “I do understand.”

“I think you might find things even more difficult on set,” he adds.

“Why is that?” I ask warily.

“For one thing, we can’t be open about our relationship,” he says. “Since I’m still technically married to Madison, it would be unprofessional.”

Madison. His wife. Ouch.

“And for another, I tend to become engrossed in my work.”

Oh
. I consider this. Perhaps I’ll be able to entice him away.

“You told me that you were making plans to officially separate from Madison,” I remind him.

“Yes,” he nods. “I am. But it can’t happen overnight. That would be devastating to Madison’s public image.”

“Ok,” I concede. “We’ll see how things go.”

James nods and kisses my mouth.

“Yes, we will,” he agrees. “But for now, I’m going to enjoy every moment of having you back.” He scoops me up in his arms and plants a lingering kiss on my
mouth. “I hope you’re ready for this, Isabella,” he says with a grin, “because you’re not going to be getting much sleep tonight.”

Chapter 8

I wake in the dawn light, knowing it’s still early. Although I fell asleep wrapped tight in James arms, he’s no longer in the bed.

Hmmm.
I feel as though there is still some battle to be won here. Will I ever wake up with this man?

A glance at the end of the bed reveals my clothing and underwear has been laundered and laid out fresh. Although by whom, I’m unsure. I assume James must have some laundry service which picks up and delivers in the early hours.

Rising quietly, I slip into the en-suite shower and let the warm water wash away the residue of last night.

I towel myself dry and then wrap myself in one of his designer sheets before padding softly out into the main apartment.

He’s working away on a laptop and looks up apologetically as I enter. “It’s still business hours in parts of America,” he explains.

Last night, he was wearing dark jeans, a T-shirt, and a suit jacket. Now he’s in slightly more casual wear – a T-shirt emblazoned with The Who and lighter designer jeans. His feet are clad in worn-in Converse. Combined with his ruffled brown hair, and he looks like a sexy musician.

Mmmmm.

I walk over to where he’s sitting and slide onto his lap. “I remember this desk,” I murmur, stroking the walnut wood which I was pressed against last night.

“Yes,” he says, moving an arm to hold me and reaching up to take my chin. “I plan on making you quite familiar with it.”

I break the gaze and slip off his lap. I’m uncertain, suddenly, as to what our relationship is about.

James follows my movements as I walk across the apartment.

“I ordered some croissants for breakfast,” he says. “They’re freshly baked this morning. Would you like one?”

“Sure.” My eyes rest on a package of pastries on the kitchen countertop. The paper bag is embossed with a beautiful gold motif. I suppress a little smile. An artisan bakery. How could I expect less?

I pull out a golden croissant and shred away a little portion to nibble on. Last night I was overcome with my feelings for this man. Now I feel in limbo. Uncertain.

As if sensing my mood, James strides across the apartment and puts his arms around me.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you asked me last night,” he says, “and I want you to know how much you mean to me.”

Ok.
I wonder where this is going.

“I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about myself to the extent you would like,” he says. “But I’ll try. And in the meantime, I can show you something more of what you’re looking for.”

Show me? What does he mean?

James gently cups my chin, and then his mouth is on mine in a deep, passionate kiss. And suddenly I’m falling, my body held tight, my soul expanding into his.

This is some kiss.

I feel my doubts loosen and fall away. I have enough love in my heart to overcome his issues. I know I do. I just need to find out more about him. This will take time.

He pulls away and looks deep into my eyes.

I let him hold me, feeling the tenderness he has for me in his arms. And then the barriers seem to fall again. His face changes, just slightly, as though he’s taken a step away from me.

“James?” I look up at him, trying to get him back. Gently, he unclasps his arms.

“So,” he says, “are you ready for me to drive you to the studio?”

I blink at him, momentarily confused.

“Now?” I ask.

Did he get too close? Why the sudden distance?

“Now,” he nods.

“Ok. Well, I need to pack,” I explain. “I’ll have to get clothes and a toothbrush, and…”