The Pleasures of Spring (19 page)

‘Sorry, she startled me. This is all new. Which pedal is the brake?’ she asked.

Andy stared at her with narrowed eyes. ‘Okay, we’re going to do this differently,’ he said. He took the reins out of her hands and tied them in a knot out of her reach. Then he took away her stirrups, leaving her sitting on top of the giant horse with nothing to hold on to.

Andy backed away, playing out the leading rope and picking up a whip from the middle of the arena. He flicked it at Minty who gave him an offended look but walked on.

‘Hey, what’s the idea?’ Roz called.

‘I’m going to control the horse. Your job is to stay upright and balanced. Learn to move with the horse. Put your hands out if you need to but don’t hold anything. Let your legs balance you.’

Minty walked around while Roz tried to get used to the motion, and she planned ways to torture Andy. Her spell as a Domme had taught her lots of interesting things to do that would reduce the average man to a pleading wimp. She’s make him rub Deep Heat on his balls. Nipple clamps
with weights on them. Freshly peeled ginger. A chastity lock. Oh yeah, now that would be real torture for Andy.

‘Good, much better.’ His voice recalled her surroundings. ‘Now we’re going to trot.’

He flicked the whip and Minty moved faster, into a jarring march that bounced Roz almost out of the saddle. She leaned forwards and grabbed the mane again.

‘Sit up,’ Andy said sternly. ‘Balance yourself. Slide your bum deep into the saddle, feel the movement.’

‘That’s all I can feel, you bastard,’ she muttered.

Andy laughed. ‘Now, while she’s trotting, I want you to recite the alphabet backwards.’

She risked taking her eyes off Minty’s ears long enough to glare at Andy. ‘Are you crazy?’

‘Just do it.’ He didn’t sound as if he would change his mind.

With a bad grace she began. ‘Z, Y, X, W.’ She paused. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded. She had to concentrate to remember what came next. ‘V, U, T, S, R.’ Another pause while she tried to recall the order of the letters. Andy flicked the whip gently and the horse kept trotting around. Eventually she got to ‘C, B, A’.

‘Well done,’ Andy said. ‘And do you notice how much more relaxed you are?’

Damn him, it was true. She had been so busy with the letters that she had forgotten to tense up against the movement of the horse.

‘This time we’re going to canter. And you’re going to have your eyes shut.’

He must be out of his mind. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me. Not going to happen.’

‘Yes, you are. Trust me, I won’t let anything happen to you. And I know you have courage.’

Her insides knotted, but she didn’t want to back down. Resolutely, she shut her eyes. ‘Go for it,’ she managed.

She heard the whip crack, and Minty moved faster, going from the now familiar trot to a rocking canter. Roz fought the urge to grab onto her and concentrated on staying upright.

‘Good girl,’ Andy said, and something inside her warmed. ‘But relax. You’re not going to your death.’

‘Easy for you to say,’ she muttered.

‘Now, keeping your eyes closed, tell me in what order her legs are moving.’

‘You have got to be kidding me,’ she snarled, but kept her eyes closed and paid attention to the movements she could feel beneath her. She had no idea how much time had passed before she called out, ‘Right back leg first, left back leg and right front leg together, left front leg.’

‘Well done, you clever girl. I’ve never known anyone who got it right first time.’ She preened a little. ‘Open your eyes.’

She was startled to see how fast she was moving. If she had known Minty was moving at this speed, she’d have freaked. Now it didn’t seem so bad.

‘Good girl, that was excellent,’ Andy said. ‘I think we’ll call it a day now. You deserve a reward.’

She was stunned, pleased and a little off balance, exactly how he liked his submissives. Except that Roz wasn’t his sub. But, god, the desire to get his hands on her ass was almost overwhelming.

It was her first time in the saddle, but she had the makings of a good rider. Roz had endured his commands, done everything he told her and displayed remarkable balance and a feel for the horse.

‘Well done,’ he said as he helped her down.

He let Minty into her stable, un-tacked her and got the grooming kit to clean her up. Roz wanted to help, so he showed her how to brush off the saddle marks. He picked up the mare’s feet one by one to clean them out, and showed Roz how to do it. She was tentative picking up Minty’s hooves, but handled the hoof-pick with assurance.

‘Good girl,’ he told her.

Her euphoric smile churned something inside him. She loved it, really loved it. A perverse imp in him decided to push her. He picked up a grape fork and handed her the long-handled tool. ‘Here you go.’

A puzzled look crossed her face. ‘What’s that for?’

‘Cleaning up after Minty.’ He nodded towards the piles of horse droppings in the stable. The four-pronged tool was perfect for mucking out.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust. ‘That’s taking the horsey stuff too far. Why can’t you do it?’

‘She’s your horse for now. It won’t take you long. I’ll see you back at the house when you’re done.’ Whistling, Andy headed for the door.

The clatter of the grape fork against the ground told him that she was less than pleased.

He coughed to disguise his laughter, but from the curses he could hear behind him, he knew Roz was near meltdown. Andy turned. ‘You really shouldn’t have done
that. I’ll get her settled. Have this place cleaned up when I get back.’

When he returned, the stubborn woman was standing where he had left her and the fork was lying at her feet. Oh, he loved the ones who resisted. He affected a stern voice. ‘Not done yet?’

Her response was unrepeatable.

‘We can deal with this in another way.’

Narrowed eyes glared at him and the set of her mouth was stubbornly defiant. ‘Bring it on, Irish.’

That was a challenge if he ever heard one.

‘Oh, I will.’ Before she could resist, he took her firmly by the wrist and led her from the arena. It was lunchtime. The lads were probably headed for the kitchen. The tack room should be empty.

There was something about the smell of leather that went straight to his cock. Had he always been like this? He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t taken pleasure in the earthy smell. Propelling her inside, he closed the door behind them.

In the dim light of the tack room, uncertainty flickered across her face and then her mouth firmed. ‘You’re not my boss. You don’t get to tell me what to do.’

‘No,’ he agreed, ‘but I am your teacher, and while we’re here, what I say goes.’

Roz snorted in disbelief. ‘So, spank me.’

‘I fully intend to.’ Andy didn’t bother to disguise his amusement as he towered over her. Whether she realized it or not, that was an invitation.

Outraged, she glared up at him, her blue eyes filled with anger and a hint of something else. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’

‘Oh, I would.’

Andy rested his hands on her waist and let them fall to her hips before cupping her ass and drawing her against him. He rubbed lightly against her and his cock swelled. ‘That’s a virgin ass if I ever saw one. Haven’t you ever been curious to know what it feels like?’

‘Not a bit. I’ve always believed it was better to give than to receive.’ She smiled sweetly at him.

Her sarky response was typically Roz, but the pink flush that coloured her cheeks made him wonder. He decided to push. Lowering his head Andy kissed a path along her jaw and bit gently on the lobe of her ear.

Her indrawn breath was delightful.

Squeezing the globes of her ass in his hands, he pulled her tightly against him. His cock had gone from half mast to raging flagpole. ‘Do you know what you do to me? And in particular what a sub with an ass like this does to me?’

‘Either you’ve got a really bulky belt buckle or it turns you on big time. What a pity that I’m not a sub.’

Andy turned his attention to her mouth, small teasing kisses that danced around the outside of her lips, but never giving her quite what she needed. ‘How do you know until you try?’

Roz had been playing one role or other all her life. She might have played at being a Domme in Paris, but he didn’t get the impression that her heart was in it. It was simply another disguise. Maybe he could help her find out. Reluctantly he took his hand from her jean-clad ass and brushed his thumb over one nipple. Beneath the cotton of her shirt her nipples peaked into two hard points.

Andy unbuttoned her shirt. She was wearing a pale
pink satin and lace creation that did incredible things to her breasts, pushing them upwards for his attention. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly as he kissed the valley between them.

‘Andy!’ The word came out in a throaty moan as she arched against him, seeking more of his searching hands and mouth. God, he was going to hell for this, but her ass was too tempting. ‘Soon, baby but first …’

He would have loved to have taken her over his knee, but the bruise on her ribs was still purple, though now with green around the edge. He was terrified of putting any pressure on it.

Andy led her to the back of the tack room where the saddles were stored.

‘Put your hands here.’ He patted the seat of one saddle. Standing behind her, he brushed her hair over one shoulder so that he could see her face.

‘Feet apart.’ He nudged his thigh between hers, widening her stance. Pressing his palm between her shoulder blades, he made her lean forwards.

‘How do you feel?’ he asked.

‘Weird, and strangely aroused,’ she admitted.

‘Go with it. I promise not to hurt you.’

Much, he added under his breath. In this position, he didn’t know whether he wanted to fuck her or spank her. Probably both.

‘You can stop me at any time, but I promise you won’t want to.’

‘Cocky bastard,’ she murmured.

His first blow landed on the middle of her right cheek and she jerked in surprise, but didn’t cry out. He rubbed
the spot gently before raising his hand again. He found his rhythm, alternating light spanks with soothing rubs. Her breath quickened and Andy increased the force of the blows, watching her face and body for signs that it was too much.

His cock ached for release. He had never been so hard in his life. Andy paused to kiss her, brushing away the damp tendrils of hair that clung to her face. ‘Six more. Can you take it?’

She turned her head and smiled at him. ‘Oh, you’ve started? I thought that was a massage after the riding.’

The brat. He’d make sure she felt the last six.

The sharp crack of his hand against her ass was loud in the darkened room. Her jagged breaths turned to gasps and she cried out at the final blow. Roz sagged against the saddle and Andy gathered her in his arms. Her eyes were bright, her expression slightly dazed. She had never been so beautiful.

How the hell did he do it? The delicious warmth from her ass interfered with her indignation that he had spanked her. What had come over her to allow it?

But she knew. It was the riding lesson, where she had put herself into his hands and had committed to obeying all his directions without question. He hadn’t let her down. She was no expert, but she knew that she had come further in one single lesson than most people did in several, all thanks to Andy.

Those instructions had triggered a submissive side of
her she hadn’t known existed, allowing her to put herself into his hands, trusting him to take care of her.

She grinned. And she had a bratty side too. Who knew? But the temptation to tease him had been irresistible. He had looked so outraged when she had asked him if he had started yet.

She couldn’t wait to tease him again.

He had been home less than a week. Andy didn’t know how his mother had mustered together a celebratory lunch for twenty so quickly. Poppy should come with a health warning. What sort of torture was she planning to inflict on him today? The crunch of tyres on gravel told him that the guests were already beginning to arrive.

He hurried along the corridor to the blue room and tapped on the door before entering. Roz was standing in front of the mirror and every stitch she possessed was strewn across the bed. She wore a dark grey silk bra that pushed her breasts up like an indecent offering. The tiny thong concealed far too little. Those things should be declared illegal.

She held up another dress against her before discarding it.

‘I have nothing to wear,’ she complained before reaching for another outfit.

‘That’s not what my credit card says.’

Roz shot him a dark look. ‘It’s okay for you. You know all of these people. When I go downstairs, every one of them is going to judge me.’

So that was what the panic was about. Andy crossed the room quickly and took the offending garment from her hands, tossing it over his shoulder. He turned her towards the mirror.

‘Those people are my friends and they are meeting the
new lady of Lough Darra. Of course they will judge you, and I’d be a liar if I told you otherwise.’

Roz closed her eyes. She was as taut as a tightly drawn bowstring and he suspected she was battling tears. Roz never cried.

‘Open your eyes and look at me.’

Reluctantly, she blinked and opened them, holding his gaze in the mirror. Andy cupped her breast, marvelling at how it fitted perfectly into his hand. He adored women, especially their ripe, fleshy softness. Give him a happy woman with curves any day, over a miserable one who spent her life on a diet.

He tweaked her tender nipple until it peaked. ‘Yes, they will judge you but I want you to remember that this belongs to me and that you are amazing.’

When she didn’t respond, he pinched hard, awaiting a response.

‘Bastard,’ Roz hissed, but passion was already stirring in those sapphire blue eyes.

Andy laughed. Her response wasn’t the one he wanted but if she was angry at him, she wouldn’t be anxious about meeting the others. ‘A lady shouldn’t use language like that and expect to get away with it.’

Still holding her breast, he pulled her against him while he stroked the soft skin of her abdomen.

Roz closed her eyes and leaned into him.

He slipped his fingers inside the scrap of silk. Christ, she was already wet. Her head fell back on his shoulder, her breath quickening as he stroked her clit lightly.

His cock roared to life at her soft moan. Andy rubbed against her, letting her know how much he wanted her.
The perfume of her sex filled his nostrils. He wanted to bury his face between her thighs, to devour her. But this wasn’t about him. This was supposed to be teaching Roz a lesson about approval.

She was magnificent. There wasn’t a man downstairs who wouldn’t want her the moment he saw her. Why did she doubt herself? Abandoning the tender nub, he plunged his index finger inside her.

‘Oh god.’ She arched against his searching hand, seeking more pressure.

Andy pushed a second finger into her, fucking her slowly, stopping and starting with no apparent rhythm so that she came close, but couldn’t come. Her inner muscles squeezed his fingers, needing something hard.

The urge to fuck her was almost overwhelming. His cock was rigid against his zipper, almost painful. Andy withdrew his fingers and her eyes flew open.

‘You can’t stop like …’

‘Oh, I can.’

To make a point, he plunged his fingers inside her again, using more force this time, giving her the pressure that she needed, bringing her right to the edge, before withdrawing them once more. Concentrating instead on her clit, he rubbed lightly until she was squirming mindlessly against him.

He stopped again.

She was still fighting him. He ignored the muttered expletives. ‘Open your eyes and look at me.’

He eased down the straps of her bra, exposing her breasts, before plumping them in his hands. ‘While we are together, these belong to me.’

Cruising along the curve of her waist, he stroked his way down her body. The scrap of grey silk was darkened with dampness. He slipped one hand between her thighs. ‘And this belongs to me.’

This time, her gaze was defiant but she remained silent. Changing tactics, he brushed her hair over one shoulder and nibbled a path along her shoulder and neck. Her eyelashes fluttered closed and opened again. Her breasts quivered as her breathing quickened.

‘Stop worrying about what other people think of you. When you go downstairs there isn’t a man that won’t want you or a woman that won’t be jealous of you.’

‘Andy, I –’

‘Hush, baby. No matter how you see yourself, you’ll be wonderful.’

Her nod was barely perceptible. Not a ringing endorsement or an enthusiastic agreement, but then nothing with Roz would ever come easily.

Blood raced in his veins and his cock throbbed urgently, seeking release. He couldn’t go downstairs in this state and neither could she. Andy released her gently and fetched the antique footstool from the window alcove. It was exactly the right height for what he had in mind. The lesson wasn’t over yet.

He placed the footstool in front of the mirror, watching with amusement as realization dawned in her eyes. Roz wanted him. Her body craved him. He had brought her to the cusp, time and time again until she was quivering, but would she submit to him like this?

‘Take them off. I want you naked for this.’

Lust and defiance fought for the upper hand. If looks
could kill, he would have been a dead man. Her chin shot up and she reached for the clasp on her bra and tossed it onto the bed. She shimmied out of the damp thong and his breath caught in his throat. No matter how many times he saw her naked, it always filled him with wonder. How could she think that she was anything but beautiful?

A soft dusting of red covered her mons and the pale creamy skin of her thighs made him want to lick every inch of them. His balls ached. He couldn’t wait until he was undressed. He grabbed a condom and fumbled with his leather belt. He wished they had more time to play, but that would have to wait until later.

‘Good girl,’ he said as she bent over the footstool.

He wanted to lick every inch of her perfect back, every bone of her spine and the small beauty mark above her rounded ass. He nudged her thighs apart and held his cock poised at her entrance. Dragging his eyes away from her he looked in the mirror at the vision before him.

Him, fully clothed. Roz, gloriously naked, awaiting his pleasure. It was the perfect portrait of submission, except that he was the one who was enslaved. He pressed his finger inside her, pleased when she moaned loudly and squirmed beneath him. Slowly, he inched inside her tight, wet sheath. His balls tightened, threatening to explode like a horny teenager on his first outing. This hard, aching, never-ending wanting of her was more than sex. Andy withdrew almost to the tip and plunged in again, harder this time.

‘Oh please, Andy. Yes. Like that.’

There was no time for finesse. This would be a short, hard ride. Grasping a handful of her hair, he pulled her
head back, forcing her to look at their reflections. He thrust again and again, setting a hard, relentless rhythm that had them both gasping.

The primal in him was claiming his woman. Fucking her. Owning her. The urge to mark Roz was savage in its intensity. He wanted to bite her and the thought both horrified and excited him. Slowing his thrusts, he leaned over her, pinning her against the striped damask.

He licked at the tender spot where her neck joined her shoulder and bit.

‘Harder,’ she gasped, writhing against him. Roz was mindless, hovering, about to fall.

He bit down, sucking at her flesh, licking and swirling his tongue. When he pulled away, the mark was livid against her skin. His mark on his woman. He straightened, and slammed into her once more, sending her over.

She shuddered beneath him, screaming into the padding of the footstool. As he continued to thrust, her tight sheath convulsed around him. It was too much, he couldn’t hold back any longer. He roared as his own release overtook him.

Andy clung to her until the thundering of his heart slowed and his breathing returned to something that resembled normal. He raised his head. He was too strong, too big and too heavy for her. ‘Did I hurt you? he asked anxiously.

Her small, self-satisfied sigh reassured him and he relaxed, closing his eyes, savouring the musky scent of her sweat and the feel of her passion-damp skin. What he had experienced with her was more than the sum of all his previous sexual encounters. Roz was a siren. She had lured
him in, fed his fantasies and now he was as helpless as she was.

Andy ignored the Medusa-like gaze his mother fixed him with when they arrived late for pre-lunch drinks. But her expression softened when they were suddenly surrounded by friends and relatives, all anxious to meet the new lady of the house.

Roz bore the attention well, although Andy knew from the tension in her shoulders that she wasn’t comfortable or enjoying it. To a rapt audience she re-told the story of their meeting at the Eiffel Tower – although her version was a sanitized version of what had really happened. Worse still was her story of how he had pursued her for almost a year before she agreed to date him. That was stretching it a bit, but he let her have her little victory. He shot her a look which promised retribution later.

Roz batted her eyelashes at him before alluding to his reputation with the ladies and everybody laughed. She had them in the palm of her hand.

‘You’re well caught now, laddie,’ his elderly uncle proclaimed.

Even his father smiled at that one. Dougal believed that he was finally getting the stay-at-home son that he wanted. Andy didn’t know how he was going to break it to him that they would be leaving within a week.

The gong in the hall sounded the call to lunch. As they moved down the hallway, the doorbell rang. Maggie opened it and a tanned brunette greeted her with a beaming smile.
Spotting Andy, she launched herself at him, planting a wet kiss on his mouth.

Behind them, someone coughed and she pulled away and laughed. Ariana McMahon hadn’t changed a bit in the two years since he had last seen her.

‘Sorry, but I’m so excited to see you. My answering machine garbled some of my messages. When were you going to tell me you were home?’

Fuck. How the hell was he going to get out of this mess?

Gently but firmly, he disentangled himself from Ariana’s grasp. ‘You’re just in time for lunch.’

Ever the gracious hostess, Poppy stepped forwards and took Ariana’s arm and led her towards the dining room. ‘I’ll have Maggie set another place.’

Although his mother had seated them side by side, Roz might as well have been a million miles away. She was poised, even gracious when someone asked her a question, but icily polite to him. Was she upset about Ariana kissing him? Roz knew their engagement was a fake. Not that there was anything serious between Ariana and him, but he couldn’t ignore the waves of hostility aimed at him.

Across the table Ariana was staring at him, shocked. His mother had obviously told her the news and she wasn’t happy about it. That was another mess he would have to clean up.

They had been lovers a long time ago, but both spent so much time abroad that their relationship was impossible to sustain. They had settled into a pattern of hooking up when they were home for some pleasant, no-strings
fun. Or at least that’s what it had been to him. But looking at her face now, he realized that he had seriously miscalculated.

After the main course was cleared away, Maggie carried in a towering croquembouche decorated with spun sugar. She hadn’t forgotten that profiteroles were his favourite dessert, and this creation was spectacular.

Dougal poured champagne and tapped his glass, demanding attention.

‘My dear friends, the past few years have been quite eventful for Poppy and me. We have known great sadness after the loss of our son, Robert, who was a driving force in modernizing the Lough Darra stables.