The Pleasures of Winter (29 page)

Abbie fastened her seat belt and stared out the window at the Los Angeles skyline. A small flutter of excitement danced low in her abdomen. She would soon be in the same city as Jack. Tonight they would be together again.

Jack was going to be mad at her. She hadn’t had time to call him after the bathroom and Betsy had given her an odd look when she saw her flushed face. After that, she had raced to Kit’s loft to collect her stuff and then hurried back to her apartment to pack. She had barely made the flight.

Stowed in the overhead compartment were her laptop and her precious notes about the Honduran story. Despite her best efforts, she hadn’t been able to contact Tom Breslin. The only information she could get was that he was somewhere in Europe.

The flight landed on time, and soon Abbie had collected her bag and was in a cab to the hotel.

She watched the city avidly as the cab brought her through the streets, enjoying the warmer air and the glimpses of ocean.

Her hotel room was basic. The
New York Independent
didn’t believe in spoiling its staff. Abbie unpacked quickly and rang the local office to let her editor know that she had arrived. She hesitated before calling Jack. ‘Oh, don’t be such a coward, Marshall. What is the worst thing he can do to you?’ She pressed the call button.

Jack answered almost straight away. ‘Where are you?’

Excitement hummed when she heard him. No ‘hello,
Abbie’, or ‘I missed you’. Just that hint of menace that made her heart flip.

‘I’ve arrived and I’m at the Canterbury. It’s on –’

‘I know where it is. You’re not staying there.’

‘But I –’

‘No buts, and don’t bother to unpack. I’ll send a car. You’ll be staying at my house.’

Staying with him, sleeping with him in his bed? What would they say at the office? She was supposed to be working on a story. ‘Jack, I –’

‘Do you have a problem with that, Abbie?’

‘No, Sir.’ God, she couldn’t believe that she had just said that – called him Sir again.

‘Good girl. Now, I want you to change into a skirt and heels and wear a pretty top. No bra or panties. Be in the lobby in twenty minutes. And one more thing. You disobeyed me and there will be consequences.’ With that he hung up.

Abbie sat down heavily on the bed. She was really going to do this. Everything they had done up to now felt like a game. The phone calls, the cybersex. While they were living on opposite sides of the country, there was safety in geography. Now that she was in his territory, there would be no safety net.

For the first time since she met him, Abbie felt sick with nerves. Jack had a dark side. She had always known that, but what if she didn’t enjoy it? What if she disappointed him?

She threw her bag on the bed and removed her clothes from the closet. She had only one skirt, a light silk knee-length one that she had brought to wear on a date with Jack. The top to go with it was strappy and probably too
fancy for daytime. It would be obvious to anyone who looked at her that she was wearing nothing underneath it.

She picked up her favourite linen pants and then dropped them into the bag. She wasn’t going to disobey another order. Jack would only find a suitably creative way to punish her.

Seventeen minutes later she was waiting in the lobby. The receptionist had given her an odd look when she checked out within an hour of checking in. She would probably bill the company for the room anyway. The air conditioning in the lobby had turned her nipples to peaks and Abbie adjusted her wrap, trying to cover them.

A dark-haired man in a chauffeur’s uniform entered the lobby and scanned the guests before his eyes fell on her. ‘Ms Marshall?’

‘Yes, that’s me.’

He bent down and picked up her bag. ‘My name is Ben, Ms Marshall. Mr Winter sent me to fetch you. The car is just outside.’

Abbie didn’t know why she felt disappointed. It wasn’t as if Jack had said that he was coming, but she would have loved for him to be here. She followed Ben across the lobby and out into the sunshine.

Jack had said that he would send a car. She hadn’t expected a limo. The car was pure Jack, long and sleek with dark tinted windows that concealed the occupants from prying eyes. Ben put her bag into the trunk and opened the rear door.

‘Hello, Abbie.’

So much for playing it cool. She almost stumbled in her haste to climb into the back and touch him. Jack’s beauty
never failed to astonish her, but the dark intent in his eyes made her shiver. The door closed behind her and the chauffeur climbed into the front seat. Without being told, he closed off the partition, leaving them cocooned and alone.

Jack dragged her across his lap. She sucked in her breath as she found herself dazzled by his strength and the familiar scent of him. She had missed him so much.

There were pictures of Jack everywhere. His face stared at her from every movie theatre, but none of them conveyed the magnetism of his physical presence. Just being near him again made her slightly breathless. Having him train that astonishing intensity on her made her quiver.

Jack pushed her back just enough to create a small gap between them, and stared at her face intently. ‘You’ve given me more sleepless nights in the past week than I had the whole time we were in Honduras, and you’re going to pay for it.’

He lowered his mouth and took hers in a slow kiss. The potency of his embrace hit her like a glass of champagne. She squirmed in his arms, trying to touch him, to get closer so she could feel the warmth of his skin beneath the crisp cotton of his shirt.

Jack broke the kiss and buried his face in her neck. ‘I missed the smell of you.’

The echo of her own thoughts made her smile. ‘Anything else?’ Abbie asked, giddy with the delight of being back in his arms.

‘Oh, I can think of a couple of things.’ Slowly, with anticipation, Jack pushed the thin straps of her top off her shoulders and tugged it down to expose her breasts.

Abbie was torn between her desire to have his hands
on her naked breasts and the feeling of being watched. She glanced at the partition that separated them from the driver. ‘But won’t he hear us?’

‘Probably. So if you’re shy, you’d better be quiet.’ Jack bent his head to take one plump nipple between his lips.

The heat of his mouth and the flick of his tongue against her tender peak made her cry out.

Jack lifted his head. Amusement danced in his eyes. ‘Not so shy then, Ms Marshall?’

He traced a path along her calf with the tips of his fingers, causing her toes to curl. When Abbie clamped her knees shut, he gave her a sharp tap on her thigh. ‘Who does this body belong to?’

Abbie couldn’t answer him. His hands stroked her lightly from calf to knee and his mouth latched on to her nipple again, giving her delicious slow swirls with his tongue, followed by sharp nips that bordered on painful. Her panting breath was louder than the quiet hum of the finely tuned engine.

Jack slid his hand under her skirt, stroking her inner thigh. ‘Are you wet for me?’

She was helpless now. A low moan was all she could manage. Abbie parted her thighs, whimpering when one long finger entered her in a slow pumping stroke.

‘Please, Jack.’ She barely knew what she was begging for. Everything focused on one tiny, bright point of pleasure. He captured her mouth again in a rough, possessive kiss. Each stroke of his tongue pushed her need higher. She wanted him on top of her, inside her, fucking her hard until she was senseless.

The honk of a car horn startled her. She was sprawled
across Jack’s lap in the back seat of a limo, legs spread, breasts bared and he was still fully clothed. Jack took her hand and pressed it against his erection. His eyes were teasing. ‘I promised myself that I’d wait until I got you home first. Look what you’ve done to me. I’m not sure if I’ll make it.’

He smoothed her skirt down and fixed the straps of her top in place. ‘There, almost presentable, apart from the expression on your face that says what you’ve been up to.’

‘It does not.’ Abbie sat up and reached for her purse. The compact mirror told her that Jack was telling the truth. Her mouth was red, and she had bed hair. ‘Oh my god, it does.’

She ran her fingers through her hair and reapplied her lipstick while Jack grinned at her. ‘Abbie, I’m joking. There’s going to be no one at the house except you and me.’

Her fingers shook as she replaced the compact in her purse. Her and Jack Winter, alone for the weekend. Her brain was in meltdown.

Electronic gates swung open and they swept up the drive to Jack’s home. Abbie sat up. She was curious to see where he lived. It was small by Hollywood mansion standards. A modern house with clean lines; it probably had a pool around the back. The one thing that struck her was that the grounds were very extensive for the size of the house – large enough to protect him from the long lenses of the paparazzi. Jack valued his privacy. ‘Have you lived here long?’

Jack shrugged. ‘I bought it five years ago, but I’ve probably spent less than a year in the place. I’ve been working a lot.’

‘So I noticed.’

She suddenly felt shy with him. They were lovers, cyber friends, but she barely knew the first thing about him. Where he grew up. What he liked to do or to eat. Jack Winter was still a mystery to her. When they talked, it was always about her and about what they were doing.

Jack drew her closer. ‘You’re thinking again. I can tell. What is it this time?’

She had promised him honesty.

‘I know so little about you.’

A shadow crossed his face, then he smiled. ‘I plan on changing that this weekend.’

The car stopped outside the front door and Jack helped her out, all old-fashioned courtesy, just as if he hadn’t had his hands under her skirt moments before. Jack picked up her bag, leaving Ben to put the car away. ‘Looks like it’s you and me, Abbie. Let’s go inside and I’ll show you around. Starting upstairs.’

When Abbie hesitated, Jack winked at her. ‘It’s just a house tour. I promise to be good.’

She didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved.

The house was perfect. Each room was beautifully decorated, as if she had stepped into the pages of an interiors magazine. But it was soulless. There were no personal touches, until she came to the master suite. A collection of photographs decorated one wall. ‘Your family?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’ But he didn’t elaborate, and ushered her through a corridor with walk-in closets on either side and into a giant bathroom.

‘Wow,’ she said. ‘The tub looks as if it could fit six.’

‘Eight, at a push.’

When he saw her disapproving expression he burst out laughing. ‘That’s what the estate agent said, but I haven’t tried it.’

Downstairs, she followed him through a state-of-the-art kitchen, study room, gym and media room.

‘And what’s this one?’ she asked. She would never be able to find her way around the place. Jack had a room for everything.

‘It’s the playroom. Want a tour?’ His voice was playful, but she could see a hint of tension in his shoulders.

Abbie swallowed. Did she want a tour? A mixture of excitement and dread pulsated through her. She wanted to know him, to know the real Jack. She stood on tiptoe and brushed her mouth against his. ‘Lead the way.’

The room was high and wide, with lots of recessed lighting. There was an electric winch in the ceiling, a couple of oddly shaped chairs, an A-frame with tie points, a St Andrew’s cross, two padded benches and a few other things she didn’t recognize. Just like at the gym, she thought, where they had terrifying-looking machines that tone your biceps or hamstrings. But she couldn’t quite convince herself that she was comfortable with what she saw.

One thing she did recognize was the display of whips on the wall. There was a selection of paddles and straps and crops, which ranged in size from one to four feet long. Her heart flipped. Oh dear god, surely he wouldn’t use one of those on her? At the end of the room a gigantic four-poster bed took up almost one entire wall. The wooden posts were marked and scratched. She wondered how many women had been restrained there.

‘God, I can read you like a book. The answer is none, so far – the bed is a recent acquisition. It came from the house of a notorious Madam somewhere down south. Her family took to religion and shut up the house. Everything was sold.’

He stroked the wooden posts. ‘I’ve just had it restored, but I wanted the marks left on it as a reminder that where there is pleasure, there is also pain. Speaking of which, I believe you’re due a punishment.’

Her tongue felt strange, as if it had forgotten how to form words. ‘A punishment?’

Jack crossed the room and considered the selection of whips. He picked up a long crop with a small loop on the end and caressed the leather in his hand. ‘A punishment for endangering your personal safety with the Honduran story and a further punishment for disobeying me earlier when you didn’t call me back. And it’s going to hurt, Abbie. Just like your disobedience hurt me.’

Abbie took two steps back. He couldn’t be serious. ‘You’re going to whip me with that?’

‘No. Not this time, Abbie. We’ll start with something else.’

Despite the small swell of fear, she felt the first stirrings of excitement. Nothing that they had done so far had made her come as hard as she had done when Jack had spanked her.

‘I can see by the size of your pupils that I have your interest. Don’t worry, we’ll start with something easy. Now, why don’t you strip?’

Keeping her eyes focused on his face, Abbie pulled off the strappy top. Her breasts sprang free and her nipples pebbled into tight peaks.

‘Good girl. Now, step out of the skirt. I want to see you naked.’

Abbie unzipped the skirt and let the silk drop to the floor. She forced herself to stand still while Jack stared at her. His hot, relentless gaze made her tremble.

‘Nervous?’ he asked.

Abbie licked her lips. They had gone dry. ‘You know that I am. I don’t know what you’re going to do to me.’ Her voice shook, and she had to clear her throat to get the words out. What had she let herself in for?

‘Oh, I think you do know and you want this, almost as much as I do.’