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‘Me too. You think this weekend thing will work? It drives me crazy thinking of you out there in the city without me. All week.’
He steps away, his hands still gripping my shoulders, his thumbs moving gently on my skin. ‘And now look.’ He shakes his head slowly, his mouth twitching faintly at the corners. ‘See what you get up to when I’m not around? You just can’t be trusted, can you?’
I grin, alarm and lust blending into a flare of excitement. ‘Trusted? To do what?’
He’s pulling me towards the bed now, his grip suddenly painful, his fingers closed on my wrist like a vice. ‘Not to dress like a tramp. Slutty schoolgirl? Without my express permission? Disgraceful.’
He sits down suddenly, his grip still like iron, and pushes me away to arm’s length, still holding me fast. ‘You’re going to undo the top button of your pedal-pushers and the first inch or so of your zip and then you’re going to put that eager, wicked little hand right in there and you’re going to feel yourself. Now.’
In a panic I scrabble with my left hand and edge my zip down a little way, keeping my eyes on his as I force my fingers down into the skin-tight split cutting into my groin where these damn pedal-pushers have been causing me grief all day as they pressed hard on my private places, making me ache every time my thoughts strayed anywhere near Darnley.
He watches in silence, his eyes locked on mine, waiting for the tell-tale flicker in my face that tells him his command is being rigorously obeyed.
‘Keep feeling. I want to see that wicked little fingertip working that greedy, needy clit. And if you dare to come –’ his voice lowers to a predatory growl ‘– the spanking you’re about to get will become even longer and a lot harder.’
‘Like something else I could mention?’ I arch my neck as he lowers my zip a fraction further, his fingers lingering on my navel as he does it, skimming the edge of my slim, straining wrist where my hand is wedged into my crotch and my gently working finger is already edging me ever closer to my doom.
All at once his fingers skim my wrist and clamp around my slim bones, his grip so fierce I look down at him in alarm.
‘Don’t stop.’ He sounds husky, and now I see his eyes are fixed on my wristbone and the places where it disappears easily into his circling, vice-like thumb-to-finger circlet.
What now? What tiny facet of my flexing, delicate wrist has caught his attention? It’s like he’s transfixed, his chest barely moving. Has he forgotten to breathe?
I ruffle his hair with one hand and stoop to kiss it, my lips barely touching its mass of springy, fresh-washed chestnut, gilt-tipped now in the low sunlight slanting in from the dying sunset that bathes the vista outside his vast windows in a wash of gold.
‘Darnley?’
He looks up slowly, his eyes dark with purpose and the prospect of hidden, complex pleasures. ‘Nearly there?’
I shudder as his sudden question sparks a violent jolt of arousal from my swollen, fiery bud, thudding with building excitement as my finger obediently torments it towards climax.
‘Good,’ he says, softly. ‘Now take your hand away and get over my knee, you naughty girl. Dressing like a tramp and feeling yourself? You think that kind of behaviour goes unpunished for long round here?’
I stare at him as flames flicker through me, well aware that in seconds he’s going to find I’m shamefully aroused. I may even show.
His eyes flash. ‘Well?’
Startled, I forget my moistening shame for a second and jerk back into play. ‘Yes, sir,’ I jabber. ‘Er, no, sir.’
He arches an eyebrow, his query cynical. ‘Well? Which? It goes unpunished or not?’
My breathing’s faster now, my cheeks filling with colour as my excitement builds. ‘It goes unpunished. I mean it goes punished. Dammit, Darnley, just do it already.’
I collapse over his knee, laughing now, but confused. Everywhere down inside my pedal-pushers glows in a lake of flame as my tormented bud presses into the tight fabric. I curve low, the lacy line of my thong an extra torment and painfully tight as I bend over. At the same moment he forces my thighs apart and chuckles softly as he discovers my shame.
‘And what’s this? You’re close? And we’ve barely started? Wicked girl. This earns extra strokes. Open your legs. Keep them nice and straight. Put your hands behind your back and keep them there. I’ll make a couple of tiny adjustments to improve the view.’
I strain to hold position while he wrenches my top down below my hanging breasts, scooping their weight out of my fancy bra-cups so they bulge out over the ridge of fabric. In the mirror opposite I look like a porno ad. He looks – as always – like some classical god.
So unfair.
I watch him, entranced, as he gazes down at me, his perfect profile motionless, rapt now as he peels my straining pedal-pushers down a little way over my hips to the place just below the tops of my thighs where they start to split apart. He pauses a moment, dips his head and drops a kiss on both sides of my now exposed and, I assume, deliciously quivering rump, thrust high up under his face in two pink, shivering mounds.
Breathless, I watch him in the mirror as he does it. Is he always this reverent when he looks at me down here? He’s very still, like he’s found some precious treasure and wants to savour the moment of discovery. It’s a kind of worship.
It brings tears to my eyes. For a few precious seconds I feel his hot breath on my skin and the whisper-soft touch of his lips on first one and then the other cheek of my backside.
The next moment he brings even more tears to my eyes as his hand rises high in the air and comes down hard. I yell in shock and surprise, even though I knew perfectly well what to expect. It’s always a shock, that first shattering blow. I screw my eyes tight, not wanting to look any more.
He leans down close to my ear, his breath hot again.
‘Quiet. Or I’ll gag you.’
‘I’ll try, sir.’ I grit my teeth. All at once this whole spanking thing gets even hotter as blows fall. I clench my teeth to stop crying out, twisting my fingers into a knot at my back to avoid fending him off. And sure enough, just like always, something about this sends flames flaring through me, every jolt of my mound on his hard, muscular leg a bolt of electricity straight to my thudding centre.
When he pauses to fondle me his touch ripens the dark burn of his punishing blows with a wave of tenderness so arousing I feel giddy with desire. I’ve already fingered myself to frenzy. Now he’s soothing me to another as my secret places burn and scorch, pooling with need, flexing with hunger, endlessly denied the bliss of release.
At last he pushes me off his knee, his breathing ragged. He takes firm hold of my pigtails and pulls me to him with a dark, meaningful grin, scoops both pigtails into one hand and frees himself with the other. His erection springs before me, hot, hard and bulging. Now it’s my turn to worship as he guides my head, pulling my hair painfully tight as he twists my pigtails round his fist and torments my breasts with the other, a painful tweak on my nipple making me open my mouth.
His eyes dance. ‘Take it in your mouth. And keep your eyes on my face. Get it nice and wet.’
I lunge forward, letting his grip on my hair signal how far, and start to lick eagerly. I push forward along his shaft a little way, then draw back at his tug.
‘Now you can finger yourself till you come. But keep your eyes on mine. I want to watch.’
This is the hardest part. I’m shy under his amused, steady gaze. My climax erupts almost at once as my teasing finger lands on my hot, throbbing little place but the rush of pleasure that follows lowers my eyelids in rapture and jolts through my mouth in a spasm of pleasure. It’s an effort not to graze him with my teeth. He pushes in a little further, filling my mouth to stifle my moans. As my orgasm ripples away he grins, pulls away from my lips and rises to his feet. He hauls me upright, his fist still knotted in my pigtails. I wince, tears of pain and pleasure smarting now.
‘You’re still a bad girl. Bend over.’
He pushes me down onto the bed and I clutch the cover as he forces my legs up to the edge of the mattress and separates my legs with his knee. ‘A hundred, I think you said. You’ve already had thirty or so. So we’ll make it a round –’ he delivers a sudden hard slap to one side of my glowing backside ‘– forty.’
He slaps again and this time follows through with a few more while I gnaw at the cover and lose count as my excitement builds again.
‘So we’ll have sixty left for later. But for now, we’ll finish with this.’
I barely hear the rip of foil or his low snarl of satisfaction as he finally plunges inside. All I hear is the roar of the blood pounding in my ears, the whimper of pleasure from my parted lips and the grunt of content that growls from his as he thrusts again and again, filling me up, ramming into me with the heat of a furnace and the power of a lion.
My belly takes over, hauling him in. All the muscles that craved his entry are now blissfully at work while my head thuds into the mattress and his tight grip on my hair fixes me in place. And when he stills and starts to pump, his warm gush glows in my belly like sunrise.
We lie together on the bed, our lips saying ‘Hi’ with tiny kisses but our eyes doing all the talking. His are fond, fading to thoughtful. Mine are … how do I know? Foolish? Adoring? Still smarting from my spanking and a-glitter with tears?
Or maybe he’s thinking about something else …
‘So, tell me about your visitor.’ I’ve no idea why I say this. Maybe it seems a quiet, neutral time to talk family.
Instantly his expression veils. ‘I was hoping you’d tell me about her.’
I smile at him, bleary with orgasm. ‘Ask me? What could I possibly know about her?’
He’s unnaturally still, his gaze like steel. ‘That’s what I wondered. Since the stalker thing started she’s been using a special phone. It has a security device to block outside calls. Today we had to upgrade her security to twenty-four-seven personal protection because she made an unmonitored call. It gave away her location to anybody who might be listening in. Now it’s possible her stalker knows precisely where she is.’
This is far too technical for me. I’m only half listening as I run a finger along his perfect jawline and touch his finely sculpted lower lip. I grin as he catches my finger in his teeth. ‘So? What’s that got to do with me?’
He releases my finger, his gaze steady. ‘The call came from your phone.’
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_ebf90cbd-2f52-5fdb-a788-2e92c6ae8a54)
I stare up at him, numb with shock. It must show in my face because he watches me closely for a moment and then kisses first one nipple then the other and looks up with a smile. ‘So? Any ideas?’
My mouth’s gone dry. ‘Anybody could have used my phone but nobody would. The students all have their own, far newer than mine. Anyway, I trust them.’
I think fast. Like all the staff I leave my valuables in my locker. But today …? ‘I left it on a chair at the back of the hall to signal the rehearsal segments for Eldon’s filming. I had trouble slipping it in and out of my pocket because …’ I tail off.
He’s watching me steadily. ‘Go on. Because what?’
I swallow. ‘Because my pedal-pushers were so tight …’ I falter again at the glimmer of heat in his eyes. His slow smile and a twitch from his nether regions warn me today’s rash choice of costume may still have a sting in its tail.
‘You don’t say?’ His velvet tone hints at scary possibilities. ‘We’ll explore this later. For now I’m guessing you need a shower. My treat.’
My shower is carefully stage-managed and deeply disturbing. He has a new toy – a battery-operated cone with suction pads that he’s fixed to the tiles.
When he tells me what it’s for and what it does I gaze at him open-mouthed. ‘You’re not serious?’
He’s serious all right – seriously laughing. The glee in his eyes melts my soul. His outrageous suggestion is irresistible.
He makes me lean against it, forcing me onto it so my most private and personal place is splayed open and then I must control my squeals as he navigates the buttons and the speeds, making me shudder with arousal in all the right places while the thing vibrates in all the wrong ones.
At the same time he hoses me off with the spray and, as I’m bent almost double to accommodate the thing, I’m encouraged to pay detailed attention to his glistening manhood. This is so exciting that shower time takes a while. We finish breathless with laughter, me tingling and stretched, both of us far wetter than necessary.
Towelling me off takes a while too as he fingers my newly loosened opening, grinning like it’s a perfectly normal place to loosen. ‘One day we might have some fun in here. We’ll see.’
The cone was way more fun than I like to admit; luckily the spray sluiced off most of my tell-tale excitement. I can only hope he’s teasing. Finally he drops a kiss on my shoulder and with it another bombshell.
‘Now put on something pretty. We’ll have a sexy night out.’
I fling my arms around his neck. ‘Must we? What happened to our sexy night in? I was looking forward to it.’
He smiles slowly, his expression dark. ‘Me too. You can’t believe how much. But I feel like showing you off on a dance floor. Plus it’s my cook’s night off. Anyway, you deserve it. Tomorrow we’re invited to a civic reception to welcome the South American delegation to Boston.’
I laugh and nuzzle his neck. ‘What, this is your revenge on me for causing you all this hassle in the first place?’
His face grows stern. ‘Nope. This is both a family and a professional duty.’ He kisses me gently, his look hooded. ‘My revenge on you comes later.’
We agree that first I have to call in at Billy’s tiny apartment to pick up some things for the next two days, since I arrived earlier than planned at his residence and was unaware we’d spend most of it black-tie. My trip across town is swift. I dive into the apartment and snatch up my bag, ready-packed for a wicked weekend but lacking any significant evening wear. I grab my cocktail dress and my newest long gown, drape both over my arm and make for the door. As I glance out of the window I pause a moment.
There’s a woman standing across the street.
People wait across streets from places all the time. Nothing special about that.
I must be getting jumpy. Darnley’s obsession with security rarely gets to me but the thought that our weekend could be derailed this easily makes me nervous. Also, something about this woman is oddly familiar. I’ve seen her outside the Academy. And more than once, now I come to think of it. She seems to be staring right at my window. A chill runs through me.
I slam the door impatiently and head for the stairs. I’m getting as paranoid as Darnley. Then I run back and double-check the lock, race back down to Bullen and try to forget about it.
Getting ready takes a while because Darley insists on supervising every stage of my dressing and make-up, leaning casually on the dresser in my room and tweaking my nipples to hard pebbles to show under the modest neckline of my semi-respectable, tight-fitting cocktail dress and then scooping it down a little to spoil the effect, modesty-wise, so it ends up showing far more of me than I usually allow.
I lift my chin, hoping to look unconcerned, until he runs a finger along my lowered neckline and grins, ruining that effect too.
At last we climb into the car. Tonight the security detail comes with us. Two men sit silently in front, two in another car behind. I gather we’re on the lookout for Cola. We start out sleek and high-end and work slowly down through the nightspots. But when we finally reach a nightspot popular with the Harvard crowd Darnley squeezes my arm. ‘Hey. Look over there. In the middle of the dance floor.’
It’s Cola, dancing with abandon. All at once she spots us and bids a hasty farewell to her partner, who disappears into the crowd. She hurries over to greet us, but now I see Darnley tap a message into his phone. As she takes us both by the arm and leads us over to the bar, she chatters eagerly while we order cocktails, and happily settles onto a barstool, like she always hangs around in bars on her own. Darnley remains tight-lipped.
Soon she sidles up to me. ‘Powder room?’
We go together, arm-in-arm.
‘Having fun?’ I smile at her, puzzled. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright. She’s a world away from the sullen child I met earlier.
I search for something to say. Babysitting spoilt rich kids is no way to use up our precious weekends. ‘I hope you enjoyed the play. You’re welcome to sit in any time.’
She puts her head on one side. ‘Thank you. It’s such a sad story.’ All of a sudden her lip trembles. ‘And please, don’t tell him about me next time.’ Her lovely eyes fill with tears.
She looks unbearably sad and now I sense real pain. Poor kid, but it’s a relief there’s something real below her brittle spoilt-brat surface. I look at her with new interest.
‘I didn’t tell him that time,’ I say gently. ‘You did that by using my phone.’ It occurs to me that maybe Darnley would sooner conceal his methods. It might be diplomatic to gloss over her casual phone use.
It also occurs to me that she was on-site for some reason. If she’s on a roll she’s troubled in some way. Our students don’t just wander in off the street.
I pat her hand and say nothing.
Definitely rehab.
I hover while she fusses with her hair and make-up and finally slips into a cubicle. As another one frees up I do too, listening out for her. Other women come in and chatter and leave. When I emerge all’s quiet but she’s still in there so I hang around to wait.
Minutes later I frown. Is she on something? Darnley will never forgive me …
‘Cola?’ I push at her cubicle door.
The cubicle’s empty.
Panic rising, I reach for my phone then pause. Maybe she’s back at the table. I glance round the door but Darnley’s sitting alone at our table, his men nearby.
Is she dancing? If I go back in without her Darnley will freak. Think.
I check the small corridor I’m standing in. The locked doors are all marked ‘Private’ except one marked ‘Fire exit’, right at the end. When I push it I find it leads outside.
Could someone have come in? I reach for my phone, seriously alarmed now. As I do it the door swings open and Cola appears.
‘Where the heck have you been?’ I sound shrill. ‘I thought …’
