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‘Thought what?’ She dashes a hand to her face, like she’s been crying.
‘You OK?’ I touch her arm.
‘You spying on me too?’ She snatches her arm away and now she’s back to the charm-school dropout. ‘I wanted some air, that’s all.’
‘Darnley’s worried about you. He says –’
She pushes past me. ‘I know what he says. I want to leave now. I’m tired of dancing.’
Back at our table Darnley takes one look at her sour expression, so different from a few minutes ago, and frowns at me. ‘What happened?’
I roll my eyes. ‘How should I know?’
I’m still dizzy from her mood-swing. The rehab’s definitely not working.
We drive back in silence, thankfully without Cola, who’s now en route to her hotel. Darnley’s expression is unreadable. As we walk in and we’re finally alone he glares down at me. ‘What’s going on? How much do you know about all this, Ella? A call came from your cell. You take for ever in the powder room. Now she’s upset. What happened?’
‘She slipped out by the fire exit. Just for some air,’ I add quickly. ‘If I didn’t know better I’d say she was meeting somebody. Darnley, what’s wrong with her?’
He frowns. ‘How do I know? Stalking’s a nasty business. It gets to people. Lucky one of the men was stationed outside.’
At my furious look he smiles and pulls me into his arms. ‘Hey. Just testing. Forget about her. Now for my revenge.’
His mouth fastens on mine before I can catch my breath or prepare. His kiss is urgent and hungry, tasting me like I want to be tasted, lingering like I need him to linger. His tongue has a language of its own and now its subtle signals reach every part of my body, sending sensation rippling out all over me.
When he pulls away his look is veiled but strangely intense. ‘I like to see you out on the town. But tonight something tells me you’re uneasy. Why? Is it because you’re with me? Or because we had company?’
I press against him, warmed through with his glorious male heat. I can feel him swelling against me. Little shifts and flexes of his muscles tell me I’m wanted and tell me how much. And one part in particular is telling me very clearly indeed. I can feel it stiffening, ready for action.
‘It’s just … I’m not used to the security detail. Kind of cramps my style.’
His expression hardens. ‘Too bad. That’s how I work.’
I gaze up at him in despair. ‘Yes, but it’s hardly normal, is it? Most people have fun without an armed guard in tow.’
His arms wind around my back, then one hand eases down my zipper and the other slips inside my dress and splays out all over my tender rump, where the effects of his spanking are flowering fully under the tight satin. ‘It’s just for a couple of days. And they’re not here now. Or hadn’t you noticed in all the excitement? I like this dress, by the way, but we’re going to have to rearrange it a little.’
The rearrangement is swift and dramatic. He bunches it round my hips, hauls the top down to pin my arms and lifts me bodily over to the bed. In seconds he’s kneeling over my face, his eyes burning down into me with all the fire he’s kept hidden so long.
Excitement flares. The pressure at his flies is startling now. I feel an answering pressure down below. With an effort I lean up to try to unfasten him with my teeth, one of my most effective party tricks whenever we reach this point.
With a grin he pushes me back down. ‘Not so fast, missy. You’ve still got some ground to make up from your schoolgirl antics earlier. I’ll do the honours here.’ He’s smiling as he frees himself. His massive column juts in my face, my doom and my delight, and as he edges it just within reach of my eager lips I lap eagerly, the light scent of his shower gel blending with his body heat in a heady mix that stirs my senses and sends a fierce glow straight to my groin.
‘Whoa, easy. Leave some for later.’ His voice comes out in a rasp, surprising me a little. Why is he so moved by this? Why tonight? He’s been watching me all evening, like he can’t get enough of me. Now he’s close to the finish line already and we’ve hardly started …
‘Lick it a little. All the way. I like to see your tongue. You look like a kitten with cream.’
I obey eagerly, nervous at first and then eager, thrilling to the salty, silky surfaces he shifts to present to me, making it easier for me to reach. His breath is uneven now as he holds off from release, determined, as always, to make me beg.
Just when I’m sure he must erupt into orgasm he pulls away with an effort, wrenches my dress a little further down my arms, scoops my breasts out of my lacy bra cups and plunders them with his mouth.
I writhe below him as he feasts first on one and then the other, his kiss deep and arousing as he fastens on each swollen, stiffening nipple in turn, bringing heat to the surface of my areolae and nibbling my hard, rumpled little pebbles to tight, quivering numbness.
Pinned and helpless in my bunched satin sheath I can only plead, rigid and inflamed as his eager mouth travels slowly down to my wide-splayed thighs, still sheathed in black nylon, my arching feet still poised in my achingly high heels. With delicate, skin-rippling precision he eases the tip of his tongue under the tight, lacy edge of each stocking-top and licks, leaving a taut, wet trail around the top of each thigh, achingly close to my pulsing centre. With a sound somewhere between a sigh and a snarl he finally lands on my fully exposed, quivering sex and starts to feast.
I shudder with excitement but his angry look quells me to silence as his tongue-tip works deep into my private places, sending heat and shame through me, equally fierce, equally inflaming. Slowly, tasting as he goes, he makes his way back up towards my face and when he leans back over me I see a glint in his eyes as I hear the rip of foil.
Focused and stern, he holds my gaze as he plunges inside. Now my rigid position has one big advantage: I’m trussed so tight his thrusting loins ram hard against my pleasure centre at every plunge.
His expression softens as he pounds. ‘Keep looking at me. I want to see this.’
He watches my pleasure build. Bliss creeps closer but my pleasure must dawn and flower under his steady gaze as he observes my surrender.
Amazingly it works. As his eyes lock ruthlessly on mine, my rapture swells.
‘Here it comes, my pet. Sing to me.’
It’s too much. My climax explodes inside me, more intense than I’ve ever felt before, and I sing. Not singing in the usual sense of the term, more a strangled wail, but the light in his eyes seals my rapture as he laughs deep in his throat as he speeds to his finish.
‘Shit, Ella, you’re like a miracle.’
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_c83cbc6f-2650-5111-a080-9832bcd84230)
In the morning we wake up together. We do this so rarely it takes me a second to adjust. I open my eyes feeling like I’m six and it’s Christmas. Then I feel heat all along my side and a strong, muscular arm draped over my waist and I remember where I am: heaven. Or somewhere close.
His eyes are closed, his amazing, angular face close to mine, his breathing regular and long like he’s deep in sleep. I drink him in for a few moments before it occurs to me this is doubly rare. On the few occasions we’ve fallen asleep in the same bed he’s usually up, shaved, dressed, hired, fired and made a couple of million before I come to. But today, briefly, he’s all mine to cherish and admire.
It’s maybe the closest I’ll get to this man of mystery.
‘You trying the goods? Or just licking windows, as they say in Paris?’
He’s awake. And a dark glitter along the line of his lashes warns me he’s laughing. He leans on one elbow and grins down at me. ‘Sleepyhead. Turn over.’
I resist, laughing too. ‘They lick what in Paris?’
Warm and lazy from his body heat I swivel in his arms and now his vital part prods at my behind, his manhood triumphantly awake and every bit as eager as I am to start the new day with a bang.
He seizes me between the legs and cups my mound. His warm, firm pressure has only one purpose: to make me horny. Like I need to be any hornier than I am right this minute.
‘Windows. Lécher les vitrines. French for window-shopping. And know what?’
At the rip of foil I splay my thighs, my lower belly pulsing already with an aching, persistent throb as I pant with excitement. ‘What?’
I lean back against him as he pulls me close, his middle finger sending a bolt of electricity through me as it slips between my legs and finds my money-spot. Delight makes me gasp as he surges inside, his full length gliding in easily as my pulsing places respond eagerly to his wake-up call and rouse my sleepy belly. My muscles flow around him, drawing in his jutting, arrogant power-tool like I’m quicksand.
He’s still laughing against my ear, his breath hot and disturbing. ‘When I take you to Paris I’ll lick something way more fun than windows.’
I writhe in his arms as my climax builds.
‘This, maybe.’ His soft chuckle shudders through me as the wicked rhythm of his fingers drums me to a climax. Seconds later he explodes inside me in a gush of heat, our fusion all the sweeter for being stolen so early and snatched from sleep.
I lie in his arms for a while, too wakeful to sleep, too sleepy to talk anything but nonsense. Like a fool I try to lighten the stalking thing by telling him about the woman outside my apartment. ‘And she was outside the Academy this week.’
‘How often?’ He breaks in, his voice harsh.
‘Three times, maybe four. Does it matter?’
‘Shit, Ella. You might have said.’
I tease his lips with my finger. ‘Don’t get mad. She’s probably waiting for a bus.’
He pushes me back down, leaning over me with a growl. ‘This settles it. You’ll have to move in.’
‘What? Here?’ I stare up at him as the idea takes hold of me. Live here, in this palace, with this stunning man? And now I come to think of it, my friend Billy’s back soon. She’ll want space to entertain Eldon …
I fight down temptation. I’m my own woman. ‘Darnley, we’ve talked about this. I need my space during the week. I need to work.’
His eyes darken. ‘Me too. But I need you. I need you here. And know what? I need you now.’
He hauls the cover off me and kneels between my thighs, his expression purposeful as he caresses my thighs, pushes them apart with deliberate twitches of his fingers. Ignoring my laughing protests he lowers his tousled head and fastens on my most private place, where my throbbing, lively little bud is still aglow with orgasm.
At the first touch of his tongue I jolt, at the second I laugh out loud, but as he keeps on, his tongue urgent and compelling, I sink into the easy sea of pleasure swelling around me as another climax starts to build. Soon I buck and thrash in his jaws like a ravished doe as he triggers another earth-shattering orgasm. It ripples slowly away, leaving me glowing like molten gold.
He surges up over me and pulls me into his arms, laughing and triumphant. ‘See? That’s what you need. You need me.’
Later we lounge in bed with a breakfast tray and coffee brought in by a scuttling maid. Has she seen women here before? I’d sooner not know. As I sip he’s already pacing the room, checking his phone, issuing orders.
All at once he glances my way. ‘Tonight we’re due at the State House around eight. That suit?’
‘We are?’ I scan his face and swallow. ‘Are you sure you want me to come?’
His look instantly clouds. ‘Shit, Ella, don’t back down now. I thought you’d be pleased. Anyway, my mother wants to meet you.’
I sit up in alarm. ‘What? How does she know about me?’
For a full second he looks so surprised I wonder what I’ve said. Next second he’s swooped down to place his arms at either side of me on the bed, his face close to mine. ‘One, I told her. You’re the first girl I’ve mentioned to her, so she’s interested. Plus, she already heard of you. She likes your poetry.’
‘You’re kidding.’ I giggle as he sits next to me and slips his hand in my robe, fondling my breast. I arch my neck with excitement. ‘Is she a poet too?’
His face is deep in my neck now. I can feel his breath on my skin. ‘Not really, but she knows a lot of people, including your old professor. Chances are –’ his hand slips over to the other breast and now my arms are wound round his waist, pulling him closer ‘– he’ll be there too. Hey. Move over.’
I’d hoped for a long, lazy day, lunch al fresco followed by a long, lazy, poolside afternoon in the last of the sunshine before the weather turns cold. But as the afternoon wears on Darnley spends more and more time on calls. From his irritated tone I guess it’s about Cola again.
As we get ready to go out he prowls my room, looking carelessly perfect, occasionally adjusting his cuffs but more often glancing darkly at me. I grow uneasy as I adjust my tiny diamond earrings and put the finishing touches to my hair.
As he draws close my eyes widen. He’s brought the bracelets.
From the box the diamonds flash and dazzle. Their brilliance does little to calm my nerves. Now I’m on high alert. He raises my hand to his lips, drops a soft kiss on the inside edge of my palm and snaps on the first bracelet.
‘You’ll wear them all evening. Maybe longer.’
His low murmur and his dark, steady look send excitement pounding through me as heat flares deep down. At the same moment I feel a shimmer of fear.
I raise my other hand and he fixes the other bracelet in place, his gaze solemn. Our ritual has already begun, the air between us ablaze with bling and crackling with tension.
I’m still in my underwear, a porno-effect paper doll in heels, stockings and skimpy lingerie. His sweeping clinical look makes me burn.
‘Lose these.’ He fingers the lacy trim at the edge of my panties and wrenches it a little way down my leg. Hurriedly I step out of them, kicking away the wisp of designer lace that cost more than my last month’s food bill.
He slips a finger deep into my little valley. ‘Open your legs.’
Slowly he runs his fingers along one side of my swollen folds and then the other, holding each lip lightly in his finger and thumb. This is strangely intimate and very controlling, like a tailor feeling cloth. A shudder runs all through my belly and down the backs of my legs.
His eyes lock on mine, dark with intent, his expression grave. ‘I guess you know what comes first.’ He gives my folds a slight but unmistakeable downward tug.
I swallow. I’m learning to expect this, to yearn for it, even. We start the ritual with the classic submission he loves. But tonight I sense a new urgency about it.
The worship part is easy. I could do this for hours, if it pleases him, if it helps. But tonight his need for my mouth seems to go deeper than mere pleasure. As he towers over me, fully dressed now, easy and elegant in a suit that cost way more than my salary, I gasp as he frees himself and his erection looms before me. I love to do this, but the bracelets make it even more exciting. They bind me with more than metal.
I lick him with loving sweeps of my tongue and tease him with delicate kisses, fighting down panic. Will we be late? Will his sister walk in and find us? But he’s in no hurry.
As I lean over and take him deep I suck hard, scared I’ll screw up his evening by taking too long.
To my surprise he touches my hair and smiles. ‘Hey, easy. The party starts when we get there.’
So I go slow. When he finally groans I feel a deep swell of satisfaction, laced with a purely female hint of relief that my evening gown is still folded primly over a chair, innocent and unspoilt. Only my flushed cheeks and my pulsing, reddened lips will give me away – or maybe my air of primitive female pride.
I savour the moment. Who knows? It may be the best part of the evening.
The Great Hall of the Massachusetts State is House is ablaze with glitz. Its splendour has no effect on Darnley. As ever he’s casual and urbane. Cola quickly joins us. She looks bored, like she does this kind of thing often. But I’m overawed by the marble and the glitter and sincerely grateful my costly gown passes muster here with so many diplomats and dignitaries to see it.
As always with Darnley at my side, I feel like a princess. As always, his dark looks and fleeting smiles, like the firm, telling touch of his hand on my arm, my waist and my neck, make me feel like a queen. And as always the wicked thoughts that consume me when we’re this close make me randy as a cat.
He leads me over to a group where a slim middle-aged blonde with a regal air is holding court. ‘This is my mother, Señora Savoy Pemberton Castillo. Mother? Meet my girl. This is Ella. She’s a poet.’
The woman’s smooth, fine-boned face softens in a hint of a smile. ‘With those eyes? Of course she is.’
Darnley’s stepmother Lydia has the cautious air of a woman who’s come up in the world. Her face is still beautiful, her expression cool.
I sense a hint of the great outdoors. I recall his mother runs a stud farm. She sweeps me with a quizzical look as her son kisses her cheek but when she touches my hand hers is surprisingly warm. ‘I’m so glad to meet you, Ella. And do call me Savoy. Everyone does. So you’re Petronella Dean? I love your work. When I heard Darnley had read your poem Life in landscapes at the Institute I hoped I’d get to meet you.’
I’m touched by her courtesy. ‘You know my old professor?’
She smiles, warmer now. ‘Oh, yes. We go back a way. He’s here, somewhere.’ As she looks vaguely round, I notice Cola slip away into the crowd.
Savoy watches her go, pressing her lips together as she lowers her voice. ‘I’m so sorry to spring Cola on you both. This business scared the wits out of all of us. And she’s so moody, poor child. Do forgive her. I’m sure she’s been difficult.’
As she tells me about their trip I lose focus a little. She walked out on her son. How could any woman do that? When I tune back in to what she’s saying we’re still on Cola.
