Читать книгу Charm - Flora Dain - Страница 10

A bath? I accept meekly. Nothing surprises me any more. I’ve agreed to his terms. I’ll go with it for now.

I’ll yell later.

He strolls into the bathroom, starts the taps, tips in various things from bottles, strolls back and inspects our lunch trolley.

I’m too excited to eat but the array of canapés, sandwiches, fruit and drinks looks tasty. Maybe I’ll try some.

Soon he closes off the taps and the suite fills with the warm, moist aroma of the bathwater but he’s in no hurry for me to get in. ‘Eat something. You’ve had a shock.’

He sinks onto the sofa and pats the seat beside him. As I take my place on the cushion next to his I can only think of the ordeal I face.

He’s going to spank me. When? Should I have refused this? How much will it hurt?

He’s surprisingly calm about it. In some mysterious way this makes it even more exciting. As he passes me dainties from the trolley and cracks open a couple of beers our fingers touch, our eyes meet and a smile plays at the corners of his mouth.

I feel colour rising in my cheeks. To distract myself I focus on the reason we came here – my ex. ‘Did you ever meet Ryan? Or is he too far down the pecking order?’

‘I watched him at interview once. Seemed pleasant enough. Struck me as a lightweight. But his work was good, they tell me. Innovative.’

I take a swig of my beer and gasp at its icy cold. His eyes dwell on my throat as I tilt the can. They burn into mine as I lower it.

‘Do that again.’ His voice is barely a murmur.

I feel a tremor run through me as our lunch turns into foreplay. Slowly I raise the can and sip again. ‘Hold it right there.’ I tilt the can down a little so it won’t spill and hold my breath as his fingers run lightly over the skin of my taut throat and then fold around my neck.

Throats are vulnerable, private. Especially so at this angle – and when you react to someone’s touch as violently as I do. I feel myself shudder.

‘What’s the matter, Ella? Are you scared of me?’

I lower the can and look him full in the face. ‘Sometimes.’

He tilts an eyebrow, his smile brief. ‘Only sometimes?’

‘Not when I’m angry.’

‘I noticed. Have you finished eating?’

I nod.

‘Drink your beer.’ His voice is soft, his expression grave.

Heat flares.

He pushes the trolley away, holds out his hand and raises me to my feet. ‘Come. Bath time.’

* * *

In the bathroom I stand in silence, arms outstretched, legs apart, as he slowly undresses me. I feel like a doll. When I try to speak he frowns and touches a finger to my lips. ‘Quiet. We’ll talk later. Let me do this.’

He inspects me as he removes my clothes, first my skimpy top, then the shorts he’s already unfastened. He lets them pool on the floor and then kicks them away impatiently. I resist the urge to pick them up, fold them and put them somewhere they won’t get wet.

He signals me to raise my arms high and then to turn for him, slowly. He takes in every angle of me as I circle. I try not to flinch as he scoops my breasts out of my bra and rests them on the cups, making them bulge a little, and then pulls my panties down so the lacy trim rests just below my hips. He runs his hands repeatedly down my sides, lingering in the dip of my waist and feeling my ribcage with his thumbs. His touch is making me burn. I’m nervous, wondering what he’s going to do.

‘Reach up and hold onto the towel ring on the tiles over your head.’ His voice is remote, its note of command edged with steel.

Warily I reach up and grasp it, feeling instantly exposed as my breasts thrust up towards his face. He smiles and stoops to fasten his mouth on my left breast. I jerk to attention as he sucks at me, his eager tongue swirling round my aureole, his teeth grazing my pebble-hard nipple with tiny nips that both scare and inflame me.

After a while he transfers to the other breast and I jerk again. This breast knows what’s coming so my nipple is that much harder, the burning feeling that much hotter. I moan aloud and writhe in his embrace.

His lips loosen around his generous mouthful of breast. I whimper as his fingers squeeze my other nipple and pinch hard, sending flames shooting all through my groin.

‘Quiet. And keep still or I’ll have to restrain you.’

‘Do I get a say in this?’

He leans up, his gaze hard. ‘Soon. Be quiet and keep still. Or you’ll be sorry.’

I arch an eyebrow, playful now. ‘Oh? How?’

He stands upright and folds his hands round both of my breasts, his grasp gentle, warm and deeply arousing. In his grip they feel enormous, resilient, like his touch alone is making them swell. My nipples tense instantly, the ache squeezing my aureoles tight around them, making them stiffen and grow numb.

‘How? Well, your spanking might be harsher and last longer than it would have just now, let’s say.’

Deep between my legs something begins to throb. It was pulsing before, but now it’s positively painful. He’s not playing. Something about his manner tells me that for him this is deadly serious and I’ve just agreed to it and accepted his terms, whatever they are …

Ye gods …

‘Are you going to hurt me?’ I try to sound calm. I must know the worst.

He looks interested. ‘Not if I can help it. Why? Do you want me to?’

I stare. ‘Absolutely not. But I’m new to this. I don’t know what’s involved.’

He frowns like he’s puzzled and draws me into his arms. ‘Hey, you’re shivering. Just trust me. Can you do that?’

I swallow. This is all so unexpected. In reply I simply kiss him on the jaw.

He frowns down at me, troubled. ‘Do I take that as a yes?’

‘It’s just …’ I tail off as I search for words.

‘Hey. Your bath’s getting cold.’

I grin. ‘In Texas? In summer? It’s just this. If you’re doing this because you like it then fine, I’ll try it. But if this is some kind of punishment then you can forget it. I’m not accountable to you.’

He touches his lips to mine, his gaze stern. ‘You’re setting terms?’

I hold his gaze. ‘Yes. I guess I am. Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen?’

He raises my hand to his lips and kisses my fingers. It’s just a light brush of his lips across my knuckles but I sense a climb-down.

‘Fair enough. Let’s just say I like it. We’ll take it slow.’ He kisses me on the mouth, his tongue urgent and hungry, and pulls away with an effort. I can sense his excitement. I can even feel his heartbeat. I’m curious. Why does he find this so moving?

‘Now the bath. And no more talking. I’ll tell you when. Strip.’

Slowly I take off my bra and then my lace-edged panties and toss them through the door into the dry safety of the other room. At his stern look I step into the bath. I sink gratefully into the water and he stands over me, peeling away his own clothes as I drink in the view – first his sturdy chest and shoulders, his narrow waist, and the light coating of dark hair that clusters where it matters and thins where it should, snaking a trail past his navel.

Where it reaches appears next as he unfastens his trousers and kicks them away, and finally removes his boxers.

I gasp as his stiffening erection looms into view, plump and swollen, its thick curve echoing the swollen, tight feeling down between my legs where I’ve been pulsing steadily since we walked in here. He holds my eyes calmly. The arrogant flare to his nostrils tells me he enjoys my steady gaze and feels no need to hurry.

As he slips in beside me he leans along me, running his hand over me, slippery now in the foam, and watches my nipples jut and swell as his fingers encounter them. ‘Open your legs. Put your feet on the sides.’

His hand slips between my thighs and cups my sex, his fingers questing deep into me, searching, sliding in and out, teasing me with the suds. He fastens his mouth on mine, suppressing my moans with his busy, invading tongue.

This is beyond arousing. The warmth of the water and the insistent pressure of his fingers are having an electric effect on me, making my thighs ache as I grip the edges of the bath with my feet. I moan and he seizes my shoulders as he eases his hand away and pulls away from my lips, tasting gently. ‘Hey, easy. There’s plenty of time. Now me.’

I start to massage him, smearing suds into the powerful landscape of his chest and thrilling to the ripple of the muscles below. He watches lazily as I explore him in turn, teasing his hard little nipples into nubs and making him twitch. I ease down towards his shaft where it leaps and jolts above the water, and curve over to lick gently at the broad, distended head.

He pulls me back and puts a foamy finger to my lips. ‘Hey. Not yet. Keep washing.’

Obediently I run my hand down his hard, muscular abdomen and slide my fingers deep into his hair, reaching deep to soap and fondle him and then slip further back, between his legs. I feel his thighs tense along mine as I ease in deep, sliding in the slippery gel-laden foam like he did with me, and he captures my mouth again.

When he pulls back his face is stern. ‘Enough. We’ll get out now. We have things to do.’

He surges smoothly out of the water like Neptune in all his glory, knots a towel at his hips and then raises me up, scoops another towel round me and pats me dry all over. I’m sleepy after my scary morning, all soft and clean and ready for sex.

More than ready.

But sex is not on offer, I remember with a snap. We have things to do.

Still swathed in our towels he leads me into the bedroom – or rather one of them – and sits on the bed. ‘Now for your spanking. You know why I’m doing this?’

‘Because you like it?’

His eyes glitter as he hauls me over his lap, pushes my head down onto the quilt at one side of him and starts to arrange my legs on the other. ‘Try again.’

He sounds angry but I’m still defiant. ‘Because you think I’ll like it?’

I shriek as his hand makes contact with a real, stinging slap. ‘Nowhere close. Try again.’

‘That’s assault,’ I wail.

He pulls up my head by my ponytail and puts his face close to mine. He looks angry too. ‘So is kissing strange men on the mouth without warning. This is long overdue. And another reason is you’re infuriating. You take risks when I’ve tried to be reasonable.’

At that moment his phone sounds. With a sharp sigh he leans over me to reach for it, keeping his elbow pressed into my back and his leg planted firmly over mine, pinning me down.

‘Wolfe.’

The voice hums too low for me to make out the words. I see him frown. ‘The interview with BGN? Not now, I’m busy.’

The phone hums gain, the sound reproachful.

‘Make it tomorrow.’

It hums again, fainter now.

‘Contact the owners of the network. Offer a global discount on their contract for the next two months. No more calls for two hours.’

He tosses the phone across the bed and turns back to me. I’m staring at him, open-mouthed. ‘You’re doing an interview with BG News?’

He grins, his hand gliding smoothly over my soft, scented ass, which is now high in the air over his lap. ‘Nope. I’m giving you a well-deserved spanking. I’ll do the interview tomorrow. Or the next day. Whenever.’ He feels me once more, his touch firm and sensual, his breathing quicker. His voice lowers to a purr. ‘You’re right, I do like it. But it’s not just a punishment. I should have done it the minute we met. I wish to fuck I had. We wouldn’t be in this mess now.’

His hand lands again and all at once this has stopped being a joke, it’s harsh and it stings. After a while I wonder if I’ll ever draw breath again. When I do nothing’s changed. His hand’s still landing, the blows still raining down. The first few knock all the breath out of me but as I start to relax long enough to draw in air they keep coming. Their pounding rhythm settles deep in my groin, making me ache with arousal. After a while the pain and the jolting fuse deep between my legs into an agonising, regular throb.

At last he pauses to admire the view, keeping his elbow and his leg firmly in place. I hear him laugh softly as he runs his hand over my flaming backside. He’s out of breath. So am I, sobbing as I draw in air, my bottom on fire, and my groin an aching, needy furnace. Each blow delivers a violent jolt of arousal. His hand long ago lost the power to sting. Now my sex is all on fire, swollen and hot.

Seconds later he finds this out for himself. ‘Did you enjoy that, Ella?’

I sniffle. ‘You expect me to answer that?’ How can I? Heat, shame, fire and rage are burning me up all at the same time.

His voice lowers. ‘I’ll give you a clue. From what I can feel down here –’ his fingers slip slowly and deliberately along my sex, making me writhe ‘– I’m guessing you did. Be honest with me. Why are you so wet?’

I sniff again.’You have to ask? OK, I enjoyed it. Very much.’

‘Then maybe I’ll give you a tiny reward. Would you like to come?’

What a question. I squirm but it’s no time for pride. I hiss a strangled ‘yes’ through clenched teeth.

He caresses my punished backside with a loving sweep of his hand, cool now against my fiery skin. ‘Then you shall. But you’ll have to earn it. You’ll have to beg.’

And now the torment really begins. His hand lands hard, making me cry out, and instantly his fingers sink into me and over my pulsing mound, barely grazing my hottest place.

Yes, yes, I’m nearly there … I strain to reach his hand but he wrenches me back and removes his fingers, leaving my quivering orgasm poised in space. ‘Another?’

I’m frantic now. ‘Yes, yes, another.’

Nothing happens. ‘And the magic word?’

I grit my teeth again, earning a painful tweak on my nipple. ‘Please. Another.’

Another fearsome blow lands on one side of my fiery bottom and his fingers mercifully slide into me again. I lean into his hand as my climax edges even closer.

Again he holds off. ‘Another?’

I writhe and once more he takes his hand away.

‘Well?’

‘Yes, yes, another already,’ I wail. With an effort I remember my manners. ‘Please.’

It goes on far longer than I’d have thought possible. I start to tremble, tearful with the constant agony of denial. But at last he takes pity on me and his hand lingers, his fingertips circling gently. They slip along my wire-live sensitised folds, probing intimately as the jolt of his final blow jerks me against his fingers. My orgasm explodes and I convulse round his hand, shrieking at the suddenness of it and overwhelmed by the wave of rapture that engulfs me.

I hang over his lap, sobbing. He sits very still and holds me in place over his knee. He waits in silence. As I grow calmer he hauls me off his lap onto the bed and I curl up in a ball, sobbing into the quilt. He curls round me in a warm, protective shell as the spasms fade into a deep, contented glow. He reaches between my legs to cup my still glowing mound, his hand warm and firm.

For a while we talk, for a while I doze. He keeps his hand firmly in place, taking possession, staking his claim and stubbornly refusing to give ground. But I’m growing edgy. I want him inside me. I want him to fill me. He must want it too, surely?

His erection juts at my back, hard, silky and hot. The very thought of it so tight and so close sparks new flames. My climax was spectacular and gut wrenching but I’m only half done. Sex is a game of two halves. Right now I need his half, the hot thrust of ridged gristle that completes my pleasure, fills me up, plunges and surges deep into my hidden, needy places and gives them purpose. But to my fury he still holds off.

Why? If this is my punishment it’s pretty effective. Now I’m needier than ever, aching for him, still incomplete.

His phone rings, making me jump. He slides his hand out from the warm, clinging nest deep between my legs and puts the phone to his ear.

‘Wolfe.’

This time the message is brief. He switches it off with an impatient flick and sits up beside me. ‘We’ve got a trace on Mitchell. He’s back in Dallas.’