‘You didn’t tell me she was submissive, Sir,’ he said. ‘I thought she wanted to. She did it without a murmur.’
‘It’s okay, Alex,’ I said. ‘Tell the boys they can go.’
‘They’ll be disappointed, Sir.’ Alex hovered by the door, glancing at Grace hopefully.
I glared at him. ‘Fucking good,’ I said. ‘Look, there’s been a mistake. This was all a mistake.’
She was sobbing quietly into my chest but, as soon at the door closed, she pulled away, fury in her eyes.
‘Is this what you do?’ she hissed. ‘Seduce girls into falling in love with you, so they’ll do anything to please you?’
I stepped back. ‘Now, wait a minute,’ I said, and then it hit me. ‘Falling in love?’ I said, taking a step towards her. ‘Oh, Grace.’
‘Don’t touch me,’ she snarled. ‘I don’t need your pity. You had a wife all along. God knows how she puts up with you.’
The door opened, and Ronnie sauntered in. She’d been quiet in her office all evening, and I’d forgotten our intercom was on.
‘I’m divorcing him,’ she said smoothly, and ran her hand down Grace’s cheek, brushing away some of the angry tears. ‘And, for what it’s worth, you did the right thing. He’s a stickler for loyalty.’
She shot me a fond smile.
‘Look, I’ll take her home,’ I said. ‘Sorry, Ronnie – I didn’t realise.’
‘It’s fine, Nat, really.’ Ronnie ran her hand down Grace’s hair, and smiled at me fondly. ‘She’s not going anywhere tonight, not like that. Take her to your quarters.’
I took Grace’s elbow and steered her, still sobbing quietly, towards the door.
‘And Nat,’ Ronnie said, as we walked out the door. ‘She really does look very like Aimee, doesn’t she?’
Forty One
Her
He led me back to the entrance hall, and up one of the sweeping, stone staircases. At the top, he guided me right, into a corridor and through a panelled door into a living room. It had the same high ceilings as the rest of the place, with an open fire and Edwardian furnishings. I looked about me, taking in only the most obvious details. I was too overwrought to focus properly.
He closed the door and came up behind me, putting his hands on my waist.
‘Did you mean it?’ he said. ‘When you said you’d fallen in love with me?’
He turned me round, gently, to face him.
‘I…I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Yes…no…maybe…’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Yes, no, maybe? Hmm. And you moan about me being vague with my answers.’
‘I don’t,’ I said, with a sniff, then remembered Leadenhall Market. ‘Oh, right, yes, I suppose I do.’
‘So which is it?’ He pulled me in closer. ‘I don’t do maybes.’
I looked up into his enchanting blue eyes, their lashes so dark and thick, and sighed. ‘Yes, I suppose.’
‘I suppose.’ He pulled me into him and kissed the top of my head. ‘Jeez, I’m getting all the love tonight.’
The warmth of his arms around me, and the hard planes of his chest against my cheek, made me catch my breath. ‘There’s no suppose about it,’ I said, reluctantly. ‘As well you know.’
He pulled back from me and smiled, looking relieved. ‘I know no such thing,’ he said. ‘If I did, I wouldn’t have needed to ask.’
He led me over to the couch and sat me down. ‘To be honest,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think you were interested. God knows, I tried…’
I looked up at him, disbelievingly. ‘How could you not have known? I thought you hated me.’
‘Hated you?’ He looked shocked. ‘How could you think…I’ve done my best to look out for you. I’ve had your back, even when you didn’t know it.’
I nodded. This much was true.
‘But,’ I felt my cheeks start to redden. ‘You didn’t try to stop me…tonight…in there.’ I shuddered as I said it.
‘Let me get you a drink,’ he said. ‘And I’ll explain.’
He went over to a cabinet. It was full of bottles of wine and, as he sorted through, I gazed around the room. It wasn’t just elegant, it was opulent, with beautiful cornicing and sage green flock wallpaper. It suited the Castle, but I wasn’t sure it suited him.
‘Is this where you live, then?’ I said, getting up and walking around. There were photos of him on the mantelpiece. I guessed they were of his student days, because they were mainly of sporting teams; rowers, rugby players, cricketers.
‘No.’ He poured the wine. ‘I seldom come here, but they keep it ready for me. I live in the City.’
‘And who’s this?’ I said, indicating a small photo, in a simple frame, which took pride of place in the centre of all the others.
‘Just an old friend,’ he said. He’d got out a bottle of whiskey, and was pouring himself a glass.
‘She’s beautiful.’ I couldn’t help a pang of jealousy.
‘She’s very like you, as a matter of fact,’ he said, coming up behind me. He put my wine into my hand, and let his hand drop to my hip. ‘She’s not…around anymore.’
‘Dead?’
He nodded, and raised his glass. ‘To Aimee,’ he said. ‘For whom I do all the things I do.’
On that cryptic note, he steered me back over to the sofa.
‘Sit down, Miss Anderton,’ he said.
I sat down on the sofa.
‘Stand up.’
‘Is this some sort of game?’ I said, as I got, once again, to my feet.
‘Not exactly,’ he said, regarding me with a certain degree of amusement.’Now sit down.’
I sat down again. ‘Does this serve any purpose?’
‘Yes, very much so,’ he said, sitting on the arm of the sofa. ‘It makes me think Alex may have been right in his assessment of you.’
‘Which was what, exactly?’ I couldn’t remember what he’d said. I’d been almost hysterical when I’d left the playroom.
‘That you’re submissive,’ he said and looked down at me, amused. ‘Didn’t you know?’
‘I’m no such thing.’ I took a sip of wine and glared at him.
‘Spirited,’ he said, with a smile. ‘But you do asyou’re told, which is often a sign. Stand up.’
‘I won’t.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘A challenge,’ he said. ‘I like it.’
‘It’s not funny,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Stand up, Miss Anderton.’
I stood up and then, when I realised what I’d done, I went to sit down again.
‘No,’ he said, and I stopped in my tracks. He looked up at me, amused again. ‘Now I’m giving you permission, you may sit down.’
I was tempted to stay on my feet, just to spite him, but in the end, I sat down, disgruntled. He was playing games with me again, and just when it’d seemed we were getting somewhere. To make matters worse, each time he’d ordered me about, I’d been dimly aware of my clit twitching in response. I shouldn’t be getting turned on by this – I really shouldn’t – but for some reason, I was, and it only served to make me crosser.
Whether he’d sensed I wasn’t amused, or whether it was playing on his mind too, he took a sip of whiskey and then changed the subject.
‘Now,’ he said. ‘About tonight. Did you really think I’d done all that purely for my enjoyment?’
I looked down at my wine. ‘I suppose not, no.’
‘I derived no satisfaction whatsoever from…’ He paused and drank some whiskey. ‘…what happened.’
‘Honestly?’
‘Honestly.’
‘But,’ I said. ‘You didn’t try to stop me.’
‘Not true,’ he said. ‘I did try. I asked you to think carefully. Christ, I even begged you not to ask me for it, and I’ve never once begged in my life.’
He spoke steadily but he looked choked and, for the first time, I really understood.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, in little more than a whisper. ‘But
you could’ve told me how you felt.’
‘I thought it was obvious,’ he said, with a shrug. ‘And you still persisted with your one-woman ride to ruin. In the end, I knew I had to wait it out, and hope that you came to me.’ He frowned. ‘I’d just about given up hope.’
‘Well…’ I put down my wine. ‘Here I am.’
‘And not a moment too soon.’
He pulled me up from the couch and took me in his arms, tilting his head to nuzzle at my neck. I tipped my head back and leaned in towards him, pressing my body against his as if I could melt into him. His lips traced a path up my neck and across my cheek, his stubble brushing it as his lips sought mine. As they found my mouth, I opened it eagerly, desperate to taste his tongue, to probe his mouth with mine. He moved one hand up, behind my neck, cradling my head as he kissed me greedily. The other, he used to pin my hips to his, in promise of what was to come.
For the first time that night, I felt the true thrill of passion igniting my clit and, when he pulled away and whispered, ‘Shall we go to bed?’ I only nodded, desperate to kiss him, to feel him, to touch him again.
Forty Two
Her
We made our way clumsily to the bedroom, knocking into the sideboard and various doorframes on our way, but I didn’t care. I wanted to be in his arms, wrapped in his embrace, and I couldn’t bear to let him go. I’d never felt such desire for anyone. It was so all encompassing I could barely breathe.
When we finally made it into the bedroom, he stopped and pulled away from me. It was panelled in wood, like so much of the Castle, and an ornate four-poster bed stood in the middle.
‘A bit ostentatious,’ he murmured in my ear. ‘But typical of this place and eminently suitable for what I have in mind.’
‘And that is?’
‘Do you really want to know, Miss Anderton?’
‘I do.’
‘Then, I’ll show you.’
I reached out to him again, aching to feel his warmth, but he stepped back.
‘Now, now,’ he said. ‘No touching.’
‘None?’ I said. It came out as a strangled gasp. I needed to touch him so badly. I needed to feel him against me, to run my hands over his chest, to put them to his back and pull him to me.
‘None.’
I was standing away from the bed and he circled around me.
‘Now,’ he said. ‘Where shall we begin?’
He bent down and took hold of the bottom of my dress. ‘Arms up, Miss Anderton,’ he said.
As he pulled my dress up and over my head, I moved, trying desperately to feel the touch of his hands…his body…anything, but he was too deft and evaded my every move.
‘Beautiful,’ he breathed, running his hands across my breasts. ‘Arms by your sides, now.’
‘I thought you said no touching?’ I said, reaching out to return the contact.
‘Come now, Miss Anderton, or I’ll be forced to cuff you.’ He frowned at me, amused.
I felt my eyes widen, and the tingling in my clit growing fiercer, as I reluctantly let my arms fall to my sides.
‘You don’t get to tell me what to do,’ he said, walking round behind me. His voice came next from behind my ear. ‘I can do as I please.’
‘Oh! Can you?’
‘In here,’ he amended. ‘You? You do as you’re told.’
He hooked his fingers in the sides of my panties, and slowly pulled them down the length of my legs until they were on the floor.
‘Step out of them, Angel.’
‘But I still have my heels on.’ I couldn’t see him, only feel his breath on my neck.
‘I know,’ he said, coming round to face me, as I stepped out of my panties. ‘And you look breath-taking.’
He ran his hands over my breasts again, and then let one continue its way down to my clit. As soon as I felt his fingers brush it for the first time, it ached for him, like every other part of my body was aching for him. The other hand he brought up to my mouth.
‘Now, I’m letting you touch me,’ he said. ‘On my terms.’
He held out one finger to me. ‘Open wide, Miss Anderton,’ he said, brushing my lips with it.
My lips parted of their own accord, and I stuck out my tongue, trying to lick it.
‘What’s this, Angel?’ he said, in mock reproval. ‘Are you being defiant?’
‘No, Sir,’ I said. I don’t know where it came from – whether it was from hearing his staff addressing him that way, or something else – but it seemed so natural. ‘No, Sir.’
‘But you poked your tongue out at me,’ he said, almost whispering. ‘And that was bad.’
‘Was it, Sir?’ I giggled, even as my body strained towards him, my mouth seeking to catch his finger.
‘Very definitely.’ He came round to the side of me, still trailing his finger across my face, teasing my open mouth. ‘And you know what happens to bad girls?’
‘No, Sir,’ I said, although I had a good idea.
‘They get spanked.’
He finally thrust his finger into my mouth and, as I sucked on it, he spanked my bare bottom, not once, not twice, but three times. With each smack, he thrust another finger into my mouth, until my mouth was stuffed with him. I must’ve looked terrible, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t get enough of him and I licked and sucked at his fingers, even as he started to inch them back out.
When they were about halfway out, he stopped and looked at me.
‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘You look even more delicious with your mouth full.’
I started to laugh, and he grinned back and winked at me.
‘I won’t ask if you know what I’m thinking of,’ he said. ‘I can tell you do. On your knees.’
I sank to my knees and gazed up at him. At that moment, I knew I was where I belonged.
‘Are you ready for this, Angel?’ he said, looking down at me.
I nodded, hardly daring to reply in case I somehow broke the spell he had over me.
‘Get it out, then.’
I fumbled with his fly, my fingers trembling with nerves and excitement. My clit was aching so much by now it was almost tortuous, but I ached even more to please him. When I finally managed to undo it, I grabbed his trousers and boxers together, and dragged them down to his knees.
‘A little more finesse might be appropriate, Miss Anderton,’ he said, sounding amused. ‘It’s a marathon, not a sprint.’
A marathon? I’d be lucky to survive another five minutes with this man, if I didn’t get my hands on him soon.
I lifted my hand to take hold of him, but he stepped back, away from me.
‘No touching, Angel.’
I looked up at him beseechingly, desperate to explore him with my fingers.
He just shook his head.
I reached out, my mouth open again, and he guided his shaft into it. As my lips closed around him, he let out a groan and pushed himself further in.
‘Oh my God,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Suck me, Angel.’
I did, and it nearly sent me past the point of no return. His cock was long, thick and straight, and the skin, warm and dry. He drove into me with slow, steady strokes and with each one, I longed for him to be on top of me, driving into the soft flesh between my open thighs. With each thrust, his shirt tails mingled with my hair, the buttons catching in it and tugging at my scalp. For some reason, it didn’t hurt – if anything, it just made me more excited.
His thrusts were coming quicker and deeper, pushing further into my mouth with every fresh assault. Just when I was expecting him to come and spurt his seed into my waiting mouth, he pulled out, leaving me there, my mouth still open, my breath coming hard and fast.
He stood, looking at me consideringly, for a moment or two.
‘Well, Angel,’ he said, finally. ‘Whatever am I going to do with you?’
I knew what I wanted him to do, and he knew it, too. I could see it in his eyes.
‘Well?’ he said. ‘You won’t get it, if you don’t ask for it.’
‘What did you say?’ he said, looking amused again. ‘I didn’t hear you.’
‘I said, fuck me,’ I repeated, slightly more audibly.
‘Louder.’
‘Fuck me.’
‘Louder.’
I no longer cared or felt embarrassed. I was lost in him.
‘Fuck me. Fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckme.’
‘See?’ he said. ‘You can be vocal when you choose to.’ He walked around me. ‘I might even do it, since you asked so nicely, but you didn’t say please, you know.’
‘Fuck me, please,’ I said. I was aching for him so much by now, and he was so infuriating, I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
He raised his eyebrows at my tone, and looked away, examining his nails disinterestedly. ‘I may do yet, but after that, you’ll have to beg.’
I was at my wit’s end by now. I was sure he was going to send me insane with desire. ‘Please, Sir,’ I said. ‘I beg you, fuck me.’
‘Are you sure?’ he said, bending down to pull me up. ‘On the bed, then.’
He pushed me backwards, onto the bed, and stood above me, looking down on my prone body, drinking it in. ‘And you said you weren’t submissive,’ he said, amusement all over his face.
I looked back at him, absorbing this new revelation.
‘Sit up, Miss Anderton, the time for games is over.’
I sat up on my elbow, and looked at him. He’d taken off his shirt and tie and was kicking off his shoes, his boxers…everything. In a moment, he was naked, and I couldn’t help a tiny gasp of desire. He was breath-takingly, earth-shatteringly beautiful, the tanned planes of his chest and arms and stomach as perfectly etched as his face. I was almost beside myself from the aching in my clit and the passion in my heart. If he didn’t take me soon, I thought I might actually expire, right there on his bed.
He didn’t seem to notice the effect he was having on me. At least, there was no longer any trace of amusement in his eyes, when he spoke. ‘Listen, and listen carefully,’ he said.
I nodded, trying to focus on his words, rather than his hard-muscled nakedness.
Bad Grace: A Billionaire Romance Romantic Suspense (The Filth Monger Book 2) Page 14
