“I know but—”
“Shh.” He stroked her hair. “God willing, we have many years ahead of us before we get to that point. I’ll press the rose, all right? We’ll buy a book especially for it. Maybe add more as the years go by.”
His words burrowed into her, spreading well-being and safety throughout her body. Dan’s belief in their relationship matched her own, and if they always thought this way, they’d get through anything, wouldn’t they?
“I love that idea,” she said. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For understanding. Knowing how much I—”
He lifted her chin and snuffed out her words with a kiss so full of his love for her that it curled her toes. She lost herself in the flowing sensations and knew that this moment would remain in her mind forever, a beautiful memory she could cherish and recall at will.
*****
The week ended all too quickly. A sense of despondency settled over Kat as she packed her suitcase. Images from the last few days flickered through her mind as though on fast-forward—hot, sweat-slicked skin, raunchy sex, laughter, cuddles and kisses. She’d had the best time—better than any other she could remember—but this day would see them in their respective homes, apart, lonely.
It’s too soon to move in together, isn’t it? She sighed, annoyed at herself for being so needy so fast. We’ve talked about this. Agreed to live apart for a while. No sense in moaning about it. I just need to get on with it.
She thought of Dan packing at the cabin. He’d be here soon, ready to take her back to their usual lives, albeit as a couple. The future looked bright, yet leaving here would still be a wrench. She’d always remember Virginia as the start of the rest of her life.
A knock at the door had her spinning from her suitcase on the bed and rushing to let Dan in. She flung the door open. The room service man stood in the hall, an envelope in hand.
“Hello again, Jack.”
“Morning, ma’am.” He held out the envelope. “Have a nice day!”
Kat took it and frowned as she watched him walk to the lift. The envelope was the same as the others Dan had used. A frisson of worry flitted through her and questions—ones she didn’t want to entertain—bounced around her mind. Was this all just a holiday romance after all? Did the envelope contain words that would shatter her heart, sending her home alone to live the rest of her life thinking “what if”?
She closed the door, anxiety spreading through her belly. Sitting on the bed, she toyed with the envelope, wanting to open it quickly to get it over with yet at the same time dreading doing so.
He said he loves me. Said… Just open it, damn it!
Kat ripped the seal and pulled out the folded paper. She opened the note.
My beautiful woman,
I need to confess something—and you might not like it. You might think I’ve lied to you all this time, and I have really, but not in the way you might think. But…if you can imagine what it’s like trying to find someone to love you when you’re me, you might be able to understand.
I think I just need to come right out with it.
I’m your boss.
Shit, there you go, I’ve said it.
I own the business. The man you know of as your boss…isn’t. Well, technically he is because he runs the place for me, but… Do you hate me? Is it awful that when I popped in to check things out and saw you that first day I found myself pretending to be the new guy? That I asked the manager to play along? That as time went on, I couldn’t un-pretend because we’d become close? Do you hate me? Please say you don’t.
Has it changed things?
My reason for keeping it secret was, at first, because women only seemed to want me for my money. But you…you’re different. I had to tell you this before we go any further. I feel such a lying bastard. I’ll just have to pray that you understand my deception. But if you walk away, I get it. I won’t like it, but I get it.
Can you forgive me? Am I expecting too much—should I even have any hope at all that you’ll want to know me after this? Will me having money make any difference?
Right. If you still want me on your life, I have a proposal. Let’s do this all again. Let’s have another week off.
Ready for my instructions?
A limo will be waiting for you outside your hotel at ten o’clock. It will take you to the cabin. The cabbie will wait. The key is in the yellow rosebush as before. Put your case inside then lock up and get back in the taxi. He knows where to take you. Once there, you’ll see a building you recognise. Yeah, you guessed it. Our Spanish-style dungeon. I’ll be waiting in room sixteen—Erica has instructions to let you in.
This has been the best week of my life, do you know that? Never would I have believed you’d feel the same way. I worried myself stupid, you know? And when you said you felt the same way…shit, my smile hurt my damn face. And now, with my confession and me thinking this might all be over… I just have to say that I love you, woman.
Oh, I have one more thing to say…
I’m so sorry for lying. And…come find me?
Kat squealed, tears dripping down her cheeks and off her jaw. She jumped up and hugged herself, the worry of two minutes ago no longer in existence. Did she care that he owned the business? God no—okay, it was a bit weird, but he was still the same person, wasn’t he? Did his lies bother her? Hmm, she had to admit to feeling a bit miffed at being deceived, but it was too late now—she loved him.
Pushing down on her case, she zipped it up and hauled it to the door, leaving it there to check the room and bathroom for anything she’d missed. She found nothing and hefted her case into the hallway, waiting for the lift to take her on the start of another wonderful journey. The steel doors slid open and she stepped inside, excitement churning her stomach.
In the foyer, she pulled the case behind her, the small wheels shushing over the floor.
“Miss Simmons?”
The receptionist’s voice brought Kat to a stop and she glanced back over her shoulder. “Yes?”
“You forgot to sign out.”
Smiling through her need to just get going, Kat left her case by the door and walked to the desk, scribbling her signature. Out on the path, she lugged her case along and stood at the kerb. As promised, a limo arrived and she checked with the driver he was the one she needed. The drive to the cabin took an infernally long time. People checking out from various hotels as the limo reached town caused a traffic jam and Kat huffed out a breath. Finally at the cabin, she left the case inside the doorway and locked up, putting the key in her pocket. Back in the car, she released a sigh of relief, happy to see the road to the next town clear. Once he’d taken her to the dungeon, she opened her purse to pay him.
“Already taken care of,” he said with a nod.
Senses humming, she thanked him and raced down the side street to the dungeon apartments. She pressed the bell and Erica’s bored voice filtered through the speaker.
“Yeah?”
“It’s Kat Simmons.”
“Come on in.”
The door buzzed and Kat breezed through, pleased to see Erica had already opened the lift.
“Back again so soon, eh?” she asked, head cocked.
“Um, yes…”
“He’s waiting. Off you go.”
Her mind working overtime, Kat boarded the lift and selected the correct floor. The journey went slowly and she tapped her feet, impatience ripping her nerves to shreds. She wanted to be in that room and in it now. Lift gliding to a halt, Kat stepped off and hurried to room sixteen, knocking on the door, though why she did that she had no idea. It swung open to reveal Dan sitting on the bed, toying with a set of handcuffs. She stared at him and his lazy smile warmed her heart. Closing the door, she moved to the foot of the bed and smiled.
“You’re here,” he said.
“I am.”
“And you’re not angry?”
“Time enough to talk about that later. I’ve got other things on my
mind at the moment. Are you ready?” she asked.
Dan nodded and stood.
“Then strip.”
More About Natalie Dae
Natalie Dae writes mainly BDSM erotica. She loves a Dom/sub relationship and is fascinated by how it all works. The trust issue is the best thing about it for her, so creating characters who have to adopt trust is one of her priorities. “Watching my characters bloom under tuition is such a treat,” she says. “I find it such a privilege to be able to write about something that makes me learn something new with every book.”
She lives with her husband and children in an English village and spends her spare time reading—always reading!—and her phone, complete with Kindle app, is never far away. “I can’t imagine not reading or writing,” she says. “It’s a part of who I am. Without it I’d be more than a bit lost.”
Natalie has many more BDSM tales swimming around in her head, so her workload for the future is very full. “What better way to spend a weekend than writing?” she says. “Saturdays are my main writing days, so I get up, open up a work in progress and rarely leave the desk. Unless I really have to!”
Find Natalie at Totally Bound https://www.totallybound.com/author/natalie-dae
White Rabbit – The Switch
Tabitha Rayne
If I tilt my head just so, would you know to fall to your knees at my feet? Would you know to surrender to me without question?
Good.
This one though, this one is different. As he approaches he flicks a white fan closed and pockets it in his waistcoat in the sweeping way of a man who knows how to work a three piece suit. The action raises a flush on my décolleté and I’m grateful that I am thoroughly buttoned up today. As long as the flesh on my cheeks remains cool and pale, I will be fine. I will remain in control.
He is standing right before me now—almost toe-to-toe. I pull back my shoulders and look right up into his face, willing myself not to break eye contact. But it is intense. He stares right back unwavering, unmoving until, with an almost sleight of hand skill, pulls out a pocket watch and glances at it.
“We’re late,” he says, grabbing my wrist and pulling me behind him on tripping heels.
In all my life I have never allowed someone to usher me anywhere like this. He clearly knows who I am as we are standing outside my offices and I’m supposed to be going for some air. I am furious, and yet… not. His stride is enormous compared to my stuttering trot, my legs seemingly bound together by my pencil skirt. My thighs rub together in a way that highlights the fact that I am damp. Damn it. Where is my self-control?
My heel catches on an uneven flagstone and my ankle tips painfully. He never breaks step, simply squeezes my hand more firmly and tugs. I am breathless as I almost fall over, catching furtive glances from onlookers who witness my stumbling.
“Where are we going?” I ask but he never looks back, he just throws me a gruff comment over his shoulder.
“We’re late.”
My hair has come loose. For fuck’s sake. And I can feel a cool breeze under my arms where the silk has become damp with my perspiration. Fuck. Oh god. I must look... dishevelled... Lord.
I cup my bottom lip to the side and try and puff the hair away which has fallen into my face. I’m having to grasp his hand with both of mine just to stay on my feet. This is just so undignified. And yet... the dampness has become a wetness and the tops of my thighs are positively clammy. I’m beginning to see the appeal of giving up a little control. Just a little. I am obviously furious.
He jolts me hard, appearing irritated by my unsteady gait. He drags me efficiently into a tenement doorway. It is rather horrifying compared to the opulence I’ve become accustomed to.
“This will never do. You are far too slow. Turn around.”
When I hesitate, he gives me a quick look. I know the look. It’s a, trust me, affirmation. With the tiniest of movement I nod once and it’s all he needs. He grabs my hips and spins me so I am facing the wall.
“What are you...?” I begin to ask as he grabs the hem of my skirt.
“Shh. I told you we are late.”
And with that he tears my skirt—Givenchy—from the vent all the way up to the crease of my buttocks then spins me around and whisks me back out into the street.
I am mortified. My stocking tops will certainly be visible, if not my, now soaking, panties. However, it has done the trick and I can keep up more easily with him, albeit with two steps for every one of his.
“Where are we goi—?” I begin, but he halts my words with a sharp tug to my wrist.
It is thrilling and terrifying at once. I wonder who has sent him. I sometimes allow my clients to send me gifts but they are from a very strict list. Being a world class Dominatrix has made me very rich and very fussy. It is not like me at all to be dragged around without being in complete and utter control. My toes are pushed painfully into the tips of my shoes and the balls of my feet are burning. These heels were not meant for walking, that’s for sure. My heartbeat and breathing have become steadier and I somehow allow myself to relax into this odd adventure. I barely notice what street we are on, only the painful contact my soles have with the ground keeps me tethered to this physical reality. My mind, my mind though is falling into some delicious scenarios which I never believed would turn me on. An image flashes of him tearing my skirt right off. Now he has secured my wrists behind my back and...
We stop. I topple into him and he corrects me with gruff efficiency.
He slips his watch out and tuts as it springs open.
“Late?” I venture with a hint of defiance. If the word had been an expression, it would be an eye roll.
I quiver at my bravado as he stares directly into my face, his look piercing right into my very depths, the place I keep guarded, the place I see in others but never in myself.
I liquefy under his scrutiny.
We stand before a huge oak door with those incredible iron hinges which curl and span over the whole face of the wood. Completely unnecessary to the strength of the thing, but oh so required for the look. He shoulders the door open and it is the first thing I’ve seen him do that requires effort.
He pulls me inside to the cool vast space and presses me up against a stone wall, pushing his knee in between my thighs. I hold my breath and my eyes are wide. Never, in all my life has anyone been so brazen. Does he even know who he is dealing with here?
“I know you,” he says, growling sensually into my ear. It raises the hairs from my earlobe all the way down the side of my neck right to that delicious spot, right on the inside of my elbow. My knees give way a little and I sag into the sensation, letting it engulf me.
“What do you mean?” I whisper, closing my eyes as his commanding breath tickles and delights my erogenous zones. It is like a spell. An erotic tiny imp dancing over every perfect nerve ending.
“I mean.” He pauses, taking his time. Both hands are placed on the stone above my head and his body is so close it feels like he is pressing into me though not one part of us is touching. I could easily slip out under his arm if I wanted to. “You think you are one thing, but I know you are quite another altogether.”
“Have we met?” I want him to keep talking, his voice is thrilling and I shuffle my heels apart a little, shocked to smell my own hot arousal as he takes my cue and lifts the hem of my skirt.
“Yes, many times.” His palm is between the fleshy pillows of my upper thighs.
It begins to dawn on me how I know him but the transformation is so startling that I banish it immediately, preferring instead the mysterious presence.
With one hand still supporting his weight, he has to bend his knee to enable the other to access my panties. I offer no resistance. My sex is throbbing for attention. My spirit is thrashing around like a crazy thing, losing all control and writhing, yet I remain still.
“Let go,” he croons as a finger hooks into my sopping knickers and curls briefly into my wetness. I should be ashamed at my display of utte
r self-abandonment but I am exhilarated. I let my knees buckle further until he is carrying my weight in the palm of his hand and I begin to ride his fingers like a wanton hussy. “That’s it, that’s it, give it up to me.”
Oh Lord, his voice is like a silken invader, massaging my mind and body from the inside out, seducing me with words and tone. My pussy is clutching greedily at his thick fingers and he pulses them in and out in rhythm with my thrusting.
“Yes, yes.” I gasp, my voice catching on the breath of pleasure. My clit is peaking and yearning in that desperate way and I grind it hopefully onto the heel of his hand. He obliges and rams it hard, pinning me to the wall by my mound and thrusting fingers into my burning slick hole. “Oh fuck, yes, yes,” I say over and over. My lips and tongue feel swollen and hungry too and I lurch my head forward, trying to grab onto his flesh with my teeth, my mouth, I want to join him in his feasting and eat him up. Consume him, the way he is consuming me. Eat me. There is nothing for me to sink my mouth onto except crisp tailoring and I’m frustrated by my empty gaping mouth.
He notices. Of course he does, and leans in with his full and sensual lips and kisses me hard as his fingers still work in my cunt. It is perfect. My head hits off the stone with the force of his tongue sliding greedily into my mouth and filling me. I gobble him up, meeting him mouthful for mouthful as his fingers slide on up into me again and again.
“Harder,” I manage though a muffled kiss. He cups me tighter and I can see the muscles in his shoulder twitch through his suit as he pounds me with ferocity. Drink me. My pussy wells and from deep inside, begins to shudder and spasm as I reach that glorious point. I still. Everything stops, then in a flurry of heat and gushing pleasure I come hard onto his fingers and palm. He holds me there, mouth on mine while our breathing and racing pulse subsides. Then he withdraws, leaving me a panting, dishevelled mess against the wall. He brushes himself down and takes my arm ushering me to the door which he opens.
Sexy Just Got Rich: Brit Babes Do Billionaires Page 15
