The Pleasures of Spring

by Evie Hunter

  Usually he would have done what she wanted, satisfying her before he took his own pleasure, but not yet. He wanted more from Roz.

  Her muffled groan of frustration made him smile. He wanted her mindless. With mouth and hands, he paid homage to every inch of her, savouring her taste and scent, licking the salty sheen of sweat from her skin in a deliberate and sensuous torture.

  Roz tossed her head from side to side, her movements becoming more frantic. She opened her mouth to protest. He put his finger to her lips. The implication was clear: quiet or all of this will stop.

  Her mutinous expression made him want to laugh.

  ‘Do you want to come?’

  She narrowed her eyes at him, silently promising revenge, but he didn’t care.

  ‘Roll over.’

  Roz lay face down. Her rounded ass made him want to cheer. He hated scrawny women. He kneaded the glorious globes with reverent hands. Roz was a wet dream of delicious curves. Bending his head, he bit her creamy flesh.

  She gave a protesting squeak and tried to roll away from him.

  Andy swatted her lightly and she lay still. He knew that she couldn’t take much more, that the silence was killing her. ‘Poor baby,’ he murmured.

  Roz wasn’t the only one suffering. His cock was aching. If he didn’t have her soon, he would die. When she rolled again he didn’t try to stop her. Her cheeks were flushed and her mouth was a luscious pink temptation. How could he have forgotten about that mouth?

  Andy lowered himself along the length of her so that they were skin to skin. Grasping his head urgently, she drew him down, holding him in place so that she could tangle her tongue with his. Her lips tasted of mint and her own unique flavour. Roz arched her hips urgently against his. With a groan he pulled away from her. Holy shit. How had he forgotten protection?

  Andy leaned down, grabbing his trousers and groping for the wallet. He muttered a silent prayer when his fingers encountered a single foil packet. They would have to make the most of it. He tore it open and sheathed himself quickly. The time for games was over. He nudged her thighs apart with his knee and braced his weight on one arm. Clamping his hand around the base of his cock, he rubbed the tip against her opening and drove home.

  She was slick and tight. The heat enveloping his cock was amazing. Andy reined back the urge to move hard and fast. If Roz had been impatient before, he was going to drive her crazy now. Flexing his hips, he pulled back and thrust again, keeping his movements slow and controlled, feeling the pressure build.

  Roz wrapped her legs around his hips, urging him on.

  There was nothing but her. Every movement of his hips increased the sensory overload. Buried deep inside her, Andy never wanted it to end. Their gazes locked. His balls tightened. He increased speed, thrusting harder.

  ‘Oh god. Andy.’ Her breathless cry as she came broke the silence.

  He was beyond caring. Every nerve ending along his spine tingled in warning. Eyes wide open as he gave a final thrust, burying himself inside her, shuddering helplessly as he came.

  17

  Roz was smiling when she woke the following morning. Her body hummed with satisfaction and pleasure. She stretched, enjoying the after-effects of a wonderful night of love-making, before her mind caught up with her body.

  She stiffened. What the hell had she done?

  She had made love with Andy McTavish. Or if it wasn’t love, it was something damn close to it. Far too close and too dangerous. She knew a player when she saw one, and Andy was one of the best she had ever met. She couldn’t allow herself to fall in love. That way led to a broken heart.

  Besides, the bastard had made her submit to him again. She squirmed in embarrassment when the details of the night before replayed themselves in her mind. She liked being on top, calling the shots. She gave the orders and her lover obeyed. That was how it was.

  Of course, it had been a very long time since she’d had a lover of any sort. Maybe she was just out of practice, and that was why she had allowed Andy to take control like that. She felt vaguely guilty that she had allowed him to lavish pleasure on her, while she had meekly followed his directions.

  She wasn’t submissive. She didn’t do what she was told. No one gave her orders. Not even Andy McTavish.

  Resolve strengthened, she groped under her pillow for her phone, before she remembered she had none. Since it had saved her life, she wasn’t going to complain about losing it, but now she had no way of telling the time. She hadn’t been wearing a watch during the fight scene.

  Was that only yesterday morning?

  She’d have to borrow Andy’s phone to check on Frankie again. In the meantime, daylight was sneaking in under the curtains, so it was time to get up. She winced getting out of bed, but she knew she’d work it out in an hour or two. And there was that enormous bathtub to help her soak out her aches.

  Roz flung open the curtains and caught her breath at the view outside. God, she hadn’t realized how beautiful Ireland was. All that stuff about the Emerald Isle didn’t do it justice. The sun glinted off a lake while green hills rolled into the horizon with barely a single building to interrupt the vista of patchwork fields and hedges.

  A herd of cows grazed in the distance. Or were they horses? She squinted. She was sure they weren’t sheep, but that was all. She was a city girl, no doubt about it.

  She got lost once on the way to breakfast, and found it laid out in the dining room. Poppy was there, sipping tea and nibbling on a piece of toast. She had obviously been waiting for her, because as soon as Roz came in, she jumped up to embrace her and insist that she eat.

  Roz hated missing meals, and had every intention of eating, but it was nice to be fussed over. Poppy seemed to think Roz was planning to starve herself and pushed her towards the sideboard where a small heater kept eggs, bacon, sausages, mushrooms, fried soda bread and potato farls warm. ‘Don’t let it go to waste. Andy will keep you busy showing you around and you won’t have time to snack –’ She stopped. ‘Is there something you usually have for breakfast that we’ve forgotten?’

  Roz didn’t want to tell her that her usual breakfast was a Pop-Tart or a quick bowl of cornflakes with semi-sour milk. She helped herself to the eggs and bacon as well as mushrooms and toast, feeling a quick pang for poor Frankie. By the time she sat down, Poppy had poured her a cup of coffee.

  Was this how the rich lived? It seemed like far too much trouble for her taste.

  ‘Eat up, make the most of being young and active, it’s all so different when menopause hits and the weight creeps on.’

  As Roz ate, Poppy outlined all the things she had planned to entertain her for the next couple of weeks. ‘And after that, we’ll see. I’m sure you’ll be organizing the wedding by then.’

  Roz put down her fork. Did Poppy really think she and Andy would do things that quickly? ‘Oh, we haven’t thought that far ahead.’ The last thing she wanted was Poppy making wedding plans.

  After breakfast, Poppy showed her around the house, and Roz got dizzy trying to keep track of where everything was. There were a ridiculous number of rooms. Most of them were under covers and barely half a dozen were open and heated, but the faded opulence was beyond her imagination. She had never been anywhere like this, and with each room filled with genuine antiques, she worried that she was going to show herself up.

  She had worn a beautiful jersey dress and court shoes to breakfast, before realizing that a pair of jeans would have been more suitable. Poppy was wearing an elderly pair of tweed trousers and a pair of ratty runners. In France, it had been easier to fit in, to blend with the crowd. Any mistakes could be blamed on being part of the nouveau wealthy English set. Old money was different. She resolved to pay closer attention to how people behaved here.

  The closest she had ever come to a house like Lough Darra was an invitation to a BDSM party in a chateau near Versailles, but she had never got there.

  She had been driving to the chateau when a police car had signalled her. Old instincts h
ad kicked in and she had accelerated away. After a chase through the suburbs of Paris, she had been caught and arrested. Although she had done nothing but drive away, and might have been able to explain that, the police hadn’t been impressed by the collection of kinky toys in the boot of her car. The handcuffs and riding crops in particular interested them, and she ended up in custody for three days before she managed to convince them she had done nothing more criminal than drive with a broken tail-light.

  Funny, that evening had been the start of a major change in her life. She had realized she didn’t want to be one of the usual suspects any more. She didn’t want to have to run every time she saw a police officer. She wanted a regular life.

  Or this one.

  Poppy was telling her the history of a large Chinese pot in the west drawing room, a young maid was cleaning ashes out of the grate, and Roz was overcome with the contrast between this house and her pokey apartment in Peckham.

  This is the life she could have had if the O’Sullivans had bothered to come looking for her. If Sinead had told them about her. Instead of living hand to mouth, no education, no stability, not always enough to eat, she could have been living like this.

  Roz sank down on a silk-covered sofa, and one of the dogs, Maxi, she thought, climbed into her lap and licked her face. Roz buried her face in the dog’s coat. She’d never had a dog. They had never had a house where she could keep one. She’d never had the sort of life where walking the dog was an option. She’d never had anyone to cuddle up to her like this, to lick her face and pant with pleasure to see her.

  Anger simmered beneath her surface. She could have had a dog like this. And a life like this. Instead, she was the beggar at the feast. Life wasn’t fair. But she was used to that.

  Andy arrived, heralded by Mini. ‘There you are. I want to take you riding.’

  Roz pulled her hard-won control into place. ‘Sure. But lend me your phone so I can ring Frankie first.’

  He handed it over. ‘Go and put on some jeans and I’ll find you a spare pair of riding boots and hat.’

  In her room, Roz dialled Frankie’s number and it rang out. That was odd. She rang again, in case she had got the number wrong. This time, it was picked up after six rings and a woman said, ‘Hello?’ in a careful whisper. ‘Who is it?’

  It took a moment for Roz to recognize the voice. ‘Cheyenne? It’s Roz, I’m looking for Frankie.’

  There was a sob in Cheyenne’s voice. ‘He’s going to be okay. Really, he is.’ She sounded as if she were trying to convince herself.

  The penny dropped. No wonder Frankie had sounded odd last night. ‘What did the doctor say?’

  ‘That he had no business discharging himself from hospital. He’s got three broken ribs and a broken nose and torn muscles. The doctors said the chain mail and leather shirt saved his life. But he wouldn’t stay in the hospital. Something about being too vulnerable there.’

  Damn macho men everywhere. ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘In my trailer, asleep. I told the doctor I’d keep an eye on him and make him take his meds. He can’t work until he’s better. He can barely feed himself right now and he won’t believe he’s not Superman.’

  Roz wasn’t surprised. ‘Tell him I was checking on him and to get well soon.’ She forced a smile into her voice. ‘And this is your chance to unleash your inner Domme and make him do what he’s told.’

  Cheyenne laughed, wobbly but real. ‘Actually, I was hoping it would be the other way around.’

  ‘When he’s better.’ She closed her phone. Typical of Frankie to insist there was nothing wrong when he had been injured because of her. How was he going to manage now? No income and bills mounting up. At least she had a few days to find a solution while Cheyenne was taking care of him, but it was up to Roz to find a long-term solution. She couldn’t allow Frankie to suffer for saving her life.

  Frankie’s scheme to sell Nagsy to Tim O’Sullivan popped back into her head. It was a crazy idea, but at the moment it was the only plan she had. But first, she had to learn how to ride and she wasn’t looking forward to it.

  ‘Find a pair that fits you and put them on.’ Andy pointed at a row of riding boots lined up against the wall in the tack room. ‘I’ll get you a helmet and a back protector.’

  The boots were well-worn, but made from hand-sewn leather. A couple of pairs of wellies stood at the end. Up above them, a row of black helmets and velvet-covered riding hats crowded on a shelf.

  While Roz checked the boots for size, Andy pulled down a pair of suede chaps and zipped himself in. Her mouth dried. Those chaps framed his ass in a way that should be illegal. She couldn’t prevent an image forming in her mind of him wearing chaps without the jeans underneath, and imagining how the soft suede would feel against her inner thigh.

  Down, girl she told her libido. She wasn’t going to get any more deeply involved with Andy than she already was. That was the way to get her heart broken.

  She watched as Andy put a saddle and bridle on a horse. He was skilled and deft, and the horse stood quietly for him.

  ‘I didn’t know you could get ginger horses,’ she said from outside the door. Now that the moment was drawing near, she was getting more nervous about riding. This horse looked like a giant.

  ‘She’s not ginger, she’s chestnut. Her full name is Lough Darra Diamond, but you can call her Minty.’ He led the horse into a big shed which turned out to be a covered arena, with a wood chipping floor, flood lights, mirrors high up along one wall and a little balcony for spectators.

  Reluctantly Roz went to his side. Learning to ride didn’t seem like such a good idea any more. Minty shuffled her feet, they were half the size of Nagsy’s but still big enough to do serious damage. She smelled of leather and horse, and her back was level with Roz’s eyes. ‘I don’t think,’ she began, but Andy had grabbed hold of her left leg and boosted her into the saddle.

  Roz shut her mouth with a snap. Now that she was up here, she’d make the best of it. If she was going to pull off a scam to convince Tim O’Sullivan that she owned a potential Gold Cup winning horse, she needed to be at home in the saddle. She paid attention to Andy’s instructions about how to hold the reins.

  ‘Keep a light tension on them, so that you have a gentle contact with her mouth.’

  Bad choice of words. It reminded her vividly of the gentle contact with his lips last night, the one that had turned her into a mushy puddle of lust. From this angle, she could reach down and kiss that perfect mouth. Stop him talking about horses.

  Andy went on. ‘Now sit up straight, balance yourself so there is a straight line from your ears, through your shoulders, hips and heels. Good, that’s nice.’ He took the leading rope and led Minty around the little arena.

  She was so high up. She had never realized how big a horse was. The ground was miles away and she had a horrible suspicion that if she fell, Minty would stand on her with those dinner plate-sized hooves.

  She knew it was stupid. She had fallen from much higher while free running, but this was different. Minty stumbled slightly and Roz dropped the reins to grab her mane.

  ‘Don’t do that,’ Andy snapped.

  ‘Sorry, she startled me. This is all new. Which pedal is the brake?’ she asked.

  Andy stared at her with narrowed eyes. ‘Okay, we’re going to do this differently,’ he said. He took the reins out of her hands and tied them in a knot out of her reach. Then he took away her stirrups, leaving her sitting on top of the giant horse with nothing to hold on to.

  Andy backed away, playing out the leading rope and picking up a whip from the middle of the arena. He flicked it at Minty who gave him an offended look but walked on.

  ‘Hey, what’s the idea?’ Roz called.

  ‘I’m going to control the horse. Your job is to stay upright and balanced. Learn to move with the horse. Put your hands out if you need to but don’t hold anything. Let your legs balance you.’

  Minty walked around while Roz tried to get used to the motion,
and she planned ways to torture Andy. Her spell as a Domme had taught her lots of interesting things to do that would reduce the average man to a pleading wimp. She’s make him rub Deep Heat on his balls. Nipple clamps with weights on them. Freshly peeled ginger. A chastity lock. Oh yeah, now that would be real torture for Andy.

  ‘Good, much better.’ His voice recalled her surroundings. ‘Now we’re going to trot.’

  He flicked the whip and Minty moved faster, into a jarring march that bounced Roz almost out of the saddle. She leaned forwards and grabbed the mane again.

  ‘Sit up,’ Andy said sternly. ‘Balance yourself. Slide your bum deep into the saddle, feel the movement.’

  ‘That’s all I can feel, you bastard,’ she muttered.

  Andy laughed. ‘Now, while she’s trotting, I want you to recite the alphabet backwards.’

  She risked taking her eyes off Minty’s ears long enough to glare at Andy. ‘Are you crazy?’

  ‘Just do it.’ He didn’t sound as if he would change his mind.

  With a bad grace she began. ‘Z, Y, X, W.’ She paused. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded. She had to concentrate to remember what came next. ‘V, U, T, S, R.’ Another pause while she tried to recall the order of the letters. Andy flicked the whip gently and the horse kept trotting around. Eventually she got to ‘C, B, A’.

  ‘Well done,’ Andy said. ‘And do you notice how much more relaxed you are?’

  Damn him, it was true. She had been so busy with the letters that she had forgotten to tense up against the movement of the horse.

  ‘This time we’re going to canter. And you’re going to have your eyes shut.’

  He must be out of his mind. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me. Not going to happen.’

  ‘Yes, you are. Trust me, I won’t let anything happen to you. And I know you have courage.’

  Her insides knotted, but she didn’t want to back down. Resolutely, she shut her eyes. ‘Go for it,’ she managed.