The Pleasures of Spring

by Evie Hunter

  ‘I don’t scream.’ She was offended by the idea. She wasn’t some silly child who thought that screaming would make any difference to what happened. Over the years she had learnt that it was what you did that mattered.

  ‘We’ll see.’ Andy took one of her legs in his hands and admired it. He kissed her knee before bending it so that her ankle was close to her bottom, then he proceeded to tie it into place. Andy tied her other leg quickly. She was immobilized.

  ‘And the last detail.’ Andy took out a length of white muslin, put it around her eyes and tied it. She wasn’t in pitch dark, but Roz couldn’t see anything. ‘Now for the fun.’

  Her legs weren’t tied together and she could move around but her hands and feet were out of her control, and the blindfold had reduced her world to her sense of hearing, smell and touch. She twisted and found she could move from front to back or even sit up, but with great difficulty, and she couldn’t go anywhere.

  Roz flopped around, struggling against her bonds, trying to see how tightly they held her. Andy, damn him, knew what he was doing. The knots were out of reach of her fingers and were slither-proof. She was trapped. Roz had no choice but to endure whatever Andy had in mind, and a tiny shiver shook her at the thought.

  He pulled her up so that she was leaning back against his chest. She could feel his trousers against her bum and she wondered why he was still wearing them.

  Then he trailed his hands over her sides and she forgot everything else. She had to accept whatever he did to her. Every caress was magnified. The gentle drag of his fingertips was like a brand. She gasped.

  No, she wasn’t going along with this. Andy had tied her up, but that didn’t give him power over her. She wasn’t some little sub who got turned on by a man who bossed her about. She was the one who gave orders and men rushed to obey her.

  ‘Tell me when you’re done,’ she said in as bored a tone as she could manage.

  He laughed, and nipped her neck. She was surrounded by him, by his heat and masculine scent, a mixture of sandalwood, musk and pure Andy. The nip wasn’t hard, but there was something primitive about allowing it. She was female, imprisoned and controlled by a powerful male.

  Andy turned his attention to her ear, which he explored with tongue and teeth, driving her mad. Her ears were so sensitive that she could never decide if she loved or hated having them touched. He flicked his tongue into a whorl and whispered, ‘You’re mine.’

  Even while she fought to remain impassive, to be as inert as possible, she reacted.

  She melted at the possessive note, her insides clenching with need as his big hands found her breasts. Her skin was on fire, eager for his touch. He pinched one nipple and she gasped.

  Andy took advantage of her open mouth to kiss her, a hard kiss that was claim and brand and promise all at once. ‘You can fight all you like,’ he told her. ‘It can only end one way.’

  Another kiss. ‘My way.’

  His tormenting fingers continued to play with her breasts, teasing the nipples, advancing and retreating. It was going to drive her crazy. She struggled against her bonds again, but they held firm.

  ‘Forget it, Roz. We’re going to be here all night. And all day tomorrow, or as long as it takes.’

  How long had they been here? She had no idea. With no outside sounds, there was a womblike quality to this room. She could be anywhere in the universe, outside of time and space.

  No matter how much she wiggled, Andy kept up those sense-shattering caresses. She fought to keep her mind detached, to think about the scam she was going to run. She needed to talk to Frankie soon about buying the horse and –

  Andy bit her other earlobe; fire streaked through her and she forgot her own name.

  ‘Are you still there?’ she managed. She had to get him to stop.

  He laughed. ‘All in good time.’ He sucked gently on the tender lobe, as if to apologize. ‘We have all the time in the world.’

  ‘Please hurry it up, I have things to do.’

  And if he didn’t, she’d go insane. Already she was a panting, aroused, quivering wreck from his touch on her breasts and neck. What would happen when he moved further down?

  She found out. Holding her upright against his chest, he stroked down her stomach, feeling the muscles under her skin, tracing the indentations of her ribs, dipping into her belly button. Were his hands magic? Every touch was more intense than before. The rasp of fingernails along her sides was a pleasure so sharp she could barely breathe. He repeated it on the other side and she gasped, unable to stay silent.

  ‘Enjoying yourself?’ asked that tormenting voice.

  ‘Doing algebra in my head,’ she replied.

  He laughed, a low, knowing sound that made her shiver. ‘I’ll have to work harder.’

  He pushed her thighs apart and trailed one finger down over her sensitive clit.

  Roz screamed. There was nothing else to do. The flash of sensation consumed her whole body.

  ‘And I thought you never screamed.’

  Roz turned her head and snapped her teeth, almost hoping that she could take a chunk out of his arrogant mouth. But he was gone, and with a laugh, he flipped her onto her back and positioned himself between her legs.

  She wanted to kick him. But although she could open and close her thighs, her efforts were futile. Andy was still wearing his trousers. He laughed again, damn him.

  ‘I think you’re warmed up now,’ he said. ‘Let’s get on with business.’

  Andy leaned down and kissed her stomach, dipping his tongue into her belly button and fluttering it. Every muscle she had clenched and she tried to curl up to make him stop. Nothing worked, he was like a man at a banquet, determined to taste everything. And she was the feast.

  For an endless time, she fought against him. Against the pleasure he was lavishing on her, the way he was using her own body against her.

  She must resist, must resist.

  He took a gentle bite from her inner thigh, awakening nerve endings she had never been aware of, and short-circuiting her brain.

  Why was she fighting? Andy was going to win. He was always going to win.

  She shuddered, accepting the truth of that, and gave herself up to the dark eroticism. ‘Kiss me,’ she begged.

  He obeyed so promptly he must have been waiting for it, and the kiss was deep and dark and dominating. His tongue took possession of her mouth while his body pressed hers into the divan. Even now, even when she was urging him on, he went slowly, taking his time as he branded her as his.

  The fight was over and Roz surrendered to his capable hands and mouth and body. She no longer tried to work out what he was doing, but allowed him to do what he wanted. He was the master puppeteer and all she had to do was relax and allow him to pull her strings.

  The darkness behind her eyelids became streaked with red and silver and black as Andy pushed her body to heights she had never experienced. She didn’t bother trying to keep track; remembering how to breathe was enough of an effort.

  A lick of his tongue, a nip of teeth, a scrape of nails, and sparkles fizzled through her, so intense she had to gasp and pant and scream. She had no idea what he was doing, except that he wasn’t doing the one thing she wanted.

  She needed him, pounding hard, obliterating the hunger he had drawn from deep inside her, but Andy refused. A long finger slid into her pussy, while his other hand pressed on her stomach and she wailed. She needed to come, needed it so badly she was begging.

  ‘Not yet,’ he whispered. ‘Not for a long time.’

  She heard the sound of a bottle opening, and suddenly his hands were covered with oil. The smell of coconut perfumed the air, mingling with the scent of her arousal. He massaged deep into her muscles and flicked her nipples.

  ‘I expect you’re a bit sore after that riding lesson the other day,’ he said. His strong hands dug into her thighs, finding aching spots and working out the stiffness. Then those oily fingers teased her clit before sliding into her pussy.

&
nbsp; Roz opened her mouth to scream an orgasm, but he withdrew them.

  ‘Naughty, naughty. We’re not ready for that yet,’ he said and turned to massage her toes.

  Time lost all meaning. She gave herself up, allowing Andy to take charge of her body, and letting her mind go wherever it wanted. She was helpless, unable to form a rational thought. Her mind was dominated by the hunger driving her body, which Andy wasn’t going to satisfy until he was ready.

  She floated on a rainbow, able to see the entire universe, while experiencing all the pleasure in the world. Too much. Too much and never enough.

  ‘Such a good girl, you deserve a reward,’ Andy whispered, nudging between her thighs. He took her clit into his mouth, sucking and licking while three fingers pushed inside her, the pressure a counterpart to the delicate nibbling. His other hand reached up and pinched her nipple.

  She shattered, all the tension inside her breaking, so that she couldn’t draw breath, could not scream, could do nothing but ride out the waves of pleasure that Andy was forcing on her.

  21

  For once his bed didn’t feel like the inside of an icebox. It had been worth carrying her up the stairs to his room after that amazing scene. Andy stretched, luxuriating in the unfamiliar warmth and slowly opened his eyes. Her naked back was inches away. Soft strands of Titian hair stretched across the pillow. His cock, already at half mast, stirred when he remembered the events of the previous night.

  He had never known a woman who had challenged him so much, or submitted to him so beautifully. Oh, she had fought against it, but her surrender was a gift, rather than a victory. A warm glow of pleasure swept over him. It had been one of the best nights of his life.

  He curled up to her back, brushing her hair aside so that he could nuzzle her neck. Andy cupped her breast, pleased when her nipple peaked against his palm. His cock stirred again. This was his ultimate fantasy – Roz Spring, naked and willing in his bed. He had to have her.

  ‘If you put that thing near me again, I will chop it up and feed it to you for breakfast.’

  ‘You don’t mean that, baby.’

  ‘Oh, I do mean it. And I am not your baby.’ Roz sat up and tugged the sheet around her as she scanned the room for her clothes.

  ‘It’s a bit late for modesty, don’t you think?’

  Her answering flush delighted him.

  Who would have thought that she could blush? Andy patted the place beside him. ‘Stay. It’s too early to get up yet.’

  Roz eyed his erection. ‘Tell that to your cock. Now, where are my clothes? What did you do with them?’

  Andy frowned. He had a vague recollection of dropping the red silk outfit on the floor of the dungeon before he …

  ‘Did you tear my dress?’ Roz lost her grip on the sheet as she lunged for him.

  ‘You vixen,’ he muttered as she made a full-on attack on him with her fists and teeth. He should have remembered from the night before. Roz liked to dish out pain as well as receive it. He rolled them both over, using his weight and strength to pin her beneath him.

  ‘I did not tear your dress. I swear. You’ll be able to wear it again.’

  ‘To what?’ The anger in her eyes subsided and she relaxed in his arms. ‘If you’re organizing another meeting of the wimpy intellectual society, count me out.’

  Andy snorted with laughter. ‘Maybe we can have a romantic dinner somewhere when Dougal and Poppy are at the ball.’

  ‘What ball?’

  ‘It’s the social highlight of the equestrian year. All posh frocks, champagne and the horsey set getting their social rocks off.’

  ‘How posh?’

  ‘Oh, stud farm owners, the odd sheik or two. The Aga Khan turned up last year. Tim O’Sullivan is guest of honour this year.’

  Roz perked up considerably. ‘We should go,’ she said, with more enthusiasm that he would have expected.

  He would have liked nothing better than to walk into the ballroom with her on his arm, but she was supposed to be lying low. With the number of photographers in attendance, she could end up in one of the newspapers or society magazines and there was no way he could let that happen.

  ‘Sorry, but with Hall on the loose, Niall wants me to keep you under wraps.’

  ‘We could go and stay out of the way.’

  Why was she so keen to go to a horsey ball? ‘Not a chance. Sorry, but there is no way you can go. It’s out of the question.’

  Roz pouted. ‘Fine, but you better make it up to me.’

  Her ready capitulation made him uneasy.

  Following a tepid shower which she refused to share with him, Andy made his way to the kitchen. Roz was already drinking coffee and chatting with Maggie. He had to admire her. Roz was a natural empath. She seemed to be able to connect with everyone from the stable hands to his elderly aunts.

  Everyone except Ariana.

  Andy patted his pocket, checking for his phone. In the past, he would have met Ariana for lunch but after that discussion with her, not to mention Roz’s insecurity, that wasn’t going to happen.

  Submission had been a big thing for Roz. He doubted that she had ever trusted anyone else enough. The thought made him feel privileged.

  He would have liked to spend longer exploring her boundaries, finding out what made her tick and what made her scream. Their time together was trickling away like grains of sand in an hour glass and he didn’t know how he was going to tell her that she was going into protective custody or how he was going to let her go.

  Damn, he was falling for her. He didn’t know when or how, but there was no denying that she had got under his skin.

  He was in danger of falling in love. Real, happy-ever-after love. The kind that involved resigning his membership in Club Noir and the other fetish clubs.

  Except, of course, that none of that was possible. Roz was going into protective custody and probably into witness protection. They only had a few more days together before they said goodbye for good. He had to make sure he didn’t let this go any further.

  Poppy entered the kitchen, her coat draped over her arm. ‘Ah, there you are. I thought, as Andy was going to Belfast, that we could go along and do some shopping. I have to buy some shoes for the ball and I’m sure Roz could do with a new dress for it.’

  Andy shook his head. ‘Sorry, Mum, we won’t be able to make it.’ He didn’t want to tell his parents why it was so essential that Roz stayed in Lough Darra. They had enough problems without worrying about Hall. ‘I’ll be working and Roz won’t go without me, will you?’

  He pinned Roz with his eyes, willing her to tell Poppy she didn’t want to go. Instead, she smiled sweetly. ‘I’d love to visit Belfast with you. I need to buy a new phone. My old one isn’t working for some reason.’

  Like a bullet from Hall’s gun. Damn. He did owe her a phone, but they could have spent the day in bed not traipsing around town. But when he saw the delight on his mother’s face, Andy forced a smile. ‘Great. I’ll drop you into town and I can buy you a new phone while you’re shopping.’

  At least it would save him from hanging around outside dressing rooms.

  Roz waved to Andy and watched him disappear into the crowd. She would have preferred to torture him by dragging him around the clothes shops, but at least she would get a new phone out of it. She patted her pocket, checking for her purse. There wasn’t a lot of money in it and she had no credit cards now. She hoped that Poppy didn’t have expensive tastes.

  The city was bustling with shoppers. ‘This is lovely.’ Poppy beamed at her. ‘I barely get half an hour in the stores when I’m out with Dougal.’

  ‘Where would you like to go?’ Please don’t mention the designer place that Andy had taken her to.

  The laughter lines around Poppy’s brown eyes crinkled. ‘I’m awfully fond of a good rummage around the second-hand places but Dougal won’t set a foot in them. Would that be okay?’

  Relief swept through Roz. Vintage was her favourite kind of shopping. Mostly it was her on
ly kind. ‘That sounds great.’

  Poppy patted her arm. ‘I can see we’re going to get along fine.’

  The first store she dismissed with barely a flicker of interest. ‘Too bridesmaid,’ Poppy pronounced before heading out onto the street again.

  The next store was better. While Poppy and the owner discussed the merits of an original fifties evening dress, Roz turned her attention to the open door leading to the stock room at the back of the shop, where unsorted clothing was piled high.

  She knew from experience that most of the good stuff never made it onto the hangers. It was bought for a pittance by staff. This shop had obviously just got a new consignment. Keeping one eye on Poppy and the assistant, she made her way to the back of the shop.

  At the sorting table, she fingered the fabrics. Most of the clothing was high street, but there was the odd gem. A dark green satin dress caught her eye, it would be fabulous with her hair, but it was too big. `

  Through the open door, she could see that they had moved to the display case. Poppy asked to see a small gold bangle.

  ‘That’s genuine art deco, love,’ the middle-aged assistant pronounced. ‘I’ll fetch the key.’

  Roz didn’t have much time. Beneath a black velvet evening dress, she saw a flash of cobalt blue. The label said Valentino. Even second hand, she couldn’t afford it, and where would she wear it anyway? Andy said they couldn’t go to the ball.

  The imp in her made her pick it up anyway. She waved to the assistant. ‘I’m going to try this on.’

  She slipped out of her clothes and pulled the dress on over her head. To die for. She had heard the expression but never truly appreciated it until now. It fitted her like a glove. If Andy saw her in this, he’d be hard for the night. Maybe she could wear it for their dinner date?

  ‘Are you decent?’ Poppy called.

  Roz laughed. ‘No, but I’m dressed.’

  She pulled the curtain back and watched as Poppy’s mouth formed a perfect O before she announced, ‘It’s beautiful. You simply must let me buy it for you.’