Rich Pickings

by Ashe Barker

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  A Totally Bound Publication

  Rich Pickings

  ISBN # 978-1-78430-222-1

  ©Copyright Ashe Barker 2014

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright September 2014

  Edited by Sarah Smeaton

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2014 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Melting and a Sexometer of 3.

  A Richness of Swallows

  RICH PICKINGS

  Ashe Barker

  Book two in the A Richness of Swallows serial.

  She craves control. He demands her naked surrender.

  Dan Riche was the one man she hoped never to encounter again, so when she ran into him unexpectedly at a wedding, Summer Jones couldn’t be held responsible for her actions. Except, Dan thinks differently. He intends to punish her for lashing out at him in her frustration, and much to her surprise, Summer intends to let him.

  Reunited with her closest friend, Freya, and finding new friends and fabulous opportunities at Black Combe, Summer is soon caught up in a passionate relationship with Dan as he reintroduces her to his powerful brand of kink. He effortlessly awakens all her submissive instincts, and Summer’s resistance crumbles along with her doubts. But even as she responds to Dan, can she leave the shadows of her past behind?

  Dan confuses her. He scares her. He makes her do things she never dreamed possible, and she loves all of it. But Summer prefers her life to be tidy, doesn’t she? Where does a turbulent relationship with a fascinating, unpredictable Dom fit in to her ordered existence? He punishes her, hurts her, controls her pleasure, demands her obedience.

  Summer always needed to be in control. Now she’s naked, on her knees at his feet. Dan demands her submission. Can she relinquish her fragile hold on her security and trust him instead?

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to Hannah and John, as ever, with grateful thanks for their continued patience.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Downton Abbey: ITV plc/ STV Group plc/ UTV Media plc

  Facebook: Facebook, Inc.

  Porsche: Porsche AG

  Tesco Express: Tesco PLC

  Yorkshire Life: Archant Community Media Ltd

  Savlon: Novartis International AG

  Google: Google, Inc.

  Clio: Renault S.A.

  Audi: Audi AG

  Vanquish: Aston Martin Lagonda Limited

  Land Rover Discovery: Jaguar Land Rover Automotive PLC

  Ikea: INGKA Holding B.V.

  Mini: BMW AG

  Barbie: Mattel

  iPad: Apple, Inc.

  Pizza Express: Cinven

  Chapter One

  I go back into Dan’s bathroom to clean my teeth and emerge to find the bedroom empty. Unless you count his elegant morning suit hanging on the front of his wardrobe, that is, looking very Downton Abbey. I stroll over to it, fingering the sleeve of the long-tailed dark gray jacket. Fine cloth, expensive. I wonder if he hired it, or it’s his own suit. Apart from weddings, there can’t be much call for this sort of thing. The waistcoat, in a lighter gray, hangs inside the jacket, making a striking contrast. The trousers and Dan’s pale blue tie are draped haphazardly across the bed. I instinctively straighten and smooth them, jumping back guiltily as the door opens.

  Dan comes in, a tray balanced precariously on one hand and his pristine white shirt hanging from the other. He back-heels the door closed again before depositing the tray on the bedside table. He lays the shirt on top of the trousers, glancing curiously at me as he does so. He probably knows I’ve been moving his things. Just wait until he sees what I just did to his bathroom, not only his toothbrush and shaving gear lined up perfectly, but now all his other toiletries arranged in order of size. It’s a bad habit, I know that. But I can’t seem to help myself. I contemplate nipping back in there to mess things up again but the delicious aroma of toast and bacon assaults my nostrils, and my stomach grumbles noisily. Dan’s smile is wry as I peer eagerly at the tray.

  “I knew you’d be hungry. I went down for my shirt and found my little brother on breakfast duty so I relieved him of some supplies. I don’t want you fading away from hunger—I have plans for you. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, but we’ve got toast, bacon, some scrambled eggs, even a few mushrooms I found in the bottom of the oven. I think he was saving those for himself, but life’s a bitch sometimes. Help yourself. Oh, and there’s coffee. Lots of coffee. Are you done in there? I still need to shave.” He heads for the bathroom. So much for trashing it again before he sees it.

  In any case, my mouth is watering. This is like being back at Freya’s—she was always bringing me food in the hope of fattening me up. It’s never worked, but I’ve no objection to folk trying.

  “Thank you. I’m starving. Shall I share it out?” It doesn’t seem as though he intends to eat with me, but it’s only polite to offer. I’m working on my manners.

  “I’ve had mine. I ate at Tom’s before I came back over here. That’s all for you. Barney followed me up here so I daresay he’ll help you out with any leftovers.”

  I perch on the side of the bed, and pick up a rasher of bacon. I take a bite and chew happily. Dan’s brought me very generous portions, but my stomach feels as though my throat’s been cut and I doubt there’ll be much left over for this Barney character.

  “Who’s Barney? Another friend of Tom’s?” I reach for a fork to shovel up some of the egg.

  Dan stops, turns, heads back for the door to the landing. “You must remember Barney. You met him yesterday.” He opens the door and leans out. “Barney! Come on in and say good morning to Summer. You might even part her from a slice of bacon if you look sharp about it.” He glances back at me as a second rasher disappears down my throat. “Or perhaps not…”

  I stand, startled. I’m wrapped in just a bath towel, in no state to make polite conversation with new friends. Dan stands back to allow the newcomer in, and I gasp as the dog, which masquerades as a mountain lion
, strolls calmly into the room and plonks itself down at Dan’s feet.

  I recall seeing him yesterday as I arrived, just before Dan’s unexpected appearance sent every coherent thought from my head. And yes, Rosie did say the massive dog was called Barney. He and Rosie headed off for a walk, then he spent the rest of the evening in her bedroom while the party was going on.

  “Idiot mutt. She’s the one with the bacon, not me.” Dan nudges the great hairy monster with his toe as I stare at it.

  Up close this…creature is what my gran would have described as built like a brick shit-house. He’s huge. Absolutely fucking gigantic. Dark brown mainly, with some black here and there, his fur is thick and long. His dark brown eyes are gentle enough I suppose, which is certainly a welcome feature. But the sheer size of him is overwhelming. His shoulder comes to waist height on Dan, and I swear the floor shakes as he moves. I can only stare. He seems a lot bigger in here than he did when we were outside on the front steps.

  “What. Is. That?”

  “That’s Barney. He likes bacon.”

  “Is he a dog?” I have my doubts. “Does he eat whole pigs?”

  “Yes, he’s a dog. A Newfoundland or maybe St Bernard, with some Great Dane thrown in I reckon. And no, no pigs. He’s civilized. And friendly.” As if to prove the point Dan crouches to sink his hands into the thick ruff of fur around the dog’s neck, rubbing vigorously.

  The behemoth responds by rolling onto his back, his massive paws in the air and kicking wildly as Dan rubs his huge chest. I have to admit, Barney doesn’t look dangerous exactly. Even so, I’m unnerved.

  Dan stands, and the dog does too. He seems to notice me at last and ambles over to sit in front of me.”

  “He likes to have his ears tickled. Like you do.”

  “Even so, if you want me to roll on my back with my legs in the air, you have only to ask.”

  “How obliging of you, Miss Jones. I’ll remember that. Now, can I leave you two to get acquainted or would you prefer me to shove Barney outside again?”

  I’m on the point of asking him to do just that, when Barney takes matters into his own hands. Or would that be paws? He lays his head on the bed, gazing up at me, his expression one that I could only describe as pleading. I’m not daft. I know it’s the bacon that he’s taken a shine to, not me, but I haven’t the heart to have him evicted.

  “No, he can stay. I like dogs. It’s just, well, he was a bit of a shock.” I reach out tentatively to pat the huge head.

  Barney closes his eyes, his massive tail wagging slowly.

  “Good dog. Good Barney.” I hope.

  “Don’t let him on the bed. Or near my suit. I don’t want to be brushing hairs off my trousers all day.” With a final, dazzling smile Dan disappears into the bathroom, leaving me to share my breakfast with a furball the size of a small planet.

  Barney and I make short work of the food. He could throw his weight about but he’s a very well-mannered, patient dog, waiting for me to pass him his share. I find myself ruffling the fur on the top of his huge head, which he seems to like. His tail thumps the floor in a slow, contented rhythm. I’m not sure if he’s allowed to lick the plate but decide to let him. I daresay it’ll go in the industrial sized dishwasher down in the kitchen so hygiene won’t be compromised.

  “Right you. You might be able to loll around eating bacon all day but I’ve a wedding to get to.” I remember Dan’s admonition regarding his suit and decide it might be best to encourage Barney to wait elsewhere while I finish getting ready. Luckily he’s a biddable type and I have no difficulty shoving him back out into the corridor. I expect he knows the food is all gone so he may have been about to take his leave in any case. I shut the door on Barney and head for Dan’s bathroom to join him. I need to rinse my hands.

  * * * *

  The wedding is fabulous. Low-key, under-stated, but simply beautiful. Tom, Dan and Nathan are quite splendid in expertly fitted morning suits. Nathan is the best man and Tom has ushering duties so I traveled over to Greystones with Eva, Rosie and baby Isabella. Dan’s kiss in the bedroom as Nathan hollered up the stairs at him to get his arse in gear delivered plenty of promise for later, and my pussy is clenching and moistening in gleeful anticipation as I try to pay attention to the serious proceedings we’re gathered to witness.

  The wedding passes in something of a blur, my mind firmly fixed on a point somewhere a little later in the day. I sit, stand, sing and pretend to listen as the registrar leads us through the service. I’m aware that the vows have been exchanged, the bride-kissing executed with a degree of enthusiasm which I’d describe as bordering on raucous, but maybe that’s just me.

  The formalities concluded, I follow the rest of the party outside to the marquee where the food is being served, to nibble on dainty little sandwiches. Or maybe they’re canapés. I’m really not paying attention, my head is somewhere else entirely. And my pussy is bent on betrayal, moist and hot, spasming hard at the most inopportune moments.

  “Sparkling wine, Summer?”

  “Yes, thank you…” Spasm.

  “Would you like a slice of wedding cake?”

  “No, I already…” Clench.

  I’m nervous, excited, disgustingly wet, and having the time of my life.

  The music is lively, much of it delivered by Rosie and Eva. Not much of a dancer myself, I spend much of the afternoon chatting with Freya, and Eva when she’s not playing her violin. I’m acutely conscious of Dan’s presence as he moves around the guests. He occasionally catches my eye, a swift smile, a brief wink the only signals that there’s more between us. It’s enough though, and I’m happy to let the day float past me in a pleasant haze.

  Freya and Eva seem to have become firm friends and I listen quietly while they discuss Tom’s latest business project, a proposed wind farm. Freya is very interested in the details, and even if she hadn’t already told me her intentions, I’d recognize the signs. I resolve to find an opportunity as soon as possible to ask her what she has in mind. And I have no doubt at all that she’ll have questions for me following her visit to Dan’s bedroom this morning.

  What shall I tell her? That he fucked me, and it was wonderful? Yes, I could say that much. That he’s going to spank me for punching him yesterday, and I’m oddly calm at that prospect? Well yes, maybe I could say that too. That I’m starting to imagine him doing a whole lot more to me, and my pants get wet just thinking of it? Oh no, definitely not sharing that. Not yet anyway.

  My head is whirling with the events of the last twenty-four hours, and for once that doesn’t bother me unduly. I have no idea how I feel, except that it’s broadly good. Dan both scares and excites me, and my stomach is churning as nervous, agitated butterflies seem to flutter their wings inside me. I really should have avoided the prawns—I suspect seafood and spanking will be a volatile combination for me. Still, too late now.

  Is it disloyal to compare Dan and James? Possibly, but I can’t help it. James’ self-obsessed attempts at lovemaking versus Dan’s intuitive sensitivity to my needs. James’ clumsy fumblings only served to satisfy his own needs. He didn’t even know I was faking orgasms. Dan’s assured touch makes any thought of subterfuge both irrelevant and quite impossible. Dan would never be fooled by artful gasping and strategic clenching, not for a moment.

  And what about those…others? The clients sent by my mother to my bedroom, men I serviced because it was easier that way, then got rid of, refusing even to look at their faces. Featureless, nameless, brutally erased from my memory, the details just a dark fog and better left that way. Even now, four years later, I still feel sick at the recollection, and there’s nothing of the sensual butterfly in that. This is just plain ugly, humiliating, shameful. And buried. I’ve moved on.

  “Are you alright, Summer?” Freya taps me on the arm and repeats the question, her hands swiftly forming the words. I shake myself, pulled from my reverie back into the present.

  “Yes, yes of course. I was miles away. Sorry.”


  “Are you sure. You look pale.” This from Eva. “Doesn’t she, Dan?”

  “Maybe. A little. Do you need some fresh air? A glass of water perhaps?” I turn to him in surprise. I never heard Dan approaching, but he’s taken the empty seat next to me and is peering anxiously at me.

  “I’m fine. Really. Just a bit tired, that’s all. The traveling yesterday. Then the party, and it’s been a long day…”

  “Well, not yet it hasn’t. I was going to ask you to dance with me, but if you’re not up to it we can sit this one out.”

  “Oh no, you should dance. It’s a wedding, and everyone has to dance at a wedding.” Rosie sounds excited. She’s just arrived at our table, Barney on her heels. She tugs at Dan’s sleeve. “I’ll dance with you, Uncle Dan.”

  “I’ll hold you to that later. For now, could you take Barney outside please? He’s not really allowed in here. And as for you, Miss Jones, are we dancing?”

  “Are you asking?” I smile at him, my mood lightening.

  “I’m asking.”

  “Then I’m dancing.” He stands, holds out his hand.

  I take it, and find myself drawn onto the dance floor. I’m not surprised to find Dan is an excellent dancer, another accomplishment to add to a growing list. His hold is possessive, comforting, assured but not restrictive. We whirl and glide through the crowd of other guests, and I seize the opportunity to wave to Ashley as she passes in Tom’s arms, and again in Nathan’s.

  We’ve had no opportunity to chat today, and I don’t expect we will. I’d been hoping to have more time with her though before she goes off on her honeymoon. There’s still so much we need to catch up on.

  “Have you enjoyed your day so far?” Dan’s breath tickles my ear as he leans down to whisper to me.