‘Yeah.’
‘I daresay Emma would enjoy it. We’ve been exploring the pleasures of figging recently. Do you ever fig Lucy?’
‘All the time,’ said Richard.
Finally, it was out. Ah, the relief.
But the relief didn’t last long.
‘Where shall I?’ Richard held up the removed plug.
‘Oh, I’ll call the maid. Consuela!’
Lucy lay, bare bottom up, face on fire, as Peregrine’s maid approached the scene.
‘Put that in some soapy water, would you? It’s been in this bad girl’s bottom, so I wouldn’t touch anything other than the handle. Thank you so much.’
The maid said nothing, not even a yes or no. She must be familiar with this kind of thing, Lucy supposed, but all the same …
Richard’s hand travelled all over her back and shoulder blades, then lowered her skirt so that it covered her bottom once more.
He bent to speak into her ear.
‘Are you OK?’
‘Think so,’ she said, not really knowing the answer.
‘Let’s go to our room, shall we?’
‘Don’t you want to—’
‘There’s plenty of time, Luce. We’ve got two weeks. Let’s not gallop into anything you aren’t ready for.’
In their room, with its panoramic view of the hills and its ensuite magnificence, Lucy reflected, not for the first time, how lucky she was to have two doms who so perfectly understood her limits. They knew the difference between a clench of aroused dread and a clench of genuine fear, meekness born of joyful submission, or tension. It was a gift she had no intention of relinquishing, ever.
Lying between Richard and Rob, kissing one then the other while they stroked and massaged every inch of her, she felt the impossibility of ever giving either of them up.
Outside, Tack had chased Celia to the edge of the pool, over the side of which she was now bent, with her bikini bottoms pulled to her knees.
She shrieked and flipped from side to side as Tack smacked at her wet bottom, sending fine spray up into the air with each stroke.
‘Think what you got on set was a real spanking, huh? Think again,’ he said. ‘You’re getting it good now.’
Peregrine watched with a distant smile, sipping intermittently from his cocktail. Emma came out of the pool and joined him on the neighbouring sunlounger, observing proceedings just as keenly.
‘Do you ever get jealous?’ she asked him.
‘Jealous? Why?’
‘All these lovebirds all around. Celia and Tack. Richard and his menage. What happened to Callie?’
‘She and Leo decided they wanted to be exclusive. It’s part of the reason I’m here. Didn’t want to bump into her every three minutes. You know how small a world the London theatre is.’
‘Well, only from the point of view of a person who failed lots of auditions.’
‘I thought you’d make it one day, you know.’
‘Thanks. I know. So did I.’
She sighed.
‘And now, here you are in Hollywood, the perfect place to make a name for yourself, and you can’t even try.’
‘I’ve thought about it. Thought about risking it. But it’s not safe. Not with McKenna and his crew still at large.’
‘It’s a tragedy, Emma. Someone should write it.’
‘Maybe you could.’
‘Maybe I will. It’s not a bad idea, actually. How Emma Frayne’s beautiful bottom ruined her prospects.’
Tack had now removed Celia’s bikini completely and was thrusting into her with a wet slap-slap-slap no less noisy than the spanking.
Emma laughed.
‘I think there’s more to the story than my arse.’
‘I find it quite hard to see past it, personally.’
‘Yeah, well, you’re a pervert.’
‘Guilty. Speaking of perverts, what did Allyson have to say?’
‘Allyson.’
Emma looked shocked for a moment, and pale beneath her compulsory LA golden sheen.
‘Yes,’ persisted Peregrine. ‘She sent you a note. I saw Richard give it to you.’
Emma reached over to her beach bag and fished out the folded paper. She handed it to Peregrine without a word.
He read it swiftly, then handed it back.
‘She loves you,’ he said, lighting a cigarette.
‘I know.’
‘Do you still love her?’
‘I do. I lose sight of it sometimes and think I’m over her, but then something happens, like this, and I know she’d only have to crook her finger. But how can we be together, Peregrine? I’m here now. She won’t be able to leave the UK when she gets out, and I don’t really want to go back, not now.’
He took a long drag, his eyes still fixed on the rutting couple on the poolside.
‘Love finds a way,’ he said. ‘But there’s no need to worry about it now. It’s still at least a year off. And didn’t she say she hoped I was taking care of you? You know what she means by that.’
‘She knows me too well to expect me to live like a nun.’
‘She loves you too much.’
‘Don’t you think it’s weird, though, Perry?’
‘Don’t call me that,’ he almost spat.
‘Sorry. I mean, that she’s fine with us being kinky together. She must trust us a lot.’
‘She trusts you. She knows me. She knows I’ll never settle down. I suppose I’m the safest option. If she doesn’t let you get spanked and the rest by me, you might find someone else, and then that dangerous thing could happen. Love.’
‘You’d never fall in love with me, I suppose?’
‘I’d never fall in love.’
‘You must have done, once.’
‘Once was enough.’
He looked away sharply, as if fascinated by the diminishing contents of his glass.
‘I’m sorry for you.’
‘Don’t be. Be sorry for yourself. I’m going to cane you for calling me Perry. Go and stand in the corner of the living room and wait for me there.’
‘That’s not fair!’
‘I know. But it’ll take your mind off things, won’t it?’
‘And yours.’
‘Perhaps. Go on, then.’
He sent her on her way with a cracking smack to her rear, loud enough to interrupt Tack in his enthusiastic fucking and make him stare, astonished, towards them.
‘Carry on,’ said Peregrine with a wave of his hand, and he did.
Love was a strange thing.
This thought occurred to Poppy, standing on the balcony of her Parisian apartment – the one that obstinately refused to look over the Eiffel Tower or the Seine or anything picturesque or charming. Even when it wasn’t what you thought it might be, it was the best thing imaginable.
For Peregrine, it was too complex and too dangerous to allow. Its theatrical representation was as close as he wanted to get.
For Emma, it meant this half-life, this standing in a corner waiting to be thrashed by a man she liked but didn’t love. Doing it for her, making him her avatar.
For Richard, Rob and Lucy it meant happiness, no more, no less.
And for Allyson, in her cell, it was pure torture and yet it was the only thing to get her through the indifferent food, and the boredom, and the endless bickering and jockeying for position and the loneliness, the godawful loneliness. Somewhere at the end of it all was love, and it had to be enough. It just had to be.
Acknowledgements
I have many people to thank for their hard work and support in the writing of this book. First of all, Gillian, Emily, Hannah and all of the team at Black Lace, plus the imprint itself for being decent enough to rise from its ashes. Many thanks also to all of the wonderful Black Lace authors who have offered advice and inspiration – particular thanks must go to Charlotte Stein and Portia Da Costa, but there are many others who have earned gratitude simply by writing the books that spurred me into action in the first place. Finally,
all the friends and family who might not want to be named in an erotic book, but who know who they are.
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