He laughed. The sound of his mirth was already as familiar to her as her own. It was a throaty resonance that reverberated through his broad and manly chest. It was a sound she thought of as calming, comforting and incredibly arousing.
‘Something other than talk? Don’t tell me you want to bake muffins again.’
It was her turn to laugh. She pressed tighter against his chest and, when she raised her head to study his face, she saw he was smiling kindly down on her. His lips, full, ripe and irresistible, silently begged for her kisses.
Trudy didn’t try to resist.
The kiss was passionate and filled with all the excitement and promise that she had hoped. She started to pull the clothes from him as he eagerly helped her out of the flimsy running clothes she’d been wearing.
Her body still ached from the exertion of three circuits round Hart’s estate. A sheen of clean sweat covered her skin. But she didn’t think he was cataloguing those distractions as he pulled the clothes from her body.
They were already in the kitchen. Without needing to be told, as soon as he had her naked, she had bent over the kitchen counter.
‘You want your arse spanking?’ He sounded curious.
‘I need my arse spanking,’ she insisted. She glanced coyly back over her shoulder and studied him through heavily hooded eyes. ‘You’re going to be away for so long. I need the memory of your discipline imprinting on my backside.’
He nodded as though agreeing.
But, instead of striking her rear as she had suggested, Hart simply undressed. He had only been wearing a bathrobe and he shrugged it easily from his shoulders.
A moment later, with no preamble or foreplay, the rounded end of his hardness was nestled over her centre and she knew he was on the verge of sliding inside.
Trudy gasped. ‘The punishment,’ she reminded him. ‘You were going to punish me.’
‘No,’ he whispered. He was leaning close so his words could spill direct into her ear. ‘We’re going to be parted for a fortnight. I have no intention of punishing you. We’re about to make love.’
She stiffened, momentarily confused by his words.
‘No spanking,’ he explained. ‘No discipline. No power play. I just want to make love.’
She remembered saying the same thing for him, and melted beneath the suggestion. They were still standing in the kitchen. She was bent over the counter and staring across at the greenery of the chicken runs, the stillness of the carp pond and the stables and cottage. It was a view she was used to seeing through the narrowed slits of eyes squeezed into squints through pleasure.
But, this time, her eyes were wide open and she and Bill were making love.
He pushed his length into her, stretching her wetness and filling her with more than just the presence of his erection. His hands were on her hips but, rather than gripping her with oppressive power, he held her gently as he buried himself deep into her sex.
She clutched him tight with her inner muscles.
He responded by grunting and pushing a little deeper.
She arched her back so he could slip further inside, before realising the position had allowed her as much of him as her body could take. Boldly, Trudy pulled away from him and allowed his hardness to slip from between her legs.
He considered her with an arched eyebrow.
She placed her hands on his shoulders and encouraged him to help her sit on the kitchen counter.
This time when he slid into her, she was able to wrap her arms around him and kiss his face. The intimacy was so much more satisfying that she almost came from being able to see his smile whilst he was inside her.
The kitchen counter could have been measured for just this activity.
His hands were on her hips. He was straddled between her parted thighs. His erection was buried deep into her wetness.
She had her ankles crossed behind the small of his back. Her nails raked at his shoulder blades. Her kisses devoured his face.
She listened to the mechanical squelch of his length gliding into her sex. The movement rekindled the scent of their shared arousal – a powerful bouquet that was animal and exotic in its potency.
He moved into her with a powerful and urgent rhythm. It was not, she thought, rushed. But it was far from unhurried. Not that Trudy was complaining about the tempo of their passion. Her body was blessed with a greedy need for the satisfaction that she knew he could bestow and she inwardly urged him to go more swiftly and take her to the pinnacle of pleasure that she needed to reach.
‘Do you really have no intention of punishing me?’
She gasped the words between mounting sobs of passion. Her heartbeat trembled at a heightened pace. Her respiration was weak and faltering as she neared her climax.
‘You’re really not going to punish me?’
‘I have no intention of disciplining you without good reason.’
‘But I thought I was your spankmaid. I thought I was meant to be punished.’
He chuckled softly.
‘You are my spankmaid,’ he agreed. ‘But I’m going to be away from you for a fortnight. The last thing I want to take away with me from when we were last together is the memory of having punished you for no good reason.’
The sentiment was enough to take her to the brink of orgasm.
‘It will be far more satisfying for me,’ he went on, ‘to punish you when I return.’ He said the words as he pushed more forcefully into her sex.
The orgasm was instantaneous and devastating.
‘As soon as I get back,’ he told her, ‘I’ll catalogue all your mistakes and I shall punish you severely for each and every one.’
Trudy screamed and clutched tight at him. Her heels pushed into the small of his back and urged him to buck more firmly between her thighs. Her nails pressed so hard against his shoulders that she cut flesh. Her kisses continued to bruise his lips whilst their tongues battled together.
His climax pulsed into her.
She barely felt it as her own explosion of pleasure racked her frame.
The satisfaction was delicious, she thought, because it seemed to complete her need for him. It was fulfilling. It was wholesome. And it offered the prospect of further kink when they were next together.
Gallantly, he helped her down from the kitchen counter.
She collected his bathrobe from the floor and followed him into the bathroom as he showered. Then she watched him dress, all the time savouring those pleasurable memories that continued to ripple through her body as she savoured the bliss they had just shared.
‘How long before you need to set off?’
‘I’m going now,’ he said. ‘There should be a taxi waiting at the front of Boui-Boui.’
She blinked and tried not to show her surprise. There must have been something written on her face because his smile was reassuring.
‘Naomi said she’d order one,’ he explained. ‘She’s keen to get me started on exploiting this current bout of publicity.’
‘I thought we’d have a little time to chat about something before you left.’
He glanced at his watch and then shrugged on a jacket. He had been getting dressed as they spoke. The jacket was as much as he needed to complete his outfit.
‘If there was something you wanted to discuss, we’d best make it quick.’
‘Charlotte wants me to work with Sweet Temptation.’
He drew a breath. ‘I thought I made my opinions on this clear last night?’
‘You put your foot down and refused to discuss it last night,’ Trudy told him. ‘That’s not making your opinions clear. That’s refusing to discuss things. I’d hoped we could discuss it now, this morning, like rational adults.’
He turned and walked down the stairs and into the hallway.
She watched him open the door and then reach for his suitcases.
‘I’ve said as much as I’m going to say on this matter,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘The choice is all yours. You can either work at Boui-Boui or you can go
back to Sweet Temptation. You can’t do both.’
Then she was listening to the slam of the front door as it rattled inside the jamb. Bitterly, she realised Hart had said his last word on the subject.
Chapter 34
A part of her wanted to run to the door and call after him. It was impossible to think that they could face the prospect of a fortnight apart when the last words they had spoken were angry ones. Trudy pictured herself standing on the step, half-naked in Bill’s flimsy robe whilst she suffered the smirking appraisal of a leering cabbie.
The mental image was strong enough to make her hesitate.
Outside she heard the sound of a car door slamming hard.
She flinched.
She heard the growl of the engine and then listened as gravel spat beneath the vehicle’s tyres. She didn’t need to go to the step to see the scene. It was easy enough to visualise what had happened without putting her head out of the door. Bill was in a cab and it was driving away.
It was too late.
Whatever it was she had hoped she could say to him, the time was now past.
Angrily she stormed back to the kitchen. She flicked the espresso machine on and took comfort from the deafening noise of it building to a head of steam. Just as she took comfort from the sounds of power ballads when she was out running, she felt she could take comfort from the noise of his kitchen.
Her head was hung low. The world was filled only with the sound of the building steam. Glumly, she prepared her drink and then sat heavily in one of the breakfast bar chairs. When she looked up she saw Bill was standing in the kitchen doorway.
‘We should talk,’ he said.
She nodded. She immediately understood that he had told the taxi to go. Her heartbeat quickened as she realised he was gallantly changing his plans to suit her. His thoughtfulness gave her hope that he might be committed to their relationship.
‘We do need to talk,’ she agreed. ‘But, before we do that, I want to be punished for causing you so much upset.’
He raised a sceptical eyebrow.
‘Is that the only reason you want to be punished?’
She tried not to smirk. ‘It’s the only reason I’ll admit to right now.’
He considered this and then nodded.
‘Bend over, spankmaid,’ he growled. ‘I shouldn’t even have tried to leave here without giving your backside the tanning it needed.’
Her stomach muscles tightened. She had enjoyed making love to him before. But she had needed to hear his gruff voice promising pain and punishment. Instinctively, she went to the kitchen counter and bent over in the familiar position.
Outside the window she watched a handful of black rock chickens clucking in their runs. Smoke trailed from the chimney of Aliceon’s distant cottage. Ripples on the carp pond jumbled the silvery reflection of an impending glorious day. It was the same idyllic rural scene with which she was now very familiar.
Eager to feel his discipline, Trudy held her backside high in the air for him.
She could picture her sex, pouting still from the excitement of their lovemaking, and pushing out from between her clenched buttocks as though it yearned for his touch. Her arousal became wetter as she studied the view through the window. She realised it was now impossible to stare out at this scene without being stung by a rush of fluid heat in her loins. From the corner of her eye she saw Hart retrieve a wooden spatula from the kitchen drawer.
Her inner muscles clenched.
When he trailed a lazy hand over the mound of one cheek she came close to climaxing. His knuckles grazed against the moist lips of her sex. His touch, so light when she was braced to suffer the most extreme of sensations, was a maddening spark to her responses. Trudy held her breath and willed her body not to explode under such a casual caress.
Then he struck her with the spatula.
The blow was sharp. Even though it was all she had hoped for and wanted, it was still unexpected. She caught a breath, held it and savoured the blossoming heat that spread through her buttock.
He landed another blow to the same spot.
Trudy squirmed beneath his discipline and wallowed in the heat as it began to grow more intense. She had thought that the sex was good before. In its way, she knew, it had been a satisfying experience. But this was a richer and more fulfilling encounter.
This was what her body had been craving.
He landed two dozen blows to her backside.
She supposed there was an even distribution, with probably twelve to each cheek. In truth, she was so caught up with the experience that she didn’t have time to count the blows. She was too busy savouring the superb rush of exhilaration that came from each impact.
The heat grew swiftly.
She could feel her cheeks reddening as though they had been warmed at a fireside. The heat spread to her sex and, although it had only been a few minutes since they enjoyed a satisfying climax together, Trudy ached for the release of another orgasm.
When she dared to move her hand away from the kitchen countertop, intending to slip her fingers onto her sex, Hart casually rapped the spatula on her knuckles.
‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘You’re not doing that. You’re just being punished.’
The words were almost enough to have Trudy exploding with joy. She put her hand back on the countertop and trembled on the precipice of an unattainable orgasm. Her cheeks were flushed with heat. Her sex tingled with a renewed need for him. The urgency of her desire was so raw and desperate it bordered on being an agony. But she knew Hart wasn’t going to let her have the release she craved. They had important things to discuss.
‘Thank you,’ she said honestly as she stood away from the counter and kissed him.
He nodded and placed the spatula on the countertop. ‘Thank you,’ he returned. ‘I hadn’t realised how much I needed to do that.’
She knew, if she touched herself in this moment, the orgasm would flood through her body. It took every morsel of personal restraint to stop herself from pressing two fingers against the moist centre of her need. Instead, savouring the restraint, and relishing the heat that smouldered in her buttocks, she wrapped the robe tight around her slender frame and met his gaze.
‘Will you please reconsider your decision about my working for Sweet Temptation?’
He shook his head.
‘I don’t have an issue with you working for Sweet Temptation. Being honest I think Sweet Temptation is a superb idea and, with you leading their kitchens, I know they won’t go far wrong.’
She frowned, puzzled. ‘Then, if you agree that it’s a good idea, what’s your –’
‘It’s Donny.’
‘Donny?’
‘It will sound petty but I have some personal reasons to despise him.’
‘Do you have time to tell me before you leave?’
‘We’ll make time.’
He flicked the switch on the espresso machine before sitting down. Trudy got fresh cups. It was a scene of domestic bliss, she thought absently. They had quickly become a committed couple, casually enjoying drinks and a conversation in the comfort of a cottage kitchen. If there was one thing she was going to miss as much as the satisfaction of the sex they shared, Trudy knew it was going to be the civility of this easy domestic arrangement.
‘A little more than a year ago I used to employ a waitress here at Boui-Boui. She was hardworking, bright and fun to be around.’
Trudy suppressed a flicker of jealousy. She tightened the cord on the robe and prepared the espressos beneath the machine. When she sat down to face him she saw that the lines on his features cut particularly deep as he continued. This was clearly a story that was painful to relate.
‘The only problem with the waitress was that she was naïve. Consequently, when I employed Donny as a commis chef, it took him less than a month to get her knocked up.’
Trudy winced.
She remembered Donny being secretive about a year ago. He had claimed to have a prestigious new job that he wo
uldn’t talk about. All he could say was that it would look great on his CV. She seemed to remember that he had boasted the position had some other benefits but she had thought nothing to the comments at the time. Now she was beginning to understand what had happened.
‘It was definitely Donny?’
Bill nodded. ‘It was definitely him.’
She didn’t doubt that Bill was telling the truth.
Before their difference of opinions, Donny had been her friend for a long time but Trudy knew he had many faults. He had no morals where sex was concerned. And he had no sense of obligation or responsibility.
Once, Trudy supposed, she might have argued that the waitress had an equal duty to take appropriate precautions during sex. But she knew that Donny didn’t mind taking advantage of the weak, the naïve and the vulnerable.
She thought about Charlotte and realised Donny seemed to thrive on taking advantage of the naïve and vulnerable.
‘Donny refused to do the right thing,’ Bill continued.
He was studying the countertop, his frown more bitter than angry.
‘The waitress left before I could promise her that I would make everything all right. I wanted to let her know that I didn’t think she was to blame. I wanted to tell her that I’d do everything in my power to make her situation right.’
Trudy chewed her lower lip, sure there was more to this story than Bill was telling her. It seemed odd that he would be so concerned for a single naïve waitress. Even though she understood the gallantry of his intentions it still seemed excessive for a world-class chef with his commitments to feel responsible for a single, unworldly waitress.
‘How much help would you have offered this waitress?’
‘As much as she needed,’ Bill said quietly. ‘She was my daughter.’
Chapter 35
It took a week for Trudy to organise the necessary presentation at the Hadfield Hotel.
If nothing else had come from this experience, she thought, at least she’d learnt to feel comfortable organising presentations and giving demonstrations in front of investors. She wasn’t sure it was a life skill she had needed to develop, but she knew the talent would never leave her now it was part of her repertoire.
A Taste of Passion Page 23
