by Ashe Barker
He nods briefly. “Definitely. I insist. But thanks for the bag, Freya. Saves me a trip.” He winks at me. “And don’t worry about Nick. He’ll be fine. His bite’s much worse than his bark, and these days he reserves all his biting for our little Freya here.” He comes forward, drops a kiss on her forehead. “How are you? The arm?” Freya’s response is to wrap her arms around his waist and hug him. She straightens and steps away to sign her answer.
“I’m fine. Great. Nick too. And Callum.”
She stops, and they both look to me to translate. I do so, but I’m puzzled by the easy friendship which seems to exist between them. I thought Dan was just a passing acquaintance as far as Freya was concerned so I wasn’t expecting all this kissing and hugging.
Freya turns to me, already backing toward the door. “I need to get back. Nick promised to wash my hair. Can’t get the plaster cast wet. And he’s very good with hair…” She waves cheerily as I translate again, and moments later she’s closing the door behind her.
I turn my attention to Dan, who’s now picking up our discarded clothing and tossing it into a pile on the bed. “That looked cozy.”
“Yeah. She’s sweet. Freya and Nick make a great couple. She’s good for him. Shower?”
There’s more. I know it, but Dan’s obviously not about to share. I resolve to ask Freya. Meanwhile, he’s right. I need to start getting ready. I hop out of bed and start to reach for Dan’s discarded shirt, now draped across the duvet, but one imperiously arched eyebrow persuades me to re-think. I settle for sauntering naked across the room. Dan’s amused voice follows me through the door to the en suite.
“Ah, yes. We’ll make a decent sub of you yet, Miss Jones. Starting right after this wedding. Your very pretty bum will be smarting. Now, what did I do with those bloody cuff links?”
I don’t know about smarting, but I see no particular reason to doubt it. Meanwhile, though, my ‘very pretty bum’ is clenching madly in anticipation as I franticly apply myself to arranging Dan’s toothbrush and shaving gear into perfectly aligned order.
* * * *
By the time Dan emerges from his shower, a towel draped precariously around his hips, I’m on my second cup of coffee. Taking a leaf out of Dan’s book, I’ve unpacked my dress for the wedding and hung it alongside his finery on the front of the wardrobe. I bought a posh frock especially for this day, a beautiful calf-length piece of art in a delicate shade of baby blue. The bodice is tight, draped across my breasts in what I sincerely believe is an enticing manner. The cut is clever, designed to enhance my meager endowments. The skirt is a snug fit as well, with a deep split up the back to enable me to walk. It’s a sexy outfit, deliberately so, and given Dan’s plans, I’m starting to wonder about the wisdom of drawing attention to my bottom. But that’s what this dress does. There is really no escaping that fact—draping, caressing, celebrating my curves and offering them up, such as they are.
Oh well, too late to change it now. Even if I was minded to.
“Nice dress.” Dan strolls across the room to the dressing table. He picks up a comb, starts dragging it through his wet hair.
He’s watching me in the mirror as I kneel on the bed, putting the finishing touches with the hairdryer. I switch it off and hold it out to him. “Do you need this?”
“No. Mine’ll dry soon enough on its own.” He tips his head toward my bag, now opened on the bed. “Do you have everything you need?”
“I think so.”
“Do you want this mirror?”
“Yes, please. When you’ve finished, obviously.”
“It’s all yours.” He puts the comb down and opens a drawer. Dragging out a pair of boxer shorts, he proceeds to drop the towel. His erection has subsided, more or less, but he’s still an impressive sight. I’m unashamedly staring as he bends to step into the shorts, and his cock starts to stiffen before my eyes. He slants a glance at me.
“You’re very tempting, Miss Jones. But maybe you should get dressed now. It wouldn’t do to arrive after the bride, would it?”
“I…what? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” Stung into motion, I scramble off the bed, clasping the towel tight across my breasts as I head for the dressing table.
Dan catches me easily around the waist as I make to pass him, pulling me to him. Snuggled up against his naked chest, I’m acutely aware of his hardening cock nudging my stomach.
“There’s no need to be jumpy around me. Or nervous. When we’re in a scene, you’ll know it, but right now I’m joking with you.” He nuzzles my hair, the gesture both calming and intimate. “I don’t usually believe in coincidences, but it really is very, very nice to see you here. Unexpected, but nice. And I’m looking forward to seeing a lot more of you later.” He tips my chin up with his fingertips, kissing me lightly on the lips. “But for now, get your gladrags on.”
I nod quickly then turn back to the dressing table, only to squeal as my towel drops to the floor.
“You won’t be needing that anymore. Now sit, do whatever you need to do, then I’ll zip you into that sexy dress of yours.”
Coming Soon from Totally Bound Publishing:
A Richness of Swallows: Rich Pickings
Ashe Barker
Released 5th September 2014
Excerpt
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 grey 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 grey, 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? Ano
ther 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 travelled 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 bedroo
m, 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 travelling 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?”
