‘I know the owner,’ she said flatly. ‘He’ll be expecting me.’
The cab dropped her outside the restaurant and Trudy could see that Aliceon was on guard as maître d’ at the front door. Rather than be waylaid and having to chat with Bill’s current wife, Trudy hurried round to the back of the building. She walked past a couple of commis chefs she didn’t recognise. It was a poignant reminder that she had been away from the restaurant long enough for Bill to have employed new staff that she didn’t know. She wondered if she really was no longer a part of his life.
The two chefs were standing outside the kitchen’s emergency exit, sharing a hand-rolled cigarette and guiltily passing it back and forth. Neither of them made an attempt to stop her entering Boui-Boui.
It was an easy matter for her to walk through the bustle and clatter of the kitchen to the head chef’s office. Bill was already there. His cheeks were flushed. His brow was furrowed. She thought he looked irresistible.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he asked.
She thought of saying that she was wondering the same thing herself. She had climbed into the cab without thinking. She had asked to be taken to Boui-Boui without letting herself consider why she was going there or what she intended doing when she arrived. But, instead of admitting her own doubts, she said, ‘What do you think I’m doing here?’
He took her in his embrace and they kissed.
This was not the chaste and friendly peck on the cheek she had enjoyed with Mark. This was the passionate exploration of mouths with tongues that reminded her she was in the arms of a lover. This was an embrace made real by the thrill of his hands caressing her body through the flimsy covering of her jeans and T-shirt. This was an embrace that left her breathless with a rising need for satisfaction.
When he broke the kiss, stepping away from her, he asked again, ‘What do you want, Ms McLaughlin?’
‘What do you think I want, Mr Hart?’
She spoke his name breathily, provocatively.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Last night, I thought you said…’
She didn’t let him finish. ‘Last night we started something we didn’t get to finish. It’s bad enough that Donny keeps trying to cause so much upset and embarrassment in our lives. We shouldn’t be letting him spoil the few good things that we do enjoy together.’
Bill considered this for a moment before nodding. ‘What are you proposing?’
She fixed him with a sly smile. ‘I think you might have guessed what I’m proposing. I’ll just wait here quietly until you’ve closed the restaurant and locked the doors behind the last of your staff.’
His smile was broad enough to crease the corners of his eyes. He checked his wristwatch and said, ‘I’ll be another half-hour before I’m finished. Can I get you anything while you’re waiting?’
She started to shake her head then stopped. ‘You could tell me why I had to hear about you being on Master Baker from the news.’
His smile softened to a defensive scowl. ‘Harvey shared that with me this morning. I’ve been trying to reach you all day to let you know. Is there something wrong with your phone?’
She opened her mouth to reply and then blushed and lowered her gaze.
Bill seemed to read her guilt from her expression. ‘For chuff’s sake,’ he complained good-naturedly. ‘Has no one ever told you that you’re supposed to keep the bloody phone with you if you want to receive calls?’
‘I’ve got the phone with me,’ she said, trying to make her indignation sound righteous. The justified haughtiness of her tone was undermined as she added, ‘It’s just not switched on.’
He shook his head. The movement made his smile soften. ‘I’ve got to make sure everything’s going properly out there.’ He nodded toward the kitchen. ‘Are you OK to make yourself comfortable here and entertain yourself for half an hour whilst I finish up?’
She considered him for a moment. ‘Do you still have a bottle of Chivas Regal in your desk drawer?’
‘Yes.’
She nodded. ‘In that case I’m OK to entertain myself here for half an hour.’
He found a clean highball glass on the shelf behind his desk, passed it to her and promised he would return as soon as he was able. Then Trudy was left alone with the sharp taste of the whisky and the nuisance of not knowing whether she wanted to be at Boui-Boui waiting for Bill to finish for the evening or if she would have been happier returning to her solitary bed at Eldorado.
It was painful to be back in the Michelin-starred kitchen.
In this office she and Bill had spent many intimate and satisfying nights. The first time they’d made love had been on the couch in this room. It had been a vanilla experience compared to some of the passions they had explored later in their relationship. But that hadn’t stopped the night being an exciting revelation of pleasure.
She frowned at the memory, wondering how things could have changed so drastically from that first date where he had introduced her to his kitchen and allowed her to make muffins in his pâtisserie. They had shared so many things since that first date that she felt treacherous and unworthy for harbouring some of the thoughts that were now running through her head.
She was thinking of finishing her whisky and then running out of the restaurant to make her way back to Eldorado. She could leave him a note, a brief apology for showing up, followed by a sincere promise that she would never make that mistake again. The idea was so compelling that she began to glance around his office, looking for notepaper and a pen. And then she stopped herself, knowing that she didn’t really want to leave.
Bill appeared in the doorway.
‘The staff have left,’ he said. ‘And there’s a pair of steaks waiting for us on table thirteen.’
‘Steaks?’ This was a surprise. But it was not unwelcome. She hadn’t been in the mood for the pizza she had ordered with Mark. By the time it had arrived her appetite had dwindled to nothing. Yet now, back in Boui-Boui and standing within kissing distance of Bill, she realised all her appetites had returned with greedy ferocity. Her hunger for food was only one of them.
‘Boned and rolled sirloin,’ he told her. ‘I’ve done it the way you like it.’
She smiled with gratitude, picked up the bottle of whisky and followed him through to the deserted restaurant. Light jazz poured from discreet speakers. The music was undemanding and easy on the ear. The room still held the faint tang of the million or more scintillating flavours that had been served throughout the evening. Over the top of those exciting scents she could smell the rich, beefy fragrance of the steaks he had prepared. When she saw the candlelit table waiting for them her hunger sharpened.
‘Have you spoken with Harvey or Charlotte today?’ he asked as they began to eat.
She shook her head.
‘They’ve called a wedding meeting for tomorrow lunchtime.’
‘What the hell’s a wedding meeting?’
He shrugged. ‘We’ll find out tomorrow. The meeting is at your Sweet Temptation offices.’
Trudy said nothing. She hadn’t been told about the ‘wedding meeting’ but she suspected, when she finally got around to the messages on her phone, there would be instructions from Charlotte saying when she should attend and what would be expected of her. She chewed her steak, savouring the flavour, and tried to find a way of telling him that she didn’t want to talk about weddings.
She glanced up to see he was studying her.
‘It’s good to see you back here,’ he said softly. ‘This place isn’t the same without you.’
She held up a forkful of steak and said, ‘Lots of things here are the same. The steak’s the same. It’s even my recipe.’
He shook his head righteously. ‘It’s not quite the same. I’ve been trying to improve on it. Can’t you taste the smoked paprika?’
She sampled a small piece and considered the flavours thoughtfully. She caught the smoky spice of the paprika and smiled. ‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘That is an improvement.’
>
‘Why did you come here this evening?’
She held his gaze. ‘We didn’t get to finish what we’d started last night.’ She didn’t mention Donny. There was no need to spoil the mood of the moment by voicing his name. She didn’t mention the inconvenience of Bill’s marriage to Aliceon, or the way the news had been delivered as such a brutal surprise. She simply said, ‘It was going so well. I wanted to finish what we’d started properly.’
He sipped a little of his Chivas Regal and nodded.
‘It was going well,’ he agreed. ‘But I’m sure it could have been going better.’
Trudy arched an eyebrow. ‘How?’
‘I could have had your hands tied behind your back.’
His words sent a surge of raw arousal pulsing through her sex. She stared at him, her eyes wide with interest and her excitement more powerful than her hunger. It took an effort of willpower not to push the plate away and demand he take her across the table. In a measured voice she said, ‘You’d want to have me with my hands tied behind my back, Mr Hart?’
‘It would make for a pleasant start, Ms McLaughlin.’
She forced herself to cut another small slice of steak and eat it before responding. The flavours were an intense rush of the familiar whisky marinade she had made for him with the addition of the smoky tang of his paprika. She focused on those tastes rather than letting him see that his words were having a profound effect on her arousal.
‘A start, Mr Hart? What would you want to do once you had my hands tied behind my back?’
He hid his grin behind his drink. ‘Once I have your hands bound I’d like to give you the punishment you crave right now.’
She snorted indignantly. ‘What makes you think I’m craving punishment?’
‘Your leaving your mobile switched off when you know that people who care about you will be trying to get in touch. Don’t you think actions like that deserve some form of punishment, Ms McLaughlin?’
Her cheeks flushed. She was thinking of how pleasurable it would be to have her hands secured behind her back while Bill landed the flat of his hand against her bare backside. In her imagination she could hear the stinging slap and feel the rich warmth that would rise from beneath her punished skin. The prospect made the inner muscles of her sex clench and clutch with tremors of mounting excitement.
‘I suppose it was remiss of me to leave my phone switched off,’ she admitted. ‘But I was at the cinema and –’
He waved her silent. ‘There’s no need to explain. I’ll just expect a full and sincere apology when I’ve finished reddening the cheeks of your backside.’
Her breath had slowed to laboured panting. The air in the room was difficult to take in. Her nipples stood hard inside her bra and made her uncomfortably aware of the excitement he generated.
‘Where will we do this?’
‘My office in the kitchen has always proved to be comfortable and discreet for us in the past.’
She put down her fork. There was a danger he might see that her hand was trembling. ‘Shall we go there now?’
He glanced at the half-consumed steak on her plate. ‘You’ve not finished your meal.’
She held his gaze. ‘I’m no longer hungry for steak.’
He stood up and extended a hand. ‘In that case,’ he began, ‘would you care to accompany me to the kitchen, Ms McLaughlin?’
She felt as though she was floating by his side as he led her out of the main restaurant and into the privacy of the stark, glossy kitchen. The room held the sterile scent of the cleaning products that had been used to wipe down every surface. The industrial dishwasher rumbled and slushed as a constant drone of background noise. The sound was barely audible beneath the dulcet tones of Ella Fitzgerald singing ‘Taking a Chance on Love’. But Trudy could sense it, reassuring her she was somewhere safe and familiar.
As soon as they were in the office, Bill pulled her hands behind her back. He held her wrists low and together over the swell of her buttocks. Pushing his mouth against her ear he asked, ‘How much punishment do you need, Ms McLaughlin?’
She shivered. ‘I need lots of punishment,’ she murmured.
‘I think I can accommodate that amount.’ She could hear the grin in his voice. ‘I could probably manage a little more, if circumstances demand it from me.’
He moved his mouth from her ear and she heard the familiar sound of him unfastening his belt. She wondered if he was simply going to expose himself and make her kneel before him but then she realised he was removing his belt only to use it as a restraint. He looped it around her wrists and bound her hands with the strip of leather.
Trudy gasped.
She hadn’t expected him to be so innovative with his punishment. When he stepped away from her, her hands were held securely behind her back. She glanced back over her shoulder, unable to contain a rising smile.
‘Mr Hart,’ she breathed. ‘What are you going to do with me?’
He gestured for her to face away from him and prodded her towards the office’s settee. Reaching from behind, he unfastened her jeans and allowed them to fall to her ankles.
She briefly regretted the choice that had made her pick comfort over fashion for her date with Mark. If she had consciously planned to visit Bill this evening she would have worn stockings and heels with a skirt and a thong. She would have picked a top that accentuated her cleavage, rather than a loose-fitting T-shirt that concealed her figure.
But, since Bill was now busy stripping her, Trudy didn’t suppose her casual clothing would be an issue for much longer.
He helped her step out of the jeans.
She stood in only her T-shirt and panties with the weight of his hand resting on her rump. Her heartbeat quickened. The pulse between her legs beat with a slick, powerful haste. Her need for him swelled as she felt his hand draw smoothly across her rear.
‘How many times do I have to tell you to keep your phone with you?’
‘It was with me,’ she protested. ‘It just wasn’t switched on.’
His hand landed heavily against her rear.
There was no pain in the blow but the weight of correction was enough to make her fall immediately silent. She mumbled a truculent apology, remembering at the last moment to call him ‘Mr Hart’.
‘How many times do I have to tell you to keep your phone with you and have it switched on?’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Hart,’ she said earnestly.
‘Sorry isn’t good enough.’
He snatched a small paring knife from his desk.
For an instant Trudy’s heart beat faster and she wondered how he was intending to use the blade. It was only when he drew it against the T-shirt, slicing the fabric open and cutting it away from her, that she realised he wanted unfettered access to her body. She shivered as the cool blade caressed her flesh. He made light work of cutting the fabric away and tossing the ruined garment towards a bin in the corner of the room. She was dressed only in panties and a bra and her hands were bound behind her back.
Her need for him was enormous.
Bill guided her to bend forward. The movement meant her backside was raised high and made exposed and vulnerable for him. When she felt his fingers reach for the waistband of her panties, then slowly draw the fabric down her hips, her excitement grew more intense. She could feel her nipples straining hard inside the confines of her bra. The inner muscles of her sex clenched and clutched with a greedy, fluid anticipation.
He pulled the panties to her ankles and then his bare hand stroked the smooth flesh of her rear. She could feel the tips of his fingers brushing against the light dusting of curls that covered her sex. The sensation was only subtle but it was enough to make her feel suddenly soaked with a rush of wetness.
Trudy wanted to groan.
Then his hand landed on her, hard. The impact came with a sharp smack.
Her cheeks felt reddened by the blow although the discomfort was little more than a mild warming. Her sex throbbed with her growing need for him
. The air in the room almost crackled with the electric anticipation that he inspired. After a moment’s pause, the echo of his palm against her backside still ringing in her ears, he slapped his hand down again.
This time the pain was more severe.
She savoured the intensity.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Hart,’ she assured him. ‘It won’t happen again.’
‘Do you think you’ve been punished enough?’ he asked.
She considered this for a moment and then smiled to herself. ‘Two more slaps to my backside and I’ve probably been punished enough.’
He didn’t hesitate in obliging her. His hand landed harder than before and she could feel that the punishment to her rear was edging close to the dangerous area between pleasure and pain. With the second blow she winced and released a sigh of discomfort.
She wondered if he could see the wetness glistening on her labia.
Before she could even think to ask him, he was holding her hips and pushing himself against her. She had no idea when he’d released his erection from his pants but she could feel the swollen end pressing against the soft, sodden lips of her sex. He thrust into her with one easy, languid motion, and she could feel the surge of pleasure rushing through her body.
‘Mr Hart,’ she murmured.
‘Ms McLaughlin,’ he returned.
His hands felt perfect on her hips. His grip was firm but not uncomfortable. The warmth on her buttocks remained strong enough to make her skin feel sensitive. When he pushed himself deep inside she basked in the sensation of having him in her body.
‘We don’t do this often enough,’ she told him.
He grunted agreement as his length slid in and out with lazy vigour.
The ripple of sensations began to flood through her muscles and she knew, in his unhurried way, he would soon push her to orgasm. She strained her wrists against the belt that held them. She thought she could feel a little give in the leather, but not much. The excitement of being bound for him was another thrill that made her sex clutch greedily around his length.
Just Desserts (Sweet Temptation, Book 3) Page 10
