Just Desserts (Sweet Temptation, Book 3)

by Ashley Lister

  ‘Thank you, Ms McLaughlin. Your obedience is always stimulating.’

  Her blushes deepened. She glanced at the bulging front of his pants and saw that he had indeed found her obedience very stimulating. It took all her restraint not to reach out and touch the shape of his hardness through the fabric of his trousers. It was only because she feared it might endanger his driving that she kept her hands folded in her lap.

  ‘What do you expect me to do now, Mr Hart?’

  ‘Close your eyes.’

  She did as he asked without hesitation.

  The light drone of the car continued around them. She could feel herself sinking comfortably into the plush seat of the car. She was aware of the day’s warm dusk on her face.

  To her side she heard the whisper-soft buzz of the electric window sliding down. A light breeze caressed her cheek. She could hear the hiss and throb of passing scenery and wondered why he had opened her window.

  ‘Toss the panties out of the window.’

  She swallowed and wondered if she dared to refuse the command.

  ‘Toss them out now, Ms McLaughlin.’

  She considered saying no, telling him that the game was already too bold for her tastes and she wasn’t comfortable with the idea of being publicly exposed. Her heartbeat was skipping faster. Her stomach was tightening into knots of anticipatory discomfort. She wondered how he would respond if she refused his command.

  Then, before she could properly entertain that idea, she tossed the fistful of flimsy cotton out of the car window.

  Bill laughed. It was not an unpleasant sound. It was the sound of heartfelt mirth, underscored by obvious arousal.

  Trudy found herself smiling for him.

  Then she felt his hand on her thigh.

  She stiffened. The smile on her lips froze.

  ‘Keep your eyes closed,’ Bill warned.

  ‘But –’ She wanted to ask if he needed both hands to drive the vehicle safely, or if they shouldn’t postpone this game until they were somewhere safer and less conducive to public indecency charges or some calamitous traffic accident.

  ‘Keep them closed,’ Bill insisted.

  ‘Yes, Mr Hart.’

  The hand on her thigh pushed back the hem of her skirt.

  She knew that she wasn’t properly exposed. Her knees were well below the level of the dashboard. There was no chance of anyone seeing below her chest, unless it was a voyeur leering over the vehicle. And Trudy felt sure Bill wouldn’t allow her to be exposed in such a way.

  ‘Yes, Mr Hart,’ she repeated.

  This time the words sounded more confident. Trudy clenched her thighs together at the idea of someone driving past in a tall vehicle. She knew it would only take a bus, a coach or a lorry driving past and someone might see the intimate game they were playing together. She chewed hard on her lower lip, willing herself not to tell him that she no longer wanted to risk this danger.

  ‘Spread your legs, Ms McLaughlin.’

  She groaned. She wanted to protest. But she did as he asked.

  Battling against her own desire to keep the secrets of her sex concealed, and squeezing her eyes tightly closed for fear she would see where they were and never again be able to look on this stretch of road without thinking about this excruciating moment, Trudy did as he asked and eased her thighs slowly apart.

  Her hands had been in her lap.

  Now she placed them at the top of her bare thighs and clutched herself firmly.

  Bill’s hand brushed against her fingers. Because he was approaching her from an unfamiliar position his touch felt different and slightly awkward. But he still touched her with the confidence of a man who knew he had mastery over her body.

  She could feel the fingers slipping smoothly upwards toward the centre of her sex. His touch was light and intuitive of her needs. When his fingers slipped into the folds of her labia, teasing the sensitive flesh, she choked back a sigh of gratitude.

  ‘Please tell me that there’s no one around who can see this,’ she begged.

  ‘I can tell you that if that’s what you want to hear, Ms McLaughlin.’

  Her heartbeat had been fast before. Now it raced. Did his cryptic response mean that there was someone watching them? Or was he only saying that to tease her and try to make her feel more tormented by anxiety?

  ‘Please, Mr Hart,’ she persisted. ‘Tell me that there’s no one around who can see this.’

  She heard his soft chuckle of approval. ‘Thank you, Ms McLaughlin.’ His fingers squeezed her thigh with a firm, reassuring grip. ‘Let me assure you that there’s no one around who can see this. Our indiscretions are completely unobserved.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I’m sure,’ he promised.

  She was about to sigh with relief when she heard him add, ‘At least, I’m sure for the moment.’

  His fingertip traced back and forth over the pouting lips of her labia. She could feel herself growing wetter in response to his touch. Her excitement became more intense and she allowed herself to be won over by the thrill of what they were doing. When he finally slipped a finger into her wetness she moaned.

  She wasn’t sure how safe it was for him to be driving with one hand. She wasn’t sure it was safe for him to be driving at all while his concentration was diverted by pleasuring her. But she did know that the pleasure was absolutely divine.

  The tip of his finger brushed easily in and out of her sex.

  She wasn’t sure why the sensation seemed so profoundly exciting but, in that moment, she knew she was already close to a climax. She didn’t bother trying to hold her breath or savour the experience. She simply basked in the mounting pleasure of having his finger tease her to a climax.

  ‘Tell me how that feels, Ms McLaughlin.’

  ‘It feels wonderful, Mr Hart.’

  ‘How long do you think you can cope with this sensation?’

  ‘As long as you want it to continue,’ she assured him.

  He laughed good-naturedly. She could feel the tremor of his mirth rippling down to the tips of his fingers. The sensation was so exciting and intense she almost climaxed on the spot. She knew she was not far away from clenching her muscles around his finger and screaming with the sultry sweet satisfaction of a thrilling orgasm.

  ‘Are you sure you want it to go on that long?’ he asked.

  ‘As long as you want,’ she repeated.

  ‘I’m glad to hear you say that,’ he said. ‘Because I’ve just taken us on to the motorway and I’ll be driving us down to the studio this evening.’

  She kept her eyes closed, not sure whether this was another part of his teasing or whether she did have an enjoyable hour or so to enjoy Bill’s finger on her sex and his desire to tease her to a state of orgasmic satisfaction.

  Whether it was so or not, Trudy was happy to settle deeper into the seat, thrill to the pleasure he inspired and look forward to the night ahead with him.

  16

  She looked out into the auditorium and saw that the audience was already flooding into the studio. Some of them were friends or relatives of the show’s current contestants. Others were simply fans of Master Baker, anxious to see the live version of a favourite TV show. There were others, a small number, who looked as though they had been grudgingly dragged along. But the majority seemed to be cheerful and excited at the prospect of seeing the show being made.

  Trudy smiled.

  She liked working on Master Baker. It was exciting to be a part of something that was popular and entertained so many people. In the great scheme of things, Trudy knew that the TV show was not particularly edifying. Bill said it was what Frank Lloyd Wright would have called ‘chewing gum for the eyes’. Trudy didn’t know who Frank Lloyd Wright was, but she figured the cutting sentiment was an accurate description of the show’s content. However, so long as she was having fun in the making of Master Baker, she figured it didn’t matter whether it was educational or simply a light-hearted diversion.

  Her mobil
e vibrated in her pocket.

  Since she’d started working in the studio it had become her habit to put the phone on its vibrate setting as soon as she was finished in her dressing room. A couple of the other judges, and several members of the production team, had been caught with the embarrassment of having their phones ring whilst they were filming. Such interruptions usually meant a section of the show had to be rerecorded or sometimes abandoned. So that she didn’t cause such an embarrassment, Trudy made sure her phone was unlikely to ring during a critical moment.

  She answered the call on the third buzz.

  ‘Are you OK?’ It was Daryl. She sounded concerned. ‘Where the hell are you?’

  ‘Of course I’m OK. I’m in the studio. What’s wrong?’

  ‘You didn’t come back to Eldorado.’

  Trudy hesitated. She immediately understood her friend’s concern. A guilty blush coloured her cheeks and she apologised profusely. ‘Bill gave me a lift,’ she explained. ‘I didn’t even think to call and explain what was happening. We just –’

  She stopped herself and apologised again.

  Trudy had enjoyed travelling down to the studio with Bill. He had teased her to a state of climax and she had savoured the pleasure. Afterwards they had chatted and it had been easy to forget all about the past few months of upheaval and distress that their relationship had suffered. She saw now that it had also been easy to forget to tell Daryl about the change to her plans.

  Laughter in the auditorium caught her attention. It was a harsh sound, bereft of humour or amusement and edged with a wicked note. For some reason Trudy thought it unnervingly familiar.

  She glanced in the direction of the mirth and was irritated to see that Victor, the Smurf as Bill had called him, was talking with one of the audience members. Victor was dressed in chef’s whites for the show, as were all contestants. He wore a badge on his breast to show that he was in the strawberry team.

  Trudy tried not to scowl when she saw him.

  Victor wasn’t looking in her direction. He seemed immersed in his conversation with the audience member. Trudy tried to see who he was talking to and her stomach folded in dismay.

  She couldn’t be certain. The lights in the studio were positioned so the audience were in shadow. But the silhouette of Victor’s companion looked horribly familiar. There was something about his posture and shoulders that made Trudy sure it was Donny. She couldn’t see him properly but she felt certain it couldn’t be anyone else.

  She stiffened and wondered if she should raise an alarm. The only thing stopping her was the unsettling knowledge that there was no one to tell. She had previously told the producer about the potential danger the Smurf presented and on that occasion her warning had been treated with scepticism and ignored. There was no one else on the set whom she could think to tell. If she told Bill, Trudy knew that he would cause a scene and demand that Donny be removed from the premises. If the production team refused to do that for him, Trudy knew Bill would personally remove Donny from the auditorium, unmindful of the consequences.

  ‘Trudy?’ Daryl’s voice barked in her ear. ‘Are you still there?’

  Trudy shook her head to clear her thoughts. ‘I’m sorry,’ she began. Returning to their conversation, she said, ‘I should have called and explained what was happening. It was rude and inconsiderate of me not to do that.’

  Daryl brushed the apologies aside. ‘It must have been uncomfortable riding with Bill. What did you two talk about?’

  Trudy’s blushes deepened.

  ‘It wasn’t that bad,’ she admitted. She was relieved this was a phone call rather than a face-to-face conversation. If they had been face to face Daryl would have been able to read every shameful secret colouring her thoughts. ‘We put our differences aside,’ she said quietly. ‘Bill can be quite pleasurable company.’

  ‘Pleasurable? That’s an odd word choice.’

  Trudy wondered how she was meant to respond. Was she supposed to argue that she hadn’t meant pleasurable in the sense of the journey being sexually satisfying? If she said that, even though it was a denial, she knew she might as well admit to Daryl what she and Bill had done on the journey.

  Before Trudy could think of what to say, Daryl asked, ‘How did Charlotte’s wedding meeting go?’

  ‘Charlotte has got some very definite ideas about what she wants happening at the wedding.’

  ‘Is that your tactful way of saying she’s running it like Hitler?’

  ‘In every way except for growing a moustache.’

  They chuckled together and, although the humour was at Charlotte’s expense, Trudy knew neither of them meant the comments maliciously.

  ‘She doesn’t want you to organise a stripper.’

  ‘Cool. If she’s got the stripper covered than that won’t be a problem.’

  Trudy frowned and tried to work out what had been misunderstood in the exchange. ‘No,’ she said softly. ‘Charlotte’s not organising a stripper. She doesn’t want a stripper. She specifically asked for you not to organise a stripper.’

  There was a moment’s silence on the other end of the line before Trudy heard Daryl release a cautious sigh. ‘OK,’ she agreed. ‘I won’t organise a stripper.’

  Trudy knew Daryl was hedging her way around an agreement, phrasing her answer so she could ignore Charlotte’s instruction. And, while she knew she could have tried to work out what Daryl was planning, Trudy knew there were more important things deserving her attention.

  ‘I’m sorry I’m not at the studio with you tonight,’ Daryl said suddenly.

  Trudy winced. When Bill started to drive them down to the studio she had forgotten that Daryl usually came with her on the journey. She felt angry at herself for not thinking of her friend and she racked her brains to find a way of making amends.

  ‘I didn’t think to call you,’ she confessed. ‘But I will bring you a slice of the winning desserts from tonight’s episode.’

  ‘If it’s the gingerbread special I want two slices of the winning dessert.’

  Trudy laughed and said she would see what she could do. Hearing a parody of her laughter from the auditorium, that same sinister laughter she had heard before, she felt her smile fade. She lowered her voice to a confidential whisper and said, ‘Being honest, I think you’re better off not being here tonight. I’m not positive but I think I’ve seen Donny in the audience.’

  ‘What the hell’s that bastard doing there?’

  ‘He’s chatting with one of the contestants, Victor. The one Bill always calls the Smurf.’

  ‘Donny and the Smurf are there?’

  ‘I think it’s Donny. It sounded like his laugh. The shape of him, the bits I can see despite the studio lights: it looks like Donny. I’d have a better idea if I could see –’

  ‘I don’t like the sound of this,’ Daryl warned. ‘Wasn’t the Smurf the one that tried to stab Bill?

  ‘Yes,’ Trudy remembered. ‘But Bill disarmed him fairly quickly.’ Her smile faded as she recalled that Bill had ended up spending a night in the cells because of the Smurf and Donny. ‘It turned out that Donny had put him up to that attempted stabbing. Did I ever tell you that?’

  ‘I’m not happy about this.’ Daryl sounded solemn. ‘Does it look like they’re planning something?’

  Trudy peered out at where the two men had been. The Smurf now had his back to the figure he’d been talking with. Trudy was no longer even sure it was Donny. ‘I’m probably just imagining things,’ she said. ‘I can’t see the point in making a big fuss.’

  ‘Go and tell someone what you’ve seen,’ Daryl insisted.

  Trudy sighed. ‘There’d be no point.’

  She remembered the text message she had received from Donny: Can’t wait to see you on the set of Master Baker tonight. Was it possible he was planning something? Daryl’s warnings sounded melodramatic and over-the-top but Trudy knew it would be foolish to ignore a potential threat.

  ‘I’m serious,’ Daryl said. ‘Go and tell someo
ne.’

  ‘Should I go and tell Bill?’

  ‘Interesting choice,’ Daryl said cryptically. ‘Why would you turn to him first?’

  Her cheeks had been pink before. Now they burned scarlet. ‘I’ll talk to you later,’ Trudy said sourly.

  Daryl wished her fun with the recording and told her she needed to raise her concerns about Donny and the Smurf with someone in the studio. Then the connection was severed and Trudy realised she needed to act.

  She took a moment to consider the audience once more.

  She still couldn’t make out the identity of the stranger she had thought was Donny, but the laughter had sounded like his. Grudgingly, she decided she should go and tell Bill what she’d seen. Ife’s chjatrting H

  I anyone deserved to know that Donny was present, she figured, it was Bill. Donny had tried to get the Smurf to stab Bill. Donny had broken into Bill’s home. Over the past few months Donny had seemed to make his life a vendetta against Bill. Even if knowing that Donny was in the audience would worry Bill, he had a right to know.

  She hurried off to find him in his dressing room.

  17

  Bill was on the phone to Harvey when Trudy entered his dressing room. She’d knocked twice and then, when he’d opened the door and motioned for her to join him, she’d stepped discreetly inside. Bill grinned at her and gestured for her to take one of the chairs while he continued to talk to his agent.

  It was a spacious dressing room. One wall was given over to a row of illuminated mirrors. The rest of the room was pleasantly furnished in an understated fashion with comfortable chairs and a practical desk. The layout was exactly the same as her own dressing room and reminded Trudy of all the motels they had visited for their discreet trysts. All this location was missing was a large, comfortable bed and a bottle of whisky. She tried to shut that thought out of her mind before it could excite her.

  Maddeningly, though, she couldn’t clear her head of salacious thoughts.

  ‘What do you mean, you don’t want strippers on the stag do?’ Bill demanded. ‘If there are no strippers, I might not bother going myself.’