Settling his left hand at the small of her back, by her bound hands, he was astonished that the sight of his wedding ring didn’t stab him with guilt. In this cool, clear moment he felt detached from the life it represented, although he knew that was only a temporary phenomenon, only a fleeting escape.
With his other hand spread, he lay it across her beautiful curves, the rounds of her bottom. Her skin was velvety and warm. Not hot yet, but delightful to the touch. He rubbed her and stroked her for a few moments, exploring the inner slopes, and her thighs, and even dipping round into her sticky cleft. She maintained her poise, but he could feel it was a strain; her body was electric.
‘Are you ready?’ he asked, fingertips just resting against her sex lips, where the honey was pooled. ‘You don’t want to go “Renoir” on me, do you? It’s all right, if you do … I understand.’
Again, he knew he wasn’t acting the classic master, but it didn’t seem to matter. This was their own game, not governed by rules and conventions and ‘scenes’.
‘I’m ready,’ she replied.
There was nervousness in her voice, but a smile there too.
Ready as I’ll ever be.
Jess tried not to tense. Even within the limits of her knowledge, she knew that it would hurt less if she let herself go loose and not tense up.
‘Okay then …’
But almost before he’d spoken, the first slap landed, square on the crown of her left buttock.
‘Jesus Christ!’
It did hurt. It hurt like crazy, even though she’d relaxed, or so she’d thought … Her bottom blazed at the point of impact, as if he’d struck her with a piece of well-seasoned hardwood rather than his hand.
‘No … just me,’ he said, spanking her again on the other cheek, balancing the fire.
‘Ow! Ow! Ow!’ Her body was in shock, everything disconnected, not reacting right.
Or maybe it was? Her desire surged, burning like her bottom, making her crazy. Wriggling like the proverbial eel, she almost fell off Ellis’s knee, not able to tell where pain ended and raging lust began.
Another spank fell, and she squealed, really squealed, her voice high and squeaky.
‘It hurts! It hurts!’
‘Of course it does.’ Ellis fell still. ‘It’s a spanking. That’s the whole point.’ His hand settled more gently across her rear, even the feather-light contact stirring things up and increasing her squiggling and squirming. ‘Do you want me to stop? If you don’t like it …’
‘No! Don’t stop. I don’t know if I like it or not, but it’s turning me on. Give me more!’
It was the truth. The actual truth. The heat in her bottom pulsed out into her pussy too, transubstantiated into gorgeous, gouging need. The spanking pain was insubstantial beside it.
‘Are you sure?’ For a moment he sounded doubtful.
‘Of course I’m sure … why are you even asking me?’ Half laughing, she ground herself against him. ‘You’re the master. Just do what masters do!’
Ellis broke out into laughter too, wickedly squeezing her punished bottom cheek, and making her yelp again. ‘Yes, indeed, I am the master, aren’t I?’ He squeezed the other cheek. ‘From the way you’ve started ordering me around, I was beginning to wonder there …’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I should think so. I’m going to spank you even harder for that, you minx.’
Thank God for that! She didn’t say it. She was too busy grunting and gritting her teeth, as new spanks landed.
The pain was fierce. Red. Fast-spreading, even though Ellis stayed on target like a marksman. Lust bloomed in Jess’s belly, and she flung herself about, working her crotch against him. Yet still he managed to find her bottom every time, stoking the fire with a sweet, unerring accuracy.
Panting, fighting for control, Jess saw a picture of the two of them, on the dark canvas of her mind. Ellis stern yet smiling, his hand descending again and again. Herself bound and blindfolded, clothes half on, half off, her buttocks naked and raggedly crimson.
Hissing at a particularly crafty blow, she was able to smile too.
Against her hip a mighty erection swelled, rock, rock hard.
Sod this!
‘Enough already! Let me up! Let me loose!’
‘Renoir?’
‘Whatever! Renoir! Manet! Monet! Toulouse-Lautrec! I want to see you … You’re beautiful! I want you to fuck me!’
Ellis laughed out loud, but he was already working the knot that bound her hands. The instant Jess was free, she shuffled off his lap and onto her knees beside him on the sofa, cursing through her teeth as she wrenched off the silky scarf too. Awkwardly, she twisted round to look at her bottom. ‘Golly! Talk about flaming crimson …’ She poked her buttock gingerly, and swore again.
‘I thought you wanted to look at me, not your arse,’ pointed out Ellis. When she turned back towards him, he was grinning delightedly.
‘Just checking.’ She lunged at him, almost forgetting her tender bottom, throwing her arms around him and then kissing him hard and messily. She’d never felt more voracious, more filled with lust …
Ellis responded in kind, fighting her in the kiss, tongue pushing back. ‘You devil!’ she growled against his mouth when he cupped the flaming cheeks of her bottom, holding tight.
‘And you, madam, are the bossiest submissive in the world. I don’t think I was ever really in charge there, Ms Lockhart. Not for an instant.’
Perhaps he was … perhaps he wasn’t. Did it matter? He’d spanked her. It’d hurt. But she’d loved it!
And now she wanted him to fuck her. Fuck her hard.
She drew back a little, eating him up with her eyes. He was beautiful. His dark hair was wild, and his expression was too. His face was flushed, the pink across his cheekbones an echo of the cherry glow across her bottom.
‘You are beautiful, Ellis …’ She touched his face, her twinges forgotten.
‘I’m not,’ he said, still smirking.
‘Liar! You know you are!’
‘Okay then, I am, but nowhere near as beautiful as you are …’ He settled his hands on her shoulders. ‘Just look at you. Face of an angel. Breasts of a goddess. Rosy pink bottom of a courageous, stoic heroine. Perfection …’
She knew she wasn’t. Not for him. But now was not the time to visit those issues. Now was the time to snatch pleasure with this wonderful man while she still had access to him.
‘Fuck me, Ellis. You’ve stirred up fires … now do something put them out. Use that great big hose of yours!’
‘So domineering …’ Laughing, Ellis moved in close again, his breath riffling her hair. ‘We shall have to play this game the other way sometime soon …’ He pressed his lips to the side of her face. ‘Like I said before, I’m not much of a submissive … but for you, I’d certainly be prepared to try it.’
Ah, the future again. The land that could not be visited.
‘I’ll look forward to that,’ she said lightly, ‘now, can we please make love?’
Taking the initiative, she slithered off the sofa and onto the rug. It was soft, with a deep, lush pile, but even so, the floor beneath was hard on her tender bottom. She didn’t care though. The aching glow, the twinges as she moved, they only seemed to pour fuel on the conflagration of her need.
‘Isn’t this a bit painful for your bum?’ Ellis slid down beside her; much more gracefully, she noted with wry chagrin. He spread his fingers and slid them down the side of her thigh, skirting the red zone. ‘Would you like to be on top?’
Jess reached for him, pulling him down for another kiss. ‘No, not really … and I don’t care about the pain. What pain? I just want you in me, Mr Sex. Now jump to it!’
Looming over her, Ellis’s face was full of wonder, illuminated, and the expression a thrill in itself. Yes, she had power. Sexual power. A strength that astonished her. How far she’d come in this game, in such short a time. Whatever happened with Ellis, in their very brief future together, she would adore
him forever for showing her how to be herself …
As well as being the man she’d always love.
‘I live to serve,’ he answered puckishly, ripping at the buttons of his shirt, then tugging the garment off and flinging it aside. He prised a condom from the pocket of his jeans, then shimmied out of them too, delighting Jess with the fact he was rampantly commando.
‘No knickers, Mr Sex. What a dirty boy you are!’
‘Why waste time with pants when there’s pussy to be had,’ he shot back, with the condom already out of its package. Within a flash, he had it rolled on, armed and ready for action. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to ride me?’
‘Sure … for now. Maybe later.’ Grabbing at his flank, she urged him over her as she parted her legs, squirming her sizzling bottom against the rug.
Moving between her thighs, Ellis reached down to touch her. ‘Ooh, like silk … Obviously your subconscious likes spanking, even if your conscious isn’t quite sure yet.’ With delicate accuracy, he rolled her clit like a pearl.
‘Ellis! Please!’ cried Jess, feeling orgasm gather, and desperate that he should be inside her when it arrived.
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he complied, using his fingers to position his glans at her entrance, then swinging with his hips to push inside her.
Oh yes, oh yes, would she ever tire of this? The wonder of his possession was as fresh as first time, and the push was still a discovery of her boundaries. Her body was still tight, not virgin but barely explored.
He thrust in deep, pressing her bottom against the rug, making her grunt. Ignoring the new aches, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, arching to press hard into the contact between their bodies.
Growling, Ellis responded in kind, powering into her, in primal shoves, just what she wanted.
It was a wild chaotic ride, pleasure and pain, but mostly pleasure, pleasure, pleasure. A hair away from orgasm to start with, Jess came again and again, soaring and shouting under Ellis’s relentless fucking. With the last scrap of her wits, she knew he was holding back, and determined that he should pinnacle with her, she geed him on, stroking his back and arse and thighs.
‘You devil woman,’ he hissed, ‘you delicious sexy piece of ass, you blow my mind.’
‘Ditto, devil man,’ said Jess on a gasp, then grabbed at Ellis harder, another climax blanking her mind.
As she clung to him on instinct, he spent inside her, shouting her name.
Afterwards they lay in a shattered heap on the rug: Ellis gasping on his back, Jess rolled over onto her front, beside him. Somehow in the melee she’d found the Monet scarf, and had clutched it between her fingers like a talisman.
‘This is beautiful,’ she said, running her thumb over the fine silk, comparing it to the texture of Ellis’s thick, dark hair. ‘How did you come to have it? Did you buy it especially for BDSM games?’
Ellis opened his eyes and glanced at the scarf. ‘No … actually, I noticed it in the window of one of the boutiques down in the atrium, and the water lilies made me think of you, and how you like the Impressionists.’ He reached out and touched the silk, brushing her fingers. ‘I loved the colours, and I thought it’d look great for fastening back your hair … or something. I just thought you’d like it.’
‘I do. It’s lovely. Thank you.’
Emotion choked her. He was such a kind man. It was the simplest of gifts, and yet chosen with genuine thoughtfulness.
They lapsed into silence. Peaceful, but also troubled for Jess.
Oh Ellis, how will I ever let you go?
24
Mm, more champagne.
Obviously Ellis lived slightly more of a billionaire life when in London because there was a new bottle of bubbly chilling in the ice bucket when Jess emerged from the bathroom. One flute stood beside it, and some wine was gone from the bottle.
Where was Ellis?
The spanking game had been a trip but intense. Jess had needed a bit of time out to herself afterwards and, as ever, Ellis had respected her space.
As a dominant, he’d been a revelation, and clearly knew exactly what he was doing. When Jess examined her body, she’d expected to see a mess of ragged redness and bruises covering her bottom, but her rear was surprisingly unscathed. It was still pink, yes, and a bit tender, but nowhere near as sore as she’d anticipated. Especially after a lavish application of another of Ellis’s white label toiletries, an after-exercise rub that Jess suspected contained arnica and other beneficial herbs.
But now that she’d showered and tended to herself, she wanted to tell him she was okay. So where was the man? Somewhere in the apartment drinking champers, obviously. Pouring herself some, Jess took a welcome sip, and looked around the room.
Aw, he’d folded her clothes and laid them across a chair, bless him. He was such a creature of contrasts. An ultra-wealthy man who commanded the destiny of thousands of employees … yet endearingly domesticated. He cooked. He folded clothes. He was a treasure in so many more ways than just fabulous in bed.
On top of the pile was the beautiful silk scarf, and she ran her fingers over it, loving the vibrancy of the colours: multiple blues, lavender and purple. It was exquisite. Ellis could probably quite easily buy a real Monet if one came on the market, but this meant more to her because of the thoughtful way he’d chosen it.
Smoothing the delicate surface she’d ruffled, she set out to find her lover, glass in hand.
Almost immediately, she heard his voice. He was speaking. On the phone? No, there was his mobile on the coffee table in the living area. Had someone arrived while she was showering? She didn’t think so.
Perhaps he was video conferencing? On his laptop. It sounded as if he was out on the patio and, being rather curious, she began moving that way … then hesitated.
None of my business. Probably high finance. Commerce never sleeps and all that. I should just watch the television or get my sketch pad out.
Yet she did neither, and, feeling vaguely guilty at being so nosy, she continued towards the patio. The long glass doors were open, and in the sheltered area the tiles and the furniture were all dry, and the evening air was fresh and perfect after the rain earlier in the day. Remaining out of view behind the blinds, Jess could see Ellis out there, relaxing in one of the lounging chairs with his laptop on his knee. Yes, as she’d suspected, he was conversing with someone on Skype.
Don’t do it, Jess. Don’t do it.
‘I’ve always hoped you and Christobel might get together … eventually … once you’re over Julie.’
It was a woman’s voice, coming from the speaker. Quite strong, but a bit quivery. Perhaps someone older? A relation?
‘No, that won’t happen. I’ll never get over Julie.’
Oh, that cold, bleak tone. It cut to the quick. Jess was familiar with his grief, but she’d never heard it so plangently expressed, so bitter. Whoever he was speaking to knew him well, and was privy to his sad history. It must be a family member, or a very long-standing friend. Jess knew in her gut it wasn’t another woman, at least not someone like her.
There was another question, but distracted, Jess didn’t quite catch it. Only Ellis’s reply.
‘Yes, I am with someone right now, Augusta. And no, it’s nothing like that. It’s nice, but very, very temporary.’
Jess gripped her glass in both hands. She wanted to back away now, but her feet seemed glued to the carpet. Ellis was talking to his Aunt Augusta, the one with the island, and discussing someone temporary.
Me.
Why did it hit her in the gut to hear it? Ellis had been perfectly frank with her about what he could offer. Why think things would be otherwise? Ellis couldn’t let himself get over the guilt, and he couldn’t get over the loss of his beloved wife. There was no way she could get inside his head and know which pained him the most, the guilt or the loss, but they were both unequivocal. And now, to her horror, it dawned on Jess that despite what she thought was her logical and pragmatic handling of the situation,
she’d subconsciously started to harbour certain hopes. Stupid hopes. Idiot hopes. Probably fostered by the tender way he’d nurtured her, and encouraged her to bloom.
Now she saw those hopes like smoke in the rain, without substance. Ellis would never allow himself to move on. It was sad and unhealthy, and she wished that for his sake as well as her own that things could be different. But she knew that no matter how much she tried to help him, there was probably no point.
His aunt made a small sharp sound of impatience that carried clearly from the speaker. ‘But could you not try a bit harder to make something of your relationship with her? At least give this person a chance, Ellis. You won’t give anyone a chance.’
Despite everything, Jess almost smiled. A matchmaking well-wisher, urging him to give love a chance … where had she heard all that before? The reasons were different, but both she and Ellis had closed themselves off from possibilities. What was different though was that Jess was finally ready to open the door and grow.
There was a long pause. Jess held her breath.
‘We’re just friends, Augusta, that’s all. Jess and I enjoy each other’s company. But like I said, it’s strictly temporary. We both agreed that from the start. I offered to help her … help her out with something. And out of the goodness of her heart, she’s keeping me company for a while. She’s a lovely woman, and I am fond of her, but that’s it. Nothing more. So don’t get any big ideas, eh?’
Oh, that hurt. Even though she knew the score. Because of her own idiotic if barely formed ideas.
But no more. No more big ideas. Ellis was the most wonderful man she’d ever met, and the most human and humane, despite his voracious sexuality. But he would never be hers, and it would be better and less painful for both of them if they parted their ways as soon as possible.
When I get home from London, that’s it. Back to reality … in every sense. No more Ellis. No more Dream Lover stuff. It’s time to make a brand new start in the real world. Get the paints and the easel and everything out of storage. Accept Josh Redding’s invitation.
How to Seduce a Billionaire Page 28
