by Christy Poff
"Connery, what can be important enough to keep Brett away?"
"I'm sure I don't know, though the previous owner would disappear on business trips like the one your husband's on and be in communicado until he returned."
"But he didn't have a..."
"No, ma'am, he didn't but his sister died begging to see him before the end. He didn't know because he never called home. The wine business is cutthroat."
"I don't believe this. I need him here."
"I know, ma'am. I've left several messages on his cell."
"He must hate me,” she moaned, despair hitting her again.
"No, you mustn't think that,” Connery consoled. “He loves you more than anything."
Ainsley looked at Connery, gazing deep into his bright blue eyes. She could see he told her the truth and tried to draw strength from him.
"Connery, what do I do?"
"Wait for him."
"But..."
"The man spent every day at your bedside once he found you. Before that, he used every resource available searching for you after he drove himself to learn how to walk again."
"What?” she asked, sitting up.
"Your assailant not only shot your husband but crushed his leg. Infection set in. He basically had to learn how to walk again and he did it all for you believing he'd failed you."
"Failed me? He could never..."
"But he believed he had. He spoke about some of the aspects of your relationship stressing that a slave needs to protect his mistress."
"You know?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"And..."
"It's none of my business. My concern lies in keeping you and Mister Quincannon happy while making sure the household runs smoothly."
"You're a fine gemstone, Connery."
"I'd prefer to be called a diamond in the rough."
"That you are,” she said, smiling. “You've made my recovery so much easier. I don't know how to thank you."
"Don't give up on him. He honestly loves you and, from what I can tell, he's still a slave to his very beautiful mistress."
"Thank you,” she said, smiling. She stood up and planted a kiss on the older man's cheek. “I needed to hear that."
* * * *
Frustration set in with Brett Quincannon at almost every turn. If he didn't sit in a traffic jam, he had to wait while rescue teams extricated an accident victim from a mangled car or he had to detour miles out of his way due to construction.
"How many more times?” he yelled, hitting the steering wheel with his hand and angry his schedule had been thrown off the way it had.
Brett had been on the interstate between Nogales, Mexico and Tucson where nothing went wrong. Everything started to happen on the way into Phoenix then on Interstate 10 West. He wondered if this all happened on purpose to keep him separated from Ainsley. Think rationally, Quincannon—you're letting your imagination get the better of you!
Near San Bernardino, California his cell phone rang. He pulled to the shoulder of the road to answer it.
"Quincannon."
"It's Connery, sir..."
"I'm on my way but traffic's been a pain in..."
"I-5 isn't much better from the reports I've heard."
Brett thought for a moment.
"This is what I want you to do. Instead of having the car taken to where we agreed earlier, have it taken to the airfield south of the vineyard."
"What are you planning?"
"I'm getting a flight out of LAX into San Francisco International then I'll pick up a helo into the valley."
"Very good, sir."
"How is she?"
"Better but she's very unsure about you."
"Damn it! I should never have..."
"Don't, sir, no second-guessing. No one knew she'd recover when she did. You had no way of knowing..."
"I know you're right but it doesn't help."
"When do you expect to return, sir?"
"I'm an hour out of LA, add another hour or more at the airport and then flight time—give me about four or five to get there."
"I'll call you when Benjamin leaves to take your car to the airstrip."
"Good idea."
"Very good, sir,” Connery said. “It will turn out the way you desire."
"I hope you're right."
After ending the call, he eased back into traffic and headed to Los Angeles. Can I survive the next four to five hours?
* * * *
Once he reached the airport in Los Angeles, Brett turned in the Cadillac then tried to find an airline flying to San Francisco as soon as possible. He finally bought a ticket on a Frontier Airlines flight which would leave within the hour. He checked his watch figuring his estimation of arrival time in Napa to be on target—another habit he hadn't lost.
Two and a half hours later, his flight touched down in San Francisco. He left the concourse and headed straight for the heliport at one end of the airport.
"I'd like to get a chopper to the Valley."
"We have one out right now."
"How long before it returns?” Brett asked.
"Twenty minutes,” the agent said.
"What about that one?” he asked, motioning to one sitting outside.
"It's a reserved flight."
"Fine,” Brett said, frustrated at the additional delay.
"Your name?"
"Quincannon."
"Brett Quincannon?"
"Yes, why?"
"A Mister Connery reserved a helo for you to fly out as soon as you got here."
"Excuse me?” Brett asked, briefly surprised by Connery's foresight but then again, Connery had spent his life being superefficient.
"We have a helicopter reserved to take you from here to Napa County Airport. You leave once you are on board."
"How much do I owe you?"
"It's already been taken care of. If you'll follow me..."
"Thank you so much,” Brett quickly enthused, relieved he wouldn't have to wait for the other helicopter's return. Thank you, Connery.
A few minutes later, the helicopter's pilot lifted off then turned toward the Napa Valley. Brett sat back, finally able to relax a little. Things had begun to look up, Brett cautiously optimistic.
The flight time not long at all, they landed at the Napa County Airport a short while later. Brett thanked the pilot, left the aircraft and went directly to where his Monte Carlo sat waiting. Stowing his things in the trunk, he quickly got into the car, started it and headed home as fast as he could legally drive.
"Home—do I still even have one?"
* * * *
The day had been hot—unusual for the area. Ainsley decided to take advantage of the huge pool behind the house. This part of the property overlooked the beautiful wine country, one of the things she loved about it and the region.
She changed into a black two-piece bathing suit—very skimpy, very sexy and very revealing. She looked in the mirror, tears in her eyes. Where the hell are you?
Pleased with her reflection, she picked up a diaphanous white robe and slipped into it before grabbing a huge fluffy white towel. She went downstairs then outside.
"Miss Ainsley?” Connery asked.
"I'm going for a swim. Could you bring out some iced tea?"
"Very good, miss,” Connery said. “Enjoy yourself."
"I hope to."
She went outside, draped her robe over a lounge chair along with her towel then went to the steps at the corner of the pool. Taking it cautiously, she went into the water then eased into some lazy strokes. She swam the length of the pool several times coming back to the edge where she stopped and let herself float on her back. The water felt good on her overheated body and she enjoyed its touch.
Ainsley let her mind drift to the one man who made her whole. She ached for him, her body begging for his touch though one thought lurked in the back of her mind. After what happened at Pacifica, can I take being restrained? She trusted Brett with her life, knowing she could trust hi
m unconditionally. Her love for him and her trust he'd come for her helped her to survive Goodman's unorthodox treatments. None of it would make any difference if she didn't have Brett in her life.
Her body ached to have his cock fill her mouth and pussy, filling her with his hot seed, but no matter how much she begged for him, she would not betray him by easing her desires and needs. Only Brett Quincannon could do that and only he would.
* * * *
Brett finally pulled into the driveway of Cannon Vineyards. Parking the car near the front entrance to the house, he got out of it and raced inside where Connery met him.
"Where is she?"
"Swimming."
Brett went toward the rear of the house but Connery stopped him.
"What?” Brett asked, frustration returning. “Why are you stopping me?"
"Look at yourself. When did you shower last?"
Brett saw the reasoning behind Connery's question. He nodded then ran upstairs to the bedroom he'd existed in since Ainsley came home from the hospital. He took a quick shower, dressed in black jeans and a t-shirt then, after putting on a pair of running shoes, he went back downstairs. Connery met him at the foot of the stairway.
"Now, what?” Brett asked.
"Take a couple deep breaths, relax and trust in your love for each other. If you meet her without relaxing some, you..."
"Thanks, Connery. I owe you."
Brett took several deep breaths then headed to the sunroom which opened onto the terrace leading to the pool. Walking into the room, he stopped, frozen where he stood.
"Oh, my God,” he whispered.
Ainsley walked up the steps from the water to the cement walkway around the pool, Brett watching every move she made. Water sluiced along the length of her gorgeous body, his cock reacting to the sight in front of him. His breath caught, Brett committing to memory the sight of her wearing a gorgeous black bikini with jewels dangling between her breasts. She turned toward the lounge chair where her robe lay draped, Brett's cock throbbing with insistence from the view of her beautiful nearly naked ass, barely covered by the bottom of the suit.
He watched her slip into the diaphanous robe which clung to the curves of her wet body then walk to the opposite end of the pool. She stood gazing at the late day view of the valley, mist rising from the meadows. He couldn't get over the goddess he stared at.
Taking another deep breath, he went outside, seeing her with nothing between them except the length of the pool. At this point, he felt he could walk on the water to get to her but Connery's words came back to him. Patience...
Ainsley turned and started walking back to where she'd left her towel. He noticed she concentrated on where she carefully placed her feet. Halfway to him, she looked up and stopped. Stunned, her jaw dropped in disbelief.
"Brett?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Is it really you?'
"Yes, ma'am,” he said, slowly walking the remaining distance to join her. She started to meet him then impatience and desire got the better of her. She broke into an awkward run before she jumped into his arms.
Brett's arms encircled her pulling her tight against him. Their lips met, their tongues dancing. Brett moved his hand to the back of her head, pressing her closer. He feared losing her more than he wanted to admit. He wanted to ignore it but the dread persisted. What if I lose her?
He pulled back, needing to breathe. He gazed into her eyes wanting her.
"My God, Ainsley, you're beautiful."
* * * *
Ainsley walked to the end of the Olympic-sized pool and gazed at the rich acreage surrounding Cannon Vineyards. The mist hovering over the meadows and the vineyards gave it an eerie but mystical appearance—the view spectacular.
After a while, she turned to go back up to the terrace. Still a bit unsure of walking thanks to the damage to her leg, she tended to look at her feet and the ground when she walked. When she reached the halfway point of the pool's length, she stopped. Looking up to check the remaining distance, she froze.
At the end of the pool stood her husband, Brett Quincannon. No, it can't be. My mind's playing games on me, or is it?
"Brett?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Is it really you?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Ainsley started toward him then broke into an unsteady run. She flung herself into Brett's arms, clinging to his body like the robe clung to hers. While their lips met in an insanely emotional kiss, his arms surrounded her, holding her body tight against his.
"Brett..."
"Ma'am?"
She felt his hand press her head to his, their tongues dancing more. Ainsley melted into him, her body fused to his. She wanted him to take her, her body needing the release only he could allow her to have. Will he?
"My God, Ainsley, you're beautiful."
"You're..."
His lips covered hers again, Ainsley's mind spinning. Tears ran down her face, joining with his.
"Ainsley, I love you."
"I love you, too. I've been lost without you."
"Same here,” he told her. He dropped to his knees. “I am your slave if you'll still have me."
Ainsley wept.
"Mistress?"
"I feared you wouldn't want me—that I'd driven you away."
"Never—I could never leave you. You're my life, for God's sake."
"Please, Brett, make me whole again."
"Are you sure?"
"More than anything. Thinking of you the last few days put me on edge but I never betrayed you by..."
"Ainsley, it wouldn't have been betrayal."
"To me, it would have been. I gave myself to you completely and..."
"Shh..."
"But..."
Ainsley looked at him, her love more intense.
"You have your orders, slave, but there is one thing."
"Ma'am?"
"Please be patient with me when it comes to restraint. I'm not sure if..."
Brett stood, looking her in the eye. He held her tightly, afraid she'd run from him.
"When I saw you in that place in a straight jacket, I vowed not to force you into it. If you can't handle it, I understand. I'd still like you to bind me the way you do when you use the hood but if you cannot, I can live with it as long as I have you. You are my life, Ainsley Quincannon, until death us do part."
* * * *
Brett laid Ainsley in the center of the bed they'd shared before life changed for them. He kissed her then laved her neck to her shoulders.
"The suit is so damned sexy on you. You are so damned hot but right now, you are overdressed."
"Then do something about it and make sure I see that magnificent cock of yours."
"I want it buried in your hot little body."
"I like the way you think."
"Good, because I want you going down on me while you have me cuffed, hooded and unable to do anything but obey your commands. Please, Ainsley, I need your dominance."
"You sound like you want punishment for something."
"Maybe I do,” he answered, removing his tee shirt and hoping it hid his face. He would live with the knowledge he'd taken another man's life but Ainsley deserved better. He knew he'd never be able to hide what he'd done in Mexico once she saw it lurking in his eyes. He slipped off his jeans and lay next to her.
While he undressed, she removed the swimsuit. Heat coursed through her when his naked body touched hers. His tongue on her nipple sent her near the edge. She felt the reaction between her legs, gently taking his hand and placing it there. Without question, he obeyed her silent command. She gasped when he slid two fingers into her soaked pussy and slowly moved within her.
"Please, may I come for my...” she began to ask.
"Come for me, Mistress, but while you do, I want you taking me."
Ainsley shifted positions, her lips on his cock. Slowly, she took him into her throat until her lips touched his balls. She drew back then began sucking his cock while he added another finger
to the two fucking her hot pussy. They enjoyed the heat of their love when they came together, Ainsley swallowing his hot seed while her sweet essence flowed from her and soaked his hand.
His lips on her pussy sent more heat coursing through her. The quick strokes of his tongue over her clit caused her to cry out. She took his cock once more and together, they took each other over the edge into their own small corner of heaven.
"Come, slave,” she gasped.
"Feed me, Mistress."
Ainsley held him tightly praying she'd never lose him. She cried out when his release filled her mouth and she took him, feeling her heart pounding while she did. He drew back a little, his hand finding her breast and squeezing.
"Please, Mistress, I want to be hooded when you..."
"Anything,” she gasped, “anything."
Her moan when he left her to get the necessary items filled him with sadness. Never did he want to cause her to feel empty and to learn this momentary separation bought this on told him everything he needed to know. He returned a few minutes later, handing her manacles, cuffs, the hood with its bit gag and a flogger.
"Why do you insist on punishment?"
"I failed my mistress. I didn't protect her and for that, I need to be flogged without mercy."
"And if your mistress tells you she does not blame you?"
"That is up to her."
"Very well,” she said. “Down on your knees."
"Yes, Mistress."
After he knelt in front of her, she had him tease her nipples with his tongue. She pressed his head closer, needing the contact between them—something she feared losing.
"Stand, slave,” she said, taking hold of his swollen cock. Ainsley led him to the chair at her dressing table and had him sit down. She cuffed his hands behind him then used the manacles on his ankles. She kissed him before placing the custom-fitted hood over his head and zipping it closed.
"Are you biting the gag?"
He nodded.
"Can you breathe without any problems?"
Again he nodded.
Ainsley went to a drawer in her dressing table and pulled out a long length of thin black satin ribbon. Knowing her slave was blind to what she did, she expertly used it to bind his cock and balls. His reaction pleased her.
