Bill had noticed too.
He said it looked like she was either ‘running on teacakes’ or ‘mithered about summat’. His observations, rather than helping them address concerns about Aliceon’s wellbeing, had simply sparked a discussion about some of the more obscure Yorkshire phrases he used in conversation. Trudy had teased him and said it was sometimes impossible to understand what he was saying and that he needed to come with subtitles. Frank, the saucier, had suggested Bill might be making up some of the sayings. Kali asked for a glossary, wanting to know what he meant by ‘fettling’, ‘flummoxed’ and ‘fannying’. Then Damien, the boucher, joined in, mimicking Bill’s accent with eerie accuracy. Eventually, Bill told them to stop their chelpin’ or they’d ‘get a Scarborough warning’ and the entire kitchen began laughing.
It was only later that Trudy realised the distraction stopped them focusing on Aliceon.
As the evening wound down Bill had prepared a pair of chicken fillets in tomato and wine sauce. It was an idea based on an Italian recipe, the meat seasoned with basil, sweet marjoram and just a suggestion of rosemary. He was serving the dish with fettuccine pasta and had asked Trudy to pour chilled glasses of Frascati.
While he was cooking, Trudy had taken the opportunity to check messages on her smartphone. At first she was relieved to see there was nothing from Donny. It was only when she reflected on the meeting she’d had with him at lunchtime that she realised he might now be planning some further attack on her, Charlotte or Sweet Temptation.
The idea tightened a knot of doubt in her stomach.
They hadn’t agreed to his terms. They’d made no attempt at all to contact him by the end of the working day. And now she had no idea how he would retaliate.
It was something of a relief, and a distraction, to see that Harvey had responded favourably to the article she’d written. He suggested a change to the opening line, to make it sound snappier and more engaging. But, other than that, he seemed to think the piece would work well for the broadsheet market.
Trudy sent a message saying she’d thought he was going to try sending it to the tabloid first. His immediate response was that her article worked better for the broadsheet. He also said the editor had been in touch and accepted the piece. It would be going to press for the next day’s edition.
She laughed about the achievement as she shared the news with Bill. They further discussed her article while he finished preparing their meal. She had a copy of Daryl’s picture on her phone and Bill exclaimed over the quality of the image.
‘She’s the one who came up here and took photographs the other week, isn’t she?’ Bill asked.
Trudy nodded. Daryl had taken photos of Bill and Trudy and some dramatic interior shots of the restaurant and kitchens.
‘We should get her up here again,’ Bill said.
‘Just so long as we don’t invite her round for a sandwich,’ Trudy warned him.
She smiled at his puzzled expression but refused to elaborate on the joke. She was just discussing Finlay West’s modesty when she’d been trying to give him credit for his contribution when Aliceon said good night.
Ordinarily she called the word over her shoulder before stepping outside and locking the front of house. This evening she lingered with uncharacteristic hesitation. There was no sign of the restaurant’s uber-efficient maître d’ in her slump-shouldered posture.
She looked tired and unhappy.
‘Is everything OK?’ Bill asked.
‘I guess,’ Aliceon allowed. She cast a stiff glance at Trudy.
‘Do you want to talk?’ he pressed.
Again, Aliceon cast another glance in Trudy’s direction. Then she shook her head and turned away. Trudy wasn’t certain but she thought she saw the suggestion of a tear in her eye. Before she had a chance to ask her if she was upset, Aliceon was out of the front door and locking it securely behind her.
‘Is she OK?’ Trudy asked. ‘Do you want to go after her?’
His eyes widened with surprise. ‘Go after her? Tonight?’
‘She’s obviously upset,’ Trudy insisted. ‘One of us should make sure she’s all right.’
‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘Neither of us is going after her. I was married to Aliceon twice and I know she’s big enough to look after herself.’
Trudy stiffened. She didn’t like to be reminded that Bill had been married to Aliceon. He’d been married five times and he’d been married to Aliceon twice. She’d been his second wife and his fourth. Whenever they were together, although Trudy wanted to learn as much about Bill as he could possibly share, she found it difficult to ask about his previous relationships.
There seemed to be so many of them.
‘Aliceon will be fine,’ Bill assured Trudy. ‘If something is upsetting her she can either talk about it or she can get over it.’
Trudy thought it a harsh way to address the situation but she reasoned that the pragmatic approach would be appreciated by someone with Aliceon’s efficient no-nonsense attitude. She made a silent promise to herself that she would check on her the following day, just to make sure Aliceon was coping with whatever problem was causing her so much distress.
‘I think it’s because of Aliceon’s genes that Imogen is such a stubborn mare,’ Bill confided. ‘I’m sure she can’t get that pig-headedness from me.’
The comment caught Trudy off-guard.
‘You’re not pig-headed?’
‘I don’t think so. Would you say different?’
‘How many times did you make Frank return to his station with that champagne sauce?’
‘It was a Champagne Velouté and he’d used too much champagne,’ Bill returned. ‘Am I meant to allow an abomination like that to leave the kitchen?’
‘How many times?’
‘Also, I wasn’t happy with the watery consistency. It looked like piss. That’s never a good look for a Champagne Velouté.’
‘How many times?’
‘Seven,’ Bill admitted. He held up a finger and added, ‘But the customer went away satisfied. She sent her compliments to the chef.’ He grunted and added, ‘She should have sent her compliments to the head chef for preventing her from having to eat that watery dribble Frank wanted to serve, but I suppose you can’t expect the customers to know that, can you?’
‘Pig-headed.’ Trudy grinned.
An hour later they had all but finished their meal at table thirteen. The bottle of Frascati was empty and Trudy didn’t think she could manage the last of the wine that lingered in her glass. She had declined to prepare a dessert this evening and had simply savoured the pleasure of Bill’s company.
‘Do you know what I’ve always fancied doing with you?’ Bill asked.
Trudy chuckled. ‘Does it involve nudity?’
‘A little.’
‘Does it involve sexual pleasure?’
‘A lot, hopefully.’
‘Is the sexual pleasure for you or for me?’
He grinned. ‘I was only thinking about my own pleasure,’ he admitted. ‘But you might enjoy what I have in mind.’
She couldn’t stop smiling as she thought about some of the moments they had already shared. She had learned a lot from working in Bill’s kitchen but she had learned even more under his masterful domination in the bedroom. When he said he was thinking only of his own pleasure, she knew that he wasn’t being serious. Reflecting on how much sexual satisfaction he had given her since they first met, Trudy didn’t think he managed to make her so happy by accident.
Bill pushed his chair back and came towards her. When Trudy tried to climb out of her chair, he shook his head and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.
‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘Now that we’re alone, I want to try this.’
She frowned, puzzled, as he turned her chair so that it was no longer facing the table. Without allowing his gaze to drop from hers, Bill knelt between her open legs. Casually, acting with the authority of a man who knows his impertinence is never going to be questioned
, Bill began to unfasten the buttons on her blouse.
She drew an excited breath and held it.
She had no idea what Bill was proposing to do but it was sufficiently bold and different to be compelling. She savoured the sensation of his knuckles brushing bare flesh as he worked on one button, then the next and the next. By the time he had finished, Trudy was trembling with her need for him.
He met her gaze and opened the garment fully.
She made no protest as he pulled the blouse down her shoulders, exposing her bare stomach and the cups of her lacy ivory bra. She didn’t realise it at the time but the movement also made the sleeves of her blouse catch on the arms of her chair.
‘Mr Hart,’ she gasped. ‘What are you doing?’
He leaned closer and eased her right breast from her bra. Lowering his head to her chest he placed his lips around her nipple and sucked lightly.
Trudy clutched the arms of her chair tight.
The bead of flesh had been sensitive before he began. Bill always managed to excite a wanton response in her body just by being near. But the feel of his mouth on her nipple heightened her need for him. Her nipple throbbed with accelerated desire. A rush of mounting responses began to tingle through her body like a quickening electric pulse.
When he finally broke away she wanted to moan with frustrated despair.
Relief and greater excitement came when she saw he was moving to her left breast. He placed his mouth upon the nipple there, holding her flesh lightly between his teeth as he suckled and nibbled.
She pushed herself into his embrace.
It didn’t worry her that they were in a semi-public place. There was little chance of them being seen or disturbed while they shared their intimacy in the closed restaurant. She supposed the suggestion of doing something vaguely exhibitionist gave her a small thrill. But she knew part of her mind was taking greater comfort from the knowledge that there really was very little likelihood of them being seen or interrupted.
By the time he took his lips from her breast, Trudy was panting with need.
He remained kneeling between her spread thighs, his grin broadening as he lifted the hem of her short skirt and peered beneath. She could imagine the view he was enjoying under there. She was wearing a pair of ivory-white panties to match the bra. From the way he arched his eyebrows she guessed he found the glimpse of the triangle of pale fabric exciting.
He reached beneath the hem of her skirt, his fingers exciting quixotic responses against her bare flesh. He stroked the inner muscles of her thigh and moved his caresses upward. She expected to feel him guiding his touch to the wanton heat at the crotch of her panties. That was where she needed his hand.
But he seemed to have other plans.
His fingers moved to her outer thigh. He stroked his hands against her as though he wanted to do the impossible and reach underneath her backside to cup her buttocks while she sat on a chair. It wasn’t until his hands moved up to her hips and then tugged at the waistband of her panties that she understood what was coming.
She shivered.
She raised her backside from the seat slightly, so it was easier for him to draw the silky smooth fabric away from her sex. She would have moved more but this was the point when she realised the fabric of her blouse had become entangled with the arms of the chair. She tugged at the unexpected restraints and her smile widened as she realised escape would take some effort.
Bill pulled the panties down to her ankles.
With his usual brisk air of authority he pushed her knees apart.
‘Mr Hart!’ she gasped.
The movement was sudden and unexpected. She stiffened as her muscles were stretched to a moment’s restrained discomfort. If her ankles had not been trapped by her panties, she would have opened her legs easily and wider without problem. Moving only her knees made her thigh muscles ache in a sharp and exciting new way. The restraint of the panties around her ankles was unexpected.
It was also an intense and arousing development.
When she tried again to move her hands and discovered she was accidentally bound by her blouse to the arms of her chair, the thrill of orgasm was almost upon her. She couldn’t recall ever feeling so vulnerable.
Bill pushed her skirt higher and buried his face between her legs.
At first his kisses chased a leisurely path from her knee to the centre of her sex. His movements were commanding, unhurried and exciting. It was so late in the evening it was technically morning so his five o’clock shadow was advanced and wonderfully scratchy against the hypersensitive skin of her thigh.
When he had teased her to the point of begging, when she wanted to break free from the restraints of her blouse and panties so she could grab his hair and hold him hard against the aching pulse of her sex, Trudy was thrilled to feel his kisses grow more intimate.
He stroked his tongue slowly against her wetness. He seemed to savour her flavour the way he had relished the taste of the chicken while they were dining. He seemed to drink greedily from her sex the way he had quaffed his glass of Frascati.
The pleasure mounted quickly inside her.
She had been broiling at a near-orgasmic state from the first moment he knelt between her legs. Every subtle kiss and caress had inched her closer to the climax she craved. Now she could feel the thrill of that release was almost upon her.
Absently, she realised the pleasure this time had not just come from his skilful caresses. Nor had it come from the way he instinctively knew how to apply his tongue where it was most needed. This time, the pleasure came from the fact that she was bound at the ankles and elbows. The bondage – she could think of no word more appropriate – made her feel helpless and vulnerable.
The bondage, she knew, was exactly what she needed.
His tongue rested on the heat of her throbbing clitoris. She wasn’t sure if he was teasing her between his lips, tapping the tip of his tongue against her or simply suckling against her wetness as she pulsed for him. His head was beneath her skirt and she had no idea what he was doing there.
All she did know was that the pleasure was everything she had been craving.
A torrent of wet release flooded through her body.
The inner muscles below her stomach, already blissfully weary from the excess of satisfaction, went through a spasmodic series of contractions. A surge of sultry satisfaction poured through her sex. She remained stiff in her chair as his tongue returned to her centre and again began to tease her to a state of bliss.
He moved his head away and then glanced up at her.
His jaw was wet with the dewy lustre of her pleasure.
‘So what was the problem you had this morning?’
Trudy’s cheeks darkened. She felt so confused from the rush of pleasure that she wasn’t sure what he was talking about or how she should respond. As her mind tried to make sense of his remark she wondered if he was talking about Donny.
Did Bill know about Donny’s texts? His demands and threats? The lunchtime meeting? Had Charlotte or Daryl said something? Had Donny taken the bold step of announcing his plans to Bill? Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment as she tried to mask her confusion.
Bill laughed gently. ‘When we made love in the kitchen this morning,’ he reminded her. ‘You suggested you wanted something more. I got the impression you were talking about sex. Do you remember?’
Had that only been this morning? The relief that flooded through her was almost as divine as the pleasure that came from having Bill’s mouth against her sex.
‘Yes,’ she admitted.
She drew a slow breath as she composed her thoughts and tried to think of the best way to frame her ideas. Her chest continued to rise and fall from the exertion of her climax.
‘The spanking was fun.’ She gave him a coy grin and added, ‘It’s always fun with you and you know it excites me. But I had wondered if there was something else we could do to add to the pleasure of the spanking.’ She pulled against the loose restraints of the
blouse that held her arms to the chair and released a small laugh.
‘I was going to ask you for suggestions, but I think I’ve already found what I want to try next.’
Chapter 12
Exhausted and aching, Trudy stepped into the shower. She appreciated the soothing warm water as it cascaded over her skin. After such a long and demanding day she needed the cleansing rush of the shower to wash away all the troubles. The flow was healing and calming and promised to give her body the massage of relief she craved. But somehow Trudy didn’t think the antiquated cistern at Bill’s cottage would hold enough hot water for all the cleansing and healing that her troubles currently needed.
She intended to tell Bill about Donny before they went to bed.
It certainly wasn’t a secret that he was making threats. And she wasn’t deliberately trying to hide the fact that she and Daryl had seen Donny at the burger bar. Under the new arrangement she knew there were to be no more secrets and that was how she wanted it. The problem with Donny just wasn’t something that she had yet had a chance to discuss.
She supposed, on reflection, there were two main reasons why she hadn’t yet mentioned the texts.
Primarily, it had been a busy Monday and there had been little opportunity for her to sit down with Bill and discuss anything much. Bill had been busy with the day-to-day running of the restaurant. After she’d met with Donny, Trudy had been preoccupied with her work at Sweet Temptation. Because she only worked there for three days a week, and some weeks her other commitments cut into that responsibility, there had been a substantial backlog to address before the end of the day. She’d ended up working until the start of the evening before she’d had to rush back to Boui-Boui. There she’d spent a gruelling night in the restaurant’s kitchen working under Bill’s supervision. When they had finally managed to sit down together for their meal there had been other, more important things to occupy their conversation. She grinned when she thought how satisfying some of those other, more important things had been.
Turning Up the Heat Page 10
