Love Beat (11 page)

All the time the deep throb between my legs is growing stronger, beating a steady drumbeat of its own as it stirs the strong, unmistakable glow of dawning orgasm. It threatens to explode inside me every time his eager, hungry lips brush along my cleft and nibble softly along my slit, swollen now and pulsing with need, every time his fingers brush my nipples into hard, jutting points, whenever his warm, firm hand lands with a slap on my rump, jolting me closer to the edge. It never quite arrives, leaving me poised on the brink of pleasure, aching for release.

At last he unfastens my ankles. I think my ordeal is over but he merely grips them firmly in both hands and flips me over.

I gasp as I cross my arms, tightening the tethers. I lean awkwardly on my elbows for support. “What’s happening?”

I feel his mouth hot on my back then the hard muscles of his thighs as he kneels at either side of me. “Kneel up with your ass in the air. I want to see my handiwork.”

I push my face hard into the mattress as he hauls me up by the hips. I gasp as he massages my punished ass, his thumbs rubbing painfully against my tender, twitching curves.

“You look sensational, Tunis—all rosy and beautiful.” He drops hot, eager kisses all over my backside, lingering on each cheek then he pulls away. “Now we’ll try an experiment.”

I feel cool air on my tender skin as he reaches across the bed to pick something up then, without warning, the paddle lands again.

This time the blows are so hard I jerk at each one, but I’m thoroughly warmed up now and giddy for more. I hardly feel the sting as the jolts clutch at my aching belly and prod my arousal ever closer to the edge.

“Okay now?” He pauses just as I think the money shot is about to land. Writhing with frustration, I cry out through clenched teeth. “Yes, yes, it’s fine. Again. Please, once more. Do it again.”

I hear him laugh softly. I squirm as he caresses me again. Juice trickles down the inside of my leg, fueling my shame.

“You want
more
? Certainly. With pleasure. One, then.”

It lands again, and again the jolt ricochets through me. But it’s still not enough.

“Again?”

I give an incoherent grunt and it lands again, and this time he carries on, his arm setting up a steady beat. At the fourth he stops, pauses for a moment then gives me one last swat right across the base of both cheeks. This time I’m close,
really
close, and he slips his hand deep between my legs and reaches my aching bud with his fingers.

Without warning, my orgasm erupts.

I scream out loud with the glory of it, my spasms coming in waves, one after another as I convulse around his hand.

It’s too much. I’m not used to this. Tears follow closely.

Instantly he unfastens me, tears off the blindfold and gathers me into his arms. I bury my head against his chest, wracked with sobs as my body eases back to normal and my pounding heart slows down.

“Wow, result. Easy now.”

He seems to hold me for a long time, but I suppose it can only be minutes before he takes my face in his hands. “Tunis, look at me.”

I do so, whisking away the last of my tears. I feel wonderful—soothed, content and ready for anything.

But his face is stern. “Now you must thank me. Kneel on the floor.”

Languid, almost sleepy, I do so.

“Put your hands behind your back.”

New excitement fizzles through me, jolting me fully awake. I do as I’m told. He looms before me, his erection impossibly large, impossibly hot. I can feel its heat on my face.

His eyes gleam briefly. “Take it in your mouth.”

Automatically I bring my hands round to caress him but he shakes a finger. “No hands. Keep them behind you.”

Really?
He means it. Forbidden to stroke him, I burn even hotter. Slowly I extend my tongue to lick him, thrilling to the salty taste of his skin and his heat, then work him into my mouth and suck hard at the smooth, rounded crown.

This is a real challenge. He’s very big and very erect. Positioning myself carefully so as to open my throat as wide as I can, I start to fellate him with slow thrusts. I work round him with my tongue, letting his flavor and his earthy, feral aroma fill up my senses. To my joy, I find my own arousal burns again deep below, where I’m still pulsing from his touch. As I work up a rhythm, I feel an extra throb of excitement as his breathing speeds up.

I push forward, yawning my throat open to take him fully, letting my weight propel me forward. I feel a surge of triumph as the tendons stand out on his neck. It’s deeply moving to see this beautiful man react so intensely.

He growls low in his throat when I lunge forward to take his whole length, pausing to let the gag reflex ease off then lunging again and again.

With a sudden movement he grips the sides of my face to hold me still. I feel him quiver in my mouth then he gives a strangled cry and floods me with his warmth as he pumps into me over and over.

I relax around him, letting him soften slowly, careful not to make a sudden movement now that he’s spent and tender. He holds my head in place, and I keep very still, unwilling to break the spell as his breathing slowly steadies.

At last he pulls away then leans down, seeks my lips with his and holds me fast in a long, lingering kiss.

When he finally releases me, he caresses my hair and slides his hand along my face to cup my chin. “That was sensational.
You’re
sensational. Thank you, sub. You’ve earned yourself some fun. Let’s go party.”

* * * *

While I work miracles with a quick shower, a comb and my makeup bag, Cade strides about the suite, snarling into his phone and catching up on some of the business he’s neglected during the day.

I look on in awe, like a star-struck teenager. Does he have any idea how compelling he looks as he paces the room? I could watch him all night.

And, surprisingly, I feel wonderful. My backside’s tender, but I’m ready for anything. And I’m
hungry.

As he finishes a call, I catch his eye. “Are we eating soon? I’m famished.”

He eyes me from across the room, his gaze dark. “So you have other appetites. I must take care to satisfy them. Yes, we’ll eat now, but not here.”

I try to look unconcerned as we make our way down through the hotel to the main entrance. To my surprise he picks up some keys from the blushing receptionist at the main desk and leads me straight out to the front drive where a gleaming sports car is waiting.

The V-8 engine fires with a powerful, throaty roar and we pull away, heading into the shadows of the countryside and the scents and the warm, moist air of a lovely summer night.

“Where are we going?”

He flicks a button on the dashboard and I hear the plaintive tone of a solo jazz trumpet. It reminds me of empty New York streets in old black and white movies.

“To a restaurant I know. It’s not far. Art Pepper suit you?”

“Mm, lovely. Why did you send Sonja back with Jake? Won’t people talk?”

“About them? I doubt it.”

“I meant about us.” My voice is low.

“I said you were staying on with the Martins and I had business in Bristol. They don’t know we’re together. Or expect us back for a while.”

As usual, he’s thought of everything. In the soft glow from the dashboard, his classical features form a perfect profile.

I watch him, mesmerized. “You always have to be in control?”

He darts me a glance. “I like being in control. I feel safer that way.”

Safer?
How odd. I frown. “Is that why you like to beat women?”

His smile vanishes. “I don’t beat women—not in that sense. Men who beat women have lost control, in my opinion. What I do is always consensual. I like it. They want it.” In the faint light I see his lip curl. “
You
want it. That’s why we’re here.”

“You’re hedging. I’m talking about control. Why is it okay for Sonja to be alone with Jake and not me?”

The car screeches to a halt, and he turns to face me, eyes blazing. “They’re with my driver, who also happens to be ex-army and one of my bodyguards. I told him to keep an eye on them. And I might remind you what Simmons nearly did to you on that footbridge. And he’s still hot for you. I can tell.”

His mood swing is startling. I fight to steady my breath, still uneven after the shock of the sudden halt. “But that’s what I mean, Cade. With respect, my relationship with Jake is none of your business. We’re old friends, end of story. And I can take care of myself.”

His contented mood has vanished. “That I doubt. While you’re in my care, I mean to look after you. So stay away from him. You could have been killed.”

Angrily he jabs at the ignition, and we start off again. This time we drive in silence.

* * * *

We eat in a small restaurant over a quiet and very traditional country pub. The food is delicious—delicate scallops with fresh country herbs, roast fowl with new, crisp vegetables and a light, summery lemon tart. The wine is surprisingly good and comes in a dust-covered bottle with the compliments of the house.

Cade seems to be well known here, and the landlord and his wife—who is also the cook—both come to our table to greet us at the end of our meal.

I congratulate them on the food, and I’m promised a recipe to take away for the delicious lemon tart.

Luckily Cade seems to mellow with the food, and soon chats lightly about his big breaks in the entertainment business and his plans for the future. As we wave goodbye to our hosts and set off once again into the darkness, he rests a hand on my thigh and strokes gently, his fingers warm and meaningful. “Enjoy your meal?”

I run my fingers lightly over the back of his hand and his fingers move higher. “Among other things, yes. Thank you. It was delicious. How do you know so many people around here?”

I lean back in my seat and open my legs a little, inviting his insistent hand to move up a little farther.

I see him grin.

“We lived around here, for a short while, anyway. My father bought Beat Hall long before we moved in.”

I see a sudden image of a younger Cade, the sulky teenager who penned his hit record after a chemistry exam, being a boy, exploring the grounds, making friends in pubs and climbing trees.

It’s an intriguing picture.

Excitement builds as we drive through the imposing gateway to the Beat Hall Estate. But instead of driving up to the main house, we veer off to the left.

Soon we’re driving along an unfamiliar narrow track lined with trees. I glance across at him, puzzled. “Where are we going? Do you have a favorite spot for making out, too?”

He looks at me and grins. “Something like that. Not that I’ve ever made out in it. I’ve never brought anybody else here before. But I thought you might like to see it. It’s pretty at night.”

He pulls off the narrow lane into a graveled space. In the headlights I can just make out a curved brick wall, with an elaborate doorway at the top of some wide stone steps. As he switches off the lights, I peer upward as a shaft of moonlight reveals a tall tower. I can just see its top, a sharp outline against the stars.

“This is the lookout tower. The third duke built it as a beacon during the Napoleonic wars when there was a threat of invasion. Spectacular views, especially at night. Come on. A climb will do you good.”

It’s a long way up. The steps curve upward in a seemingly endless spiral. Cade leads the way, apparently unfazed by the climb.

When we finally reach the top, I’m panting a little, my legs aching, but my breath soon steadies as I gaze out of the vast picture windows.

All around us the views over the park stretch away. Moonlight glances over the treetops, turning them into a billowing silver ocean. Far away, the towers of Beat Hall are etched against the deep midnight blue of the sky, its windows sparkling through the leaves like a magical palace.

In the distance a slim silver line marks the horizon.

“Is that the sea?”

“Yep. You can just see it from here on a clear night.” He’s close behind me, his voice oddly husky in the stillness.

“Why did you bring me here?”

His lips touch my shoulder with a whisper-light kiss. “I wanted you to see it. I used to come here when I was a boy—when times got tough.”

I stiffen. “Was that often? After the crash?” I hold my breath. Is this the key to the mystery of who he is?

“Not often. But it got to me sometimes. Anyway, when you’re growing up times are always tough at some point. I didn’t do so badly.”

Did it make him like he is? I must go carefully here, but I’m desperate to know. “Did… Did what happened to you turn you on to…BDSM?”

“Not especially. I was very happy on the whole. You don’t have to be damaged to like BDSM. I just like it. I’ve always liked it. I like what it does, and I like where it takes you. I don’t like women scared. I like them hungry. When I do it well, that’s what happens.”

He touches my face with his fingertip. “I want to see you like that—very much.”

He kisses the other shoulder then turns me round to face him. In the moonlight his eyes glitter strangely, but his face is partly in shadow. “I suppose we’ve got to the point where we might as well face it. This is turning into something more than sub training, don’t you think?”

For a long moment the world stands still, then I draw in a cautious breath. “Is it?”

His eyes glitter. “I think so, yes. But we’ll hold the violins for a while. I’m on a mission here. I want to show you what BDSM’s all about. It’s a lot more than whipping the shit out of people. I want to show you what it does and why. And it’ll take me more than a few days. And since you asked, there’s another reason I brought you here tonight.”

I gaze at him, spellbound. This feels unreal, like I’m in some fairy tale at the top of a magical tower where handsome princes say strange and wonderful things to princesses. “There is?”

He kisses me gently, his mouth touching mine with the lightest brush of his lips. “Yes. I brought you here because this is where I want to fuck you for the first time.” He kisses me again. “But only if you want me to. And only if you promise we’ll do it again—often.”