Love Beat (7 page)

I close my eyes briefly as I begin to pulse.

When
. He said
when
it gets too intense. Not
if
, or
it might
…

The cane swishes again and he’s squatting in front of me, his face close to mine, his arms resting on his knees, his hands together. The cane trembles between us, balanced lightly in his fingers.

The end of it quivers a little.

“You flinched just then. That scares you, Tunis? Tell me.”

My mouth’s gone dry. “Everything about this scares me.”

His face darkens.

The upward snap on my left breast is light but so sudden I jump.

“Scares you…
what
?”

My eyes widen.

He’s hit me. With a cane.

It was barely a tap, but the fact of it rockets round my brain like a thunderbolt.

This is really happening.

My thoughts race. “It scares me…S
ir
.”

He smiles slowly. “Sure it does. Fear is part of the fun. Stimulates the senses, intensifies the pleasure. Being scared of the dark makes you like ghost stories. Being scared of pain makes you like this. You’ll learn to manage it through ritual. And a simple way to start is to mind your manners. You just earned your second punishment, by the way.”

“Second?”
I feel a tremor go through me.

He arches an eyebrow. “You forgot to tell me you were going walkabout with your photographer friend today. I missed an important deal while I took time out to track you down and play Superman. It cost me upward of a million dollars. That earned you the first, so we’ll do it now.”

He rises to his feet and stands over me. “Keep your head down and your eyes on the floor until I tell you to move.” He walks back to the sofa. I hear him sit.

“Now crawl over to me on all fours. Keep your eyes on my face.”

Slowly I move toward him. Instead of shame, I feel rising anger. And at the same time this simple, primitive movement of my limbs is giving me a strange, feral power. As I reach him, I sense something new, something entirely unexpected.

This feels hot.

The gleam in his eyes tells me he
knows
.

He pats his knee. “Now climb up here and bend over. Legs straight, ass in the air.”

He takes some time to get me into position. His touch is light, warm and thrilling. The thought of the cane, now lying across the cushion next to him, makes my stomach shrink. “What are you going to do?”

He runs his hands over my bottom and between my thighs, sighing deeply. “Wow. You’re like peaches, Tunis. I’m going to spank you. Not with the cane this time. Maybe just a couple of taps at the end. We’ll see. Ready?”

Without waiting for an answer, he eases one leg from underneath me and traps me with it, pinning me down, and at the same moment leans on my back with his elbow, forcing my shoulders down into the seat.

He fondles me again then his hand lands with a loud crack. I shriek, startled, as the sting fades to a hot glow. His hand lands again, this time lower down. With a supreme effort, I steel myself against the impact and grit my teeth as the blows rain down, again and again.

Once the initial shock wears off, the stings become simple flashes of heat and join up into a continuous, white-hot blaze. After a while he pauses. I feel like I’m on fire.

“How is it?”

What?
“You expect analysis…
Sir
?”

I hear his breath hiss through his teeth. “Do I detect defiance? For that, you’ll definitely get the cane.”

He removes his leg, freeing my trapped knees, and pushes me roughly off his lap. He stands up, catching me as I slide sideways and he hauls me up at the hips.

“Put your fingertips on the floor and balance on your toes. Spread your legs wider.”

My dancer’s instinct arches me into position, but it’s a tricky one to do well.

“Hold still.”

He sounds angry. The thought sends a spiral of fear down to my toes, but not in time to prepare for the instant sting from a single swish of the cane as it lands across both cheeks of my fiery bottom. As I haul in a lungful of air to protest, it lands again at a different angle.

“The two promised strokes. Now maybe you’ll think twice before answering back. Hold the position.”

My legs tremble as I hold the pose, delayed reaction draining my muscles of strength. His hand once more sensuous and tender, he massages my burning backside with a gentle, loving caress. A sob wells in my throat as he leans over me and breathes close to my ear.

“You’re so beautiful like this. You can have no idea.” His fingers slide between my legs and explore my softest places, now swollen and slick with lust. I feel a trickle of moisture down the inside of my thigh as he lingers, his hand easing deep inside me.

“You’re very close. You took that well, for your first time. Would you like a reward?”

How can I answer that? My throat’s too full to speak.

My legs are stretched into an impossible position, my bottom is on fire, and to cap it all I feel—
I know
—that any second I’m going to explode in an orgasm. If he moves his fingers into me just once more…

He laughs quietly and his fingers move again. I give a shriek as I convulse in a shattering climax. It throws me off balance and I crash to the floor in a heap of spent, quivering limbs and burst into angry, emotional sobs.

Instantly he’s on his knees beside me, gathering me up into his arms. “
Tunis.
I’m so sorry. We went too far. Hush. Don’t cry, please, baby.”

As my spasms die away, I lean against him, still trembling and fight for control. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. It’s just… It’s been so long…” I bury my face in his chest as tears well up again, and he strokes my hair, murmuring something I can’t quite hear.

After a moment or two, I pull away and wipe my nose on the back of my hand. “I’m okay.
Sir.
”

He eyes me for a moment in silence. “That’s for me to decide.” He touches my face, his fingers surprisingly gentle. “And you should come more often. Maybe we’ll work on that. Kneel again, hands behind your back.”

Avoiding his eye, I assemble my limbs into a kneeling position. It’s easier now. Amazingly, the sting on my bottom is already fading into bearable heat and my climax has left me glowing with content.

I smile up at him. Is this allowed?

I hardly care. I feel on top of the world, like I’ve just won a race. “Is that why you agreed to this? Simply to humiliate me? Aren’t there easier and more public ways to do it?
Sir?
”

His eyes narrow. His tenderness vanishes and his face grows stern. “Plenty of ways. It’s easy to humiliate a public figure like you. You might even enjoy it. Shame can be part of the thrill, as you just found out.”

He touches my face, his hand cupping my jaw. His thumb moves gently along my lower lip. “I like to see you like that. It gives me unimaginable pleasure to do that to you. I knew it would. But that’s not why I agreed to do this.”

I stare at him. “No? Then why did you?”

He frowns. “That night you were caught on camera… You reacted so strongly that I wondered if it was really from distaste or if it was from something else.”

“What do you mean?”

He leans closer, his lips almost touching my face. His breath feels hot on my skin. “I’m not sure, but I’m beginning to think…”

The rest of his thought is lost as he fastens his mouth on mine and claims me in a long, urgent kiss, forcing my head back and filling my mouth with his tongue. I react instantly, my own need building again as I respond to his, signals flaring all through my muscles, inflaming the glow from my tormented rear and fusing into hot, naked greed.

As he pulls away, he gazes into my eyes with a strange expression, like he’s discovered something unexpected. He springs to his feet and helps me up, his breathing ragged.

Once again he’s distant, severe. “That’ll do for our first session. We’ll join the others now and meet up again later. And don’t forget… No one must know. If anyone so much as hints they’ve guessed about us, you and your friends are out on the street.”

* * * *

As we dress for the evening, I can’t shake off the feeling that he’s watching me. He says little, striding about while he takes his calls, his look both intimate and arousing. Twice I drop my hairbrush under his steady gaze. I blush when I fumble with the zipper on my gown. Quietly he fastens it for me, his fingers lingering around my shoulders.

Is he enjoying this?

As he finally shrugs on his tuxedo and adjusts his tie, I’m smoothing my gown of shimmering peacock satin and stepping into matching, wickedly expensive heels. The sight of him—elegant, urbane, waiting for me at the door to our rooms—stops my breath.

How can he look so calm?
I feel like I’ve been through a spin-dryer. As we walk to the elevator, he takes my hand. “You look sensational. Fucked, but sensational.”

In a panic I glance at the mirrored wall opposite, and I see what he means. A mystical being stares back at me—part fairy, part enchantress, slim in brilliant satin, outwardly elegant but with that telltale glow that comes from only one thing.

He grins. “Except, of course, you’re not fucked at all—at least, not yet.” With a light laugh he lifts my free hand, turns it over and drops a playful kiss on the inside of my wrist. “After you. We don’t want to come together.”

I grin back at him, suddenly playful. “I guess not. At least…not yet.”

I step quickly into the elevator and press the button for ground.

* * * *

“Jeez, Tunis, Jake got
caned
.” Mel fixes me with an accusing glare. Across the room I see Ben detach himself from the arm of an up-and-coming soap star to hurry over.

My cheeks burn for an instant as the glowing part of me that suffered the real thing reminds me of my ordeal. I start to throb. At that moment Cade emerges from the elevator and catches my eye.

I swallow and try to concentrate. “I’m truly sorry, guys. Jake tried for another scared shot but I felt faint. I gather we breached health and safety, or something.”

My presenter’s instinct finds words to smooth things over, while the rest of me strains to follow Cade as he moves around the room, meeting and greeting. I take particular note of the women, who cluster around him like flies.

As the others give me a blow-by-blow account of their short, sharp session in Cade’s office I see Nera sidle up to him and give him a broad, full-on smile.

I answer Ben on autopilot, already aware of the gist of what Cade said.

Afterward, still angry, he told me about it at length.

Now, from the corner of my eye I watch Cade lean over and murmur something in Nera’s ear. He pats her cheek, before moving away to join some film people.

I feel a spike of jealousy so acute it catches my breath. What, exactly, holds those two together? Every time I see Nera, I feel the same unease. They’re evidently close, but for some reason they pretend they’re unconnected.

Then it hits me
. That’s how he treats all his women.

He said the same thing to me.
No one must know. Pretend we’re not together.

Ignoring a burst of laughter from the group around me, I scan the room in a swift, furious sweep.

How many others?
Are some of them here, his lovers—his
subs
? Are they all sworn to secrecy, like I am?

I’ve been such a fool. I’ve got no rights over a man like him. He’s rich. He’s beyond good-looking. He’s got anything he wants, including any—possibly every—passing female.

What was I thinking?

* * * *

A few cocktails and a substantial buffet restore my self-esteem. I’m happily flirting with a minor porn star equipped with impressive pecs and a thing for TV presenters when the lights dim and the music changes to the
Love Beat
song.

Without warning, Cade steps between us and steers me onto the dance floor. “Enjoying yourself?”

I’m a little tipsy now. I give him a playful look. “As you see. Cade, where is he?”

He stiffens mid-beat. “Who?”

“The Panther. He’s here. I know it. Which one is he?”

Jake’s play-acting earlier this afternoon about the Panther lurking in the bushes reminds me that the mysterious celebrity Dom is an ever-present danger. He came here for me, and I’ve ducked out.

He may have been cheated of his prey but he’s still here, camouflaged among the elegant guests as effectively as the real thing, prowling the jungle, watching me, waiting to spring.

I lick my lips. “He’s one of these people. He’s been here all the time, watching.” The thought is terrifying.

“Sure he’s here. So what? You’re obsessed.”

We’re dancing close. As if by chance, his song’s playing as a slow number. Our eyes lock as the words filter through to me. I never hear words in songs, only the music, but I notice them now.

“When will you wake me and make me behave…?

When will you take me and make me your slave…?”

Rattled, I try to keep on topic. “He still scares me.”

His eyes flicker as his voice lowers to a private murmur. “Hey, relax. You’re with me now, remember?” As the music dies away, he leans forward. “I want you upstairs in five minutes. I’ll go first.”

Casually he strolls away, leaving me shaky with arousal.

We’re not even supposed to like each other.

Slowly I weave a path through the dancing and sidestep a couple near the elevator. With a shock, I recognize Jake and Sonja, deep in conversation.

She looks delicate in ice-blue satin but she’s still at work, making notes on a pad.

Jake looks boyish and handsome in his tux but he’s frowning. “Still one of the best in the business. Takes 16mm, 18mm or 35mm. You can even change the film while it’s running. But they’re all museum pieces. You’ll never find one. Even if you did, you’d have to pay up to seven thousand dollars…”

Poor Sonja. Now she’s got to find him a replacement camera for the one Cade’s men smashed this morning.

What a life.