Carrot and Coriander (6 page)

“Yes.” She deliberately softened her tone, an air of nonchalance would do no harm, certainly. Unfortunately he saw through that façade too.

“You’ve been crying.”

“I have not!” She tried for indignant, failed again as tears threatened once more.

Stepping to her he used his thumb to wipe away the stray tears from her cheeks, his smile wry. “You have. I hurt you. I’m sorry if you expected me earlier. But I did say I’d be here, so here I am. You need to trust me, Rachel.”

She gulped, drew in a shaky, steadying breath. “Trust you? I hardly know you.” Then, “Where were you? Earlier?”

“I had something I needed to do first. I should have let you know. I will next time, if it matters to you. And you soon
will
know me…very well.” He turned, obviously looking around the tiny space for somewhere to sit. No joy—piles of papers and files covered every surface in her compact home office. The room was equipped for her to work, not entertain clients. Or boyfriends.

Was he a boyfriend? Lover? Toy boy? Rachel was far from certain. Whatever, he wouldn’t be finding anywhere to sit down in here.

Rachel had allowed herself twenty minutes to wallow in self-pity at the kitchen table. Then she’d told herself to just chalk the whole sorry episode up to experience, and she’d come up here to her office to get some work done. She was behind after her unscheduled day off yesterday so she welcomed the chance to get her head down. Didn’t she?

She’d been so immersed in double entry book-keeping that she hadn’t heard the van. No doubt the strains of Il Divo wafting from her DVD drive had had a lot to do with the fact that he’d come up on her unawares. She liked to play music while she worked. It helped her to concentrate. So she hadn’t heard him prowling around downstairs looking for her. Hadn’t heard him make his way upstairs, having discovered her bits of frothy lace still in their carrier bag on the table, deciding to bring them with him and peer into every room off the landing until he found her. Here, in her office. Working.

Seemingly giving up on the notion of finding a spare seat Callum returned his attention to her new lingerie. He swung the strips of lace in front of Rachel. “Came across these. Downstairs. Yours?”

“Of course mine. Who else?”

He glanced up sharply at her slightly waspish tone, and for reasons she did not entirely understand Rachel shifted uneasily in her seat. She was tempted to apologize. Callum gave her ample time, then tilted his head briefly. She’d had her chance.

“Indeed. They’re lovely. I think the pink today, don’t you?” His tone was distinctly firmer now.

As she continued to stare at him, he handed her the lingerie in question. “I’ll be in your bedroom in ten minutes. I expect to find you there, wearing these. And nothing else. Except maybe a smile. Any questions so far?”

“But—I’m busy…” She gestured around her, at the piles of unfinished accounts and tax returns yet to be filed.

His eyes never wavered from hers. “You will be. Ten minutes, Rachel—don’t waste it.” And with a flick of his chin toward the door he indicated she should go, now, and do as he’d told her.

Amazed at herself, she did.

Chapter Six

Ten minutes later, to the millisecond, the door to Rachel’s bedroom clicked open and Callum slipped in. He closed the door quietly behind him and leaned back on it. He smiled.

Rachel was perched on the edge of her bed, wearing the pink camisole and briefs. A squirt of Thierry Mugler’s
Alien
on her pulse points completed the ensemble. And she’d never felt more self-conscious in her life. What the hell was she doing? What on earth possessed her to think this was even remotely a good idea. He was going to laugh out loud at her—a woman her age messing about with a lad like him.

She’d always kept herself in shape, she knew that, could manage to carry off a bikini at a push. But this was just ridiculous. Racked with embarrassment, she managed a full five seconds before she stretched out her hand, groping for her robe.

“No. Leave that. I want to look at you.” His tone was commanding.

Rachel’s hand stopped in mid-air. She dropped the robe onto the floor at her feet, sat still again.

“Look at me. And breathe, Rachel.”

She realized she’d been staring at the robe and holding her breath. With a conscious effort she raised her eyes then exhaled slowly. Breathed in again, exhaled once more. He smiled, a slight, knowing smile and pushed himself off the door to stroll toward her. His jeans were unbuttoned, and he’d lost his shirt somewhere before coming into her bedroom. His erection was threatening to burst his zip, large, thick, solid. For her. Maybe this wasn’t such an outlandish notion after all…

He stopped directly in front of her, allowing her plenty of opportunity to study the promising-looking bulge in the front of his jeans. Her fingers itched to reach out, test its firmness. Soon, maybe. Probably. He caught her chin with his fingertips and tilted her face up.

“Loving the outfit. I think we’ll keep this on. For a while longer. I’d prefer this loose though.” He slid his hand behind her head to tug the spring-loaded claw out of her hair, letting the waves tumble around her shoulders. “Mmm, much better.”

Dropping his hands from her, he strolled around the bed, then stretched out on it, behind her. She swung around to face him, her legs tucked under her body. And she noted that to say this was
her
home,
her
bedroom, he was the one who seemed the very epitome of relaxation. While she was strung as tight as a spring.

“Some ground rules, I think.” He said the words casually, seemed almost business-like.

“Ground rules? What sort of ground rules?” She could hear the tremor in her voice, hoped he couldn’t. Fat chance.

“No need to sound so worried. This is for your protection.”

“Protection? Why? Why would I need protecting?”

“Why indeed? Let me explain. You’ll remember, I think, what I said last night? About spanking you? And I asked you about sex toys. I see you did as I asked by the way, and left them nice and handy. That’s good. I like a sub who does as she’s told.” He paused, watching her.

Rachel knew her expression could be nothing other than total bafflement. She didn’t answer, could think of anything to say.

Callum continued, “Sub. Submissive. To my Dom. Dominant. Do you know what these words mean, Rachel?”

Another careful, long breath in then she exhaled slowly before speaking. “Yes, I know. I’ve read about…that sort of thing.”

He smiled. “Well, who hasn’t I suppose. After
that book
came out. Still, it’s a start. So you know how this stuff works, sort of?”

“I’m not calling you Sir! I’m old enough to be your mother.”

He shrugged. “Oh, is that right? And how old are you, Rachel?”

She glared at him mutinously. Had he no social graces? He lifted one sardonic eyebrow, which she interpreted as him waiting for an answer. Swallowing her outrage, discretion won out and she provided one. “Forty-four.”

He just nodded. “I see. I’m twenty-two. And for what it’s worth, my mother’s thirty-six. My step-dad’s twenty-five. I’ve a brother not that much older than Jacob. And a sister who’s just six weeks old. Crazy, yeah?”

“Thirty-six!” Rachel couldn’t keep the astonishment from her voice. And she was not an accountant for nothing, she did the maths. But that means…”

“Yup. She was only fourteen when she had me. Still, worked out okay. We lived with my grandma and granddad and they helped her out. My mum’d like you. She admires professional women. What is it you do in that office of yours?”

“I’m an accountant. Tax, that sort of thing.”

“Ah, very impressive. Do you do gardeners?”

She couldn’t help the teasing note, some opportunities just scream not to be missed. “Well, I haven’t. But it seems I’m about to…”

There was a brief pause, then laughter. He reached up and grabbed her, hauling her down beside him. Leaning over her he dropped his mouth onto hers, angling to deepen the kiss. Rachel stiffened—startled at first—then softened as he deepened his exploration, stroking his tongue along the seam of her lips until she opened her mouth. He tasted, explored, tangled his tongued with hers, then withdrew to suck her tongue into his mouth. Rolling onto his back he pulled her with him, and now she found herself on top, kissing him, plunging her tongue into his mouth, greedy, demanding.

Long minutes later he rolled back on top of her, lifting his head to gaze down at her. “You distracted me. And we still need to talk.”

Rachel frowned up at him, puzzled at the abrupt change of pace. He continued to talk to her, trailing his fingers lightly through her tangled hair as he spoke.

“We need to sort out safe words. And hard limits, as per your erotic reading matter. You need to know what I intend to do, and I need to know if there’s anything you really, really don’t want to try. I need to know what scares you, so that I can help you get past being afraid. Okay so far?”

Rachel nodded, tentative. Her previous sexual encounters bore no resemblance to this. In the past, when she’d actually got as far as bouncing around in bed with anyone, it had been along the lines of a quick, if passionate, fumble. Adventurous, in that she’d been in uncharted territory a lot of the time, but certainly never this level of careful planning. She had a suspicion there would be passion with Callum, and definitely adventure. Callum’s approach had a new quality to it, one she found unfamiliar and a little intimidating. He was purposeful—everything seemed to be done by intent, in line with his careful instructions. She found herself obeying, as much as responding. It was disconcerting, at odds with her normal independent spirit. She was a professional woman, successful, a businesswoman, a parent. So why was she allowing herself to be bossed around by a man half her age, in her own home, in her own bed, for God’s sake?

Because it was oddly comfortable. Solid and safe. Her nerves of a few minutes earlier melted into the duvet as she relaxed under his gentle, capable fingers. She knew she was going to defer to him, in this, and maybe a lot more besides? And she would do it gladly.

“First—safe words.” His tone was calm, competent, as he continued. “Your safe word needs to be something you wouldn’t normally say, that you can use to stop me dead if you need to. If what I’m doing to you is too much, if I push you too hard, scare you, hurt you more than you can bear. Do you have a word you’d like to use for that?”

She shook her head. “Hurt me? Why would you hurt me? And, why can’t I just say ‘no’, or ‘stop’?”

“Because it’s too easy to confuse those words with the sort of things you might say anyway when you’re very aroused. We don’t want to make any mistakes over this. So, how about ‘carrot and coriander’?”

Still locked on to the notion of ‘hurt’ and working that through in her head Rachel continued to stare at him, her face mirroring her confusion.

He dropped his hand to her shoulder gave her a gentle shake. “So, carrot and coriander?”

She considered for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. Carrot and coriander.”

He continued, all business and matter-of-fact now, dealing with the basics for her. With her. “Right. That’s your ‘stop’ signal. Your red light, so to speak. And what about if you just want me to slow down, or you need to talk about something. Do you have a word we could use for ‘amber’? A moment’s thought, then, “Rockery.” Rachel managed to keep her voice remarkably steady. Despite the outrageous things he was saying, suggesting, he hadn’t managed to scare her off . At least, not yet.

“Rockery works. Fine then. Now, do you want to specify any hard limits now or shall we agree those as we go along?”

“I don’t know. What’s best?”

“Unless there’s anything else you want to get straight now, anything bothering you, I’d suggest we play it by ear. We’ll go slow, I’ll keep checking with you that you’re okay.”

“You’ll check with
me
? What about me checking
you
?”

He chuckled, leaning down to nudge her nose with his playfully. “Ah, but I’m going to be the top, Rachel. And you’ll be the bottom. That’s how it is, so I’ll be calling the shots, dishing it out. You’ll be on the receiving end. And I’ll do the checking.”

“Receiving end? Receiving what, exactly?”

“Ah, that’s the accountant talking. Right, I mentioned spanking last night and you managed not to faint. Add to that caning, whips, maybe a leather strap. I have a nice one of those, would suit you perfectly. I’ll tie you up, blindfold you, gag you sometimes. Any of that likely to be a problem?”

Rachel struggled out of his arms and sat bolt upright on the bed, her knees tucked protectively under her chin. She glared at him.

“Bloody hell. There’s a lot of difference between a playful slap on the bum, and being tied up, gagged and whipped.”

Seemingly unfazed by her reaction, Callum made himself comfortable, his arms behind his head as he regarded her. She was struck by his air of patience, as though he anticipated her reaction and was simply waiting for her to calm down again. He must be satisfied she was listening and not just rejecting his words out of hand, as he continued.

“There certainly is. But it’s a difference of degree. We’ll work up to the whips I think. And I promise you, the most wonderful things can happen to your body when you’re tied up, naked. And blindfolded. Your legs spread wide. And you’ll feel every stroke, intimately. No distractions you see. Shall we start with that?”

Rachel knew she was staring. Couldn’t help it. No one, no one had ever spoken to her like this before. Made their intentions so explicit. And no one had ever, ever excited and aroused her like this gorgeous young man did. Moisture welled between her legs as he described what he might like to do to her—and soon, here, in her own bed.

Her stomach clenched and her pussy quivered in anticipation. She was scared, definitely, but in a nice way. The sort of scared she remembered she once felt at the top of a rollercoaster at Alton Towers just before she was catapulted into spinning, swirling oblivion. Maybe he was offering her a similar ride. Christ, she hoped so.

She knew she was in, committed. She was going for this, for him.