Love Beat (10 page)

They’ve still got labels attached. The price tags make me catch my breath.

But now I’ve got a show to put on. Soon I’m in performance mode and in a surprisingly short time, I’m ready.

When I head downstairs to find the others, I’m sleek in bright turquoise Thai silk, my hair falling in a long, gleaming coil down one shoulder. My simple sheath dress is set off with gloves, high-heeled sandals and a tiny clutch bag. A wide-brimmed straw hat swings loosely from one hand.

This is Mrs. Martin’s day, so I make a special effort.

It seems to work. I’m gratified to see heads turn as I cross the entrance hall and join the others on the steps looking out over the drive. The two men look a little taken aback.

Sonja’s prettier than ever, a porcelain doll in pale shell pink with a matching hat trimmed with a white flower, the ice melting now. “Oh, Miss Vale, you look lovely.”

Her warmth takes me by surprise. I smile back, genuinely pleased. “You too. And it’s Tunis, please. Clever of you to get Jake into a suit. He hates dressing up in the daytime.”

To complete my surprise, even Jake’s mood has lifted. He seems distinctly upbeat this morning. He grins and makes a small bow. “Anything to please a lady.”

Behind him Cade looks away and avoids my eye. I guess words have passed between them but I’m glad their spat has been patched up for today, at least.

* * * *

Soon we’re all cushioned in the luxury of a swift, silent limo, Cade’s regular driver a bulky presence at the front. The interior is roomy and quiet. As we leave the soft Devon parklands of Beat Hall and head north along the Severn estuary into Wiltshire, Cade and Sonja become absorbed in business. He dictates notes for meetings and conference calls while Sonja cuts in occasionally to check dates, times and numbers of people attending.

I lean over to whisper to Jake. “Sorry yesterday turned into such a big deal. Are you okay?” I keep my voice low so as not to disturb the others, but instantly I feel Cade’s eyes burning into me. I resolutely ignore him.

Jake glowers at me and whispers, “The man’s a megalomaniac. Someone should put a stop to it. I’ll get my own back someday. Don’t you worry.”

He glances round to see we’re being watched. In a louder voice he offers an apology. “My fault, Tunis. Should’ve warned you, I guess.”

I distract him by asking how he feels about his coming task and he brightens up like he always does when he gets technical. “Today should be really interesting. I like doing family shots. You get some moving moments. Lighting might be tricky. Indoor locations can be a bit hit and miss.” He leans forward to hiss in my ear in a loud stage whisper. “That’s the trouble with these moguls—always throwing their weight around.”

I grin back, relieved he’s in such a good mood. “Watch you don’t get trampled next time he heads an invasion.”

He snorts. “If that’s a veiled reference to Genghis Khan, it’s Mongols, not moguls, airhead.” Instantly we’re teens again, sparring for fun.

As the car finally draws up at the pretty country church where the christening will take place, I’ve almost forgiven him for yesterday’s ordeal. How can Cade possibly think that Jake, of all people, is a threat?

* * * *

By early evening I’ve signed my name dozens of times, posed with the beaming baby, posed without it and posed with beaming parents and small groups of beaming guests so often that I vow I’ll never again be rude about movie stars or anybody else who has to do this for a living. I’m exhausted.

My face aches from smiling. My head reels with the names of people I’ll never see again. It’s very hard work.

Cade’s everywhere, shaking hands, being the genial employer, making a point of keeping Jake in tow at all times. But most of all, I’m deeply touched when I meet the Martins.

“Mr. Fitzlean’s paid for everything,” Mrs. Martin whispers in her soft Wiltshire accent as I sign her autograph. “He’s been so good. And I was thrilled when he said he’d bring you. It’s like having royalty. Makes it a real day to remember.”

The service is held in a pretty country church but the reception afterward is at a grand country hotel with a marquee set up on the grounds. As the sunlight turns to gold and the shadows lengthen into evening, the guests are invited to stay on for a buffet supper followed by dancing.

Cade appears at my elbow with Jake and Sonja in tow. “I think it’s time we left these good people to party.”

His look sweeps over me, drinking me in. Since stepping out of the car this morning, I’ve felt his eyes burning into me all day. We’ve barely spoken, but every time we’ve touched—during photos or talking casually with the guests—I’ve felt a tingle of electricity. Each time I’ve taken care to step out of range and focus on what I’m doing.

Each time the feeling has lingered, leaving a shimmer of excitement that’s been building into a surge of heat.

As the others leave, I linger to make some final farewells. When I finally emerge at the entrance to the hotel, Cade is waiting alone. His eyes meet mine with a gleam that could melt rock. “I sent the others back on their own. We’re staying for a while.”

I take a slow, steady breath. “You want to dance?”

He smiles slowly. “Later, maybe.”

* * * *

Our suite’s on the top floor. It’s smaller than the apartment at Beat Hall, with plainer furniture and homelier bedding, but I get no time to explore.

As we walk in, he seizes me by the waist, spins me round and fastens his mouth on mine like a man starved. I tear at his shirt and tie as he reaches behind me to slide down my zipper and unpeel my dress.

Soon we’re standing in a pool of clothing. With an impatient thrust of his foot, he kicks it away and sweeps me into his arms. “I’ve wanted to do this all day. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I’ve never seen anyone light up a room like you can.”

We land in a heap on the bed and his mouth descends again. I hear him growl low in his throat as I writhe luxuriously against his jutting erection, letting his heat scorch the cool, smooth skin of my belly.

His hands are everywhere—along my flanks, over my breasts, kneading my bottom with long, firm sweeps of his fingers. His touch is electrifying. It sends urgent signals all through me, fusing into a dull throb deep between my legs.

With a sudden lurch he rolls over onto his back. I sit across his hips as he holds me up by the ribs, his fingers gripping me firmly. His thumbs jut provocatively into my breasts. I survey him in triumph, his magnificent torso laid out before me like a banquet. I lean down and touch my lips to his breastbone to make a start.

He laughs softly. “Hey, not so fast. We’ve got things to do first.”

I settle at either side of his chest and run my fingers lightly over his chest hair, thrilling as his tiny nipples sharpen into nubs under my searching, teasing fingertips. “What sort of things?”

I lean forward, letting my loosened hair flow over him. He runs his hand through it and holds a lock of it to his face. He breathes in with a deep sigh.

With a powerful thrust of his hips, he tips me onto the bed beside him. “Your training session. Forgotten so soon? You’re not getting out of it just because we’re off site.” He sits up beside me, his face stern.

“
Now
?”

His smile has vanished. In a blink he’s no longer the genial employer bestowing gifts all round, he’s back in control and he’s serious. “Now. Kneel.”

“But… I need the bathroom. I’ve had a long afternoon, Cade. Please.”

I need more than the bathroom. I need a few seconds to prepare.

He pauses, his expression opaque. “Okay. Take a few minutes then I want you back here.”

He gets off the bed, finds his jacket in the heap of clothes he’s just kicked across the floor and reaches for his phone. I watch mystified as he jabs at the keys then sets it carefully on a low table. “I’ve set a timer. Take five. Go.”

I dart into the en suite, take a long drink of water from the tap and splash some on my face. With the door shut I look at myself in the mirror. I appear the same as usual, only with more makeup and glossier hair. My eyes look unnaturally bright.

But that’s just excitement. I’ve brimmed with it all day.

As I walk slowly back into the main room he’s leaning over a small bag on the floor. It gapes open as he takes out some items with exaggerated care, weighing each one as he lifts it out then eyeing it thoughtfully.

I kneel slowly by the bed, scooping back my hair, and watch him.

He seems remote, absorbed. He’s naked, his erection jutting ominously into the air, large, luscious and purple. Along his back and shoulders, muscles ripple as he stoops to zip up the bag then stands up to push it away with his foot in a single, lithe movement.

He turns to face me, a perfectly honed, bronzed image of muscle, sinew and deep, carnal intent. His eyes lock on mine with a heat that sparks all through me.

“Put your hands behind your back.”

He walks over to me with slow, measured grace and stands before me, his erection inches from my face. “Look at me. You’re going to get a real spanking now. You’re very beautiful. You’ve done everything I asked. You’ve been preening all day, the belle of the ball. But we have to get you back into submission mode for our second session to work. Agreed?”

His voice is low, his words so quiet I can barely hear them. His meaning sends a chill through me.

Do I want this?
I can negotiate here. He’s asking permission. All at once I have a choice.

I can smell his skin and the fierce earthy aroma of his private parts, so close to my face. I feel an answering signal from deep inside.

Yes, I do want it.
And for some reason I’ve no wish to examine, I want it
now.

“Yes, I agree.”

He sinks back onto the bed and pats his knee. “Climb up here.”

As I do so, I see the items from the bag set out neatly beside him. “What are they?”

He takes his time, arranging my legs into position, signaling I must keep my knees straight, and holds up the items one by one. “This is a duster, this is a wheel and this is a blindfold. These are for you. These four leather cuffs are also for you, and this”—he holds up a fearsome-looking bat made of carved wood—“is a paddle. This is for me.”

A what?
It looks like a table tennis bat but it’s thinner and made of heavy, polished wood. It has an elaborate pattern carved into it that lets light shine through.

I see what it is, and I’ve already guessed what it does. I shiver as he fondles my bottom, his hands sweeping deep down between my thighs. A tell-tale trickle of juice runs down the inside of my leg. I’m already dripping with arousal, and we’ve not yet started.

“The paddle’s for both of us—for one to give, the other to receive. Ready?”

I screw my eyes tight shut.
Be careful what you wish for…

“Yes, Sir. I’m ready.”

Chapter Eight

My spanking is harsh but mercifully brief.

After a slow warm-up with his hands that threatens to make me come every second, he switches to the paddle. Now I’m scared.

It looks ferocious. But I’m so hot already that the few sharp, stinging blows Cade delivers with it are nothing like as bad as I’d feared.

Now I’m really on fire.

He pauses to let me get my breath then slips the blindfold over my head.

As the stings fade into a hot glow and the light blots out, I feel his hands move over me again, firm but tender, hard and soothing both at the same time.

“Okay? How does that feel? Tell me.”

It feels wonderful.
I
feel wonderful. But he knows this.

I take a long, shuddering breath as the heat fades on my bottom and burns somewhere else, with a fierce ache that throbs between my legs, but I have no choices here. I can only endure. “I’m fine. I feel
… Oh
.”

His fingers slip between my legs and deep inside me. He draws in a long, ragged breath as he encounters my wetness and my all-too-evident, shameful need.

“Okay. I can tell how it feels. You’re dripping already. That should make the rest of our session pretty interesting.”

In the soft, murky confines of the blindfold all my senses sharpen. As he gathers me in his arms, his touch is more electrifying than ever. I lean into his arms as he gets me into position on the bed, fixing my arms by clipping the cuffs to tethers looped round the bedposts then hauling me down to stretch them tight and securing my ankles.

It’s thrilling and very scary to feel so vulnerable, to be so completely at his mercy, but this is taking a long time to arrange. “What are you going to do? This is making me nervous.”

I sound husky. I realize I’m trembling.

I feel his breath close to my ear. It brings me up in goosebumps.

“Easy. Don’t be frightened. Do you trust me, Tunis?”

“Do I have any choice?”

In answer Cade fastens his mouth on mine, his kiss long and deep, his tongue gentle but insistent. I reach along it with my own, shy at first then eager, as ripples of lust glow in my belly and spread out all over my body.

At last he pulls away and I shudder as he drops light, soft kisses on my throat and moves down to each nipple in turn, teasing each with a long, lascivious lick then moves further south, along my belly.

“You always have a choice, all the time.”

His lips murmur against my skin, sending shivers all through me. “I try to guess how you’re feeling but you must always tell me if it gets to be too much. Now we’ll start.”

I can hear music, but whether it’s from the hotel or from somewhere in the room I can hardly tell. It makes a calm pattern in the background as a bewildering kaleidoscope of touch opens up in my world of darkness.

Each time I expect something painful, I feel only a soft, whisper-light feather or fingertip—or a kiss. Each time I start to relax I feel a harsh slap or a strange, metallic rasp as the spiked wheel runs over me, grazing a nipple or along the inside of my thigh.

It’s delicious, fiercely arousing and acutely disturbing. Soon I’m panting, both dreading and craving the next touch, twitching and writhing at its contact, shaky and trembling as my tingling nerve endings try to work out which it is—sharp or soft, hard or gentle, pain or pleasure. After a while, it’s impossible to tell.