Rich Tapestry (21 page)

“Who do you think you are? Daddy Bear?”

The infamous Nick Hardisty says something about my manners being less than ideal, to which I respond with a distinctly surly, “My manners are fine. Fuck off.”

Even with my face buried in my—his?—pillow, Freya’s sharp intake of breath is unmistakable. Tough. What’s he doing in here anyway when we’re trying to sleep? The next thing I know, my lovely warm duvet is snatched away. I make a grab for it, but he’s too fast and the quilt is sailing away from me, across the room. I was sleeping in my underwear and modesty takes over as I try to curl into a ball. Nick Hardisty merely leans in and lifts me bodily from the bed. Some residual sense tells me he won’t hurt me, definitely not with Freya watching, but I’m still struggling and kicking furiously as he strides across the room.

“If there’s any fucking off to be done, darling, it’ll be down to you.” His voice lacks any hint of warmth as he makes his intentions clear. He marches out onto the landing with me firmly imprisoned in his arms.

I’m expecting to be dumped unceremoniously outside the room but instead his voice echoes along the hallway as he yells for Dan, of all people. Moments later my nemesis is ambling toward us, looking more than a little amused. Nick Hardisty is far from jovial as he calmly dumps me into Dan’s outstretched arms.

I glare at Dan through bleary and no doubt blood-shot eyes. “Put me down.” I wriggle, expecting my feet to be lowered to the floor. The click of Freya’s bedroom door closing reminds me that my bag is still in there, containing my wedding clothes, makeup, toiletries, the lot. I face the unwelcome prospect of having to encounter her angry Dom again and plead for my stuff to be returned. Then I’ll need to find somewhere else in the house to change and get ready.
Shit!

But none of this is going to be an immediate issue, as Dan ignores my instructions to leave me to my own devices, preferring instead to march off back down the landing with me still in his arms. I open my mouth to protest. I’m still gathering my wits to deliver my next demand as he turns into another bedroom. He back-heels the door shut behind him, then drops me onto the bed. It’s a large double, I note irrelevantly, as he shrugs out of his light jacket.

“Lucky that Ashley’s sisters are early risers, as well as commendably tee-total, otherwise we’d be a little crowded in here. I was over at Greystones last night and they used my room. Still, we have the place to ourselves now.” He starts to unfasten the cuffs on his shirt.

I watch in horror. Surely he isn’t intending to undress? I watch for a few moments then with a yelp, I try to leap off the bed. I’m intending to head for the door, suddenly not caring a jot about my state of near enough nudity. Dan intercepts me halfway there.

“Don’t do it. Nathan may be pretty laid back most of the time, but he won’t thank you for parading around his house in your underwear. He’d consider it bad-manners, what with the children being here and all.”

That’s the second time in the last five minutes that my manners have been called into question and I’m getting sick of it. Fully awake now, I’m prepared to concede that Nick may have had a point. I could have handled that better. I was rude, and Dom’s never take kindly to that I do appreciate. But it was not entirely my fault.

“I was asleep, Nick woke me up. He bundled me out of the bedroom and just handed me over to you, next to naked. He apparently didn’t care whether there were children around or not. How come I’m in the wrong? If Nathan has any objections he should be talking to Nick, not me. And you’re just plain deluded if you think I’m staying in here while you strip off.”

I get to my feet, indignant.

“I want my stuff. I’ll find a spare bathroom or something. Let me pass, please.” I attempt a haughty tone, choosing to ignore Dan’s slow smile as he takes his time raking my body with his eyes.

“Not a good idea, Summer. I take your point about what happened, but stay out of Nick’s way for a while. You can get dressed in here.”

“I need my bag…”

I move to step around him, but he simply picks me up again and deposits me back on the bed, this time dropping alongside me. I try to roll away, but he quickly captures my wrists, pinning them to the pillow above my head. I’m starting to panic. Surely he can’t mean to…?

He doesn’t. His grip slackens, but his body is still looming over mine as he watches me spread out below him.

“Easy, Summer. You know I’m not going to hurt you. Don’t you?” His tone is soothing, hypnotic, his eyes a deep, rich brown as he calms me.

He waits, his eyes locked on mine. At last, I nod. Slowly. He promised me a spanking, which is one thing. But this is quite different, or would be. I know that whatever else Dan might be, he is not violent and I
am
safe here. I close my eyes, drag in a deep breath. “I’m fine. Really. You can let go of me now.”

“I already did, love.” He straightens, his face creasing in a gentle smile. “I’ll get your bag for you in a moment. Have you had coffee yet this morning?”

I shake my head, at once acutely conscious that I need my morning hit of caffeine. And fast. He nods his head to the bedside table.

“Take mine. I’m on my third anyway.”

“How come you’ve got coffee up here? I thought you said Ashley’s sisters were sleeping in this room.” I’m sure he wasn’t carrying a mug when he was out on the landing.

“I brought it up with me earlier. This is my room normally, when I visit here. I gave it up last night because I was dossing at the farm with the rest of the stag party. Ayla and Melisa are already up and having their breakfast downstairs, so I could get my room back to shower and change in. He nudges the cup toward me then sits on the edge of the bed. He watches as I sip and sigh my appreciation, my hands clasping the mug.

“Good night was it? The party?”

I nod. “It was…eventful.” I slant a glance at him. “Did you know Freya was going to be here?”

“Yes. I was halfway to Greystones, though, by the time I realized you probably didn’t. Nice surprise?”

“Yes. Eventually. I thought she was going to hit me at first—for worrying her. I went off, you see. Without telling her.”

“So I gathered. And I know that feeling.” He rubs his jaw ruefully as I drop my gaze.

“I’m so sorry. I truly am.” I still can’t believe I actually did that. Bodily attacking him on the front steps.

He smiles, but his expression is serious. “I know you are, but we’ll come back to that. And you already know how that’s going to pan out.”

I squirm on the bed, my pussy clenching treacherously at the mention of spankings yet to come. He shakes his head, and I swear he knows just how wet my knickers are already becoming.

“For now, Miss Jones, you can satisfy my curiosity if you would. Why
were
you so angry with me yesterday? I mean, I know I spanked you, back then when we met at the club, and probably scared you a bit. But I thought we parted on reasonable terms.”

“We did. It was me.” I’m muttering, wishing he wouldn’t press me on this, insist on an explanation, though of course at some level I always knew he would. I wish I
could
explain without sounding just plain weird.

“What
was you?”

“I just…I mean…I felt…” I’m at a loss.

He interrupts my stammering, trying another tack, “You disappeared straight after we parted. Why was that?”

Now I’m surprised. How does he know when I left? I open my mouth to ask.

“Freya was worried. She asked me—or at least she got Nick to. She expected you home after your visit to the club, but you never showed up.”

“I went to Bristol. On impulse, sort of. I wanted my old job back…”

He frowns, clearly puzzled. “I see. And did you get it?”

“No.”

“But still you stayed away. Four months? Five? Sounds like more than a mere whim to me. Sounds like a massive sulk. And I’m guessing it wasn’t Freya you were mad at.”

“I wasn’t sulking.”

“Whatever. But it
was
me you were pissed off with, right?”

I fall silent, feeling trapped. How is it that Daniel Riche can home in on my greatest insecurities with such unerring accuracy? He sees straight through me. But still, I can’t say, can’t tell him. I can’t find the words to explain. I don’t have to. He knows.

“I made a mistake with you. I stuck to the rules, but I think now I was perhaps too rigid. I ignored my instincts. I should have fucked you that night. That
was
what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

I start to shake my head, not needing the further humiliation of admitting to my need. His rejection was enough. I see no point in now dwelling on it, rubbing it in. But he doesn’t let me deny it.

“Well, that made two of us. It was what
I
wanted, definitely. I held you to something you said while you were scared and confused. I should have taken more time, let you relax more before setting our limits. I let you down. I let both of us down, I daresay. But I disappointed you, and I hurt you. I do regret that, and I intend to put it right.”

This is unexpected, and sounds remarkably similar to an apology. I just gape at him, astonished, as the meaning of his words starts to sink in.

Put it right?
Any remaining uncertainty regarding his meaning or his immediate plans for me evaporates as he turns his head to look appraisingly at my body. I start squirming again, though I couldn’t honestly say why. Underwear doesn’t do much for my modesty, but he’s seen me in less. His admiring gaze brands me as he presses his point.

“Would you like that, Summer? Would you like me to fuck you? Here? Now? Should I start making up for lost time?”

“Now?” My voice comes out on a whisper. “But what about Nathan? The children?”
Where did that come from?
Why am I not declining his generous offer and heading for the nearest bathroom?

Dan grins, holding my gaze. “Nathan can make his own arrangements. Would you feel happier if I lock the door?”

“The door? Does it lock?”

“Yes. Shall I?” His tone is low, sexy and very, very gentle.

His liquid brown eyes are hot, like dark chocolate, sweet and strong and so sensual I’m finding it hard to breathe now, let alone form sensible answers. He sees, he knows, and he stands. Seconds later, the click of the lock confirms his intent then he’s back. He stands beside the bed for a few seconds, watching me watching him. Then he unbuttons his shirt. He removes it quickly, dropping it to the carpet.

He shifts his weight and I guess that must be him toeing off his shoes. He says nothing as he unfastens his jeans and drops the zip then pushes them down to step out of them. I’ve been politely keeping my eyes fixed on his face but can’t help dropping my gaze as he pulls down his boxer shorts to release his cock. His erection is as I remember it, huge, thick and very, very solid, jutting proudly at me. After the first time I never paid that much attention to James’ cock, I was never that interested really. And I paid none at all to the dimensions of any of my ‘clients’ back in Barrow, but I’m reasonably convinced that no one in my previous limited experience compared even remotely favorably to Daniel Riche.

My mouth feels dry, my stomach lurches in nervous anticipation. Had I been on my feet I daresay my knees would be buckling by now. What have I done? I wanted this. Back in Lancaster I definitely wanted this. I should be more careful what I wish for.

Dan stretches out alongside me on the bed, saying nothing as he cups my cheek to turn my face toward his. He brushes his mouth over mine, his lips soft and warm as he trails them across my cheek to nuzzle my ear. Despite his very obvious arousal, he’s not demanding, not insistent or forcing the issue, or any of the things I think I remember about him. He’s slow, unhurried, setting a soft, easy pace as he waits for me to catch up.

And I do. Suddenly it’s as though a switch has flicked in my brain, my sex drive activated. And turned on full. I reach for him, his shoulders first then I sink my fingers into his thick hair. And I’m kissing him back, furiously, impatiently. I’m the one demanding. I’m the one in a hurry. He responds quickly, matching his pace to mine as we roll on the bed, clutching, grabbing, caressing. He slides his palms around my shoulder blades and loosens the clasp of my bra. He pulls the lacy fabric away, my breasts now naked to his gaze, his touch. He palms the softness, pinching my nipples as I arch under him. Another roll and now I’m on top. He lowers his hands to my waist, but only to haul me up his body so he can take the throbbing peak between his lips. I fold my arms around his head, allowing my weight to sink onto him, loving this sensual onslaught. He sucks, nibbles, at the same time reaching to push my knickers down. I decide to help, wriggling and kicking to work them down my legs and shove them away.

“What do I need to do?” I ask the question nervously, not wanting to break the mood, loathe to interrupt the seductive spell he’s weaving. But I need to know. I want to play this game too. For once, I want to be a participant rather than simply enduring. Or acting out a role.

He releases my nipple to answer me, “Nothing. Anything. Just enjoy this.”

“I am. I will. But…”

“If I hurt you, or scare you, or if there’s anything at all you’re not happy with, you can say so. You know that, don’t you?”

“I…yes. I want…”

I’m stammering again as he recaptures my nipple, opening his mouth wide around my breast. And I lose the power of coherent thought entirely as he reaches down to caress the globes of my bottom with both his hands, parting my buttocks. I’m straddling him—my pussy is open, wet, hot, and I’m desperate for him to touch me.

“Please, please, Sir.”

His low chuckle signals his approval at my choice of words, but I’m past caring as he draws his fingertips slowly across my cunt, from back to front, finally reaching my clit. From there, he makes short work of me. He rubs my clit, softly at first then applies more pressure. I whimper, let out a sound somewhere between a squeal and a gasp, as he slips his thumb between the lips of my pussy. He probes deeper, curling the digit to hit my G-spot dead on. He’s not even thrusting, just rubbing, caressing me, but I’m convulsing helplessly around his hand as my orgasm engulfs me. I’m rigid, clinging to him as my body shakes and shudders, as the waves of my climax pulse along my veins. It seems to continue forever, though in reality it must only be seconds before I’m drifting back into my body, regaining some hold on reality however tenuous.