Trust Me (30 page)

“With your money,” she grumbled. “Can I at least know how much it costs so I can pay you back?”

“Why don’t we barter,” he suggested, running his tongue across the rim of her ear. “You let me buy you whatever I desire and in exchange you can reimburse me with your newly discovered talents. I think that should keep me in your debt for years to come.”

“So basically, I’ll be your whore?” She almost regretted saying the words as he stopped his delightful torture on her flesh and stared down at her.

“That is not what I meant.” His tone was filled with remorse. “I would never accuse you of anything so demeaning. I like buying gifts for those I love; I have the money and I like to use it. If the roles were reversed, would you feel any different?” Sandra thought about the situation from his point of view. If the roles were reversed and he needed something, would she deny buying it for him? The answer was simple - no.

“I guess I didn’t think of it like that,” she admitted and was instantly relieved as his arms relaxed around her again. “It’s just that I don’t rely on other people to support me. I’ve always paid for myself and if I can’t afford something, I don’t get it. It’s just that simple.”

“Here’s another simple truth. As my wife, I will buy you what I want, when I want. As my lover, I will buy you what pleases me and what I think you need. I’m not used to people denying me, so if I upset you by affording something that you would otherwise not have done for yourself, please be patient with me. I am still very new to this relationship stuff.” Sandra smiled. She could not remember ever being told off in such a polite manner before.

“Maybe it’s a learning process for both of us. As your wife, I will deny you from time to time in all areas of life and I will object to lavish spending, it’s just how I am. As your lover I will do no different. I’ve never had a boyfriend with money and I’m not sure how to accept it now. I will accept your buying me clothes tomorrow, but that is only because I don’t have anything else with me and I find myself needing some underwear.”

“I never said I would buy you underwear,” he teased. “I rather like you without them. But I will buy you a few outfits, enough to last throughout our trip since I doubt we’ll be anywhere near a washing machine for a while. Perhaps, I can talk you into letting me buy you a sexy negligee or teddy and hose, I love a woman in hose, high heels and nothing else; very sexy.” Sandra gasped softly, feeling his erection pressing against her backside.

“Mr. Ashford is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” She smiled as he thrust his hips toward her, making her very much aware of his arousal.

“Miss Dennis, I can assure you, I don’t carry a gun and I am not wearing pockets at the moment.” Sandra turned to face him, moving astride his hips and squirming at the hard evidence of his need pressing upward toward her.

“I don’t want to argue anymore,” she told him, wrapping her hand around his hard shaft and easing down across it.

Creighton moaned as her body quickly adjusted to his size, easing down on him lower. She began to move up and down on his erection; water splashing against the sides of the tub, but not over rim. Sandra leaned back, arching her front gently toward him allowing his mouth free range of her breasts. She moaned when he captured her hardened nipple between his teeth; biting, sucking and teasing it until she felt the familiar dizziness overtake her.

“I need you to not be mad at me anymore,” he whispered, wrapping her in his warm embrace, moving her hips down to meet his thrusts.

“I could never stay mad at you,” she assured him.  “It’s just that these feelings I have for you scare the hell out of me.”

“I feel exactly the same about you. Please don’t be frightened; we’ll work this out together.” He thrust into her harder and quicker, causing her to moan again. “I need you Sandra. Please my love, come with me.” She moaned again as he whispered his plea to her, his hard thrusting grew more urgent; water splashing against the side of the tub, the bubbles from the jets tickling her hips as she moved.

His fingers began searching and found the hidden, pulsating nub of her clitoris; rubbing and tugging gently until she started to moan. Within a few moments she was feeling the dizziness increase, her climax imminent and she clung to him, lifting herself off him and quickly ramming back down to absorb full contact of him as his hips thrust up to meet her. Again and again she moved, listening to his moans and then she felt it, the hard heat erupt within her as he filled her with his seed, her muscles tightened around him and she cried out spurring him to go deeper into her, growling primal and passionate.

Sandra collapsed into his neck as they clung together for several long moments, fighting to regain control of their breathing, slowly coming down from their euphoric release. She felt alive and warm in his arms and smiled as he growled, her hips moving enough to release him from her tight body. It was amazing all the things he could make her feel; all the things he could make her do.

“That was incredible,” she whispered against his neck, his arms holding her tightly against him.

“Every time I touch you it’s incredible.”

“You are an amazing man, how can any woman resist you?”

“You’re resisting me,” he said softly, causing her to frown.

“I’m not resisting you, well not fully. I’m just trying to be reasonable, logical. We haven’t known each but a few days, we just need to slow down a little.”

“I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.”  His hands wrapped tighter around her as his lips found hers, pressing hard and passionate against them.

Sandra sighed into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She wanted to believe him, she wanted to have him love her as much as she loved him, but she was terrified that he would soon wake up and realize how stupid he had been. Once things were corrected with The Don, his opinion may change and where would she be then? Alone on the French Riviera with only a suntan and a memory to take with her back to Kansas, just as Cathy had warned her.

With a thick towel around her head and the soft blue robe encasing her in luxury, Sandra retrieved her phone from her purse and reclined on the bed, pushing the number for her sister. She drew a deep breath and braced herself for the onslaught of Cathy’s inquisition.

“Sandra, is that you?” her sister asked, irritation echoing in her feminine tone.

“Hello Cathy,” Sandra answered, forcing as much calm into her own voice as she could muster.

“Where the hell have you been and why is that man answering your phone?”

“I was in the bath Cathy,” Sandra explained.

“Why aren’t you in your hotel? I called and they said you checked out. What the hell is going on over there?”

“My room was broken into while I was out. Creighton was considerate enough to offer me a place to stay.”

“I don’t trust him, Sandy. There’s something about this guy that doesn’t ring true. I think I should do a background on him.”

“Well I do trust him. He’s a wonderful, caring and much respected man.” Sandra glanced up as the door opened and Creighton walked through carrying a tray with their supper. “You do not need to investigate him.”

Creighton drew a deep breath and set the tray down across Sandra’s lap, taking the phone from her grip.

 “Catherine, this is Creighton Ashford,” he said glancing at Sandra who stared opened mouth at him.

“What the hell? Where’s Sandra?” Creighton removed the phone from his ear slightly and Sandra grimaced as she heard her sister shouting into the phone.

“What do you want to know about me?” he asked her returning the phone to his ear. He paused for a moment, smiling at Sandra.

“My Christian name Creighton, named after my maternal grandfather Creighton Armstrong, my middle name is William, named after my father. I have two older brothers, Derek and Andrew and two younger sisters, Sabrina and Irena. I am thirty-two years old, born the twenty-ninth of July to William and Emma Ashford, of Yorkshire England, but I currently own a five thousand square foot flat in London. You could say I am self-employed and I do not have the CIA, FBI or KGB looking for me. Now, would you like to know my blood type?”

Sandra bit her lip fighting back the laughter that threatened her composure, knowing full well her sister was about to have a coronary.

“I’ll let you speak with your sister now, but you’ll have to make it short. I plan on tying her to the bed and making savage love to her the remainder of the night.” Creighton handed the phone back to Sandra, smiling as she took it from him and placed it to her ear.

“Hello again,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Was he serious?” her sister asked in a stunned, quiet tone. “Are you in danger?”

“No Cathy, he was just kidding,” she assured her sister, forcing herself not to giggle at the expression on the man’s face that said
“Wanna bet?”

“I’ll download the pictures tonight and send them to you so you can see I’m safe and having a blast.” Sandra slipped her hand over the speaker of the phone and looked up to Creighton. “Do you have a computer I can borrow?” she asked him and watched as he walked into his office.

“Listen Cathy, I know you’re concerned, but there really is no need,” she began after he left the room. “I trust Creighton; he’s a good man and I feel like I’ve known him my entire life. He’s not hiding anything from me and he hasn’t done a single thing to make me mistrust him.”

“Sandy, I know you think you know what you’re doing, but you have no idea what European men are like,” Cathy said through the receiver. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I won’t. Creighton isn’t that type of man. I won’t be able to call you for a few days; we’re taking a road trip to Paris to meet up with some of his friends.”
Not exactly a lie
, she thought. “I’ll send the pictures to you tonight and I’ll call you as soon as I can. Tell Nana and Papa I send my love. Bye.” Sandra clicked the phone off before her sister had a chance to object, tossing it aside as Creighton walked back through with the computer.

“So let me guess, she thinks I’m a perverted European who stalks innocent young tourists and seduces them into surrendering their virginity to me, right?” he asked climbing up on the bed to sit next to her.

“Pretty much,” she giggled, slapping him on the bare arm. “I can’t believe you told her you were going to tie me up and make savage love to me.”

“Well I am, or at least I hope to, if you’re willing.”

“Of course I’m willing, but that doesn’t mean you have to tell everyone.”

“I didn’t tell everyone, I told your sister. She needed to know the type of man you’ve given yourself to. Besides, she’ll do her background and hopefully find some satisfaction in the knowledge that I’m not an escaped lunatic from the mental hospital.”

“After the past few days, I would say you’re not proving yourself exactly sane.”

“Why do you say that?” he frowned.

“You meet a woman on the beach and four days later you’re engaged to her. Most people would think you’re a few degrees shy of normal.” Creighton laughed taking the tray off her lap and dishing out their supper.

“I think the definition of normal is on an individual bases,” he told her with a broad smile. “I find myself quite normal.”

“In a perverted, deviant sort of way.”

A few hours later, they lay spread out across the bed completely naked, the kinky kit opened as they continued to sort through it. They had eaten supper in bed and sent the pictures of her vacation to her sister and grandparents. Sandra reviewed the pictures with Creighton, laughing over them, reliving the memories together. She had no idea he had taken so many photos of her parasailing and laughed at the expression on her face, a mixture of joy and fear. The pictures she had taken on their diving excursion were amazing, crystal clear and beautiful. They would keep her family talking about her trip for days to come.

They downloaded the many photos of Sandra modeling Sabrina’s gown as well, before e-mailing them to her. Creighton was delighted with all of them and insisted that his sister would undoubtedly achieve her grade without hesitation. Sandra had to admit, they were stunning; the gown was exquisite, the photos nicely done and even she couldn’t deny how elegant she appeared in the delicate material.

“Do you really like flogging women?” Sandra asked looking at the wooden handle with the strips of leather and beads. Creighton smiled at her, picking it up and trailed it slowly across her backside, as she lay stretched out beside him naked on the bed.

“Flogging isn’t as bad as it sounds,” he told her, watching her squirmed against the ticklish motion of the beads across her delicate skin.

“I’ve read about it and from I remember, it is very painful and in most cases lethal.”

“Only if it’s used improperly or for torture,” he assured her, trailing the beads and leather up her spine and back down to her buttocks again.

“Did your hayloft girl like being flogged?” she asked tightening her butt cheeks.

“Yes, she liked it a lot, but she was really into pain. She liked a lot of things I would never do to a woman.”

“Like what?”

“She liked hot wax, electrical shock, choking, ropes, fisting and heavy beating. She wasn’t happy unless her arse was so sore she couldn’t walk. She really liked genital clamps and she loved having her nipple piercings tied and pulled on. She liked to be shagged, hard. The rougher it was the more she liked it.”