Forsythe.
She was
right—a week wasn’t that long, and besides, it gave him time to visit the
island and make plans for their visit together. He somehow fancied she’d enjoy
getting fucked on a clifftop .
* * * * *
Nine days later
How the
hell did John Kent have this effect on her? Not that she was complaining, but
the mere sight of him waiting for her at St. Pancras Station was enough to set her cunt flowing, her clit tingling with anticipation
and her nipples to become hard enough to rub against her bra.
When he
smiled and stepped forward, she’d swear her knees wobbled. Not that the latter
mattered much with his arms around her and his mouth plastered on hers. She
hugged him back and parted her lips, pressing her tongue against his as every nerve
ending in her body responded to his presence.
“I’ve so
missed you,” she said as they both came up for air and he thoughtfully kept
hold of her. She wasn’t too sure she could rely on her legs just yet. And no
doubt he wanted to let her know just how hard he was and what she had waiting.
“Good,” he
replied. “I hoped you did as I missed you like hell.”
“It was
only a week.”
“Ten
days.”
“Nine, if
you don’t count today.”
“We’ll
make it nine then.” The look in his eyes and the wicked twist at the corner of
his mouth convinced her he wasn’t talking about twenty-four-hour periods.
“Nine, what?” Why did she have to ask? She’d find out soon enough.
“I’m
trying to decide.” He paused to grab her suitcase, good thing he did as she’d
all but forgotten about it, and, taking her hand, walked across the station and
toward the taxi rank. “Maybe my belt,” he continued, “it’s really been missing
your touch, or perhaps the occasion calls for a cane.”
“John! You
know how I feel about a cane.”
“Yes, my
love, I do. I don’t understand why women have such an aversion to a nice,
whippy cane.”
“Because a cane bloody well hurts!”
“And that,
my dear Ellen, is the whole point.”
They’d
joined the taxi queue, so she was not about to continue the conversation.
“I bought
a new one,” he went on, obviously not possessing her reticence. “Very slender
and supple, and I did try it on myself a few times, so I know just how much it
will suit.”
Him or her? She let out a deliberately long sigh.
Damn him,
he chuckled.
Of course
it was a bit illogical to protest when her clit throbbed in anticipation. Why?
She loathed and hated any cane, slender and supple or not. But
in John’s expert hands… She couldn’t hold back the smile, but nine?
Cripes!
“I thought
you’d prefer to eat in,” John said once they were settled in the taxi, his
thigh pressed against hers and his hand rested on her knee.
“Super.
I’m not that hungry.”
“An omelet and salad?”
“Perfect.”
It was so nice to have a man who cooked, and cooked very well at that.
“I really
wish you didn’t go away so much,” he said after a pause.
“What I
earn pays my rent and keeps me in silk undies.” He loved her underwear. Especially when they came off.
“You know
I’d gladly pay your rent and anything else you need.”
And he
could well afford it…but. “John, if I can’t stand on my own two feet, how could
kneel at yours?”
He went
silent. So, come to that, did she. That pretty much said it all.
He didn’t
say another word, but his hand moved from her knee to clasp hers, and when she
glanced sideways, he was smiling.
Ellen’s
words sunk in. Deep. Much as it rattled his need to
provide her everything, take care of her and pretty much orchestrate her entire
existence in and out of his bed, his playroom and his twisted fantasies, he
understood. Ellen needed to be utterly self-sufficient before she could
surrender completely, and to share in the surrender, he’d accept that. How
could he not? It was part of what made her so splendid. No, that wasn’t good enough, she was far, far more than a mere “splendid”, she
was
She was
right—a week wasn’t that long, and besides, it gave him time to visit the
island and make plans for their visit together. He somehow fancied she’d enjoy
getting fucked on a clifftop .
* * * * *
Nine days later
How the
hell did John Kent have this effect on her? Not that she was complaining, but
the mere sight of him waiting for her at St. Pancras Station was enough to set her cunt flowing, her clit tingling with anticipation
and her nipples to become hard enough to rub against her bra.
When he
smiled and stepped forward, she’d swear her knees wobbled. Not that the latter
mattered much with his arms around her and his mouth plastered on hers. She
hugged him back and parted her lips, pressing her tongue against his as every nerve
ending in her body responded to his presence.
“I’ve so
missed you,” she said as they both came up for air and he thoughtfully kept
hold of her. She wasn’t too sure she could rely on her legs just yet. And no
doubt he wanted to let her know just how hard he was and what she had waiting.
“Good,” he
replied. “I hoped you did as I missed you like hell.”
“It was
only a week.”
“Ten
days.”
“Nine, if
you don’t count today.”
“We’ll
make it nine then.” The look in his eyes and the wicked twist at the corner of
his mouth convinced her he wasn’t talking about twenty-four-hour periods.
“Nine, what?” Why did she have to ask? She’d find out soon enough.
“I’m
trying to decide.” He paused to grab her suitcase, good thing he did as she’d
all but forgotten about it, and, taking her hand, walked across the station and
toward the taxi rank. “Maybe my belt,” he continued, “it’s really been missing
your touch, or perhaps the occasion calls for a cane.”
“John! You
know how I feel about a cane.”
“Yes, my
love, I do. I don’t understand why women have such an aversion to a nice,
whippy cane.”
“Because a cane bloody well hurts!”
“And that,
my dear Ellen, is the whole point.”
They’d
joined the taxi queue, so she was not about to continue the conversation.
“I bought
a new one,” he went on, obviously not possessing her reticence. “Very slender
and supple, and I did try it on myself a few times, so I know just how much it
will suit.”
Him or her? She let out a deliberately long sigh.
Damn him,
he chuckled.
Of course
it was a bit illogical to protest when her clit throbbed in anticipation. Why?
She loathed and hated any cane, slender and supple or not. But
in John’s expert hands… She couldn’t hold back the smile, but nine?
Cripes!
“I thought
you’d prefer to eat in,” John said once they were settled in the taxi, his
thigh pressed against hers and his hand rested on her knee.
“Super.
I’m not that hungry.”
“An omelet and salad?”
“Perfect.”
It was so nice to have a man who cooked, and cooked very well at that.
“I really
wish you didn’t go away so much,” he said after a pause.
“What I
earn pays my rent and keeps me in silk undies.” He loved her underwear. Especially when they came off.
“You know
I’d gladly pay your rent and anything else you need.”
And he
could well afford it…but. “John, if I can’t stand on my own two feet, how could
kneel at yours?”
He went
silent. So, come to that, did she. That pretty much said it all.
He didn’t
say another word, but his hand moved from her knee to clasp hers, and when she
glanced sideways, he was smiling.
Ellen’s
words sunk in. Deep. Much as it rattled his need to
provide her everything, take care of her and pretty much orchestrate her entire
existence in and out of his bed, his playroom and his twisted fantasies, he
understood. Ellen needed to be utterly self-sufficient before she could
surrender completely, and to share in the surrender, he’d accept that. How
could he not? It was part of what made her so splendid. No, that wasn’t good enough, she was far, far more than a mere “splendid”, she
was
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