WET 2: London: A Steamy Holiday Romance Read online

  Contents

  Title Information

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Eiplogue

  A Word From Maggie

  Catalogue #1

  Catalogue #2

  Catalogue #3

  Catalogue #4

  WET 2

  London

  Maggie Carpenter

  Copyright © 2019 Dark Secrets Press

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Dark Secrets Press LLC.

  http://www.MaggieCarpenter.com

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  Maggie Carpenter's Books

  https://www.Amazon.com/author/maggiecarpenter

  CHAPTER ONE

  Though thrilled to be traveling to London with Duncan Rhys-Davies, the handsome British dominant Brittany Carter met on her cruise, after nineteen hours in the air she was utterly exhausted. Leaning against his shoulder on their drive into the famous city she could barely keep her eyes open.

  "I don't know how you slept on the flights," she mumbled as another yawn swept over her.

  "Practice. I can sleep in a courtroom with my eyes open. Did you get any rest?"

  "No, not really, and I'm feeling strange. Wired, but absolutely wiped out."

  "We'll be home soon, but you should try to stay awake until the sun goes down. It will help you adjust."

  "Not a chance," she muttered, yawing again, "but I'm sure I'll sleep until morning."

  "I hope you're right. We only have three days before I have to start thinking about going back to work."

  "I'll be fine," she assured him, nestling into him and closing her eyes.

  As she molded against his shoulder, he thought back to their extraordinary meeting on the ship. Finding a beautiful young woman hiding in his stateroom was the last thing he'd expected, and her obvious desire to be spanked had been even more surprising. In the salacious days that followed, her fervent need to submit had bordered on astonishing. In her sweet, Southern Belle style, she had seduced him as much as he'd seduced her. Unable to call their time together a whimsical shipboard romance and say goodbye, he'd invited her to join him for a week in London. The spontaneous gesture was out of character. He wasn't the spontaneous type. As the car pulled to a stop in front of his house, he withdrew his keys from his carry-on bag. The driver had moved quickly to open the car door, and as she climbed out, he heard her grumbling about needing a shower and a bed.

  "I'll open the front door. Please bring the luggage and leave it in the foyer," Duncan said to the driver as he followed her. "I have to pop upstairs, but I'll only be a minute."

  "Yes, Sir."

  Brittany had already climbed up the steps and was leaning against the door. Hurrying to join her, he unbolted the locks, ushered her inside, and moved quickly in behind her to turn off the alarm.

  "Duncan, this is great," she murmured, staring around the foyer. "I really like the black and white tile floor, it's so British, not that I know much about British things, but it looks like pictures I've seen, and television shows too. I'll bet you have really good tea here. Tea and crumpets. I've always wanted tea and crumpets. I'm surprised they didn't have crumpets on the ship. Aren't you supposed to smother them with honey and butter?"

  "Brittany, you're babbling," he said with a grin. "Come upstairs with me."

  "Do you have a shower in this house?"

  "Of course," he replied patiently, noticing she was unsteady on her feet, "but you need to focus on putting one foot in front of the other if you're going to get there safely."

  With an arm around her waist he walked her slowly up to the second floor, then guided her down the hallway to the double doors that led into his bedroom.

  "Here we are," he declared, pushing them open. "I'll clear out some drawers for you."

  "That looks inviting," she muttered, spying the dark mahogany, heavily carved, canopied bed. "It's positively royal, and wow, those are amazing," she added, lifting her gaze to the ceiling beams.

  "The sooner you take that shower, the sooner you'll be able to lie down," he said smoothly, moving her toward the bathroom.

  "Oh, my gosh!"

  Her tired eyes widened as she entered. Staring at the white marble counter, the wide mirror in the ornate silver frame, and the unique bathtub encased in highly polished wood, she let out a small gasp.

  "I've never seen anything like this. I don't even know what to say."

  "I'm particular, Brittany, as you will learn, but that's a conversation for another time. Towels are in this cabinet," he continued, stepping towards a row of cupboards, "and you'll find anything else you might need in the drawers. Feel free to help yourself."

  "You're...um…even more than I thought," she said softly, then letting out a sigh, she added, "Sorry, my brain isn't working very well."

  "You poor thing, you're wiped out. I have to deal with the driver. Get undressed and put your clothes in that hamper, then take a shower. I'll join you in a minute."

  "Duncan," she said wearily, gazing up at him, "this feels like some kind of dream."

  "I hope it's a dream come true."

  "It sure feels like it."

  "Get undressed, or must I spank you already?" he teased with a grin. "I'm sure you'll feel much better after you've washed away the grime from the trip."

  "Spank me? No, I'm too tired to be spanked."

  "You may be too tired to be spanked, but I'll never be too tired to do the spanking," he warned, wagging his finger at her, then planting a quick soft kiss, he strode from the room.

  Peeling off her clothes, she stepped into the large stall and stood for a moment, slightly bewildered.

  "I know I'm not thinking clearly, but what the hell?" she muttered, staring at the chrome holes in the marble walls. "Am I about to be body-sprayed?"

  Reaching forward to turn on the faucets, she spied two of them labeled, STEAM. Realizing the shower doubled as a steam room, but too tired to experiment, she turned the regular knobs and hoped for the best. To her relief water splashed over her from a waterfall spout above her head, and closing her eyes, she stood for a moment, relishing the joy of the hot spray. When she heard Duncan return, she wiped the steam off the glass and waved as he began to undress.

  "Care for some company?" he asked, opening the door and stepping in.

  "That was quick."

  "I had incentive," he replied with a grin, taking her into his arms.

  "I can't find any soap, or even a spa dish."

  "That's because I don't have either, but I do have shower gel."

  Reaching past her shoulder he pushed the wall. To her amazement the marble tile turned inward revealing a shelf holding several plastic bottles.

  "Here you'll find everything you need. Bath gel, shampoo, conditioner, shaving gel, and what's this?" he said with a frown. "Ah, yes. I bought this just before I left. Lemon-basil Foaming Lotion. I thought it sound
ed rather appealing."

  Lifting the face cloth from the rack behind the products, he pumped out the exotic gel and began to move it across her shoulders.

  "I love that smell," she murmured. "Good choice."

  "I'm glad you approve. Turn around and place your hands on the wall."

  "I...uh..."

  "You're not going to start being difficult already, are you?"

  "No, no, it's just, I'm so worn out."

  "Stop worrying. I'm going to give you a quick wash and put you to bed."

  "I've never had a man wash me before. It's weird."

  "Everything is weird, as you put it, if you choose for it to be. Behave or I shall make good on my threat and spank you."

  "No you won't, you're not that mean," she retorted, though half-heartedly, then did as he said, turning around and resting her palms on the smooth marble. "Mmm, it does feel good," she admitted, as he moved the soft, foamy towel across her skin.

  "Of course it does. Close your eyes, take a deep breath and relax."

  Moving the soapy washcloth down her back, he slipped it quickly into the cleft between her cheeks, and though she uttered a small cry of protest, he dallied for a moment pulling it away, wringing it out and hanging it back on its holder.

  "Poor, tired, girl," he crooned, pumping more gel into his hands.

  Rubbing his hands together and creating copious suds, he slid his palms across her breasts.

  "That feels good too," she moaned, closing her eyes and leaning against the wall.

  Lightly pinching her nipples, he slipped his other hand between her legs to rub her clit, evoking a loud groan.

  "As I suspected," he said softly. "You're a passionate soul, Brittany, your body will always give you away. You're wetter than the water dribbling down your skin."

  "It's almost as if you know me better than I know myself."

  "Perhaps I do," he whispered. "Be a good girl and let yourself go."

  Pushing his finger gently into her channel, he sought out the hidden button deep within. Her sudden bleating told him he'd found it, and rubbing her clit with one hand as he massaged the magic spot with the other, he quickly brought her to a shuddering climax. Holding her until she slowly lifted her head, he reached behind her and turned off the faucets.

  "Do you feel better?"

  "Much, thank you, Duncan, but I swear I could pass out."

  "Come on, I'll towel you off."

  Taking her hand, he led her from the stall and sat her on the edge of the tub, then began wiping her off.

  "There's a hair dryer in the middle drawer," he said, wrapping the bath sheet around her.

  "I'm not sure I even have enough energy, to dry my hair I mean."

  "Do your best."

  "I really do need to sleep. I can't stay up. I just can't."

  "All right, Brittany, I'll turn the bed down for you. Hopefully you'll just take a nap and wake up."

  Grabbing a towel of his own and wrapping it around his waist, he left the bathroom and ambled across to his bed. As he moved the decorative pillows to a nearby chair, and pulled down the covers, he heard the sound of the dryer.

  "You're going to be up at midnight, and be completely washed out all day tomorrow," he muttered to himself. "Ah well, there's nothing to be done about it."

  Wandering across to his antique chest of drawers, he pulled out one of his soft, cotton T-shirts, and was about to leave it on the bed for her, when he heard the dryer switch off. A moment later she appeared in the doorway wearing his robe.

  "Not a hundred percent dry, but close," she said, padding across to the bed. "Is that T-shirt for me?"

  "It is, unless you'd prefer to sleep naked."

  "Honestly, I don't care," she sighed, pulling off the robe and crawling between the sheets.

  "If you wake up in a couple of hours, try to get out of bed. You really do need to adjust. Going to sleep now isn't the best plan."

  "I have to," she replied with a frown, puffing up one of the pillows. "Aren't you joining me?"

  "No, I'll finish my shower, then run out to do some errands."

  "I don't know how you can stay awake."

  "I'll check on you when I get back," he promised, pulling the bed covers over her.

  He stood over her as she closed her eyes and rolled on her side, then heading back to the bathroom, he dropped his towel and returned to the stall. Soaping Brittany's gorgeous body and bringing her to a climax had left Duncan with a raging erection. Standing under the steaming water and stroking his rigid cock, he imagined her wrists bound above her head and her nipples clamped. In mere moments he groaned through a powerful orgasm, then leaned against the wall and let out a satisfied sigh.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The weather during the cruise had been warm and sunny, and though Duncan had enjoyed the tropical conditions, he found it comforting to return to the London drizzle and grey skies. It was May, in the low sixties, and as a few drops of rain splattered against the windows he broke into a smile. He was home.

  Dressing in comfortable slacks and a sweater, he moved quietly past his sleeping beauty, softly closed the door, and trotted down the stairs. Grabbing his trench coat from the hall tree, and his umbrella from the antique stand, he headed off to the local shops. After sitting in an aircraft for too many hours he needed the walk, and striding purposefully down the street he thought about the days ahead. He was due back in his office on Tuesday, and assuming Brittany would still be bone-tired the following day, he'd have Sunday and Monday to whisk her around the city. He wanted to share his favorite restaurants, and continue the salacious play they'd enjoyed on the cruise.

  "But where do we go from there?" he muttered as he turned the corner and the local shopping area came into view. "I can't think about that. I won't. One way or another things will develop."

  Stepping inside the small, family owned grocery, he picked up a basket and began to search out the crumpets.

  "Duncan, welcome home," the portly, middle-aged shopkeeper said. "You're so tanned. You must have had good weather."

  "Thanks, Charlie, and yes, I did. The sun was out almost the entire time."

  "The wife wants to take a holiday to the tropics, but it's so far away. I keep asking her, why travel all that distance when we have France and Spain at our doorstep? What do you think, Duncan? Is it worth the hours in the air and the extra cost?"

  "It is for me. Papeete is truly a different world, and when I'm at sea my life here at London feels a million miles away."

  "A cruise. I admit that does appeal to me. She keeps talking about that as well. Can I help you find something? You seem to be searching."

  "Crumpets!"

  "They aren't with the bread. They're on the other side next to the cakes."

  "Thanks. Is there a brand you'd recommend?" Duncan asked as he wandered through the aisles.

  "I only carry Warburton's. Can't go past Warburton's, at least according to the wife."

  * * * * * * * * * *

  Lost in an alien desert, Brittany wandered aimlessly up and down the pink sand dunes, the sun blazing overhead. Her Chanel sunglasses provided little protection from the glare, and opening her bag, she searched out her bottle of water. Not only did she discover the water bottle was gone, the bag itself was completely empty.

  The desert suddenly transformed into a crowded department store. It was hot, there were people everywhere, and she was sure if she couldn't find a place to sit down and have something to drink she would faint. The throngs crowded around her. She couldn't breathe. She was suffocating…

  Bolting upright, her eyes popped open. With her heart thundering in her chest, she stared around the strange room in complete panic. A couple of seconds ticked by before she remembered she was in London with Duncan. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself.

  "Man, that was weird, and I'm so hot," she mumbled, throwing back the bed coverings. "Water—I've got to find some water."

&n
bsp; Stumbling out of bed, she made her way unsteadily into the bathroom, splashed her face, then dipping her mouth under the spout she let the water flow. Finally straightening up, she stared at her reflection. Her complexion was blotchy and her eyes were red. Wishing she had a bottle of water to leave on the nightstand, and finding no glasses on the counter to fill, she padded back into the bedroom and noticed the T-shirt Duncan had offered sitting on a chair. Tossing it over her head, she started off in search of the kitchen. As she made her way unsteadily down the stairs, she admired the collection of black and white, artfully framed blowups of famous stars from Hollywood's golden era. Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall were among them. Finally reaching the foyer, an elegant living room sat to her left, and a doorway to her right. The closed door stirred her curiosity, just as Duncan's cabin had done during the cruise. Unable to resist, she wrapped her fingers around the brass handle and pushed it down. The door floated open, and peering inside she caught her breath. Standing against the wall like a proud, wooden creature, was an extraordinary piece of furniture.

  Slowly moving forward, she stood in front of it and ran the tips of her fingers across the reddish-brown, highly polished, glossy wood. The piece was at least six feet high, the upper half was barrel-shaped, like a roll-top desk, but it was unlike any roll-top desk she'd ever seen. Adorned with heavily carved panels, it also boasted winged horses flanking a finial above a sloped ledge at the top, and intricate carvings danced in front of her eyes wherever they fell.

  "It's called a Wooten."

  Spinning around, Duncan stood in the doorway holding a bag of groceries in each hand.

  "I...uh...I was looking for the kitchen. I woke up dying of thirst."

  "And you thought the kitchen would be next to the front door?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

  "Sorry. I'm still a bit out of it."

  "As it so happens I'm headed to the kitchen myself. I just picked you up some crumpets."