The British Billionaire Bachelor, Act Three Page 5

  “I’m serious,” Lucinda declared. “Simon’s a big deal over here. He could arrange it!”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Simon’s voice declared, startling them. Neither of them had seen Simon and Joseph amble in the room, and Simon’s tone had an edge to it, an edge Belle knew all too well.

  “Oh, hi, I didn’t see you there,” Lucinda crooned, the pitch and tone of her voice instantly changing. “Are you sure, Simon, can’t we go to a club he might be at, something like that,” she pleaded.

  “No,” Simon replied.

  He’d delivered the refusal with such clipped energy, it was clear there would be no further discussion about the matter, and Lucinda, shocked at the repudiation, found herself turning red and reaching for a second crumpet, the one on her plate still uneaten.

  “Did you find your accommodations satisfactory?” he continued.

  “The rooms are fantastic, Simon, yes, thank you,” Lucinda managed, still embarrassed by his veiled reprimand. The truth was, she had been astounded by the suite Henry had led her to. It was a luxurious multi-roomed apartment, more spacious than her condo.

  “Good, glad to hear it. One thing I should mention, you have free reign of the house at any time, of course, but there are a number of areas that are completely vacant, and it’s quite easy for one to lose their way, so I would suggest staying within the immediate area.”

  “I can imagine,” Joseph chuckled. “I think we’d need a tour guide.”

  “There are still parts I haven’t seen,” Belle remarked.

  “Tomorrow night the four of us will have dinner,” Simon announced, a decree more than an invitation, “but Belle and I have a commitment, so we must say goodbye for the moment.”

  Lucinda glanced up at him. He was bigger than life, emanating power, and Joseph, standing next to him, seemed to share his confident aura. For a moment, she felt she was in over her head, and Joseph appeared far more like a successful businessman than a simple driver who was doubling as a bodyguard.

  “Joseph, the car is in the garage and Henry will give you the keys. Feel free to come and go as you please and enjoy the city. Call me if you need anything.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Sinclair,” Joseph replied, shaking his hand.

  “Belle?”

  “Yes, I’m ready,” she smiled, standing up and walking towards him. “I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day, Lucinda, and Joseph, thank you for taking care of my sister while she’s here.”

  “Entirely my pleasure,” he nodded.

  A few minutes later, as they settled into the Range Rover, Simon’s vehicle of choice while staying at City View, Belle buckled her seat belt, a wide smile on her face.

  “That was astonishing,” she declared. “You were absolutely right.”

  “I could tell. Poor Lucinda, she looked very frustrated,” Simon remarked.

  “It was so easy. Wow, how did you learn to do that?”

  “Business,” Simon replied. “I watch my opponents, I don’t engage them. It gives me the upper hand.”

  “That’s how I felt, like I had the upper hand. I’ve never, ever felt like that with my family, not ever.”

  He smiled at her, and leaned across the console, kissing her on the cheek.

  “It was well overdue,” he remarked, “and now that’s under control, I should tell you something else.”

  “That sounds ominous,” she commented.

  “Not for you, it’s not.”

  “Uh-oh, what?”

  “Joseph was telling me about a little scene Lucinda created on the plane, and apparently he threatened to put her over his knee if she didn’t behave.”

  “Whaaat?” Belle replied, shocked that Joseph would do such a thing.

  “I told him he should do just that, if a situation arose and he felt it appropriate.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Belle answered, her eyes wide.

  “You don’t have to say anything. I just thought you should know.”

  “My gosh, do you think he would?”

  “I don’t think Joseph is the type to make idle threats, so yes, I do.”

  Driving out on the street, heading towards City View, moving slowly through the busy traffic, Belle stared ahead, her head swimming.

  “You’re very quiet,” Simon remarked. “Penny?”

  “Just, well, I think this is going to be a very interesting two weeks.”

  “Yes, it will be that,” Simon agreed. “Absolutely.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Belle sighed happily as she cast her eye across the sparkling city below. Simon had arranged for dinner in the viewing deck, a place Belle held in reverence, not just because it was where Simon had proposed with the ring encased in a sponge cake created in the shape of Saturn, but because she had come to understand the immense, but quiet strength that could be garnered there.

  Standing at the expansive windows, allowing herself to be mesmerized by the thousands upon thousands of the city’s twinkling lights, the scattered clouds dusting the tops of the buildings illuminated by a waxing moon, she felt elevated, her spirit weightless.

  “I could look at this forever,” she said softly.

  Simon, standing next to her, put his arm around her shoulder.

  “That’s how I feel about you.”

  “Simon,” she smiled, turning to face him. “How can you be such a business dynamo, and yet so romantic?”

  “I’m not sure I was before I met you, a romantic, I mean.”

  “You must have been, it’s too natural, the words, the things you do, they seem to come to you so easily.”

  “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps the romantic in me was just sleeping, and you, Belle Somers, woke him up.”

  His lips found hers, their sparking chemistry surging through them as their kiss evolved, lips and tongues moving and dancing, Simon’s arms engulfing her as she dissolved into him, and finally dropping her head into the cavern of his shoulder, she breathed heavily, the loving, carnal heat flowing through sex.

  “There’s something I want to talk with you about,” Simon whispered, “something about us.”

  Belle felt a flutter of fear cross her heart, but as she pulled back and searched his eyes, the fear fell away; there was only love and need streaming back at her.

  “Anything,” she smiled.

  “The dungeon,” he began, and Belle could sense he was faltering, unable to find the words.

  “Simon? What is it? What about the dungeon?”

  “Not the dungeon exactly, what we do in the dungeon,” he frowned.

  “I love what we do in the dungeon, I mean, really,” she offered. This is weird. This isn’t like him at all.

  “I want to take what we do, I want to take you…further,” he managed, “but only if you want me to.”

  “Are you afraid of scaring me?” she asked, surprised at his reticence.

  “Not just scaring you, but I don’t want you to feel you have to say yes for fear of disappointing me. You wouldn’t, you couldn’t. I’m immensely happy, completely satisfied, so if you’d rather not…”

  “Simon, I trust you completely. Whatever it is…” then pausing, a thought drifted through her mind, “except one thing,” she added softly.

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t think I could share you,” she whispered.

  “Oh, no, that’s not it at all,” he replied quickly.

  “Then, yes, of course,” she smiled, “I would love to explore. Are you talking about things you’ve already done before, or…?”

  “What’s in my head, no, I haven’t. It will be new territory for us both, though I’ve lived various scenarios a hundred times in my head.”

  “Simon, this is thrilling, I’m tingling already. When can we start?” she asked gazing up at him willingly.

  “I don’t want to wait until Lucinda leaves, and I’d like to go back to Chatsworth Hall this weekend, so I’ll suggest to Joseph that he take her to Cambridge or Oxford.”

&nbs
p; “Perfect, wonderful, that’s brilliant,” Belle agreed enthusiastically.

  “Just the thought of this…” he breathed.

  Belle could feel his swollen member pressing against her, and dropping her hand, she fondled him through the soft wool of his trousers.

  “I can tell,” she purred.

  Groaning, he swept her up, and laying her on the wide, comfortable couch, whisked her dress up and her panties down, the sight of her red garter belt and black stockings inflaming his need, and touching between her legs he found her deliciously wet. Unzipping his trousers, he pulled himself out and laid himself over her, his cock falling between her legs.

  “Don’t you want to take off-?”

  “Not another word,” he growled.

  Lifting slightly, he moved his hand to his cock and placed himself at her entrance, and as he surged forward, he grabbed her wrists, pulling them above her head, then dropping his head to her neck, sucked hungrily as he fucked her, the relentless pounding washing her away.

  Belle had never been taken so swiftly, so demandingly, so powerfully, and the force and vigor of his rampant, loving attack was shooting her forward to her orgasm. The gentle, sweet, dominant lover she’d come to know, had been transformed into a charging warrior, conquering the damsel, filling her cunt with his carnal demand, refusing to take less than her utter capitulation. Even as she cried out her pleasure and shock, she could feel him growing ever more fervent, commanding her body release itself to him.

  “You come when I say,” his breath whistled in her ear.

  “Yes, Sir,” she wailed.

  His cock continued to pound her pussy, but as she felt her moment near, he slowed, changing his tempo, thrusting with tempered, even strokes, as though regrouping, readying itself for a new assault.

  “You’ll come when I say,” he repeated, his hands gripping her wrists.

  “Yes, Sir,” she breathed.

  She could feel his thrusts gradually accelerating, and she lost herself in his momentum, allowing him to carry her down the river to the inevitable waterfall. The rapids were becoming choppier, the speed of the flow ever escalating, and the white wash was everywhere. She was at the crest of the drop, the water swirling around her…

  “Now,” he commanded.

  His husky voice was deep and determined, jolting her over the edge, spinning her out of control, the shuddering spasms tumbling around and through her. His heavy groans were distant echoes, and when at last she sank into calmer waters, her body awash with a warm, quivering prickling, she realized she was laying on her side, cradled in his arms.

  “That was..so…intense,” she breathed.

  Her face was nestled against the ultra-soft micro-fiber of his winter sweater, and she could feel the thumping of his heart.

  “Yes,” he panted. “I’ve never done that…”

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” she replied, still trying to catch her breath.

  “What I did, no warming up, no undressing, just…taken what I wanted.”

  “It was incredible,” she sighed. “I’ve never had it happen like that either.”

  “I think, maybe, that marked the beginning,” he said quietly.

  “The beginning?”

  “Yes, the beginning of what I have in my head for you, for us. Your training.”

  Belle felt a wave of something she couldn’t quite identify. It wasn’t butterflies, it wasn’t trepidation, it wasn’t joy, then it came to her; it was an awakening, an awareness of a longing she didn’t even know she had.

  “Simon,” she whispered.

  “Yes, Belle?”

  “I’m going to belong to you, aren’t I? Like, belong differently than I do now.”

  “Yes, Belle, you are, if you want to.”

  “Can you tell me more?”

  “It’s something that has to evolve,” he replied gently, “and we must leave it at that.”

  “I understand,” she replied, finding solace in his eyes.

  She did understand, an understanding borne of instinct, and from the inexorable energy that lived between them.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Across town, not far from Simon’s house, Joseph and Lucinda were having dinner at a small Indian restaurant, selected by Joseph only because there was a parking space relatively close. The cold London drizzle had begun when they’d left the house, threatening to turn into more, and in spite of his suggestion that they should dine at the house and have an early night, Lucinda had insisted they go out,

  Sitting across from her, Joseph couldn’t complain. The meal had been delicious, and Lucinda had been relatively courteous, the result, Joseph assumed, of encroaching jet lag. The conversation had centered on her budding career, the film about to be released, and how she was hoping the studio would opt for an official opening with a big Premiere. The time had passed easily, their plates had been cleared, and the young waiter was waiting at their table for further orders.

  “Would you care for dessert?” he asked.

  “No, but I’d like another glass of wine,” Lucinda yawned.

  Joseph frowned. She’d already consumed two, and they were about to leave.

  “Very well, Madame, and you Sir?”

  “Nothing for me, thank you,” Joseph replied, and watched the waiter head to the bar.

  “I’ll be right back,” he remarked, rising from his seat.

  “Sure, whatever,” she replied, yawning again.

  Catching up to the waiter, he asked for an estimate of the bill, pulled out several notes to cover it including a generous tip, and instructed him to forget about the wine. Striding purposefully back to the table, Joseph picked up the coat Lucinda had draped over an empty chair next to her.

  “Time to leave,” he announced.

  “What? No, I’ve ordered another glass of wine,” she complained, turning around to face him.

  “It’s not coming. You’re already buzzed and exhausted, and it’s time to call it a night.”

  “Oh, for crap’s sake,” she scoffed, “I can drink a gallon of wine.”

  “I’m sure you can, but not on my watch,” he replied, and leaning down to whisper in her ear, he added, “you can walk out with me, or I’ll carry you, your choice.”

  “You’re impossible,” she snapped.

  Standing up, she snatched the coat from his hands and headed to the door, but unexpectedly tumbled into him, a wave of dizziness catching her off guard.

  “Shit,” she groaned, dropping her head in her hands.

  “A gallon, huh?” he remarked.

  “Shut up,” she replied tersely.

  “Come on,” he sighed, and putting his arm around her waist, helped her to the door.

  Stepping outside, the chilly night air and drenching drizzle wrapped around them, and he hustled her quickly to the car, driving carefully home through the slick, city streets. A short time later they were stepping into the dry warmth of the house, and Henry, a man Joseph was beginning to think was psychic, was standing just inside the door.

  “Nasty night, Sir,” the butler declared as Joseph removed her coat, then his own, hanging them on the hall tree.

  “Never thought to take an umbrella,” Joseph remarked. “I will next time.”

  “Yes, this time of year it is advisable,” Henry replied. “Would you care for anything, perhaps some warm milk for the young lady?”

  “I think some warm milk would be a very good idea,” Joseph smiled, “and some aspirin.”

  “You will find aspirin in the medicine cabinets of the bathrooms, Sir,” Henry offered, “and the milk will be brought up shortly.”

  Lucinda, who’d been staring at the floor and saying nothing during the exchange, lifted her head and ran her fingers through her hair.

  “I think I need to get upstairs,” she mumbled.

  “I’m sure you do,” Joseph commented.

  Taking her elbow he led her to the elevator, and as the doors closed, she leaned against the wall.

  “Tired?” he
asked.

  “I guess,” she replied. “It’s kind of creeping up on me.”

  Their suite of rooms was on the second floor just a short distance from the elevator, and as they entered the living room she walked immediately to the couch, flopped down, and let out a long sigh. Joseph was about to head to the bathroom for some aspirin, when glancing around, he thought the room looked different, though he wasn’t sure why.

  “Shit!” she exclaimed, breaking into his thoughts.

  “Just generally, or because you’re not feeling well?” Joseph asked.

  “Because I just remembered something,” she frowned.

  “And that is?” he inquired.

  “I forgot to leave a note for Jarrod.”

  “Jarrod?”

  “Jarrod Miller,” she replied impatiently. “Perhaps you’ve heard of him? He’s only the hottest actor in the business right now.”

  “You were supposed to leave him a note?”

  “Yeah, he wanted to come to my place and say goodbye, but I couldn’t deal with it so I told him I was leaving at 7:45, not 7, and I forgot to leave him a note.”

  “So he would have shown up?”

  “For sure. Shit. I’d better call him.”

  “It took you a long time to remember,” he remarked.

  “I had a lot going on,” she quipped.

  “Hmmm, you seem to be feeling better.”

  “I am, kind of, I dunno, maybe.”

  “You make your call. I’m going to freshen up and get you some aspirin.”

  Shaking his head he wandered from the room. If she was in a relationship with Jarrod Miller, it certainly wasn’t one based on love and consideration.

  Lucinda fished around in her bag, found her phone and dialed his number, a little ticked off that he’d not bothered to call and check on her. It rang a few times before it was answered, but the voice on the other end did not belong to Jarrod; it was soft and decidedly feminine.

  “Hello?”

  “Is Jarrod there?” Lucinda asked, deciding to wait before passing judgement.

  “He’s in the shower,” the voice replied, “and I guess I’m talking to Lucinda Somers?”

  “You are, and who are you, and why are you answering Jarrod’s phone?”