The British Billionaire Bachelor, Act Three (20 page)

“I could add some corner time if you keep complaining,” he scolded.

“What’s corner time?”

“You stand in a corner for as long as I tell you and think about your behavior,” he replied.

“Oh.”

“Do you want me to add some corner time, say, twenty minutes, three times a day?”

“Nooo, please, nooo,” she begged.

“Then accept responsibility for what you did and the punishment that goes with it.”

“Okay,” she sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I really am sorry.”

“I’m glad you’re sorry. Now go and take a shower, get cleaned up, and I’ll order us up some dinner.”

Lucinda stared at him, then moving her arm around his neck, and sliding her body into his lap, she hugged him.

“Joseph?”

“Yes, Lucinda?”

“I don’t know, I just wanted to say your name.”

D
irectly after dinner, Joseph had retrieved a pad of paper and pen, and leaving Lucinda at the desk in her bedroom to write her first two letters of apology, he had returned to the living room. Pouring himself a scotch, he had turned on the television and zoned out. The days behind him had been intense, and the next few would be as well, so grabbing a couple of hours of downtime was essential.

Much later, when she demurely entered and padded across the room, wearing a thick, white, terry cloth robe and slippers, and bent over the back of the sofa, draping her arms around his neck, he felt his cock stir, and grabbing her wrists he kissed her hands, wishing he could pull her over the sofa and into his lap, but instead he immediately stood up.

“No hijinks, young lady,” he said firmly.

“Feels as if you’re being punished too,” she whispered, her eyes twinkling up at him.

“Don’t you worry about me, besides, I need the rest,” he smiled. “Are your letters finished?”

“Yes, all done. I wrote to Ellen and Theresa. Do you want to read them?”

“They’re not addressed to me. The letters are between you and the people you’ve wronged.”

“Oh, yes, I understand,” she nodded.

“Are you ready for bed?”

“I took a shower and everything, so uh-huh,” she replied quietly, knowing what that meant.

“Let’s go, it’s time for bottoms up,” he declared, taking her hand and leading her back into her bedroom.

“Are sure you-”

“Before you finish that sentence,” he warned, turning and facing her, “if I hear anything about not following through with your punishment, I will add the corner time. Now, is there something you want to say, or to ask me?”

Eyes wide, she shook her head.

“I thought not,” he remarked, and holding her hand tightly, continued into her bedroom.

“Take off your robe,” he directed, stepping back.

He watched her slide it off, and found she was naked but for black panties, and gritting his teeth, determined not to succumb to the tantalizing temptation, he instructed her to remain standing and place her hands on the bed.

“Stay right there,” he said firmly, and heading into her bathroom, pulled open the drawers until he found what he was looking for, a wooden hairbrush; the beautiful miscreant was deserving of more than just his hand.

Returning to her side, he locked his arm around her waist, and yanking her panties up and into her crack, began to apply the hairbrush with slow, sweeping swats.

He didn’t scold, he didn’t address her, he didn’t listen to her cries or pay attention to her stamping feet, and he didn’t ask her to count out the swats. She knew what she’d done, he knew exactly how much discipline he was going to administer, and anything in addition would be superfluous.

When her bottom was sufficiently red, and her whimpering had turned to yelping, he placed the brush on the night stand, gently guided her panties from their decadent hiding place back over her cheeks, and helped her climb between the sheets.

“Goodnight,” he smiled, kissing her on the forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Switching out the light, he walked softly from the room, and after turning off the lights in the living room, he closed and locked his door. If she couldn’t resist temptation and tried to sneak into his bed in the middle of the night, she’d be stymied, and with his pending call to Hardcastle he didn’t want to worry about being interrupted.

Setting his alarm for 3 a.m., placing the ball point pen recorder and the note with Darren’s scribbled telephone number next to the phone, he wandered into the shower, massaged himself to a quick and gratifying release, let the hot water wash away the day, and took himself to bed.

Darren Hardcastle was in a deep and heavy sleep when his telephone rang, startling him awake. Reaching across and squinting through half-open eyes, he saw a vaguely familiar number, and his clock told him it was just past 3 a.m. Grumbling himself up, he held the phone to his ear and muttered a greeting.

“Darren, it’s Joseph Cardinelli. You told me to call you when I had something for you,” Joseph said quietly. “Quite frankly, I’m a bit paranoid, so I want you to hear this now, and then I’m going to delete it.”

“What is it?” Darren asked, sitting up and switching on his bedside light.

“I have two things, and the first is a recording of a conversation I made late this afternoon.”

“Interesting. Let me hear it.”

“I’ll hold the recorder next to the phone. Here you go.”

Positioning the pen recorder against the microphone on his cell, he hit the play button, and listened to the somewhat scratchy sound of Simon’s voice.

“Yes, Tyler, that’s right. Tomorrow afternoon. Twelve million, all cash, and we transfer ownership by Friday. Thanks, keep me posted. I must have this land, Tyler. You know I’ve been searching for two years, and if I have any hope of keeping this rollout on schedule, we have to move fast. Thanks.”

Switching it off, Joseph put the phone back to his ear.

“That’s it,” he said.

“How did you manage to get it?” Darren asked gruffly.

“I just got lucky,” Joseph replied. “When Simon came back to the house and was having coffee with Belle and Lucinda, I snuck into his study and hid a small recorder behind a photograph. I just now recovered it. I didn’t even know he was going to go in there, but he did.”

“It’s helpful. Now I know how much he’s going to offer, and a time frame, but I still don’t where the bloody property is,” Darren declared.

“Um, I believe I have that information,” Joseph offered.

“You do?”

“That’s the second thing. When I picked up the recorder, I took the liberty of looking through his desk drawers and I found a pad of paper with some notes that seemed to fit. I took a photograph of it. I can show it to you tomorrow.”

“Text it to me.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Joseph replied, adding an edge to his voice. “I’ll show it to you tomorrow, after I get paid.”

There was a pause, and Joseph could hear the rustling of sheets, then a sigh.

“Same place, let’s say 10:30.”

“Hang on,” Joseph replied. “I need to check Lucinda’s schedule.”

Placing the phone on the nightstand, he waited a short time, then picked it back up.

“I’ll have about fifteen minutes. That should give us enough time.”

“Good work, I’ll see you there,” Darren declared brusquely, and ended the call.

Dropping his phone down, Darren felt his cock stir as a smirk crossed his face. Nothing turned him on like the smell of victory.

Looks like I’ve got you, Sinclair. Aren’t you in for a surprise? Twelve million, that means I have to offer twelve five. Ha. All I have to do now is figure out how much I’m going to squeeze out of you.

Stepping from the bed he pulled on his robe, ambled down the hallway to the room at the end, pushed open the door and turned on the light.

“Wakey, wakey,” he growled.

Shielding her eyes from the light, Katherine McManus stared across the room.

“Jeez, Darren. What time is it? Seriously?” she mumbled.

“Come on, up on your knees, you know how I like it,” he demanded, dropping his robe and pulling off his pajama bottoms.

“Fuck, Darren,” she groaned.

“That’s the idea,” he grinned. “Don’t be difficult. One call and your naughty naked body will be all over the tabloids, and then your daddy will smack your bottom, or disinherit you,” he chuckled. “Maybe both!”

“You’re gross,” she retorted.

“Careful, sweets, or maybe I’ll smack your bottom as well,” he warned, “now get naked.”

Crawling out of the sheets, she pulled her nightie over her head and positioned herself on her hands and knees.

“Aaahh, that’s better,” he declared, and ripping open his condom packet, sheathed himself, grabbed her hips and plunged forward.

“First thing in the morning, you’re going to the bank and bringing me back fifteen thousand pounds.”

“Whaaat?” she moaned.

“You heard me,” he snarled, pumping her furiously, and reaching under her he grabbed one of her breasts and savagely pinched a nipple.

“Ooowww, okay,” she wailed.

“That’s better, now move your ass,” he snarled, “this won’t take long, and then you can go back to your beauty sleep.”

Enjoy it while you can, you asshole.

As Darren was having his way with his current live-in girlfriend, Joseph was texting Simon, sending him a complete account of the phone call. He had just placed his phone back on the nightstand when he heard a noise. Quietly stepping from his bed he walked to his door and listened.

“Joseph, I see your light under the door. Are you awake?”

“Go back to bed, Lucinda,” he said sternly.

“Please will you open the door, just for a second…please?” she pleaded.

Rolling his eyes, Joseph walked quickly to his bed, pulled on a pair of sweatpants, and opened the door. Lucinda was standing in her white, terry cloth robe, looking tired and distraught.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I can’t sleep. I miss you. Can’t I please, please stay with you?”

“No, not until Wednesday night,” he said firmly.

“Who were you talking to?”

“Darren Hardcastle. Now go back to bed.”

“How come? Why are you talking to him so late?”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning. I’m tired. Go back to bed, and if I have to say that one more time, I will really whomp on your ass tomorrow night.”

“Don’t you miss me even a little bit?” she mewed, staring up at him.

“I miss Lucinda, the sexy woman, but I do not miss Lucinda, the naughty brat. You are really trying my patience,” he warned.

“Okay, I’m going,” she replied, “but think I’ll be able to sleep now that I’ve talked to you. Thank you, Joseph.”

“For what?”

“For making me miss you. I’ve never missed anyone before. It’s weird, and I like it, but in a way I don’t,” and standing on her toes she kissed his cheek.

Watching her amble away, Joseph shook his head. He’d never met a female like her. She was a difficult child, a sexy vixen, a real sweetheart, and a super smart woman, and could be any of them at any given time.

He closed the door, pulled off his sweatpants and crawled into bed, and as he turned off the light he realized he beginning to adore all four of them.

In their bedroom at City View, Belle was nestled against Simon’s body, sleeping soundly, Goldie laying on the floor by the bed, and when Simon’s phone buzzed on his nightstand, he reached across, read Joseph’s text and smiled; he was halfway home.

“Everything okay?” Belle mumbled, not opening her eyes.

“Ssshh, yes, go back to sleep,” he whispered.

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Simon?”

“Yes?”

“I really loved what we did yesterday.”

“Me too.”

“I love you so much, it hurts sometimes,” she purred, and a moment later, he felt her drift away.

“Me too,” he sighed, and sank into her warm, soft, luscious body.

W
hen Belle woke the following morning, she was laying on her side, Simon’s cock buried inside her, and moaning happily she pushed back against him.

“Rub yourself, bring yourself to a climax,” he softly whispered.

“Mmmm,” she murmured, dropping her hand between her legs.

Simon closed his eyes, relishing her succulent pussy. He adored how she felt, how she smelled, how she moaned and groaned and responded. His arm was around her waist, and he lifted his hand to fondle her breasts, gently tweaking her nipples, instantly eliciting a squeal of delight.

“Simon, fuck me,” she begged.

“No, just do as I ask sweetheart, I want to lay here and feel you pulse against me.”

Surrendering to his edict, she massaged her clit, and as his hand played and toyed with her breasts, and his lips kissed her neck, and he whispered his decadent feelings and promises of vague fantasies, the passionate buildup grew, until, arching her back, she wiggled her hips, rubbing her bottom against him, and clutching his hand pressed against her tits, she cried out, tumbling over the cliff.

The scintillating sensation was greater than he’d anticipated, her cunt sucking hungrily, and though it wasn’t enough to bring him all the way home, he sensed it could be if he held her at bay, allowing himself more time to reach his end.

She was wet and swollen, her pussy still gripping him, and he began to stroke with strong, powerful thrusts.

“Simon?” she gasped. “I think, I think…”

“Are you coming again?”

“Yes…yes…oh God…don’t…stop…”

She abruptly grabbed her pillow, bucked backwards, and wailed into its softness, her orgasm sudden and violent, her unexpected eruption propelling his hot stream into a rocketing explosion. He grit his teeth, groaning loudly as he surrendered to his intense release, riding the waves until the forceful convulsions broke apart and his flaccid member dropped away.

Moments later, she rolled over and nestled against him.

“Good golly, Miss Molly,” she moaned.

“I never want to leave this bed,” he sighed.

“Me either. Can’t we just ignore the world and stay here?”

“Don’t I wish,” he muttered. “It’s already late.”