The Pleasures of Spring (23 page)

‘Dom?’ he offered as he held out his hand.

She dropped a scrap of fabric into his open palm and waited, defiance written all over her face. Was this what all the fuss was about? A dress label?

He smoothed the fabric out.
Valentino
. ‘How much would it have cost with the label on?’

‘I don’t know. A few hundred, maybe.’

He examined the scrap of cloth. ‘How did you cut the label off so neatly?’

Reluctantly she held out the hoof pick. He pulled it out of her hand. ‘Jesus, I can’t believe you used my hoof pick to steal.’

‘I didn’t steal it,’ she insisted.

‘What would you call it then?’

He caught a glimpse of hurt in her eyes before she hid it. ‘I borrowed it so that I’d look good for your posh friends. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly a dress-up girl. I won’t be wearing any of this stuff afterwards.’

She pushed back her chair and hurried for the door.

She had said ‘afterwards’. Roz was already thinking of when this was over. When they stopped playing at being lovers and she was out of his life for good. Her words hit him like a slap. He remembered her meagre wardrobe in London. Until he’d taken her shopping, she barely had more than the clothes she stood up in. Roz always travelled light.

Andy raced after her and caught her in his arms, ignoring the glances from the middle-aged shoppers. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘Go to hell.’ She pushed against his chest, but he refused to release her.

Andy held her tightly until she calmed down. He kissed the top of her head. ‘That’s better. I can see that I’m going to have to do some more work on your trust issues. Tell
you what, let’s play again tonight. A fantasy each, no holds barred.’

The speculative look she gave him almost made him nervous. Roz was a kinky bitch but no match for him. Let her bring it on.

‘Okay, toss you later for who goes first.’

Poppy was chatting away at the bar when they returned. She hadn’t noticed that they had left. They settled down again, but Roz was quiet. Andy reached into his pocket and touched the velvet-covered box. While waiting for the phone to charge, he had wandered around an antique store and a small gold compact had caught his eye.

‘Gemini,’ the middle-aged assistant informed him, pointing out the pair of embossed faces that decorated the top.

Roz was a twin. He had almost forgotten that lately. The more he got to know her, the more he realized that she was nothing like her sister Sinead. How could he have ever thought that they were the same?

Sipping her coffee after their shopping, Roz busied herself checking out her new phone and admiring the Victorian décor of the Crown pub while trying not to remember the night before. Trust issues, her ass. What had Andy done to her? She scowled, trying to recreate what had happened. Her mind, usually so sharp and dependable, had shut down and she had been operating on pure hunger and instinct and emotion.

Yes, it had been the most amazing night of her life. She had given herself over to Andy, and he had given her an
experience unlike anything she had ever had before. She hankered for it again, but knew it couldn’t happen. Tonight, she would have to take control and turn the tables on him.

This was Andy McTavish. She sneaked a glimpse at him. He was flirting with the waitress who was taking their food, and those dark eyes were smiling warmly at her. It didn’t matter that the waitress was easily sixty years old. She was under his spell, assuring him that she’d get him exactly what he wanted, even though it wasn’t on the menu.

Andy didn’t do faithful. He was the guy who flirted with every woman at the party, the one who could make any woman he met feel special. Just as he had done to her last night.

She had to remember that the intensity of the connection between them wasn’t due to Andy having special feelings for her, it was because he was always this way with women.

To give him his due, Roz thought, trying to be objective, he was good at his job because he really did like women. He loved Poppy in a way that made Roz feel jealous. What must it be like to have a mother there for you, one who loved you no matter what?

She told herself that if Maggie O’Sullivan had lived, she would have been that sort of mother. Of course she would.

Her memories of her childhood were vague; odd snapshots of sharing a bed with Sinead because there was only one. She remembered eating cornflakes out of the box because there was no other food and petting the puppies
that lived beneath the hedge. She shivered when she thought of the icy cold caravan site in winter.

Her childhood had been like that because the O’Sullivans hated her dad. He had tried his best, but they had disapproved of him from the start. It had nothing to do with Maggie being a bad mother.

It was all the O’Sullivans’ fault that she had never had a mother like Poppy.

Andy adored Poppy, and his regard for her spread to all of the other women he met. He genuinely enjoyed women’s company and liked them. He was laughing as warmly at the waitress as he had at Isobel at the party last night. But that didn’t mean anything.

Andy McTavish was the ultimate one night stand. He was amazing in bed, and while he was with a woman, he could make her feel as if she was the only woman in the entire world. She had gotten lost in those amazing eyes, thought the dimple was for her alone, forgotten that she wasn’t the only one who loved feeling those abs. But while Roz could lie convincingly to everyone else, she didn’t believe in lying to herself.

Andy wasn’t for her. He would marry Ariana, or someone like her. Someone from the right family, someone educated and cultured. Roz liked to think that if he married, Andy would be a faithful husband, but she had seen too many men who played away.

There was no point getting involved with him. It would never lead to anything except heartbreak and disillusion. Andy would do his job. She trusted him one hundred per cent to keep her safe. But keep her heart safe? No way in
hell. It was time to remember that they moved in different worlds.

The phone that Andy had bought for her was already set up. Clever boy. Her old number was now ported over, so she opened up her address book and checked that her numbers were still there.

She usually rang her dad once a week to see how he was doing. She didn’t enjoy the conversations where he was full of schemes that were never going to work, particularly not with the Ramos brothers after him.

This was a call she wanted to make in private. She told Andy she needed the ladies, and locked herself into the wheelchair toilet before she called.

‘I’d like to speak to Peter Spring, please,’ she told the office. Ironic, after so many years using so many different names, he had been arrested under his own name.

‘Who is it?’

‘Roisin Spring, his daughter.’

There was a pause while the man searched through his list of allowed contacts, then he said, ‘You won’t be able to speak to him, but I’ll transfer you to the hospital wing.’

‘What?’ But before she could demand more details, she was listening to ‘
Greensleeves
’. It seemed to be ages before the phone was picked up at the other end and she could ask what was wrong with her father.

She lied to herself frantically – it was no more than something minor, an infection or flu – before the nurse told her the truth.

‘He was attacked in the yard,’ she said. ‘He’s got three broken ribs, twenty-three stitches and numerous contusions from kicks and blows. But he will recover.’

Roz clutched her phone. ‘What happened to him?’

The nurse sounded exasperated. ‘Your guess is as good as mine. Everyone swears they didn’t see it and the security camera was down. He says he doesn’t know who did it.’

‘Can I speak to him?’

‘He’s sleeping now. You can ring tomorrow or the next day. Don’t worry. He’ll be put into the protection unit until he’s released. They won’t get another chance at him.’

Roz hung up, promising to ring back soon. Damn, damn, damn. She knew exactly what had happened. The Ramos brothers had delivered a warning that they wanted their money or he wasn’t going to live long.

The thought of life without her dad was terrifying. He might be a giant pain in the ass, but he was the only relative she had who wanted anything to do with her. She was well aware that life would have been a lot easier for him if he had dumped her with the O’Sullivans, but her dad had always wanted her with him. He loved her. He had taken care of her.

Now it was her turn to look after him.

Roz stared at her reflection in the mirror blankly. She had to come up with half a million to get her dad out of hock and enough money to take care of Frankie. What the hell was she going to do now?

Andy lifted his eyes from his book to watch Roz emerge from the playroom. He should have known better than to play bar games with her. When Roz wagered, she never lost. He had promised her a fantasy and bet that she couldn’t Domme him. He was a fucking idiot.

Roz was being secretive all evening and he guessed that he was in for it. What would she have in mind? His cock stirred. Whatever it was, he was game. He knew that she had raided Maggie’s kitchen (luckily it was her night off), his mother’s workroom and his father’s wine cellar. It was looking very promising.

‘Need any help with that?’ he asked as Roz returned carrying a cloth-covered tray.

‘No thanks.’ She flashed him a smile that bordered on evil.

Yes, he was definitely in trouble. But it was the kind of trouble that he was looking forward to.

The sound of her steps on the stairs made him return his attention to his book. If she wasn’t going to tell him, there was nothing he could do about it. His cock begged to differ.

‘Go downstairs and wait for me.’

The stern voice made him respond, ‘Yes, ma’am.’

Andy stood up eagerly and moved towards the door to the dungeon.

‘Oh, and I want you naked.’ With that, she shut the library door behind her.

Punching the air, Andy hurried downstairs.

Fifteen minutes later he glanced at his watch. Did naked mean watch or no watch? He decided to put it away and added it to the pile of clothing in the corner. Anticipation tingled in his veins. What would he do tonight? Bondage? A light spanking? He wouldn’t hit her hard, not hard enough to leave a mark. Her skin was like warm cream. It would be a shame to bruise it.

A flogger, he decided. His red and black deerskin could be sensual or sadistic, depending on how hard he wielded it. For Roz, he would hold back. No marks, only a pretty pink glow.

The sound of heels on the stairs made his mouth water with anticipation. Roz had made him wait. He would add that to her list of sins. He folded his arms across his chest and waited for his submissive.

The door opened.

Holy mother of fuck!

‘Like it?’ her voice was almost a purr.

She was wearing a black velvet corset that showcased her breasts, turning them to quivering white globes. Underneath, a black suspender belt was attached to silk stockings and a tiny thong did nothing to conceal her gorgeous ass. He almost licked his lips. A phrase from his Catholic education came back to haunt him. An occasion of sin. Roz was all that and more. Vying for control he said, ‘Nice outfit. Shame you won’t be wearing it for long.’

Her blue eyes were glacier cold. ‘I think you’re forgetting something. Tonight is my fantasy.’

‘Baby,’ he began.

Her carmine lips tightened. ‘Don’t
baby
me.’

She was serious? Andy raised an eyebrow, waiting for the punch line. There was none and he swallowed. ‘I have a question.’

Her smile held a touch of pity. ‘You mean, may I ask a question, Mistress?’

Fuck and double fuck. She was serious about this. ‘What did you have in mind? Mistress.’

He kept the last word light, but almost choked on it. He had played a lot when he was the Dom, in charge, the boss. This was a new, uncharted world.

Roz lifted a cloth from the padded bench revealing an interesting collection of objects. An ice bucket, jars from the pantry, two squat candles, a bottle of massage oil and, if he wasn’t mistaken, vintage champagne. ‘Any problems?’

Relief washed over him. The bench contained nothing more than a good night in. He dropped his head to hide his smile. ‘No, Mistress.’

‘Good. Do you need a safe word?’

Andy lifted his head and raised one dark brow in warning. Was she joking? The firm line of her mouth told him that she wasn’t.

‘Bring it on.’ He held her gaze in a direct challenge. ‘Mistress,’ he added mockingly.

Roz sashayed towards him, her heels clicking on the flagstone floor. ‘I can see that you have an attitude problem. Let me take care of that for you. Turn and face the wall.’

Andy turned.

‘ “Red” is your safe word,’ she whispered before the first blow of the crop landed square across his bare buttocks and he flinched. The little –

Five more followed in quick succession, followed by another six. Harder this time, and Andy bit his lip as heat bloomed. She was really doing this. His cock stirred, rising to attention. No. He was not turned on by this. He wasn’t, but Christ, it was … Oh, god, it felt …

The blows stopped and he closed his eyes. He would play along with her. For now.

‘Like that?’ she whispered in his ear.

‘Not much.’

‘Good, I wouldn’t want you getting too comfortable. Lie down.’

Smiling, Andy took his place on the bed. She really thought she could Domme him? Roz was in for a surprise. He lay on the padded bench and waited to see what she would do next. The soft muslin had been ‘borrowed’ from Maggie’s pantry. Expecting that she would blindfold him, he was surprised when she raised his hands above his head and tied his wrists. The suggestion of restraint was more erotic than he had anticipated.

‘I thought you were going to blindfold me,’ he chuckled.

Roz shook her head. ‘No. I want you to know exactly what’s going to happen. I usually find that anticipation is half the pleasure.’

‘If you say so.’

Roz ignored him and turned her attention to the bench. She lit both candles and dimmed the lights before opening the oil and pouring a little into the palm of her hands.
She was right. His cock was already anticipating the touch of her hands and it rose to half mast.

‘So smooth,’ she said as she massaged the oil gently into his chest.

Andy heaved a sigh of pleasure. She was good at this. Why hadn’t they done it before? He would have to promote her to personal masseuse.

‘Like that?’

‘Mmm, yes.’

‘Good, because you may not like what’s coming next.’

His eyes flew open. Roz held the burning candle over his abdomen. Shit. He’d heard of guys who got off on wax play. He didn’t anticipate being one of them. ‘Baby, are you sure about this?’

‘I’m sure.’

The first drop landed square on his abdomen. The flare of heat quickly dissipated as the liquid wax turned into a solid blob.

‘You know,’ she said conversationally, ‘it’s not the pouring temperature but the impact temperature that matters. The closer I get to the skin the hotter it is.’ To prove her point, she brought the candle closer and poured a single drop.

‘Sweet suffering –’

Andy bit down on the last word. It didn’t burn exactly. The melted soy wax was no worse than stepping into a hot bath, but the anticipation of where and when the droplets might fall next made him shiver. Andy noticed how careful she was not to tease areas where his skin was thinner. He grunted when she allowed some wax to fall on skin which hadn’t been oiled. That hurt like a bitch.

He lost track of time. Trails of pale wax snaked over his skin, vibrant against his tan, layering over each other like strands of rope. Was this what it was like to be at someone else’s mercy? He wasn’t helpless. He could rip the muslin from his wrists in seconds. No, he decided. It was a mental thing, the giving up of control to someone else. Surrender.

Andy jerked when another drop landed on his chest and the movement pulled on his skin, sending a mild sensation of pain along his nerve endings.

She was definitely a witch.

‘Poor baby,’ she said with a throaty purr. ‘Maybe we should try something else.’

He sighed with relief when she replaced the candle on the bench. The flickering flames cast eerie shadows on the walls and ceilings of the cellar room. Andy closed his eyes.

An icy cold sensation against his nipples made him jerk to attention. His sudden movement made the wax break, pulling and tugging against his skin. She had done it on purpose. ‘You evil …’

Roz laughed and pulled away. ‘What’s the matter, can’t a big strong Ranger cope with a little ice-cube? I thought you were meant to be tough.’

‘I’ll show you how tough I am. My hands are especially hard. In fact, one palm is very itchy.’

‘Promises, promises. I have a few more treats and then you can rest. Now, close your eyes.’

Andy cheated, watching her through lowered lashes as she tugged the cellophane from two paintbrushes before opening the jars she had brought from the pantry. He doubted if Maggie or his mother would be pleased with
what Roz intended to do with them. Excitement thrummed in his abdomen and the blood rushed south.

The sable brush was featherlike against his skin, teasing his nipple to attention. He loved women’s breasts, adored their fleshy softness, but who would have known that his own nipples could be so sensitive?

He caught the faint scent of chocolate before the brush made contact with his nipples again, circling and teasing him so that he wanted to shake off his bindings and ravish her until she screamed.

A warm, hot mouth fastened on his nipple and he arched off the bed as she licked and nibbled the tender flesh until he was mindless.

‘Did I mention that I love chocolate?’

‘I’ll keep it in mind,’ he gasped.

‘But not as much as I love something else.’

Slow, slick strokes circled his nipples. Not chocolate this time. Andy sniffed, trying to figure out what she had used, but the blooming warmth on his skin confirmed his worst suspicions. Chilli.

‘Fuck.’ He almost arched off the bench. ‘That stings.’

‘Use your safe word then.’

There was no way on god’s earth that he was doing that. He gritted his teeth as the heat increased. It was worse than the candle wax, much worse.

‘Need help with that?’

Her impish grin made him want to bite something, preferably her ass. ‘I wouldn’t mind.’

‘Good.’ She lowered her head and fastened it on his burning flesh, licking and flicking her tongue, circling the tender skin.

Finally, she released him. ‘We lived over an Indian take away for a couple of years when I was a kid. Since then, nothing is too hot for me.’

‘Really?’ That was a challenge if he ever heard one. If Roz thought she could out-kink him, she was mistaken. Ms Spring was about to get a lesson she wouldn’t forget. Not for a long while.

He ripped the muslin binding from his wrists and sat up. ‘If you’re finished playing, I think it’s my turn.’

Roz had been so high on what she was doing to him, seeing how he was reacting and getting into his experience, that she had forgotten their bet. Now she had to let him do anything he wanted to her. His fantasy.

What had he in mind? Suddenly she was nervous, and wondered if she should have played with the wax. Who knew how he would take his revenge?

‘What are you going to do?’ She was proud she managed to keep the tremble out of her voice. She was used to being in control. This would always have been difficult for her, never mind after what they had just done.

‘Get you naked first,’ he said, and proceeded to strip off her scant clothing with ruthless speed. It had taken her twenty minutes to lace herself into the corset. He had her out of it in twenty seconds.

‘What now?’ she asked, standing before him.

‘Don’t worry, you’ll like it.’ He held up a heavy silver chain. She studied it with an expert eye. It was almost certainly antique, probably Victorian, smooth with age and frequent wear. She tried to price the chain if she were to
sell it and reckoned it would fetch at least a couple of thousand. It was much longer than the Alberts she was used to, but too short for anything kinky.

But then, Andy McTavish took kinky to a new level.

‘What have you in mind?'’

He guided her to the divan and handed the chain to her. It was cool and slightly damp. ‘It’s wet.’

‘I sterilized it.’ He slid her back on the divan, making sure she was comfortable. Somehow, it didn’t reassure her. ‘You can warm it up in your hands. I don’t want you to be cold.’

She shut her mouth with a snap. She wasn’t going to ask. He was enjoying this too much. Bloody smart-alec Irishman. She didn’t even comment when he opened a cabinet and took out a bottle of Liquid Silk, but tried to look bored.

‘Now lie back and enjoy. Do I need to tie you?’