Brit Flick Sweethearts: A Rom-Com With Spanking (6 page)

That’s when it
hit her. Her sexual experiences may have been limited, but she was
a writer. She had read enough about the supposed ‘Dom/sub’
relationship in the new wave of women’s fiction (just for research
purposes and to keep abreast of the latest trend,
of course
)
to get it.

He wanted to
play some kind of sexual, weird power game with her. She
knew
she should get up, get dressed, and never look back. To
heck with Dahlia’s career.

She knew all
this, but still she did not move. There was something about the
look in his eye that compelled her to stay. He looked like a man in
charge, and it was intoxicating. She was so used to inept guys
fumbling and groping her body in a darkened room and smothering her
in slobbering kisses, that it was a real rush to feel that someone
had taken total control over her body. The fact that she was turned
on by this scared her more than anything.

In her quest to
be someone else it would seem she had turned into someone else
again entirely.

He sat down on
the bed and lightly trailed his fingertips over a nipple.
Involuntarily she flinched at his touch, her nerve endings jangled
with fear, shame and want.

“Arms above
your head,” he ordered in the same, hypnotic tone.

Shakily, she
did as he commanded. She had never felt more vulnerable or exposed
in her life.

Or so
horny.

“Leave one hand
above your head and touch your pussy with the other.”

His words
jolted something deep within her.

“I can’t do
that,” she said in horror.

“Yes, you
can.”

Gently but
firmly, he took hold of her wrist and placed her hand between her
legs. The wetness of her pussy instantly coated her fingers.

“Don’t be shy,
you have nothing to feel shy or ashamed about. You are beautiful,
you are perfect, your pussy is the most desirable I have ever seen.
And it looks so much more attractive without that ridiculous, porn
star wax job you used to have.”

Ever so gently,
he guided her fingers over the protruding little nub of her clit.
Sparks of shooting pleasure went coursing through her and she
trembled all over.

She realised
that his hand was no longer there and she was doing it all
herself.
She was actually masturbating in front of somebody
and her stomach somersaulted at the sheer sluttiness of it.

Oh God, what
the hell am I doing?

“Show me how
you like to touch yourself, it will tell me more about your body
than anything else.”

Doris continued
to rub in quick circular motions over her clit. She was pretty
straightforward when it came to masturbating, just direct clitoral
stimulation did it for her. She also liked to tense her thighs
together when she came, something she never did when she was with a
partner. She was doing that now, the intensity of the impending
orgasm sweeping through her at breakneck speed. Beads of sweat
broke out on her forehead, and she closed her eyes, a soft moan
escaping her lips.

“Stop,” he
said, placing a big hand over hers. “You are not to come yet.”

She opened her
eyes and blinked up at him, her pussy throbbing with unfulfilled
desire and her nerve endings twitching, greedy for release.

“Roll onto your
stomach.”

She knew what
was coming. He was going to spank her.

“Do what you
want, just don’t hurt me.”

“I will never
give more than you can take.”

His words
weren’t much comfort but she was too far gone along the road of
intense sexual arousal to even consider turning back now.

The air was
cool on her sweaty back when she turned over, and she shivered when
she felt his fingers lightly trail down her spine.

The first smack
on her buttocks made her cry out in surprise. It was a real stinger
of a slap that she felt down in her toes.

“Don’t hurt
me,” she repeated uselessly.

“No more than
you can take,” he said again.

He slapped her
five more times. Hard slaps, three blows delivered to each buttock
in turn. Each slap made her gasp and squirm, her hands entwining in
the bed linen, her mouth buried in the cushions to stifle her
screams. He was a lot rougher than he had been last night and by
the time he was through, her arse was
singing
.

I’m not
going to be able to sit down for a week
…

Yet the arse
spanking had gone no way whatsoever to dampening her lust. If
anything, it had enflamed it.

“Get on all
fours,” he ordered gruffly, manhandling her up onto her hands and
knees.

He positioned
himself behind her between her spread thighs, and she heard the
whizz
of the fly of his trousers unzipping.

She felt the
head of his stiff cock probe her arse crack and wet slit, guided by
his hand. Automatically she peered over her shoulder at him.

He fisted her
perfectly styled hair and forced her to look forwards, tilting her
head back slightly.

“Eyes
forward.”

He let go of
her hair and she didn’t look round again. She heard the sound of
what must have been a condom unwrapping and then she felt the
unmistakable sensation of a sheathed cock at her wet pussy. Her
disappointment at not feeling his skin on hers was short lived when
he drove into her in one easy motion.

His power over
her was absolute. As he pounded her wet and ready pussy, it
occurred to her that she hadn’t so much as even touched his cock.
Not even once. She hadn’t even seen it.

Then all
thoughts were driven from her mind with the violence of his
thrusts. He fucked her mercilessly, forcing her to collapse onto
her elbows to prevent herself from head butting the headboard.

It didn’t last
long. His movements grew more erratic, his hips slamming messily
into her as he came.

When he was
done she heard him unroll the condom and discard it, then he lay on
his back next to her. Unthinkingly she lay her head down on his
chest, revelling in the sensation of being so close to him. She
breathed in the warm, masculine scent of his chest through his
buttoned up shirt, could hear the ragged beat of his heart against
her ear. As if they had a mind of their own, her fingers unbuttoned
his shirt.

She sighed in
pleasure when they connected with his warm skin.

“You make me
lose control,” he said, catching her hand inside his shirt,
stopping her from caressing his skin and undoing any more
buttons.

“Is that so
terrible?”

Her reply
seemed to confuse him.

“I’m always in
charge.”

“I only want to
touch you, is that really so difficult for you to take?”

His hand went
slack on hers and she took that as an invitation to continue.

“My own orgasm
caught me unawares,” he said, as grave as can be.

Doris burst out
laughing.

“What’s so
funny?”

She wasn’t
sure, exactly. All she knew was that being with this man made her
feel light headed and giggly.

“Do you always
take yourself so seriously? My goodness, you had an orgasm, you
really need to lighten up.”

“Is that
right?”

“So are you
into all that BDSM stuff?”

“I believe that
sex is a lot more intense, the stronger the power imbalance,” he
replied.

“You mean man
all powerful, woman weak and trembling, right?”

“Yeah,
something like that.”

“You don’t like
a woman to take charge?”

“No, I can’t
say that would work for me.”

“Curt? Can I
ask you something?”

“Why not?
You’re doing a pretty good job of it so far.”

“Have you ever
had sex with a woman as an equal? Have you ever been with someone
where you haven’t played games in the bedroom?”

“Yeah. The
first time we were together.”

Doris stiffened
at the non-memory, jealousy seeping into her bones at the thought
of her twin sleeping with Curt.

“You said
yourself I was putting on an act.”

“Look, Dahlia,
what is this? Since when have you claimed to know so much about
deep and meaningful relationships?”

“I told you,
I’m not the same woman I used to be. Have you ever had sex with
someone where you were friends first and foremost?”

“No. Have
you?”

Yes, of course
she had. Doris’s relationships had always started out as
friendships. She had always hoped that lust would grow of such
solid roots, but it never had. She knew she was half right, though.
Without friendship, a relationship was doomed, she was convinced of
it.

“No,” she
replied, thinking of Dahlia’s string of soulless encounters. “But
I’d like to. I’d like to be with someone where we have mutual
respect for each other. I want the whole package. Friendship. Lust.
Respect.”

“I know what
you’re trying to do.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. You’re
trying to scare me off by sounding like you’re picking out the
engagement ring already.”

Was she dong
that? Maybe he had a point. It was more than that, though. If she
succumbed to his bullying, sexual games, she would be letting her
sister down. Dahlia deserved better than that. Well, maybe she
didn’t
deserve
it as such, but Doris wanted that for her. If
Curt used her, it would be another sordid sexual encounter to add
to Dahlia’s extensive list. When Dahlia got out of rehab and walked
on to her new film set, it should be with a co-star that respected
her.

“I have done
things in my life that I’m not proud of. But that doesn’t give you
the right to punish me. You’re using the sexual attraction I feel
towards you against me, and that’s not right.”

He fell silent
and she stiffened in his arms, her hand pulling away from his chest
that she had been stroking the entire time.

“Christ Dahlia,
since when did you decide you were a relationship expert? This is
the woman that had a threesome in a public toilet.”

“Will you let
that go already? Anyone would think that you were actually
jealous
.”

“What if I
am?”

His answer
surprised her.

My God. I do
believe he really is jealous
.

“What if I
promise not to do such terrible things again? It’s not like you and
me were an item when I did it. Stop punishing me, I feel bad enough
already about the things I’ve done in my past.”

“The new,
improved Dahlia,” he said softly.

“Yeah. I’ve
never asked you before,” she said, to change the subject more than
anything, “but what’s your real name?”

“You’re really
on a roll now, aren’t you? I would tell you, but then I’d have to
kill you.”

“Oh, go on,
I’ll make it worth your while.”

She writhed
against him, dropping soft kisses on his shoulder.

“OK, fine. If
you must know, it’s Cyril Godwin.”

“Cyril Godwin?”
Doris repeated, laughing. “That is so
geeky.
”

“Yeah, yeah,
laugh it up. So what’s your real name then?”

“Doris
Dean.”

Oh my God, I
can’t believe I just said that
…

“Doris? I think
that’s prettier than Dahlia.”

Doris was glad
she was lying on his shoulder so he couldn’t see her blushing. What
an
idiot.

“Dahlia sounds
more glamorous than Doris.”

“I like Doris.
I’m going to call you Doris from now on. In private, of
course.”

“No!” she
gasped her heart beating wildly. “If you call me Doris then I will
call you Cyril. In
public
.”

“Hey, why are
you being bitchy? It’s your name, isn’t it? It’s a nice name.”

I am such an
idiot.

“I just prefer
Dahlia.”

“And I prefer
Doris. Doris.”

“I’m sorry
Curt,
but I have to go. I promised I’d see Jeremy.”

“What is it
with you and your little agent? Do you see me surgically attached
to mine?”

“He’s managing
my career.”

“Yeah, and
that’s all you care about, isn’t it
Dahlia
?”

“I have to
go.”

When she had
been lying on his shoulder with her breasts hidden by her arm and
firmly tucked against his side, her nudity hadn’t been an issue.
But now, up on her feet, it really was.

Curt lay on his
back, the sheet draped across his middle and one hand casually
resting beneath his head. He watched her as she searched for her
clothes with as much dignity as she could muster.

“A car will
come to pick you up at eight tonight. Make sure you’re ready.”

“You’re so
arrogant,” she said, when her most private parts were hidden by
underwear. “Who says I want to meet you tonight?”

“Because you’re
the fabulous Dahlia Dean who will do
anything
for her
career.”

Hastily she
dressed and left him there in the bed, not daring to even glance at
him when she left the room for fear of what her eyes might
betray.

CHAPTER
FOUR

By the time she
had reached the foyer of the hotel and her heart had slowed to an
almost regular beat, she discovered she had no idea what she was
doing or where she was going.

I suppose I
should call Jeremy. I need to tell him that I let slip my ‘real’
name is Doris
…

When she
switched on her mobile she saw she had six missed calls form
Jeremy.

He picked up
after one ring.

“Doris. What
the hell are you playing at? Are you actually having sex with Curt
Gunner for real?”

“Hello Jeremy.
That’s none of your business.”

“I’ll take that
as a yes, then.”

There was
little reproach in his voice. She supposed that was because he was
used to people behaving badly.

“How did it go
with that journalist?” she asked, swiftly changing the subject. How
much does she know?”