My Naughty Little Secret (12 page)

When I returned, I opened my bag to check that my keys were there. I spotted my phone winking unanswered messages and checked the screen. Michael had sent me ten texts and I missed four calls from him. The panic must have shown on my face as Pauric asked, “What’s wrong, Vonnie?”

“Emm, not much, just about ten million missed calls and texts,” I said as calmly as I could. I seriously knew there would be hell to pay for this.

“What was that you were saying about the Irish and exaggeration?” he laughed.

I quickly fired off a text in reply, “Sorry, forgot phone in the car, landed safely and all well. In the pub.”

“We’ll discuss this later. I’m in bed,” was the curt reply. Oh, shit, not good…

Pauric arrived back from the bar with another drink. In the back end of nowhere, normal licensing laws didn’t apply, and to top it off his parents owned the pub, so there was no closing time for us. No harm, I had to forget those words. I knew I was in trouble. Part of me trembled, but the naughty part rebelled as usual. I knew it was going to be a
really
late night. When he leaned in to kiss me, I didn’t push him off. Hell, the damage was done already and I was full sure that next week was going to see the end of me and Michael. Luckily my common sense soon returned. I wasn’t going down that road. I kissed him one last time briefly, apologised for leading him up the garden path, and walked home.

At seven a.m. my mobile rang. I’d only had five hours of sleep and I had a heavy day of surfing and visiting planned. I was tempted to hit the reject, but I didn’t dare. It was Michael’s number and I’d already annoyed him enough. The guilt of my very brief interlude with Pauric didn’t help.

“Hello,” I slurred into the phone.

“Are you still in bed? If you were home on time last night, you wouldn’t be so groggy now. I thought you were surfing early today?” he barked.

That made me sit up and take notice, Michael wasn’t usually that crabby, and I didn’t know what had gotten into him. It was a good job he didn’t know exactly what I was at last night.

“What’s rattled your cage?” I asked, on the defensive. I knew it was the unanswered calls.

“Why didn’t you let me know you’d arrived safely?” he snapped. I quickly jumped out of bed. I was sharing a room with my sister and she didn’t need to hear this conversation. I had a good idea what was coming. Luckily the bathroom was vacant and I locked myself in.

“You’re going to have to be punished for your lack of consideration,” he warned. “On Sunday evening you must come here straight after your flight and I’ll deal with you then, but for now, wet your index finger.”

Already I could feel the fear and anticipation of the spanking, yet it was two days away. I could feel moisture glistening around my pussy. I did as I was told.

“Rub your clit, then when you’re nice and wet, put your finger into your cunt.”

I gasped. He knew I hated that word; he was deliberately shocking me. Yet I felt compelled to obey. Anyway, it was quite hot—being controlled in the bathroom of my childhood by a man hundreds of miles away. It felt very naughty and very exciting. I inserted my moistened finger into my vagina.

“It’s done,” I panted down the phone.

“Ok, now thrust it in and out until you come,” he ordered.

I thrust my finger as instructed and circled my clit with my thumb until the increased moisture foretold my impending orgasm. I could feel my knees go like jelly and I leaned against the outdated avocado green bathroom sink. My breathing quickened and just as I came, I could hear Michael barking his instruction down the phone.

“Now quickly, take your finger out and insert it in your anus.”

I spluttered and protested, but Michael was having none of it.

“Just do it, NOW,” he commanded in a voice that I didn’t dare refuse, even if the Irish Sea was separating us. I moved my hand back and with considerable discomfort inserted my finger in my bottom. From my disturbed breathing, Michael knew I had complied.

“Good girl; we’ll talk about this when you get back. You are to be panty-less when I meet you.” He hung up without another word. I climbed into the shower reluctantly and prepared for the day. My head was fuzzy. I’d had way too much to drink and way too little sleep, and added to that a good dose of embarrassment coupled with guilt. And I still had to face Pauric for surfing. And I couldn’t even think about what, if anything, I was going to tell Michael. I couldn’t even be trusted out of his sight for one weekend.

* * *

I dug out my surfing gear and was just about ready to roll as I heard the knock. I opened the front door sheepishly.

“About last night…” I greeted Pauric.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, as usual, it didn’t happen,” he answered with a resigned voice.

I looked at him and had a moment of clarity. Hell! It was always my fault it had never gone any further. I always did this. And he always put up with it. I was totally guilt-ridden; I had spent years playing this game with him, never considering how he felt about it. He was way too nice for someone like me.

“Why do you put up with me?” I asked guiltily.

“Dunno, I just keep hoping one day you won’t regret it.”

“Look, there’s someone in London; I shouldn’t have been with you last night. And we both always knew I’d leave here and you’d stay.”

“Yeah, but you might just come back when you’re done flying free…I want to be here when that happens.”

“And I might never come back; don’t waste your life waiting.”

“Come on, let’s go,” he coaxed, changing the subject. I realised he always did that too. The same old pattern over and over. But it was different now; there was Michael.

Usually when there was someone else on the scene for either of us, the other backed off. This was the first time either of us had cheated together. So one kiss wasn’t exactly cheating, but I still felt bad. I had hated it when Brian had cheated, and now I felt I was no better.

We hit the beach, suited up, and went out on the waves. The surfing was brilliant, really high rollers. I was flying high and had forgotten my row with Michael and my illicit kiss with Pauric. The adrenaline was pumping. I lost track of time and sense of responsibility. I rode every wave I could and as the stormy waters were rising, Pauric was trying to tell me to get off the water. Of course I didn’t listen and eventually hit a nasty breaker, got thrown off the board, and it snapped back, hitting me. I didn’t care. I was on a high. That was surfing, that was
bitchin’
. And those waves were the very reason surfers came to Easkey from all over Ireland and indeed Europe. Heaven. I was still high when I got home. Mam met me at the door.

“Your phone rang four times and I eventually answered it; who’s Michael?”

Feck, I could feel the high from the surfing drain away from my body. I really didn’t need another lecture. I couldn’t help wondering about the monster I had helped to create. But I also knew that if I wasn’t facing next week’s uncertainty, I would probably see it differently. I was confused as hell. And with all this insecurity hanging over me, I really didn’t want to be explaining his existence at home, as he could be gone within the week. For a moment or two, I really wished I could forget Michael, forget London, and settle for a quiet life in Easkey with Pauric, like my mother did with my dad, but deep down I knew that would never be me. I went into the deserted front room and called Michael with trepidation.

“Hi, you were looking for me,” I started nervously as he picked up.

“Hi yourself, I just missed you and was hoping to get to talk to you.”

I could feel the tension slip away from my body. I was glad the fight was over. I really liked nice Michael; it was just sometimes bossy Michael intimidated me. I liked bossy Michael too, but I didn’t want to be afraid of him. And above all else I hated not knowing what was going on in his head. We had a lot to sort out, but we were both hiding from something. I just wished I knew what it was.

Chapter Eleven

The rest of the weekend passed all too quickly and Sunday evening arrived with a bang. I arrived at Heathrow, panty-less as instructed. Michael was waiting for me at Heathrow.

“I’m sorry about Friday night,” I offered tentatively.

I knew I was in for a spanking as soon as I got to his apartment. I was nervous because he had been really angry with me. And if he knew what I had been at on Saturday night, he would be doubly angry. In fact, he might not have it in him to forgive me. And maybe I didn’t deserve to be forgiven. I figured the best thing to do was keep my mouth shut. I had to keep reminding myself it was only a couple of kisses and it wasn’t something I was planning on repeating.

“We’ll deal with that later. God, I missed you, Shiv. First I want to take you home and make love. I want to fill my senses with the essence of you, your smell, your taste…” he whispered.

I shivered in anticipation; I could feel the wetness flow. I blushed at the sensation, shamed for feeling like that in an airport, surrounded by people. I felt as if they all knew what was on my mind. Hand in hand we went to his car. Excitement and nervousness made my tummy all aflutter.

We barely made it in the door, dropping my weekend bag and teddy just inside the door, when Michael started urgently stripping my clothes off, followed by his. He smiled his satisfaction when he saw I was wearing no underwear, not even a bra, but he didn’t remark on it, his mouth was too busy tasting me to speak. It was a sensual feast and my five senses were alive. I could smell his slightly sweet but spicy masculinity. I filled my lungs with his scent. Visually, he was a picture, his tanned dark skin a sight for sore eyes, and I could hardly bear to avert my eyes from his glorious erection. His eyes were hot flames of desire. His skin was warm and smooth to the touch until the goose-pimples of anticipation took over, adding depth. His scratchy chin was rough but erotic on my tummy as he moved his mouth towards my sex. Our breathing was a cacophony of raspish desire filling the room with sounds of desperation. And finally the taste, aah, the salty musky taste of his arousal delighted the last of my five senses, driving me wild. I wanted him there and then, inside his doorway, on the floor. To hell with comfort; the need was immediate. I couldn’t wait to make it to his bedroom. I went down on my knees, sucking him until his own knees buckled in weakness. Then on all fours, I presented myself to him to be taken, which he did, without further ado.

It was as if we hadn’t seen each other for months, not days. He pushed in hard and fast, and with one hand stretched forward, he worked my wet swollen clit to a frenzy. Within seconds I had exploded with my first orgasm with his name on my lips. He released my clit and took my hair in his hand and, tugging gently, guided me over to a wall for support. I propped myself with my hands on the wall as he drove hard, holding my hips to steady himself. His fingers dug into me and I was aware of a slight pain as he thrust, but it only added to the pleasure. Then his hands roamed my body firmly and urgently as he paused his thrusting, trying to hold out on his orgasm. He wasn’t playing fair, he was making me weak, but he was holding back. I went back down on all fours, where I had more control. I plunged against him, hard and fast, and increased the tempo, rotating my hips to feel all of him. I knew when I was like that, he got carried away by the vista of my rear end and pussy, open and inviting, coaxing him in. All of a sudden I felt a sharp smack to my buttocks.

“Slow down, you wench, I know what you’re up to,” he whispered threateningly. I had to giggle, which earned me a few more sharp smacks. They were delicious.

“More,” I begged and he willingly obliged. My body was a quivering mass of desire as my bottom tingled and the blood rushed to my sex. I groaned with desire and that exquisite pleasure pain as he spanked me again and again. Five more times, bringing me closer and closer to another mind-blowing orgasm.

“Fuck, you’re one horny, dirty woman, and you’re mine,” he said, the delight evident in his voice.

His words of desire and possession drove me crazy. I couldn’t hold back any longer; as he pumped, my body crumpled, unable to contain itself against the violence of my cum. He supported me as he thrust again and again, not letting my orgasm subside until his own desire was sated. I arched my hips as I felt him spill his hot sperm deep into my vagina and I gloried in the triumph of his hunger. For that moment in time, he was me and I was him, we were as one, united in each other, spent and satisfied on his hall floor, still connected physically as well as emotionally.

Finally the cold hardness of the floor roused us out of our reverie. I kissed him as I rose, stiff from the exertion. As I was retrieving our clothes, he stopped me in my tracks.

“Don’t dress yet, Shiv,” he warned. “There’s still Friday to be dealt with.”

I felt the butterflies make an unwelcome return. Normally a spanking thrilled me and scared me in about equal measure. This was different. For starters I was already sexually spent, so the pain wasn’t going to be cushioned with desire. Secondly, this was different to usual as he was genuinely angry with me over not answering my phone, and although he didn’t know it, I had genuine remorse in my heart, because of the kiss. I felt I deserved it, and for that reason, instead of being a thrill, it was a frightening prospect. But I was going to accept it without a fight. I owed him that much.

“Yes, Michael,” I submissively agreed. I didn’t even start with my usual arguments against it. I gathered our clothes, went to his bedroom, and assumed the position: my torso lying on his bed, my hips raised by pillows, and my feet planted firmly on the floor. I put my hands above my head and vowed to myself that whatever he did, I would accept uncomplainingly and gratefully. I waited for him to join me and I’d swear he was letting me sweat on purpose as I could hear him go to the bathroom, then to the kitchen for a drink. The waiting increased my nerves. I heard him come into the room. He walked by me, pausing briefly to rub my raised bottom, which already had a glow from the sexual spanking. I heard him rummaging in his wardrobe and expected him to come back with the cane again. I was beginning to feel a little sick. I didn’t relish the thought of it.