The British Billionaire Bachelor, Act Three (11 page)

“I wouldn’t blame him,” Simon chuckled, pushing open the door.

Ambling in he picked up a large, thick, folded towel, and placing it on the edge of the tub he sat down and starting chuckling.

“What?” she asked,

“You’re a bodiless wonder,” he grinned.

She was covered in foam, her head the only visible part of her.

“I guess I am,” she laughed.

“You’d better start getting ready. We have to leave here in forty-five minutes.”

“I had no idea I’d been in here so long,” she sighed, “but there is something I want to mention first. Remember I told you I had an idea?”

“Yes, tell me, I’m all ears,” he nodded, “then you must make a move. You know how Hector Bardwell is about everyone arriving within ten minutes of the ETA.”

“He’s a funny old thing, but I do adore him,” she remarked.

“So…?” he pressed.

“You know I’ve spent the last couple of months dealing with the sale of my condo and getting all my things donated to charity or shipped here?”

“Yes, you’ve been a very busy girl,” he remarked.

“Now that’s all behind me, I’ve been thinking about what I’d like to do next, and I’ve made a decision, but it concerns you, and I need your blessing.”

“Sounds interesting, what is it?”

“What you said the other night, about taking what we do to another level, the timing is kind of amazing, because I’d like to write a book about us, about that part of us.”

“Really?” he exclaimed, both a question and a statement.

“I’d use an alias, of course, and I want to write it from my point of view, how I feel about the things you do to me, almost like a diary, or a chronicle. What do you think?”

“Belle, I think that’s fantastic, I really do,” he declared, and carefully leaned over the thick soapy foam to kiss her.

“YAY, I’m so glad,” she cheered. “Thank you, Simon.”

“You constantly surprise me.”

“I do?”

“Absolutely,” he grinned, “but now you need to get out of there and get yourself ready.”

“How’s the weather?” she asked, rising from the bubbles like a stunningly beautiful, naked, female Phoenix.

“Wet and cold,” he answered. “It’s London and it’s winter.”

“The last couple of days haven’t been bad,” she remarked as he picked up a towel and wrapped it around her.

“An aberration,” he replied, turning her around to face him. “You are so gorgeous. Do you realize you are gorgeous all the time?”

“No, I’m not,” she giggled.

“Yes, you are, and you’re not permitted to argue with me, remember?”

“You won’t let me forget!” she exclaimed.

“You’re being a bit cheeky for someone who’s going to get spanked at a cocktail party,” he warned, a wicked smile crossing his face.

“Who? Moi? Nooo, Simon, I’m just being my perfectly, gorgeous self,” she grinned.

Reaching behind her, he smacked her playfully, then shook his finger.

“If you’re not ready in thirty minutes…”

“Okay, okay. If you’d leave and not keep me talking…”

He shook his head, then kissed her dramatically before striding out the door.

A short time later, hair perfect and wearing an elegant, long-sleeved, black cocktail dress, diamond studs in her ears and carrying a Judith Lieber bag, Belle paraded into the living room. Simon let out a long whistle, and taking her hand, twirled her around.

“Look at you, lovely enough to utterly devour,” he grinned.

“Thank you, handsome Sir. You look pretty yummy yourself. I just love how men wear tuxedos to these parties,” she smiled. “I think you’re right. I think there is a Duchess in me waiting to be liberated.”

“Then, Duchess, our carriage awaits.”

They started towards the elevator, but she abruptly stopped and frowned.

“What?” he asked.

“Um, I’ll probably regret reminding you, but…your stick?” she muttered.

“Check your purse,” he nodded.

Clicking open the latch, she peered inside the bejeweled bag and saw the rod folded neatly inside.

“That one is brand new.”

“Love that,” she smiled.

“Everything from this point on, I will have bought just for you, with the exception of the items in the dungeon, but much of that has never been used.”

Closing her bag, she sighed heavily and stared up at him.

“If my hair wasn’t perfect, and I wasn’t wearing this lip gloss, my arms would be around your neck right now, smooching the life out of you.”

“You can smooch the life out of me when we get home,” he promised, and taking her hand he headed to the elevator.

Parker, Simon’s chauffeur, had the Rolls in the garage waiting, and was standing with the car door already open.

“He’s always so perfect,” she whispered as they approached. “He’s kind of amazing.”

“I pay him very well to be amazing,” Simon whispered back.

They climbed in, Belle taking care not to wrinkle the dress under her heavy coat.

“You know what the best part of tonight will be?” she murmured.

“Tell me,” he replied.

“Coming home and snuggling.”

“I agree with you,” he grinned.

They drove slowly through the city, Parker carefully guiding the large car through the narrow streets, his knowledge of London allowing him to avoid the Friday night traffic. As the impressive automobile came to a stop inside the gates of the stately home, a young man in a smart uniform holding an umbrella, hurried forward, opened the door, and carrying the brolly over their heads escorted them up the steps and into the house.

“Ah, Simon,” Lord Bardwell declared as Simon and Belle entered through the tall, double doors.

The jovial man was standing in the middle of the majestic foyer, his joy at greeting his guests abundantly evident.

“How is your lovely fiancee this evening?” he asked, taking Belle’s hand and kissing it.

“Just marvelous, and so happy to see you again,” she beamed.

A young maid stepped forward to take her coat as she slipped it from her shoulders.

“You are such a breath of fresh air,” Bardwell declared, “and one day very soon, Matilda and I are going to give a dinner party in honor of your engagement.”

“Hector, that’s too much trouble,” Simon protested.

“Trouble? My goodness, it would be a tremendous pleasure,” Lord Bardwell replied.

“Should we go in?” Simon asked, hearing other guests arriving behind him.

“Yes, yes, please do. There are some wonderfully tasty things on offer,” he smiled, gesturing towards the reception room.

“Thank goodness, I’m starving,” Belle whispered as they headed towards the gathering.

“Me too,” Simon nodded. “I should have come home sooner and taken you out for an early dinner.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m glad I’ve got an appetite. The food here is always delicious.”

“This is true,” he agreed, and seeing a buffet of delectable-looking items, took her elbow and headed towards it.

Many of Simon’s friends were in attendance, including Tyler Anderson. Belle had met most of them previously, and had found their welcoming warmth genuine and reassuring, but it was Tyler who sought them out. He was eager to talk Simon about the Darren Hardcastle situation, and Simon was just as eager to bring Tyler up to speed about Joseph’s first meeting with the conman.

The three became engrossed in conversation, and when an antique carriage clock sitting on the mantle subtly chimed, Belle glanced up and saw it was 7:45 p.m. The time had sailed past.

Simon glanced at her and winked, sending to life a new group of large butterflies, and as a waiter wandered by carrying a tray of champagne flutes, Belle unhesitatingly reached for one.

“Thirsty?” he winked.

“Something like that,” she replied, a slight flush crossing her face.

Over the next ten minutes she checked her watch frequently, and when at last it was 7:55, she touched Simon’s arm.

“Excuse me, it’s almost eight o’clock,” she said discreetly.

“Ah, yes, thank you, Belle. Tyler, I’m so sorry, I have to excuse myself,” Simon apologized.

Tyler, being a Dominant himself, and having observed Belle frequently checking her watch, smiled knowingly.

“I should probably go and find my wife. No doubt she’ll wondering where I am,” he nodded.

“Give her my best, and tell her we’ll be over to say hello shortly,” Simon smiled, and taking Belle’s hand began to move through the crowd, finding his host chatting to a small group of attentive listeners.

“Simon, there you are,” Lord Bardwell announced. “I was just telling Lydia here about the time in Africa when a herd of elephants wandered through our polo field,” he exclaimed.

“You have so many stories, Hector,” Simon grinned, “but may I have a quiet word?”

“Of course,” Hector replied, and excusing himself, took Simon and a slightly edgy Belle into a quiet corner.

“Dreadfully sorry to bother you about this,” Simon began, “but I’m expecting a call from overseas. Might I use your office? Shouldn’t take very long.”

“Yes, yes, no problem,” Hector nodded. “Do you remember where it is? Up the stairs, second door on the right.”

“I do, thank you,” Simon nodded, and led Belle across the foyer and up the stairs.

It had all happened so quickly, Belle was slightly breathless as they stopped at the door and Simon pushed it open. Stepping inside, Belle paused to take in the grandeur of her surroundings. It was a man’s room, with heavy coffered ceilings and a wall that was one huge bookcase. A large wooden desk with a forest green leather inlay demanded attention, but then she spied a chocolate brown, leather chesterfield sofa sitting grandly in front of the fireplace, and she could easily imagine herself curled up with a good book, the fire blazing.

“Simon, this office is incredible,” she exclaimed.

“Feels like you’ve stepped back in time, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, exactly,” she replied, slowly moving forward.

“I’ll bet this room has seen many interesting things over the decades,” he remarked.

“No doubt,” she sighed.

“And now, it’s about to see one more.”

Turning to face him, she felt a wave of submission and dropped her eyes. Her reaction touched his heart, causing a soft smile to cross his lips. He knew exactly where he wanted her and how he was going to apply the stick, but the moment was so warmly intimate he wanted to relish it for a moment. Staring at her, he soaked in the sweet, submissive sight, then finally ready he locked the door and walked across to her.

“Open your purse and hand me the rod.”

Clicking open the fastener of the glittering bag, she withdrew the stick and passed it to him, then stood nervously waiting for his next instruction. Her hunger was already making itself known, the hot wetness between her legs and her puckered nipples aching for attention.

“Place your elbows on the desk and arch your back,” he directed.

Moving quickly to the impressive desk, she flattened her palms on the cool leather, lowered her forearms so her elbows were touching the wooden edge, arched her back, and waited.

Simon’s cock was already standing at attention. Belle’s submissive demeanor had stirred it to life, and her position was one he’d dreamed of many times. The room, with its masculine energy, seemed ideal for the moment at hand, and though his office was contemporary and sleek, he much preferred the old-world ambience of Hector’s study.

Slowly he lifted her dress, and as he’d directed she was wearing no underwear, just the decadent suspenders that held up her stockings. Her naked bottom showed the fading marks of the previous night’s spanking, and had he been elsewhere he would have traced the outline with his fingertips, tickling her skin before landing the stick, but he needed to be quick, so he touched the miniature cane against her, warning of its impending delivery.

“Belle, you’re not to move or make a sound,” he said firmly.

“Yes, Sir,” she breathed.

Wanting the episode to be short and sharp, he landed six rapid cuts across the center of her backside, making sure not to cross the strikes, and though she gasped, she uttered not a peep, nor did she wiggle or squirm. Placing the stick back in her purse, he ran his hand across her cheeks and dropped his fingers to her sex.

“Mmmm, someone wants me,” he crooned.

“I do, Sir, very much.”

“You’ve been spanked twice, and not had the pleasure of my cock for over twenty-four hours. I can understand why.”

“I always want you, Sir,” she purred.

Her response sent a smile to his lips and a gentle pulsing through his loins, and though he longed to slither his fingers into her depths he resisted the temptation, the simple act too much sweet torture.

“You’re a very good girl, Belle,” he murmured, withdrawing his hand.

“Oooh, thank you, Sir,” she sighed.

“Soon you’ll have me again,” he promised.

Lifting herself up off the desk, she turned into him, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked softly.

“Not at all,” she answered, the stinging heat still firing the need between her legs, and as his arms wrapped around her, she sank into his chest, closing her eyes, never wanting the moment to end.

“How would you feel about driving down to Chatsworth Hall tonight, instead of tomorrow morning? Are you up for it?”

“Yes, definitely,” she smiled, pulling back and gazing up at him. “I’d love to wake up in that bedroom.”

“Do you have everything you need there?”

“Yes, I think so, and if I don’t we can always pop into the village. What about the staff?”

“No staff this weekend, just the two of us. I’ve contacted Bert and he knows we’re not to be disturbed.”

Bert Walker, a man whose family had been groundskeepers on the estate for generations, was Simon’s right-hand man.

“I’d love to visit him though, if that’s doable,” Belle suggested.

“Of course, him and those puppies,” Simon chuckled.

“You know I’m not a great cook, right?” she declared.

“I’m not really interested in your cooking,” he winked, “and I’m sure we’ll manage.”

“We don’t have a car here,” she realized.

“No problem,” he replied, pulling out his phone.

A quick call to Parker and the arrangements were made; the Range Rover would be waiting for them when they left.