The British Billionaire Bachelor, Act Three (4 page)

When his fingers finally slithered between her lips, finding the area slick and wanting, she moaned and whimpered in response, salaciously rubbing her belly against his hungry cock.

“Sit on me,” he crooned.

“Simon, thank you,” she whimpered, rising from his lap.

Maneuvering her body around to face him, he took her hand and guided her fingers around his hardness, then clutching her burning, crimson cheeks, he guided her down.

Belle threw back her head, arched her back, and released herself to the direction of his hands, moving up and down as they dictated, relishing the deep, engulfing penetration, and when he dropped his mouth to her ripe melons, sucking and nibbling, her utterances of pleasure grew in intensity and joy.

Moving his hands to her back, he effortlessly leaned forward and lowered her on to the mattress, then grabbing her hips, yanked her into his pelvis. Thrusting forcefully, his cock pounding home, he could feel himself nearing his moment, and slowing down, closed his eyes, focusing on the delicious feel of her hot, juicy cunt.

“Simon,” she cooed, “it feels so amazing.”

“It does,” he replied breathlessly, “every time.”

“Please let me come,” she begged.

“In a minute,” he promised, not wanting it to end.

Her pussy pulsing against him, he thought for a moment he could come without moving a single muscle, without stroking, without doing anything except feel her throbbing walls swallow him, and decided very soon he would see if it was possible, then abruptly he withdrew, and surging forward, rode her mercilessly, until her cries of bliss were echoing around the room, uniting with his guttural groans from the exquisite climax shuddering through his body.

Moments later, as they lay blissfully breathless, he rose up, pulled the bedcovers over them, and nestled her in his arms.

“Feeling better?” he asked softly.

“So much better,” she purred. “Why does it make me calm?”

“Spanking you?”

“Yes, I don’t understand why it makes me feel, I don’t know, centered? Just better.”

“Could be many things,” he sighed. “I know it releases endorphins which promotes a feeling of well-being. It could be that it takes you over and you stop fretting, but I don’t think the ‘why’ is something that should be analyzed.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “It’s magic, that’s what it is, magic.”

“Do you remember what I told you when we were driving down to Chatsworth Hall that first time, after you’d run into Furio?”

“Um…wait…you mean when you said I’d bewitched you,” she smiled.

“There you have it, you bewitched me back then, and I’m still under your spell now, so yes, you’re right, it’s magic.”

“Well, Mr. Sinclair, I’m definitely under your spell, so you must be a warlock, or maybe a sorcerer…that’s it, Simon Sinclair, Supreme Sorcerer,” she declared.

“I’ve been called worse,” he grinned, “but Belle, why do you think your sister upsets you so much? You’re generally very levelheaded. What is it about her that makes you so edgy?”

Belle snuggled closer to his chest, seeking comfort in his warm strength.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I’ve never thought about it. Maybe it’s because she’s always stolen my thunder, or because she’s so frighteningly gorgeous and talented. She’s also incredibly unpredictable and I never know what’s going to come out of her mouth, or what she might do.”

“But she’s not dangerous, is she?”

“Depends on what you mean by dangerous. Is she Amaranth dangerous? No, but she has to be the center of attention wherever she goes, and she’ll do anything to make sure she is…oh…and when she loses her temper she throws things.”

“She throws things? She’d better not throw anything around here,” he said ominously.

“I hope you spank her if she does,” Belle replied, then quickly added, “can I take that back? I don’t want you spanking anyone else, ever.”

“That’s a promise,” he smiled, “but the three of us should have a few meals while she’s here. Maybe I could help the two of you somehow, or help her, or something.”

“She’ll behave if you’re there,” she yawned. “She won’t be herself.”

“Possibly,” he yawned in response.

“Been a long day,” she whispered.

“Hmmm, it has. Time for sleep.”

“Goodnight, Simon, I love you.”

“Goodnight, Belle, I love you too.”

J
oseph had been relegated to the back of the plane, Lucinda having decreed she’d be perfectly fine by herself in the front. Not only did it not bother him, he was glad of it, the separation affording him the privacy to study the dossier on Darren Hardcastle. When he finished one of the flight crew, a very attractive young woman named Tracy, served him a delicious dinner. Once the plates were cleared, the fatigue of the day finally caught up with him, and yawning, he freshened up, donned sweat pants, and crawled into one of the beds, dozing off almost instantly.

He was sleeping soundly when it happened.

The first jolt simply stirred him. He was used to turbulence, having flown many bumpy hours in transport planes as a Marine. It was the second jolt that caused him to frown and open his eyes. Sliding up the window cover he stared out at the night and saw they were flying through thick clouds.

“This is Captain Prentiss speaking. We’ve hit some weather, shouldn’t last long but please buckle up.”

The authoritative voice sounded calm and reassuring, but a moment later the plane abruptly dropped, and Joseph heard a scream. Leaping from the bed he staggered forward, but before he could reach the door to the front cabin it burst open, and a terrified Lucinda, dressed in only a skimpy satin nightie, threw herself at him, causing them both to tumble on to the floor. As Joseph broke her fall he grabbed her around the waist, then rolled them to their sides, holding her tightly, waiting for a calmer moment to move her to the safety of the bed, or one of the wide leather seats.

“Fuck, this is horrible,” she squealed in fright, burying her head in his chest.

“It’s okay, Lucinda, it’s just a bit of turbulence,” Joseph said reassuringly, feeling her body tremble against him.

The plane seemed to level, but then began bouncing around again, causing her to clutch at his arms.

“I’m so scared,” she stammered.

“Seriously, I’ve been in worse,” he promised,
though not much
. “Just think about a cork on the ocean, that’s what planes are like in wind. They bounce around, but they don’t sink.”

“Really?” she asked, her wide blue eyes lifting from his chest to stare into his, wanting desperately to believe him.

“Yep. I’ll bet over fifty planes have flown through this rough patch in the last couple of hours.”

“Fifty? You think…SHIT!”

The plane dropped again, and letting out a panic-stricken wail, she clung to him.

“Maybe not fifty, maybe thirty,” he offered, trying to keep his voice even.

“Please, God, please,” she prayed, “don’t let me die here.”

“You’re not going to die here, I swear,” he vowed.

“How can you be so sure?” she pressed, as the plane continued to bump around.

“In a few minutes we’ll be out of this, you’ll see, but I think we should buckle you in somewhere. Come on, let’s get you in a seat.”

“NO! Don’t leave me!”

“I’m not leaving you, come on,” he insisted, and holding her firmly around the waist, maneuvered her on to a seat and buckled her up, then climbed into the one opposite. Staring across at the horrified girl, he thought she looked more like a frightened fifteen-year-old than a twenty-something Hollywood actress with an attitude.

“Have you flown much?” she asked, her voice quaking.

“Tons. I was a Marine. This is nothing,” he replied.

“Doesn’t feel like nothing,” she quaked.

A moment later, as fast as it had begun, it was over.

“This is Captain Prentiss. I’ve managed to fly above the rough stuff. Should be smooth all the way to London. Sorry to have disturbed your sleep.”

“You see?” Joseph smiled. “No big deal.”

“I’m not sure I’d say that,” she said, shaking her head. “Sure as hell felt like a big deal.”

“Why don’t you have a drink to settle your nerves?” he suggested.

“Yeah, maybe. Champagne.”

“Of course,” he laughed.

“Why of course?” she frowned.

“Because I can’t imagine you drinking anything else,” he grinned.

“I don’t like it back here,” she complained, unbuckling her seat belt. “I’m going back up front.”

“Well, enjoy your drink, and if you need me I’ll be here,” Joseph said cordially.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “You’re not coming with me?”

“No, I’m fine right where I am,” he replied, “but if you want to go up front and have your champagne there, go right ahead.”

“Come with me,” she demanded. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Joseph let out a long sigh and shook his head.

“Lucinda,” he said quietly, leaning forward, “there’s a poem I learned as a child that you’d do well to remember…there are two little magic words, that can open any door with ease, one little word is thanks, and the other little word is please…”

“Oh, for goodness sake,” she sighed.

She stood up, and had just taken a step when the plane jolted, sending her tumbling, and with lightening reflexes Joseph bolted upright and caught her.

“Th-thanks,” she mumbled, staring at his chest.

His fingers were wrapped around her upper arms, gripping her tightly, and when she lifted her head he was staring down at her, his hazel eyes offering a message she couldn’t quite decipher.

“You’re welcome,” he mumbled.

It was a moment, one of those unfathomable moments, one of those ‘what is this’ moments, one of those moments when the walls fall away, and two souls connect.

“Please come with me,” she whispered.

“I’d be happy to,” he smiled.

Grabbing a shirt and quickly pulling it on, he placed a protective arm around her shoulders and guided her forward.

As they passed through the master bedroom, she grabbed her handbag, then her robe sitting on top of the tousled sheets, and wrapping it around her shoulders, she led the way into the main front cabin.

“What can I get you?” Tracey smiled, approaching them from the galley.

“Champagne,” Lucinda declared, as she and Joseph settled across from each other at the dining table.

“Orange juice, please,” Joseph smiled.

“That was terrifying,” Lucinda sighed, opening her bag and rummaging through the contents.

“What are you looking for?” he asked.

“Just…something…” she replied vaguely, finally pulling out a pill bottle.

“What’s that?” he frowned.

“Valium, no biggie,” she declared.

“May I see the bottle?”

“Sure. Have one.”

“Um, no, I don’t think so,” he said, studying the label. “Well, at least you don’t take them very often.”

“No, just when I’m fried, but why do you say that?”

“These expired over six months ago,” he remarked.

“Shit!” she snapped, reaching across and snatching them from his hand. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Staring at the tiny container, she scowled, then hurled it down the aisle way.

Joseph leaned back, and setting his elbow on the armrest of the seat, leaned his head sideways to rest on his closed hand.

Wow. She has absolutely no impulse control.

He was about to comment when Tracey arrived with the drinks, along with some finger sandwiches and appetizers.

“Just in case you feel like a nibble,” she said warmly.

“That’s very thoughtful, thank you,” Joseph smiled back.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” she finished, and headed back to the galley.

Lucinda picked up her champagne flute and drank a large swallow, but as she placed her glass back on the table, she noticed Joseph was staring at her.

“What?” she asked.

“Please go and pick that up,” he replied, moving his hand from the side of his head and pointing to the pill container laying a few feet beyond them.

“Why? It’s no good to me. The cleaners can get it when they tidy up the plane.”

“First, because you threw it, so you should be the one to go and get it, and second, because it’s a medication and should be properly disposed of.”

“Oh, please,” she groaned, rolling her eyes.

“Lucinda, you and I are going to spend the next two weeks together, and there’s only so much attitude I’ll tolerate,” he said softly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she frowned.

“It means, that little temper tantrum crossed my line, so you need to go and pick that up, or we’re going to have a problem.”

“You might have a problem, but I won’t,” she retorted.

“I think you might,” he nodded.

“Well, I won’t,” she repeated.

Slowly leaning forward, he grabbed her hand.

“Let go,” she demanded, trying to wriggle her fingers from his grasp.

“Lucinda, listen to me very carefully. Do you see the buttons on the side of my watch?”

The odd question caught her attention, which was exactly what it was designed to do.

“Yeah, what about them?”

“In just a few seconds I’m going to push one of them, which will start a one minute timer. When that minute is up, a chime will sound, and if you haven’t picked up that container and brought it back here by the time it does, I will take you into that bedroom, put you over my lap, and spank you.”

He had locked her eyes with the determined glint of a marine on a mission.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she whispered, flashing back to Jarrod’s similar promise just a day before.

“I think you know I would,” he nodded, “and just so we’re clear, I’m not talking about a few swats. If I take you back there I will spank you hard, and you’ll have to spend the rest of this flight laying on your side or standing up.”

“I’ll have you fired, I’ll never speak to you again,” she hissed.

“As Rhett Butler once said…quite frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn…” and releasing her hand, he ceremoniously lifted his wrist, pressed the button, and glared at her.

Lucinda felt the blood drain from her face, a slight tremble rumbled through her body, and an unfamiliar churning jumped to life in her stomach. She was many things, but she wasn’t stupid, and her instincts told her he meant every word he said, yet she couldn’t get her body to move.