The Final Act (#4 Bestselling Spotlight Series) (2 page)

BOOK: The Final Act (#4 Bestselling Spotlight Series)
11.12Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

He slides himself back and forward against me, teasing me.
“I can feel how badly you want to be fucked,” he murmurs.

I moan aloud. The heat of his thighs against my ass add a new
dimension of sensation.

“You took your beating very well,” says
James. “Let’s see how you respond to the second part of your disciplining.”

Oh no.
The second part?

“Your punishment f
uck,” he clarifies. And then he thrusts hard inside me in one insistent movement.

“Aaaahhh!”
Every part of my body balls up into one pulsing centre of lust. And all of me is focused on James Berkeley’s hard body.

I feel myself softening, absorbing as he takes me fast and urgently. His hands move to pin down my shoulders, and he slams me relentlessly.

“James!” I’m hardly aware of what I’m saying as he takes my body without mercy, without restraint. In the boiling whirl of lust and desire, his movements are almost frightening. I never knew he could take me this hard.

I am bent over, and he stands upright, using my shoulders to slam forcefully into me, again and again. There’s no kissing or tenderness. Just straight carnal fucking.

As if sensing my anxiety, James leans forward and pauses, hard and deep inside me. I feel my body quiver around him. He makes a line of gentle kisses along the side of my face.

Then I see his hand close on the
whip again and feel my breath tighten.

“No more beating,” James
murmurs. “But I have another use for this.”

With an assured single arm, he moves me back so there is space between me and the hay bale.

Then he positions the whip handle between my legs. He uses the narrow tip to seek out my clitoris, and I hear myself gasp.

“Since this is a punishment fuck,” he murmurs, “
it’s only appropriate that I use this on you. And you are so very,
very
wet. I think the whip will work very well.”

He twitches it, and a riot of sensations come alive across my clitoris.
I moan, unable to speak as my body lifts towards orgasm.

“Not yet,” he growls, and then his other hand is pushing me down again,
and his body is taking me hard.

T
hen the whip end twists against me, and I feel myself erupt.

Golden shafts of light run down the length of my body, and
every inch of my skin bursts into glorious hot pleasure.


Ahhhh!” My entire lower half is shuddering in climax, and my upper body is limp, and lost.

“Issy!” gasps James, and then I feel his hands tighten on me as his body gives itself up to satisfaction.

He drops forward, covering my body with his, breathing heavily into me. Then his arms are wrapped around me.

I turn so we’re cuddled up, facing one another, and he buries his head into my neck. The position is so un-James-like, so little boyish, that I wrap my arms tightly across his back, pulling him close.

His breathing slows, and he clasps at me – a desperate, comfort-seeking gesture.

Have I brought him closer by
allowing him to whip me?

I rock him slightly, and kiss his tousled brown hair, burying my mouth against his scalp. I hear him make a little moan of happiness.

Is this what I can give him?

It’s such a strikingly odd situation. A moment ago, he was beating the hell out of my naked rear. Now he’s snuggled up against me, like I’m his sole source of comfort in the world.

I stroke his hair gently.

This wonderful, complex man has done so much for me. Could I do this for him? Is it too much to ask?

But I feel myself shaking my head at the thought. I don’t want to be beaten. Not like that.

Mentally
, I examine my butt. The bright heat has settled to something more like a pulsing throb. I don’t know if I’m bruised. But I’m sure the whole area is flame red.

In my arms, James
stills, and I feel, rather than hear, a different energy from him.

I remember how he was swinging the
whip, and a burst of unease shoots through me. He felt different then. Not like the man I’m used to.

As if sensing a change in my mood, James shifts to bring his
eyes to meet mine. He catches my expression. And his face twists in horror. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so vulnerable.

“James?” I pull him closer in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

H
e kisses my mouth.

“Issy,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”
He sounds desperate. Distraught. So unlike his usual commanding self.

“I hurt you,” h
e says. “I frightened you. I could see it in your eyes just then.”

I say nothing in reply. Because he’s right. Something about what we just did has
given me some uncomfortable feelings. The truth is, I don’t know if I can take being beaten to be what James needs.

“Talk to me,” he begs, his green eyes locked on mine. “Please.”

“You did hurt me,” I admit. “It was different to… to what we’ve done before.”

He looks absolutely crushed.

“Before, you would tease me,” I explain. “It was more about the idea of discipline and punishment. I felt as though something changed in you today.”

I sigh, and retighten my arms against him. “But I think it’s helped you feel closer to me too.” I frown, trying to think how best
to put my thoughts into words. “I’m frightened,” I admit, after a moment. “Because I want to help you… come out of yourself. Open up. But I don’t know if I could take being beaten. If that’s what you need.”

I am staring straight into his face now, radiating my love for him through my eyes. “I though
t I could do anything for you,” I conclude, in a whisper, “but I don’t know if I’m strong enough… for that.”

James
pauses for a moment, and then to my deep distress, his eyes fill with tears.

“Issy,” he whispers, “Issy, Issy, Issy. My brave
, beautiful girl. Just by being you… You do so much for me.”

He moves his hand up and strokes my face.

“How could you think,” he adds, “that I would need to beat you to be happy?”

“Don’t you?”
This surprises me. Because I always thought that our physical relationship was part of what helped him open up.

“No!” The fire in his voice takes me by surprise. “You are the most precious thing in the world to me.” A jolt of joy sears through me. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he adds, “
I want to... explore you. In every way.”


Does it make you feel closer to me,” I ask, “making me submit to your will?”

I remember one of our earlier conversations.
James explaining he was an old-fashioned man.

“You are my girlfriend
, Issy,” James says, “and that means your safety and happiness is in my hands.” His voice sounds stern. “It also means I am entitled to take you in hand, if I see fit.”

Oh.

“And this… taking in hand,” I venture, “is that part of your wanting to be in control always?”

We’ve discussed his controlling nature before. And he’d agreed to try and curb some of it. The old-fashioned part, at least.

James closes his eyes tight, as though he’s in pain. “In the beginning, that might have been part of it,” he admits, opening his eyes again. “And your bravery… words can’t describe the admiration I feel for you – the sheer humility that your openness brings.”

His green eyes are on mine now,
alive with sincerity.

“It’s unbelievable, the gift of your faith in me,” he says. “I feel like a mortal man in the presence of a Goddess.”

He does?
Wow.
I flush with pleasure. I never knew my faith in him touched him so deeply.

James nods at the unspoken question in my voice.

“You make me better than I ever thought I could be,” he says. “Your love makes me a man. Better than a man. With you at my side, I feel… I feel as though I can do the impossible. I would move heaven and earth to keep you happy, Issy. I could tear down a mountain to make you safe.”

Tears
spring to my eyes, and I’m kissing his face.

“I love you,” I reply. Because truly, I am so choked with what he’s just told me, that I can hardly say anything else.

This man loves me so much.

Then James’s face darkens.
“Something about being back at the estate,” he whispers. “I don’t know. I think it was a need to drive away memories. It just took hold of me. I… I wasn’t in control.”

Exorcising demons. With a
horse whip.

H
e looks so ashamed. “Issy, please forgive me. I hate myself. I can’t stand that I would hurt you.”

He runs his hand softly
onto my buttocks. The heat has gone out of them now, but they’re still sore.

“Do they hurt?” he asks softly.

I shake my head. “Not so much.”

I remember his nightmares
, his being sent away from home and blamed for his mother’s death. And just like that, my love for him is strong enough to overcome anything. Whatever it takes, I will stand by this man.

“Do you… Do you think it will happen again?” I ask.

Does he need to beat me?

James
shakes his head firmly. “My pleasure comes from your pleasure,” he says. “I like to help you explore your submissive side because I think you enjoy it.”

He’s examining my face as he says this, checking in.

I nod slowly.

Yes. I do.

“I told you before, I have an addictive nature,” he adds. “And this sexual side of me. It was something I became addicted to, at one point in my life. I found that creating submission in those who desired it was a useful outlet for my demons.”

James is looking away from me now, and I feel the closeness slipping.

Creating submission. His time in Hong Kong. With the girlfriend who died of a drugs overdose.

I let the few facts I know about his past jumble around in my mind.

“Today,” says James. “It was like an old habit arose. It won’t happen again,” he adds.

But what
if it does?
whispers an evil little voice.
What if this man likes beating women? Don’t all wife-beaters say sorry afterwards?

I feel myself mentally shaking my head.
I trust him.

“What is it about the stables?” I whisper, not sure I want to hear the answer.

James looks shame faced. “This was where I went as a boy, when I was sad. I came here a lot,” he adds with a rueful smile.

I ponder this.

“I want you to let me in,” I decide. “I want to know everything about you. I love you James.”

He blinks back at me, as though he’s not sure he believes it.

“Issy, I love you too,” he says. But his eyes close again, in a shamed, pained expression.

 

Chapter 3

 

We walk back hand in hand from the stables. But after our moment of brief intimacy, James has stopped talking. We’re both deep in thought. My mind is turning furiously, trying to think how I can possibly get through to him.

So far, I realise, he’s found out everything about me, my past. I know hardly anything about him.

I mentally rake over what I really know of James. He told me about his mother. About the roses. The memory softens me a little. But it was from long ago, I remind myself. Something tells me that James’s real demons happened more recently. And he won’t tell me anything about the time he was addicted to drugs.

I feel a sudden stab of pain. Why won’t he
let me in?

Please James. You must know how much I love you.

I gaze around distractedly. It’s so beautiful here. The green grass of James’s country estate. Ordinarily, this landscape makes me feel serene. But the loveliness of the surroundings are failing to have their usual calming effect. I am in turmoil.

James stops suddenly and points to a red
-brick wall running along the length of where we’re walking.

“See that?” he asks.

“The wall?” I frown in puzzlement.

“Not just a wall,” says James. “It’s a secret garden.”

“A secret garden?” I can’t keep the frown from my voice. “Like in the children’s book?”

I read
The Secret Garden
as a kid, and enjoyed it. But as far as I knew, it was all fiction.

James nods and squeezes my hand tighter. His green eyes look darker in the dusk light. It’s hard to see what he’s thinking.

“A lot of these old country estates have hidden walled gardens,” he says. “That’s where the idea from the famous book came from.”

“Why would you build a garden which no one can see?” I’m confused.

James laughs.

“Secret garden is more of a loose term,” he admits. “They’re screened off from staff. So if the lord and lady wanted some
alone time, they could go in and be in total private.”

“As in… naughty private?” I’m shocked.

James shrugs. “People weren’t so prudish back then, as people imagine. And rich people had staff around them constantly. They needed some place where everyone knew to leave them be. Hence a secret garden.”

We’re still walking past the red-brick wall. And I slide a glance at his face, wondering if he’s suggesting we get up to anything in the garden. But his
demeanour is sad.

“I used to go
into that garden before,” he whispers. “When I was… Back when I had a problem with drugs.”

It’s the first time I’ve ever heard him talk about it so
honestly. Is he finally opening up? I feel my fist clenching, willing him to say more. But he’s dropped into silence again.


I’d love for you to tell me about that time,” I say carefully.

James
shakes his head. And I know I’ve lost him again. “Another time, perhaps.”

Always another time.

I pull his hand, forcing him to stop and turn to me.

“Wait
,” I say. “I want…” I think for a moment, trying to best say the words. “I want you to let me in,” I say. “Please.” I squeeze his hand and look pleadingly into the dark features of his face. “Tell me.”

For a moment, his eyes are locked on mine. And I realise he’s about to talk. I hardly dare breathe, concentrating instead on his face. As always, I find myself drawn in by his perfect features. The level cheekbones, expressive brows, and mouth are almost completely even. But a slight tilt to his nose and wide jaw give him a more rugged, roguish look.

He’s still wearing his outfit from filming – grey flannel trousers and a linen shirt. In the dusk light, the uncharacteristic outfit gives him the air of a tragic poet.

“Isabella.” He grits his teeth, as though speaking has suddenly become painful.
“I can’t tell you what you want to know.”

Disappointment floods through me.

I am stunned, hurt, and lost. This man is the love of my life. How can I give him the love he deserves if he won’t let me in?

“I’m sorry.” His voice is shaking with sincerity. “Truly.”

“But why?” I press, moving my thumb to stroke his hand. “Do you think I would see you differently? I wouldn’t. I love you.”

He breaks eye contact, looking away.

“Do you remember when you came to my hotel room at Claridges?” he asks, still gazing down. “Our first kiss?”

“Of course I remember,
” I say.

Every last second.

“At the time,” he says, “I told you I wasn’t strong enough to stay away from you.”

“And?” I feel my stomach turn.

“And now,” he sighs, “I’m not strong enough to lose you.”

I open my mouth to reply, but he puts a single finger over my lips.

I close my eyes, feeling the warmth of the contact, mingled with pain.

“Isabella,” he says. I open my eyes to find his steady green gaze filling my vision. “I’ve moved forward from who I was,” he manages. “I’m still broken. But the person I was before. Believe me. You wouldn’t have wanted to know him.”

I reach up and clasp his hand at the wrist, moving his hand gently away from my mouth.

“I would,” I protest,
“I do. I’m ready to love everything about who you are. Why can’t you see that?”

I twist my mouth, trying to think how best to put it.

“Remember what you said to me,” I press, “after the flamenco? You said that nothing I could say would make you love me less. I feel the same way, James. I love you no matter what. You can tell me anything.”

James looks at me for a long moment, as if hardly daring to believe what he’s hearing. Then he shakes his head.

“Can you go on with me, not knowing about my past?” he asks. The words come out as barely a whisper. I can hear his breath is held.

“I don’t know,” I admit. In the surge of confusing feelings, I realise the main problem in my decision is James. His proximity. With Mr Berkeley standing so close, his body heat warming mine, I can barely think straight at the best of times.

“Can I… Can I have some time to think?” I ask. I try to make my tone reassuring, but his face falls instantly. I feel it like a knife in my heart.

Oh James. I’ve hurt you.

I reach up to stroke his cheek.

“I just need to think baby,” I whisper. “I love you. It’s just… It’s a lot to ask, ok? You know everything about my past.
I want to know all of you. Every little bit.”

“But why?”
He sounds so pained.

I run my thumb along his jaw. “Because you need to know that I accept you,” I say. “All of you. That’s what love is about. Trusting each other to accept our faults, as well as our good parts.”

Something switches in his face, as though he’s finally understanding my point of view.

Then
just at that wrong moment, my phone beeps. In the growing dusk, the sound makes us both jump.

James smiles first, then reaches in my pocket.
Just his light touch at my waist makes me quiver.

“From Callum,” h
e says, passing me my phone. James looks relieved, and I realise the window of opportunity to get closer has closed.

“They’re in the pub,” I explain
, remembering the earlier invitation. “Callum wanted to see an English pub. They’re all in there now.”

I pause fractionally,
wondering if Callum extended the invitation to James. Perhaps it’s not usual for the director to mix in with the cast and crew socially.

“Did you want to go?” I ask.

James shakes his head firmly.

“I’ve arranged a party for tomorrow evening, when we’re all back in the studio,” he says. “
I’ll see everyone there.”

“A party?” I ask.

“Just a small event. A little celebration that we’re finally back on track with the filming. It’s fancy dress,” he adds. “It will be fun.”

“I guess I’d better find an outfit,” I say, wondering how that’s going to be possible in a day.

“You’ll have access to the entire costume department at the studio,” he says. “It won’t be difficult.”

I grin at him. “So what’s to stop you coming out tonight as well?”

“It’s bad luck for the director to socialise too much with the cast and crew,” he says.

“I’d never heard that,” I say.

James gives a little smile. “I like to keep a professional distance from my employees.”

His eyes slide to mine. “At least that’s the usual way of things,” he adds, bringing his arms to circle my waist and pulling me close. “But sometimes, a certain, very gifted actress slips through the Berkeley armour.”

“She must be very gifted indeed,” I murmur, my face inches from his, “but I don’t think she’s broken through your armour yet.”

“Oh
, she is gifted,” says James, “and strong, and beautiful.” He begins lazily kissing my mouth between words. “And she has a way of saying things that makes you think about everything differently.”

“Oh
, she does?” I flutter my eyelashes against him as he touches his mouth against mine.

“Yes, she does.” James lips move to my neck. “And
she has so much faith in human nature, it makes you want to be part of her world. Even if it means joining the human race again, when you’ve been out of it a while.”

I smile as his lips brush the sensitive skin along my collar bone.

“It sounds as though that armour is a hindrance, Mr Berkeley. Perhaps you should shed it altogether.”

“My armour has its uses.” He straightens up, and his eyes are sexy and mischievous. “
And besides, this actress has already got rid of more than she could know.”


Has she?”

It doesn’t feel that way sometimes.

He notices the hesitation in my voice, and his face sets into an unreadable expression.

“You should go
to the pub,” he says. His tone is casual. But something in his voice suggests there isn’t room for argument.

“You’re sure you don’t want to come?” I say. “I’m sure we could find you a good luck charm to ward off any evil influences of fraternising with the crew.”

“I already have a good luck charm.” He smiles, pulling me in for a final kiss. “But I have a lot of work to do on the film tonight. A director’s work is never done.”

I frown at him, because I’m not entirely sure he’s telling the truth. In fact, I
’m certain that he’s pulling away again. Off to re-adorn that armour which he says I’ve got rid of.

 

BOOK: The Final Act (#4 Bestselling Spotlight Series)
11.12Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

After the Storm by Margaret Graham
Into the Dark Lands by Michelle Sagara West
When It Rains... by Angie Daniels
Persuasion by Martina Boone
Ultimate Punishment by Scott Turow
Improper Gentlemen by Diane Whiteside, Maggie Robinson, Mia Marlowe