Divertissement Read online

  This time she ran her tongue down one side of his cock, slowly and very thoroughly, then came back up to lick off most of the cream. Since the catch in his breathing implied he liked that, she did the same up and down the other side.

  Ellen paused to survey her handiwork and realized she’d barely made inroads into the cream. So what? This wasn’t the time to worry about calories or cholesterol.

  Instead, she circled his cock with her lips and worked her way down, licking and sucking down to the root, then easing her lips up and down while her tongue curled and swirled until all she tasted was skin. Hot, hard, male skin.

  As she knelt between John’s thighs, his hand resting on her head, a wild rush of power and desire flooded her. She so loved this! To think there were women who scorned to kneel at their lover’s feet. Who thought this to be subservient, demeaning. Ellen knew the truth. This was the ultimate female power. To hold his cock between her lips, feel his erection against her tongue and to know she had the power to maim, injure or give them both the absolute…or one of the absolutes of pleasure.

  She took him all the way back then eased up and down as her lips caressed him, her tongue circled and teased the head of his cock and around the sensitive rim. Ellen was almost lost to time and the place, caught up in the sheer joy and mind-fogging pleasure of his cock in her mouth and his hands on her hair, when he said, “Enough, my love,” and eased her head away.

  Stunned, confused, she looked up at him.

  “We’ll finish this together,” he said, and taking both her hands, helped her to her feet.

  She wasn’t exactly steady and a quick glance at the wide eyes and astonished faces around them didn’t exactly help.

  “John,” she said, having not the slightest idea what to say next.

  He didn’t hesitate. Or only long enough to put his arm around her waist and ask Alan, “All right if we borrow your spare room?”

  She was far, far too old to blush but managed it all the same.

  “Go ahead,” Alan replied, “on the left at the top of the stairs. You know the way. Take your time. I think I’ll have Jane look for more whipped cream.”

  She could have told them she’d used the lot but was running so fast after John—he did have her hand in his after all—that she was halfway up the wide staircase before the thought sprang to mind. Then they were on the landing and headed for the room on the left. When John opened the door, pulled her through and pinned her against the wall, she didn’t have brain space for any more thoughts.

  He plastered his mouth on hers, kissing until he left her gasping for breath and aching for more. “John,” she whimpered as he ran his hands down over her breasts before he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her.

  “I know,” he replied, pressing her against the door for support as he lowered her and impaled her on his cock.

  For a fleeting second she wondered if the others were listening on the stairs, but then he pressed even deeper and her mind as good as shorted out.

  Nothing in the world mattered but his cock and the wild thrusts of his hips as he drove her higher and faster in a whirlwind of desire, need and exhilaration as her mind and body raced toward climax. A voice in her head was screaming her joy, a being deep inside her soul was roaring with satisfaction, and the muscles, nerves and molecules in her body thrilled at the raging joy as John fucked her to orgasm.

  Spent and satiated, she sagged against the door, but he wasn’t done yet. He continued the wild rhythm until he came, taking her with him this time.

  He eased out of her and she pretty much wobbled until he grabbed her and whisked her across the room to the bed where they just about collapsed on the candlewick bedspread.

  “Oh my God,” she said. “You’re quite wonderful.”

  “I could say the same,” he replied, stretching out beside her. “Although you did come without permission.”

  “I did, didn’t I?” Oh well, too late now. She couldn’t bottle it back up. She wasn’t even sure she could stand.

  “Never mind,” he replied, brushing her hair off her sweaty face to kiss her forehead. “Give me a good reason to punish you very soon.”

  “Better wait until the marks fade from last night. I know Annie gave me a couple of odd looks, and if I get run over by a bus, they might ask tricky questions.”

  “Where I’m taking you, there are no buses.”

  Ah! Had to be his cottage in Cornwall. Very nice. She wouldn’t mind a session in his attic playroom. After she took a nice, long nap. Damn! She couldn’t go to sleep. They were in Alan and Jane’s house and soon needed to get back on the road.

  She forced herself to sit up. “Shouldn’t we get going? Or at least offer to help clean up?”

  “We will, but I need a shower first.” He stood and crossed to the door.

  No man should look so seriously sexy wearing nothing but argyle socks and shoes, but John managed it. He opened the door and called down the stairs, “Alan, be a pal and bring up our clothes. I need to drag Ellen into the shower.”

  She wouldn’t need much dragging.

  As he closed the door, she stood. A little less wobbly now, and said, “I think for a change, I’ll drag you.” And took his hand. The bathroom door stood ajar as she led him across the room and turned on the shower.

  “I’m the only hen-pecked, pussy-whipped Dominant in creation,” he said as she adjusted the temperature.

  She laughed. Couldn’t help it. “And you love it,” she replied. “Since it’s not the least bit true. Now tell me, where are we going?”

  “Trying to weasel the answer out of me with your feminine wiles?”

  “No, just asking.”

  “You’ll find out when I’m ready for you to know. Now get in the shower before I spank you.”

  Might as well. She needed to get the whipped cream out of her hair.

  * * * * *

  Twenty minutes later, dressed and hair thankfully whipped cream free and almost dry, and Ellen sat in the kitchen, drinking tea with Annie and Jane. John had disappeared with Alan and Mark to load some apparently essential supplies or equipment in the car.

  Tea was welcome. Ellen’s throat was parched after all the yelling and shouting a climax from John entailed, but sitting fully clothed while two younger women were still naked was an odd situation.

  Was this how the Dominants felt? Or was the oddness because she longed to be naked too, particularly when the men walked back in?

  “Are you all right, Auntie Ellie?” Annie asked. She was downright anxious. Dear girl!

  “I am perfectly fine, Annie my dear.”

  “She looks more than all right to me,” Jane said with a bit of a grin.

  “And to be honest, I am a lot more than all right, I’m positively…”

  “Glowing?” Jane added with a bigger grin. “You look so…”

  “Satisfied and sated?” Ellen added, liking Jane more and more. “Yes, that’s about it.” She smiled at her niece. “Do not look so worried, Annie my love. John and I suit each other marvelously and I will be eternally thankful that you introduced us.” Even if this went nowhere. She’d always look back on her time with John with fondness and damp knickers. “Trust me, dear. I am old enough to know what I’m doing.”

  “I can’t get over it,” Annie said. “You look very, very happy, but darn it, John’s so scary.”

  “So you once warned me, love, but keep in mind, I like being scared a little.” And fucked a lot and tied up and spanked and generally made to feel submissive and sexy and desirable, but saying all that might be going a bit too far, even in this house.

  “I’ll tell you one thing,” Jane said, reaching for the pot and refilling everyone’s cups. She lowered her voice. “John may suit you, Ellen, but you have wrought wonders on him. I’ve known him almost as long as I’ve known Alan and I’ve never seen him smile or laugh the way he does around you.”

  Interesting.

  * * * * *

  Ellen mulled over that conversation a
s they headed west. She didn’t doubt them, after all Jane had known John for years and Annie for almost two, but as far as she was concerned, he’d always been the same, a demanding Dominant lover and a friend. A rather secretive friend at times, just like now. He steadfastly refused to say where they were going or what the surprise was, but she could make a pretty good educated guess that it involved sex.

  She hoped.

  They arrived after dark at his cottage in Cornwall. No surprise that. He’d taken her down here a couple of times.

  “We’re here?”

  He turned off the ignition and reached over and squeezed her thigh. “Yes, my love, we’re here and here we spend the night. It’s too late to take you the rest of the way. We’ll go in the morning.”

  Go where? They weren’t that far from Land’s End. Maybe the Scilly Isles. She’d gone there years back on a family holiday and Julia had broken her ankle climbing the rocks and that had rather ruined the rest of the stay. Still, her still-bossy elder sister wasn’t here now to disrupt things.

  Thank God!

  Although the look on her sister’s face if she ever got a look at John’s attic playroom would be something to remember.

  * * * * *

  Ellen awoke early and slipped out of bed, leaving John snoring gently. She dressed—well, she pulled on her blouse and skirt from yesterday and went downstairs for coffee. Mug in hand, she walked down to the jetty. Planning on dipping her toes in the water and sitting there awhile, pondering on life, John, sex, John, her niece Annie, John, whether or not to follow up the lead about a stock of glass buttons she heard about in Brussels and John. Hell, she might as well skip the non-immediate and dwell entirely on the man she left sleeping in the wide sleigh bed.

  The new boat, moored at the end of the jetty, almost put John out of her mind.

  Heaven’s alive! Was this the surprise he’d mentioned? What did he have planned? Kink on the high seas? Might be a bit cramped. In her experience, boats never had quite enough room. Though getting in close quarters with John wasn’t such a bad prospect.

  Her coffee was cooling in the morning air, but Ellen barely noticed, just stuck to her original plan of sitting on the end of the jetty and letting the crabs nip at her toes. Only the crabs weren’t out this morning. So she sat undisturbed until John called as he came from the cottage.

  “Is that the surprise?” she asked once he was within earshot.

  “No. That is to take us to the surprise.”

  So, maybe it was the Scilly Isles after all. “Going anytime soon?”

  “After breakfast. Come on in,” he said “We can’t hang around all day or we’ll be going against the tide.”

  * * * * *

  She helped load the boat. An interestingly assorted cargo it was too—towels, a large, heavy backpack, blankets. “Are we staying the night?” She wasn’t exactly enthused about camping.

  “Don’t think so.”

  Very informative that was! Still, she helped stow them below along with the picnic hamper and a carton of bottled water. “Are we headed for a drought?”

  “Just hand the small box, will you?”

  Ellen recognized that. One of his many toy boxes. So, sex was on the agenda. Pretty much a given around John.

  “Here you are.” She resisted the temptation to drop it and see what fell out.

  A couple of baskets followed. They obviously weren’t going to starve, and—a bit of a surprise this—a rolled tarpaulin that he lashed to the deck.

  “What do you have on under that?” he asked, eying her up and down.

  “Nothing except my skin.”

  “Good. Put on a lifejacket and let’s cast off.”

  They set off, almost due north in the bright of the morning. After about half an hour, Ellen turned to him as he steered the boat. “That’s Goose Island, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right.”

  “But it’s private property.”

  “Yes.”

  The man could be very irritating. “If it’s private and people can’t land there, why are we heading in that direction?”

  “I bought it.”

  Chapter Four

  Wasn’t the first time John had robbed her of speech. But the other times they’d been having sex of some variety or another. Not chugging across the Bristol Channel. “You bought it?” Why not? The man was full of surprises. “Just like that?”

  “No, not ‘just like that’. It took some haggling. The agent tried hard to convince me there was a desirable, gothic Victorian house on the island that needed a bit of updating. I knew it was a half-tumbled-down ruin and argued the point.” He sounded quite pleased with himself.

  “So you went ahead and bought it?” Definitely a surprise to remember.

  John turned from staring at the sea ahead and smiled at her. “I bought it for you.” Yep, he was getting very good at depriving her of the means of speech. “You said you’d always dreamed of having an island retreat of your own. Remember?”

  She did. Very well. It was during a rather wild and totally unforgettable weekend in a kinky B and B on Guernsey. “So, you bought this one?” As she spoke, the island came closer.

  “It was the only one on the market within easy reach. The Seychelles or even the Adriatic is nowhere near as convenient. The house needs a lot of work but I thought we could spend the day here and you could look around.”

  “Just look around?”

  “Hell no. I’m going to tie you up and fuck you, but we will look over the house too.”

  They moored the boat on an old stone jetty. It was solid and sturdy but covered with barnacles and seaweed. “I’m getting a crew over from the mainland to clean it up and work on the house,” John said.

  They unloaded and piled everything in a wheelbarrow. “Crude but workable,” he said with a grin. “What we’ll need is a small tractor with a trailer. I’m not going to try to haul furniture up the hill in a wheelbarrow.”

  She wouldn’t argue. Pushing the wheelbarrow was hard enough over the uneven ground. “Planning on redoing the road?”

  “Glad you brought walking boots?”

  “You bet. But seriously, what about a road?”

  “Since I don’t plan on bringing a car over, not sure if I need one, but I would like to set up some tracks to ride bicycles.”

  “This really is an end-of-the-world escape, isn’t it?” No wonder it had been uninhabited for ages.

  “Perfect for our purposes.”

  That was a loaded comment if ever there was one. But he was right. Here they could make love in the open air, run around naked—well, naked with strong boots on—and generally have a wonderful time. “What if it rains?”

  He laughed. “That’s why I brought the tarpaulin. The stables and sheds still have halfway-sound roofs. The tarp will keep the rain off our stores. Only the house is in bad shape.”

  “Forgive me being picky, but the idea of sex in a cowshed is a bit of a turn-off.”

  “Not with me it wouldn’t be!”

  The man had an ego and a half, but she suspected he was right. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “You can take my cock for it too!” She would. As often as she could. “But we’ll leave the cowshed for a rainy day. I have something else planned.”

  She bet he did.

  As they reached the crest of the low hill, the house came into sight—a solid, square-built structure of gray stone. He was right about the roof though. It was half caved in. No doubt the wood inside would be equally rotten.

  She was right. They climbed in a window—the door was blocked on the inside by a fallen beam—and looked around.

  “John, it’s a ruin.” Not the ambiance for wild sex—unless one went in for kidnap-and-abduction-in ruined-buildings fantasies.

  “That’s how I knocked the price down, but look around, the walls are solid.”

  And a good foot thick. “But it’s going to take masses of work—and a hell of a lot of money—to get it habitable.”

&
nbsp; “So what?” He dropped a kiss on her cheek. “It’s only money, and then I can bring you here and have you stranded and at my mercy. If you don’t accede to my wicked demands, I’ll abandon you here.”

  Seemed John was into abduction fantasies. “I could always sneak out and take the boat and leave you stranded.”

  “Not if you’re tied to the bed. Maybe I’ll just lock away your shoes.”

  That would work. Walking on this rocky ground barefoot would cripple her. “I think I’ll make shoes a hard limit.”

  Would she ever tire of his sexy, lovely laugh? She hoped not.

  “You’ve seen the ruin and the worst. Help me unload and I’ll show you the best.”

  They stowed most of the supplies in what appeared to be a shed of some sort and tied the tarp down on the roof to seal off any gaps or cracks.

  Picking up his backpack and asking her to help him carry the hamper, John led the way around the house and across several abandoned fields, over and between stone walls until the land sloped down to a sheltered bay.

  They clambered down over the rocks to the semicircle of pale sand that fringed the water.

  “It’s beautiful,” Ellen said. There was something almost primeval about the spot, just the sea and sky and gulls wheeling overhead as she watched one fly up to the cliffs at the headland. “And wonderful. It’s as if we’re the first humans to set foot here.”

  He chuckled. “Not exactly. My younger brother and I used to come out here with my cousins. We’d spend summers down in Sea Crest. We used to take the boat and row over here. Or at least we did until Luke, my youngest cousin, fell on the rocks and broke his arm and we had to tell where we’d been.” He shook his head and gave a rueful smile. “Our collective parents were suitably shocked that we’d been trespassing and we were categorically forbidden to ever come out here again. If I remember rightly they even confiscated the boat for a week.”

  John seldom mentioned his family and she wondered what sort of boy he’d been. Dominant and forceful no doubt. “Did you ever come back?”

  “Not until I heard it was for sale and decided to buy it for us. We won’t invite anyone else. Our retreat, our refuge. Once I get the house habitable, that is.”