Capture. Flora Dain

here – but not last night, thank goodness. We slept in peace.

      When we eventually did sleep.

      I sip my coffee and grin. When I woke up in the small hours Darnley’s arms and legs were wound tightly around me, his twitching ramrod jutting deliberately against my derrière. Sometimes when he does this I’m too sleepy to do much more than lean back to fondle him and guide him inside. But this time I spun round and slipped my leg underneath him, so he fitted nicely into the soft flesh of my thigh, and I wound my other leg over him, trapping him by the waist.

      ‘You want to fuck? Fuck me then – but there’s a price, Mr Neglectful Fiancé.’

      His breath was hot on my neck. ‘Oh, yeah?’

      I smirked into the darkness as I plotted my revenge. I was still smarting from yesterday’s humiliations in my new boat and later at the complex where I had to meet the people he wants me to teach, for Chrissakes.

      ‘I want to come three times,’ I murmured sweetly. ‘And unless I do I’ll wake you up early in the morning and you’ll arrange it then.’

      He stiffened in my arms, his business centre glowing warm and hard between my legs as I moved against him, thrilling to the feel of his muscles flexing between my thighs, and the glow from his leaping manhood as it made an instant response.

      ‘And how do you suggest I manage that?’ He whispered low, his lips barely moving on my skin. ‘Any ideas?’

      I giggle, warm and dozy in his arms as he stiffens again. ‘Nope,’ I murmur, sleepily. ‘I’ll leave all the technical stuff up to you.’

       Whoa.

      With a surge of power he pulled away from my loving grip, hauled off the quilt and switched on the lamp. In the low light he crouched over me, his eyes blazing, his long mouth etched in a cruel smile. A sardonic twitch at one corner warned me, too late, that he’d been lying in wait.

      I’d unleashed something wild, possibly dangerous.

      His tone was low and menacing. ‘Do I understand you’re dishing out orders, Miss Dean? In my own house? I should warn you, Mr so-called Neglectful Fiancé has pretty strong ideas about that. Get up on your hands and knees. Now.’

      Scared now, and waking up fast, I hurried to obey. The power tool jutting between his legs was already dark, reddish purple, the head glossy and slick. It twitched as I looked longingly at it, mocking me now it was out of reach.

      But that big, and that hot? He must be close.

      But as he lovingly patted my limbs into position I saw I’d missed a trick – I was in for a spanking. And the gleam in his eyes hinted that we’d not done it like this in a while. He’d been waiting to pounce.

      Pounce he did, with a ferocious slap on my rear that almost jerked me flat. His hand landed again and again. He knelt beside me, the heat of his tense, muscular thighs burning into my side as he swung his arm. The jolts jerked me hard into the pillows and muffled my cries.

      Each blow fanned a hot flame of arousal deep my groin. Each flame tingled in my throbbing little centre, pulsing for release.

      ‘How many orgasms did milady order? Three, was it?’

      His low growl almost made me come on the spot as the blows paused and he swooped down to fondle my glowing, burning rear with a cool, loving hand. ‘First one coming right up.’

      I writhed as his fingers searched out my money-spot and made short work of my resistance. The glow that started at the first slap on my backside now erupted into a blast of heat as he pressed home, his rhythmic fingers working me to frenzy. I convulsed around his hand, panting with pleasure and release.

      I had precious little time to savour it.

      ‘Sit up.’ The calm in his eyes warned me we were on Wolfe Time now. This could get serious.

      ‘Taste it, right at the end.’ His low murmur fell somewhere between a purr and a threat. Instant desire pulsed through me. I reached out to tease him with my lips, tasting earth and salt and Darnley in one heady mix. At the same moment he reached down to my still throbbing gap.

      ‘Open up. We’re not done. Take me fully.’

      His fingers invaded again, gently probing all my tender, swollen places and sparking more flames as his intimate, persistent caresses found my money-spot. The angle was awkward but his low voice worked on me like a drug. He pressed harder, easing the pressure now and then to give my swollen folds time to breathe, then caressing again, one finger slipping deep into me and finding a place just inside that I’d no idea was so sensitive. He squeezed gently with his whole hand and I cried out as I convulsed again, another climax rippling through me like the sea.

      I glanced up to see if he’d noticed but that, too, was a mistake.

      He was keeping count.

      His brief, triumphant grin warned me my order was being fulfilled to the letter and I faced yet another trial of pleasure.

      ‘Now get up on your hands and knees again. This time we’ll treat each other.’

      He sounded amused as he edged me into position for my final treat. And now I felt the full force of his hunger as he lay below me, feasting on my still pulsing riches, while his gleaming, purplish beast jutted into my face for its quid pro quo.

      I obliged eagerly, hungry for him, muscles rippling with need as his busy tongue searched out my still tingling places and teased me to my final surrender. And when we finally came it was at almost the same instant.

      I hung over him, spent and content, feeling him soften slowly, just as I was pulsing with happy spasms, fading away into a warm glow, until he slid out from under me, gathered me in his arms and folded me up in sleep.

      He wakes later and we start over. This time we take it slow, real slow, and my orgasms are gentle and frequent while he takes his time and loses himself in my pleasure.

      As a final reward I have to lean over him and let him taste me, his tongue eager, his hunger firing yet another massive climax just as I thought I was sated and replete. To ensure my focus he barks out short, sharp commands as he does it, making me pose with my hands high over my head so he can enjoy the view.

      And to my amazement it works, the harsh instructions slicing into my lazy arousal like cheesewire, making me ache, making me strain – and making me hotter than hot.

      Wolfe Time just gets better.

      * * *

      The beach is a different place this morning, light and sunny. No seaweed draped on my boat today, but the tide is almost at its highest point. And right on cue I hear it, a low, juddering boom. The sound was terrifying in the fog. Now the sun’s out and the light dances off the rippling blue water of Darnley’s bay, but somehow the noise is just as spooky. It sounds like the hollow groan of some ailing giant.

      I haul my boat down to the water, slip the painter over a rock, stow my things and a powerful torch safely out of reach of the splashing wavelets and start the engine.

      It fires first time and I set off round the bay. I find it quickly, a low cave right on the waterline under the cliff overhang. It looks exciting and mysterious, the roof low over the rollers that surge inside. As I cut the engine to edge into it I hear the boom again, deafening in here.

      It could be the waves. I edge along the rough rock wall and flash the torch. The waves are pounding at the far end, underneath a low ridge. As I look up a movement catches my eye and I feel my heart race. A seal? I’ve heard there are some around here, but I’ve yet to see one.

      I flash the torch again but there’s nothing there. Did I imagine it? Was it just a reflection off the water? Patches of light dance all over the walls as sunlight streaming in at the mouth of the cave bounces off the wavelets I’m stirring up. It’s definitely creepy in here …

      ‘Hello? Anybody there?’ My voice echoes horribly all around me, drowned by