By His Command (House of Submission 2)

Jasper looked over, squinting then frowning, and seemed to make polite excuses to the suit guys.

‘Oh, here he is now,’ I said, my heart jumping.

‘I’ll be off,’ said the other man. ‘He looks as if he might challenge me to a duel. Pistols at dawn, darling.’

He scurried off just as Jasper strode up.

‘Who’s your friend?’ he asked abruptly.

‘He’s not my friend. I’ve no idea who he is.’

‘He was after you.’

‘I doubt it! More likely that he was after you.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes.’

‘Ah. Sorry. I have a little problem with possessiveness. It’s one of the reasons I never get involved with people. Until you.’

‘I’m not about to run off with anyone, Jasper. I’m here with you. You’re the one I want.’

‘Just as well,’ he said, his tone darkening. He slid an arm around my hip and rubbed my bottom, taking advan

tage of my back being to the wall where nobody could see it. ‘Because I want you. Right. Now. Have you finished that drink?’

I put it down by the plant pot.

‘I have now.’

‘Good. Because I’ve done what I came here for. We’re leaving.’

‘All ready?’

‘I’ve had the photograph and the conversation. Too much champagne gives me a headache and I’m not interested in talking to anyone else.’

I let my stomach press against his pelvis, feeling the semi-hardness inside his black dress trousers.

‘Then let’s go,’ I whispered.

‘Oh,’ he said, looking at the room behind him, then pulling me out into the centre of it, laughing and holding me around the waist as if we were dancing. ‘There was one other thing I wanted to do while we’re here. This.’

My lipstick was doomed. He snogged it right off, kissing for dear life, right there in the middle of the crowd, tongues and teeth all mixed up in the sticky-sweet mess.

Vaguely I was aware of flashes around us, photographs being taken perhaps. I thought nothing of it at the time – film directors weren’t usually on the front page of the scandal rags, though his acting past might rack up the red-top points. As for me, I was nobody. Sarah Wells. His.

‘I suppose nobody’s in any doubt about our relationship now,’ I said, looking down to see my scarcely-covered breasts rise and fall in quick beats.

‘No,’ said Jasper, pulling me through the crowd, but not to the exit. ‘And they might not be in much doubt about what I’m going to do to you now.’

We reached the rear of the marquee, where a flap opened out into the Mayfair square that surrounded it. A group of smokers stood in the rain, but we passed them by and moved towards the railed fringe of the square, hidden behind a variety of shrubs and trees.

I heard the smokers behind us comparing theories about where we were going. They seemed to have the right idea. The word ‘shag’ floated through the persistent drizzle and I tugged at Jasper’s arm and said, ‘Won’t it be a bit wet?’

‘You will be,’ he said, determination in his voice. ‘Here.’

He stopped in front of a low-hanging tree branch.