Devoted: The Blackwell Lessons Part 39

'Um ... yes,' I agree. 'It's good.'

'It certainly has all the right equipment.' Marc takes down reins and pulls them tight so the leather makes a snapping sound. 'Take off your coat.'

I do, and lay it on one of the cushioned cubes.

'Now the rest of your clothes.'

As I strip off, Marc pulls down blinds and locks the tack-room door.

'If you're too cold, tell me immediately,' says Marc. 'Do you understand?'

'Yes.' I'm totally naked now, my clothes in a heap. I am so pregnant. But I still want Marc. And the look in his eyes tells me he wants me too.

'Turn around,' Marc orders. 'And hold your hands out behind you.'

I do, and Marc binds my wrists with the leather reins.

'I've found something else useful in here,' says Marc, going to the wall.

I hear the crackle of plastic.

'Marc?'

'Don't speak unless you're spoken to.'

I feel Marc behind me.

'Face forwards,' he barks, kicking four cushioned cubes together.

He bends me over them, so my pregnant stomach rests comfortably between the gaps.

'What were you unwrapping?'

'This.' Marc shows me another riding crop. He runs the tip of it from my neck all the way down my spine. 'I thought you might like a new one. Fresh out of the packet.'

My body gives a pleasurable shiver as the riding crop reaches my backside.

Crack!

Marc whacks the crop right on my b.u.t.tocks.

I moan.

Crack!

Marc whacks me again.

'Oh G.o.d Marc!'

Marc slides the riding crop between my thighs.

'Open your legs,' he says, batting the crop back and forth on my naked skin.

I move my knees over the hard ground.

Marc kneels behind me, one hand resting on my glowing backside.

He spins the riding crop into the air and catches the whip end. Then he slides the hard leather handle between my legs, back and forth, rubbing up and around.

I moan, sinking into the cushions as Marc slides the crop handle over the soft, warm part between my legs. Friction burns in the most pleasurable way.

I can feel myself getting hotter and hotter and my thighs clench as Marc rubs the leather tip around.

Everything begins to tighten up my thighs, my b.u.t.tocks and inside too. Just as pleasure really starts to build, Marc slides the crop inside me.

Soon, it's so far inside that I can feel it softly bruising. Marc begins to move it up and down. Softly at first, and then harder and harder until he's working a fierce rhythm.

'Oh G.o.d Marc. Oh G.o.d!'

He circles the crop handle then slides it free.

I feel Marc's sharp breathing on my naked back and hear him unbuckling his trousers.

His hardness touches my thighs. Then he slides inside me all in one go, the hugeness of him filling me up.

I let out a gasp.

'Feeling more obedient yet?' Marc asks, running the rough riding-crop tip down my cheek.

'Yes.'

'Good.'

Marc puts his hands on my hips, still holding the riding crop. He moves me so the soft, sensitive part between my legs finds the edge of the cushioned cube.

I moan as I rock against the cushion, feeling Marc's huge length inside me.

Marc lifts the riding crop and lightly runs the tip back and forth on my b.u.t.tocks, then up my back to my shoulder.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

He hits the naked flesh near my neck.

It's just too much. I come in one big rush of pleasure, my whole body warm and glowing.

Marc sinks deep inside me and I see the riding crop fall to the floor as he grabs my hips and pulls me onto him.

'Sophia!' he moans, his fingers gripping me tight.

He moves my hair over my shoulder and kisses the back of my neck, and then along my shoulders.

'I love you.' He moans against the sore spot where he cracked the riding crop. 'I love you.'

'I love you too.'

75.

Marc helps me dress, and I pull the maternity coat tight around me.

'Do you think the baby is cold in this weather?'

'No. But I think you need another new coat. That one barely fits you any more.'

'It's so soon until the baby gets here. Is it really worth it?'

'Of course it is. It's very important you're comfortable. Why don't you go out with Jen? Buy some new clothes?'

'I'm not sure more new clothes will fit in the house.'

'You need a new coat.' Marc kisses my forehead. 'I have to leave you this afternoon. It would be good if Jen looks after you.'

Something p.r.i.c.kles in my stomach. 'Why do you have to leave?'

'Nothing for you to worry about. Just don't give birth while I'm away.'

I laugh. 'It's still a month until the due date.'

'The doctor said you could go into labour at any moment.'

'But she also said it was unlikely. And that first births are usually overdue.'

'Either way. I don't want you left alone.'

'Then don't leave me,' I say, aware my voice sounds a little pleading.

Marc frowns. 'This will be the last time, okay? There's something I need to sort out. Something important before the birth. You'll be fine with Jen.'

'I know. And it'll be good to see her. She's going crazy over the wedding. But-'

'Keith's picking me up in an hour or so. Then he'll come back and drive you into London. Buy anything you like. Here's my card.'

As Jen and I drive into the city, I try to join in her happy wedding chatter. But all I can think about is Marc. And what he's doing this afternoon.

'Okay,' says Jen, as we near the department store. 'Come on. What's going on? You're too quiet.'

'It's nothing,' I say. 'Carry on talking about the wedding. It's fine.'

'Oh no. I know what a "fine" means coming from you. Is everything okay Soph? The baby's all right isn't it?'

I nod. 'Everything's great there. I'm doing all that hypnosis stuff you sent me. Trying to stay calm.'

'So why the sad face?'

'It's Marc.'

'What about him?'

'He's ... I don't know. He said he had something to sort out this afternoon. But he didn't say what.'

'So?'

'So ... I just get the feeling something is going on. Maybe something to do with this secret Baz was talking about.'

'You are heavily pregnant Soph. Are you sure your hormones aren't making you paranoid?'

'No. I'm not sure at all.'

The limo stops behind Cursey and Taylor at a private entrance used by celebrities. It always makes me feel funny using the VIP entrance. Because I don't feel like a celebrity.

A doorman lets us in, and we're shown to a private dressing room on the top floor. We're brought tea and scones, and then a.s.sistants parade all sorts of lovely maternity coats in front of us.

Straight away, I pick a beautiful soft pink one. It's taken to be wrapped in tissue paper.

'So what now?' says Jen, checking her watch. 'That was supposed to take all afternoon.'

'How about we do some wedding shopping for you? Didn't you need party favours or something?'

'Yes, but I can't take a pregnant woman shopping with me. You'll keel over.'

'I'll be fine.'

'I don't want you giving birth in a department store. Anyway, Marc won't be happy if I take you out in the crowds.'

'Honestly I'm fine. I'm totally fit and healthy and I've been sitting around indoors for so long. Come on let me out into the real world.'

'Okay, but we should take a security guard. I don't want you getting mobbed.'

'Jen, this is me we're talking about. Not Jenifer Lopez. No one's going to recognise me.'

'Soph, are you living in crazy land? You and Marc are in the papers every day. They've even given you two a name.'