I feel something I haven’t felt for a while. Hope.
Will she break the pattern?
I quickly quash that thought and close the door behind her, then walk past and into my office, which is directly off the main hall. The rest of the house is lit up; an invitation to explore she won’t accept unless I tell her to. The lure is in the potential, which I will deny her tonight. She will see my entrance hall floor and the inside of my office. And that is it.
I sit down in my chair and pick up my Scotch, taking a sip and staring at the doorway. It’s empty. My pulse spikes.
“You may enter,” I say into my glass.
Soft footfalls sound out on the polished wooden floors and then she rounds the doorway and steps across the threshold.
She’s here now. There’s no backing out. It’s as good as a contract. She knows it and I know it. And yet neither of us have said yes.
Mid-thirties, at a guess. Jason hadn’t said. Age is irrelevant in our lifestyle. Of course, consenting age is a given and I refuse to consider anyone as young as Lara. But mid-thirties is pushing it. The night just took on a shade of regret.
“You may lift your head,” I say, placing my glass on the table beside me and resting my hands on the arms of my chair.
Her eyes are brown, a deep chocolate that looks like it melted. Her face has a natural tan and her hair is cut like a pixie. I like it. But fuck! She’s young.
Her gaze lands on the chain on the desk and skip off it. Not too quickly. Not too slowly. Just right. She’s seen it. She’s noted its significance. She’s moved on.
Will she move on so quickly after tonight?
She hasn’t looked at me yet. She’s taking in the books on the shelves, I even think she recognises a few of them. She’s spotted Lara’s brass monkey figurine. See no evil. Hear no evil. Speak no evil. Why my daughter left it behind, I don’t know. Maybe it was a message.
Clearly one I couldn’t ignore because I’d moved it from her bedroom and placed it in here.
I suddenly wish I hadn’t.
Haydee’s eyes finally rest on me. There’s a soft curve to her lush lips that brings to mind an erotic image of her on her knees. I wonder what sounds she’d make with that mouth. I wonder what she tastes like.
“Have you done this before?” I ask. Such an easy question to trip them up on.
She nods her head once. It’s slow and purposeful and executed with infinite grace.
This woman is better than expected.
“Tonight is an audition, if you will,” I say. “For both of us. If at the end of the evening you are not satisfied and have no wish to continue, you may walk out the door with no regrets. Likewise, if at the end of our evening I am not convinced you’ll meet my requirements, I shall ask you to leave. No regrets. If we both agree to explore this further then you may take the chain.”
Her eyes flick to the length of delicate emerald and diamond studded platinum chain in that instant. She immediately looks at the floor realising her mistake.
Sweet woman. I’ll let her have that one.
I stand up from my chair and walk toward her. Her head remains tipped down. I walk around her body, taking in the straight elegant slope of her back, the long line of her neck, and the soft curves of her hips under the silk dress she’s wearing. I wonder what she has on underneath it. I stop my perusal standing directly in front of her and place one finger under her chin.
Her face comes up with the minute amount of pressure I execute, until she’s looking at the ceiling and tipped her head in just the right way to bare her throat.
Her invitation is greatly accepted.
I run my tongue up the side of her neck, feeling her pulse beat wildly under that beautiful, delicate skin. My lips press to her ear, hot breath washing down moist skin. She shudders.
“I wonder what turns you on, sweet Haydee,” I muse. “Would you like dinners and dancing? Being showed off while you wear what’s mine? Or do you like dark corners and sinful deeds? Hot bodies, and eager limbs, a litany of dirty words slipping over your skin?”
She moans. It’s soft, barely there. So well controlled. She’ll give if I give. And she’s just told me without words what she likes.
“I’m going to taste you,” I whisper, moving my lips across her cheek, bypassing her mouth, and then down the other side. “I’m going to lick you until you scream. Will you scream, Haydee? If I suck on your clit? If I stroke your pussy and fuck you with my mouth? Will… you… scream?”
She nods her head, still looking up at the ceiling, even though I’ve moved my finger from under her chin.
“Sweet Haydee,” I say with genuine pleasure. “Take the dress off and lie back on the desk.”
I move to the fire and stoke it, my back to her, my eyes for the flames. I rest my hand along the mantel and stare into the orange glow, allowing myself to get hypnotised by the flickering light. The heat warms my hands and lips, as I hear the sound of silky fabric slithering to the floor.
I’m hard for this woman who hasn’t said a word. I’m aching to sink myself inside her and lose all sense of time. My clothes feel too restrictive; I envy her freedom right now. But I don’t loosen my tie. I don’t adjust the erection that is pressing painfully against my belt buckle.
I turn around and find a goddess lying back across my desk, surrounded by emeralds and diamonds.
“Feet on the desk,” I say, watching her chest rise and fall rapidly. “Wider.” She obeys. No hesitation. No annoying efforts to hide herself. In this she is mine. Completely.
She’s experienced, I can tell. And for a moment I am jealous of whomever trained her. I should thank them. This night is shaping up to be the most entertaining I’ve had in a very long, long time. But that curl of emotion digs deep. This exquisite creature needs to be mine. And mine alone.
I move to the edge of the desk and run a finger down between her breasts; they are small, like she is small. Easily fit inside my palm, my mouth. My finger dips into her belly button, she’s wearing a belly ring. I’m amused to note it matches my chain.
I reach over and lift the chain off the desk from beside her. Her eyes meet mine. It’s too early to be offering her this gift, but that’s not why I’ve picked it up.
“Hands down by your ankles,” I whisper.
Her responding smile is like a thousand lit fireworks exploding in the sky. She wraps a delicate hand around an equally delicate ankle and repeats it on the other side.
I take the chain and drape it over her wrist, then wind it around her ankle, draping the length of it across her pubic bone to the other side. I repeat the motion, securing her hand to her ankle on this side, until I’m satisfied she can’t escape. The notion of her imprisonment pleases me.
“This will hurt if you move against them,” I say. “The jewels are hard against flesh.”
And oh, what flesh. Dark skin, the pale silver of the platinum chain, the brilliant green and sparkling white of the gems contrasting strikingly against it. I have a sudden desire to bathe her in jewels. Which is ridiculous, I don’t shower my pets with gifts. The chain is more than enough.
“Are you wet?” I ask. She nods her head, then bites her lip seductively. I shake mine and tsk her. “What do you want, Haydee?”
She makes a sound. It’s unintelligible.
“You may talk.” It’s an unusual request and we both know it. For a moment I hold my breath. My bizarre need to hear her voice, to hear what she sounds like when she talks, has taken me by surprise.
Haydee recovers better than me.
“You, Master. I want your lips, your tongue, your teeth, and your fingers. I want them on me.”
Sweet Jesus, this woman is beautiful.
“Where?” I demand. I swallow my reaction and say in a controlled voice, “Where do you want my touch?”
“Between my legs,” she whispers in that soft lilt that almost makes me come.
“On your cunt?” I stress the last word. If she likes it dirty, I’ll give it to her fuc
king dirty. I’m a little worried I may give this woman anything she desires.
“Yes,” she says. “On my cunt.”
I’m on my knees in the next breath, but I don’t give her what she asks for immediately. I kiss the inside of her thigh, follow that up with a soft nuzzle at the crease where leg meets pelvis, pressing the chain and its jewels into her flesh gently.
Her hips rock. I smell her arousal. Her fingers clench around her ankles, but she doesn’t attempt to move them from their posts. I blow against her swollen flesh, watch mesmerised as her back arches and moisture pools between her thighs.
I want to taste her. I want to drink her down and wash in her desire. I have never wanted anything quite so much.
The first stroke of my tongue is light, a feather kiss that promises so much more. She moans, moves her hands instinctively, making the chain dig into her flesh, which elicits a little gasp.
“Easy,” I murmured against her swollen folds. She tastes of honey; a nectar so sweet I already crave more.
My tongue circles her clit and she rocks against me. The movement makes the chain dig in, but she doesn’t stop. I tease her with long flicks, then mix it up with swirls and a flat stroke of my entire tongue up her centre, licking her out.
Her moan is music. Her gasps when the chain creases her flesh is a symphony to my ears.
I lick and stroke and then suck when she least expects it. My tongue delving in as deep as I can go, and then back out to flick lightly against her engorged clit. She wants more. She’s desperate for it. But she won’t speak again because she knows my earlier transgression will not be repeated. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.
Pets don’t speak, they scream.
Her orgasm is a thing of beauty. I thrust two fingers inside her tight pussy and flick them mercilessly against her G-spot making the orgasm become a tsunami. My teeth fasten on her clit and bite, sending her to another dimension she may not have had the pleasure before to find.
She’s panting and writhing and vocal in a way that I usually only ever allow them to be. And while she recovers I unwind the the chain, relishing the indentations of the tiny jewels dotted over her perfect skin, and let it pool beside her head on the desk.
I lean over her, still dressed in my dinner suit, her naked body a delicious invitation beneath my chest. I could take her. She would let me. But standards have to be set. Rules established. I let my lips brush hers in a barely there kiss of appreciation and then lift up and away, moving to my chair.
The whisky hides her taste. I immediately regret taking a sip, but I don’t place the drink on the table at my side. I hold it, as though nursing it, aware my hands are shaking slightly and my control is borderline.
“Dress,” I whisper, my voice too loud for the silence of the room. Moments ago Haydee was singing, and now the fire is all the sound I hear.
No, that’s not true. I hear the beat of my heart.
Seconds later, maybe minutes, I’m not sure, she appears at my side and sinks to the floor at my knee. Her face is tipped down, cheeks flushed, lips open as she breaths in my cologne. I’m so hard I can barely think.
My hand comes out and I run my fingers through her silky short dark hair. I want this woman to stay. I have to send her away.
“You did well,” I say, my voice back to normal volume. It fills the room up and threatens to break the glass in the windows. “Your answer?”
She looks up at me, confusion in her so expressive eyes. I like that. She says so much with just one simple look. Her head tilts to the side, that long graceful length of her neck on display again. I want to touch it. Then her eyes stray to my arousal and she tips her head back, exposing her throat.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I say. She nods.
It takes everything in me to stand up from the chair. To move away from the compliant, submissive woman who has placed herself at my feet, in my care. But I need control. If I take her tonight, I will surely lose it.
And… I don’t want to lose Haydee.
“The chain is yours,” I say crossing to the door. I don’t look back. “There is a key to the front door on the hall table. I’ll expect you waiting here in my office tomorrow night at ten. Your position is the one we just trialled on the desk.”
Then I force myself to walk out of the room and down the hallway into the kitchen. A second glass of Scotch is already sitting there poured. I’ve never had to use it before this evening. By the time the velvet liquid has flowed down my throat she’s walking through the front door.
She didn’t even hesitate.
I hear the door click close and shut my eyes. My heart is thundering inside my chest. My cock is throbbing in my pants. I feel shaken to my very core.
I try not to, but I end up walking faster than strictly necessary, flicking my eyes over the hall table, but unable to see the key from the angle I’m at right now.
I move into my office and stand there for a full minute, staring at the desk.
The chain is gone.
I let out a breath. And then I’m smiling as I saunter back out into the hall.
The key is also missing, but in its place is something else.
My smile falls. This isn’t part of the game.
I reach forward and pick the small folded piece of card up. It’s exquisite, like her. And on it are two words that make my mind spin and my heart miss a beat, because no one has ever said them to me before.
Thank you.
There is no way I’m not keeping this woman.
Chapter Two
“Do we need to have another talk?”
I’m out of sorts. I know it. Haydee is coming tonight and I can think of little else. I can’t work. I can’t answer the phone. I can’t function. It’s been a long time since I was this close to losing control.
I need a distraction. I need to take back control. There are two ways to achieve it. I know this. They’ve worked for me in the past. I throw myself into work and not go home. Not see my pet.
Or I go to the club and drown myself in an indulgence. Test my resolve. Just a few hours should do it. Because already I know I will not miss Haydee’s visit. Already I know she is my drug, my indulgence, of choice.
It’s too soon. There’s too many ways this could go wrong. We haven’t even established a routine. But my mind craves her. My cock is hard for her. I’m losing my mind with the images of her on my desk. Wrapped up in my chain.
Will she wear it tonight?
Of course she will. They all do. But something tells me Haydee wearing my chain will be different. I’m not sure why, and I’m tempted to phone Jason and ask the thousand questions clattering for prominence inside my mind. Where did he find her? Where did she come from? Why does she choose this lifestyle?
I’ve never asked before. I’ve never been moved enough to consider asking. And even now, I know I will keep my silence, because silence is control. And I must have it.
I didn’t choose this lifestyle. It chose me. I didn’t wake up one day and decide dating was an inconvenience I couldn’t suffer. I didn’t give up on relationships or marriage or a partnership where the television becomes the central conduit of our lives.
It all gave up on me.
I turn away from my desk, suddenly unable to breathe. My eyes stare at nothing, but I know what it is I should be seeing. The road outside my office. Police cars coming and going from the station carpark. I don’t see it, because all I see is her.
Why now? Why Haydee? What has this woman got that has made my past come crashing back in uninvited?
My phone rings on the desk behind me. I ignore it.
Several seconds later there’s a soft knock at my door.
“Superintendent?” Christine asks, her mousy voice an irritant I can do without right now.
“What is it?” I say, not turning around to face her. I can see the street now. At least Christine’s interruption has banished unwanted memories from my mind.
“A call from the assistant commissioner, sir. Shal
l I take a message?”
There are many people I can ignore should they phone me. But not Jason. Sometimes I wonder if he reads minds. How did he know to phone me right now?
“I’ll take it,” I say, turning back to my desk. “Line two?”
“Yes, sir,” she says, and ducks out of the room before I make eye contact. She’s new, and completely submissive. Strangely not once have I considered her as a pet.
“Jason,” I say into the hand-piece as I settle myself back into my chair.
“I thought I’d hear from you first thing,” he says in way of greeting. “I send such an exquisite package to your door and you don’t even thank me?”
My free hand fists on the blotter-pad on top of my desk. An unexpected rush of jealousy laden adrenaline fuels my system. How well does he know Haydee?
“Where did you find her?” I ask instead of the accusations that taunt me.
“She’s just returned home from overseas,” he says. “Ten years in London doing an extended OE.”
“And she just happened to walk into our world?”
“Oh, no. She came with references.”
I want to ask. I don’t want to know. Confusion is a foreign emotion for me.
“The Inferno?” I say, voice devoid of any emotion at all.
“She visited Sweet Hell and David Gordon found her. He had high hopes she’d agree to a session in the Irreverent Inferno, but she politely declined.”
“Politely declined?” Not many subs turned down an opportunity to enter an exclusive sex club.
“Something about David turned her off.” That wasn’t surprising. But still…
“And your connection to her?”
“I was there when she did it. I’m not sure what’s she after, you’ll have to discover that for yourself, but there was something about her poise that made me think of you. I approached her after David got distracted with someone else, and asked if she’d be interested in a more formal arrangement with an experienced Dom.”
“She obviously said yes,” I guess.
“She said she was open to an invitation.”
“I see.”
H.E.A.T. Book Bundle (H.E.A.T. Books 1-3) Page 67
