WaitingforDessert

by Chastity Vicks

  “Strip,” Vivienne ordered curtly. “I want to see you. Now.”

  “Yes, Miss!” he acceded eagerly, his fingers already closing on the hem of his sweater, tugging it quickly over his head.

  She could already see the tempting swell of his cock outlined within his pants and she suppressed a smile at the way his hands shook when he began to work at his belt.

  Vivienne stepped away, crossing to the bed where she had already laid out her high-waisted black pencil skirt and the sheer ivory blouse she intended to wear with it. She stepped into her black leather pumps, reaching down to adjust the three-inch heels, smirking as she listened to the sounds of Ash near frantically scrambling out of his clothes behind her. Vivienne whisked the skirt from the bed as his chinos hit the floor, belt buckle rattling, and she pulled the smooth fabric up over her stockings, jutting her hip to the side as she slid the zipper up the narrow curve of her waist.

  They would be here soon. Her guests. Her coworkers. Her boss. Luis Reyes, the CEO’s brother…so many fucking people! Her heart pounded for a moment as the reality of what she intended to do sank in, growing cold and irrefutable. Was this really a good idea?

  Vivienne pushed the pulses of anxiety away and took a small bottle from the nightstand. Uncapping it, she swiped the stopper along her wrists and the curve of her throat. The scent of gardenias filled the air, sweet and rich above the smells of cooking that filtered up from downstairs.

  She knew from his intake of breath that Ash had identified the fragrance…the one she wore only for him. Tonight she would wear it around her guests, this scent that had become so redolent of sex, of pleasure and anticipation and their shared passion, and only she would know its meaning.

  Well, only she…and the man hidden in her bedroom, bound and silent.

  Vivienne was torn between a deep coursing of excitement at the prospect and the sheer blind panic that surged at the thought that—just maybe—she shouldn’t be trying to do this. It could go so badly wrong, and wasn’t she the one who was so worried about making any facet of her sex life public? What in the hell was she thinking? After all, it would take no more than a guest blundering through the wrong door in search of the bathroom and Ash would be uncovered…quite literally.

  She slipped her blouse on, the smooth, sensuous fabric whispering against her freshly showered skin, and her fingers worked deftly over the small, neat mother-of-pearl buttons. The garment hugged her figure, tailored to fit and flatter without revealing too much, the satin lining designed to keep her underwear from view while the organza skimmed in sheer flutes over her slender arms—just another mask she wore. Vivienne kept her breathing tightly controlled, focusing on the movements of her fingers as she fastened her blouse.

  When she turned around, smoothing the fabric down over her waist, she found Ash waiting, standing in a perfectly still, perfectly beautiful state of anticipation.

  Naked, he took the breath from her just by the sheer, simple fact of his magnificence. His lean body—the firm, elastic frame of a man who ran, swam and climbed rather than spending hours in the gym—was elegant in its masculinity, an entrancing collage of long, hard lines and shallow curves. His arms hung loosely at his sides, his posture erect but not rigid, his palms turned toward her. Only the subtle movements of his breathing reflected the tension within him…that and his half-hard cock, already thickened and reaching up as if begging with lazy sensuality to be touched. Just looking at him made Vivienne hungry, and not for the elaborate dinner cooking downstairs.

  She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. It was almost six thirty and she was running out of time. Uncertainty pounded beneath her ribs. Should she tell him to get dressed? Send him out to get his own dinner elsewhere? Hide him in the damn closet until all of this was over and she had time to actually think?

  The indecision and anxiety threatened to tear her open and she had to fight to preserve her calm exterior. The illusion was almost shattered when Ash looked at her, his hazel eyes warm and full of trust, and simply said, “I’m ready, Miss.”

  A rush of warmth flooded Vivienne, filling her to bursting with mingled pride, yearning, relief and above all a fierce possessiveness that burned inside her, scorching away her uncertainty. She’d been frightened of that feeling once—the desire, no, need to consume someone, to have him submit to her entirely—and frightened of admitting how much she depended on being needed, being wanted in the way that Ash wanted her.

  She could see it in his face. He knew exactly what she was asking—what she was offering—and he wanted it. Wanted all of this. The danger, the excitement…the trust. This was their dirty secret, their clandestine pact against the world. He was giving himself to her completely, standing there in his nakedness, his bare skin a pale, beautiful bloom against the soft air.

  This was his gift and Vivienne wanted to take it. Her gaze roved hungrily over his body—his firm thighs, his taut belly, his beautiful cock, tight nipples, lean shoulders—and she needed him. A visceral ache beat in her cunt, her mouth practically watering as she thought about the ways she could mark him. Her fingers itched for all the things she could do…the slaps, the love bites, the cinching of soft rope against his skin, and warmth quivered between her lips.

  More than anything, she wished there was more time. Downstairs, the oven timer pinged faintly, indicating the ballotines were done and—if she didn’t want this entire evening to start going wrong—she needed to get the hors d’oeuvres ready.

  Vivienne drew a breath over her teeth.

  She was moving before she realized it, going to him, wrapping her arm around his neck and catching his smooth-shaven cheek in her hand, dragging his face down to hers. She kissed him hard, relishing the hot rush of his breath as he gasped against her mouth. Vivienne pressed her body against his, feeling the hardness of his cock trapped between them and the delicious little pulses of response in his body as she parted his lips with her tongue, demanding his acquiescence.

  Ash yielded readily, his mouth opening to hers and his hands moving tentatively to hold her…something she hadn’t given him permission to do. Vivienne suppressed a shiver at his touch on the back of her waist. She wanted it—wanted him and every last grain of his attention—but there was no time.

  If they were going to do this stupid, crazy thing, they were going to do it right.

  “Get your ass on the bed,” she murmured, pulling roughly away from his lips.

  Ash obeyed, his cheeks flushed and his eyes shining. Vivienne watched his tight, pale butt as he moved, her pussy clenching on thoughts of biting into it with hands, teeth, crop or cock. Her nipples were hard as pebbles, mercifully contained behind the light padding of her bra, but she knew this evening was going to test her resolve to the extreme.

  She watched her boy clamber onto the bed, her eyes following every tiny, perfect movement as he laid himself down on the pale coverlet, legs slightly apart and arms softly spread, ready to be bound against the bedframe. For a moment Vivienne thought she should ask him again if he was sure about this…but Ash had already given her all the permission she needed. Now it was her turn to be brave, to be strong, to mold herself into a column of steel. He gave her that power. His submission, his devotion, his utter compliance seeped right into her core where it remade her—better, brighter, bolder.

  A muscle clenched in her jaw and she stood in silence with her hands on her hips, waiting, as if she could taste him with her gaze. Once he was settled, Vivienne crossed to the nightstand, trailing her fingers up his thigh as she passed him and smiling at the shiver of his flesh beneath her touch.

  She took a pair of thick, supple black leather cuffs from the drawer and fastened them gently around his wrists. The shiny chrome D-rings on the restraints provided the perfect anchor for a swift twist of nylon rope, which Vivienne then wound around the bedposts. The ties were tight enough to stop Ash wriggling around too much but not so tight he’d be completely immobile. Perhaps more importantly, there was no risk of the rope making a noise
if he tugged at it, the way that chain links would. After all, the last thing Vivienne wanted was for her guests to be able to hear the naked man shackled to her bed testing his bonds.

  She moved to the foot of the bed, repeating her performance with another set of restraints on his ankles, secured with a second threading of rope and, that done, she took a moment to simply look at Ash, surveying her handiwork.

  He gazed up at her, his hazel eyes wide and full of admiring affection.

  So beautiful…

  Every inch of him, spread taut and pale, spread just for her. Vivienne couldn’t help smiling and she ached to touch him, to own him once more.

  Just a few minutes.

  She hitched her skirt up and began clambering onto the bed, ready to kneel across his face. Ash’s lips parted in expectation, his head rising from the pillow as he strained toward her.

  “We’ll have to be quick,” Vivienne reminded him, tugging her panties to the side. “They’ll start arriving soon.”

  She knelt over Ash’s face, lowering her pussy to his waiting mouth and throwing back her head as his hot tongue touched her slit. He delved hungrily between her lips, sucking eagerly at her soft folds and flicking at her clit. She shuddered, grinding down onto his face, chasing the intensity of pleasure that dwelled in his hot, talented mouth.

  Ash groaned against her, lapping hungrily as Vivienne crushed her hot cunt to his mouth, riding the swelling waves of pleasure that blistered through her. She reached down, grabbing at his hair, pulling him deeper between her stocking-clad thighs until she knew his lungs would be screaming for air. Then, abruptly, she pushed herself away, forcing herself back on her haunches despite her throbbing pussy and the near-desperate urge to ride her boy’s face until she came, to drown him in her juices and leave him slick and panting.

  Her legs shook a little as she climbed off the bed, the weight of a peak she’d barely begun to scale swelling within her, and promised herself that later she would take all the time she needed with her boy.

  All the time he deserves.

  He looked so good, lying there with his wet mouth rosy, her perfumed juices glossy on his skin and his cock standing to full, rigid attention. Vivienne slid her wet panties back into place, trailing a finger along her hot, damp slit and then bringing it to her mouth, tasting her pleasure as she regarded him with a cool, even gaze.

  “You’ll be quiet, won’t you, sweetie?” she asked as she smoothed her skirt down again.

  Ash, still a little glassy-eyed and short of breath, nodded fervently.

  “Yes, Miss.”

  “All right. Be good and I’ll see you later.”

  He nodded again, his elbows propped on the pillows on either side of his head and his hands hanging softly curled in the cuffs. The only part of him not at perfect repose was his cock, straining upward in aching desperation, and Vivienne couldn’t resist giving him a few strokes as she leaned down to kiss him.

  Ash pumped up into her grasp as his lips opened eagerly to hers, his moan of pleasure tapering to a groan of frustration as she pulled away.

  “Be good,” Vivienne reminded him as she left the room, pulling the door not quite closed behind her.

  She heard his strangled whimper—he’d realized just how vulnerable he really was—and smiled to herself as she went back downstairs, trying to ignore the shakiness in her legs.

  Chapter Seven

  Leaving Ash upstairs truly was a wrench but, as Vivienne rushed through the last-minute preparations—heating the preprepared hors d’oeuvres, getting the pitchers of cocktails out and popping the plates into the warming drawer—her mind started to turn from the intensity of her arousal to the evening yet to come.

  Her pulse hummed as the doorbell rang for the first time, and she almost scattered the mini empanadas she was plating across the kitchen floor. Walking to her own front door seemed a marathon and with the light scent of her gardenia perfume warming on her skin, Vivienne was convinced she must be giving some obvious outward sign, some betrayal of her secret. She’d checked her appearance in the large mirror in the hall, repaired her lipstick and made sure there were no wet spots on her skirt but she still couldn’t shake the nervousness. Oh she hadn’t been happy about opening her home to everybody at the best of times, but this…What had she been thinking?

  She fixed her smile in place as she opened the door, revealing her colleague Christina—voluptuously splendid in a low-cut blue top and deep-green skirt that shone like jewels against her dark skin—and a slender Asian guy whom she introduced as her boyfriend David.

  “Are we early?” Christina wanted to know. “I’m sorry… I hate being the first one in…”

  Vivienne waved the words away with a smile. “No, you’re fine. Come in. Somebody’s always got to arrive first, right?”

  There were smiles and polite laughter and David presented her with a bottle of mid-priced wine that was a sweet gesture but wouldn’t really go with anything Vivienne had cooked. She kept her smile in place anyway and ushered them through to the living room, where a few scented candles were burning—the same peppermint-and-vanilla-scented soy blend she used on Ash. Another little secret that Vivienne enjoyed holding close. Music spilled into the quiet places, breaking up the silence.

  “Wynton Marsalis?” David asked as the cool comfortable jazz pooled around them.

  Vivienne smiled. “Yes. You a fan?”

  It was a handy icebreaker—she knew Christina’s taste ran that way—and the three of them chatted amiably for a little while about music while Vivienne went to and fro, fetching drinks and nibbles. By the time the doorbell rang again, David had gobbled three of the mini spiced beef empanadas and was enthusing over the lime sour cream dip that went with them.

  Vivienne excused herself and went to greet the next guests.

  * * * * *

  By twenty to eight, the last stragglers were safely gathered in and Vivienne’s living room was full of chatter, laughter and more visitors than she usually had to contend with over several months. Amanda had arrived along with her rather taciturn fiancé Tom, while the three male members of the team, Derek, Jay, and Ian had brought their respective girlfriends Lorna, Sarah and, in Ian’s case wife, Virginie. Originally from France though educated in England, she retained a light, lilting accent that danced across the conversation. She was prone to peppering almost any subject with comparisons to the European way of doing things.

  Vivienne didn’t mind. It distracted people and kept the chatter moving, and that gave her more time to compose her nerves and try to stop thinking about Ash, bound and naked on her bed.

  Luis Reyes was the last to arrive, welcomed enthusiastically into the throng. Vivienne quietly noted the way Amanda positioned herself at his shoulder, effectively adopting him for the evening and taking it upon herself to monopolize his attention and laugh at all his jokes.

  Vivienne didn’t care. She supposed under other circumstances she might have but somehow it didn’t seem important. It was her cooking that Reyes was filling his face with, her cocktails that he was knocking back as he complimented her beautiful old house. Aside from her, he was the only person there without a partner—or, Vivienne reminded herself sharply—anyone ostensibly present. That fact saved her from the good-natured yet irritating smiles of her coworkers, the polite pity of all these couples for poor, single Vivienne. She was hard put not to laugh aloud when she thought of what was waiting for her upstairs.

  It could have been much worse, however. The cocktails Ash had mixed went down well, the sweet, light flavors loosening everybody up as the jazz continued to rub the edges off the atmosphere and the conversation flowed.

  They talked about work, about the team’s recent exemplary efforts, the influx of new opportunities and rave reviews and the assorted successes that Reyes’ visit was to celebrate. He seemed pleasant enough, Vivienne was surprised to discover. Certainly he was eager enough to dispel any awkwardness that came with his position and apparently genuinely interested in the team
and everything they’d done to make the project a success.

  An air of congratulatory pride hung over everything, but as Christina talked tech details of the web-based marketing campaign, Vivienne’s mind moved with terrible, rapid clarity back to the reality of tonight and the ridiculous thing she was doing.

  When Christina mentioned the name of the IT firm they had contracted some of the work to—Ash’s firm, though he’d had no personal involvement on this particular project—Vivienne’s sip of wine turned to vinegar in her mouth. She swallowed slowly, resisting the urge to splutter and cough, and excused herself to the kitchen for a moment, allegedly to check on the food.

  The last few stargazer lilies nodded in the convection of heat that filled the room, the warmth the oven kicked out filling the entire kitchen with a light miasma of hazy air and delicious aromas. Beyond the little window, velvety shadows pooled in the garden. Vivienne rested her hand against the counter, leaning heavily for a moment as the craziness of the evening sank in. What was she thinking? Her heart lurched every time she thought someone was going to ask where the bathroom was and she was severely tempted to run upstairs and put a padlock on her bedroom door. As if several feet of thick chain wouldn’t arouse suspicion.

  She thought of Ash and that last sight of him bound there—still and vulnerable but so completely trusting—and for the first time, she realized how incredibly wet she was. Vivienne squeezed her thighs together, all at once empowered and faintly mortified by the heat and the swell of pleasure in her pussy. Her clit ached to be touched, her damp panties a torturous stimulation on her lips, and all she wanted to do was shove everybody out of the front door so she could get back upstairs to her boy.

  “Everything all right?” Ian asked from the doorway. “Can I lend a hand or anything?”