Chapter Eight
Bianca swallowed her laughter. Clay was about to shatter his teeth. She could hear his molars grinding together.
She pinched his inner thigh and whispered, “Either you get to work on that dial or I’ll make you watch and sit on your hands.”
He growled again and studied the remote. She hadn’t used this particular punishment in a long time because for him, this was the vilest thing she could do. He had a funny view about her pleasure, one she didn’t always agree with. If she wanted to use a damn vibrator she would. The one thing she had relented to without a fight when they got engaged was eliminating third parties from sexual play. While she liked to spice it up with a third, Clay had set a hard limit that he wouldn’t share his wife. For her there was no other and an orgasm was an orgasm, but he needed the tangible evidence. She loved him enough to give him that.
This bullet in particular she’d been saving in her stash, the one she kept separate from their usual arsenal. If he’d realized she’d bought it then using it wouldn’t have been as much fun. For her. He was going to hate the trip to Versailles.
She braced her hand on the seat in front of her and watched Clay’s fingers. He toyed with the gadget, the wrinkles around his mouth communicating his begrudging respect for the sophistication. He did love electronics, which was one reason she’d paid extra money for this model.
He tilted his head toward her and the bullet began a low vibration. Despite knowing it was coming, she still shuddered as her muscles were massaged. She kept her gaze locked with Clay’s. The intensity burning in his gaze ate her up, licking and touching her all over. If it weren’t for the hundred or so people crammed on the train with them, he would be all over her.
“Mm, don’t forget we’re getting off at Javel,” she managed to get out, though the last came out on a soft moan.
“I’m watching.” He leaned closer, almost brushing her cheek with his nose.
The bullet began to vibrate harder. Damn, but she’d bought a powerful piece of technology. She shifted her hips, rolling until she could grind her pussy on the edge of the seat. No one paid them any attention. Hell, no one was the wiser that her husband was going to get her off right here.
Clay bracketed her with his hands, one along her seat back, the other braced in front of her, and leaned toward her. His stubble scraped her cheek as he whispered, “I want to be the one fucking you right now, in front of all these people. You’re gorgeous when you’re turned-on. Your cheeks are pink, your bottom lip is swollen from biting on it. Your nipples are hard, aren’t they?”
His words were a verbal stroke to her libido. Liquid heat soaked her core. Her breasts ached to be touched. She didn’t like pain as much as Clay did, but the way he pinched and rolled the hard peaks during sex was heaven.
She trailed kisses along his jaw and tightened her hold on the seat ahead of her.
The train began to slow and the garbled spiel from the conductor barely registered in Bianca’s brain. The muscles in her abdomen began to flutter. She needed a little more pressure, a little more sensation.
Clay sat back and the vibrations stopped.
Her jaw dropped and she stared at him.
“This is our stop.” One side of his mouth hitched up.
She couldn’t believe him!
He was so getting punished.
“Then move.” She shoved at him, though a lot of good it did her. He didn’t budge an inch.
Clay chuckled, pulled his backpack on and took hers. Good thing too because her legs were jelly and walking made her body ache with lust. Would anyone notice if she jumped her husband’s bones in the middle of the Paris Métro?
Probably.
He took her hand and guided her off the car. They had to cross from the subway over to where the train platforms were.
“You look for the platform, I’ll watch for Mike and Jen.” She tried to take the extra wiggle out of her step, but each stride made her tights slide across her folds, keeping her sensitive to movement.
“Yes Ma’am.” He glanced at her. “You okay?”
She snorted. “The better question is will you be okay when I’m done with you?”
He shook his head and muttered something under his breath, pulling her down the right-hand split of the tunnel. White tiles created an arch large enough for a semi to drive through. There were even little shops set up in the station, but it all passed in a blur.
“I think this is the right platform.” Clay led her up a ramp until they emerged on a breezeway as a yellow line train was pulling in.
“Oh thank god,” she sighed. There were surprisingly few people waiting to board the train, but it was still early and more importantly, she didn’t care what the hell other people were doing. She tugged him toward the train.
“B, wait. We don’t know if this is the right one.”
“Of course it is. Come on.” She pressed the button and the doors popped open. A handful of people were on the lower level of the car so she led Clay up to the second level where they were somewhat alone.
“I really don’t know if this is the right train,” he muttered as she shoved him into the first set of seats.
“Sure it is.” She pushed the backpacks into the next seat and straddled his lap. She cupped his cheeks and kissed him, nipping his lips and pushing her tongue into his mouth.
Clay gripped her hips and guided her to rub the length of his cock. It took willpower to pry her lips from his and direct his hands to her waist. Using him was not part of the deal.
“The remote?”
He scowled and dug it out from his pocket.
She stroked his cheek and smiled. “Does someone have a bad attitude?”
“Maybe,” he grumbled.
Curse him and his honesty! She flipped the top of her backpack open and grabbed two clothespins she’d stuck in the small, inner pocket. She pulled his shirt up and stuffed the hem in his mouth. He glared, but she ignored it. The chain leash hung against his sternum, a physical sign of his punishment. She ran her fingers over the ladder of his abdominal muscles and up to his nipples. She pinched each, testing his flesh, watching the way the tips hardened slightly under her gaze and the lick of cooler air.
Satisfied, she clamped one and then the other with the clothespins. Clay groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. He was such a pain slut, and she kind of loved that about him. It kept her on her toes, coming up with new and creative ways to torture him.
She pulled his shirt down and tidied his clothing. She’d see how long it took for one to slip off.
“Now, give me the remote.”
He shook his head. “Please, no.”
“Are you going to use it like you mean it?” She didn’t want to use the remote. That took brain cells and she was running out of them.
“Yes Ma’am.” He clicked the power button and the low vibrations started once more.
The crotch of her tights was damp, now chilled by the cool air. She was still slick from before.
“More.” She settled her hands on his shoulders.
The vibrations increased, past what he’d offered her before. She leaned against his chest until she could feel the wooden clothespins. Clay winced, but otherwise did not complain.
He licked his lips. “I want to feel you.”
“You are feeling me. Mmm.” Warmth spread through her core and up her stomach into her chest. She wiggled her hips, riding the stiff length trapped by rope and jeans. She needed more pressure. Grabbing his wrist, she guided his other hand to her mound and directed him to cup her, his fingers covering her pussy.
“Yes,” he hissed and dropped his mouth to her neck.
She gasped at the heat from his touch. He didn’t move his fingers, that would have been cheating, but the touch alone was enough.
“More.” She found one of the clothespins and pinched it harder.
He ratcheted the bullet up to a higher speed.
“I want you to use me in public like this,” he grou
nd out from between clenched teeth.
“People could see you.” She ground her clit against his hand.
“So what? They’d know you owned me, body and soul.”
His words of devotion made her heart flutter. She rested her forehead against his and groaned. The bullet went up another notch and she gasped, poised on the precipice. He gently rubbed his fingers over the swollen nub and she dove over into oblivion. Her pussy clamped down on the vibrator, spasming around it, only to be pushed onward by the unforgiving stimulation. It went on forever, pleasure ripping her apart and pulling her together again.
Slowly the vibrations decreased until she lay slumped against Clay’s chest, gasping for breath.
“You’re so damn beautiful when you come like that.” He sighed and pushed her hair off her face, cuddling her to his chest.
“Hmm.” She smiled and wrapped herself around him, content to allow him to support her.
For several moments they stayed like that, his hand drawing lines up and down her spine and her blissfully on the verge of taking a nap. If it weren’t for her thighs cramping, she might have stayed like that until they reached Versailles.
“Want me to do the honors?” he mumbled against her ear.
“Sure.” She glanced over her shoulder. They were still alone in the upper deck of the train car. Weird. She would have thought more people would be headed to the palace. It was a huge tourist attraction.
Clay slid his hand under her dress and pulled the waistband of her leggings down enough to admit his hand. He watched her face as he pushed past her swollen nether lips. Her sensitive flesh rippled at the caress of his rough fingers. She closed her eyes and fisted his jacket as he pulled the bullet out. Her channel clenched on nothing. She swallowed a moan. She was in charge here, not her pussy.
She situated her clothing quickly and oozed into the seat next to him. From her pack, she produced a small cleaning kit she’d put together of moist towelettes, hand sanitizer and a few other items. She wiped the bullet down before dropping it in a plastic baggie and squirting some of the cleansing gel in both their palms.
“Give me a kiss.”
Clay leaned toward her and sweetly pressed his mouth to hers. She hooked a finger around the leash and pulled it out to rest over his shirt.
Surprised, he sat back, glaring down at the length of silver chain. He did not like screwing up. He always tried so hard to be perfect, and when he failed he beat himself up over it no matter how many times she told him one thing or another was okay. He hadn’t said anything, but she suspected he still thought she might leave him someday, but if he was good enough she’d keep him.
Before they’d gotten engaged, when they’d begun discussing their future, they had seen a kink-friendly counselor. The day Clay sat across from her, staring at his shoes, and admitted he still thought she might leave him if he screwed something up still killed her. He hadn’t yet realized that leaving was a two-way street. She had no intention of divorcing him. Ever. She wanted babies and the whole nine yards. With him.
She unclipped the leash and dropped it into her pack. She leaned against him and coiled her arms around his neck, inviting him to cuddle her.
“Punishment’s not over, but I’m rewarding you for remembering who is in charge here.”
“You are,” he said without hesitating.
“You’re right.” She kissed the tip of his nose. Outside, the landscape was a mix of lush green, with a fine mist and urban sprawl. Not what she would expect to see on the way to Versailles. “Crap, we haven’t stopped in a while. Where the hell are we?”
Clay jerked forward, gaping out of the window. “Shit.” He dug the map of the public transit system out of his pocket and unfolded it. “Do you remember what the last station we went through was?”
“Gnocchi or something?”
“Shit. Not Porchefontaine?”
“Porch, fondue what?”
“Shit. Shit. Shit. I bet we’re headed to Saint-Quentin-en-Yvelines and not Versailles-Rive Gauche.” He stood and got their packs together.
“Are you sure we got on the wrong one?” She slid out after him, guilt assailing her. If she’d given him a damn minute at Javel instead of being so horny they would be on the right train.
“No, but I’m going to ask someone.”
She followed him down the stairs. There were only two people on the level blow theirs now, and her heart sank. No wonder the train was so empty. There wasn’t anything out the way of Saint Quentin.
“Excuse me.” Clay approached an older gentleman and held his map out, gesturing as he spoke. “Is this train going to Versailles?”
The man peered at the map for a moment and shook his head. “Non, ce train va à Saint-Quentin.”
“Merci.” He turned toward her, his face contorted. “Crap.”
“I didn’t understand what he said,” she muttered as she followed him back to the map over the doors.
“I’m not sure either, but I doubt we’re headed to Versailles.”
“Monsieur.” The gentleman stood and came toward them, beckoning Clay to examine the large yellow line displayed above the doors. “Vous descendez à St-Cyr, vous retournez à Viroflay Rive Gauche et ensuite vous changez de train à Versailles-Rive Gauche.” He gestured to three different stations as he spoke, St-Cyr, which was definitely not on the line they wanted, and Viroflay-Rive Gauche, which was where they could hopefully jump a train over to their actual destination, Versailles-Rive Gauche.
The train began to slow, and miracle of miracles, they slid into St-Cyr. The gentleman slid the door open the moment the train stopped and stepped out. “En bas de la rampe, jusqu'à le prochain quai pour le train que vous cherchez.”
“What’s he saying?” she whispered to Clay.
“Don’t know, but I think he means we need to go down, under and over to that platform. Merci.”
“Bonne chance.”
They strode down the empty platform, the chill and dampness soaking into her clothes, and descended into an equally deserted station. Clay paused and watched a screen displaying trains arriving and departing.
“Four minutes until the next train.” He sighed and his shoulders slumped.
“It’s not your fault.” She squeezed his arm. “Why don’t we get the raincoats out so we’re ready?”
“Good idea.”
They dug out the matching navy raincoats from the backpack and pulled them on, helping each other situate packs and clothing until they were comfortable and headed up to the departing platform. It was dotted with benches and displays for alcohol or something similar to the best of her knowledge. They stepped inside a Plexiglas shelter and watched for some sign of the train.
“Sorry I screwed this up.”
“It’s not your fault. If anyone’s, it’s mine.”
He grunted and continued to stare down the tracks.
“Hey.” She gripped his arm until he looked at her. “I’m not upset. We’re having fun, and that’s what matters. That’s what we agreed on, right?”
Slowly his shoulders lifted and slid back into place. He captured her waist, resting his hands at the small of her back and sighed. “You’re right. Though anything with you is automatically fun.”
“Oh yeah? Even grocery shopping?” She jabbed his ribs.
He clenched his teeth and rolled his eyes. “Okay, not everything.”
She snickered and buried her face in the crook of his neck. Yet another task she couldn’t do as well as he could. If left up to her, she’d wander down aisles at random, grab whatever fit her fancy and come home with nothing to make a full meal, just ten partial ingredients.
“There’s no one here. It’s like a zombie movie or something.” Clay glanced around at the urban sprawl. There were signs of life, but few and far between near them.
“Don’t you dare say that.” She tweaked one of the clothespins and he winced as it popped off.
“Hey now, I’d protect you from French zombies.” He chuckled and sq
ueezed her tighter.
“I don’t even want to think about that.” Horror movies and her were the stuff of nightmares, mainly Clay’s because after one movie she’d keep him up all night checking under the bed or in the closet, and yet he still conned her into watching them.
She reached up under his shirt, caught the loose clothespin and slid the other off his nipple. Clay hissed, but otherwise held still while she stashed the clips and returned her hands to massage his pecs.
* * * * *
Clay wanted to win.
But he wanted to have fun too.
Bianca hadn’t stated it in so many words, but if he said he wanted to try to win the race, he thought she’d give it her best shot. And then their sexcapades would stop.
“Which way to Versailles?” Bianca had the hood of her raincoat pulled up to shield her head from water dripping off overhangs and trees.
The mist had finally cleared up and the sun was trying to break through the clouds. The humidity was the worst though. It made walking and breathing difficult. Hell, it made anything but breathing hard!
“I’m going to guess in that direction.” He pointed to a sign that said Versailles.
She scowled and slapped his stomach. “Jerk.”
“Hey now.” He grinned and looped an arm around her.
“Do you think Mike and Jen are here already?” She peered up at him, her lip caught between her teeth.
“Probably.”
She sighed. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
“It’s not a big deal. We’re having fun, right?”
“Right.” She smiled and slung an arm around his waist, under the backpack.
They crossed the street with the rest of the tourist foot traffic and followed the signs. Shops lined the walk, showing off all the kitschy items they hadn’t had the opportunity to browse yet. A flutter of aqua-colored fabric caught his eye. He shifted his weight and pivoted them toward the shop.
“What are you doing?” Bianca stumbled into him, maybe a bit dramatically but he held her up.
“Let me look at something real quick.”
CollarMeinParis Page 13
