‘Why not?’
Oh boy …
Delicious apprehension crawled across her skin, but then without warning Jay smirked and held the little clamps against his ears. ‘Do they suit me?’
Despite the tension, Sandy laughed.
‘Uh-oh, this is serious business,’ he reproved, his face not quite straight as he held the jewelled toys out in front of him, swinging the little pendants.
Christ, they looked heavy.
‘Why not?’ he asked her.
‘I daren’t. I once tried some makeshift nipple clamps after I saw a woman wearing them in one of the magazines that Greg lends to Kat to get her going.’
Sandy blushed as Jay’s dark eyebrows rose. ‘So you like to read erotic magazines, do you? I wish I’d known; I’d have sent some of those too.’ Obviously they’d got far beyond any kind of pretence that it wasn’t him who’d sent the sexy booty.
‘I was curious.’
‘So am I. What do you mean by “makeshift” nipple clamps, Princess? I’m dying to know here.’
Sandy blushed furiously. This was far more embarrassing than anything they’d done together. Stupid, really. She stared at her toes and almost fidgeted like a naughty child, then wondered if Jay would find that amusing.
‘Um … well, I tried a clothes peg, but it hurt so much I screamed and kicked over the bathroom stool.’
Jay’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Bloody hell, I’m not surprised. Clothes pegs are very blunt tools to use on tender little nipples like yours.’ Without warning, he brushed the back of his hands against said tender little nipples and the surge of pleasure that induced almost made her sigh. ‘I like playing kinky little games, but I’m not into brutal pain like that, love, and I’ve a feeling you aren’t either.’ His fingertips swept lightly across her breasts again, still holding the jewelled clamps. ‘I like pleasure and experimentation, a bit of pervy exploratory fun, nothing heavy.’
She looked at him again, into his eyes. They were steady and bright, and she felt safe with him. He was a horny, highly sexed man, but he was caring, not a selfish domineering brute.
‘Now these … These are much more suited to the purpose.’ Palming one of the clamps, he showed her the other more closely. ‘They screw on, and we only have to tighten them sufficiently that they stay in place. No sadistic torture involved, and they certainly wouldn’t keep the washing on the line.’
Sandy let out a bubble of nervous laughter, her heart beating wildly. God, she wanted to try them. They were pretty, and she had a feeling that they weren’t quite as mild as Jay was making out, but she could still take it.
The way he smiled at her, slowly, and creamily, told her he was as keen to play now as she was. If not more.
‘Take off your dress.’
The words were low, intent, almost mellow, but Sandy felt so excited she was afraid she might sway on her feet. Dragging in a breath, she braced herself and lifted her chin. Not in defiance, but to try to fool him she wasn’t afraid. She probably wasn’t fooling him one bit, but the act of attempting to gave her confidence and strength.
Reaching behind her, she whizzed down the zip of her dress, acutely aware of cooler air hitting her back. It wasn’t cold in the room, the echo of the central heating still warmed the air, but her skin was so feverish there was an appreciable temperature difference. And even more so when she shook the dress off her shoulders and allowed it to slide off, down her body, until she could step out of it. In a show of bravado she kicked it away, sending it coasting along the wooden floor and beneath one of the chequer-clothed tables.
Aware of Jay’s eyes scrutinising her in the minutest detail, she glanced quickly towards the window, and saw her own reflection.
A shapely girl with piled-up hair, wearing a gorgeous bra and a tiny G-string that barely hid her pubes. Her thighs were bisected by bands of dark lace, the tops of her stockings, but her bare hips and flanks gleamed exotically in the soft lamplight of the ordinary room where she spent so much of her working life. They were enclosed in their own little bubble of space and time here, and yet at the back of her mind Sandy was aware that anyone in the upper chambers of the Town Hall across the precinct square could look in and see her in her undies. They’d have to have binoculars to see any details, and at this time of year, with the Christmas lights already blinking and flashing outside, an illuminated window might not be quite so noticeable, but that still didn’t mean there couldn’t be someone lurking in a darkened room up there, watching the show.
The thought of being observed while playing some perverse little game of pain and pleasure with Jay made her clit ache.
‘What are you smiling at?’ enquired Jay, smiling too.
‘Someone might be watching us, from across the precinct.’ She nodded towards the decorated space outside, beyond their own zone of light and intimacy. ‘With the lights on people can see in.’
Jay moved in, close enough for her to feel his breath on the side of her face. His hand settled against her flank. He was still holding the little clamps and they were cool and sharp-feeling against the surface of her skin.
‘Does it excite you? The idea of being on show? It does me. I like the idea of others looking, but only me touching and exploring.’
Closing her eyes, Sandy melted, leaning against him like a magnet attracted to its polar opposite, its match. It was so easy to be soft with him, pliant. His presence granted her the freedom not to have to fight and struggle.
‘Let down your hair,’ he purred, his mouth touching her skin now, tongue sneaking out, pointed and insolent, tasting her cheek. Then, as suddenly as he’d approached, he dropped a kiss on her neck and spun away towards the nearest table. The little clamps tinkled as he dropped them on a place mat, and he dragged a chair out, reversed it and sat down, his elbows folded across the top of its back.
‘Let down your hair, Princess,’ he said again, more firmly. She pulled out the pins, and the little band, and flung them away. Her hair slithered down over her shoulders, long, but not long enough to cover her body, her breasts. Tipping her head, she flipped the mass of it back, exposing her shoulders.
‘Exquisite. The woman of my dreams.’ His voice was rough, like a metal comb dragged over suede. ‘Literally.’
‘So you say.’
‘So I know,’ he growled. ‘Don’t argue with me, woman. Show me the goodies.’
For half a heartbeat Sandy stuck her tongue out at him, which made him laugh, then she straightened her face, closed her eyes, smoothed her hands over her hair again and then slid them over her shoulders and on down to cup her breasts.
‘Good … good. Now, strum your nipples, tickle them through the satin.’
Sandy complied, biting her lip. How could the tips of her breasts already be so sensitive, so aroused? She’d done nothing to them yet, maybe just brushed the cloth of her bodice against them in the course of stripping off her dress.
It’s you. The way you look at me. The way you talk to me. You don’t even have to touch me … although God, how I love it when you do.
Thumbs moving slowly, she shimmied her hips, shaking her hair again. She was a dancer now, a burlesque performer, a goddess of sex. Rolling her shoulders, she thrust out her chest, plucking at her nipples through the soft cups of her bra.
‘Excellent … better … but I need more. Flip down the cups of your bra and show me your beautiful breasts.’
Sandy felt as if there was a band around her chest, making it tricky to breathe. She swallowed hard. Jay’s grey eyes upon her had weight, they were a heavy desiring beam cruising her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. Her hands felt heavy too, and her fingers were difficult to control. But she obeyed him, reaching into first one satin cup then the other, pushing them down, prising out each breast and letting them rest on the pushed-down fabric. Unable to look down at herself, she glanced across to the darkened window and saw herself looking lewd and sleazy, but also high class. Like a two-thousand-dollar-an-hour call girl, going through her moves
for her client. Against the pallor of her skin, her nipples were smoky smudges, pert and dark.
‘Touch them.’
There was no question about what he meant.
Jay’s eyes were fiery, and the way he didn’t hide that heat made her confidence surge and rise. She loved him as Mr Cool, but she adored his ardour more. Looking at him steadily, she licked the middle finger of each hand and then applied them to her teats, and made naughty little circles.
His eyes just as steady, Jay laughed, rising to his feet, closing on her. Sandy circled faster, gyrating her hips in a mock bump and grind. As if unable to hide his admiration, Jay let out a gasp. He was beside her now, and she realised that he’d snatched up the little clamps as he’d approached.
‘Be still now,’ he whispered, his cheek against hers again, his breath making the shorter strands of her hair around her face feather and lift.
Dashing her hands away, he brought one of the clamps to her left nipple and, pulling out the stiff little peak of flesh, he slid it into the tiny metal jaws. And then began to tighten it.
Pressure. Light at first, then firmer, more noticeable. Not painful, not in the beginning. But hinting at it. Then hinting more acutely. Starting to hurt a little, but still not awful. Starting to hurt more, and be a bit awful. But also breathtakingly dark, perverse and wonderful.
Sandy groaned, her hips moving again, not in a dance, but because she couldn’t keep them still.
‘How does that feel?’
He let the Swarovski jewel dangle and swing. She bit her lip, feeling her sex react to the stimulus and silky fluid well between her labia.
‘Not bad,’ she hissed, as he flicked the pendant crystal.
He gave her a slow smile that told her he knew she was lying. It did feel bad, but also transcendent, and altering, and she wanted more.
‘Indeed,’ he observed, then, in small neat movements, he dressed her other breast with sparkling brilliance.
‘Oh my, oh my,’ he murmured, flicking the gems again and making her gasp and want to clasp at her crotch, rub herself, slip her fingers beneath the narrow band of silk there and manipulate her clit. When her hands moved uneasily, heading that way, Jay’s sharp glance noted and recorded the action.
‘Oh no, no, no, young lady!’ he chided and, within a moment, he’d fished around in the box and drawn out a long length of gleaming black satin.
Her bonds.
Catching first one hand then the other, he drew them behind her, and secured them lightly but firmly at the small of her back. The tails of the bow dangled down, floating against her bottom and the backs of her thighs, light as thistledown.
The clamps hurt. They really did. But what they did to her between her legs was so intense she barely noticed the pain. It was as if silken filaments, black silk filaments like the ribbons around her wrists, were stretched from the tips of her breasts to the tip of her clitoris. Every slight movement, even a breath, was excruciatingly exciting.
When Jay took her by the upper arm and pulled her close to him, the jewels swung and she drew in a harsh breath, fighting the urge to rub her thighs together. As she gasped again, Jay kissed her voraciously, plunging his tongue into her mouth, drawing the gasp into his mouth with the force of the kiss.
Sandy wanted to hug him, hold him, rub herself against him, abrade her clamped nipples against his jacket and drag the gems to and fro. She wanted more. More pain. More stimulation. More everything.
More Jay. A lot more Jay.
The kiss went on and on. The need to grab and hold and rub and rock went on and on. Sandy wanted to scream, but he was controlling her voice with the force of his lips and tongue.
Even as she melted, though, she wanted to fight him. How could that be? It certainly hadn’t seemed that way in those mags of Kat’s she’d glanced at. You were either submissive or dominant, clear-cut, black and white. But she felt like she was both.
A handmaiden and a combatant. Her spirit rising, she battled his tongue in her mouth, pushing back, giving as good as she was getting. And when Jay laughed, she laughed too, the mirth blending in the searing wet kiss.
‘Princess, you are amazing,’ he growled as they broke apart.
‘You don’t give up, do you?’
‘Never!’ she shot back at him, then darted forward, nipping at his jawline and the lobe of his ear.
Without warning, his hand grabbed her crotch, squeezing. He tightened the grip, massaging in a fast hard rhythm. Press, press, press. One long finger rubbed against the narrow band of fabric, pushing it against her entrance, her perineum. He prodded her rudely, tickling and teasing.
Sandy breathed hard. Him touching her there was gorgeous but aggravating. She wanted more direct pressure on her clit, solid stimulation. Good, hard, solid rubbing to bring her off, fast and furiously, like a chain of fireworks. But he denied her, loosening his hold and just patting the gusset of her G-string, over the hot zone.
‘Not yet … not yet … We’re playing, remember? I want to wind you up and wind you up before you come.’
‘You’re evil,’ she hissed at him, trying to bear down. ‘Bastard!’ she added when he withdrew his hand.
Jay gave her an odd distant look, the expression in his eyes suddenly a million miles from their fierce erotic contest. Then in one blink of his long black lashes it was gone again, and he was laughing and leering at her once more.
‘Aren’t I just?’ Then he kissed her again, all tongue and moisture and muscularity, while he slid a hand between their bodies and played devilishly with the clamps.
Sandy’s hips jerked. Her clit thudded. She was almost there, but she needed contact. Perhaps just a whisker of a touch. She tried to rub herself against his thigh, but he sidestepped her, and began to walk her towards the table to her rear.
When they reached it, he broke the kiss, gave her a demon smile – and suddenly lifted her off her feet, his hands at her waist, and sat her down on the table.
Sandy’s heart pounded and she felt breathless. It shouldn’t be easy to forget how strong he was, but she had. And to be lifted up bodily thrilled her anew, triggering memories and responses, both new and old. She was Princess, but he was her Prince. Her Prince Charming. The man who would always sweep her away.
His eyes holding hers, he pushed her a little way across the table, wrinkling the cloth. Impatiently, he moved the little bowl of flowers and the condiments, dumping them on the counter. Sandy could have sprung up at that moment, but she just sat there as if he’d stapled her to the wooden surface beneath the chequered fabric.
He returned to her and brushed the hair away from her face again, arranging it, caressing it. Then with spread fingers on her bare midriff, he pressed her backwards, forcing her to rest on her loosely bound hands. The position wasn’t exactly comfortable, but perversely she didn’t want it to be. She was vulnerable, off balance, and it excited her more than ever, if that were possible.
Jay spun away from her and shucked out of his elegant black suit jacket, flinging it over a nearby chair. Beneath it, his silk shirt clung to his shoulders. He was a strong man. He could do anything to her. Anything he wanted. She wriggled on the table, silently begging him to begin.
What would it be? Fingers? Cock? Tongue? Toys?
Would it be pain? Or more pleasure? Much more pleasure?
I want all of it! Goddamnit, give me the lot!
Clasping his hands, Jay rubbed one thumb across his other palm, obviously thinking and scheming. His eyes darted from her body, awkwardly displayed, to the box of toys, then back again. Around his firm mouth, a little smile played, wicked and contemplative.
‘All these toys,’ he said, crossing to the box, ‘and we’ve barely sampled any of them yet. What shall we try next?’ Still glancing at her as he worked, he sifted through the packaging, his scarred face animated as he assessed the items. From time to time he quirked an eyebrow, but he didn’t show her whatever it was that interested him.
The perverse devil … Sandy had e
xamined most of the toys in the box, and her chest tightened in anticipation. What would it be? There were beads and butt plugs, and a diabolical selection of vibrators. Some were sweet and aesthetic and efficient, like the thoughtfully fashioned one she’d already tried. But others were bizarre and unlikely and elaborate. Constructions shaped like rabbits and penguins and God alone knew what else.
‘How about this?’
Sandy swallowed hard. ‘This’ was a slyly innocuous-looking egg-shaped object, marbled rosy pink, with a silver woven cord attached. She’d seen something similar at Kat’s sex-toy party, and the idea of it had made her squirm. Jay swung it by its cord, letting its weight make a pendulum of it. It looked heavy and unyielding. Her belly surged and she couldn’t speak, but her silence made him smile.
He understood. God how he understood. He knew she yearned for the tricky little thing, even though she feared it.
‘This, then,’ he confirmed, giving the egg one last twirl before reaching into the box and pulling out a tube of lubricant.
She tried not to cringe as he placed the egg and the lube on the table beside her, then ran a hand up the inside of her stocking-clad thigh. Carefully, he drew her legs apart, forcing her to adjust her position and adjust the placement of her hands on the tablecloth behind her. Lifting one of her legs, he pulled a chair close and set her foot on it. With narrowed eyes, he studied the arrangement of her limbs, and then adjusted the chair a little to one side, making her thighs stretch wider and her pussy open and pout.
Sandy closed her eyes as her feminine fragrance filled her nostrils.
‘Gorgeous,’ pronounced Jay, touching her belly, then her thigh, pushing and inching it further from the other one. He nudged the chair a little way, opening her wider, then reached down and slid two fingers beneath her G-string.
‘Oh Princess, Princess, I’m not even sure that we’ll need this.’ He touched the lubricant tube with his free hand while he paddled in her cleft, stretching the now saturated coffee-coloured satin, and fingered her entrance.
Licking her lips, biting them, moving uneasily on the table, Sandy tried to bear down and wiggle his fingers onto her clit. But he wasn’t having any. He pushed one finger into her vagina as far as the knuckle, and just left it there while he kissed her again, running his tongue softly and teasingly over her lips. When he whispered her name against her mouth she clenched down hard on him.
The Gift Page 21
