Intimate Exposure

by Portia Da Costa

She wanted to resent that but almost felt like applauding it.

  Don’t be a wuss, Vick. Admit it. All that bullshit about being happy never to see him again…that’s what it is. Just bullshit. You’ve been dying to get into it with him again.

  “I don’t dance round anything, Red,” she shot back. “What happened, happened, and before you say anything, I freely admit that I enjoyed it.” Oh Lord, that wicked mouth of his, the way it curved… “But that doesn’t necessarily mean I want to repeat it. And even if I did, I might not want to repeat it with you.”

  Liar.

  “You’re such a fibber, Vicki.” In a calculated yet vaguely indolent gesture, Red pulled off his spectacles and began to polish them with a crisply laundered handkerchief he flicked out from his breast pocket.

  Vicki opened her mouth to contradict him but snapped it shut again. She couldn’t deny what she wanted, and what she wanted was…everything. Everything again, and more. With Red Webster.

  But she wasn’t going to lay that out for him. Why bother? He already knew.

  “So if not me, then who else?” He filled the pause by setting his glasses back in place, scrupulously folding his handkerchief and slipping it back into his pocket. “Surely not Martin Earnshaw from the Overseas Division? You don’t think he’s up to the job, do you?”

  Martin Earnshaw was a man she’d seen briefly a month or two ago. Nice, but too fixated on work, and sexually null and void. There’d been no chemistry at all when the crunch had come, and the only time he’d attempted a fumble had been acutely embarrassing and the catalyst of the end.

  But how did Red Webster know about him? It had all been over long before he’d pitched up with his camera, his infuriating smirk and his all-seeing eyes.

  “Have you been checking up on me? How the hell do you know I dated Martin, and what business is it of yours?”

  “Oh, I know all sorts of things. It’s completely my business.” His smile widened, and for a moment, his tongue flicked along his lower lip. Vicki half expected it to be forked. “I meet a gorgeously beautiful woman. One who’s fiery and spirited and who I can just tell shares my…shall we say…special interests.” He glanced down at his hands and studied the palm of his left one. “Of course I’m going to find out as much about her as I can. Especially when she won’t tell me anything herself…” He hesitated again. “Except, of course, by accidentally letting me discover her favorite reading material.”

  There was no point arguing the part with him. Apart from the bit about her e-reader, which had been a genuine accident, what had he said that was so wrong?

  She did share his interests, and if you were interested in someone, you wanted to know more about them. When you fancied someone, it often did make you behave a bit like a stalker. Hadn’t she spent enough time on the internet, trying to trace him to no avail?

  So why the hell can’t I find anything out about you, Mr. Webster? What’s your secret?

  But had she really searched hard enough? There were ways and means, and she could have gone further. Yet she hadn’t. Maybe she was scared?

  Yes, maybe I was too scared to find out about you, because it would mean finding out more about myself?

  “Dropping my e-reader on the floor was a bona fide accident,” she said mutinously.

  Red cocked his head. Again, she got that impression of some great bird of prey sizing her up, assessing her reactions, gauging her response time. Instinctively calculating.

  When he placed his large hand on her arm, she jumped a mile.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” His voice was soft, but his hand stayed where it was, his touch light yet powerful. “And I don’t mean to upset you or offend you or do anything you don’t want—don’t really want…”

  His unusual eyes gleamed behind his spectacle lenses, but there was no threat or challenge in them now. Not for the first time, they were gentle and empathic, hinting at a man who was strong and potent in so many ways, but at heart also kind and humane.

  “But we have a chance here, Vicki. A chance to enjoy ourselves for a couple of days. To experiment…” He shrugged. “No strings. No comeback. Just an adventure. How about it? We don’t have to see each other ever again, and afterwards you could tell yourself it was all just a fantasy.”

  In spite of everything, Vicki found herself smiling.

  Oh, you devil. You’re so seductive.

  Yet still she hesitated, despite the sweet lure of him. “I don’t know anything about you. Why should I trust you?”

  “What do you want to know? What could I tell you that would persuade you?”

  The kind man was still there, but the playful demon had merged with him now. Even if she grilled Red for hours, she had a feeling she wouldn’t get a single straight answer out of him. Not that she could even think of the first question. Befuddled, she stared into the footwell, where his ever-present camera bag was stowed.

  “So, Red, how did you first get into photography?” he asked in a singsong, mocking voice, and she glared at him. He grinned back teasingly, and her ire softened in an instant.

  “Okay, then…how did you first start taking photographs?” she countered, humoring him.

  The question, genuine now, seemed to trigger a transformation. A wistful expression passed across Red’s face, and she acknowledged the return of that gentler, more thoughtful man. But it was more than that. There was nostalgia in him, a faint sadness, something like love.

  “When I was a little boy, my grandfather showed me a great treasure. He was a keen photographer himself and he had album after album of photos he’d taken over the years. Personal snaps…family groups…” Red was gazing out of the window now, but Vicki sensed he wasn’t seeing anything except memories, fading yet precious. Like old snapshots that were beginning to lose their context. “He was very protective of them. He hadn’t shown them to anyone in years.” He paused, and his hand tightened against the leather of the seat, knuckles whitening. “But he was dying, and I think he suddenly realized that he didn’t want his photos—or his memories—to be forgotten. He explained to me who everyone was, and he told me about how he’d composed the shots too. He seemed so alive and happy as he spoke, and those people, so long dead, seemed to come alive too.”

  “Do you miss him?” The question was redundant. It was obvious he did.

  “Yes, I suppose I do. But it was many years ago now. We only had a few weeks, but he showed me all his cameras and explained how they worked, and taught me everything he could, while he still had the strength.”

  Red was still a world and a lifetime away, staring at the passing buildings but not seeing them. On impulse, Vicki touched his hand, and he turned to her. His eyes were gleaming again, but in a way she hadn’t seen before. The sheen of tears?

  “He sounds like a wonderful man. A kind man.”

  “He was,” Red said with wry smile that twisted the corners of his mouth. “He was a tough old bastard, though, and legendary as a ruthless businessman.”

  Suddenly he stopped short, and his face hardened and grew wily again. The gentle boy who’d loved his grandfather had somehow disappeared, only to be replaced by the sharp-eyed demon who loved to tease her.

  “And since then, no matter what else I’m doing in life, I’ve always taken photographs.” The smile widened, white and insolent. “So, do you trust me a bit more now? Or do I have to tell you all about my misspent schooldays and my first-ever crush?”

  Vicki laughed. Her heart seemed to lift as she made a decision. The glimpse behind Red’s mask had made it easy. “No, I’ll pass on school and the crush. Maybe we could save those for small talk over dinner?” She drew in a breath. “But…well…I am in the mood for that adventure. I’ve been working too hard. I feel like some fun, you know?” She stared at him, relishing the return of the game and the chance to strike sparks…fiery red sparks. “I’m probably being a foolhardy idiot…but I’m going to trust you for the time being, Red Webster. Don’t make me regret it.”

>   A look of pure joy crossed his face. He was a devious man, but even he couldn’t have faked that glow, and Vicki was struck again how infinitely expressive his face was, in spite of his dark beard. A shiver of something serious passed through her. She daren’t put a name to it, but it made her shake.

  “Are you okay?” His fingers tightened on her arm. “You’re trembling.”

  “It’s all right. I’m fine. I’m just wondering…um…wondering…”

  “You’ve made the right decision, Vicki.” His smile was mischievous now, but not in an annoying way, not anymore. That devilish smirk was promising. Exciting. Arousing.

  “Shall we celebrate?” He leaned forward and popped a catch to reveal a discreetly concealed drinks cabinet. Not giving her time to gainsay him, he fished out a split of champagne and two narrow flutes.

  Vicki couldn’t help checking her watch. “At ten-thirty in the morning?”

  Even so, the decadence of boozing so early was somehow appropriate.

  “This is a fantasy, remember?” With the deftness of someone who drank champagne all the time, Red eased the cork, filled both flutes and handed one to her without losing a drop. “Here’s to our experiment…our adventure.” He clicked his glass to hers and waited, the epitome of good manners, until she took the first sip.

  The wine was sublime, crisp and light yet almost buttery in its richness on the tongue. It was probably the finest champagne she’d ever tasted, and as a distraction, she glanced at the bottle. To her surprise, it bore no label.

  “What is this? Something from the almighty Shanley’s private reserve?”

  Red took a swig of champagne himself, then ran his tongue slowly over his lip again, this time in obvious appreciation. “Yes, it is, actually. The guy appreciates the finer things in life.”

  His glowing eyes were intent. He wasn’t really talking about vintage champagne at all. When he blinked, just once, behind his glasses, Vicki had to hide a dreamy smile. His lashes were obscenely long and lush for such a large and macho man.

  Uh-oh, it’s happening again…

  She took a long pull at the champagne, her mouth suddenly dry. Reality was shifting around her, just as it had done in the gym. The mirror world of the game was opening up again, and the power play was about to begin.

  If it hadn’t begun already.

  Red took the glass from her hand and set it aside with his in the small inset drinks cabinet. For a moment he just looked at her, his head tilted as was his habit when he seemed to be reading her.

  “Touch your breast,” he said quietly, locking her gaze with his.

  Vicki swallowed, longing for more champagne. She cupped her breast, thumb lightly resting against the nipple. She was wearing a cotton jersey cardigan, a camisole and a thin, light bra, and through them she could feel the tiny crest, as hard to the touch as a fruit stone.

  “Pinch it. Give it a little twist. Roll it between your finger and thumb.”

  It was nothing more than she did when she was masturbating, alone in her bedroom or the bathroom. She’d done it a hundred times, playing with herself and fantasizing. But here, in the back of a speeding car, it was exquisitely new and perverse. Her eyes flicked to the silhouette of their driver through the tinted glass divider.

  “He can’t see you.” Red’s smile was slow, not exactly taunting, but silky. “Perhaps we should let him? He’s a man, he’d enjoy seeing you fondling your breast…” He shrugged.

  “Perhaps not. We don’t want him to put the Rolls into a tree when he’s distracted.” His lambent eyes narrowed. “Come on, Vicki, you’re not doing as you’re told. Pinch your nipple.”

  She obeyed.

  “Harder.”

  She hissed through her teeth as the small pain intensified, and her urges fought a battle inside her. Obedience versus the urge not to hurt herself. The urge to stay still and stoic versus the rampant desire to wriggle voluptuously, fueling the growing ache between her legs.

  “A little harder.”

  Oh God, it was really hurting now. She had to gasp. She had to wriggle. She couldn’t help herself.

  Red surveyed her with Buddha-like calm, his face almost passive, as if unmoved by the show she was putting on. Slowly, he raised a hand to his jaw and began to stroke his beard, fingers moving rhythmically.

  “Yes, I like that,” he said at last. “I like the noises you make… Make more of them. Here, let me.” Without warning, he reached across, dashed her fingers away and tweaked at her nipple himself, and with far more pressure than she’d dare exert.

  Oh God, oh God, oh God…

  Vicki wasn’t quite sure if she’d exclaimed aloud. Probably not. The burning in the tip of her breast was so befuddling she couldn’t form words. She just moaned, long and low, then gasped and panted hard as Red drew her breast out from her rib cage to form a soft cone. Her legs flailed as if he were tugging just as purposefully on her clitoris.

  “What do you want, Vicki?” Still tormenting her, he leaned close and sighed the words in her ear, his breath sweet from the champagne, the fragrance of his body a thousand times more intoxicating.

  “I-I don’t know,” she stammered, tossing her head. She was afloat on a sea of exquisite erotic distress, buoyed up by the tiny, viselike pain in her nipple. It was unrelenting, and even as he increased the pressure, Red kissed the side of her face, her jaw and her throat. The delicacy of the kisses and the brushing sensation of his soft beard were a counterpoint to the torment in her breast.

  “Oh, you do.” His tongue flicked out to lick at the corner of her mouth.

  “I want to come,” she blurted out, the words muffled by the proximity of Red’s mouth. “I need to come… It hurts!” She wasn’t sure whether she was talking about her breast or the acute tension between her legs.

  Red laughed softly against her mouth. “And so you shall. But you have to earn it. We’re nowhere near yet.” With that he began to kiss her again. Slowly and thoroughly on the mouth this time, bestowing upon a her delicious exploration, and stroking with his tongue while his fingertips still delicately wielded their torture.

  Vicki groaned and groaned into Red’s mouth, incapable of doing more than receiving his intrusion. Vaguely she was aware of her own hands resting on the leather seat at either side of her, immobilized not by any physical force, but by the simple fact that Red hadn’t given her permission to move them.

  This was a new depth of arousal, a new kind of sex. Like nothing before. Not even her experience in the gym had come close to it. After the spanking, she’d rushed into the shower and quickly brought herself off. But she knew that if that hadn’t been possible, her body would have settled down anyway.

  Not so now.

  If I don’t come soon, I’ll die, I swear it.

  Both the punishment to her breast and the sweet, sweet kisses were fatal.

  But all of a sudden, both sensations ended. Red released her nipple and sat back, studying her face.

  “You are beautiful,” he said solemnly. “I’ve never seen a woman quite so lovely in submission.”

  Vicki gaped at him, stunned by both his words and the physical messages still rampaging through her body, bouncing from her mind to her breast to her empty sex.

  “You’re more lovely than O could ever have been. Because you’re a real woman, Vicki, not some skinny, stylized Parisienne.”

  Do I speak? Am I allowed to?

  She opened her mouth, but Red forestalled her with his fingertips over her lips. Pressing lightly, he forced her to part them, then pushed two fingers into her mouth. On a pure reflex, Vicki began to suckle, unsure why, but aroused even more by action.

  Red laughed softly, his own mouth widening in a gleeful smile. Vicki’s eyes widened, too, when he briefly fondled his own crotch.

  “Come on,” he said, sliding his fingertips from between her lips and also relinquishing his bulging erection. With infinite tenderness, he tucked some stray strands of hair behind her ears. “You’re too covered up, my sweet. You�
�re not accessible. Remember how Rene and Sir Stephen preferred O to dress?”

  Vicki nodded. She thought about the clothes she’d packed for this trip, and suddenly her heart gave a great knock inside her chest.

  It’s impossible. How could I have known this was going to happen? That he’d be here?

  Rather than a selection of trousers and jeans for casual wear, she’d packed mainly skirts, and tops and blouses that buttoned at the front. Suspender belts and stockings rather than tights.

  Her hands flew to the buttons of her little cotton cardigan, but Red gently dashed them away and unfastened it himself. He tut-tutted at the sight of camisole and bra, and to her astonishment reached into his inner jacket pocket and drew out a narrow mother-of-pearl-encased switchblade. A second later, with terrifying speed and perfect precision, he slashed the straps of both, slit them up the front, then drew both garments away.

  Leaving Vicki sitting there in just her cotton cardigan, her breasts naked. Her nipples were rudely erect, the left one still cherry red from being pinched.

  Red tossed her ruined clothing to one side and plucked at her skirt. “Lift your bottom from the seat. Remove your panties, then slide your skirt from beneath you and sit down directly on the leather.”

  Just like O.

  Her pussy was hot and sticky against the cool silky hide of the car seat. The sensation of her bare skin against the leather was so sensual that Vicki gasped out loud, crumpling her panties in her fingers as she almost came from the intensity of it.

  Red’s eyes gleamed in fiery approval, even though his bearded face was impassive again. He lounged back at his end of the seat, relaxed as he reached for his champagne flute.

  “Play with your breasts a little more. Not pinching this time, just stroking. I’d like to see you move a little, and to hear you moan. But you mustn’t allow yourself to come just yet.”

  Pleasuring herself was far more embarrassing than the pain had been and Vicki blushed furiously. She’d never allowed a man to see her masturbate before. It was far too private.

  “Vicki…”