by Alisha Rai
The sound of rustling came to her ears. Something scraped across the floor. Footsteps rang out against the concrete, echoing the pounding of her heart, closer and closer until she knew he stood behind her.
Seconds ticked by, the urge to squirm becoming close to unbearable the longer he withheld his touch. The silence wore on her nerves until she finally had to shift her weight to keep from going insane from want. Immediately, something smacked her bottom, stinging her flesh harder than his hand had done. She jumped, and he grabbed her hips. “Hold still. If you move again, you’ll be seeing to my pleasure before I let you come. If I let you come. Got it?”
“Yes.”
She managed to hold still while he whacked her twice more with what felt like a paddle. It had some sort of rubberized side which kept the blows from actually hurting her.
Then he stopped, inserted his foot between hers and kicked her stance wider. Resistance didn’t cross her mind, since she knew she’d be rewarded. Sure enough, he pressed two huge fingers inside of her. “Mmm. You’re nice and wet. Listen, you can even hear it.” He fucked her with his fingers a few times, and her ears grew hot at the squelching sound his digits made as he pressed into her tight, wet passage.
He withdrew his fingers. Ana wanted to whimper, but recalled his warning just in time to stifle her plea. The next thing she felt was his breath puffing along the folds of her pussy. His fingers bit into her thighs as he pressed her legs wider to accommodate his head.
When he’d eaten her out before, it had been a gentle, loving thing, and he’d always started out with slow, languorous kisses to her clit with shy forays into her passage. There was nothing shy or languorous about this, and while it may have been loving, there was nothing gentle about it either. His tongue thrust deep inside of her, and he fucked her with it while rubbing against her clit with the pad of his thumb.
When she squirmed—how could she not?—he withdrew his mouth from her and lazily spanked her with the paddle. The heat of the blows only made the blood rush faster to her pussy, which made it even harder to keep still.
She tried though, she really tried, even though the paddling was not so much a punishment as much as it was a way to stroke her own desire higher. She needed to come, and the paddle wouldn’t allow that. Or so she thought until she felt something round and wooden resting against her clit.
He circled it once, then twice, while fucking her with his tongue, and she came in a high keening sound, her hips going wild in his restraining grip. He didn’t bother to stop her, simply allowed her to finish it out, sucking the climax out of her while giving her a base to rage against. When she came back to reality, her cheek was resting against the surface of the table, pants coming from her mouth, her body lax and boneless. If it wasn’t for his hands on her hips and the fact that her upper body was bent over the table, she wouldn’t have been able to remain standing.
Something hit the table next to her head, but she didn’t so much as stir until his hands squeezed her ass cheeks and opened them up. The air wafted over her and she whimpered. He kept her held open and brought the tip of his cock to rest against her small asshole.
His hot body covered her back as he leaned in close to whisper in her ear. His movement made the tip of his cock teasingly rim the small opening of her hole, making her gasp. “I want to fuck you here.”
They’d never tried anal sex. Suddenly the idea seemed wildly appealing, though she knew it would hurt. She didn’t even care, because if it was sex and Taylor was involved, she knew it would also be explosive.
He bit her ear. “I don’t think Eli keeps any lube in here, unfortunately. But if I wanted to, you’d let me, wouldn’t you?” He rubbed against her.
“Yes.”
“You’d let me do anything I wanted to you, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She licked her lips. The answer was obvious. “Because I’m yours.”
“Damn right.”
He stood and thrust inside her pussy so hard her legs lifted off the floor. She strained against her bonds, instinctively seeking to grab on to something, but there was no hope of retreat. He hammered into her, abrading her nipples against the cold metal. And then the metal was replaced by his hands as he pulled her up off the table until she stood. With one hand across her breasts, the other on her shoulder to keep her steady, he fucked upwards once, twice…her pussy convulsed around him as she came. He fucked her through another climax, and then pushed her back down on the table to bury himself deep and find his own pleasure.
As she lay there, thoroughly exhausted, only one thought ran through her brain.
How had they gone for two years as a couple and not tried something like this before?
Once Taylor climaxed, he lay over her for a good while, breathing in great gulps of air. Then she’d felt his fingers, suddenly clumsy, attacking the knots in the bra on her wrists.
She was too tired to move, so she didn’t mind the fact that he gently massaged the blood flow back into her tired arms, or that he kept her prone on the table as he pressed small, almost pleading kisses on her back.
When he finally allowed her to stand, she moved to take her mask off, but he shushed her into staying motionless.
A warm glow spread through her as she waited, still blindfolded, and allowed him to pull her panties and jeans up her legs and then push the tattered remains of her shirts back on her. She heard him dressing as well, but she waited docilely for him to remove the ski mask from her face.
This submissive role should have raised all of her sassy feminist hackles. Instead, it made her feel treasured and loved to be taken care of. And while she’d been bent over that table, the lack of control had only enhanced her sexual experience.
You love this. How had she lived her whole life without realizing that she had these submissive leanings? It was stupefying.
When he did remove the blindfold, she blinked. Except for the red glow coming from the space heaters, the shed was fully dark.
However, that didn’t keep her from seeing the fact that her husband would not meet her eyes, his face hard and closed off. Her chest tightened, the same way it always did when she knew she was on the brink of receiving some really bad news. A layer of melancholy sank into her bones, at odds with the euphoria she’d been flying on since they’d entered this shed. He picked up his coat, turned her around. She put her arms in it, and he pulled it up her shoulders. “What will you wear?” she asked, tears clogging her throat.
“I don’t need anything. It’s a quick walk to the house.”
She turned around to find him picking up her discarded pink snowsuit and ski mask. In his pocket, the remnants of her bra peeked out.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Taylor…”
“Shh. It’s starting to snow again. Let’s get back to the house.”
He held the door open. On top of the pile of her clothes she caught a flash of something red. She peered closer and realized it was a Ping-Pong paddle.
“Was that…?” Mortification stole her words.
He glanced down and his lips twitched. “I think we’ve bought it now.”
“Oh.”
She preceded him outdoors. The snow had picked up, covering the footsteps they’d left not that long ago in the yard. The mountain wind stung her cheeks and she shivered, burrowing deeper into the huge sheepskin coat her husband had given her. Surely he must be freezing in his flannel shirt.
Though it was always a pain to keep up with his long legs, she flat-out jogged so she could get him inside faster. At the back door, he opened it for her, waited for her to get inside and then he stopped her. “Here, go put this inside.” He handed her the pile of clothes in his hands. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
“I need to run out and grab our snowshoes.”
He loped off without waiting for a response. She called out, “Taylor, you forgot your coat.”
> He must have heard her because he raised his hand in a dismissive gesture and sped up. Before she could blink he was already into the trees.
Panicking a little, she dumped her armful inside the door and began stripping off his coat, intending to grab her own and chase after him. What was he thinking? It was freezing, and he knew very well that the wind was picking up. He could get frostbite or maybe even—
“He’ll be fine.”
She turned back to the kitchen, her coat half off, to find Eli sitting at the table, a steaming cup of something in front of him and a book in his hands. “What?”
“I said, stop worrying, peanut. He’ll be just fine.”
“He ran out there without a coat after our snowshoes.”
Eli made a face. “Well, damn, I thought he was going for a run. He shouldn’t have bothered. We can always buy more.”
“A run?”
“Sure.”
“Who’d go for a run in the snow? Without a coat?”
Eli shrugged. “Sometimes I like to go. When Taylor and I were growing up, we’d go running in the snow all the time when we came up here in the winter. It’s bracing, and the snow can be fun to roll around in.” He winked at Ana. “Not that I need to tell you that. I may have glanced out the window and witnessed a bit of running and rolling around today.”
She raised her chin, refusing to be embarrassed. “Nonetheless, I was dressed appropriately.”
Eli glanced out the window. “Well, you can fuss over him all you like in just a minute. Look at that, he’s already back.”
“He’s…what?”
She looked outside the door, and sure enough, there he was, loping across the open yard to the shed with both sets of their snowshoes held in his hands. “How did he get back so fast?” It had taken her far longer to run from where they’d started their chasing game to the house. Granted, she’d zigged and zagged and had to worry about covering her tracks, but it should have taken him more time than this to come back here.
“Hmmm? Hey, can you close the door? Hate to let the heat out.”
“Oh. Oh sure, sorry.” She closed it and stood, staring out the window.
“Did you meet a bear?”
“What?” She glanced over her shoulder.
Eli gestured to her clothes. “Your shirt. It’s all ripped up.”
Having forgotten about it ’til he’d pointed it out, she looked down at her clothes. Her button-down flannel, similar to Taylor’s own, lay open, the buttons destroyed. The white shirt beneath it had also been torn at the neckline in Taylor’s haste, so her modest cleavage was revealed. She flushed and tried to cover it up, wishing she hadn’t taken off Taylor’s coat. “You know very well I did not, Eli Reynolds.”
He held his hands up, the picture of innocence. “It was an honest question. Especially since it looks like you and Taylor were playing Ping-Pong in the shed. I don’t know how your shirt would get ripped doing that.” He nodded to the pile of clothes on the floor where she’d spilled it, the paddle laying very conspicuously right on top.
Fire raced through her cheeks and he laughed. “I’m sorry, hon. I love the way you blush. I swear I’ll stop. You two can keep that paddle, by the way, as long as you enjoyed it.”
“I did.” The words popped out before she could even think about them, and she had to resist the urge to clamp her hands over her mouth.
Eli’s laugh was hearty and spontaneous. “Well damn, girl. I don’t think Taylor realizes what a find he’s made in you just yet.”
Taylor’s arrival cut off any response she might have made. As soon as he walked in, his eagle eyes swept over her red face, Eli’s smile, and he grunted. “What did you say to my wife, asshole?”
“Well, gosh, Taylor, we were just chatting about how you were the bee’s knees. Have a good run?”
He glanced at her and then back at Eli. Some sort of undercurrent seemed to flow between them. “It was fine.”
“You shouldn’t have gone out like that,” she fretted and brushed the snow off his shoulders.
“I was quick.”
“I know, but you know how even a little exposure is bad for you. How did you do it so fast anyway?”
“Yeah, tell us, Tay. We’re dying to know.”
Taylor glared at his friend, but when he turned back to her, his expression softened. “It wasn’t that far out, love.” He stroked a finger down her cheek.
Though she appreciated any physical contact from him, this made her frown. By all rights, his hands should have been ice cold, but his flesh was almost hot. Leftover arousal or adrenaline from their encounter perhaps?
Uncaring of their captive audience, Ana placed her hand over his, halting his stroking motion. “We should talk.”
“Yeah.”
“Can we…?”
“I need to shower,” he said. “And I’m tired, and a little hungry. Later.”
Well, hell. Frustration built inside her as she watched her husband’s back. It took her only a second to realize she wasn’t the only one watching her husband walk away. She glanced at Eli’s face. His emotions were practically a mirror of hers—frustration, irritation, anger.
He glanced at her, and everything was wiped away. He gave her a tight grin and buried his nose in his book, seemingly careless.
Ana’s eyes narrowed. Eli and Taylor’s past was bound together like the finest built rope. It only made sense that learning about one’s secrets would reveal the other’s. As her sainted late mother used to say, there was more than one way to crack a nut.
Chapter Seven
Her mother had never met these two nuts.
That was Ana’s final conclusion as dinner wound to a close a few hours later. Taylor had retreated to monosyllabic responses or grunts. Eli was still chatty, but every probing question or pointed sally was expertly deflected or evasively maneuvered around.
If those two exchange one more meaningful glance, I’m going to shiv them both with my butter knife. Dammit, her husband was only supposed to exchange meaningful glances with her. It was so obvious they were trying to hide something from her, they might as well take out a billboard in neon lights.
Since Eli and Taylor had cooked, she was cleaning up the kitchen as they talked quietly at the dining-room table. Eli had insisted they eat there instead of at the more casual kitchen table because, as he put it, “I think the furniture gets lonely sometimes.”
She snorted. At least the nut part was right.
Ana gripped the edge of the sink and tried to blink back tears. Lord, she just wanted her husband to be himself, and she wanted the ability to give free rein to her own newly discovered desires. Was that too much to ask?
God, give me a sign that I’m not heading down the wrong path.
Nothing. Damn it.
Alas, sometimes divine intervention didn’t pan out.
She wiped her hands on the dishtowel and turned away from the sink, ready to go back into the dining room and regroup. She took three steps before she recalled the brandy she had wanted to bring in for an after-dinner drink.
Taylor had stashed the liquor they’d bought in the pantry. As she grabbed the brandy, her fingers brushed the bottle directly behind it.
The tequila. Heck, she might as well walk through the front door topless.
She pushed the brandy aside and pulled out the golden bottle, her thumb rubbing against the cold glass. Though she knew it was her imagination, it felt like the heat of the liquid touched her through the barrier of the bottle, sparking a glimmer of a plan in her head.
Huh. Talk about mysterious ways. She grabbed three shot glasses from the cupboard. But I’ll take it.
“There’s no news on the tree blocking the pass, right?” she asked Eli as she placed the tequila on the table between them and lined the shot glasses in front of it.
He broke off his low-toned conversation with Taylor. “Nope. Not yet.”
“Where’s the brandy?” Taylor asked, surveying the alcohol.
“Oh, I thought
we could have a little more fun than that. Eli said we could play a game after dinner.”
Wariness flashed in her husband’s eyes. “I think he was talking about a board game, sweetheart.”
“Nonsense, honey. You despise board games.”
“So we’re going to do shots?”
She twisted off the cap of the tequila. “Essentially, yes.”
“What do you—?”
“Tay, you’re an idiot. Any time a woman proposes a game involving alcohol, you’re supposed to say, no problem, sugarlips and drink.” Eli rubbed his hands together. “What are we doing?”
I wish I knew. She tried to project confidence, though she felt like a mass of jelly inside. “It’s a simple game. You probably played it in college, like I did.” She poured the tequila into the three glasses, distributed them, and sat down, folding one leg underneath her. Her pose was casual but her heart was jumping up and down like a frog on amphetamines. This was it, the moment of truth. “We go around the circle, starting a sentence with, ‘Never have I ever…’ and finish it with whatever. Like… ‘Never have I ever eaten goat.’ Then everyone who has eaten goat has to drink.”
“Man, I love Never Have I Ever. We had a lot of fun with this game back in the day, didn’t we, Tay?” Eli’s tone turned reminiscing. “Lots of fun.”
Oh sweet. She wanted them both in the mood to take a walk down memory lane. If she had to get them drunk to do it, so be it.
“You played drinking games in college?” Taylor’s tone was censorious and automatically rubbed her the wrong way.
“No, honey. I substituted sugar water for the alcohol. Of course I played drinking games in college. Did you think I went to a seminary?”
Eli busied himself with turning his shot glass around in his hands while Taylor subsided under her glare. “Of course not.”
“Hmph. Well, ready to play?”
“I don’t think…”
“Come on, dude. Let’s give the lady what she wants.” Eli paused deliberately. “Or you can go do whatever and the two of us will play.”
She didn’t know how he managed it, but Taylor seemed to grow bigger before her very eyes. He visibly bristled. “No.”
