Forfeit

by Stoneley, Zara

  Cat watched and still she couldn’t move. She could imagine their tongues entwined, Brent teasing her like he’d teased Cat. He broke away and even from where she stood she could see the girl’s eyes had darkened. Her hands were travelling down the front of the crisp shirt now, stroking, then slowly undoing it button by button; long, red-nailed fingers tweaking his nipples until they stood alert.

  ‘I’ve missed this, Brent.’ Her voice was heavy, husky, as though she had done this enough times to know how good it was going to be. Brent was smiling, one hand reaching up between the long, sleek thighs, and the girl gasped.

  They seemed oblivious to Cat as she watched the girl squirm, pressing her hips forward as she peeled his top off, as he cradled one of her full, heavy breasts, his head dipping so that his tongue could flick at her dark buds. Then he wrapped his free hand in her hair again roughly, pulling her head back. Stretching her out so the pert breast reached up to him, so he could see, so Cat could see.

  But all Cat saw was Sadie’s hand, a hand that had shifted down, undoing his flies, drawing his engorged cock out with long, experienced fingers. Fingers that were playing a tune on him, making him bigger and harder, caressing the velvet tip. A low moan escaped Cat.

  She didn’t want to feel like this; she wanted to ignore the dampness in her knickers, ignore the throbbing ache. She didn’t want it to be Sadie’s nipples he was sucking, Sadie’s lips crushed beneath his, Sadie’s hand gripping his erection. And she didn’t want him to know that she couldn’t bear it.

  But she couldn’t stand it any longer. The heat that had started in her face was rushing through her whole body, the tingle on her skin rushing down, causing a flood of moisture between her thighs. It was too late to march out. She didn’t want to be a threesome, but she didn’t want to be one either. One. Watching. All alone.

  If she had to be here, if she had to go along with his requests, then she couldn’t just stand here feeling more desperate by the minute. And she did have to be here; she couldn’t walk away from them. Her body was telling her to stay, telling her she couldn’t walk however much she knew she should.

  But she wasn’t going to just strip and jump in either. There were limits. This was sex, not surrender. She stepped closer; she couldn’t help herself. The instant she did, he knew; he was waiting for her as if he’d been counting the seconds. His hand reached out, cradling her breast, rolling one erect nipple roughly between finger and thumb until it was so large, so hard it was painful. Sadie had reached up with her spare hand, the other still holding his cock, and she took charge of the other nipple, her touch more delicate, but insistent. Cat gasped and closed her eyes; it was a new kind of torture, and the two different sensations were twisting her insides, making her whole body sway.

  ‘Take your top off.’ The order broke into her stupor, soft but insistent, and she was powerless to resist. She didn’t want to say no, didn’t want this to stop. The second her top was off he was pulling her closer to them, his hand firm on her bum as Sadie’s lips tightened around her breast. She wanted to object, pull away, she didn’t do girl stuff, but his hand had closed more firmly on her buttock and suddenly it didn’t matter.

  This was different to his sucking yesterday; this tongue was long, delicate, flicking, encircling, and teasing her in a way she had never experienced before. Then his hand had moved round, and together he and Sadie were undoing her jeans; two hands tugging them down and she didn’t know who was doing what. She didn’t care any longer as Sadie continued teasing with her lips, easing the swollen breast in and out of her soft mouth. Cat was only aware of a desperate need as a firm hand started to slowly push her thighs apart, as a finger stroked her damp, swollen pussy.

  ‘You are so wet, darling, so wet. Is that for me or for her, Cat? Who do you want?’

  She moaned. She could feel the scrape of long nails on her bum, skating over her cheek and circling her lower back, massaging just above the base of her spine, sending a shiver of anticipation through her as they threatened to slip lower. One long, slim finger stroked the base of her spine. She gasped. She didn’t know who she wanted, what she wanted, and she didn’t care.

  She screamed as two fingers were rammed inside her and then he was rocking them, bending and flexing them as he pushed in and out, further each time, his thumb firm against her clit. The touch of Sadie’s fingers just above, sliding over her bumhole, was sending her skittering nearer the release she so desperately needed. Her legs were trembling and she pressed harder against him to stop herself giving way. His mouth was on hers, his tongue insistent, forcing its way into her soft warmth, then she realised her breast had been abandoned, and Sadie’s soft mouth was travelling down her stomach, circling her navel, nipping softly along her flesh. A tremor shook her body as the soft, warm mouth traced its damp path along her skin.

  ‘Do you want her mouth there, Cat? Or do you want my hard cock deep inside you?’ She let out a moan, a deep moan that came from somewhere inside her. She had slipped her thighs wider apart, willing his fingers in deeper. Then it was his mouth on her nipple, biting so hard she cried out, and she could feel soft skin against hers as Sadie sank to her knees, her tongue burning a trail further down her taut stomach, sending a ripple of anticipation down through her whole body. She was shaking now so much between the two of them, her body in spasms of delight and need, barely aware as he eased her down onto the rug, his fingers still strumming her insides as she tightened around him. His mouth was hard on hers again, pinning her down, forcing her to relinquish herself to the pleasure, and she could feel another mouth on her mound, lips pulling at the soft curls, teasing. A long tongue, curling down, finding her clit as firm, delicate fingers parted her lips. The tongue flicked once, twice, and then she was screaming into his mouth as the lips firmly took the swollen nub and sucked, and his fingers carried on playing inside her as she came with an orgasm that shook her whole body, sending her hips convulsing beneath the tongue, around the hand.

  Then the hand was gone, the mouth was gone, and he was above her, his knees between her thighs, forcing his big, hard cock inside her. Driving deeper inside her than he had before, until she could feel his balls against her damp pussy. She slid her hands down the strong, hard back and looked into his eyes, suddenly feeling exposed as his raw desire bit into her. She closed her eyes, wanting only the pleasure, not the pain, not wanting to bare her soul to him.

  ‘Do you want me, Cat?’ She could see the tension of control in every sinew as he paused. She ground her hips up, willing him to lose control, willing him to carry on. ‘Cat?’ She couldn’t bear it any longer; she needed the release, needed the explosion that was so close. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘Look at me. Say you want me.’ Every bit of her ached, throbbed, wanted.

  ‘I want you, Brent, I want you, please.’ Then he was driving into her again, twisting his hips so he could grind deeper and she could feel the ripples of pleasure build as her muscles tightened and released of their own accord, out of her control, and then they were rolling right from the core of her, the spasms growing as he swelled even further inside her, filling every part of her, and the moan was his the sound of lust and need setting off a whole new wave of emotion, the sensation of him spurting deep inside her sending a final shudder through their joined bodies.

  When she opened her eyes they were lying side by side on the rug, alone. No sign that it had ever been any other way. His arm felt strangely comforting, wrapped around her. Strong, possessive. She could hear the steady beat of his heart as she nestled in the crook of his shoulder.

  ‘You’ve never let another woman touch you before, have you?’ His voice was soft, his breath against her hair. She shook her head slightly. ‘Rules are sometimes there for breaking, Cat, even yours. Sometimes crossing the boundaries shows us who we really are.’

  ‘I don’t want to go with women. I already knew that.’ Her voice was husky, heavy with the aftermath of sex.

  The low laugh wrapped
around her. ‘I know, darling. But you have to raise the stakes sometimes, scare yourself a bit, then letting go isn’t quite as hard.’

  ‘I don’t want to let go.’ She went to pull away but his arm was firm around her, as though he knew what she was thinking. She was fine just the way she was. She didn’t need to discover herself, didn’t need to let anyone else discover her either.

  ‘I think you’re too scared to. What are you scared of, Cat?’

  She shuffled closer against him. She didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to question things. She wanted just to be there. With him. She closed her eyes tighter. He was right. She was scared. Scared of how she felt right now.

  Chapter Four

  ‘Sleep well?’

  She didn’t know whether it was the chocolate voice or the smell of coffee that woke her. But she knew exactly what was causing the rush of warmth that flooded through her body. She took a deep breath and stretched her aching body. And she knew exactly who was responsible for the heavy, languid state she was in. Every muscle in her body was humming a gentle tune.

  ‘Erm …’ She gathered her thoughts. ‘Very well, actually.’ The last thing she could remember was him carrying her up the stairs, laying her gently down and then making love slowly and thoroughly with hands, tongue, lips before slipping inside her, silent as he held her hands loosely above her head, the sapphire blue of his eyes searching her soul. She’d gone from drowsy and sated to comatose, it seemed. In one easy step.

  ‘Coffee?’ He took a step closer to the bed and the soft aroma reached out and enveloped her. The smell of normality; and she realised that this suddenly did feel like normal, like she should be here doing this, with him. And the realisation hit her that she didn’t want to question it, doubt it. ‘I thought we’d have a drive out for lunch when you feel like getting up.’

  ‘Fine.’ She smiled and watched the quirk of his eyebrow with satisfaction, the reaction creeping out from under his defensiveness. He hadn’t expected that response. To hell with it. She liked sex with Brent, she liked playing dirty, so she was going to do it and damn well enjoy it. No more trying to play the nice girl. No more trying to turn the tables. Not yet, anyway. She wanted this, she needed this, and she was going to have it, even if it threatened to turn her inside out.

  She’d played the dutiful girlfriend, only to have the person she really was thrown back in her face by a fiancée she realised she’d never really known. Or maybe she had, and maybe she’d hoped there was really something else deep down in him, waiting to be discovered. Someone else. Still waters ran deep, but the shallows were just a haven for sharp rocks and broken dreams, it seemed. Maybe it was safer to swim with the sharks. Or one particular shark.

  She’d played the dutiful, if celibate wife for nearly a year as well. All the time having to deny herself the pleasure of Brent’s hands on her body, the glorious warmth of his touch, and what good had it done her? If she’d never opened that Pandora’s Box it would have been different, but she’d known exactly what she had been denying herself. And she’d spent too many nights fantasising about the feel of his skin against hers. But now, though, it was his fantasies that called the tune, and she wanted to dance to them. Not in some distanced “use me and abuse me” type of way. For real.

  He might not be about for evers; he definitely wasn’t about being safe and careful. No, Brent was dangerous; dangerous and incredibly sexy. And right now maybe that was what she needed. She’d had a life overshadowed by secrets, and now he was asking, demanding that she hide nothing. That she show every part of herself. That she be honest about what she was and what she needed. That she risk breaking her heart and showing a side of herself even she didn’t want to admit to. She’d seen what happened when people’s secret lives were exposed, knew that forgive and forget was a treacherous lie.

  She might have to play to his forfeits, but not to his rules. He wouldn’t hurt her, at least not physically in a way she didn’t want. She trusted him that far. Though she wasn’t quite sure why.

  She fought the smile that was curling her lips. Gave an experimental wriggle.

  ‘Now stop that.’ His voice was mock stern, but she had seen the slight narrowing of his eyes. She tilted her head to one side on the pillow. He looked as good as the coffee tasted. She stretched her arms above her head, aware of the tilt of her breasts, the outline of her nipples under the satin.

  ‘You’re a witch.’

  ‘A witch at your beck and call, o master.’ Christ, was that really her, sounding like the slut she’d been told she was? But she couldn’t help it: the feel of the soft satin brushing against her skin; the sight of his strong forearms; his muscled chest that the T-shirt fitted like a second skin. He was smiling, but his lips had thinned and there was a new tension in his body.

  ‘I’ll be showing you properly who the master is later.’ He had taken a step away from the bed, away from her, and for a second she felt a stab of uncertainty. She couldn’t even play the slut properly. Then he grinned, pure wickedness. ‘Patience, darling, I promise it’ll be worth the wait.’ He blew her a kiss and was gone.

  Disappointment mingled in her gut with excitement. He wanted her, she was sure, but on his terms, in his time. Playing the master.

  She had a sudden desire to take control, to push him beyond his boundaries, to make him want her on her terms. Just once. And it hurt that he’d been able to say no so easily, to walk away from her without a thought. And she wasn’t sure why.

  Brent shut the bedroom door firmly with one hand and adjusted his cock with the other. It had taken all his self-control not to strip off the silly bedsheet and shag her senseless right there and then. And he probably should have. Except it hadn’t been in his slow and surely plan of attack. Fuck. Slow and plan weren’t words that were usually in his vocabulary when it came to women and shagging. Attack was.

  He was losing it; he must be mad to be playing by rules, rules he’d invented, when he could be deep inside her right now. Making her scream and throw her head back like she had last night, losing herself in the pleasure of the moment. He gritted his teeth. Being inside Cat was like nothing he’d had before and when that soft voice turned dirty and begged him for more his self-control became a lost cause. He’d run from her once and he still wasn’t quite sure why, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to give her an excuse to run from him.

  Brent groaned inwardly, watching her as she sashayed her way over to the car. From the flush to her cheeks she’d sorted herself out, seeing as he’d refused. The way she’d stretched under those bedsheets in that languorous, feline way had pushed him far enough and now she was set on stretching his willpower ever further. He could almost smell the sexuality oozing from her and suddenly he knew the rules were the right ones, however much they tormented him. One quick and dirty shag would have satisfied, not sated.

  ‘Hey!’ She yelled out indignantly and skipped a step as he gave her arse a slap. He grinned; rules might be rules but resisting peachy temptation like that was going one step too far. But boy, would he love to do that when she was over his knee! She’d kick and holler, he knew for sure. She was vocal that way not a grit your teeth and keep it in kind of girl then she’d be wriggling and begging. Jesus, he had to stop this right now or he’d have her astride him in the car before they’d even left the house. He slammed the car door shut and started the engine. Whoever said patience was a virtue definitely hadn’t been faced with a temptation like Cat.

  Cat eyed him warily as he pulled over at the side of the road. He couldn’t be planning to rip her knickers off here, could he? Not right at the side of a main road? It might be marked on the maps as a viewpoint, but if they added to the attractions there’d probably be a car or two going off the cliff. He grinned at her as though reading her mind.

  ‘Fancy it?’

  ‘You’re mad.’

  He chuckled and the sound ripped through her, setting up a stampede of butterflies in her stomach. His strong fingers curled round the back of her neck, li
fting her hair, the calloused fingertips sending a shiver right down to her pussy. Then his mouth was on hers, warm, insistent lips that she couldn’t help but part hers to, and instantly her tongue was in his mouth, wanting to taste him with an urgency that overtook everything else. He tasted good; mint and sex. A taste and smell that she was sure would always turn her on, even long after he’d gone his own way.

  He chuckled into her mouth, taking control, his tongue exploring her in a way he’d not done before, brushing over her teeth, playing with her tongue, filling her mouth with a taste and dampness that made her whole body throb with need. She reached out, instinctively cupping her hand over his cock, wanting to take him in her mouth right here and now.

  He tore his mouth from hers, and there was a rawness on his face that stopped her in her tracks for a moment.

  ‘You are so bloody gorgeous, Cat, why on earth did that bastard ever let you go?’

  Brent had spoken without thinking, but the second the words were out he felt her body tense as she pulled back mentally, the shutters coming down. Shit. He cringed inwardly. Way to go, Brent, nothing like being subtle. Where the fuck had that come from? How could he be so stupid? But for some mad moment he’d thought he needed to know how any man could push her away.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Even as he spoke and she looked at him with those big eyes he knew he’d overstepped a mark. And then, after a moment’s hesitation, the look of anguish seemed to melt from her features, replaced by a small, rueful smile. She moved back an inch closer. An inch that was a mile.

  ‘He said I was a whore and he wanted a wife.’

  ‘Did you want to be a wife?’ There was a rock in the bottom of his stomach; he couldn’t see her being anyone else’s wife.

  ‘Well, I didn’t want to be a whore, let’s put it that way.’ She had a strange, endearing quirk to her mouth, as though she wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. ‘We were engaged; wedding bells ringing in the distance, y’know, the full works. Then he discovered I wasn’t the type of woman he wanted to sit in church on a Sunday with his mum.’