by Qwillia Rain
Thinking of Bryce’s reason for her last surprise, Mattie shed her clothes, working hard to avoid caressing her body. Pleasure from punishment was becoming hard to control, she admitted as she conjured the memories of a special luncheon at La Paloma. The elegant Italian restaurant was one of her favorites, which was the primary reason Bryce had selected it for her introduction to risk-taking public displays.
Having had an audience when Bryce had received and given oral pleasure at the Club, Mattie had believed that the sensation of risking getting caught in public doing the same wasn’t much different. She was wrong.
Stripped of her clothes, Mattie settled into the swirling water, her hair held on top of her head with two lacquered hair sticks, and recalled every detail of that day just a week earlier.
She’d been nervous, seated between Bryce and Richard in the restaurant, diners at the various tables around and in front of them. After they’d given their orders to the waiter, Bryce had settled his clasped hands on the table and spoken, his voice firm but never reaching beyond the island of their booth. “When in my presence, if I give permission for another to touch you, you need to accept it.”
Knowing it was the master speaking, Mattie nodded. “I understand.”
“Did you leave your panties off before we drove to work as I instructed?”
Again, she nodded. “Yes.”
“Very good.” Bryce’s gaze had shifted from her face to his friend. He nodded and then returned his eyes to hers as Richard shifted closer on the curved bench seat of the booth. “Richard is going to adjust your skirt to better accommodate your instruction. Lift up, so he can settle it around your waist.”
The slide of Richard’s hand along her thigh had been a warm and somewhat alien feeling. The calluses were not as pronounced as those on Bryce’s palms and fingers. His touch was tentative, not as firm as Bryce’s, and didn’t heat her core the way her husband’s did. Still, she did as she was told, lifting her bottom to allow the silk skirt to be pulled up. The chill of the leather seat had her stifling a gasp.
Bathed in the warm water, the scent of Bryce filling her nostrils with every wisp of steam floating from the surface of the bubbling pool, Mattie ached to touch herself as Bryce and Richard had during that long, sensual lunch. The memory of the stroke of their fingers up her thighs to the bare mound of her sex had her panting. Remembering how each man took his turn exploring the swollen lips, the wet passage within, and the throbbing protrusion of her clit, had Mattie squeezing her thighs together and arching upward in the rolling water.
Only the knowledge that breaking the rule about self-stimulation could result in even more denied pleasure kept her from attempting to find relief from her growing need. Unbidden, the plea for permission to come whispered from her lips into the empty bathroom even as it had in the restaurant when Bryce had coaxed her to the edge and then slid his hand aside to allow Richard access to her tender flesh.
Though she hadn’t expected Bryce to allow her to climax then, she’d been surprised when he’d taken her clenched fist from the seat between them and tugged her from the booth. Sobbing at the delay, she’d barely been aware of him making sure her skirt had fallen back into place, covering her bare skin, before he led her toward the restrooms. Ignoring any chance that the room might already be occupied, Bryce had followed her into the ladies’ room, snapped the lock closed on the door, and lifted her onto the counter in one smooth movement. The rasp of his zipper was barely audible over her sobs as he spread her thighs and ordered, “Wait.”
Her fingers had clawed at his suit coat, head thrown back as she swallowed her cries with the firm thrust of his cock inside her. The tight clutch of her body had him cursing as he forced every inch of his length home. “Goddamn it, baby, take it. Fucking take it all,” he growled, his hand rising to force her head down to watch their bodies connect. Her flesh swallowed his as the last bit sank in, and the fingers of his free hand spread her labia, exposing her clit to the scratch of his pubic curls and the pressure of his pelvis.
Then as now, she hovered, desperate for climax, knowing he could deny her permission. Deny her release as a means of showing her the strength she had in controlling her body’s needs. And then, just as now, she both reveled in and despaired over the power he held over her, that she gave to him. Willingly.
Mattie moaned as the heat stimulated her flesh and another drift of steam increased the scent of her husband around her. Her hands continued to clutch at the sides of the tub, desperate to caress her breasts and belly before they slipped between her thighs to test the moist folds hidden there.
From the doorway, Bryce was reluctant to remain silent. Knowing how she loved to take her time in the bath, he’d come inside hoping to hurry her, but now he was hard-pressed not to join her. With her eyes squeezed shut and her body quivering with arousal, he wondered what thoughts could possibly be running through her mind. A wry grin lifted his lips as he gave in to temptation and crossed the cool tile floor on bare feet.
Standing over the tub, he watched her fingers clutching the rim of porcelain, the flex of her thighs as she held them tightly shut, and listened to the tiny, breathless moans issuing from her lips. Each sent a shaft of heat arrowing directly to his groin. Fully dressed, he eased into the tub and whispered, “Lean forward.”
Mattie’s eyes flew open, mortification mixed with relief in her gaze as Bryce stood over her. She shot upright in the water and tried to scramble out, but his firm grip drew her back. Sliding down behind her, Bryce cradled her against his body as he braced his feet against the textured bottom and slid his right hand over hers, guiding it between her thighs.
His husky whisper drifted through the dimly lit room. “You have my permission to touch yourself.” He could feel her heart fluttering furiously and her body tense in his arms. “Relax, darlin’,” he crooned, smoothing his left hand down her left shoulder to the fingers tightly clenched against the rim of the tub, he gentled her slowly, back to the aroused state she’d been in before he’d made his presence known.
“Open up a little more,” he whispered, lifting his right leg against hers until her foot rested on the rim of the bath. “Good, good. Now.” He eased their fingers between the moist petals. When she tried to pull away, he stopped her. “No, let me show you,” he urged. Parting the delicate flesh, he kept his hand cupped over hers as he guided a finger from each of their hands into the tight channel within.
“Feel how wet you are?” His hoarse voice whispered over her ear. “How tight?” She protested softly when he slipped his touch from her, but it was quickly stifled as he nudged a second of her fingers into her sheath. “Your hands are so much smaller than mine, darlin’.”
With his right hand guiding hers, he taught her the slow, sensual rhythm that would bring her to climax. When her head fell back, cradled between his neck and shoulder, and the fingers of her left hand twined with his, Bryce grinned with satisfaction. He watched as her breasts swelled, her nipples drew to stiff little points, rising above the water like tiny islands. Against his growing arousal, Mattie’s hips pulsed in time to the stroking of her fingers.
Hoarse little cries came on gasps of air as Mattie climbed higher and higher. His hand cupped over hers, Bryce drew their tangled fingers to rest on her right breast; he led her fingertips around the taut, berry-sized bead. “You have very sensitive breasts, Lawrence,” he told her as he smoothed her hand around first one breast, then the other, squeezing the full globes with his hand over hers before sliding his touch away when she began caressing herself without his guidance.
Slowly, Bryce withdrew his touch until he was once again just an observer, watching over his wife’s shoulder as she lay against him in the bubbling water. He watched, his body taut with desire, as her body grew flushed, her lips parted, her thighs quivered, and she whispered a soft plea.
“Please.”
“Please what, baby?” He knew what she wanted, needed, but waited for her to ask.
“May I come? Pl
ease, Bryce.”
He only hesitated a moment. “Yes, baby, you may.”
Arching against him, she cried out as her orgasm swept over her. It took everything he had to keep his hands still on the rim of the tub as Mattie’s bottom rocked over the swollen length of his arousal, locked within his sodden jeans. Silent, he waited and watched as she gradually returned to Earth, her hands gently stroking her damp flesh beneath its clear liquid cover.
“Better?” His voice was rough in the dimly lit room.
Refusing to feel embarrassed, Mattie nodded. “Mmmm, much.” Letting impulse guide her, she braced her hands on the sides of the tub and lifted away from her husband. Turning to face him, she grinned in amusement at the picture he made, arms draped casually on the porcelain rim, wet chambray plastered to his muscular chest, and soaked denim outlining his straining arousal beneath the waves.
When his shoulders tensed, preparing to raise himself from the bath, Mattie leaned forward. “Wait,” she whispered, her fingers sliding easily over his buttons, releasing them one by one until the shirt parted, revealing his darkly tanned chest, sparsely covered with pale blond curls, and lean muscles. Meeting his fiery green gaze, she simply said, “May I?”
Bryce didn’t have to ask what she meant. She was sure he could read it in her dark chocolate eyes, and the heat in his gaze assured her his arousal had kicked up another notch. Rising, he rested his flanks on his heels, knees spread for balance, facing her. Her hands cupped his, following as he eased open the five buttons holding his jeans closed, then shifted aside the silk covering his swollen manhood. The dual sensations of rolling water and moist, warm air against his penis, along with the feel of her soft hands over his, brought a groan slipping past his lips. Mattie’s gentle smile drew a self-deprecating laugh from his chest. “Think it’s funny, my little witch?”
“Oh yes.” She smiled, her eyes leaving his to watch as his hands caressed the length of his stalk from base to tip, modeling for her what brought him the most pleasure. Beneath her fingers, she could feel just how firmly he gripped and how fast or slow his strokes were. Much as he’d guided her in learning how to bring herself to satisfaction, Bryce showed her again just what was necessary to bring about his climax.
“It’s almost like being inside you,” Bryce whispered against her hair as she bent over him.
“How?” Mattie asked, her attention focused on the slide of his fingers over his flesh.
Drawing in a deep breath, he laughed, a sexy, dark rumble that made her more aware of the way his scent clung to her. “You are so wet.” She watched his eyes close and wondered if he was remembering, like her, the hours he’d spent making love with her on their wedding night and every day since. “Tight and hot. I almost came that first time as soon as I got inside you.”
He felt his control slip just a little as he recalled what her body felt like wrapped around his. “Like a silky glove, Mattie; you were wrapped so close I couldn’t tell where you left off and I began.” His motions grew more rapid as the tingle began in his spine.
Watching her slip her thumb from his to investigate a single drop of milky fluid, Bryce gloried in the pleasure his wife seemed to gain from playing with his secretion. Sliding the pad of her thumb over the thick, bulbous tip of his shaft, he barely gave Mattie time to marvel at the proof of his slipping control when she found herself pulled tight against his body. His hands held her hips as he buried his face against her neck, groaning as his body rocked against hers. The thick length trapped between them, the need to come overwhelmed his control until he felt his body pulsing and wet warmth gushed over their bellies.
From the hall, the grandfather clock chimed six deep, sonorous notes, startling them from their stunned embrace. Bryce was the first to pull away. Grabbing at a pile of towels nearby, he found and dipped a washcloth beneath the water and gently bathed Mattie’s breasts and belly, removing the evidence of his passion from her trembling body. Raising his eyes to hers, he wasn’t sure what he would have said before she forestalled him by pulling away and stepping from the tub.
“You said you had a surprise?” Reaching beneath the water, she pulled the plug from the drain and wrapped herself in a towel.
Realizing she was trying to avoid his touch, Bryce wondered at the sudden hesitation in his wife. Resolved to follow through on his plans for the evening, he nodded. “Yes. Why don’t I get a quick shower while you dress; then we can head out.”
“What should I wear? Formal? Casual?”
“Whatever you’d like.” He grinned. “You won’t have it on for long. I promise.”
The laugh Mattie gave seemed almost forced, Bryce decided as he watched her leave the bathroom. Feeling every one of his forty years plus a decade or two more, Bryce rose from the rapidly emptying bath and stripped his wet clothes off. Striding to the shower, he jerked the cold-water faucet on full and stepped beneath the pulsing jets. Gritting his teeth to keep from crying out, he soaped up and rinsed off in record time.
Chapter Fifteen
“Bryce, I’m…I’m not sure.” Mattie hesitated on the threshold of the bathroom.
“What is our safe word?”
“Pirate.”
“Are you afraid of Richard?” Bryce held his hand out to her and drew her close. When they’d arrived at the penthouse to find Richard already waiting, Mattie had been fine; but when he’d led her into the bathroom to change out of her clothes, she’d begun to balk.
“No, but…”
“Are you afraid of me?” When he moved behind her, she could feel him comb his fingers through her hair, easing the sections free of the braid she’d confined it in before they’d left home.
“Never.”
Finished with her hair, he returned to stand in front of her. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
Leaning forward, his hands sliding beneath her robe to squeeze her hip and cup her breast, Bryce settled his lips against hers. “I swear, baby,” he whispered into her mouth, nipping at her bottom lip, then licking away the sting, “if you get scared, you just use our safe word and he’s gone.”
Still nervous, Mattie nodded and kissed him back. The ugly whispers trickling through her thoughts sounded so much like the accusations her father used to fling at her mother, it took Mattie several deep breaths to force them into silence. Following him out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, she didn’t hesitate in her steps, nor did she resist him when he loosened her robe and smoothed it off her shoulders. Inside, she was glad this hurdle was being done at the apartment and not the Folly. Here the bed was merely a bed, a place she and Bryce had slept and made love, but the Folly was home. It was sacred, a place reserved only for her and Bryce. No one else.
“You know, Bryce,” Richard’s voice called out from the hallway, “we don’t have to—” The words seemed lodged in his throat as stood frozen in the doorway.
Mattie waited, feeling the heat climb from her breasts to her cheeks as Bryce carried her robe to the chaise, leaving her naked in the center of the room. The sun was just sinking below the city’s sprawling towers of concrete and glass, casting a reddish glow through the room. In her own defense, she was a bit taken aback at the sight of Richard’s bare chest and feet and the faded jeans riding low on his hips.
“Holy Christ, Mattie.” The tone of his voice was near reverent as he moved toward her.
Glancing over her shoulder, Mattie sought out Bryce, needing to determine by his expression what her next step should be. Having taken a seat in one of the chairs scattered around the room but close to the bed, he watched Richard approach her. His stoic expression told her nothing as he split his attention between the sketch pad in his lap and her and Richard.
Standing directly before her, Richard seemed to gain control of himself. “I have your permission?” His inquiry was directed at Bryce, but his eyes never left her face.
Mattie could practically feel his gaze caress her skin. Memories of the stroke of his fingers against her clit surfaced, mak
ing her breathing hitch. Flashes of that strange lunch meeting had been bubbling to the surface of her mind over the last week, not just this evening. Every time Bryce settled a plug in place, then made love to her, she couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to have two cocks filling her at one time. Not that she could think of anything else with the heated whispers Bryce constantly teased her with.
It wasn’t like Richard wasn’t handsome. Hell, she’d had her share of fantasies about the dark-haired man, but she’d grown to know and recognize the difference between desire and love. Richard’s touch, his look, the way he treated her, and the way she reacted to his touch at the restaurant all made her know there was little chance she wouldn’t be able to maintain control over her body and senses. It wouldn’t be like the out-of-control feelings Bryce stirred in her.
Bryce must have given his permission with a silent nod because Mattie didn’t hear him say anything before Richard’s lips covered hers. His broad hands cupped her cheeks, holding her still as his mouth coaxed hers open. The taste of chocolate and mint filled her senses, and the stroke of his fingers as they drifted from her cheeks to her breasts stirred her senses, but nothing like Bryce’s touch.
Just like your mother, a little slut. The voice snarled from the darkness she’d trapped it in. Her body went stiff before she shoved the thought away and concentrated on relaxing, absorbing the sensations Richard’s touch evoked.
A part of her mind seemed isolated, cut off from the sensations washing softly through her body. It analyzed the lack of recoil and revulsion. Both feelings had always been present with the men she’d ever dated before Bryce, but not Bryce himself. Although the heat and heart-slamming arousal just the thought of Bryce could induce wasn’t present, a bit of Mattie wondered at why Richard’s touch didn’t affect her the way other men’s had.
