Moments later, she was tied down to the table, her arms to either side of her head, her legs spread-eagled and tied to the front of the table.
"What were you saying about not doing this to you again?” Infuriatingly, he chuckled.
Nicole could do nothing but watch his lips curl in a self-satisfied smile. She shouldn't have come to his version of lunch. She should have guessed he wouldn't leave her alone sexually. The table was cold against her back through the thin silk of her blouse.
She turned her head towards the door, wondering if the maitre d’ would take it into his head to enter the room. The smell of her arousal and Michael's aftershave was strong in the air. She moaned. Last night was repeating itself all over again.
Michael's blue eyes lit up. “Do you know what I want to do with you?” he asked, bending forward to lightly kiss her eyelids and her cheeks. “I want to rip your clothes off. How would that feel, having your legs wide apart, your labia soaked with shaving cream and all the hair gone? You would feel so smooth. And wet."
Not that she wasn't already. Her tugging on her bonds did little to loosen them. She wanted one thing very badly. And that was his cock in her pussy, thrusting and driving her to climax. She thought she had forgotten what he felt like, but she hadn't. His rod was large and filled her perfectly. How could she forget something like that?
"Your nipples are so tight against your blouse.” He twirled one lightly, making her pussy tingle with awareness.
Carefully, as if the buttons were made of diamonds, he unbuttoned her blouse to her waist before he stretched the material apart just enough to reveal the scanty lace barely covering her breasts. He inched the bra over the top of her breasts, causing the round globes to sit forward and beg for his attention. Her aureolas were huge orbs of dusky rose flesh. Once again he bent over her and sucked her nipple, kneading her breast with the edge of his knuckles.
She found herself wanting to kiss him, to make him cry out with aroused need.
When he lifted his head to examine her, he asked, “Would you like that? To have your pussy shaved?"
She shook her head again, worried someone would open the door and see her in this position.
"What if I get Peter and a few of the restaurant staff to watch while I shave your pussy?"
This time she motioned desperately, one of those times when her mind berated her for thinking the act would be sexy and would stimulate her more than she already was. Long ago, she had fantasised about several men making love to her at the same time, but the fantasy had died when Michael had gone to prison.
"I thought perhaps they could make love to you but I came to the conclusion that I'm far too jealous, the proverbial territorial male, to let them do more than cop a feel."
Her juices trickled into the crotch of her panties.
"Hell, I might be too jealous for that too.” His laugh was like that of brittle leaves touching the sidewalk on a windy day. She caught a glimpse of his straining erection against the fly of his pants. When would he strip and make love to her?
What had he felt behind bars? Had he been alone, continually watched, restricted from doing the things he loved? He had liked to take long walks, dream up new business ideas to invest in, and make love to her.
Abruptly, like a man possessed, he ripped her skirt off, leaving her in black high-cut panties. “You don't need clothes, sweetheart. I want you naked every minute of the day. You'll be my sex slave. I would order you to sit in a chair and spread your legs wide so I could see your wet clit. Then I would order you to play with yourself, and watch you spread your labia apart to get at your pearl and get yourself off. But there's a little catch."
She didn't doubt there would be.
"I would always stop you from coming, and leave you wanting me."
Nicole wondered how much more of this torture she could take. Her breasts ached with an unaccustomed fullness and her pussy quivered with desire. Soon, she would climax, and demonstrate just how much she wanted him, that her denials were nothing but useless words. If he found that damp spot between her legs, he would make her rise to release. But his fingers never came close to her vagina. She squirmed but there was no way to free her ankles or her wrists. She would have taken care of her arousal herself without much urging from him.
She gave a little sigh. He could do whatever he wished to her body. The worst part was that she wanted him too. She turned her head to the right and saw herself reflected in the mirror. Her cheeks were tinted with a pink blush and her nipples were taut and straining towards the ceiling. Her eyes sparkled.
Michael turned her attention back to him. He smiled. “I'll really enjoy shaving you,” he said quietly. “Then I'll take some photos of you."
She didn't know what to think. She didn't want any more photos of herself, lying around, waiting for the day of discovery when she least expected it, as had happened with Brad last night. Nicole remembered how Michael didn't like her shaving her pussy and wondered if his tastes had changed in prison. He couldn't shave her since he didn't have the tools of seduction he required. All the tool he needed was zipped away behind black material.
He slipped out of his jacket, each movement carelessly assured. “Each photo would be different. One from above, one from beside you, one from between your legs to show your moist cunt."
She didn't have to spend much time imagining what those photos would be like. Highly erotic and possibly detrimental to the career she had worked so hard for.
He loosened his tie, leaving it dangling from his collar. If she hadn't known better, she would have said he had just ended a long day at the office. “I bought two presents for you this morning. I'm sure they'll meet with your approval."
Feeling deliciously vulnerable, Nicole watched him unwrap a small object. He chuckled. “I feel like a doctor right now."
He tore away her panties and rolled her slightly to one side. What doctor ripped away underwear? She squeaked as he pressed something into her anus, but, rather than feeling invaded, she felt wetter and hotter. She didn't know much about those kinds of things but she guessed he had inserted a butt plug in her ass.
When he rolled her back to her former position, he held a V-shaped strap. A chastity belt? Their eyes met, hers serious, his amused. He snugged the belt around her waist, down between her legs and up around her ass. She remembered the little game she had played pulling the petals from the daisy. This time, her mind repeated the words, “I want him. I want him not."
Her eyes widened as he held up the largest, flesh-coloured dildo she had ever seen. For goodness sake, it was twice as large as he was! No way was he going to be able to fit that thing into her. She was far too small! Carefully, he levelled the dildo to the entrance of her vagina and circled the plastic around her wet clit a few times.
With that, he leant forward over her mound and brushed his fingers through the tight, curly hairs and down to her moist labia before spreading the wet folds apart. She moaned. He was a master craftsman when it came to her body. He knew exactly what drove her to the brink of climax.
"Relax, sweetheart. You'll enjoy it more."
She found herself doing as she was told. His eyelids lowered over his eyes but his breathing rasped in the stillness of the room. Her nipples stood rigid, yearning peaks of desire.
He stretched wider the folds dripping with her honey. Then she felt the cold rubber press against her opening and gently the chilly dildo enlarged her. He pushed, slowly and carefully. The barely audible squish of her juices resonated in the mirrored room as he thrust the dildo further in, then in and out.
Nicole moaned again as Michael circled a finger pad around her clit, massaging and stroking. Fire burned within her and she closed her eyes in eager anticipation of the coming orgasm. She wanted to hide her impatience for the thrusts and wished he would move his finger on her clit faster. It wouldn't be long now before an orgasm shook her body. The dildo thrust in and out. Her back arched the tiniest bit.
He stopped, the dildo still
within her.
Her eyes flashed open. He couldn't leave her writhing like this at the edge of climax.
A devilish smirk appeared on his face.
The bastard! He was going to leave her hanging, unfulfilled. To add insult to emotional injury, he casually reinserted the dildo and placed a strap across it so she couldn't dislodge or move it to mimic his thrusting motion.
She whimpered, desperate for him to finish what he had started. He knew exactly where to stop and leave her frustrated and aroused beyond anything she had known.
He rubbed his hands together as if congratulating himself on a job well done. “I'm going to get something to eat.” Turning his back, he hefted his jacket over his shoulders and strode out, leaving the door wide open.
She fumed. How could he just walk away, leaving her in the throes of an unfinished orgasm? Miserably, she surveyed her surroundings. She was spread-eagled on a dining table in a restaurant. The door was wide open, which meant anyone could walk by and see her tied up. If she turned her head, she could see herself in her naked glory in the mirror.
As she struggled ineffectually, the dildo moved a fraction of an inch within her, fanning the flame of desire. She knew now what it was like to be spitting mad and unable to help herself achieve climax. When Michael returned and untied her, she would give him a piece of her mind the likes of which he had never heard before.
* * * *
Nicole heard muffled footsteps on the carpet in the hallway and forced herself to muster the courage to look at the doorway, hoping it wasn't one of the restaurant's personnel.
Michael appeared, and, framed by the door, paused. He looked impossibly at ease. Rage festered within her as he surveyed her slowly from head to toe. An effortless smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “My, my, but you look good enough to eat."
To her relief, he walked in and closed the door.
Her blood's temperature soared above the boiling point. She was tired of being trussed up, angered and resenting the fact he had scorned her and she hadn't been able to achieve orgasm. What more could he do to insult her?
He laughed softly. “I don't feel like letting you go. You're such a gorgeous sight to my deprived eyes."
Nicole harrumphed. He didn't love her—probably never had. He wanted to exact vengeance in his own inimitable style and make a mockery of the love they had once shared. It was as if the scales had peeled away from her eyes with that grim realisation. He had never loved her. All he had wanted was sex with a nineteen-year-old girl from the wrong side of the tracks. Heartache and crushing defeat pressed their heavy weight on her.
When had she started wanting the man back in her life, holding her, loving her, playing the little games they had become accustomed to? Her little fling with bondage had led to her relationship with Michael. She knew that. A relationship between a compelling and wealthy man and a girl who had little to commend her to the world at large could never work. Why had she thought it could?
Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring Michael's actions. He slid the dildo from her sheath, and the plug from her butt, as he untied her with delicate and sensuous fingers. He ungagged her. She was determined she wouldn't shed tears in front of him. He would never know how he had wounded her by coming back into her life.
When she was free, he held out a gentlemanly hand to help her up from the table. Casting a disdainful gaze on his large hand, she swung her feet over the dining table, stood to her full height and looked him in the face.
"I won't ever tolerate you doing that to me again,” she whispered. Then she slapped his face so hard the sound rang throughout the room.
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Chapter Nine
* * * *
"So what in the hell do you want?” Bryan asked as Colin flashed by him towards Michael's office.
Iceman didn't even bother acknowledging him. He threw the door to Michael's office open. “What the hell do you think you're trying to pull?"
Bryan waited, pretending to examine papers on the secretary's desk, knowing Colin would turn on him when he realised his brother wasn't in.
"Where the hell is he?"
"Who do you mean?” Bryan asked, still looking at the papers.
"My brother, you fool!"
Abruptly, Colin stomped over and Bryan suddenly found his neck in a vice grip. His feet dangled half a foot from the ground. Incongruously, he wondered what Libby would do if she saw Colin playing his bad power boy routine. Would she beat Colin over the head with her tiny handbag? “Put me down or I'll break your teeth."
"Yeah, right. You're like a sissy grandma on crutches and you're going to best me?"
"Don't put me down and give yourself a reason to find out.” Bryan had to think of something fast. Ratting on anyone, especially defenceless women like Nicole, wasn't his style.
"I'll put you down when I'm good and ready.” Colin's grey eyes almost bulged from their sockets.
"Then you're looking for more trouble than you've already got."
"What are you blabbing about?"
Bryan decided to play his cards. His windpipe was beginning to hurt. “I just bet you don't like the idea of Nicole and Michael screwing each other. I know how to stop it."
Something in Colin's normally dead eyes sparked to life. “How'd you know that?"
"Not hard to figure out. Isn't Nicole already screwing Brad?"
Colin set him on his feet, but didn't bother brushing Bryan off, not that he had expected it but it would have been nice. The transition from dangling meat to standing man wasn't gentle but that didn't concern him too much. At least Iceman wasn't holding him like a rag doll and threatening to dismember him.
"She's a two-timing bitch. All she wants my brother for is his money,” Colin said, his voice gruffer than usual.
"What makes you think that?"
"She's tried to get to him before. It didn't work. And it won't work now either if I've got anything to say about it."
"You won't let it, right?"
Colin grunted in the affirmative. He adjusted his black leather jacket and lifted the sleeve of his baby blue dress shirt to check his gold Rolex.
"Why did you call her a bitch?"
"She wants to set her teeth into Michael again, get him to marry her so she doesn't have to spend the rest of her snivelling life with a loser like Brad."
He made Nicole sound like a black widow. “Again,” Bryan prompted for information.
"Yeah. She squealed on him, that their fun wasn't consensual and had him slammed in the clapper for a few years."
Bryan couldn't see why this spat between Nicole and Michael was his own problem. He knew very little about Nicole and would have sworn the attraction was more on Michael's side than it was on Nicole's.
"She not only put him behind bars but she squeezed money out of him too. Why do you think she owns a fancy house up in the west end?"
"I didn't know that.” Bryan wondered at the animosity coming through, which wasn't unusual in Colin's attitude but this time there was more behind the anger in his eyes.
"You've got no reason to. She does everything on the sly."
Is that why Brad was so torched last night? Because he and Colin were disputing the merits of Nicole flirting with his brother again?
Colin's eyes turned hard. “Michael thinks he's in love with her, that she's worth something but she's got nothing. She's simply a piece of ass from the wrong side of town."
Bryan saw how Colin's pride shone through, the Carmichael macho attitude. The Carmichaels had been a force to reckon with back in Ashcroft but not now. Bryan shook himself. Michael was someone to reckon with in town now, powerful and compassionate without the ruthlessness that made self-made men tick. What the wrong side of town had to do with attraction was beyond Bryan though. Curious as to the answer he would receive, he asked, “So what are you going to do about it?"
"I've got my ways,” Colin replied slyly.
Libby made her way out of the restroom, strode pas
t Colin without looking in his direction and seated herself behind her desk. She appeared composed and unflustered, quite a difference from the woman who had spoken about him earlier.
Colin slapped Bryan on the shoulder, almost bowling him over. “She needs to learn a lesson and I know just the person to teach her,” he said ominously. He shoved the double glass doors open and disappeared into the parking lot.
"Man, I'm always glad to see him go,” Libby breathed, setting her purse on the floor under the desk. “He gives me the willies but real bad."
"I can't put my finger on why he bugs the shit out of me either but you're right. There seems to be some history between the brothers."
"Brothers always have a history,” Libby commented. “But this goes far beyond what I would normally expect."
Bryan nodded. “I don't know if it's worth finding out what it is but keep your ears open. Never know what will crawl out of the hole."
"I doubt I'll find anything. I just don't want to see Michael hurt. Okay?"
"I understand,” Bryan said, already on his way back to work. “I don't want to see him hurt any more than you do.” Michael was a good man. And family. And blood was thicker than water.
* * * *
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Ten
* * * *
As the working day wound down, Bryan found himself thinking more about Michael and Nicole. Colin's revelation had shocked him. A fine man like Michael couldn't be a criminal. He wanted to know if Colin was telling the truth about why Michael had gone to prison. Or even if he had gone to prison. His service to the community and his employees’ favourable reaction to him belied Colin's statement. But it did make Bryan wonder why Colin and Michael had changed their last name from Carmichael to Karlisi.
Bryan was their cousin from their mother's side. Even now, thirty years later, he could remember as a four-year-old the tremendous energy his aunt, Laura Carmichael, had as she poured iced tea into tall glasses filled with cubes of ice, and set shaped cakes on the picnic table. The Carmichaels were a large family with cousins, nieces and nephews all over the world. When he had been young and his parents had been alive, Bryan had participated in the yearly family gathering. He knew that somewhere in his stash of boxes filled with memorabilia from his youthful years he might find photographs of Michael's mother and father. When exactly had the split occurred between the Carmichaels and the Karlisis? He couldn't be sure, since he had been with his parents at the Canadian Embassy in England for many years. For his part, once he couldn't actually meet with the Carmichaels, he had lost interest in them, although occasionally he remembered a pretty young woman with hair the colour of warm whisky and irrepressible vitality.
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