What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 9)

by Kristine Cayne

“What if I’m not in the mood to be your sex slave?”

  “You will submit to me, even when you might not want to. The reward will be all the better. But, as your Dom, it’s my responsibility to know when your resistance is part of the game, and when it’s real. If you aren’t into something, it won’t be good for either of us.”

  “So I have to trust that you’ll take my feelings and my needs into consideration.”

  “Trust is the key.” He stroked her arm, moving up to her shoulders, and back down to her belly. His hand cupped her pussy through the cotton of her sundress, her warmth heating his palm. He bunched up the dress, so he could feel her, skin on skin. She was so soft, so wet.

  “I’m working on that,” she said, undulating against him.

  He slid his finger between her pussy lips, coating them with her own juices. “There are two safewords.”

  “Safewords?” She tried to turn, but he held her firmly against him with his free arm. If he didn’t crave more than a quick fuck, he’d bend her over the railing and slam his cock into her tight pussy, right here. Right fucking now.

  He had to clear his throat, and his mind, before he could speak intelligibly. “The first safeword is ‘yellow.’ It’s like a caution sign. If I’m pushing you too close to the limit of your fear or pain tolerance, use it. I’ll back off.”

  “And the second one?”

  Continuing to caress her with his fingers, he said, “Red. It means we’ve hit a hard limit that maybe you didn’t know about. That’s okay. I need to trust you’ll tell me if I go too far.” He removed his hand from her, knowing it would heighten the impact of what he was about to say. “That word stops everything. Don’t use it unless you really mean it.”

  She gripped the railing and leaned against him. “D-do you have any hard limits? Besides blood, I mean.”

  Sliding his hand back under her dress, he thrust his pulsing cock against her ass, and knew he’d have to have it as soon as she was fully prepared.

  “After lunch, we’ll talk about hard and soft limits. And must-haves.”

  “Must-haves. I like the sound of that.” She rolled her hips and moaned when he circled her clit, then trailed his finger down to her entrance and plunged it deep into her wet heat. She was ready for her surprise.

  Pulling his hands away from her, he moved a step back. Not too far, just enough for her to feel the loss along her back. He took his surprise from his pocket and when she turned to face him, a question in her eyes, he dangled the G-string from his forefinger. When he’d spotted the miracle of white pearl-sized metal beads, he’d pounced on it.

  Rickie scowled. “What is it?”

  “A G-string.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Put it on, Mrs. Caldwell,” he said, his tone firm. Unyielding.

  “Here?”

  “Now.” Rickie swiped the G-string from his hand and fiddled with it, trying to figure out how it worked. “Need help?” he asked. It was a real challenge to keep from grinning.

  “No!” she snapped. Fire sparked in her eyes as she stepped into the loops and pulled up the G-string. “Why beads?”

  Taking her arm, he led her in the direction of the Mustang. “You’ll see.”

  He was able to pinpoint the exact moment when she did see. Her step faltered and she gripped his arm, nails digging into his flesh. “Oh!” she gasped, her cheeks flushing a beautiful shade of pink. The same pink as her nipples.

  “You like?”

  Licking her lips, she turned to him. The mix of Madonna and Magdalene in the smile she offered him turned his knees to jelly and his cock to stone.

  Delayed gratification was going to kill him. His lovely wife was going to kill him.

  Kill him with pleasure.

  Chapter Five

  Naughty, sinfully delicious sensations coursed through Erica’s body. With each step, with each glide of the beaded G-string, a fresh rush of tingles fanned her arousal. The knowing grin on Jamie’s handsome face made her want to jump in his arms and beg him to take her, to plunge deep inside her, to ease the ache building between her thighs.

  But that wasn’t how this game was played. He would draw this out until she broke. And she would, but not until he was ready to break too.

  They neared the sleek convertible, and ever the gentleman, Jamie opened the passenger door for her. It would almost be a relief not to feel the to-and-fro of the beads against her sensitized flesh for a while.

  As she sank into the deep seat, the extent of her error became clear. The row of beads snuck in, deep and tight against her. Her grip on Jamie’s hand tightened as an orgasm tore through her, startling her with its suddenness. She arched her back, the motion bringing on another long glide, propelling her into a second climax before the first even ebbed. The world, the car, Jamie’s face—everything blurred as her body soared.

  When she finally stopped quivering, she slumped against the seat back and opened her lids, blinking to bring her surroundings into focus. Jamie’s smile and the fire sparkling in his eyes almost stopped her heart. “This is going to be a great day,” he said, closing her door.

  Erica tried to regain her breath while Jamie rounded the hood and sat behind the wheel. “Where”—she swallowed to moisten her dry throat—“where are we going?”

  He turned on the car and opened the roof. “The clerk at the resort recommended this little seafood restaurant in Kaaawa. Sound good?”

  “Wonderful.” She shifted to adjust the seatbelt and winced when a wayward bead dug into her butt. “Am I going to keep this on?”

  “This?”

  She sighed. “The G-string. Do I have to keep it on?”

  “You’ll keep it on until I tell you to take it off.” His words were clipped, like he was commanding his team.

  A thought nailed her to the seat. What if she came in the restaurant? In front of other people? She’d want to die. “Jamie, I—”

  He laid his hand on her thigh and squeezed it lightly. “I said I’d never do anything to embarrass you.”

  “It’s not like I can control this.” She motioned awkwardly toward her middle. Discussing sex had never been comfortable for her.

  “This? You’ll have to be more specific, Mrs. Caldwell.”

  Jamie turned the car onto the two-lane highway and accelerated. The purring of the engine made the metal beads vibrate. She felt as though hundreds of fingers were massaging her at once. “Oh, God,” she said, moaning.

  “I’m glad you think so highly of me. But I’m not God.”

  Damn him. He was enjoying her struggle. She gripped the edge of the seat, and ground her teeth together. “I’m going to come again.” Her voice rose to a shrill pitch.

  “You will not.” He let a moment pass. “Not until I give you permission. As your Dom, I say when and where you can come.”

  Was he out of his mind? No one could control an orgasm. “And how do you propose I stop it?”

  “Count sheep.” She closed her eyes as a tornado built deep inside her. Jamie sucked in a harsh breath and grabbed her wrist. “Self-pleasuring is not permitted. Unless I order it.”

  What was he talking about? She wasn’t—The thought died as she looked down. Her dress was hiked up to her waist and her right hand was between her legs, rolling the beads against her swollen folds. Hissing, she tore her hand away and shoved her dress back in place. He was turning her into a sex addict!

  Jamie’s loud laugh startled her. She jerked her head up and seeing the humor dancing in his eyes, her cheeks flamed. “Did I say that out loud?” Dropping her face into her hands, she groaned. “Oh, God. I did.”

  With a sideways glance, Jamie wound his hand in her hair and tugged. “Sit back.”

  The guttural scrape of his voice put her on instant alert. Desire etched his features, sharpened his jaw and cheekbones. The tingles between her legs turned to sizzles. Who would break first? Since she’d already climaxed twice, logic would dictate that it would be him. But everything about Jamie defied logic. The unex
pectedness of her previous orgasms had astounded her, and left her primed and ready for more.

  What had he said earlier? Count sheep? It was certainly worth a try. Closing her eyes, she pictured fluffy little lambs jumping over a fence. One sheep. Two sheep.

  Jamie tugged on her hair again. “Open your eyes.”

  Not fair. Keeping her head down, she resisted. How could she count sheep if she couldn’t see them? When he tugged harder, she snapped her eyes open. His clenched jaw jumped and she had the sudden urge to run her tongue along the edge of it. The pulsing between her legs flared and she tore her gaze away from him.

  “Lift up your dress.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Here?”

  “Yes. Now.”

  Happy that she’d worn her favorite no-wrinkle dress, she raised the hem, folding it neatly at her waist. When the hem passed her mound, exposing her, he said, “That’s it. Show me your pretty pussy.”

  Pussy. The word ripped through her memories, bringing that first night back to her in high-definition. Every sound, every scent, every touch. It all came back in a rush. Simply remembering the way he’d spread her legs and studied her most private place triggered a fresh wave of desire.

  He pushed on the back of her head. “See how wet you are? How your juices gleam in the sun? Describe it to me.”

  God, that was gross. Why did he want her to do that? Keeping her head down, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Oh, right. He was still driving. She swallowed, stalling. “You lied.”

  Frowning, he shot her a questioning look. “I’ve been more honest with you in the last day than ever before in our marriage.”

  “You said you’d never make me do anything embarrassing.”

  “No. I said I’d never embarrass you or make you do anything embarrassing in public. But that’s beside the point. Describing yourself shouldn’t be any more embarrassing than describing a picture or a painting. Now do it.”

  Her husband had lost his mind. Letting out a long breath, she tilted her hips so she could have a better view of the area in question. “Um… well… it’s pink and shiny.”

  “Sounds like you’re describing a newborn pig. Pretend I’ve never seen a pussy before. Tell me everything you see.”

  She snorted. “It’s not at all nice to look at. I may just turn you off women forever.”

  Reaching between her legs, he fondled her with his fingers, dipping one inside her. Stunned, she barely had time to register what he’d done before it was over. He brought his hand to his mouth, and sucked his fingers. His action, so carnal, so hot, stole her breath.

  “Your pussy is beautiful and so are you. Every inch of you makes me crazy. Now try again, and see yourself through my eyes.”

  Did he really believe that? Only truth showed on his face. After years of hearing her mother’s boyfriends calling both of them filthy cunts, it was hard for her to block that out, to think of that part of herself as anything but dirty. Growing up, she’d often wished she’d had a penis, long and wide. Men were proud of their bodies in a way few women were of theirs. For Jamie, for the sake of their marriage, she’d try.

  Placing a hand on her stomach, she edged her fingers lower until they touched the trimmed hair at the apex of her thighs. She was a little obsessive about keeping it neat. “Okay. The hair… it’s short and a little curly.”

  After a moment, he prompted her. “Color?”

  “Blonde. So pale, I can see my skin through it.”

  “What color is your skin?”

  Carefully, she pushed aside the row of beads. Good thing the hair was short or Jamie’s little surprise could have been a painful one. “It’s light pink here.”

  “And lower?”

  She trailed her finger down to her outer folds, still swollen from her earlier passion. Touching herself like this in front of Jamie felt… wrong. She took another breath before answering his question. “It’s darker. Closer to fuchsia.”

  “Open yourself.”

  Was he trying to prove something with all this? Come on, Erica. Be honest. Yes. There was something exciting and sexy about exposing herself in broad daylight. Did Jamie know that? She guessed that he did.

  Forcing herself to follow his orders, she used both hands to push back the swollen lips and reveal the smaller folds. Folds that glistened with moisture. Jamie sucked in a breath, drawing her attention to his hands gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles white against the black leather. “Tell me what you see.”

  This little game was affecting him as much as her. Stimulated by the visual proof of his arousal, desire spun tight in her belly. She returned her gaze to her mound and the new moisture that coated it. “I see a flower. A flower touched by the morning dew.”

  The car swerved sharply off the road, and Jamie pulled it to a stop on the shoulder. She smothered her smile, but a curious warming sensation filled her chest. He unbuckled his seatbelt and twisted toward her, his body boxing her in. “Repeat what you said.”

  “All of it?”

  “Just the last part,” he said with an impatient shake of his head.

  “It… uh… it looks like a flower touched by the morning dew.”

  “Good. You see what I see now.”

  She bit her lip and nodded, her heart swelling. He’d done this for her. “Thank you,” she whispered, ducking her head.

  He hooked a finger under her chin. “Never be ashamed of your body or how you feel.” He pressed his lips against hers. “Accept it, and it will reward you.”

  For a moment, much too short, she lost herself in blue eyes that shone with sincerity and something else. Was it love? Whatever it was, she was grateful to him for what he’d done. What he was doing. Already she felt their connection growing stronger. “I will,” she said, and meant it.

  “Now, let’s make it look like a flower after the rain.” He pulled on the G-string, rolling the beads back and forth. Her belly clenched hungrily as the smooth balls slipped between her wet folds, the pressure on her nub perfect. Then as though he’d completed his demonstration, he indicated for her to take over.

  Replacing his hand with hers, she continued the motion. As her desire mounted, she increased the rhythm—faster, harder. Her ragged breathing turning to gasps, she thrust her hips forward in an attempt to increase the pressure against the beads. Blood pounded in her ears. She was so close. Just a few more—

  He stilled her hand. “Stop.”

  “But I need—”

  “I know what you need.” With slow controlled movements, so at odds with the tempest wreaking havoc on her own body, he put the car in gear and got back on the highway. Her mind reeled and all she could focus on was reaching her climax. All it would take were a few touches. His eyes were on the street. He wouldn’t see if she extended her finger a little…

  The rumble in his chest squashed that idea. He smiled. “Patience, Mrs. Caldwell.”

  Dropping her head against the seatback, she huffed out a breath. Patience had never been one of her virtues.

  After a few minutes of silence, he said, “Slip the straps off your shoulders.”

  “But my dress will fall down.” She was wearing a simple sheath dress. The entire thing was held up by narrow spaghetti straps.

  He gestured with his hand. “We’re alone.”

  The resort had been milling with people, but Jamie had managed to find the only deserted stretch of road on the island of Oahu. Go figure. “Okay. But if someone sees me, you’re in big trouble, mister.”

  Her fingers shaking, she slid the straps off and let the top of her sundress fall to her waist. Naked except for the fabric across her stomach, she shivered in the warm sun.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, concern furrowing his brow. “I can put the roof up.”

  “No.” Could she tell him the real reason she’d shivered? That being alone with him, naked when he was fully dressed, made her feel sexier, more vulnerable, than anything else in her life had. That it left her more aroused than she’d ever been?
>
  He groaned and she followed the direction of his eyes to her pussy, her juices making it glisten. “Touch your breasts,” he growled, tearing his gaze away and back to the road.

  Bringing her hands to her chest, she cupped each breast, kneading them the way Jamie did.

  “That’s it. Now pinch your nipples.”

  With her thumbs and index fingers, she captured each peak and squeezed. A moan escaped her lips as a spark of pain ignited the sensitive tips.

  “Do it again. Pull at the same time,” he ordered.

  The tingles were so intense, so exhilarating that she hurried to comply. Pinching again, she tugged on her nipples, stretching her breasts, enjoying the pull on her skin.

  “Tell me how it feels.”

  “Like I’m being suspended by the tips of my breasts.”

  “We might have to try that someday.”

  “Not on your life,” she said, tensing up.

  “Hard limit. Got it.”

  Hearing the humor in his voice, she relaxed and continued to massage her breasts, her gaze fixed on his face. Wishing his hands would replace hers.

  “Pinch. Harder than before. And pull farther. Do both until you’re on the edge of pain.”

  She breathed deeply. There was no reason to worry. She was in control. These were her hands on her breasts. If it hurt too much, she’d stop. Squeezing her thumbs and index fingers together until pain enveloped the elongated peaks, she pulled. Pulled until the stretching of her skin and breast tissue made her yelp.

  “Easy now. Let up a little. Then do it again.”

  Was he crazy? As she prepared to follow his command, she knew she was the one who was crazy. After several rounds of the squeeze-pull routine, she began to pinch harder, pull farther, trying to reach the same flashpoint of pleasure and pain she’d hit the first time.

  “That’s it babe. Roll your hips.”

  With each thrust, the beads stroked her, all of her. She arched her back to increase the pull on her breasts and the pressure against her pussy. Her toes were at the edge of a magnificent precipice and she was ready to jump off. If he stopped her now, she’d die.

  “Good. Now—”