She was transfixed. The roller coaster had whipped her from the lazy scenic ride to climbing that steep hill, knowing the screaming drop would come. Her pussy clenched, anticipating, wildly wet for this man. Already she wanted to beg, wondering what he’d make her do.
“They hurt some, sir.”
“And that pretty ass of yours? How does that feel?” He stroked the small of her back, then cupped her bottom, squeezing.
“Bruised.”
“Is that so? I think I shall have to check. Turn around. Bend over, brace your hands on the fountain basin.” He snapped out the orders in a soft voice, pulling the remnants of the dress off her and tossing it and the bra aside.
She bent over the basin, kicking off her shoes and rising on tiptoe when he told her to, her face close to the stone lovers. A demon’s tail sprouted from the base of the man’s spine and coiled around the woman’s waist, holding her as surely as his grip on her wrists.
“Lean in more. Prop your chin on the basin,” he said, his voice remote and...sly? She did as he said and squealed when the position put her naked breasts under the rain of water. He laughed. “That will cool those sore nipples, yes?”
“Yes, sir.” She made herself stay there, another kind of torture.
“Hook your thumbs in the sides of your panties and pull them down. Slowly.”
She obeyed, drawing the lacy silk down, resting her chin on the basin for balance. The fabric parted wetly from her aroused flesh and she moaned a little.
“Too fast. Pull them up again and do it again. Slowly.”
He moved around her, adjusting the little spotlights to shine on her body, the ones embedded in the mossy stones shining up her taut thighs. A click, and a fire flickered into life in a decorative basin nearby, warming her skin.
“Again,” he commanded.
She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling caught between the chill of the water on her breasts and the pulsing heat between her legs. Prejean pulled up a chair behind her, ordering her to open her legs a bit more, then to raise her panties again and lower them, ever more slowly.
Finally, he had her pause, holding her panties at mid-thigh, trembling from the strain of staying on tiptoe.
“Now let’s see.” He splayed warm hands on her naked bottom, dipping into her slick sex to drag moisture up her crack. He probed her gently and she whimpered a little. “Definitely bruised,” he pronounced. “We’ll just have to find something else to torment, won’t we? Stay right there. Don’t move.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him leaving the courtyard. “Wait! I mean, sir, please don’t leave me.”
She hadn’t meant it to sound so pitiful, so...needy. He walked to her and stroked her back, soothing. “I would never leave you, chère. That’s not how I’m built. Not who I am.”
“I meant—”
“Shh. I know what you meant. I’ll be right back and I want you to wait here like this for me. Can you do that? Remember you have your safe word, if this is too much.”
“It’s not too much.” She said it to herself as much as to him.
“There’s no shame if it is. Tell me true, Ruby love.”
“Just...hurry back.”
He kissed her cheek and patted her bare bottom with affection. “With such a gorgeous sight awaiting me, you can be sure of that.”
It felt like forever that she waited, spotlighted in the otherwise darkened courtyard, the sounds of jazz and whooping partiers drifting down the streets. Her breasts had gone numb, but the fire kept her warm. She felt poised like a sculpture, captured in a moment of sliding her panties down, offering her nakedness to her lover. Offering whatever he wanted.
The shudder of acceptance rolled through her. This was what he meant, being in the moment. Not anticipating. Not thinking. Suspended in desire.
“Perfect.” Prejean stroked down her back and sides, voice penetrating her trance of arrested arousal. “Can you hold that pose?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s not easy to stay still when you’re not tied in place. It takes practice and great discipline.” He fondled her wet lips, stroking her clit. She had to concentrate on not coming immediately, she was so on edge. “I know you have the discipline, but so very little practice. So we’ll keep this brief. You get to practice being honest about pain. Zero is no pain at all, ten is unbearable.” He set a hand on the small of her back, holding her still. “When you want to end it, pull up your panties. Ready?”
“Yes, sir.” She hoped. What was in his other hand?
A bee stung her inner thigh and she jumped, her blood pounding. “What was that?” She gasped it out. Her clit throbbed, ready to explode.
“Give me a number.”
For a giddy moment she wanted to ask if he meant pain level or proximity to climax. Something smooth and plastic stroked the spot, like a wand. It hadn’t been that bad. Just surprising. Less sting than the paddle. But zinging straight to her core. She broke out in a light sweat.
“Point five,” she said, trying to sound carefree. 9.75 on the personal Richter scale.
“Is that so?” He didn’t believe her. Another sting, on the other thigh, very close to her spread sex, which impossibly seemed to engorge in response. She wrestled the orgasm down, straining to exert every ounce of self-control. “Number.”
She hadn’t cried out that time, but it had hurt more. A lot more. She wanted more. “Two?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“I don’t know.” She cocked her hips up, silently begging him to keep going.
He pressed the thing against her naked pussy and she whimpered, the contact nearly sending her over the edge. “What if it was here? Be honest. I have to be able to trust that you’ll tell me the truth.”
Blood roared in her ears. “Try me.” She said it like the dare it was.
The shock hit her like a bolt of lightning, a bright flash of pain and then the roaring release of climax. It ripped out of her, totally beyond her control, and she screamed, feeling herself flying apart, nothing more than shrapnel.
She became aware that Prejean had one hand clamped over her mouth and the other wrapped around her waist, holding her tight while she writhed against him. He was laughing breathlessly in her ear, lowering her to the moss-covered bricks.
“Christ Jesus, Dani—give a guy a little warning, would you? The neighbors will think I murdered you.”
Uncaring of that, she turned in his embrace and clamped her hands on the sides of his head, kissing him with a wild ferocity, pushing him onto his back. Electricity coursed through her veins, sparking, burning her from the inside out. Needing more release.
He returned the kiss, tongue tangling with hers, matching her mood. When she pulled back to rip open his shirt, buttons flying, he dropped his head back, laughing again, a bright, joyful sound.
The panties were tangled around her knees, and she stood to wiggle out of them. His eyes fastened on her, bright with admiration and hot desire. She straddled him, pulling at the button on his jeans, the zipper, then took his hard cock in her mouth, driving him hard.
“Wait, wait, wait.” His hands were on her shoulders, pushing her away. “I want to be inside you. Here.” He was fumbling at a foil condom packet and she snatched it from him, snapping it open and rolling it down his cock with sudden, excruciating slowness. As slowly as he’d made her pull those damn panties down, over and over.
He let her. Tense under her hands, fi
ngers digging into the moss and eyes tightly closed. She cupped his heavy balls, rolling them, and he panted, mastering the sensation—something she was beginning to recognize.
“Do you ever play it the other way?” She stroked his shaft, firm over the condom.
He cracked an eye at her. “You think you have what it takes to top me?”
She pinched the head of his cock and squeezed his balls, watching him shudder. “Might be fun to try.”
“Not tonight.” He grinned and wrapped his legs around her, flipping her neatly onto her back. Lacing his fingers with hers, he pressed her hands to the bricks and settled between her spread thighs. “You’d have to earn that.”
He nudged his cock inside her, her entrance so slick, so gasping open that the head slid in easily. “Tell me what happened just now.”
“I...I came without permission.” She arched her back, trying to ease him in another inch. He teased her, dipping in and out with shallow flicks of his lean hips. She curled her fingers into claws. He tightened his grip on her wrists.
“More than that. The wand got you, didn’t it. You couldn’t help yourself.”
“No,” she moaned when he deepened his thrust. “I couldn’t.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I can’t.”
“You were totally out of control, weren’t you?”
“Yes. Oh yes.”
He buried himself to the hilt and held it, lips lifting in a wicked grin. “Want to go there again?”
“Please, sir!” she gasped.
“Hold on then,” he growled, nearly withdrawing, then slammed into her and she started coming again, fast, wild, nearly violent. Their bodies slid against each other, entwined. Somewhere in there he released her wrists, holding himself up on rigid arms while he drove himself into her, a determined, nearly feral look on his face.
She dug her nails into his chest, dragging them down his flexing pecs, still somehow convulsing in this endless climax. His jaw clenched, his face a rictus, his back arching, and he came, pulsing in and out of her with deep strokes.
Then collapsed on her, a hot, lean and comforting weight.
“Danielle,” he breathed.
They lay like that for a while, both breathless. She idly stroked light fingers down his back, savoring the various aches and the lassitude brought by such intense pleasure.
He finally levered himself up, with a gentlemanly apology for crushing her. It made her laugh that he concerned himself about that, but not about putting an electric shock on her most intimate parts.
“I guess the experiment didn’t go all that well.” She shrugged into the robe he’d brought out with him.
Giving her a sidelong look, he snorted softly. “You are a treasure trove of delightful surprises, chère.”
“But I didn’t complete the test—with the pain scores.”
He pushed her hair—now in wildly curling disarray—back from her face and ran his thumbs over her lips. “I feel like I have to keep telling you. This isn’t a contest. The rules are there to heighten it all. There is no win or lose. No goals. It’s all about the experience.”
She nipped his thumb and smiled. “That was some experience then.”
He brushed her lips with his. “You’re welcome.”
* * *
In the morning, she turned on her phone first thing and contacted Adri to get on changing the plan for the day. She gave her assistant a list of props to acquire, watching Prejean smirk at her requests while she sipped his perfect coffee and he cooked her breakfast.
“It seems wrong,” she told him, hanging up to let the mystified Adri round up the supplies, “for me to sit here while you cook for me.”
He wore a white chef’s apron over his shirtless chest and the same faded jeans from last night. It was an enticing sight that would be even more phenomenal if he wore nothing but the apron. She wondered if he’d do that for her.
Probably so. There didn’t seem to be much of anything he wasn’t interested in. Everything lit him up like a kid at Christmas. She hadn’t known many—if any—people like that.
“You can cook for me any time you like.”
“I’m terrible at it. Another reason it’s easier just to eat salad.”
“Would you feel better if I put you in a collar and cuffs and made you scrub my kitchen floor on your hands and knees?”
She choked on the coffee, sputtering. “What an image.”
He lifted a shoulder and gave her a cheeky grin. “Some women get off on that. Naughty homemaker.”
“Somehow housework is not all that sexy to me.”
“Good thing I pay someone to clean then.” He set a plate in front of her. Strawberries, a poached egg in dill sauce and a golden brown muffin bursting with fat blueberries.
“How do you make muffins while I’m taking a shower? How is that even enough time?”
He shoved a chunk of muffin into his mouth and grinned around it. “‘S a gift.”
“I really appreciate you letting me do this shoot here today. You’ve really saved my ass.”
“I like your ass, so I have a vested interest in saving it. Besides, it’ll be interesting.”
“Don’t you have to go into the restaurant?”
“I will. I usually pop in midmorning, check that everything’s tight for the lunch crowd. Sometimes I stay, sometimes not. This time of year we don’t get too fancy. The Mardi Gras folks are more into cheap drinks and parades than fine cuisine.” He dipped a finger into the remnants of her dill sauce. “Though, I must say, you bring out the best in me.”
“You’re an excellent chef.”
“I know.” He leaned across the counter and kissed her on her wrinkled nose. “Tonight, I will let you help me.”
“Would you wear that apron and nothing else?”
He glanced down at himself and narrowed his eyes at her. “Why, Miss Sosna, you naughty thing. Are you objectifying me?”
“I dunno—is it kinky?”
“Always, chère. Always.”
* * *
Adri turned up an hour later, quickly followed by Areatha, Stella and Richie. Dani figured those two models would be the most likely to do what she had in mind and Richie the most flexible in capturing the feel she wanted.
Dani introduced her assistant to Prejean, calling him a “local chef” and a “friend.” He flicked her an amused glance at that and Adri, waiting until his back was turned, opened her eyes wide and mouthed, Oh. My. God.
She ignored them both and suggested Adri take the supplies directly back to the courtyard. Areatha, looking dewy from the facial—that was at least something—immediately attached herself to Prejean. Something Dani should have thought about ahead of time. Seeing the lovely blonde drape herself over him—cooing Bobby-this and oh-Bobby-that, and she was sure she recognized him from America’s Top Chef, right? Right?—drove Dani immediately insane.
But Prejean, to his credit, handled her with the exact right blend of grace and disdain. One diva to another. He would be practiced in that sort of thing, wouldn’t he? Accustomed to dealing with celebrities. Perhaps even being one himself.
Why had this never occurred to her?
Because she’d been too busy letting him fuck her brains out in every way imaginable.
Then they dug into the shoot and even Areatha managed to pull out some professional behavior. If Adri gave her raised-eyebrow shocked looks and Richie assessed her with a leer more than once, she didn’t
give a shit. Cassidy wanted sexy, by God she’d get it. They all knew Cassidy was Not Happy and this was a good team. Stella and Areatha gamely posed in the masks, capes, collars and chains. Richie overcame his initial discomfort, quit with the leering and snide comments, and suggested making use of the dappled shade cast by the bars of the arbor to intensify the feeling of sexy imprisonment.
Prejean turned out to be a great props assistant—all that training as a sous-chef, most likely—efficiently and cheerfully providing anything Dani asked for. If she imagined it, he had it. Which made her wonder what he might have that she hadn’t thought of.
Using those fantasies, Dani focused on telling the story of her time with Mr. Pirate Kink. A metaphorical story of journey and surrender, using the contrast of the ethereal blonde with the ebony gleam of Stella’s long limbs. The intimate courtyard framed them, part of the story too. All the secrets behind the tall stone walls.
One shot of Areatha, masked in sequined black and wearing a Gautier evening gown, on her knees at Stella’s feet, kissing her gold Manolo Blahniks, simply took Dani’s breath away.
This stuff was pure genius.
She knew it in the core of her being.
Chapter Thirteen
Prejean wasn’t there when she unlocked the door that evening. Once the shoot was over, he’d taken off for the restaurant, regretfully ducking Areatha’s not-so-subtle hints about visiting him there. He’d texted Dani that he’d be a little late. First her name and now her cell number—he’d laughed at her when she hesitated over trading that information.
Somehow handing over her body had been so much...simpler.
Dani had returned to the B&B, firing off triumphant emails and assembling the spread. Cassidy would love it. Then she packed her things and checked out. After all, she’d only be in the city two more nights and then—Paris!
If the idea seemed ever so slightly less shiny than it had a few days ago, well, fantastic sex could do that to a girl. This fling had been good for her.
Ruby Page 12
