by Jane Lark
I undid his button and his fly and freed Jack from his jeans and his designer-fitting boxers that hugged his hips and bottom in luxurious cotton, then dropped down to kneel on a cushion on the floor, and I played with my tongue and my hand and mouth, while his tied hands rested on my head and his hips pressed up in the rhythm of sex, enjoying my games.
‘If you carry on, I’m going to come.’ The music speakers played out ‘One for the Road’. I didn’t stop. I wanted to be in control and make him come. I liked having control over him; it had become a to-and-fro game, and now I was winning.
He swore when he came. ‘You fucking bitch.’ But it wasn’t said aggressively. It was said because he’d hit bliss and he hadn’t wanted to go there yet. Joyous control. His salty fluid filled my mouth when his hips jerked up. I swallowed it away, then rose up and kissed him with the taste in my mouth. ‘Bitch.’ He breathed over my lips when I pulled away.
‘Get up!’ I ordered.
He stood up, his erection bouncing, slightly falling forward because he’d come.
‘Strip your jeans off.’
He caught his thumbs in the front of them and slid them down, then used his feet to work them off the rest of the way, along with his socks. It was very deftly done and I watched every inch of his beautiful body moving. ‘Now take off your boxers.’ They were still at his hips, below his erection and his balls. He slid them down his dark hair-covered thighs and then off his feet.
I stepped back a couple of paces. ‘Lie on the cushions, on your tummy.’
I was going to have some real fun now.
He reached his hands above his head as he lay down.
I was faced with the beautiful arch, from his broad shoulders into his narrow waist and hips, and I could see the intricate patterns of muscle beneath his skin. Who knew how he managed to tone them all? His pert bottom begged me to repay some of his sadistic games from last night. I knelt down and smacked him with a hard, quick slap to leave an after-sting.
‘Ow!’
I laughed. But it felt like it wasn’t hard enough. I did it again.
‘Ivy! If you’re trying to get me hard again, not the way…’
I laughed in a way that mocked him. ‘Doesn’t it turn you on, Jack?’
I didn’t wait for the answer. I stood up, then ran upstairs, remembering my leather belt in my case. I ran back down with it, naked and uncaring, because with Jack I felt like I didn’t need to care. He didn’t care what he did.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Getting some pay-back,’ I answered as I straddled his thighs, then I whipped his arse with the end of the belt.
‘Ow! Fuck! I didn’t use anything!’
‘You’re stronger than me – this makes it fair.’
‘Ow! I won’t be able to sit down tomorrow!’
‘Shut up.’
‘Ow!’
I laughed as I carried on, but I wasn’t hitting him that hard, only enough so he would feel the same pain I had last night. ‘Aren’t you turned on yet, Jack?’
‘No.’ He breathed out, getting my point. ‘But are you? Is it turning you on, Ivy?’
Okay, so he’d made his point too because yes it was… A lot.
I didn’t stop or answer. He knew the answer. The sound of the leather cracking hit my senses through the cannabis. It marked his skin with red welts and made his body jolt under my legs. He could probably feel the moisture from me on his leg.
After I threw the leather belt aside, I kissed and licked every sore, red mark and I was horny as hell by the time I asked him to turn over.
So was he.
His eyes tagged me, the pupils really wide, and his erection was a stiff straight-upward column that begged for more attention. I shuffled upward, straddling his hips and his hands came down from above his head and held his erection, aiming it at me with hope.
I laughed, then rose up, to give him what he wanted. I positioned myself, watching his face as he watched where we’d join.
When I let his tip slip in, his hands slid out of the way and then I pushed all the way down, impaling myself as his arms lifted above his head.
The control was still all mine; he couldn’t control anything with his hands tied.
I lifted and rocked, rose up and slid down, playing the role of a seductive stripper. I didn’t have to be shy, reserved Ivy with him, the person who Rick had placed in a glassed-walled prison of average life. I was free. I could do what I wanted. Find out who I was without Rick.
But somehow I couldn’t see myself as the sex goddess Jack was making me. I wouldn’t be into the things he’d done with Sharon. If he wanted to sleep with other people and me, I’d run. But I was glad I had this moment to live a little of his life. I’d experienced the extreme end of heart-pounding sex – or at least the extreme as far as I was willing to go. I’d look back on this Christmas my whole life and treasure that I’d dared to do something so crazy – even if I only did it once.
I lifted up and dropped down on to him as his hips pressed up and he pushed into me. Even with his hands above his head, his body was so muscular he could move and participate easily, undulating underneath me to the rhythm I’d set.
His eyes were closed and his lips set in a firm line, as though he was biting the inside of his lip trying not to come. His whole body glistened orange with a thin sheen of sweat in the heat and the light from the fire.
I moved down, sheathing him and broke apart. The orgasm flooded me with the strength of a tsunami sweeping through my body, obliterating everything else. I collapsed, falling on to his chest.
‘Oh, fuck. Ivy.’ His arms came down and rested on my shoulders, capturing me in the bonds I’d tied around his wrists, and his body kept undulating, thrusting up into me, as he moved his feet so his heels could press down on the floor tiles to give him more purchase, and more strength. ‘Fireside’ played out from the stereo, in a manic rush of sound, confusing my cannabis-distorted brain. There was nothing seductive in what Jack did, there had never been in anything he’d done since we’d been up here, it was just hard, naughty, and sometimes desperate sex, the sort of sex I’d imagined to turn myself on when I was with Rick.
When I recovered from my orgasm I joined Jack in the hurried battle for pleasure, my hands on the cushions either side of his head, as his arms rested on my shoulders, and our gazes clung to each other, just looking, absorbing. I thought about nothing but the feel of our bodies punching together at our hips, my thighs gripping his, my breasts catching on his chest – and all the sensations inside me.
I came again, and he followed; a deep, primal sound erupting from low in his throat.
Chapter 6
‘Ow.’ A hand slapped my naked bottom. It wasn’t the nicest alarm.
‘Come on, wake up, beautiful. We have shopping to do. I want to get into town before it’s too busy.’
‘Shopping?’
‘Yes, I want to get you some things. If you’re staying the rest of the week, then those high-heeled fancy boots you brought for walking around London won’t do.’
I looked at the clock. It was nine a.m. and he was dressed and his hair was wet as though he’d had a shower. He smelled nice.
I rolled over on the bed. We’d come up to his bedroom and had sex again last night, with me lying on my tummy and him lying over me. I’d fallen asleep afterwards without moving.
‘I’ll make some French toast while you shower, if you like?’
‘Thank you. I like.’ I slid off the bed. He watched while I found some clothes out from my case.
It was funny, because this was the second day, after the second night, and yet I felt just as I had yesterday – really awkward now it was daylight. The sex-goddess role I was playing with him was fine when I could hide in the darkness and the low light of the fire. But in daylight I had to face that woman and look her in the eyes. Who was she?
She wasn’t me.
When I walked into the bathroom, I heard his footsteps on the stairs.
An hour later Jack and I stood outside a sports shop in Keswick, watching a guy open up. He looked at us queuing on our own like we were weirdos who should have something better to do. It wasn’t a large shop and they didn’t seem to be going too much for the whole Boxing Day-sale thing.
Jack immediately started walking around the shop pulling things off racks and handing them to me. ‘Try these too.’ He gave me another pair of leggings that looked like jogging pants. I already had an arm full of things to try on: bottoms, tops and coats.
He turned back and looked at me. ‘Go on, then, try them on.’
‘You’re not my boss, Jack. Stop ordering me.’ But I turned away to find the changing rooms anyway.
‘Whatever. Remember you’re going to need enough until the thirty-first and you’ll want something to wear every day. You’ll be getting dirty—’
I looked back. ‘Why, what are we going to do?’
‘Wait and see.’
I went into the cubicle. None of it was sexy. It was all like jogging stuff. If he wanted me to go running with him, I wasn’t very fast.
I made the shop guy get a couple of alternatives and then picked four pairs of leggings and a couple of warm tops and a lightweight coat that was meant to be really warm even though it was thin. I didn’t show Jack any of my choices on. I didn’t like giving Captain Control the chance to tell me exactly what to wear, which was why two of the leggings I chose were ones the shop guy had given me.
Jack didn’t challenge my choices, though. When I came out of the changing room he threw a woolly hat at me and a pair of leather gloves. ‘You’ll need those, and shoes.’ He looked at the shop guy. ‘Something she can climb in… What size are you, Ivy?’
‘Seven.’
The guy immediately disappeared through a door, into a storeroom as Jack took the clothes I’d picked from me and carried them over to the till. He left them piled on the counter as the guy came back with three different boxes. Jack watched as the shoes were revealed. He selected a really light, thin pair of trainers for me to try on.
I didn’t argue, only looked at him and said, ‘Captain Control’ before I tried them on. His expression twisted with a look that questioned my comment.
When I said they were comfortable, he said we’d have them. The store guy had got over his reticence about his only Boxing Day shoppers as soon as he’d realised how much money Jack was willing to spend.
Jack chose some walking boots for me too.
‘Climb in?’ I whispered while we stood by the till and he found out his card.
He looked sideways at me and gave me the sort of twisted smile he’d have given me the day we’d begun all this, when we’d been queuing for coffee in Nero’s. Then he said, ‘Captain Control?’ with a lift of his eyebrows and a pitch that made the words a question.
‘Captain Control is you in a bossy mood, when you think no one else at work can get the project right, ‘cause Jack’s way is perfect.’
He made a face and shrugged the comment off. ‘One more place to go to.’
We walked out of the store loaded down with bags.
The one more place turned out to be a motorbike shop that sold leathers, helmets and boots. He bought me a helmet and he checked it fitted securely. I chose it, though. It was white and mauve, with silver trims so it would catch the light well. He picked out a leather outfit that fitted like a second skin; but was black with purple and white markings, so my colours. There was nothing sexy about it, yet my heart went pump, pump, pump… wondering what he wanted me to do now.
When we were back in the car, with all our purchases stored safe in the boot, I said to him, ‘Where are we going?’ It was past twelve o’clock. ‘I’m hungry.’
‘I’m taking you to one of my favourite villages. We can get something to eat there.’
‘Where?’
‘Grasmere. I wandered lonely as a cloud that floats on high o’er vales and hills—’
‘Uh?’
He glanced over at me as he changed gears and flicked the indicator on. ‘It’s Wordsworth: When all at once I saw a crowd, a host of golden daffodils, beside the lake, beneath the trees… and so on and so on.’ He looked over and laughed. ‘He wrote that poem up here.’
‘I never knew you were intellectual.’
‘I went to private school; you can’t avoid that stuff there.’
‘I didn’t know you went to a private school.’
‘Boarding school, but let’s not turn the conversation to that.’ He drove into another old-fashioned-looking village with grey-stone buildings, white-washed cottages and picture-postcard streets.
When he’d parked up I opened the door.
He grabbed the back of my coat before I could get out. ‘Wait a minute. Stay in the car.’
He got out and walked around to get something out of the boot, then he came around my side with the walking boots he’d bought me in his hand. ‘You’ll need these.’
I looked down at his shoes to make a point. His shoes were not walking boots.
He laughed. ‘Mine are in the back.’
I unzipped my heeled boots and took them off, then sat sideways in the front of the car and pulled the walking boots on and laced them up. When I stood up, I saw him lift a foot down from the boot; he’d been leaning on it to do his boots up. He shut the boot down.
‘Where are we going?’
‘To get something to eat and then to see another of the most special places in the world.’
We walked into the village, which had a charm all of its own including the tiniest shop I’d ever seen where they made an old gingerbread recipe. But the shop was shut so I couldn’t try any.
We stopped in a pub for lunch and ate steak-and-ale pies before walking out of the village and through a gate into a field.
I gripped his arm as I looked up a steep hill. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Up yonder hill and down dale.’
‘Stop talking in riddles. What are we doing?’
He freed his arm from my grip and, instead, wrapped it around my shoulders. ‘We’re walking up this hill because at the top of it there’s a really beautiful tarn: a lake, to ignorant people.’ His fingers squeezed my shoulder, then let go. ‘It’s called Alcock Tarn. You’re going to love it.’
His leather-gloved hand gripped my woollen, stripy glove and pulled me on.
He was right. I loved it. Oh my God, I loved it. It was so peaceful, an idyll. Right on top of the hill, like a secret paradise.
‘I’ve swum in it,’ Jack said, letting go of my hand and walking forward. He took his gloves off. ‘In the summer this year, I came up here at daybreak.’
He leant down and touched the water, sending out ripples. ‘Ah, shit that’s cold.’ He looked back at me. ‘It was fucking cold then too.’
I laughed when he stood up. We were making so many memories to keep a hold of up here. My lips parted in a wider smile.
‘Do you want to swim now?’ He rushed at me and picked me up.
‘Ahhh. No!’
He moved as if he’d throw me in, and he was so toned he controlled it until the last minute, making me really think he would. But he didn’t let go; instead he set my feet down on the edge of the grass. I turned and faced him. His eyes seemed darker. That look did weird things in my tummy, it was like a penny rolling around in a spiral dropping down inside me – and my internal muscles clasped at it.
His head bent down, then his lips were on mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back. It was the first time, except for the moment we’d made our agreement, that we’d kissed without any expectation of more.
I was still breathless from the kiss when we walked back down the hill. I was glad I’d come here with him. I didn’t regret it. I wouldn’t ever.
Jack picked up my plate. ‘Today you’re going to discover why I bought you all those clothes.’
‘I’ll wash up. You keep doing everything.’
‘Because I don’t care for other people’s cooking,
and you’d damage your nails washing up.’ He threw the tea towel that was on his shoulder at me. ‘You can dry up.’
I watched him walk back into the kitchen, then stood up and followed. It didn’t feel as awkward today. Last night we’d had sex in the shower before dinner, then eaten dinner and played a game of truth or dare, with sexual consequences.
The truth questions included him asking me how many people at work called him Captain Control? I told him everyone, when he took a project over.
‘Tell me what we’re doing?’
‘We’re doing what I spend most of my time here doing.’
‘What?’
He looked over his shoulder at me. ‘Climbing.’
‘You said climbing yesterday, but climbing what?’ I picked up a plate and started drying it.
‘Rocks.’ He lifted an eyebrow at me. ‘Cliffs.’
I wanted to punch that clever eyebrow. ‘I’m scared of heights.’
‘Perfect chance to get over that, then.’
‘You can’t just get over it.’
‘You can if you want to.’ He wasn’t looking at me any more – he was focusing on washing up. I couldn’t imagine him being scared of anything and if he was scared I think he would do what he was telling me: face up to it and ignore it.
I wasn’t like him.
He glanced back at me. ‘Look if you want to watch me and stare at the rock, that’s what you do. But I want to get some climbing time in up here. So sorry if it’ll be boring, but if it is, then it’ll be your fault for not taking part.’
I’d gained a new insight into his relationship with Sharon from things he’d said in our truth-or-dare game. They were both self-centred. I bet they hadn’t done much together – except have sex. But actually, even that they’d done apart too. They’d probably gone off and done their own thing all the time. Rick and me had been the opposite. He’d wanted us to do everything together: I’d endured hours on the edge of a rugby pitch in the freezing cold, watching.
I sighed. I didn’t have much choice about going today, though, unless I sat in here and listened to music, or aimlessly wandered around the field outside. It wouldn’t harm to go with him and watch him.
