by Lilac James
When he stopped, she lay limp for a moment, her mind a blank spot in an ocean of pleasure. “Oh. My. God.” she repeated, her voice a thin thread.
“Just wait, honey. It’s only going to get better.”
She couldn’t stand better. She’d die if he did anything better. At the same time, she couldn’t wait to see what he’d do. Remembering what she’d done to him made her whimper with anticipation. While she tried to remember how to breathe, he lavished the same attention on her other breast, then raised his head. “Wish I could see the look on your face, honey,” he told her. He drew his hands slowly, ever so slowly across her stomach, heading for that most throbbing part of her.
She couldn’t keep her hips from bucking upward. He laughed, just the ghost of a sound, and whispered, “So impatient.”
She stilled her eagerness, but his hands skirted that eager place and traveled across her thighs to her knees. Her disappointed moan strangled in her throat when his fingers slid upward and brushed across the lush curls between her legs. A million tiny sparks zinged through her body, bouncing and colliding until she thought her blood had caught fire.
“Hey. You still with me there?” he asked, and that rasping whisper started a whole new cascade of sparks.
“Don’t stop,” she managed to mutter. “Don’t stop.”
“Not on your life. But I think we want you in a different position.”
Before she could react, he’d released one leg, drawn it up so her knee was bent, and refastened the bindings. Oh. She’d seen drawings, and the memory only heightened her excitement. The pictures had shown people having sex—people fucking, Bessie. Even if you can’t say it, you can think the words—women with their legs drawn up just the way he positioned her and men lying on top of them. She’d felt cheated that she couldn’t see—well, anything.
She’d certainly seen something last night. But she hadn’t had any idea how it would feel to have him touching her.
He put his hands on her knees and an end to her thoughts. When he pushed her knees apart, she held her breath.
She could feel him looking at her.
He brushed his fingers across her curls again, setting off that dynamite train of sizzle.
When she’d done this, her fingers had touched her clit; it had been wonderful. If he touched that sensitive knot of nerves, she’d go into orbit at the first touch.
He did it.
“Oh-h-h.” She didn’t shout it, but that surely hadn’t been a whisper.
“Like that, do you?” If his hands hadn’t trembled just a little, if his breath hadn’t caught on the question, she could almost think he was completely unaffected by what he was doing.
“Please,” she whispered. Moaned.
He drew a finger up, across her vagina—habit made her stumble over the word—and stopped on her clit. And just stayed there while she dissolved into a stew of desire.
“Please,” she whispered.
His finger traced a path downward, around her opening.
Her hips shifted as she tried to position herself where he could slip it inside. She wanted to feel him inside her. She needed to feel him inside her.
“No.”
No? What the hell did he mean? “This is no time for no,” she managed.
“‘Fraid it is, honey. You were the one who insisted on no penetration. Remember?”
“Rules can be changed,” she muttered when the flash of temper faded. She had insisted that Mr. X agree to that rule.
“Nope. Lafcadio must have explained that to you. We agreed on the rules, and there’s no changing in the middle of a scenario.”
His hand, that enticing finger, remained just a breath away from where she wanted it. Her own fault. “But I changed my mind.”
“We can have a new scenario tomorrow night.” This time his whisper was low and seductive.
“You mean meet here and actually have sex?”
“Yes, I mean meet here and actually have sex.”
“No.” The word popped out, an automatic response that she didn’t mean.
He chuckled and repeated the circle motion, drawing some of her own moisture up and massaging it into her clit.
“Yes.” This time she meant it with her whole being. “Yes. But what about now?” It took all her self-control not to scream the question at him.
“I think we can take care of now.” Amazing how even a whisper could be so full of satisfaction.
“What—”
“Relax. I’ll do all the work.” She felt him leaning over her, his thumbs pressing at her entrance, and he put his mouth over her clit.
“Oh. God.”
“Yeah. Believe it,” he mumbled and circled her with his tongue, licking and sucking until she had no mind, no thoughts, nothing but an entire aurora borealis blazing across the blackness of forever.
* * * *
She’d been amazing. He’d be willing to bet his life she’d never been touched by a man, any man, before. Her responses had been overwhelming, especially when he’d used his mouth on her. Her clit practically vibrated with eager response. His semierection began to harden at the memory.
He had every reason to believe women found him to be a generous and effective lover, but he’d never brought such pleasure to a woman. Never. That had never sounded like the biggest turn-on in the world—but it turned out whatever sex guru had said that had been 140 percent correct.
No way was he going home to his elegant but generic apartment in this condition. His lonely apartment. No way would some easy bar pickup suffice, and he’d never been one to pay for what he could always get free.
Talk about between a rock and a hard place.
He could put the all-concealing hood on. He could walk around the public part of the club. Or…Lafcadio’s office was just down the hall. He tapped on the door and five minutes later headed for the public area wearing a briefer mask. He wouldn’t be involved in any close encounters, so the gaudy devil half mask would conceal his identity adequately.
When he reached the big room they called the Dungeon, he paused just inside the door to get his bearings. Dim lighting made everything look mysterious and a little dangerous, which matched his mood perfectly.
A bed in one corner held a couple. One had been bound so intricately he couldn’t tell if it was male or female. Not that he—or anyone else in the room—cared. His gaze skipped over other couples and threesomes having sex in a variety of ways. Nothing there he hadn’t done himself.
In the center of the room stood some kind of wooden frame. While he watched, a man, obviously a dom, led a woman wearing only a studded collar and leash up a couple of stairs. When they reached the frame, he tied her arms to it, much as Reece had been bound that first night. This looked interesting. He leaned against the railing surrounding the area and waited to see what might happen.
The man, topless, unmasked, obviously enjoyed the audience he’d attracted. Once he’d tied his partner to his satisfaction, he leaned down to kiss her possessively, a hand covering one of her breasts.
The other hand held…something that Reece figured must be some kind of whip, but it looked like nothing he’d ever seen before. A bunch of long, strippy fringe hung from one end. He frowned, trying to make out what it was.
“Hey, if it isn’t Mr. X. Didn’t expect to see you here again,” a voice at his side said softly. “I guess you like it more than you expected.”
He turned and saw Diego bellying up to the railing beside him.
Reece smiled. “It’s been—entertaining.”
Diego gestured at the couple in front of them. “I didn’t figure you were one for flogging. You sure sounded like a virgin the other night. No offense. I meant, a virgin about BDSM.”
“Oh, you were right enough. I wouldn’t say I’m exactly vanilla, but I’ve never gotten into this stuff. But…” He shrugged. “Never say never.”
“This is a good guy to watch. He’s proficient.”
Reece nodded, his attention caught by the movem
ent of the— “What’s that thing called, anyway?” he asked.
“It’s a flogger. He makes his own. That one’s strips of inner tube.”
Reece hated sounding clueless, but the whole scenario was stirring an excitement he’d never imagined. “I thought people used more like whips for this kind of thing.”
Diego jerked his chin toward a couple of men at another frame in one corner of the room. A man had been bound in a cat’s cradle of rope, intricate patterns of knots like macramé holding him motionless, while his partner wielded something that looked like a riding crop. “You can use almost anything for flogging, depending on the results you want. I prefer leather, myself.”
Reece turned his attention back to the couple in front of him. The man had begun swishing the tails of the flogger across his partner in what looked like soft caresses across her neck and breasts.
“Point of etiquette,” Diego murmured. “Never hit the face, right on a bone, like elbows, or breasts, or genitals.”
Reece controlled a shudder. “Sounds like a good idea.” He watched as the man picked up a second flogger and began using them in a complex, interwoven pattern. “Looks like a dance,” Reece observed.
“Takes a lot of skill, not just to do that but the simpler things too. You don’t want to really hurt your partner.” After a moment, he added, “I could show you how, if you’re interested.”
No way. Absolutely. No. Way.
Ten minutes later, Reece stood at one of the frames, watching attentively as Diego tied his arms and wondering how the hell he’d ended up doing this.
Chapter Seven
Holy Jesus God. Last night had blown his mind. The interlude with Diego had been a real eye-opener and had kept him from thinking about Ms. Mystery until he’d gotten home. In the privacy of his room, he’d admit that everything about the woman had him obsessed. He’d never, ever let a woman have control over him, and the first two times he’d been with her, she’d held all the cards. Or the handcuffs. And he’d liked it. More than liked it, if he were to be honest.
Last night that had ended, and he’d been the one in charge. Or¸ as Diego had said, he’d been the dom. He could get used to that.
And tonight…yeah. Tonight she’d agreed to sign up for a full-penetration scenario. She had to be a virgin, which didn’t thrill him as much as conventional wisdom insisted it should. Give him a woman who knew what she was doing, every time.
Tonight he’d have to be extra careful of her, go extra slowly. Make sure she got with the program. She’d been supernervous last night. Probably even worse tonight, but she was one hot babe when she relaxed.
All he had to do was relax her.
He smiled. She could sure relax the hell out of him.
He strode through the front entrance of the company building, anticipation and optimism overflowing into the happy tune he whistled.
“Wow. You’re sure happy this morning, Mr. Ferguson,” the receptionist said as he walked across the lobby.
Her presence reminded him he was later than he liked to be. It had been too hard to pull himself away from memories of last night. And daydreams about tonight, which required an appointment with his hand.
“Morning,” he said, without pausing. “Yeah. Great day.”
“Wait, sir,” she called as he sped toward his office.
He stopped and turned back to her. What the hell was her name? “Yes?”
“The boss wants to see you in his office as soon as you arrive. He said it was urgent, and your mother is there too.”
Now what was wrong? More of the Hendricks mess, he’d bet. At the very least, it sounded like a problem that would take some polish off the bright and glowing morning. “Thanks,” he said over his shoulder and headed for the elevator to the top floor.
Yep. Has to be Hendricks. He knew the minute he stepped through the door to Joe’s office and saw not just his mother but Mark Hibben and two of his staff. Everyone turned to look at him, and every face had the same “oh good Reece is here and he’ll fix it” expression.
Shit. Thoughts of Ms. Mystery faded, and temper burned in his gut. If Joe had handled this properly in the first place… Maybe it was time—past time—for Joe to back off and let his expensive CEO handle the problems. Much as Reece loved his uncle, he could see some serious battles coming up as Joe’s out-of-date ideas clashed with the modern business world. Uncle Joe had been an old-fashioned tycoon, a “my way or the highway” kind of guy who had been known to cut a corner here and there. Reece had learned that aggressive but scrupulous honesty won in the long-term. He sighed. “Good morning. Or, from your grim faces, not so good morning.”
“Definitely not,” Joe said, gesturing him to a seat.
“Hendricks, I suppose,” Reece replied as he sat.
“The Hendricks mess, of course. It’s Corinne Lasky.”
“She’s gone to the papers? We’re ready for that,” Reece said. “I got the PR department to prepare several statements for whatever she might say. We can modify and call a press conference—”
“No, dear,” his mother said. “She sent me an e-mail. Or someone sent it in her name. That’s the problem.”
This sounded like it would require something stronger than coffee, but he’d have to go with what was available. “You’d better tell me the whole thing,” he said with resignation as he got up to pour himself a cup.
“I got an e-mail this morning, supposedly from Ms. Lasky. It renewed her demand for five million dollars. And it detailed the charges she’s prepared to level in the most public way possible should we refuse.”
“So what’s the problem? Sounds like a police matter to me,” Reece said. “Get her arrested and charged with blackmail, and then whatever she says will lack credibility.”
Joe snorted. “That’s the problem. She’ll talk. She’ll ruin—”
“Calm down, Joe,” Reece’s mother said. She patted his arm. “You’re getting quite purple, and that’s not good for you. Reece can take care of this.” She shot Reece a glance that said he’d better take care of the problem before her brother-in-law self-destructed.
Yes, Mom. “Joe, I told you before: we cannot keep her quiet, short of murder, and we are not doing that. So we have to concentrate on minimizing the damage she can cause. Having her identified as a blackmailer will help our defense.”
Hibben nodded. “He’s right, Joe. The problems, Reece, are two. One is that if she’s making empty threats and we call a press conference, we’ll be the ones starting the publicity free-for-all. And the second is that if that e-mail is not from her…well, she could end up suing the police for false arrest and us for slander.”
“Damn. You’re right. But we’ve got a computer department. Can’t they figure out the source?”
“They’re on it.”
“Or…” He had to disengage from Joe’s morbid fear of publicity. He’d always been good at thinking on his feet, or, as in this case, on his seat. “Not such a big problem. We don’t do anything but turn the e-mail over to the police. Let them figure out what to do. We can stress that we can’t be sure who sent it.”
“But the publicity,” Joe moaned.
“It’s an open police case. We can make no comment at this time, but Ferguson Inc. as a company will always act in the most ethical manner possible.”
His mother perked up. “That’s excellent, Reece,” she said. “Just excellent. “You’ll be able to feed the reporters the idea that we are the good guys here and they’ll have egg on their front pages or websites if they slant stories to favor Lasky.”
Joe scowled. “You agree with him, Susie?”
“I do. And so do Mr. Hibben and his associates.”
Hibben nodded. “This is a damn mess, Joe, but he’s right.”
“If we have to, we have to,” Joe conceded, and he reached for the phone.
* * * *
Back in his own office, Reece shut the door and hoped for five minutes, just five little minutes of peace. Having to argue Joe into a
sensible course of action when he wanted to think about tonight had been…hard. Like something else in his life. Even a minute ago, walking past Bessie the Prim’s desk had given him a jolt of lust. Tonight could not come soon enough.
He sat behind the desk and leaned back, ready for Ms. Mystery to slip into his mind and take away the last couple of hours.
Someone knocked.
Bessie hadn’t buzzed him to see if he’d answer. He scowled and said, “Come in.”
His mother peered in. “Reece?”
“What now, Mother?”
“I’m sorry to intrude, but just a couple of quick things before I leave.”
Ms. Mystery would have to wait. Damn it. “Of course. Come in.” He led her to the seating area by one of the windows. “More coffee?”
She shook her head. “I think I’ve had about a year’s worth of caffeine already this morning. Convincing Joe to do something he doesn’t want to do…well, your dad said he always was a stubborn boy.”
Reece laughed, surprising himself. Ever since he’d arrived, he’d found dealing with Joe to be more stressful than he expected. “And he hasn’t changed much.”
“That’s one of the things I want to talk to you about. This may sound disloyal, but I think it’s time for Joe to retire. To take a less active role in the company. How do you feel about that?”
“It would be like my birthday and Christmas all wrapped up in one.”
“Good.”
“I wondered if it was just me. Or that I was new.”
“No, dear. He second-guessed the previous CEO until the poor man almost lost his mind. And he wasn’t one to stand up to the owner of the company the way you do.”
“I’m afraid I’m gonna give him a heart attack one of these days.”
“Since you agree with me, I’m going to see that he has something to do with his time that doesn’t involve messing with your job.”
Reece raised an eyebrow in question.
“Your Uncle Joe needs to discover there’s more to life than work. He used to love photography, so I’m going to take him to China. That should keep him out of your hair and give him a chance to relax. What do you think?” She sat back, smug as a cat with a mouthful of canary feathers.
