Simply Irresistible

by Deborah Cooke

  A lot more.

  She insisted on trying the leather hood. It was padded to heighten the sense of isolation. He’d thought it might frighten her, but she didn’t use the safe word.

  No, she seemed to revel in the feel of the hood.

  And that did hard and thick things to Ty.

  Amy went back to the velvet hood, which she admitted she preferred, and Ty laced it snugly around her head. He ran his hands over her again to smooth it, wanting to feel her shiver and loving when she did.

  “Who needs a spanking?” Kyle said and there was a roar of agreement. The attendees were getting more confident, which was great. Amy raised her hand as well. “Well, let’s make sure you get the one you deserve,” Kyle continued. “First, let’s secure those hands.” He demonstrated a knot, one that he’d shown Ty earlier. Ty bound Amy’s hands behind her back, then knotted the rope around her waist to hold them in place.

  As he bent over her repeatedly, Ty became aware that Amy smelled delicious. Like sunshine and soap. It was one Ty recognized but he had to think about it. Neutrogena, with that little undertone of ash. It figured that she used that brand. He could smell her perspiration, ever so faintly, and that turned him on.

  But the scent that really finished him was that of her arousal. He could only smell that she was wet because he was so close, binding her and securing her. He was sure no one else could smell it. He would have killed anyone else who responded to it.

  It meant that she was really enjoying the class.

  And it meant that he was aroused, too. Thank God he’d worn a jock. No one else should know his reaction, and the tights Kyle had suggested left little to the imagination. Ty thought he was finally coming to understand what was so hot about these games. Even though they were complicated, if they worked for his partner, they worked for him.

  Amy was humming with her anticipation. Ty was so transfixed by her that he barely listened to Kyle’s patter.

  Ty braced his foot on a stool, just the way Kyle had shown him earlier. He tipped Amy over his thigh quickly and lifted her so that her toes were just above the ground. His left hand was planted on the back of her waist, holding her in place. She gasped, not able to see it coming, and Ty chuckled. “Now, you will pay the price, Angel,” he threatened and she kicked her feet.

  “Promises, promises,” she said, her voice a little breathless.

  Cheeky little minx. Ty felt an urge to give her what she deserved.

  “For the best spanking, we have to find the sweet spot,” Kyle said. “It’s right under the butt. So, if you’re getting a spanking, lean forward a bit and arch your back. If you’re giving the spanking, use a sweeping motion. You want to spank up.”

  Ty demonstrated, giving Amy a gentle smack.

  She caught her breath, then laughed. “That’s more of a tickle,” she accused.

  Kyle met Ty’s gaze, then brought him a leather paddle. He winked at the class, then Ty used it to give Amy another smack. It was harder this time, and the leather made a loud crack when it collided with her butt.

  She jumped, then he heard her giggle. “Better,” she said, wriggling her hips in a very distracting way. “It makes me feel warm.”

  “Three hard blows, right on the sweet spot,” Kyle said, and Ty leaned into it, making sure the paddle smacked hard. Amy jumped each time and he heard her catch her breath.

  “Now, the tease,” Kyle instructed. He was walking around the class. “It’s mixing the pleasure with the pain that feeds sensation. If you’re giving the spanking, caress that butt. Tickle it. Trail your fingers over it so that your partner shivers. You want to confuse the nervous system and have your pet find the pleasure in pain.”

  Ty trailed his fingertips across the sweet curve of Amy’s butt. She shivered, then she trembled. She was fully covered, sheathed in cotton and Lycra, but he wanted to touch her.

  He let his fingers trail into the crevice between her cheeks, just lightly, just for a moment. To his amazement, Amy moaned softly and parted her knees.

  Ty blinked. He swallowed. His desire roared.

  Then he spanked her again with the paddle, hard.

  Her nervous system wasn’t the only thing getting confused.

  * * *

  Amy was in heaven.

  She floated out of the room after the lesson, well aware that Matteo watched her every step. She felt sexy. She felt empowered. She felt hot. Her butt was a bit sore and her sex was humming. She’d been blindfolded and hooded, spanked, hog-tied, and bound in a g-string tie. It had all been amazing.

  Amy knew that was because of her partner. Matteo was strong but gentle, rough at the right time, mixing tender and tough in the way that made her crazy. She could have jumped his bones without a second thought and ridden him hard to their mutual satisfaction.

  She felt more aware of her body, too, after the class. She noticed the feel of her breath across her own skin, the heat of the water in the shower, the smell of the coffee from the refreshment bar, the scent of sweat and excitement.

  “Weren’t you the lucky one today?” one of the single women said to Amy in the shower. “What a score.”

  “Matteo!” came the chorus from that woman’s friends and one faked a swoon. “Have you ever seen a more gorgeous man?”

  “I’m glad he picked me,” Amy admitted, feeling herself blush. “I was lucky.”

  The woman waved off the comment. “He was watching you from the moment he walked in the door,” she said. “Maybe you should get his number.”

  “Or come back for another class,” suggested her friend.

  The idea of seeing Matteo again was definitely appealing, but Amy laughed it off. The women talked bluntly about the creepy single guy in the class and there were many jokes about him being chosen by Ivan for the demonstration. They then planned to ensure that none of them could be followed from F5.

  Amy’s euphoric mood sent her floating down to the street to the subway station. The sun was shining. The flower vendors had set up their wares. There was a street fair across the way and she smelled roasted meat and heard a band playing. It seemed in this moment that anything was possible.

  She just had to wish for it.

  What she wanted most of all—well, besides Matteo finishing what he’s started—was for Ty’s fake date plan to work the next day.

  That bet.

  She needed to dress for success and look like a woman he’d choose.

  Amy stopped beside a shop and looked in the windows. It was one of those designer clothing sales that popped up in empty retail spaces for a day or maybe two. Amy had passed the line of eager shoppers on her way to F5 earlier, but now there was no line. There were only a couple of women in the store, flicking through the garments on the racks, and a bored clerk examining her nails by the cash.

  All the good stuff was probably gone.

  It couldn’t hurt to look.

  On impulse, she turned into the shop.

  “Can I help you?” It turned out there was a second clerk, who was one of the women going through the racks of clothes.

  “I need a dress,” Amy confessed. “Elegant. Conservative. With a bit of flair. I’m going to a bridal shower in Connecticut. Huge. Garden society ladies.”

  “Ralph Lauren,” the clerk replied immediately. “Navy with polka dots.” She pulled two dresses off an adjacent rack, both cut of the same microfiber fabric. One was sleeveless with a crossover bodice and a little flutter at the hem. The other had short sleeves, a deep V-neck and a flared skirt.

  “That one,” Amy said, pointing to the second. “Do you still have an 8?”

  The clerk looked her up and down. “Only the 6 and the 10, but give them both a try. I would have guessed the 6 for you. There’s an 8 in the other style.”

  Amy took the dress and glanced at the tag. It was priced at a fraction of the retail price, which was awesome. Maybe this was her lucky day.

  The 6 fit, which was even better.

  She spun in front of the mirror outside
the change room, only to find the clerk watching her. “Red shoes or pink?” that woman asked. “I think pink with your hair.”

  Amy pivoted to face her. “You think I can wear pink?”

  “Absolutely. That stuff about redheads and pink is a lot of crap.” The clerk smiled. “Of course, I’m biased because we have Kate Spade shoes in pale pink with little kitten heels and bows on the toes.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “Seven and a half?” Amy asked, hoping.

  “I’ll see. And the matching clutch,” the clerk said, returning in a heartbeat with both.

  The combination looked perfect. Amy pushed up her glasses and had another good look at herself. “Pink lipstick?” she asked the clerk, who nodded.

  “I’d get a French manicure. Just pearl earrings, if you have them. Keep it simple.”

  “Right.” Amy added up the damage and nodded. Winning that hundred bucks from Tyler would put a big dent in the bill, and as she considered her reflection, she had to think that she’d just radically improved the odds of success.

  It definitely was her lucky day.

  She’d think about Matteo the whole way home and write like mad when she got there.

  Chapter Six

  Argenta was agile and quick, though not as quick as me. Even with my damaged leg, I am swift of foot. Her trepidation was no match for my resolve.

  Or maybe she wished to be caught. At the time, it did not occur to me, but now I wonder.

  I ensured the chase was longer than it needed to be, for that is part of the satisfaction. I let her put distance between us time and again, then sped up to be fast on her heels. She was panting and flushed, and her hair still flowed loose behind her. Still, there was a fire in her eyes that made me certain I was not alone in my enjoyment. I do not know how far we ran, but we were both out of breath when she stumbled over a tree root.

  I lunged for her, caught her around the waist, and rolled her beneath my weight. She struggled against me, but she had no chance to evade my intent. I had her wrists bound together in a flash, then stood up and cast the rope over the bough of a tree. I drew her up so that her toes barely touched the ground and she spun furiously in her attempt to escape. I adjusted my hood, ensuring that she did not see my face.

  “You…” she began with anger and aimed a kick at my crotch. I caught one foot and then the other, holding them both in one gloved hand. The heavy jute rope was knotted around her ankles in a heartbeat. I dropped the end to the ground and stood upon it, securing it with my weight. I liked that she was stretched taut and at my mercy.

  “You cannot do this…” she began, her eyes flashing. She watched as I pulled out my handkerchief and flicked it, then tied a knot in the middle. “You wouldn’t…”

  “I can and will,” I retorted. She had time to take a breath before I shoved the knot into her mouth. Whatever she had meant to say was lost in the knot. I bound the handkerchief behind her head so it could not be dislodged.

  Her eyes flashed fire still, which both intrigued and pleased me.

  I bent closer to murmur to her and the vixen tried to peer into the shadows of my hood. Was there no limit to her audacity? I hoped not.

  “There is a reason my handkerchiefs are so generously sized, and wrought of linen both thick and smooth.” I ran my gloved fingertip over her mouth. “You cannot see but my monogram is over your lips, marking you as my own, and I like the sight well.”

  She wriggled furiously, clearly outraged. Her eyes had darkened to the hue of clouds burdened with snow. I could see that her nipples were as tight as pebbles, even through the cloth, and I could smell her heat.

  It seemed that she liked my game as well as I did.

  The realization was intoxicating.

  Amy was home, seated at the kitchen table and writing as quickly as she could. The words were flowing like magic and she didn’t want to even stop to make a pot of coffee. It would probably get cold before she finished it, anyway. Fitzwilliam was dozing on the other kitchen chair, having abandoned his attempt to convince Amy to appreciate his catnip mouse.

  It rested beside her foot.

  Her cell phone rang and she just about jumped out of her skin. The sky was dark outside the windows and the only light on in the house was the kitchen pendant overhead. The phone rang again and Amy raced for her purse in the hall, grabbed the phone and answered without taking the time to check who it was.

  “Amy?”

  Big mistake. Amy wrinkled her nose and returned to the kitchen. “Hi, Brittany. How are things?” She already knew from the high pitch of her cousin’s voice that something had gone wrong.

  “It’s The Dress,” Brittany said in a rush.

  Brittany’s wedding dress had been The Dress in Amy’s imagination even before it had been ordered.

  “Why? It’s beautiful.”

  “No, it’s not! We went to pick it up this afternoon and the sleeves are all wrong. They tightened them too much at the cuff and I couldn’t even get it on! And they did something to the top of the dress…”

  “The bodice.” How could that be? Amy had been there for the last fitting and the dress had looked gorgeous.

  “It’s too tight! They insisted they hadn’t changed it, but I can’t breathe in it.” Brittany’s voice rose. “You should have been there…”

  It was odd how influential Ty’s comments about Brittany’s wedding were. Amy found herself thinking about how much she’d already done for her cousin, for how little thanks, and didn’t feel like signing up for more.

  If the dress that had fit three weeks ago didn’t fit now, that could only be Brittany’s own fault, and Amy couldn’t fix what her cousin put in her mouth.

  “I had a class today,” she said lightly. “There was no way I could have gotten to New Jersey, too.”

  Fitzwilliam wound around her ankles and mewed. Amy realized that she hadn’t fed him, and she hadn’t eaten either.

  “Well, you could have canceled it,” Brittany snapped. Amy refrained from pointing out that she couldn’t or wouldn’t have canceled a class to attend a fitting she hadn’t known about. “You should have been there,” her cousin repeated.

  “You didn’t tell me about it.”

  “You understand all this dressmaking stuff and know how to tell them what to do…”

  “It’s not that hard. You just point out what’s tight or what’s loose.”

  “Everything is tight!”

  “You didn’t happen to gain a couple of pounds?” Amy asked, because she was sure the dressmaker wouldn’t have dared to do so.

  “What if I had?”

  “Well, the dress would be tighter then. It’s not stretchy.”

  “And that’s just the kind of snarky comment that doesn’t help,” Brittany snapped. “This is a crisis, Amy, and one that wouldn’t have happened if you’d just been there….”

  Amy opened the fridge with Fitzwilliam beside her. The only thing in it was the box of leftover steak from her dinner with Ty the night before. She wasn’t giving the cat any more of that. It would be her dinner. She braced the phone against her shoulder and Fitzwilliam leaped to the counter to supervise. She took a can out of the cupboard and the can opener, serving Fitzwilliam’s dinner as she listened to the latest crisis.

  She really wanted to get back to Lothair and Argenta.

  Brittany wasn’t going to get to the end of her soliloquy anytime soon. She cried, then stopped, then cried again, then started the tirade about the dress again.

  Amy interrupted her cousin. “Well, the way I see it, you have a few choices. You can ask for the dress to be altered again. You can choose another one. You can go on a starvation diet. Or you can find a girdle.”

  Brittany didn’t think much of option number four. Amy put the phone down on the counter to put the food in Fitzwilliam’s dish, because she really didn’t need to listen to her cousin’s response. Bridezilla, she mouthed to the cat silently, knowing that her cousin had it bad.

 
When Fitzwilliam was happily dining, she picked up the phone again.

  “Did you hear me?” Brittany demanded. “I need you to come to the shop with me tomorrow and fix this.”

  “I can’t,” Amy said and was really glad it was true.

  “What do you mean you can’t?”

  “I have a date.”

  Brittany was struck to silence for a long moment. Amy arranged her leftover dinner on a plate for the microwave, content to wait. “You’re kidding me.”

  “No. I’ll find out tomorrow whether he can come to the wedding. I’ll let you know.”

  “You can’t just invite someone to a wedding a week before. The meals are finalized…”

  “My invitation was for myself and a date,” Amy said, then took a breath and lied. “I was hoping Tyler would be able to make it, but you know, it’s a big deal to ask someone to go to a wedding with you, especially if you’re in the bridal party. I wanted to leave it as long as possible before springing it on him. You understand.”

  “How long have you been seeing Tyler?” Brittany asked.

  Amy chose to take that literally. She’d been seeing him in the food court for a long time. “A couple of months, but you know how it is when everything’s new. You kind of take it one date at a time.”

  “Yes,” Brittany said, as if all the air was leaving her lungs. “You could have told me.”

  “I could have, but I didn’t want to make any distractions when you were planning for the big day.”

  “That’s true. You have no idea how much I’ve had to do.”

  Amy laughed, although she hadn’t meant to.

  “Why is that funny?”

  “Because I’ve actually done a lot of it, so I do know.”

  There was a poisonous silence. Amy couldn’t believe she’d just said something so very true, out loud.

  She had Ty to thank for that.

  “I see,” Brittany said, sounding a lot like Aunt Natalie when she was in a snit. “I suppose I won’t be able to count on you at all.”