Easy

by Donna Alam

  ‘Are you sure you’re okay with this?’ he asks quietly.

  Suddenly crushed by his kindness, I turn my head to look down at him. Can I really do this? Hope, expectancy, and desire shine in his gaze as Dan’s voice cuts in again.

  ‘Did I say you could touch her, Mr. Smith?’ His tone is even, but I can tell he’s pissed.

  Luke’s hand moves as though my skin is suddenly hot to the touch. He returns, touching only the zipper, drawing it from the back of my knees up.

  ‘You do surprise me, darling.’ I try to ignore Dan’s voice. His amused and satisfied tone. ‘Did you visit a fetish shop or buy online?’

  Keeping my head down, I refuse to rise to his baiting. As the zip reaches my waist, it parts like the pages of a book, falling stiffly to the floor.

  Dan’s gaze drops to the triangle of pale lace between my legs, where it stays. Is he shocked by their familiarity? Remembering the times he’d slipped my panties down my legs?

  ‘Mr Smith. The Master requires her underwear.’ He holds out his hand with the command.

  Near naked, in front of a sea of people, masked faces that cling to one wall as though not daring to enter further for fear of their Master’s machinations . . . I feel envied. Desired. My reactions are not at all in keeping with how I probably should feel.

  As I glance back at Dan, noticing he now holds a champagne flute by its rim. Seated now, he looks utterly at ease. One ankle crossed over the opposite knee, his posture screams of urbane inconsequence. I shiver as fingers slide between my panties and the skin of my hips, my eyes falling closed at the drag of material between my legs. As I open them again, Luke is in front of Dan. On his knees, arm outstretched. But Dan’s not watching him. His dark eyes are too busy burning holes in me.

  ‘Well?’ Dan purrs dangerously, his gaze sliding from me.

  ‘May I?’ Luke responds, indicating his outstretched hand.

  Dan half-nods, and intrigued and half-sickened, I watch as Luke brings the delicate lace to his nose, deeply inhaling. He looks blissful. For a couple of seconds at least, until sitting forward, Dan grabs a fistful of his hair quite suddenly.

  ‘Wrong,’ he growls, tilting his head sideward. Luke swallows thickly, screwing his eyes tight. ‘You deserve a forfeit. The Master hadn’t said.’ He raises his gaze from the man on his knees. ‘Come closer, darling,’ he demands.

  I shake my head, rousing myself, having watched this play out as though watching a piece of theatre or TV. My stomach is tight as I return to my role like one of Bluebeard’s betrotheds. A lamb to the slaughter might be a better analogy.

  ‘I believe I told you to strip.’

  A slow, predatory smile spreads across his face. I ignore it, glancing down at Luke’s tipped back head, the look of desire directed at Dan. I find I don’t like it—not one bit—or the jealousy that rises unexpectedly. So much for showing Dan what a fool he’d been, what he’d miss after I’d fucked someone else, leaving one final time. But it’s not as though I’d absolutely considered Luke an active participant in my scheme. I look down at him; sandy hair, built, and sort of rugged looking. But no, I hadn’t been set on screwing him.

  But I also hadn’t planned on him wanting Dan.

  Dan wasn’t into him, was he? He had to be playing with me. Why, then, did his gaze then fall to the man on his knees?

  ‘What do you think I should do to him?’ he asks dispassionately. When I don’t answer, he directs the question at Luke. ‘What do you think I should do to you?’ His voice is now slow and sensual, causing my insides to twist.

  Licking his parched lips, Luke’s mouth moves wordlessly.

  ‘Should I go easy on you?’ Dan tilts his head. ‘Or not?’ He pulls Luke’s again making him exhale a soft moan. ‘Perhaps I’ll meet you halfway,’ Dan continues. ‘Perhaps, whatever I decide, I’ll allow you to choose the hand of its delivery. Who would you choose?’

  Luke doesn’t answer. He looks a little confused.

  ‘Come now, no one’s judging here. You have been here before?’ Luke agrees, nodding as well as anyone is able in his position. ‘And you’ve played with men in the past?’

  ‘A little,’ Luke whispers hoarsely.

  ‘Then perhaps it’s still early days?’ Dan suggests in an encouraging tone. ‘I imagine the men you’ve been involved with have been part of a group. Always including a woman?’ Luke agrees, but Dan isn’t done. ‘Some soft swinging, paired with a little light dominance? And over time, you’ve come to realise you’d like to explore . . . more?’

  Luke’s answer is more a look than an action of confirmation.

  A please don’t make me answer.

  Please just do it—decide for me.

  Please just do it already—use me.

  ‘Darling, take my glass.’ I reach for it instinctively, pulling my hand away a beat too late. ‘A forfeit for you, too, it seems,’ he says, his smile taking on a feral edge. ‘Then it’s decided; we’ll start with you both sucking my cock.’

  In a moment of naked anger, I hurl the glass at the wall of mirrors.

  ‘You’re a sadistic bastard.’ My voice quavers, my hands balled into fists by my thighs. I try to control my breathing, try to control my tears—tears of anger and shame—because how can I suddenly see that very thing happening? See it like I want it. Like I need it to happen.

  ‘That’s true,’ Dan agrees without feeling. ‘But if you don’t like it, you can always leave.’ He inhales, pausing for a moment before adding more earnestly, ‘No one’s forcing you to stay.’

  ‘No,’ I growl from between gritted teeth. ‘I’m not leaving.’ Not for anything; he’s not winning this one. I will punish him.

  His response is a one of derision, but I still don’t believe he’ll go through with it. Until he begins to loosen his mask.

  ‘Kiss me,’ he demands, but not of me, his fingers making light work of the buttons on his shirt. ‘Don’t you want to kiss me, Mr. Smith? Kiss my cock? The rules don’t matter anymore; I win.’

  He pulls Luke closer with one hand, the other reaching out to pull me closer. To pull me down to my knees.

  ‘Let’s begin, shall we?’ Shirt open, he relaxes once more into the chair, but I can see the tension in his fingers. The tightness in his jaw.

  His eyes roll closed as Luke begins to work his zipper. It’s just as well my assistance isn’t required in the task as my hands shake.

  Dan’s expression is dark and tight as he’s freed from the confines of his pants. His cock stands proud between us, and I’m struck by how oddly erotic it is watching Luke reach out tentatively to touch. His masculine hand against Dan’s satin shaft. Luke’s head suddenly falls forward greedily, the sight of his sandy head working Dan leaves me wallowing in a pleasurable sort of agony. My perceptions are distorted and muddied—I feel turned on yet needy and confused. But I’m almost surplus to requirements; a third wheel, and more possibly a training wheel, as I hold back, uncertain of my role. Unsure of my place here.

  DAN

  Under Luke’s attentions, my thighs and stomach tighten and flex. This isn’t the first time I’ve been sucked off by a man, but this was the first time not orchestrated by Belle. For Belle. I swallow, wondering how I’ll rationalise it this time. Would I tell myself this was Louise’s punishment? My revenge? I’d swore to myself long ago I’d never fuck on the members’ floor again, yet here I am, beginning that descent again.

  Fuck. I can’t think clearly, my thoughts hazy and abstract. I’m certain this isn’t Luke’s first time at giving head. I have no interest in the man—no interest in any man. He’s just an instrument to bring Louise back to me. I hope. On instinct, I bring Louise’s hand to my mouth, kissing her fingertips before guiding them down my ribs as Luke sucks down particularly hard.

  I pull her closer, kissing her mouth, simultaneously taking her hand and pressing it to the base of my shaft. She’s pliant, not hostile, and I need her touch. A moment later, the dual sensations of soft mouth and sharp nails causes me
to buck and hiss. Unsure if the action was malicious, or likely to get worse, I’m struck by a sudden thought.

  ‘Tie her hands.’ My voice is hoarse, holding a desperate note.

  Luke doesn’t move, continuing to inhale the bulk of my cock down his throat. In truth, he looks a little dazed as I help him, somewhat forcibly. Dragging the necktie from the depths of my pocket, I almost simultaneously pull Louise onto my lap. Drawing her back against my chest, I hold out her docile wrists for Luke to tie. Once suitably secured, I lift her arms over my head, spreading her legs shamelessly over my thighs.

  Luke’s gaze zeros in on her bare pussy. Why would it not? The man is clearly bi, and my darling Louise is exquisitely hot.

  ‘You’d like to service us both now, wouldn’t you, Mr. Smith?’

  ‘Fuck, yeah,’ he answers, his voice thick. He dips his head but then freezes from moving another inch.

  ‘We’re not playing now,’ I retort, pulling Louise higher against my chest and sliding her slit along the length of my dick. The feel of her hot, wet heat almost drives me to the brink of insanity. ‘At least, not in that way.’

  Tension coils in Louise’s thighs before Luke even moves, uneasy in her position as she watches where Luke’s gaze lies. The unholy union. The place where cunt and cock meet.

  Is she turned on? Absolutely, but how else she’s feeling I can’t fathom. Front, centre, and in view of an audience of strange masks, had she imagined these scenes? Saw herself at the centre of things? Small snippets of conversations come back to me, and I wonder if she’d been leaving clues for me all along. Her fantasies of being tied and used were obvious, but this? Will she hate me afterwards . . . or will she love it?

  She jerks as the point of Luke’s tongue caresses her exposed slit, my fingers gripping her thighs hard enough to bruise. My mouth and teeth work over her neck and shoulder, our joint attentions rendering her short of breath.

  ‘Let go,’ I rasp in her ear. ‘Let go of all the things you’re thinking. All the things you think you should feel. Look around you, darling, look at the people waiting for you, waiting to see you collapse at the finish line.’

  Her eyes open languidly, her gaze seeking the sea of masks. ‘No,’ she whispers tremulously, jolting against me, shuddering against cock and tongue. Doesn’t she know that in this type of club, no is often used as an encouragement?

  ‘This is what you want, even if you’re afraid to say the words, to articulate. The walls you’ve built around yourself; they’re crowding you, hiding you from yourself.’ I know instinctively I’m reading her clearly now; seeing what I’d perhaps chosen to ignore.

  ‘I don’t,’ she whimpers, writhing against me again. ‘I don’t want this,’ she adds breathlessly. The actions of her body contradicts her lips as she thrusts her breast into my hand, widening her legs and moaning so beautifully.

  ‘Tell me then, darling,’ I plead. ‘Tell me what you want, and it’s yours.’

  ‘I just want you, Dan. And I want you to fuck me.’

  Hers is a desire that makes the rest of the world fade away. Unsure quite how it had happened, I find myself behind her as she kneels on the chair. Her trussed hands grip the chairs back, her fingers pale. Fine wisps of her hair lift as my harsh breath brushes the back of her beautifully bowed neck.

  In this moment, I agree with the Japanese, never before realising how erotic the nape of a neck could be. God, how I long to consume her. Use her, make her beg well past the point that she should. Make her beg me to stop.

  I hold my body still, unsure in my control, almost not daring to even rest my hands on her hips. Until I do, pulling her back against me as I thrust into her hot, wet heat.

  Louise’s body bows on impact as if she’s been twisted inside. The muscles in her back are coiled tight as my hands slide along her body, finding a resting place curled around her shoulders. With a roll of my hips, she bows with the impact again, the room around us dropping away. We aren’t surrounded by mirrors and people all clamouring to see and be seen. We don’t notice Luke on the floor, rubbing himself frantically. The world around us narrows to the scent and presence of the other. And nothing else.

  I twist one hand in her hair, bringing her head up to view our joined reflections. Her expression of languid surrender transcending any mask or disguise.

  ‘There you are, my beautiful darling.’ Despite her wanton expression, our joint reflection is fairly tame. She’s still covered by her blouse, mostly, and my shirt still clings to my shoulders, the back of the chair hiding her lower nakedness. ‘And there you are.’ I twist her head to the side as we watch my cock, wet and glistening, sliding inside her body once more. I close my eyes against the heady sight, muttering a hard fuck as I grapple for control, hiding the room’s multiple versions of us, our joining from a dozen perspectives, all of them fuck hot.

  The pleasure is all consuming, the only thing anchoring me to reality is my hand in her hair as, with a vengeance, I bring myself between her legs like a blow. My thrusts are unyielding, the jut of my hips vicious. Her pussy is mine, and I’ll leave my mark on it tonight. I know she feels it, my ownership of her body and heart, her cries echoing with the kind of pleasure only pain can provide.

  I unravel my fingers from her hair, reaching for her hips again as my heart pounds in time with her internal pulse. With one more shift of my hips, my body is pure electricity, the hot pulse of my climax barrelling through me like a comet. Beneath me, Louise cries out, her heat pulsing around me as, deconstructed and dismantled, we both finally come undone.

  Epilogue

  LOUISE

  I stretch, relishing the whisper of cotton against my naked skin. Sundays are the days I’ve come to love the most these past few months; Sundays following family Saturdays. Sometimes, Saturday evenings spent playing at the club. Naked weekends or weekends spent lunching, loving, and just hanging out with Dan and Hal. If I had to pick, I couldn’t say which I prefer.

  But, God, I love him, every dark, pale inch of him. Those indigo eyes.

  As though sensing the weight of my gaze, dark, pale and dangerous stirs slowly from sleep. I’m not sure what to expect after last night—a night at the club. Sometimes, Dan seems hell-bent on punishing himself rather than me, yet other times, he wakes ready to torture me some more. So, as he stirs, I attempt to prepare for any awkwardness. Sometimes things that feel natural in the darkness sometimes bring discomfort into the light of day.

  I take a deep, centring breath as I remember his arms pulling me to him during the silence of the night. Sleepy kisses, bodies connecting, his fingers woven with mine.

  ‘Good morning,’ Dan murmurs, his warm hand coming to rest on the curve of my hip.

  ‘Hey.’ I smile, thinking that the pillow creases his face wears make him look a little lived in. Not that I’d say so. Heaven forfend I tell him he’s old!

  ‘What time is it?’ Jaw clenched, he arches his back through a languorous stretch. As he turns his head to me, his smile is breathtaking. He’s all mine these days.

  ‘I didn’t think to wake you,’ I reply. ‘It’s past eight.’ He isn’t responsible for collecting Hal today, is he? Hal had spent the night at a sleepover with one of his little friends.

  ‘Not to worry,’ Dan answers with a yawn, morning wood making its presence known as he rolls towards me. ‘Charles is collecting Hal this morning. I thought we’d drink coffee and read the papers in bed.’

  I like Charles. I can afford to. It wasn’t my wife he was fucking, though it’s hard to imagine he’s the type. Affable and polite, Charles is probably just weak willed where Belle is strong. Strong and malice filled. Anyway, it seems as though my threats had hit a sore point. She no longer appears at the house, limiting herself to speak to Dan via phone. And to my relief, Charles had told me he and Belle are getting married next year. Dan is less inclined to believe it’ll happen. But Belle is through torturing him. Or else.

  Last week, I also began completion of my visa paperwork. I don’t want to ove
rstay my work visa, and Dan has begun talking about our longer-term plans. Engagement, marriage, the whole shebang. He’s coming to Thanksgiving with me next month. Mom is looking forward to meeting him. My dad not so much. A Catholic, divorced, single dad is pretty low down on his list of desirable couplings. Good job I’m a little too old to be sent to “camp” these days.

  ‘An entire morning in bed,’ I say happily. ‘How heavenly. And perfect after last night.’

  His responding smile is sleepy, sinful, and sexy, all rolled into one. Totally panty dropping, or it would be, were I wearing any.

  ‘It’s those reading glasses.’ His voice is rough and sandpapery as his fingers reach out to touch my hip. ‘I love having you in my bed wearing nothing but your spectacles.’

  ‘Pervert.’ It’s not an insult. It’s also true.

  ‘And I can’t seem to help myself when you come straight from the office, all straight-laced and gorgeous.’

  ‘You can’t seem to help yourself, period.’

  ‘Come on, you love it when I play the boss who defiles his secretary.’

  I snort. I love our role playing, even if it sometimes tweaks my feminist sensibilities. ‘How can you be so perfectly well behaved with your staff, yet with me you’re a knuckle-dragging Neanderthal?’

  ‘Darling, what can I say? You bring out the beast in me. Not to mention, you just look so gorgeous crawling on your knees.’

  My stomach takes the opportunity to point out its emptiness. Loudly.

  ‘Hungry, love?’ Dan chuckles.

  ‘Well, yeah. Sunday means croissants. To enjoy the day fully, there has to be the correct calorie intake.’ The café nearby has the perfect almond confections. Sometimes I even get to eat one while it’s still warm before Dan rolls over me, crushing me and it into the bed. Though I do like how he follows the path of pastry crumbs. With his tongue.

  ‘I believe it’s your turn this week,’ he says.