She turned, studying him. “Are you fucking with me?”
“I will be, shortly.”
“Seriously. Because if you’re kidding, I will find some way to sue you.”
Jake uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands into his jean pockets. “Look, I know I’ve done badly keeping things clear with you, and I don’t want misunderstandings. An escort-client relationship might work better than anything else. It’s defined. It’s controlled.”
“It has rules,” she said.
“Exactly.” He opened the door and gestured inside. “Why don’t we talk them over, and then we can get started?”
How about that? I just won the argument. Go, Carla!
So why am I suddenly scared?
Jake showed Carla into the living room then disappeared to the kitchen. She lowered herself onto a cream-colored sofa and sized up the room she’d seen from the window just yesterday—hardwood floors, upscale furniture, modern, clean, uncluttered—of course yesterday, her focus had not been on the décor.
Carla glanced at the front window where Jake had been standing when she’d peeped inside, remembering his generous length, naked and aroused, his fingers circling, stroking…
“Here you go.”
She looked up at the bottle of beer clutched in his fist. His eyes seemed to glint when he smiled, and she couldn’t help feeling as if he’d sensed the direction of her thoughts. She took the bottle, raised it to her lips, and downed half of it.
“Now that you’ve gotten your way, you’re nervous?”
“I’m not backing out, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m not worried.” Jake sat close, their legs touching. “I want this to be good for you. And it will be. I have a money back guarantee.”
He smelled clean, like he’d just had a shower, a mix of soap and shampoo and male. She found herself leaning toward him, breathing him in. “So about these rules, I’m in control, right?”
“The client is always in control.”
“Isn’t that supposed to be the client is always right?”
“No. Always in control. Two different things.”
She wasn’t sure what to make of that, but since he hadn’t wanted to take her on in the first place, she decided it best not to ask. “So the other rules? Besides no neighbors, that is. You never orgasm with a client.”
“Right. In fact, you don’t touch my cock at all.”
She thought of the G-string. The way he’d strained the leather pouch. The way he’d pushed the garment down his legs. She’d never been enthralled by the sight of a man’s erection, but all that had changed when she’d seen Jake. “But I can look at it? If I promise not to touch?”
“I’ll be keeping my pants on for our session.”
“Fair enough.” Carla was a little disappointed. But sex totally focused on her and controlled by her? She could live with that. Even if it meant forgoing another glimpse of him. “What else?”
“You have to do your best to communicate with me. I’ll be asking you questions, guiding you, but if you like something I’m doing or don’t like it, you have to be willing to speak up.”
“I can do that.”
“At the same time, when we’re doing something kinky, some of the fun of it may come from you not wanting to do it. At least, at first. So we have to have informed consent. You may not be sure of what you want until you get it, so we need to figure out boundaries.”
“What we can and can’t do?”
“More like what we can do and what we won’t do. Have you ever done anything kinky?”
The kinkiest thing she’d ever done is give a guy a hand job while driving. Carla didn’t think that really qualified.
“I’m not a virgin. And I’m not a prude. I’m here to have fun, and… I guess, to learn.”
“All right. So what do you have in mind for the session?”
Carla stared at him. “Uh, I don’t have a clue. What do you usually do?”
“There’s no usually. Every woman has different tastes.”
“Has anyone asked for something too… weird?”
Jake laughed. “Why? Do you have something weird in mind?”
“Of course not. I don’t have anything in mind.”
That wasn’t entirely true. What Jake had done to Mrs. Gladstone held a certain appeal. Although Carla couldn’t quite figure out how to tell him she wanted him to eat at the Y, as Janet so delicately put it.
“Let’s start with setting then. Would you like to stay here? Go in the bedroom? Or try the dungeon of pleasure?”
At the third suggestion, Carla pressed her knees together. “Uh, I think I should start with something a little less extreme than the dungeon of pleasure.”
“Okay.”
Again the scene from two nights ago replayed in her mind. “Maybe the bedroom.”
“Maybe?”
“Yes, the bedroom.”
Jake stood, offering his hand.
Taking a fortifying breath, Carla put her palm in his and let him pull her to her feet. She felt downright fluttery. Half of her wanting to run away, the other half ready to rip off her own clothing.
Here goes nothing.
They walked into the bedroom, and when Carla spotted the bed Mrs. Gladstone had been bound to, a shiver started low in her belly. Just like the living room, she remembered very little about the furniture she’d seen through the window. But now, she recognized that the ornate wrought iron headboard and even taller bedposts were perfect for binding someone in a myriad of positions. The footboard was low, ending below the mattress, yet providing similar strong rails in just the right places for restraining ankles or wrists.
The possibilities were endless.
“You like the bed?” Jake asked.
“It’s pretty. And apparently functional.”
“It is that. And you’ll look fantastic tied to it with your legs wide open. I know that may sound a little risky, but that’s why it’s exciting.” His blue eyes raked over her body, as if her clothing wasn’t even there. He brushed her hair back from her face, running his fingers through the strands.
She was sure it now looked like a wild mess, but she fought the urge to smooth it.
Time to undress.
Now that the moment had arrived, she wasn’t sure if she was excited about Jake seeing her naked, or mortified. Although she was fit, her body was no longer twenty.
“You look worried again.”
It was silly. Carla was paying him for sex. She shouldn’t worry that her body wasn’t up to his standards. “I’m fine.”
“You’re imagining yourself on the bed?”
“Yes.”
“Like Mrs. Gladstone the other night?”
“Yes.”
“Naked and open to me?”
She shivered a little. “Yes.”
Jake was right about one thing. The risk was exciting, and she could feel herself getting wet. She began to unbutton her jacket.
Jake captured her hand before she had a chance to slip the first button free.
“Shouldn’t I get undressed?”
“Nope.”
“No?” As much as she’d dreaded him seeing her a second ago, she was now disappointed.
“I don’t think you trust me yet, Carla.”
“Trust you?”
“For this to work, you need to trust me.”
“I hope you don’t run your clients through some version of those team-building exercises.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Team building exercises?”
“You know, the close-your-eyes-and-fall-backward type? Trust others to catch you? They did that at the firm a few years ago, before I was partner, and it was one of the most ridiculous things I ever went through. My first act as a partner was to recommend abolishing the whole thing.”
“Did they?”
“What?”
“Abolish the whole thing?”
“Yes.”
“Well, falling backward and trusting
me to catch you is not what I have in mind.”
“Then what?”
He guided her hands from her jacket buttons down to her sides before releasing them. Then standing in front of her, just inches apart, he brought his own fingers to the unbuttoning task. He slipped the first button free, the second, then spread the fabric apart, exposing her blouse. “I’m going to undress you, Carla. Piece by piece. Stitch by stitch. Until you are totally naked, and I can see all of you.”
Another shiver, only this time, it was chased by heat. “Okay,” she said, voice breathy.
He gave her a grin, half-mischief, half-hunger, maybe all acting for all she knew, and then he slid the jacket off her arms. After tossing it on a curvy chase lounge, he turned his attention to her blouse. The buttons moved smoothly through the silk.
One.
Two.
Three.
Chills rose over her skin. She suppressed a giggle. Standing there, letting him unbutton her blouse, was more intimate than she’d imagined. It was as if with each button freed, he claimed what he’d uncovered. And even though Carla knew she could walk away at any moment and end this, she didn’t want to.
He finished all the buttons and brushed the two sides apart, revealing her low cut black bra.
Cool air caressed her skin. Her nipples hardened, pushing the lightly padded cups to peaks. She watched his hands, wanting him to expose her, to touch her, to take what he saw.
He skimmed his hands over her shoulders, sweeping the silk off her body, whispering down her arms, and then he tossed it aside with the jacket.
She pulled in a breath, her breasts rising and falling.
“Do you want me to take off your bra, Carla? Do you want me to see your bare breasts?”
“Yes.” Her voice half surprised her. Even more surprising was her impatience. Carla wanted to strip the rest off herself. This was taking too long. She wanted to be naked.
Jake’s eyes roamed over her for a moment, sending chills racing over her body wherever his gaze landed. When he finally touched her, it wasn’t to unhook her bra. Instead he skimmed his fingers down her naked belly and slipped them under the waistband of her trousers. “Are you wet, Carla?”
“Yes.”
“How wet?”
As a lawyer, words rarely failed her, but this time, she floundered. “Um, very.”
He skimmed his hand down the outside of her trousers, cupping her mound, scraping a fingertip over the wool fabric.
The vibration tickled and rasped, the sensation almost electric. She pressed forward, meeting the pressure, wanting more, harder.
“Do you like this, Carla?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to see how wet you are? Slip my finger inside and find out?”
Something quivered deep inside, and she rocked against his hand. “Oh, yes.”
When he pulled his hand away, she let out an involuntary whimper. But then he was unfastening the button at her waist, and inching the zipper down.
The wool blend slid easily over Carla’s hips and puddled on the hard wood. She wore a black thong to match the bra. Two small bits of fabric and Jake would see all of her. Her breathing quickened.
He slipped his fingers under one bra strap and eased it over her shoulder. “Your skin is so soft.” Leaning down, he brushed his lips where the strap used to be, then repeated the process on the other side.
Her breasts felt heavy, ripe, only the back band holding their weight. She wanted him to hurry, to free them. And yet, somewhere in the back of her mind, she also wanted the delicious anticipation to last forever.
He stepped back, watching her again, then slipped his shirt over his head.
She reached out for him, wanting to touch his skin, run her fingertips over his hard muscle, feel the rasp of his chest hair.
“No,” he said. “This is about you, Carla. I’m here for you.”
She nodded and let her arm fall to her side.
“Do you want me to take off your bra, Carla?” he asked. “Do you want me to see your breasts?”
“Yes.”
“Ask me.”
Carla’s mouth felt dry. “I want you to take off my bra.”
“Why?”
“I want to show you my bare breasts.”
He circled her with his arms, one on either side in a loose embrace. His fingers were sure, and with a quick flick, the bra strap released. He pulled the garment off her arms.
Cool air fanned her skin. Her nipples were hard already, but they peaked even more under his gaze.
“You have beautiful tits, Carla.”
The word was crude and took her by surprise. But instead of turning her off as crass language sometimes did coming from a man’s lips, this made her want to arch her back, to thrust out her chest, to make him touch her.
“Do you like that I call them tits?”
“Um, yes. I guess I do.”
Scooping from underneath, Jake took them in his hands, cupping their weight, flicking each nipple with his thumbs.
She let out a gasp.
“Do you like that?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Jake did it again. And again. Carla bit her lower lip, and then Jake skimmed his hands down to her thong. He stood close, the fly of his leather pants just inches away, bulging with his arousal.
Carla wanted to thrust her hips forward, to press herself against him, to take him between her legs. But his warnings about touching his cock hung in the back of her mind. If he threw her out, she didn’t know what she’d do. She needed to be naked in front of him now. Needed it as much as she needed the release.
Hooking the thong with his thumbs, he pushed it over her hips and down her thighs. Then once again, he stepped back, taking her in.
Cool air swirled around her, doing nothing to mitigate the heat. She felt self-conscious and sexy, scared and daring, all at the same time.
And wet. Very, very wet.
“Spread your thighs,” Jake said. “Let me see.”
She did, widening her stance.
“Use your fingers. Open yourself.”
Blushing, Carla hesitated. It seemed demeaning. Humiliating. And yet that made it all the more exciting for some reason. She reached her hands down, showing herself to Jake, watching his reaction.
He seemed hyper-focused, as if Carla had become his entire world. His gaze seemed to have weight, and as he caressed her with his eyes, Carla could almost feel it. She moaned low in her throat.
Stepping close to her side, he cradled her buns in his hands. Kneading them, he smiled down into her eyes then pulled her tight against his erection.
Carla’s nipples grazed Jake’s chest. Her body moved of its own will, opening up, pressing against him, rocking up then down. She had never been so turned on. Ever.
Pulling her tighter, Jake slipped a hand between her legs, probing from behind. His fingers parted her and slid between her folds, sinking deep. “You’re so wet, Carla. And you’re good at following orders. Such a good girl.”
Carla had always hated it when guys said things like that, as if she was a dog in need of praise. But right then, she didn’t care. In fact, she could swear it only made her hotter, wetter.
She rested her hands on either side of his rib cage, pulling him harder against her and stroking from waistband to chest.
Jake stiffened, then pulling his hand free, he turned away.
At first, Carla almost grabbed for him, then she let her arms fall to her sides. It was the same type of behavior she’d called him on earlier. He’d seemed totally into her, then abruptly pulled back. She hadn’t touched his cock. Could she have done something else wrong? Broken some other rule she didn’t know about? “What’s wrong?”
“Wrong?” He didn’t look at her, just crossed to the head of the bed and opened a drawer in the bedside table. Turning back to her, he held up his prize. The soft light glinted on metal. “You’re ready for the next step.”
Handcuffs. Two pairs.
S
he’d fantasized about being bound like Mrs. Gladstone, but now that it was about to happen, Carla felt a little dizzy.
“Have you ever been tied up, Carla?”
She opened her mouth, but no sound came.
He circled the bed, returning to her side. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll take it easy on you. At first.”
She was about to ask what that meant when he clapped a cuff to her right wrist, then fastened it high on the bedpost at the foot of the bed.
Carla pulled against the cuff, unable to break away. “But I thought I’d be lying on the bed like—”
He clapped a bracelet on the other wrist. Trailing his hand over her hip, and up her side like she’d done to him, he pushed her second hand up to the level of the first and fastened steel to steel.
Carla stretched up to the cuffs, back against bedpost, cold iron against hot skin. “Did I do something wrong? Break some kind of rule?”
“Of course not,” he said, running his fingers down her arm to her breasts. He cupped each mound, pinching the nipples hard this time. “There’s one thing you have to understand, Carla. You’re in control here. That’s how this works. You can surrender to me, and yet you’re still the one in control.”
She managed a nod. In control. In control.
“Do you trust me?”
Do I? I barely know him.
“I want to.”
“That’s a start.” He kneaded her breasts, pinching, flicking, until her nipples poked out more prominently than she’d thought possible.
Carla’s breathing slowed, the tightness dissipating.
He moved his hands down her sides to her waist, the sprinkling of hair on his chest teasing her distended nipples. His hardness pressed against her, flexing through his leather pants.
“I can do anything I want to you, now. And you can’t touch me. Do you like that, Carla?”
She shouldn’t. She was naked, strung up. She shouldn’t like it at all.
But it was exciting.
Dangerous.
This is what I wanted, isn’t it?
To take a risk. To be bold. To feel alive.
“Yes. I like it.”
Jake replaced his fingers with his mouth, circling one nipple with his tongue. His breath tickled the wetness, and Carla arched her back again, wanting more.
“So needy,” he said then sucked her nipple hard into his mouth.
Want It Bad: A Kinky Romance Page 8
