Under Contract

by Jeffe Kennedy

  It made her smile, despite her irritation at his didactic ways, all he put under the umbrella of “logistics.” While it would be more comfortable to change at home, there would be the risk of running into the girls if they got in early or having one of the neighbors notice the car picking her up. Better to keep it all as separate as possible.

  As for the safeword...it gave her a little shiver to contemplate. She hadn’t thought about using it the day before—had been frankly too swept up. Not much that she’d chosen for the evening should stray into dicey territory that she might feel the need to bail on. But, despite the level of detail on the specifics, there would be quite a bit of room for Ryan to tease and toy with her as he seemed to like to do. The contract part had made that clear. He wouldn’t ask her to do anything she hadn’t opted into, but within that, he’d have quite a bit of control. She either had to do as he said or safeword out.

  They’d be at a public party and she hadn’t opted in for actual sexual contact or nudity for it, but she’d allowed kissing, touching of exposed skin and what he’d called “discreet restraint.” Dipping her toe in with that last. She might not be a top negotiator, but she suspected he’d factored in any number of loopholes and would happily take advantage of them.

  Those she might need to get out of. She messaged back that she’d be at his house at four.

  Finishing her latte, she went to run errands and pay some bills, telling herself the tremors in her gut were nerves, not excitement.

  Just in it for the money.

  When she arrived at Ryan’s, the tremors had gone to full-blown jitters. The gates swung open and, for a moment, those gothic romance book covers flashed in her mind. Always with the woman running away from the house. And here she was, going in. The surreal sense of foreboding increased when the older woman who’d brought the shoes met her at the door. With a stern face, she assessed Tina and gave her a nod.

  “Ms. Sala. I’m Mrs. Matthews. I’ll show you to your suite and be available to assist you with anything you might need. The corset, in particular, may require another set of hands to lace up.”

  The corset? Good God. She took a deep breath. Then another, just in case she didn’t get to breathe for the rest of the evening.

  She followed the woman upstairs to a guest suite with a large attached dressing room, walk-in closet and bathroom, like a suite at the Four Seasons she’d stayed at for a swank conference, back when she worked in a lucrative field. An outfit lay on the bed, all in shades of crimson and scarlet, silk and lace. She didn’t look too closely yet.

  “Mr. Black says you’re to regard these rooms as yours. Make yourself at home. There’s a shower through there, if you care to rinse off. The driver will be ready to take you in forty minutes.”

  “Thank you, I think I will.”

  “Press the intercom button, should you need me.”

  The woman, who Tina really tried not to think of as the psycho housekeeper from Rebecca, left and pulled the door closed behind her. She went in to run the shower. On an elaborate vanity table, an array of expensive cosmetics awaited. The very brands and shades Larry had used on her. Clearly in cahoots there. A crystal glass and a bottle of Pinord cava sat nearby. Nice touch. The closed jewelry box must contain her other accessories.

  She hung her clothes on the hangers thoughtfully provided and rinsed off, using the one shower gel in evidence, which smelled rich and floral, like a tropical night. After toweling off and using lotion from the vanity, perfumed with the same scent, she put on a filmy robe draped over the back of the chair. Then poured herself a glass of wine, did her makeup the Larry way and opened the jewelry box.

  Not so bad. A gorgeous gold torque necklace and matching bracelets. The nipple clamps didn’t look like much—more like thin gold circles—but then she’d picked “mild” for a reason. No telling what that would be like. She slipped on the torque and the bracelets, the metal cool against her skin. Beautifully formed, they fit her closely. No doubt why she’d had to enter all of her measurements into the program. And no wonder he’d been up so late arranging for these things. The torque was heavy and rigid enough to sit in a tight curve against the base of her neck, then draped over her collarbone, coming to a pair of asymmetrical points.

  Opening her robe, she bared her breasts and slipped the circles over her nipples. With a slight spring action, they tightened just enough not to come off easily, not enough to really pinch. They made her much more aware of her breasts, however, and made her nipples taut. Hopefully they wouldn’t drive her crazy, though that was probably what Ryan hoped for.

  Time to finish the outfit. She went into the bedroom and surveyed the items, which seemed to be laid out in order of assembly. Panties first—red and scandalously tiny—then the corset, which hooked in front and pushed up her breasts while barely covering them. Or would, if it fit right. Much as she didn’t want to, she called Mrs. Matthews on the intercom and slipped the robe on for whatever modesty it might provide.

  She answered the discreet knock and the woman came in, no nonsense. “Those laces are always difficult, aren’t they?” she commented. “Drop your robe, turn around and hold the bedpost, please.”

  She did, though not in that order, turning her back first so the woman wouldn’t see the nipple clamps. Feeling both exposed and a bit like Scarlett O’Hara preparing for an erotic barbeque, she gripped the upright post. With almost brusque efficiency, the woman adjusted the corset’s position, then systematically adjusted the laces. The corset cups tightened over her breasts, making her even more aware of the gold circles on her nipples, and gradually the boned fabric sealed over her rib cage.

  “There you go, Ms. Sala.”

  “I think it’s too tight.”

  “It has to be that way or it will fall off. Anything else?”

  “No—I think I can get the rest.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll expect you downstairs in ten minutes.”

  Tina glared balefully at the door Mrs. Matthews closed behind her. “Yes, General Matthews,” she muttered. Moving quickly, though, she smoothed on the silk stockings and attached them to the corset garters. Then came the dress of a deep crimson with classic lines. The strapless top made of a heavy brocade fitted smoothly over the corset, clearly made to go together. It dipped slightly between her breasts, came to graceful points over them and clung to just below her hips, where the smooth silk skirt flared out into a full circle. A short jacket with a high collar went over that, closing narrowly over her waist with two gold buttons.

  Finally, she pulled on the heels—the same ones she’d worn for him the day before. Very high, arched confections of red and gold. She might have to use a safeword if Ryan expected her to stand around in those for long. Taking one last swallow of wine, she refreshed her lipstick, put the tube and her phone in the little gold clutch that matched the outfit, and went downstairs.

  Feeling a little breathless to find out what would happen next.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ryan checked the time, his anticipation spiking when he saw that Celestina should arrive soon. Leaving his office, he said goodbye for the day and took the elevator down. He arrived at street level exactly as his car pulled up. Waving Ernesto off, he let himself in to find Celestina, fragrant as a Mediterranean night, smiling at him hesitantly.

  Absolutely gorgeous.

  He brushed her cheek with his lips, more to inhale her scent and savor a brief taste of her satin skin than to kiss her. As she always seemed to, she stiffened a little. Both boldly assertive in some arenas and timid in others, she never quite responded how he thought she might.

  “You look lovely,” he told her, taking her in as the car pulled into traffic. “The dress fits perfectly.” It fit her like the proverbial glove, in fact, with the lines of the bodice enhanced by the corset she wore beneath. It lifted her amazing breasts and shaped them, showing off h
er neat waist below. The torque necklace—not quite a collar but evocative enough to rattle his brain with fantasies of her in actual chains—gleamed against her skin, the curves a perfect echo of her bosom and winged collarbones.

  “It should.” She shifted her gaze away and smoothed the skirt. “All those measurements you wanted. I had to dig out my grandmother’s tape measure from her old sewing kit.”

  “For me, at least, the effort was well worth it. And the nipple rings—do they fit well also?”

  She flushed, fingers twitching as if she resisted touching her breasts, and glanced at the window separating them from the driver.

  “Ernesto can’t hear us.” Had she thought he wouldn’t ask about the clamps? She might not have agreed to let him see—yet—but the knowledge she wore them for him seared his imagination. Her nipples were beautifully dark, like her mouth, and would be distended now from even that light pressure. In the tight corset, they had to be throbbing. “Tell me how they feel.”

  She gave him an oblique look. “I don’t recall opting into that.”

  “No?” He opened the bottle of red wine waiting and offered her a glass. “It’s not against the rules either. In fact there are no rules against me asking anything I’d like to know, but there is a rule that you have to do what I say, within the parameters of the scenario, unless you use your safeword.”

  Sighing out a short, aggravated breath, she sipped the wine. “I just knew there would be loopholes.”

  He laughed and indulged in trailing a finger over the upper curve of her breast revealed by the parting of the jacket lapels, the sharp lines perfectly setting off her ripe cleavage. She started under the caress, and her scarlet-painted lips parted, eyes flying to his, as if she wanted to ask a question. Really he hadn’t expected her to agree to intimate touching yet, even if she’d granted over the clothes or what her outfit exposed. That said, he planned to take ruthless advantage of even the tiniest liberty she granted. Her breasts rose and fell in a tremor of response, revealing her quickening arousal.

  “You should know something, Celestina.” He bent over and pressed a kiss to the spot he’d just touched, licking her lightly, the satiny skin sweet under his tongue. Her breath hitched and she suppressed a sound, a quiet, closed-lipped moan. He smiled against her skin, tempted to nip, just a little, but not wanting to leave a mark on her just yet. The idiots at this particular party didn’t merit such a sight. “I have a tremendous fondness for loopholes. Now, tell me how the nipple rings feel.”

  She stared at her wineglass and he caressed the spot he’d kissed, moistened now and the more sensitive for it. “They, ah, feel tight. Distracting.” Her voice had gone throaty.

  “Do they hurt?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “More detail please.”

  She shifted, uncomfortable. “They’re just sensitive and when I move, the fabric...”

  “Yes?”

  “Kind of chafes them.” She glanced at him, dark eyes full of some new vulnerability, so he pressed a light kiss to her mouth, gratified when she softened and warmed to it. “You’ll get lipstick on you,” she said when he pulled back.

  “Very much worth it. Take off your jacket, please.” He took her wineglass from her to free up her hands, but she didn’t move.

  “I know I did not opt in for nudity tonight.”

  “You’re fully clothed under the jacket, yes?”

  She muttered something about loopholes, undid the buttons and set the jacket aside. Ignoring her questioning look, he took out the length of gold chain he’d put in his jacket pocket, and clipped it over the thin bracelet she wore, watching her expression.

  Seeming shocked, she stared at it. “What’s this for?”

  “Discreet restraint,” he reminded her. “Turn your back.”

  Steadying herself with a hand that shook slightly on the seat, she pivoted away from him, showing him her lovely bare shoulders and the nape of her neck so exquisitely exposed by the new haircut. Threading the chain up through the torque, he looped it once, then ran his hand down her arm and clipped the end to the other bracelet. It made a stirring sight, the graceful drape of the chains from the collar down to her wrists. She breathed unevenly. Clearly rocked by this but also aroused, as he’d hoped she would be. He pressed another kiss to her shoulder and she shivered.

  “You can put your jacket back on,” he murmured and, since it wouldn’t show there, nipped her shoulder so she jumped and arched her back, taking in a long breath. She reminded him of those tea roses that slowly unfurl in hot water, going from closed and brittle to ravishingly lovely. He’d make things even hotter for her and they’d find out just how she’d bloom. It surprised him that she hadn’t opted in for any sexual satisfaction. She had to be wanting it, judging by how he’d left her the day before. Intriguing, really, that she held out on that, which gave him food for thought. And only made him want to tease her even more, to find her breaking point.

  Frowning a little, she eased the long sleeves up her arms again, her expression shifting with her realization that the chains would be hidden underneath the stiff material. He helped her adjust the high collar of the jacket and enjoyed the rise and fall of her cleavage as she fastened the buttons. Then she cocked her head, accepting the wine he handed her again.

  “What’s the point? They don’t actually restrain me.”

  “But you feel them there.”

  “True.”

  “And I know they’re there.” He picked up her hand and slid his finger along the velvety texture of her inner wrist until he found the bracelet, then hooked his finger in the chain just enough to tug on it. She pressed her lips together, perhaps holding back another of those sensual moans. “It’s symbolic. You’re wearing chains I put on you. When I look at you tonight, I’ll be savoring that thought—and that you’ll be aware I’m picturing you like that, remembering how you trembled when I locked them on you, how you went hot and soft under my hands and mouth. You’ll feel a catch now and again, the slide of metal on your skin, and you’ll think of how you let me put my chains on you. When that happens, I’ll be watching.”

  She stared at him, rapt, desire and trepidation giving her a seductive fragility, one that made his hands crave more. So tempting to strip her of the jacket and fasten her hands together with the chains, wrap his fist in them to hold her still and helpless while he filled his mouth with her.

  “What are you thinking?” she whispered.

  “Dark things.” He tugged the chain, watching her register the pull of it, then leaned in to kiss her under the point of her jaw, gratified that she yielded, dropping her head back. “Does that frighten you?”

  “Some.” She breathed unevenly. “I’m thinking it doesn’t frighten me as much as it should.”

  “There’s nothing real to fear. It’s all part of the trip.”

  Her confined waist formed a perfect arc, one he couldn’t help following up to the lush swell of her breast. The brocade jacket and heavy boning of her corset prevented him from feeling the thrust of her nipple or the metal trapping it, but he squeezed and her ragged moan, the shudder of her pulse under his lips, told him she felt it just fine.

  “Are you ready?”

  She stilled and he smiled against her skin. Not what she thought at all, but he loved where her mind had obviously gone.

  “To go inside,” he clarified. “We’re here.”

  * * *

  Tina nearly asked where, but her mind cleared in time to prevent her from making a complete idiot of herself. Ryan with his sex tricks had a way of shattering her grip on reality and weaving a spell around her that took her into another world entirely. An intimidating universe where she became somehow infinitely vulnerable—answering his intrusive questions, giving herself over to his hands and mouth in a way she never recalled doing with a man. Responding with wild arousal t
o the smallest gesture.

  For the first time she wondered if she’d entirely miscalculated the real danger here. Not losing herself to sin and immorality, to the illicit lure of his kinky games, but surrendering something far more precious.

  Ryan adjusted her sleeve, making sure the chain remained discreetly tucked inside, then opened the car door and held out a hand to help her out. Scooting across the leather seat, she experienced anew the grip of the corset and the light but relentless pinch of the rings on her nipples—all the more extreme with the way her breasts had swollen in response to his extraordinary words and teasing caresses. Even the slide of the garters on her thighs had become more titillating, and she’d gone wet enough that she wanted to check the back of her skirt to make sure she hadn’t soaked through.

  When she subtly reached to run a hand over her bottom, however, under the guise of adjusting the fall of the dress, her hand caught, the chain snagging on the torque collar and reminding her of its presence. Though the symbolic attaching of the chains had gotten to her exactly as he’d described, she hadn’t quite processed that they would restrict her movements in small ways. Ryan, missing nothing, sharp gray eyes on her exactly as he’d promised, smiled ever so slightly.

  You’ll think of how you let me put my chains on you. When that happens, I’ll be watching.

  He smoothed his hand over her bottom and brushed her cheek with one of his gentlemanly kisses that weren’t that at all, but rather an excuse to murmur darkly suggestive things to her. “That’s why you should always lift your skirt and sit bare-bottomed. Just imagine if you hadn’t been wearing panties. When you agree to let me take them away from you that will be something to keep in mind. Shall we?” He offered his arm as if he hadn’t completely rattled her, and escorted her into the busy bar.

  The reception took place in a private room, people in cocktail attire having quiet conversations, holding drinks in sparkling glasses. A gazelle-like blonde, her hair swept up into a flawless chignon, Hollywood-thin body encased in a black sheath, swanned up to them with a smooth smile.