“You’d like to?”
“Only if you’re interested. It was just a thought,” she said, feeling self-conscious. She hid it behind a smile, hoping he didn’t clue in that she was nervous about it. She’d never considered bondage play before, mostly for lack of opportunity, but at the bachelorette party, talking in the limo with Maddy . . .
They sat side by side on the leather bench, outer thigh pressed to outer thigh, a discarded bottle of Dom Pérignon rolling around on the floor by their feet. Dora was talking to Lorelai, both women sloppy drunk thanks to a shared twelve-pack of beer. Rain and Patrice were chattering in the back as they plowed their way through a gourmet box of Turkish Delight Maddy’d imported from Greece.
“How do I even use these?” Theresa asked, pulling the handcuffs from her gift bag and jingle-jangling them before her face. Her champagne-soaked brain appreciated the way the silver glinted in the French Quarter’s flashing neon lights, which she was only privy to because they’d lowered all the windows to enjoy the night.
“Oh, let me count the ways, dove!” Maddy put her champagne flute aside and pulled the cuffs from Theresa’s grasp. She turned them over in her palm, her fingers stroking the curve of the metal lewdly. “A lover wearing these is in your thrall, their limitations putting them at your mercy—physically, emotionally. It’s the world’s sexiest trust exercise. If you’re interested in this sort of play, what you have to figure out first is what you find more enticing: being the controller or the controlled. And that preference can change! With circumstance, mood, people. I used to only play as a dom, but—hopefully I’m not about to TMI you—with Darren, I tend to switch. I top him sometimes, he tops me. Come to find out I like being under Darren and used as his fucktoy just as much as having all that gorgeousness under me, hungry for more . . . It’s powerful both ways.”
Theresa never would have pictured tall, beautiful Darren letting his girlfriend chain him up before she fucked him stupid, but the idea of it was not only intriguing, it was hot as hell.
Maddy could tell she thought so, too. She grinned all felinelike, head tilting to the side before she leaned in close to Theresa’s ear, breath hot on her lobe, as she whispered, “Alex would look so pretty wearing them. Sol mentioned you two have been keeping company.”
“Why not?” Alex said, bringing Theresa back to reality. “I’d prefer not to be tied to anything, but worst-case scenario, I’d ask you to uncuff me.” Alex pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder right as he pressed the cuffs back into her hand. His tongue flicked her pulse, and his hands reached around her body to cup her ass.
Theresa’s heart jumped inside her chest.
He said yes?
“If you don’t like anything, just say so and I’ll stop,” Theresa promised, voice thick. Alex nodded and kept nuzzling, so she started stripping him, pulling back far enough so she could tug his polo shirt off and throw it onto the floor. Her hand immediately slid over that hot, broad chest, her fingers finding his nipples and brushing them. He inhaled sharply. She liked that, so she wriggled away from him to kiss over his shoulder and down to his chest, laving it with her tongue. Every time she found his nipple he twitched, so she kept doing it, switching sides and enjoying the effect she had on him before she sank down fully onto her knees before him. She peered up at his beautiful body. He gazed down at her with a lazy half smile, which turned curious when she reached for his wrist.
“Are you ready?” she said, running the cool metal over the skin of his inner arm.
“As I’ll ever be.”
“I’ll be gentle,” she promised, opening the cuff and closing it around his wrist. He had big bones so she kept the cuffs as loose as possible, on the largest setting, so she wouldn’t hurt him; he wasn’t getting away, but he wasn’t pinched too tight inside the metal, either. She gathered his hands in front of his stomach before shackling his second wrist to the first. When he was properly tethered, she pulled on the chain, forcing his arms to stretch taut from his body. He watched her, a flush creeping over his cheeks and down his neck. He breathed heavily enough that she could hear him. His pulse jumped at the base of his throat.
She glanced down. He was at least semierect.
He likes it.
She licked her lips as she peered up at him, fingers adroitly sliding his belt free from its loops. He never broke eye contact, not even when her palm settled on the crotch of his pants. She rubbed him, gently but insistently, and he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He rocked forward just a bit, humping her hand, but she shook her head with a grin.
“Not yet, you don’t. Just stand there and look pretty for me,” she said, pulling her hand away. He blinked, surprised, but then his face cracked a broad smile.
“Whatever you say,” he said, lifting his chained wrists to emphasize the point.
Damned right whatever I say.
She wasted little time pulling down both his pants and his boxers, her attention lingering on his already swollen cock. He was a big boy more in girth than in length, though he was more than adequate to suit her needs either way. Her fingers closed around him, nestling at his base and pulling down, to his tip. He gasped, so she did it again, his pleasure mounting as she stroked him. His lashes fluttered to his cheeks like he’d close his eyes, but she hissed at him to look at her.
“And keep watching me,” she said, bold. The bite in her voice, the command, surprised her, but it worked for her, too. He obeyed, eagerly even, and his direct eye contact made her feel heady. Powerful. She felt a twinge in her pussy and she clamped her legs together, her hand continuing to pump his shaft while she held his gaze.
In her palm, his cock throbbed.
I need more of him.
“On the bed,” she said, voice strong again. She waited for him to sit on the foot of the bed before pointing at the pillows. “Up there.” It was awkward at first for him to clamber up there bound as he was, but he managed it, rolling onto his back and awaiting instruction. The flush had spread over his skin, from his head and neck and down to his chest.
Looking at him, appreciating him naked and on display, the silver glinting at his wrists, her mouth went dry.
He’s gorgeous.
And he’s mine to play with.
She moved to the foot of the mattress, fingers reaching out to stroke the arch of his foot. He erupted with a harsh bark of laughter, so she did it again with the same result.
“What do you want?” she demanded, her hands gliding to his ankles and rubbing along his thick, furred legs. “What would you like? From me? If you could have anything?” She crawled over him, her body astride his legs, her hands finding and massaging his muscular thighs. “What would make you hot?”
She swore his cock jumped at the question, and it lit a fire in her belly.
He’s enjoying this as much as I am.
“To taste you,” he confessed.
“Which part of me?” She advanced and settled down on top of him, this time positioning square above his hot cock. It pressed beneath her, nestled against her pussy and aiming back toward her ass. She reached for his cuffed hands and pulled them toward her, letting him splay his fingers against her warm belly.
“Any part.”
She grinned. “Any part?”
He nodded and groaned as she arched down at him, rubbing her body against his erection and humping him with little jerks of her hips. His fingers pressed more desperately into her stomach, his eyes squeezed shut.
“Look at me,” she instructed, and he did, but he was clearly struggling to maintain it.
“Yes,” he said. “Theresa . . .”
“You’re all right?”
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yes.”
“Then hush, love. Trust me.”
She stretched out on top of him, his hands pinned beneath her as she offered him a kiss. Her fingers grabbed his hair, h
olding his head hostage in much the same way he’d done to her before. He couldn’t move, but he didn’t want to, either, his lips nestling to hers, his mouth opening. Her tongue darted out, capturing his and gliding over it. A game of cat and mouse ensued, him taking control of the kiss and her wrestling it back. Between her legs, she could feel his hands straining against the cuffs. His fingers stretched, reaching for any part of her they could find, which just so happened to be her sensitive thighs. Each brush of his fingers on her skin sent pleasure rippling down her spine. She moaned into his mouth before breaking the kiss almost violently, her head swimming with desire.
“You want to taste me,” she asked, leaning down to nip his lip.
“Yes. Oh yes.”
That big man was hungry for her. Every part of him advertised that need, from the creases in his brow to the glimmer of sweat at his hairline to his rock-hard cock. She reached for the pillows beneath his head and tossed them to the floor. She climbed off him to face her body away from his, remounting to hover over him. It wasn’t a graceful maneuver, not really, but sitting on someone’s face rarely was. Getting positioned was far less important than what you did when you got there, though, and she ended on her hands and knees, knees to either side of his ears, hands flat to the mattress to either side of his hips.
She arched down at his face. His tongue immediately snaked up to steal his first taste. Inside the cuffs, his hands were clenched in such tight fists, his knuckles were stark white against his peach skin.
She carefully lowered herself, presenting her pussy to him for worship, her knees widening just enough her lips would stay open for him. She’d never heard of anyone gobbling cunt before, but that’s what Alex did, diving into her, pressing his face to her wet flesh and feasting. He sucked her lips. He sucked her clit. His tongue lapped at her hood and then swept down to her hole to delve inside. He tongue-fucked her, and the noises he made while he did—the groaning desperation he muffled into her twat—punctuated by the lewd sucks as he ate her made her burn.
It was amazing. It was dirty. She rocked down at his face, gasping, her temperature skyrocketing. Alex was as uninhibited and as eager for her as she was for him. Their moans were a sordid duet she could have listened to forever.
The tip of his cock glinted with pre-cum, his slit drooling with anticipation. She stared at it, whimpering as his tongue abandoned her hole to hard focus on her clit, sweeping around the blood-swollen nub with the same maddening circles he’d deployed with Murphy the night before. She stretched forward, keeping her weight on her elbows and knees as she bent her head to take his cock into her mouth. Alex gasped, pausing for only a second in his ministrations, before going right back at her.
Her first taste of him was heady; Alex was salty and sweet and tangy, and she closed her eyes as she took inch after inch of him into her mouth, feeling his cock gliding over the curve of her tongue. She’d taken in almost half of him, his cock head poking at the top of her throat before she had to pull back. He whimpered beneath her—such a big, beautiful man whimpering for me—and she pushed her head down again, lips stretching around him.
She developed a rhythm. It was a fast, wet one, spit pooling at the corners of her mouth and dribbling down her chin to drip onto him below. She’d suck him as far as she could without gagging, hold him encased in her hot throat for a full second, and then she’d pull up only to repeat it again and again. It was a loud affair, her suction and the displacement of air resulting in squishing slurpy sounds, but that only added to the heat.
Him beneath her, at her mercy.
Her grinding her cunt against his face.
The frequency and intensity of his groans told her he was close. She was, too, for that matter, because Alex was a man on a mission, and that mission was to make her come. She worked him faster to keep pace, harder, her eyes opening to gaze down his body. His toes were curled, his heels frantically running over the bed because he couldn’t keep still. Beneath her, he squirmed, his bound hands wedged between her breasts, the cold metal kissing her skin with his movements.
He’s fighting the restraints. He’s that desperate to touch me.
It only made it hotter.
So did his fiercely whispered, “Oh fuck.”
She pulled back, not because she didn’t want to swallow his cum, but because she wanted to watch him come. Her hand closed around the shaft with the veins standing out against the skin. She pumped him with her hand, jerking him hard, until he peaked. He cried out with the first blast, white spunk arching from his cock head to splash down over the back of her hand. The ensuing spurts sent more of him cascading over her in hot rivers that soiled her fingers and rained over her wrist to drip, drip, drip onto him and the mattress below.
It was so spectacularly filthy that she whined and leaned forward, taking his cock back into her mouth and swallowing the last of his pulses. He was panting beneath her, frantic, but as soon as he caught his breath, he was back at her pussy, more determined than ever to mouth-fuck her to completion. The taste of him polluting her mouth, feeling his spunk cooling on her skin, made it easy. Twenty seconds, or maybe thirty, of Alex furiously licking her clit and she was there, joining him, her body quivering as he sucked the orgasm straight out of her. She screamed and collapsed forward, her face buried in his thigh as the world she knew splintered apart, spectacular and beautiful and utterly pornographic because of Alex Fucking DuMont.
TWENTY-FIVE
OUT OF THE bath, into bed, then into the shower. Theresa was doubly clean, with Alex oh-so-helpfully scrubbing her down mostly because he enjoyed running his hands over all her marvelous curves. She liked it, too, cooing and offering kisses. They didn’t have another go, as tired as they were, but they did fall into bed for a long cuddle followed by a longer nap.
They were up and at ’em at half past five, Alex putting on a white-collared shirt, an ice-blue floral tie Theresa insisted “brought out his eyes,” and a charcoal pair of slacks. He polished his shoes while Theresa put on her makeup, which was an involved process that included gluing fake eyelashes onto her already long natural ones.
“They’re blondish. Hard to see,” she offered in explanation.
He smiled. “They’re your lashes. Do what you want to them. I think you’re beautiful either way.”
When she was done, she looked like a porcelain doll with her creamy skin and perfectly painted peachy gold lips. Before she donned her strapless green cocktail dress, she put on black lingerie that made her look like she glowed: a strapless bra, a tiny pair of panties, pantyhose. He got to appreciate it for a whole two minutes before she dressed herself and slid into some low-heeled black shoes. From there it was camera-collecting time. She switched out her lenses and packed her supplies in a vinyl over-the-shoulder bag he offered to carry, but she politely declined, winking at him as they left his suite.
“You broke one. A second and I’d have to kill you.”
“Touché,” he said, leading her downstairs.
Sol and Rain had escaped to Irene’s with Sol’s mother, Nash, and the Barrington brothers. That left Theresa and Alex in the Porsche, again, but Alex didn’t complain about it, because what was the point? It ran, it got them to Royale, and he was only somewhat achy by the time the valet took his keys and drove off in the little red shitbox.
No, you’re not complaining at all.
Count your blessings, Alex.
Irene’s restaurant was tucked inside of a rustic brick building with dark green shutters flanking its floor-to-ceiling windows. The front room had a series of bistro tables with uncomfortable-looking wrought-iron chairs and leather cushions. The art deco lighting barely got it more than “tomb dark” inside, but Alex kept his complaints to himself. He just mentally judged them for wasting the space’s potential. With original construction brick walls and wide-board dark wood flooring, they could have done so much more with what they had.
And y
et.
I bet this place won’t be here in a year. New restaurants always learn the hard way.
The hostess led them through the cramped dining room to a much nicer function room in the back, which could—and did—comfortably seat about thirty. Rain and Sol sat in the middle of the long rectangular table, the families and out-of-town guests split up according to allegiance. The Barrington crew was on the left, the DuMont crew on the right. Ne’er the twain shall meet.
“Alex!” Sol stood up from his seat, revealing his white suit with the mint green vest and coordinating tie. He motioned at the empty chair beside him. “The best seat for my best man. Cylan tried to sit there and I told him to fuck off.” Three seats down, Cylan rolled his eyes.
Alex cast Theresa a regretful look before leaving her side. She didn’t immediately go to her side of the table, though, instead pulling out her camera and snapping shots of the gathered families. Alex desperately tried not to watch her, not to let his eyes follow her through the room, but it was almost impossible.
So much so that Sol put his hand under Alex’s elbow and leaned in to whisper to him.
“If you want, I can move over so she can sit with you.”
“Hmm? Oh. No, no. It’s fine. Thank you,” Alex said.
“How are you two getting on?”
Sol eyed him over the rim of his wineglass. Alex sighed.
Confiding in you usually ends up biting me in the ass.
“Fine,” Alex said tightly. “Really, it’s nothing.”
Another lie. My soul is going to wither at the edges at this rate.
“Oh, it looks like everything,” Sol said. “I know that look. It’s about time, old man.”
Alex frowned. “Honestly, Sol, it’s nothing. We’re not getting married or—it’s nothing.”
Sol reached for his napkin and spread it across his lap, not lifting his head when he said, “If it’s enough for my holier-than-thou brother to dare go against the wishes of the Mother Church, it’s something, Alex. She’s the grandest lady on Royale Street right now, Rain aside, and I say that with Maddy not four seats away from me. Don’t be stupid.”
The Lady of Royale Street Page 19
