by Eden Bradley
Jillian stared at the dildo in the picture. It was lifelike in style and done in great detail. Wonderfully done, though this was not what she needed to cool her blood. But she couldn’t stop looking.
She forced herself to turn the page. The next painting was of a man with a long, lean body like Cam’s. He leaned against a roughly textured stucco wall, his head back, his eyes closed, while he stroked his erection with his hand. Wrapped around his wrist was a small piece of barbed wire. Jillian realized she was getting wet just looking at it.
She’d seen some of these paintings in person at the artist’s studio. They hadn’t had this effect on her then. But her response now was entirely different. What had changed?
It wasn’t the paintings. It was her. Her experience with Cam had awakened her body, her sex drive. Not just awakened it, but blasted it wide open. Now it was a force to be reckoned with, and something she wanted to explore.
She moved on to the next one. A woman again, this time bound to a tree with what looked to be vines. They wrapped sinuously around her arms and legs, with one piece sliding between her thighs.
Jillian squeezed her own thighs together beneath her desk. Her sex had begun to throb with need. She got up and went to lock the door of her office.
The ring of her phone startled her, making her blush as though the caller could see her, knew what she was thinking, feeling. She took a deep breath before she picked it up.
“F. D. Leighton Gallery. Jillian Ross.”
“Hey, honey. How’s your day going?” Cam’s deep voice was sexy enough to make her heat up all over again.
“It’s fine…um, it’s going fine.”
“You okay? You sound a little out of breath. Sorry if I caught you in the middle of something.”
You have no idea. “No, just reviewing some pictures.”
“What kind of pictures?” Cam asked, making her wonder if he really could see through the phone somehow.
“Uh…” She bit her lip. “They’re just…well, they’re pretty hot, actually.”
“Tell me about them.”
“Cam, I don’t think—”
“That wasn’t a request, Jillian.”
“Oh.” She was taken a bit by surprise, but his commanding tone had gone straight to her already heated sex.
“You’re alone?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Lock your office door.”
“I, uh, I already have.”
“Good girl. Are you sitting down?”
That now-familiar shiver ran through her. “Yes.”
“Hike your skirt up and spread your thighs. Then tell me what you see.”
She slid her skirt up around her waist and eased her thighs open. She could hardly catch her breath. “It’s a painting, beautifully done. Very realistic, but sort of soft all over.” She paused to lick her lips. “It’s a large piece of a nude couple entangled. Very sensuous, pretty even. But the man is scratching the woman’s back with a thorny rose. Long, pink grooves are on her buttocks and the back of her thighs.”
“Does it make you hot, Jillian?” His tone was low and smoky.
She could barely get the word out. “Yes.”
“Good. Look at it. And touch yourself for me, just a little.”
Jillian glanced at her office door, then slipped her hand between her legs. Pushing her panties aside, she drew her fingers across her damp slit and shivered.
“I can hear your breathing change. I can hear how turned on you are. Do you know what that does to me? I’m getting hard just listening to you breathe.”
God, the sound of his voice! It was making her crazy. That and the way he was in total command, even now over the phone. And the pictures were making it even hotter.
“What’s next?” Cam asked.
She turned the page. This one was even better. She pressed her whole hand against her mound. “It’s a woman bent over a bench of some sort. She’s naked except for a collar of twining twigs and leaves around her neck. There’s a naked man behind her.” She had to pause to take a breath. She couldn’t believe how it made her feel to talk about it. Her hand was still pressed to her sex, putting pressure on her pounding clit.
“The man is…holding his cock in one hand while he sweeps a flogger over her ass.”
“I’m holding my cock, too,” Cam murmured. “Holding it and stroking it. I’m imagining it’s your hot little mouth on me. I’m so hard. I want to touch you, to fuck you. I want you to move your hand for me. Massage your clit the way I know you like it.”
Jillian pressed into her mound, grinding against the throbbing heat. The image Cam had created was almost too much for her. Cam with his big, beautiful cock in his hand. Moving his tightened fist up and down the length of his shaft. The head of his cock would be big and flushed with blood, fully engorged. Her mouth watered and her body flamed with desire. She focused on the swollen cock in the picture, on the sight of the flogger against the woman’s porcelain and innocent-looking skin.
“Tell me more,” Cam said.
“They’re both very beautiful. And the skin on her ass is red and welted.”
“Yours will be, too, someday. I want to flog you, baby. Would you like that?”
“Yes, Cam!”
“Keep looking. Imagine that it’s me with that flogger, with my cock in my hand.” His voice was rough with lust. “And I want you to spread for me, honey. Spread your legs and put your fingers inside yourself. Do it.”
She leaned back in her chair and spread her legs, then moved her hand down to press two fingers into her wet folds, still rubbing her clit with the heel of her hand.
She was only marginally aware of her short, panting breaths as she worked herself. Her hand moved faster and faster, and her orgasm began to bear down on her like an approaching freight train.
“Come on, honey. Push them in deeper, faster. I want you to come. I can tell you’re close. And I’m so damn hard for you. I’m going to come soon. I want to fuck you, and I will, later. But now, come for me.”
“Jillian?” Her secretary Marie’s voice came loud and clear through the door, followed by several sharp raps.
“Oh, my God,” Jillian breathed into the phone. “Somebody’s at my door. It must be important to disturb me.” She was already pushing her skirt back down over her thighs.
“Damn.” Cam gave a short laugh.
“I know!” Her whole body was still buzzing.
“Jillian?” Marie again. “There’s a client here to see you. I tried to buzz you but you didn’t pick up.”
“Be right there!” She got out of her chair, smoothed her hair. “Sorry, Cam. I really have to go.”
“We’ll have to make it up to each other later. Meet me at Fiorello’s after work for dinner.” It was their favorite Italian restaurant, the best in Seattle. “I’ll meet you there at six-thirty. Be ready to celebrate.”
“Celebrate?”
“We have something to celebrate, don’t you think?”
Jillian smiled. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
They were getting their marriage back, if last night and today were any indication. And perhaps even more important, and crucial to the marriage, as well, she was getting herself back.
The restaurant was dimly lit, the glow of the candles burning on each small, round table accented by light sconces on the walls. The décor was classically Italian, with heavy red curtains draping the windows, the walls accented by Roman-style pillars. Everything was accented here and there in gold: the light sconces, the framed pictures on the walls, the large vases of flowers.
The scent of garlic and freshly baked bread was in the air. The food here was wonderful, but tonight Jillian wasn’t thinking about the food.
She found Cam already seated. He stood as soon as he saw her, ever the gentleman. He was handsome in his black slacks, crisp white shirt, and dark, narrow tie. When he leaned over to kiss her cheek, she caught the faint scent of good Scotch. It reminded her of the night before, and her limbs went warm and loose.
She drifted into the booth. Cam slid over to sit beside her.
“How was your day, baby?”
“It was good, actually. Not terribly productive, but good. How was yours?”
“The best I’ve had in a while.”
He smiled, his gray eyes sparkling in the candlelight, and she was sure she detected a wicked glint there. She was feeling pretty wicked herself. Her near-orgasm earlier had done nothing to quench the need thrumming through her body since last night. If anything, she wanted Cam even more, had been thinking about him all day, desperate for his touch.
They ordered their favorite pasta and a good bottle of Chianti. Jillian couldn’t wait to get home, already.
Their wine came first and while they sipped at it Cam covered her hand with his.
“We should talk about last night.”
“Yes, I suppose so.” She rubbed her fingers over the fine, dark hair on the back of his hand, traced the heavy band of white gold encircling his ring finger.
“Are you still okay with all of it?”
Was she? She didn’t want to spend too much time analyzing it. There was something nagging at the back of her mind. Something about the idea of yielding to another person, even her own husband. She’d always been strong, completely in command, whether at work or in her personal life. Well, until she’d lost the baby. Then she’d sort of crumbled. She’d been trying ever since to put herself back together again. And something about submitting to Cam, even in bed, spoke to her of the intrinsic weakness she’d felt lingering in her system for months.
But no, she didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want to think about the enormous burden of guilt she carried. Because last night had brought her and Cam miles closer than they’d been since before the miscarriage. And it had felt damn good.
“Yes, I’m okay with it. There’s still some mental stuff to process. Just give me some time with that. But the rest…yes, I think so.”
She looked into his beautiful gray eyes, saw the corners of his sexy mouth turn up, the lust etched on his face. She loved that she could do that to him. Maybe there was something of power for her in this situation, even with Cam calling the shots in bed.
“Come here.”
Cam pulled her closer to him in the leather booth, took her hand, and guided it to the zippered fly of his slacks. He had a huge erection.
“This is what you do to me, Jillian,” he whispered into her ear.
She squirmed in her seat, her sex coming alive. Yes, maybe she did have some power here.
“Spread your thighs for me,” Cam said in a low voice.
“What? Here?”
“Yes. Now.”
She was surprised that she simply did it, with no more argument. When his hand slipped beneath the hem of her skirt, under the band of her panties, and found her already slick folds, she tensed momentarily.
He told her quietly, “Nobody can see us under the tablecloth. Spread a little wider for me.”
She did as she was told. His fingertips teased at the edges of her sex, stroking the full, tender lips. Brushing across the tender, engorged nub there.
“Take a sip of your wine.”
She lifted her glass with a shaky hand and held it to her lips, swallowed. She almost choked on it when he slipped a finger inside her.
“Cam.”
“Yes?” He sounded amused.
“I can’t do this.”
“You can. And you will. For me.”
Yes. For him. Her hips moved of their own accord against his hand. As his thumb pressed onto her clit and began to rub in lazy circles, she thought, for me, too.
She still gripped her wineglass in her hand. The darkness around them made her feel hidden, yet at the same time she was marginally aware of the other diners around them, the waiters moving through the room laden with trays.
Oh, God, what if their dinner came now? What if she did?
Cam was rubbing her harder now. She glanced up and her eyes came to rest on a couple at another table. They were arguing. The woman was beautiful, dressed all in dark red. A long strand of pearls hung from her neck. Her face was flushed with emotion. Cam pushed another finger into her, and she squeezed around them. God, so close!
The man at the other table was handsome. Big, like Cam, but built more like a football player. Jillian would bet he had a big cock, like her husband’s. His eyes glittered in the candlelight, his expression intense. He had big hands, like Cam, like the hand that was playing with her so expertly beneath the table.
“Come for me, honey,” Cam whispered into her ear.
Her fingers squeezed the stem of the wineglass. The walls of her sex squeezed his fingers. And she came for him, into his hand, biting her lip hard. She closed her eyes as pleasure washed through her. Her breath came in sharp pants, which she tried to hide by burying her face in Cam’s neck. Her sex throbbed with heat and she tried hard not to squirm.
So good. Yes!
“Good girl.” Cam withdrew his fingers from her, tugged her skirt down. He was smiling. He calmly took a sip of his wine. “I want to fuck you right here on the table, Jillian.”
She almost groaned out loud. The waiter arrived with their salads. “How is your wine?” he asked.
Cam smiled at her, sexy and wicked. “How is it, Jillian?”
“It’s good. Very good.” Could the waiter hear how breathless she was?
“Excellent. Is there anything else you need right now?” the waiter asked.
“Do you need anything, Jillian?” The grin on Cam’s face was frankly amused.
“No.” She turned to the waiter. “Thank you.”
Dinner passed in a blur. All she knew was that Cam kept one hand possessively on her thigh, and she couldn’t wait to get home so he’d slip that hand between her thighs again. His hand, his mouth, his cock. She didn’t care. As long as he kept on touching her.
Was she becoming obsessed with sex, suddenly?
Doesn’t matter.
As long as she was with Cam, really with him now, nothing else mattered. The way he was making her feel was pretty mind-blowing. And she was safe with him. She could trust him. Maybe trusting herself would come later.
The house was dark when they got home. Jillian jumped out of her BMW, waited while Cam pulled his briefcase and portfolio case from the leather saddlebags on his big, pearl black Harley-Davidson. His job as an architect seemed to require that he carry an armload of work with him everywhere he went. Luckily, his prized motorcycle could accommodate not only Cam’s size, but all of his job-related accoutrements, as well.
Once inside, he set his things down and pulled her close. She could feel the heat of his big body radiating from him when he bent to kiss her lips.
“Go get ready for me, Jillian.”
Oh, she was ready. But she knew what he meant.
Upstairs, she stripped her clothes off, clipped her hair up, and stepped into the shower. The hot water felt good running over her skin. Since last night her body was alive, sensitive to every sensation. She had a feeling it was only going to get better.
She eyed the loofah sponge hanging from a hook, and imagined the rough surface of it running over her skin, her nipples. Her body gave an involuntary shudder. Everything was a potential new sensation, everything wore an aura of sensuality. She wanted to be touched in every way, to experience texture in all its endless variety. This adventure with her husband had awakened her in such an unexpected way, but she was open to it, wanted it.
But right now she wanted him. She turned the water off, not wanting to keep Cam waiting no matter how good the shower felt. No matter how enticing the needle-sharp spray of the showerhead, how interesting the idea of the loofah sponge, the bristles of the long-handled back brush. He would feel even better.
Dried and lotioned, she slid her silky robe over her shoulders and stepped out into the bedroom. Cam was there, his hair wet and a little spiky. He must have rinsed off in the bathroom down the hall. He wore a pair of black boxers and nothing
else. He had turned the lights off and lit the amber-scented candles again. And once more music played in the background, low and moody.
The candlelight glinted off the ripple of muscle across his shoulders, the tight six-pack of abs.
Cam came over to her, circled around until he stood behind her. His hands came up, briefly cupped her breasts beneath the silk of the robe. Her nipples sprang up hard immediately. He slid his hands over her shoulders and bent to kiss the back of her neck. His mouth was hot, sending shivers down her spine.
“Time to get naked.” He drew her robe down her arms and it fell to the floor.
Cam’s hands were back at her breasts again. He tweaked her nipples, making them harden even more. She held still, waiting to see what else he would do while her sex contracted in expectation. Her mind was emptying already as he led her to the bed. The ropes were still there from last night, tied to the corners of the bed frame.
“Lie facedown, Jillian.” There was that same commanding tone again, the one that made her wet with need.
She obeyed.
He tucked a pillow under her hips, so that her ass was raised into the air. She felt extra naked, somehow. Exposed. Vulnerable. But she liked the feeling.
Cam was fastening the ropes. First one wrist, then her ankles, then the other hand, just like last night. But this time she couldn’t see what was going on. It was a little unnerving.
The first thing she felt was his smooth palm sliding over her skin. Down her spine, her buttocks, her thighs. He just touched her like that for a while, until she was loose and relaxed. Then he began a gentle tapping on her buttocks. Just a small slapping with his fingertips. It didn’t really hurt, but almost. Yet it felt wonderful at the same time, if her dampening sex was any indication.
He began to slap a little harder, so that it stung a bit. The stinging seemed to go straight to her sex, making it fill and swell.
