Kinky Boots (Mischief Books)

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Kinky Boots (Mischief Books) Page 13

by Grace, KD


  She lifted the new champagne flute in a toast. ‘I celebrate that every day, Finn. Cheers.’ They both drank.

  For a long moment they sat next to each other in silence, but it was strangely comfortable silence considering all that had passed between them.

  ‘How’s Eleanor?’ Jill finally asked, when she’d got the courage.

  ‘I’m fine, Jill.’ Hearing Eleanor’s voice from Finn’s lips was a little disconcerting, but it was Eleanor nonetheless. She knew it was. ‘I miss you.’

  Jill blinked hard, and the room seemed suddenly misty. ‘I miss you too.’ The words weren’t as strong as she’d intended. They wavered at the back of her throat before they found their way out.

  In an act that could have been either brave or stupid, Finn reached out and laid his hand over hers. ‘I miss you too, Jill.’ His fingers tightened. ‘Every second of every day, I miss you.’

  Jill bit her lip and swallowed back more emotion than she was ready to give up just yet. But almost as though they had a mind of their own, her fingers curled around his. ‘I had to know,’ she said. ‘I had to know that I could survive without her, that my life didn’t depend on her. Or you.’

  ‘I know that.’ Finn said. ‘I understand that. I always understood that.’ He squeezed her fingers until she feared he’d break them, and yet she held on. ‘But letting you go, giving you the space you needed, was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. The hardest thing either of us has ever done.’

  She nodded, afraid to speak, not wanting to blubber in such a public place.

  Before she could respond, he continued. ‘You have to know that giving you space didn’t mean I was letting you go, not really letting you go. It never meant that. I have every intention of elbowing my way back into your life. I’ve just been waiting for the right moment.’

  Her insides leapt at his words, almost as though Eleanor were there inside her again, excited, happy, anticipating. She gave a little laugh. ‘Now that you know I’m not going to die.’

  He took both of her hands and pulled her off the stool to her feet. ‘I would have never let you die, Jill. Surely you know that.’ Before she could reply he kissed her. It was quick and awkward and yet she felt Eleanor’s excitement mixed with her own, mixed with the dance of nervous hope they all three felt just below the surface in the space that wasn’t exactly flesh, the space that was just the right size for a demon.

  When he pulled away, she looked down at the mauve boots she wore almost every day. ‘I still haven’t paid for these, you know.’

  He followed her gaze. ‘The accumulation of interest alone is staggering.’ The corner of his mouth twitched with a repressed smile.

  ‘I always try to pay my debts,’ she said.

  ‘It’s a big one, and long overdue.’ This time he pulled her to stand between his legs where even in the fading light she could see he was hard. They weren’t alone in the kiss he pulled her into. It was long and lingering and Eleanor was once again installed comfortably in the space between, the space that still joined them, still felt like it could be filled by no one else but them.

  He pulled away breathless. ‘Let’s get out of here. I want to be alone with you.’ He held her gaze. ‘Just the three of us.’

  This time they made the walk back to Kinky Boots with no groping. This time they walked hand in hand in a space that was filled with tightly controlled anticipation. Jill felt Eleanor’s presence as surely as if she once again resided in that mysterious place at her centre, and yet she felt her equally wrapped around Finn, more closely than his own skin.

  Once they were inside his flat, inside his room, he unzipped her dress. It was slate blue with mauve pinstripes, sleek and sexy, fitted to the curves of her, curves he ran his hands down over before grabbing the hem of the dress and tugging it off over her uplifted arms.

  He caught his breath at the sight of her, silver-grey suspenders grasping the tops of sheer stockings, a bra of matching lace barely covering the jut of her anxious nipples. ‘It wasn’t you,’ she said to Eleanor. ‘It wasn’t you making me anything I wasn’t already. It was just you giving me the courage to trust myself.’

  ‘It’s taken you long enough to figure that out,’ Finn said. She could tell Eleanor echoed his sentiments. ‘All you had to do was ask us. We would have told you.’

  When Finn reached to undo her bra, she stopped his hands. ‘Tie me up,’ she whispered. She brushed a kiss across his stubbled jaw and guided his hands to her breasts. ‘I want you to tie me up.’

  He led her to the bed, eyes locked on hers as though he were waiting for her to change her mind. When she didn’t, he laid her down on the mattress and straddled her so that, where she rested her head on the pillows, the bulge inside his jeans was tantalisingly close to her hungry mouth. With a move that was nothing less than sleight-of-hand, he unhooked her bra and slid it away, dropping a warm kiss on each nipple as he did so. That done, he raised a finger to his lips silencing her. ‘Don’t speak,’ he said. ‘Just feel. Just let it happen.’ Then he rose once again above her, crossed her hands at the wrist, bound them with her bra and secured them to the brass headboard as high as her arms would stretch.

  When he was certain the knot was secure, he lingered to kiss her, and she swallowed his breath, wild, excited, chaotic breath that tasted of him, tasted of lust, tasted of Eleanor. When he pulled away, he rose, still straddling her, unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off, revealing the naked rise and fall of his chest, the hard plane of his belly sloping to his navel and to the low ride of his jeans; revealing the long solid muscles of his biceps, the blue-green pathways of the veins running along his forearms beneath smooth skin. And she wanted him like she’d never wanted anything.

  Holding her gaze, he lowered a kiss onto her navel. Then he made quick work of her knickers, shimmying them down over her bottom and off, leaving her sex bare and begging, peeking from beneath the lace of the suspenders. As she shifted to get his hand closer to where she needed it, he placed a flat palm against her pubic bone and pressed her back onto the mattress, pausing for a single torturous rake of his thumb against her swelling clit. And she whimpered. But he gave her a warning glance and a finger raised to his lips.

  Once she had calmed, once she lay still again, he released a stocking from its suspender and rolled it down over her thigh, down over her calf, down over her ankle, kissing and nibbling as he went. Only the fact that her hands were tied and that he secured the leg he wasn’t undressing between his own legs kept her from writhing and squirming with the delight of it, with the nasty pleasure of knowing that each time he bent to kiss her leg, he could easily glance up to admire the view between her legs, slick with the want of him.

  Once the stocking was removed, he tied her ankle securely to the brass of the footboard. Then he repeated the act, securing her other leg so that she was splayed open as wide as the footboard would allow.

  She was certain he had stretched her out so that she couldn’t move, and yet, when he slid out of his jeans and returned to the bed, his erection leading the way, she could see that he had given her just enough moving space for what he had in mind. Then, with one last sleight-of-hand, he removed the suspenders and dropped them to the side of the bed.

  She braced herself for his mounting, but instead, he knelt between her legs, one hand resting on his penis, the other moving over her body, caressing her belly, her breasts, the ticklish undersides of her arms. Then he wriggled two fingers up between her the swell of her, into the slick slip and slide of her tight sex, and she gripped them hungrily. His eyelids fluttered at the feel of her, and his breath caught.

  ‘You’re bound to me, Jill, bound to Eleanor and me, and I want it that way. I’ve wanted it that way from the beginning.’ He gave a little push with his fingers and she whimpered and jerked involuntarily against her bonds.

  Then he leaned low between her legs, holding her open with two fingers, and kissed her opening, mouth wide. His tongue probed and sank deep, his bottom teeth raked as though
he would swallow her whole, until his mouth converged and contracted with a tight hard nip and suckle around the erection of her clit. And she convulsed and writhed against his face, grinding her bottom into the mattress, then shifting upwards to get closer.

  Breathing like a windstorm, he rose, his face glistening from her, and pushed and manoeuvred until his penis was up tight against her. Then, catching his breath, he spoke. ‘You should know that I’m as bound to you as you are to me, that there’s no part of me, no part of us, that isn’t yours to control, and it’s been that way from the beginning.’ Then he thrust in hard, and the cry from her throat was raw and desperate and needy in her frustrated efforts to get closer to him.

  ‘Hold still,’ he gasped. ‘This is mine to give. All mine this time.’

  His control was torturous as he pushed all the way in, then pulled all the way back out, leaving her raw and empty, then pushed all the way back in again.

  ‘Shall I unbind you?’ His voice was tight, controlled.

  She shook her head wildly. ‘No. Don’t ever unbind me, Finn. Ever.’

  She was sure his eyes were misted with emotion as he took her mouth in a kiss that tasted of her. ‘Then we’ll come together,’ he said. ‘All bound together, like we were meant to be.’

  She nodded and whimpered, and thrashed against him.

  He rose on his knees, cupped her bottom and manoeuvred until he was deep in her pussy, and when he could go no deeper he thrust. He thrust relentlessly. She took him into herself, gripping and grasping and growling, and Eleanor was there in that place in between. She could almost see the knots being tied, she could almost feel the bonding. Right over left and under and through. Left over right and under and through.

  They were both too far gone to do anything but hold tight and thrust. His erection seemed to have drilled a hole to her very centre, and she felt as though she could take him into her, take him whole, body and soul. And as they roared their way into orgasm, Eleanor wrapped herself around them, and they all rode the wave of pleasure together.

  * * *

  Later, when they were lying in each other’s arms and Eleanor was curled around both of them, filling all the space in between, Jill asked: ‘Eleanor, can she come back to me?’

  Finn pulled her still closer and kissed the top of her head. ‘If you want her to. But only if you want.’

  ‘I do,’ she whispered. ‘She belongs in me. It won’t be right otherwise. She belongs in me so we can both love you, together.’ She blushed as she said it, and yet it felt right.

  Finn’s response was a bone-crushing bear hug that made her yelp and laugh. ‘I can think of nothing I’d rather be than loved by both of you,’ he said. And Eleanor’s delight shimmered and danced in little ripples around them.

  ‘Will we have to do a ritual?’

  ‘Just the ritual we did the first time, the one in Kinky Boots.’ He pulled her on top of him and settled her onto his penis, already hard again. ‘All we have to do is lust wildly after each other, and act accordingly.’ He was already moving and shifting beneath her, and she was gripping and grinding.

  ‘I think I can manage that,’ she said, already anticipating the orgasm that was never far away when she was with Finn and Eleanor.

  And that was all it took, just a little lust, a little bumping and grinding, and Eleanor was in. In like Finn.

  More from Mischief

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  Discover more about Red Grow the Roses

  Red Grow the Roses – Janine Ashbless

  A Mischief Novel

  There are six vampires in the city. Ageless, terrifyingly beautiful and always hungry – not just for blood but for the other pleasures the human body offers. Sadistic chanteuse Estelle; feckless Ben; Roisin, the mirror-ghost; Wakefield, haunted by his own damnation; Naylor, the most feral of them all. And Reynauld is the Good Shepherd, the one who holds them all in check. But his grip on his own humanity is fading, and when Wakefield accidentally kills a woman and Naylor gets the blame, a power-struggle erupts between the city’s immortal undead.

  Copyright

  This novella is entirely a work of fiction.

  The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Mischief

  An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers

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  Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

  www.mischiefbooks.com

  Copyright © K D Grace 2013

  K D Grace asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Ebook Edition © 2013 ISBN: 9780007492206

  Version 1

  FIRST EDITION

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