Gradually people started to make their way to their rooms, and the party began to wind down. Dan and Eve weren’t leaving for Rarotonga until the next morning, so they stayed until the end, saying goodbye to their guests. Faith went up a bit earlier, worn out and with aching legs, but Rusty stayed to make sure everything was in order and those guests who weren’t staying had successfully found themselves taxis.
Esther stood in the foyer and removed her shoes, flexing her aching feet as she waited for the others to say goodbye to Eve’s old grandparents. Her body ached a little and the alcohol was beginning to have an effect on her, but the thought of going to bed with Toby kept the adrenalin pumping.
He joined the others at the doorway, and she leaned her head on the doorpost and watched him fondly, wondering if Charlie would grow up to look like him. How often would she get to see him once he started university? Obviously only during the holidays, and he’d have to split those between time with her and the rest of his family up in the bay.
The group of them at the door finished saying goodbye to the guests and came into the foyer.
“Oh well, I guess that’s it,” Eve said sadly. “My special day’s finally over.”
“We still have breakfast with our guests tomorrow,” Dan reminded her as he put his arms around her. “And besides, the evening’s not over yet.” He whispered something in her ear and squeezed her butt, and she giggled.
The rest of them laughed. “Come on,” Rusty said, “let’s go up to our rooms. I want to check on Faith.”
Toby and Esther crowded into the elevator with the rest of them—Dan and Eve, Rusty, Carla and her partner, and a couple of others including Toby’s brother Felix, who’d turned up for the reception. Rusty pressed the button for the floor where they were all staying. Toby leaned against the wall and pulled Esther to him, her back to his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and she relaxed contentedly while the elevator ascended. If she didn’t think about it too much, she could almost imagine they were a married couple, and that she belonged here, with his friends.
It was a nice fantasy.
The elevator dinged and they spilled out into the corridor. Dan bent and lifted Eve into his arms, a pile of white lace and satin, and she squealed. “Dan!”
“I’m going to carry you over the threshold,” he explained. “Behave.”
Everyone else led the way to their suite, laughing, and Toby swiped their keycard and opened the door for them. Dan carried her in—just missing hitting her head on the post by an inch—and then he stopped and they both stared at the confetti-strewn duvet littered with pillows in the shape of love hearts, cuddly toys with “Happily Married Couple” embroidered on their clothing, and balloons tied to the end of the bed.
“Enjoy,” Toby said, smiling.
“Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.” Rusty winked as Dan smiled wryly, and he closed the door on them.
“Did you two do that?” Esther asked them.
“Some of it. We—” Toby stopped as, from behind the door, Eve gave a huge squeal and yelled “We’re married!” and they all burst out laughing.
“I’m off to find my wife,” Rusty said. “I miss her.”
“Yeah, you’ve been apart all of fifteen minutes.” Toby grinned and held out his hand. “I enjoyed today. Glad you were there.”
“Me too.” They shook hands. Esther swallowed, touched at how close they were.
Rusty waved to the others. “Good night.”
Carly took her partner’s hand and said goodnight too. Felix sighed. “Well, I guess I’m off to bed. Alone again, naturally. I thought there’d be a bridesmaid to cop off with, but no luck. They’re all taken.” He raised an eyebrow at Esther. “What are you up to? Need someone to scrub your back in the shower?”
Esther giggled as Toby glowered at him, and she patted Felix’s arm. “Don’t worry, there’s someone out there for you.”
“Yeah, some girl who’s escaped from a mental institution,” Toby grumbled.
Felix gave him the finger and walked off, muttering to himself. Toby laughed, grabbed Esther’s hand and pulled her toward their room.
“Poor Felix,” Esther said. “He’s a nice guy—he deserves a nice girl.”
“He’s very rarely short of company,” Toby said, swiping his keycard. “Don’t feel sorry for him. Besides which, he has a practiced right hand, don’t worry.”
“Toby!”
He chuckled and opened the door. “After you.”
She went into the room and he followed her. The door shut behind them with a soft snick.
Immediately, her heart began to hammer, but she kept her cool and tried not to act nervous. She placed her shoes by the bag she’d brought up earlier and turned on the soft lighting over the bed. Toby went over to the fridge and extracted a bottle of wine. He poured two glasses and brought them over to where she stood with hands folded in an attempt to stop them shaking.
She took the glass and sipped the cold Sauvignon, hoping the alcohol would help her to relax a little. The several glasses she’d had during the course of the evening didn’t seem to have affected her at all, and she could really do with some Dutch courage.
Toby stood before her, hand in his pocket, and took a swallow of his wine. He was so much taller than her when she took her shoes off. She looked up at him to see him surveying her. He’d hung his jacket over the chair, and her fingers itched to touch his silver waistcoat, then slide underneath and feel his muscles through the white shirt. His dark hair was ruffled, and his eyes had the sultry look of a man who’d drunk enough glasses of whisky to let the naughty side of him out.
“Stop smirking,” she said uncomfortably.
“I’m not smirking. I’m amused.”
“At what?”
“You. You look nervous.”
“I am nervous,” she said nervously. “You make me nervous.”
“Even after all we’ve done?”
“Maybe because of that.” She took another hasty swallow of wine and licked her lips, not missing the way his gaze fell to them. “And because you keep doing that.”
“What?”
“Looking at me like you’re lost in the desert and I’m an oasis.”
He chuckled, finished off his wine and placed his glass on the table. Then he bent to place his lips against her throat. “I can see your pulse racing.” He touched his tongue to her skin, and she shivered. “Mm,” he said. “Do that again.”
“I thought you were supposed to be interrogating me.”
“Oh, I will.” He kissed up to her jaw, then along to her lips. Sliding his right hand into her hair, he cupped her head. “But I’ve been waiting all night to kiss you properly.”
“Oh…” That was the last word she could utter, as then his lips were on hers and all thoughts fled her mind. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly to him, and kissed her. First his lips were gentle, placing light butterfly kisses on her lips and cheeks. She let him, trying not to sigh, enjoying the way he overwhelmed her with his masculinity, from the brush of bristles against her cheek, to the taste of whisky in his mouth, to the firmness of his muscles beneath her free hand where she pressed it to his chest.
And then, when he brushed his tongue across her lips, she opened them to welcome it inside. And it seemed to fire something up between them, causing his fingers to tighten on her butt and knot in her hair as he plunged his tongue into her mouth. They both groaned, and Esther couldn’t stop herself pushing up against the hard length that pressed on her stomach. She needed him inside her. There was no point in denying it. Whatever he wanted, she’d comply, like a remote-controlled toy to which he possessed the controls.
He lifted his head, eyes gleaming in the dull light. “God, you’re sexy,” he murmured, running his hands down her body. “All night I’ve thought about the fact that you’re not wearing any underwear beneath this. It’s been driving me crazy.”
“I’m glad,” she said, breathless. “Because the sight of you in that su
it has driven me nuts.”
He chuckled and pulled back. “So we’re even.” He cupped her cheek, and bent and kissed her lips lightly. “Maybe I should keep the suit.”
Bitterness made her clench her hand on his chest. What was the point when she was going away? She lowered her gaze to her fist and forced herself to relax, smoothing her palm against the silky waistcoat. She had to concentrate on tonight, nothing more.
“So,” she said lightly. “Where do we start?”
Chapter Forty-Three
Her heart increased its rate again as the heat level rose in Toby’s eyes.
“Hmm,” he said. He walked over to his bag and rummaged around, then withdrew an item and turned to show it to her. It was a weird hat, like an army officer’s peaked cap but made out of a shiny silver fabric. It looked like something Peter Cushing might have worn in Star Wars.
He pulled it on, raised an eyebrow and waited for her reaction.
She giggled. “Where did you get that?”
“Rusty got it from the drama department at his school.” He pulled the peak down a little. “Now, Miss Tyler, I understand you know the secret code to the rebel forces’ hidden base.” Clearly he’d also thought that the hat looked like something George Lucas might have designed. She had to bite her lip to stop the giggles.
Tossing back her hair, she gave him her best rebellious stare. “Yes, and we’re going to destroy the Empire’s Death Star. What are you going to do about it?”
Warmth spread through her as he smiled. Or was it the alcohol finally beginning to have an effect? No, it was definitely the look in his eyes.
He ran his gaze down her, lingering insolently on her breasts before returning to her face. She’d thought the hat looked funny at first, but oddly, as he continued to study her and a look of determination replaced his smile, she didn’t have much trouble imagining what he would have looked like as a real bad guy. Her amusement fled as she began to wonder how he was going to torture her.
She swallowed the remainder of her wine, and he took the glass and put it on the table next to his own. He moved away, leaving her standing there, put his hands behind his back and surveyed her silently.
She fidgeted, picking at her fingernails, uncertain what he wanted her to do.
“Stand still,” he said.
Her heart slammed against her ribs at his soft but authoritative tone. She dropped her hands, and he nodded with approval.
“I’m glad to see you’re going to be cooperative.” He walked slowly around her. “My superiors assure me you know the secret code. You are going to tell me that code.”
“I won’t tell you anything,” she said rebelliously.
He stopped walking and bent to whisper in her ear, “Oh, yes you will.”
Every single piece of her stood on end in heightened awareness of him. The Naughty Nights card had included an added instruction for the woman involved in this role-play. She had to think of a piece of information he didn’t know about her, and try to keep it from him as he tortured her. It hadn’t been difficult to come up with a secret. But she was determined not to tell him. Surely she could hold out against whatever he did to her?
He walked to his bag again and extracted something else—a silk scarf—then brought it over to her. “Temporarily,” he said, his eyes warm. He folded it into a narrow band and placed it around her eyes, tying it at the back of her head. “And so it begins,” he murmured in her ear.
“Toby…” She swallowed. Her mouth had gone dry. Her world was now dark, and all her other senses strained toward him.
“You can call me ‘sir’,” he instructed. His deep voice reverberated through her, while the scent of him—whisky, warm male and aftershave—filled her nostrils.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered.
Fingers brushed up her arms, arousing goose bumps on her skin. “Much as I adore this slinky dress,” he said, “it’s time to see that beautiful body of yours.” He moved behind her and unzipped the garment. “Raise your arms.”
She did so, aware of him grasping the hem. The cool material slid up her thighs, rustled over her hips and skated across her breasts as he lifted it over her head. It dropped to the floor in a sigh of satin, and her nipples tightened instinctively at the sensation of standing naked in front of him.
He walked around her, his feet almost silent on the carpet, and stopped. She waited, heart thumping. She wasn’t quite sure where he was, and automatically crossed her arms over her breasts.
“Now, now,” he said from just in front of her. “I told you to stand still. If you don’t cooperate, I will have to punish you.” He sounded amused.
She shivered and dropped her arms to her sides. He moved away and she heard him rummaging in his bag. There were various rustling noises, and at one point footsteps sounded behind her as he walked to the bed. She remained standing, vulnerable and exposed, but forced herself not to move. He was trying to unnerve her, and she was determined not to make it easy for him.
He came back to her, took her hand and, to her surprise, turned her in a circle a few times.
“Are we playing Blind Man’s Bluff?” she asked, puzzled.
He chuckled. “Just trying to disorient you.”
It worked—she had no idea which way she was facing. He led her forward a few steps, then turned her around again.
He was behind her now, and the bed squeaked as he sat.
“Move back,” he said. “Carefully.”
She did so until the mattress bumped against her legs.
“Sit,” he said. He placed his hands on her hips and guided her down.
She realised she was between his legs, and as she sat, her butt nestled between his thighs on the bed. The mattress met the back of her knees. He was still dressed—the buttons of his shirt touched her skin between her shoulder blades and his erection pressed against her through the fabric of his pants.
She felt slightly less vulnerable within the circle of his arms, however, safe and protected by his strong, broad frame. He placed a kiss on her shoulder. “You really are very beautiful,” he said, his voice husky.
“You’re going to have to work harder than that to get me to divulge information,” she replied, although inside she glowed at his compliment.
He chuckled. “I’m working on it.” He shifted, and then his arms came around her. Something slid beneath her right leg, soft and silky. Another scarf. What was he doing? His hands moved deftly, and the material tightened on her leg, although not uncomfortably. He did the same thing to her left leg, sliding a piece of material beneath it, tying it on the other side. The inside of his thighs pressed against the outside of hers, warm even through the material of his pants.
Next he took one of her wrists and looped yet another scarf around it, tying it securely. Her heart began to pound again. Now what?
“I hope you got a discount on all those scarves,” she said, nerves making her flippant.
He kissed her shoulder again, but didn’t answer her this time. He tied the other end of the scarf around her left wrist. She moved them—they were about eight inches apart.
“Lift your arms,” he said.
She raised them in front of her. He took her wrists and moved them up over her head and then over his hair until the scarf rested on the back of his neck. The position forced her to arch her back as she stretched out along him, and she gasped as he slid his arms around her waist and stroked up her ribcage. Her breasts lay exposed and open to his touch, and her nipples tightened again as he brushed around them with light fingers.
For a moment she thought she couldn’t have been more vulnerable. But she’d forgotten about the scarves tied around her thighs. Behind her, he opened his legs, and with shock she realised he’d tied their thighs together, so she had to widen her knees to follow him. She lay open to him, defenceless and stripped bare of her decency as well as her clothes.
“Toby!” Her breasts heaved, and she tried to calm her rapid breathing.
In answer, he ran h
is fingers up the inside of her thighs, stopping just before he reached her most sensitive parts. “What did I say you should call me?” he demanded.
“Sorry…sir.” She bit her lip. At least she was facing away from him. Yes, this was a little undignified and humiliating with everything on show, but there was something incredibly erotic about being in his control like this, too.
“Good.” He stroked up her sides, circled her breasts and continued to graze up her ribcage and under her arms. She squirmed against him, and he grunted when she pressed back against his erection. “Sit still.”
“I can’t. You’re tickling me.”
“I have to torture you. It’s in the rules. Mwahaha.”
She wriggled again as he stroked downward this time, his fingers so light on the sensitive skin of her upper arms that shivers ran all the way through her. “Ooh. Stop it.”
He brushed his palms more firmly back down to her waist. Then he brought his hands up to cup her breasts. “Is this better?”
She said nothing, automatically holding her breath. His hands were warm as he squeezed and lifted her breasts, weighing them in his palms. He ran his thumbs over her nipples, and she shuddered. Uh-oh.
“Uh-oh what?”
She hadn’t realised she’d said it out loud. “N-nothing.”
“Come now, Miss Tyler. You know you want to tell me your secret.” He flicked her nipples with his thumbs.
“I won’t,” she whispered. “You can’t make me talk.”
“We’ll see.”
He took her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and pulled them gently, stretching them until she gave a shocked “Oh!” and arched her back with a groan.
“What?” His voice was all innocence. “Sorry, Miss Tyler. Do you not like that?”
She was in serious trouble. He’d only just started and she was so turned on, she was close to telling him every secret she’d ever known in her entire life. How embarrassing—she had to last ten minutes at least, or she’d never hear the end of it.
Besides which, she didn’t want to tell him her secret. She’d have to make something up if she came close to giving in, because she couldn’t possibly divulge the piece of information she’d been thinking of.
Six Naughty Nights Page 27