Mystery Date

by Crystal Green

  This close...yet this far from her.

  “Is that you?” she asked. “Really you?”

  “You’d better hope so.” He waited. “Last time, you said you didn’t know how far we could take the watching, so—”

  “You’re changing it up.”

  A wavering laugh came from her, and she let go of his wrists even as she kept her hands nearby, still raised in the air, as if she didn’t know how else to react.

  “I didn’t think you’d do something like this,” she said. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll take off the blindfold and turn around to see you?”

  “No.” Because then this would all become too real for both of them. “This way we don’t owe each other anything. You go back to your life, I go back to mine, both of us remembering the single week we had with a fantasy.”

  She’d started to lower her hands all the way.

  He kept whispering. “Part of me can’t believe that you accepted this invitation. Then again, part of me knew that you would.”

  “Based on what I’ve seen so far, I would’ve been insane to refuse everything you have to offer.”

  God, her hair. He closed his eyes, taking in the scent, heady with it.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  “To do what?”

  “I’m not going to tell you, and that’s why you have to trust me.” All there would be in this so-called relationship was a tenuous thread—trust—joining their fantasies together. No emotion. Just two people who were happy with having each other’s bodies.

  Carla couldn’t have faulted him for that. But when it came to his heart and giving it away to someone else? Never.

  A few beats passed, stilted, as soft as a ticking watch pressed under a wad of cotton.

  “I trust you,” she said, lowering her hands all the way.

  Something in his chest seemed to flip-flop, but he shoved that aside. She’d just given him permission to go ahead, and that was all he’d been hoping for.

  He tied the blindfold at the back of her head. When he was done, he asked, “How does that feel?”

  “Fine.” He could tell she was off-balance by the way she took a tiny step to the side.

  Instinctively, he laid his hands on her shoulders, feeling warmth beneath her blouse. Skin. Her.

  His belly tumbled, his blood boiled.

  “You sound—” she seemed to search for words “—tall.”

  “You can tell by where my voice is coming from?”

  “Yes. Almost a head taller than I am.”

  His lips were only inches from her hair, and they itched to press against her. He wanted to breathe her in without any space between them, but he resisted.

  “What else can you tell about me?” he asked, knowing that taking away one of her senses, like her sight, would sharpen the others.

  “You smell like leather. Like you spend time outside...or maybe inside. The leather could be from the fancy furniture. And your hands...they’re strong. Big. Like maybe you work with them.”

  That was true in his off-hours at his main home, a gentleman’s ranch up in Cambria, where he tended the horses. Otherwise, he was either at his desk with its computer or traveling, going from one investment to another: a new golf resort near Dallas, a start-up solar company in Nevada, a software company here in SoCal....

  Not that she needed to know any of this.

  He wanted her to feel more of his hands, so he slowly slid one from her shoulder to her neck. She gasped as he rested his palm at the base of her throat, strumming his fingers over her pulse.

  It throbbed, echoing inside his own body, everywhere.

  “What would you think,” he said, “if you felt my hands all over you?”

  She laughed, again nervously. “More foreplay?”

  “A lot more.”

  He thought he heard a sound of surrender as he brushed her throat with his fingertips. His groin was pumping with a desire he could barely contain, his lungs so tight that he could barely talk anymore.

  So he didn’t talk. Instead, he brought his other hand to the side of her head, angling it so her neck was exposed to his mouth. But he didn’t kiss her.

  Too early. Too intimate.

  He only allowed his breath to coat her skin as he listened to her own breathing quicken. Then he eased the hand at her throat down, over a breast, feeling how her nipple beaded beneath her thin blouse and her bra.

  Rubbing his thumb around it, he held her as her knees gave out.

  “That’s my beautiful girl,” he whispered in her ear, disturbing some strands of blond hair that had escaped from her braid. “Just give in.”

  “I already have.” She reached up, bringing the hand he’d used to tilt her head down to her belly. “I know what I want from you, Callum. And I want it bad.”

  Was she saying what he thought she was saying?

  At the idea of actually entering her, flesh to flesh, he froze. A sense of betrayal clutched at him, because he’d told himself that he wouldn’t go that far with any woman, not even Leigh.

  So he merely drew circles over her lower stomach with his fingers, toying with her breast with the other hand, making her press back against him. She’d be able to feel his erection through his jeans.

  Damn it, he was ready, aching, but ever since Carla had died, there hadn’t been anyone....

  Not the time to think about that.

  He brought his hand up so he could unbutton Leigh’s blouse from the top down. One button. Another. He mimicked the teasing pace she’d used the other night when she’d undone the top of that country dress for him.

  When he’d finished with the buttons, he drew the blouse from her shoulders, smoothing the material down her arms, letting it drop to the floor. Meanwhile, she hadn’t made a move to take off her blindfold, but he knew it was because she’d bought fully into the game they were playing.

  The perfect partner for what both of them needed—nothing but a good time.

  With her blouse off, the sun coming through the window showed him the details of her back, streamlined and graceful, with muscles that defined her body, a slim waist. Unhooking her pink bra, he let that fall away from the front of her.

  He gently turned her around so she faced him. He saw her mouth first—the pretty pink lips that parted with every short breath, the strong chin with the near dimple, the slant of her cheekbones under smooth skin. He wished he could remove the blindfold so he could look into her eyes, see what color they were up close, even though Beth had told him they were an olive-green.

  Instead, he gazed down at her breasts. Small yet firm, tipped by coral areolae that had gone hard for him.

  Cupping her with his palms, he ran both thumbs over her nipples, watching them peak.

  “How many men have done this to you?” he asked.

  “I don’t want to think of other men.”

  “I want to know.” He needed the mental distance that her past stories would provide.

  “A few men. Not many. Not like this....”

  She gasped again as he bent down and took a nipple into his mouth. Losing her balance, she planted her hands in his hair, grasping it while he used his tongue to swirl around her.

  “Callum...” she murmured.

  The sound of another man’s name pierced him, and he took his mouth off of her.

  Why had it mattered? Why should it, when this was what they’d both signed up for?

  He stood, her fingers still entwined in his hair, feeling its texture as if that would give her a clue as to what he looked like.

  He let her do it until his chest got warm, and then he grabbed her by the wrists, lowering her hands. But he dived right back into the game as he trailed his fingers down her ribs, her waist, coming to where her wraparound skirt tied. With an a
ggressive tug, he undid that, and the material twisted to the ground, leaving her in just her blindfold, pink lace panties and boots. He could see a hint of hair beneath the pink, and the sight needled his cock.

  Hooking his thumbs in the sides of her underwear, he raised the material up so it pressed against the center of her, and she fisted her hands by her sides. Then he pulled the material down, over her thighs, her knees, her boots. She stepped out of the panties, holding her hands out so she wouldn’t fall.

  Damn, she was pretty everywhere—pink in her center, fine blond hair covering her. He helped her off with her boots and, controlling himself, setting the pace, he went to the bed.

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  When he looked back at her, she had her hands in front of her, searching for him.

  “Right here.” He moved back to her with the negligee in hand. “Raise your arms.”

  As soon as she did, he lowered the garment over her, and he could see her shiver as the filmy material whisked along her skin.

  “Come here,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to the bed, sitting her down. Then he bent to a knee, taking one stocking, sliding it up her leg. It was the kind that had sticky stuff that held up the silk, so he didn’t have to fasten any garters.

  He skimmed the second one up her other leg, trying hard not to look at the pink between her thighs again. But it was nearly impossible.

  Grabbing her hand once more, he helped her up from the bed, turned her around, then decided to forget about the matching robe. He wanted as much skin as possible to go with the negligee.

  “You comfortable?” he asked.

  “Yes. I kind of wish I could see what I look like, though. I’ve never worn lingerie that feels this nice.”

  For a second he wondered if she was still getting used to her new appearance, all the weight she’d lost. But she would’ve looked just as good with those extra curves as she did now.

  “You’d be pleased with what you see, just like I am,” he said. “Remember when I mentioned the satin doll?”

  She nodded.

  “That’s you,” he said. “A living doll to admire.”

  “A blow-up doll who won’t kiss and tell?”

  “No.” In spite of their no-strings-attached arrangement, she wasn’t just an object to him. Then again, that was how this whole thing had started out, wasn’t it? With her being a challenge, a Taste of Honey date that wouldn’t last for more than a night. But somewhere along the line, that idea had gone off the rails, and he was trying to get it back on.

  And he would, just as he controlled everything else in his life: the finances he’d tripled since inheriting them from Carla, his emotions when it came to meeting women online or going on a so-called blind date like this....

  He led Leigh toward the window, where a silk damask upholstered chair with thick mahogany armrests and legs waited. Sitting her down, he backed away.

  “I’m going to dress you a little more,” he said.

  “In what?”

  “I’ll tell you as I’m doing it.”

  As she reclined in the chair, he snatched the toe shoes from the mattress. Beth, who’d taken ballet lessons in her youth, had shown him how to tie them after he’d ordered all the different outfits and had them express delivered.

  He carefully eased the slippers onto Leigh’s feet, wrapping the long satin strands around one ankle, then the next.

  “And something else.” He fetched the last detail from the bed.

  “Just tell me,” she said.

  “Trust me, remember?” He took a silken cord and laid it over her wrist. “Do you know what this is?”

  “I remember seeing it on the mattress.” A mere whisper.

  “I won’t do this if you don’t want it.”

  She hesitated, and he almost backed off, disappointment heavy in his belly.

  Then she leaned her head back on the chair.

  “Try it,” she said, and he heard how the excitement laced her voice now.

  A first time for everything, he thought. And he would make her first time worthwhile.

  He secured her wrists with both cords, then guided one of her feet to the leg of the chair.

  “Is this okay?” he asked.

  She must’ve felt the air brushing against the center of her thighs, because she’d let her head cant to the side in obvious restlessness.

  “Yes,” she said.

  Keeping himself in line, he avoided looking at anything but her ankle as he tied her, then worked on the other one.

  When he was done, her legs were parted, her toes en pointe just like a ballerina’s, her most private place clearly damp with excitement.

  But there was more. So much more.

  He lifted a feather from the bed, waiting. One minute. One minute and a half.

  “Where are you?” she asked anxiously.

  “Here.”

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Wondering where you think I’m going to touch you now.”

  “Callum, this isn’t fair. You’re killing me.”

  He was feeling a little death creeping up on him more and more, too. “Don’t worry about anything.”

  He touched the feather to her cheek, and she jumped.

  “Something soft,” he said. “Something harmless.”

  “The feather I saw near the cords.”

  “That’s right.”

  Trailing it downward, he coasted it over her collarbone, between her breasts, and then he pulled it away.

  She was trembling, sinking down in her seat, her back arched as she strained against the cords.

  “Are there any men in your life now, Leigh?” he asked.

  She blew out a breath. “Are you asking about my love life again?”

  “Just idle talk.” And distance.

  “Of course there aren’t.”

  “Because you’re a free agent.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Why, though?” He could see her hips wiggling a bit, as if inviting him to put the feather on her again. “Any man would be lucky to have you.”

  She gritted her jaw, and he knew she was probably thinking, Then why’re you waiting?

  He laughed, taking mercy on her, using the feather again, guiding it under a breast. She pressed toward it, whimpering slightly. And when he brushed it back and forth over her nipple, she parted her lips, churning her hips slightly.

  That drew his attention to her spread legs, her glistening center just under the see-through creamy white material. She was open to him, her clit stiff and ready.

  His erection beating with need, he lightly touched the feather to her pleasure spot.

  “Damn you,” she murmured, pulling against her bindings.

  “Should I stop?”

  “Yes. No. Don’t stop.”

  He wanted to ask her to reach back into her memories, to tell him if she remembered that one party where a boy with dark hair, gold eyes and broadening shoulders under a plaid shirt had longed for her. But the memory of those days, when he’d been a nobody, before Carla had come along and made him feel like a somebody, caused such weakness. And weakness wasn’t a part of his life anymore.

  He bent down, untying the cords at her ankles with jerky motions, then effortlessly hooked her legs over his shoulders. A little cry came from her as he pulled her hips to his mouth, making her rock toward him as he connected with her.

  Wet. Strawberry. Leigh.

  Kissing her between the legs thoroughly, he slowly worked her, using his lips, his tongue. She squirmed under him, moaning, grinding against him.

  He even thought he heard some cursing as he entered her with his tongue, in and out, sucking, then circling her clit.

  As her voic
e got higher, his libido did, too, slicing upward with a vicious stroke of passion, darting sideways and back again, slashing desire through him until he had to hold back from bursting.

  Another violent cut upward...another rip through his belly...up, up, up—

  Just as he thought he couldn’t take any more, she let out a full-throated cry that seemed to echo through every corner of the room. His cock pushed against his jeans, and he knew that he needed satisfaction now or a release outside of this room, away from her.

  “I want you inside me,” she said, her voice rough. “Now, Callum....”

  He wanted it, too. Damn it, did he ever. But that hadn’t been in his plans. It couldn’t be.

  He’d never forgive himself if he went that far, although with every beat of his pulse, he needed her and wanted to make her feel like the most desirable woman on earth.

  Before he did something he would be sorry for, he grabbed the robe from the bed, laying it over her legs, then untied her wrists just before he left the room for the release his body was keening for. But as usual, he hadn’t had enough from Leigh.

  Would he ever?

  * * *

  LEIGH WAS JUST coming down from her crackling high when she realized that her hands were untied and she was alone.

  No sound in the room. No Callum. Or was she wrong?

  “Callum?”

  Nothing. She fumbled with her blindfold, pulling it down, her body still on fire.

  “Callum?”

  Still no answer. Really? Even after all that, he wasn’t going to stick around? She’d been almost sure that he was leading up to a huge “Hey, I’m the guy who just gave you the Big O” moment and would reveal himself this time.

  But it was all part of the game. He’d given her a screaming orgasm yet hadn’t gotten off himself. Maybe he was saving that for tonight...?

  She stood, losing her balance once again, but this time because of the ballet shoes. Nonetheless, she tossed the blindfold to the bed. Then, across the room, she noticed a full-length old-fashioned mirror, and she stopped moving when she got a gander at herself.

  Was this actually her? The slim woman with the long blond braid, dressed in a naughty angel’s negligee and thigh-high stockings?

  A flush roared up her body, bathing her face red, when she took in just how skimpy her outfit was. But...