Topspin

by Soliman, W.

  He’d fallen hard for Tania and pursued her relentlessly until she’d agreed to marry him. It had to be marriage. Jack knew with certainty he’d met the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. She even inspired him to crave respectability. He protected her from his sordid working life, daring to imagine he could settle down like a regular bloke and have kids, a dog, a big house in the country. The whole nine yards. If he was a superstitious man, he’d have been telling himself even then that his sins were always going to find him out and it wasn’t in the script for him to be happy. Perhaps he even believed it, which was why he had no intention of ever getting serious with a woman again.

  “I bumped into Tania in London the other day,” Colin said, as though reading Jack’s mind. “She’s looking good.”

  Jack stiffened at the deliberate mention of her name. Did she still live in town? He had no idea and refused to give Palmer the impression that he gave a shit. There was little he could do to force him to leave the club, either, not without raising unwanted speculation about their history. But Jack reckoned he probably wouldn’t have to do anything much to hasten his departure. If he reverted to type, he’d soon put his foot in it and queer his own pitch. In the meantime he just needed a little reminder to keep his mouth shut about Jack’s past. Out of sight of the other members, he took Colin’s arm in a vicious grip, forcing it up his back until it was on the point of snapping.

  “What the fuck—”

  “Just shut up and listen,” Jack growled in Palmer’s ear. “If one word gets out about inappropriate matters, do I need to remind you what—”

  “Sure, Jack, no sweat. I’m not gonna say anything. I’m just here to make a new start, same as you. I don’t want any trouble.”

  “Good. Because I seem to recall that you’re right-handed.” Jack gave the arm attached to the hand in question another vicious twist. “It would be heartbreaking if this little twig were to snap and ruin your means of making a living.”

  “For Christ’s sake, Jack, be reasonable!”

  “Keep it that way.” Jack glared into his eyes. “You know very well that I don’t make idle threats.”

  He let him go and watched him walk away, ashen-faced and trembling, no longer quite so cocky.

  Claire parked her car a discreet distance away from the development Rod was working on and let herself into the show apartment with her own key.

  “You’re late.”

  “Sorry, I had trouble getting away.”

  He was lying naked on the bed but stood up when she entered the room, gliding across the distance that separated them to deliver a stinging blow to her buttocks with his open palm. She winced, then a slow grin spread across her face as she met his eye and waited for the pain to transmute to pleasure. He’d taught her to anticipate the moment when the tingling became almost orgasmic. A precursor to the rough sex that would soon follow. Claire looked up at him with sparkling eyes, not daring to put her request for more into words in case he punished her by not obliging.

  Rod reached behind her and yanked the zipper of her dress down so hard that she was surprised it didn’t break. She stepped out of it and stood in front of him in her cream lace underwear. Waiting. Anticipating. He slid his hand inside her panties and laughed when his fingers came away soaking wet.

  “What’s turned you on?”

  “Oh, just the prospect of being with you. I thought lunch would never end.”

  “Well, it’s a good job you’re in the mood because I’ve got something for you that you’re gonna like.”

  “So I see.” She glanced down, moistening her lips as she ran her fingers down the length of an impressive erection. It jerked even more rigidly to attention but he slapped her hand away.

  “Not that. I’ve got something else. Something you’ve been lusting after for a while.”

  Claire looked up at him, intrigued. The only thing she wanted was that glorious cock buried deep inside her and she wasn’t sure she could wait much longer.

  “What is it?”

  Without answering, he took her hand and led her to the bed. When she saw the ropes attached to the headboard her excitement ricocheted. What was it about being tied up, helpless and at his complete mercy, that so turned her on? Was she a natural submissive? She never would have said so, but since meeting Rod she’d had to face up to certain facets of her character she hadn’t been aware existed. He tied her hands to the bed-head and disappeared into the adjoining room without a word of explanation.

  Claire swallowed her growing unease. She pushed to the back of her mind the knowledge that she’d broken one of her strictest rules, not only by allowing this affair to go on for too long but by letting him be the one in control. It was dangerous. If she was honest with herself she’d have to admit that he was becoming more than just a good fuck. Her emotions were in danger of intruding into the relationship. She was starting to care for him. She couldn’t believe she’d allowed things to get to that stage. But on the rare occasions when she arrived, determined to end the relationship, he appeared to know and savaged her body until she was too weak to move, much less think about terminating the affair.

  She’d answered his questions about her life and had long since admitted to her real name, what her husband did for a living, how she filled her days. She never did that. She always tired of them and moved on when they started to get possessive. Rod was different, the exception that proved the rule, but she would still have to end their affair soon.

  Not quite yet, though.

  Rod walked back into the room with another man—a black man she’d seen hanging around the building site office and about whose attributes she’d idly speculated on more than one occasion with Rod. The man gave her an appraising stare and her confidence faltered. Speculation was one thing, but taking them both together, which she knew would be Rod’s intention…

  She didn’t know if she could actually do it.

  “This is Paul.”

  No other explanation for his presence was forthcoming. Not that any was necessary. She’d already guessed what Rod had in mind and she knew she shouldn’t go that far. She should refuse and get out while she still could. He’d untie her straight away if she said she wanted to leave, wouldn’t he? Suddenly she was no longer quite so sure.

  The moment Paul started to strip off his clothes, her fears—and the remnants of her inhibitions—fell away with them. What the hell! Her eyes widened in appreciation of his physical attributes. She moistened her lips and said hello to Paul in a voice rendered husky with desire.

  Rod chuckled. “Sounds like the lady’s in a hurry.”

  “Yeah, but first things first. Didn’t you say she was due a punishment for being late?”

  “I sure did.”

  Rod’s lazy smile broadened as Paul picked up a birch and thwacked it experimentally against his palm.

  “Turn over.”

  Claire struggled to do so, ignoring the chaffing of the ropes against her wrists as she wiggled into position. Desire and anticipation surged through her in dizzying waves. Like Rod, Paul possessed little finesse, but Claire wasn’t complaining. She took the savage beating he administered, writhing as her senses sprang to life and her nerve endings tingled with sensory delight. It seemed like an eternity before Paul slid his pulsating cock into her from behind. She was proud to accommodate his impressive girth in a manner that was anything but routine, meeting his harsh demands with the swift compliance Rod always expected from her.

  “Does your husband do this to you, sugar?”

  “No.”

  “Ah, no, of course not. What does Joe do to you, then?”

  “Oh, you know, the usual.” She groaned as he thrust harder into her, pushing back to meet him. “God, that feels so good!”

  “No, I don’t know. Describe it for me. Tell me what you think about when Joe’s fucking you.”

  “I pretend that I’m being…” Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t bring herself to say the words aloud. Irrationally, it seemed
disloyal.

  “Pretend what? Tell me, Claire.”

  “I pretend Rod’s inside me,” she admitted in a tiny voice.

  “I’ll just bet you do!” She could hear the smile in Paul’s voice. “You love your husband but he doesn’t satisfy you, is that right?” She nodded, ashamed, but more frightened that he’d stop what he was doing if she didn’t. “What he does, it’s not enough for you. You like to be violated.” He punctuated his words with a series of brutal thrusts. “Brutal treatment makes you feel alive. Am I right?”

  “Answer the man, Claire,” Rod said.

  “I…I can’t.”

  “Tell me or I won’t beat you again.” Paul spoke in a persuasive whisper, his lips brushing the erogenous zone beneath her ear. “And you want me to beat you, don’t you?” She nodded once, unable to speak. A squeal of protest escaped her when he abruptly pulled out of her anus. “Nor will I finish what we’re doing unless you tell me.”

  She shook her head, refusing to say the words he wanted to hear.

  “Oh well.” Paul lifted himself from the bed. “I guess you won’t get to come, then.”

  That was one threat too many and all three of them knew it.

  “Yes, I like to be violated.”

  Claire was on the brink of climax as soon as Paul slid back inside her, just from talking dirty to a man she’d never met before but who was currently the center of her universe; a man she’d do absolutely anything for because he understood her needs and wasn’t in the business of sitting in judgment on her.

  Paul chuckled. “We’ll have to see if we can oblige, then.”

  What followed was beyond Claire’s wildest dreams. She was sandwiched between two young, virile men as they fucked her simultaneously, almost splitting her in two. Claire lived for this sort of pain; it made her feel alive as nothing else ever had. She gloried in the sensation of their pricks throbbing inside her, building up momentum.

  They forbade her to come until they said she could, and holding back her climax was the most exquisite agony she’d ever experienced. They performed faultlessly, presumably because they’d done the same thing before. Jealousy, something Claire had seldom experienced, briefly streaked through her.

  Not that she really cared who they’d honed their skills on, just so long as they didn’t stop fucking her.

  The strain of holding her orgasm back was starting to tell on Claire. “God, this is torture!” she cried. “I’m shaking. I can’t hold out for much longer.” Rod deliberately tormented her G-spot as she spoke.

  “Don’t, I can’t—”

  Paul whispered from behind that her moment had come. She didn’t need to be told twice and, expelling a long breath, let herself go.

  The cataclysmic climax which ripped through her like a tornado was as brutal as it was liberating. She screamed for even more as the sensation burned and intensified. They obliged as, with a series of guttural moans, both men ejaculated inside her.

  When she left the flat an hour later, once again the epitome of the respectable consultant’s wife, she was briefly ashamed of the things they’d persuaded her to do afterward—very briefly. It wasn’t in Claire’s nature to regret any of her sexual liaisons, especially not this one. To be dominated by two such obviously alpha males was a fantasy come true. Her body ached and burned, her muscles spasmed, and her knees were unsteady. It was a testament to the depths she’d plummeted at the hands of two virtual strangers. They had humiliated her, and she’d loved every minute of it.

  She’d got so carried away that it didn’t occur to her to wonder why Paul seemed vaguely familiar to her. Even if it had, she would only have put it down to seeing him hanging round the sales office on the building site. He was unrecognizable from the man in overalls and shades who’d been supposedly working on the court repairs that morning.

  Sheba and Leah drifted out of school in a crowd of chattering girls occupied with mobile phone conversations, sending text messages, eyeing up the boys, and discarding items of superfluous uniforms.

  Leah shook her head. “I don’t think I can. You know what my dad’s like about me staying out late on school nights. Besides, I’d die if he insisted on coming to pick me up.”

  “We’re only going to hang out on the beach. No biggie. But if you’re too young to be trusted out alone, it don’t matter to me.” Sheba shrugged. “I just thought it might be a laugh, that’s all.”

  “It’s not that, Sheba. You know I want to come.”

  “Then pretend you’re having an early night or something and then sneak out. Or don’t you dare?”

  “Of course I dare.” Leah lifted her chin defiantly. “I’ll be there!”

  But Leah’s bold response didn’t even register with Sheba. Instead she was looking at a man leaning against the fence outside their school, watching the kids. He was quite fit, but old. At least forty. He didn’t look like a pervert. Not that Sheba had any clear idea what one was supposed to look like, but she thought they were required to wear old macs with questionable stains down them and have greasy hair and shifty eyes.

  She lost interest in the guy and turned back to Leah, ready to entertain herself by goading her a little more. But before she’d even opened her mouth, something made her look again. The man appeared to be smiling directly at her. The smile made his eyes crinkle in the corners in a manner that stirred something in the recesses of her brain. His hair was long, curling over the collar of his shirt, his eyes an unusual shade of brown. His body was deeply tanned, as though he spent a lot of time working outside. There was something about him that made her continue to stare. She couldn’t put her finger on quite what it was. She thought perhaps it was to do with her dad.

  Sheba’s heart lurched when she thought about the father she idolized but hadn’t seen for more than six years. He lived on the mainland, and for reasons she consistently refused to explain, her mother had made him promise not to come near her or Malik. It was so unfair. She was old enough now to be told what the problem was between them. What had he done to upset her mother so badly? If she knew what was going on, she’d be able to make up her own mind about whether she wanted to see him.

  “Sheba?”

  Sheba blinked. She’d never forgotten the distinctive tone of his voice. She’d been hearing it in her dreams since the day they’d left the only place she’d ever thought of as home. That fateful day when her bitch of a mother had pretended they were going away on holiday and that they’d see their dad when they got there. She’d tricked her and Malik into leaving without even giving them the opportunity to say goodbye.

  “Dad?” She blinked for a second time and slowly approached the man, shaking off Leah’s restraining hand. “Dad, is that really you?”

  He opened his arms and, oblivious to the curious expressions on the faces of her friends, she hurtled herself into them.

  “Hey, pumpkin, how you doing?”

  Sheba’s eyes filled with tears. “Dad, oh Dad, I’m so glad to see you! I’ve missed you so much.” She snuggled a little closer. “I’ve got so much to tell you.”

  When Angela got home that evening, exhausted after a full afternoon’s work and dispirited by Jack’s failure to appear at the salon, she didn’t think her day could get any worse. Then she entered her sitting room and stopped dead in her tracks. How wrong she had been!

  The twins were cozily ensconced on the sofa, one on either side of her ex-husband, roaring their heads off at something he was saying to them.

  “What’s going on?”

  The laughter ceased abruptly and three heads turned in her direction. Angela gulped back her fury, conscious of the delight the twins took in their father’s presence and reluctant to fight with him in front of them.

  “Are you all right, Mum?” Malik asked, his lingering smile fading.

  Angela wasn’t even aware her son had spoken. Her brain was in overdrive as myriad possible explanations for her husband’s presence raced through her. Horrified, her gaze was glued to his face as she swallowed
her apprehension and struggled to remain calm.

  “What’s going on?” she asked for a second time in a voice that sounded high-pitched and most unlike her own. “What the hell are you doing here, Rod?”

  Chapter Four

  ED WAS FULL OF HIMSELF when he and Stella left the club. Even the knowledge that his manager was unable to evict the non-rent-paying tenants from one of his flats in Southend wasn’t enough to dampen his spirits. Stella’s heart plummeted. The only thing worse than Ed’s violent spells was his attempt to make amends afterward. That almost always involved some outdoor sexual exploit guaranteed to leave her both unfulfilled and rigid with embarrassment. Stella choked on a sigh. If she lived to be a hundred she’d never understand why her husband was driven by this constant need to publicly demonstrate his dominance over her.

  “We’ll be able to make something decent out of that club now, darlin’, you just mark my words. That Colin seems to be a decent chap and agrees with a lot of my ideas. All we have to do now is find a way to foist Trina out of the chairman’s position, get me appointed in her place, and there’ll be no stopping us.”

  “But don’t you think—”

  “I think you and me make a great team. Once we’re in charge, with Colin reporting to me, there’ll be no end to what we can achieve.”

  Stella stifled a derisive snort. “But Ed, are you sure you’ve got time for all the extra responsibility? I mean, what with things not going so well with the properties right now. Don’t you think we’ve got enough on our plate?”

  He scowled at her. “What is it with you? Why do you always have to bring that up?”

  Stella was starting to wonder the same thing herself. Ed’s burning ambition to rise above his humble origins and earn acceptance by the club’s hierarchy consumed him. Not that it would ever happen. She’d overheard the powers that be laughing between themselves at his social-climbing antics. Jack, on the other hand, didn’t try to make an impression. Nor did he give a toss what people thought of him. Seeing how popular that made him drove Ed demented.