What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 2)

by Vi Keeland

  I looked up at him. There was a challenge in his eyes, but something else. A longing, perhaps? The desire…or the need…to dominate me. I wasn’t sure. I took a deep breath.

  “Okay. Yes. I’m willing to try.” I took a drink of water. “But do I really have to call you Master in public?”

  Jake sat back, his hand still caressing mine. “We can negotiate. I’ll accept Master in private, Jake in public. Will that be acceptable?”

  I tilted my head, considering. “I’ll agree to that.”

  Jake smiled. He took his hand away from mine, moving it beneath the table to my leg.

  “Do you remember what I told you my goal had been for our first session?” His eyes were locked with mine.

  I nodded. “I wasn’t supposed to come until you gave me permission.” My breath caught in my throat.

  Jake nodded. “I think we should try that again, give you some practice.”

  He rested his hand on my thigh for a moment. Just the weight and heat of his hand sent a thrill through my body. Very slowly he began moving his hand beneath my skirt, his fingers sliding to the inside of my thigh, gradually increasing the pressure against my skin, circling that sensitive spot just north of my knee.

  “How was work today?” The banality of the question caught me off guard, contrasting sharply with the teasing fingers working their way beneath my skirt. I could feel cool air against my naked skin as he slowly pulled my skirt higher on my leg, the warmth of his fingers on my skin amazingly erotic and arousing.

  I shivered, my thigh muscles tensing briefly. There was a corresponding pinch from Jake, gentle but firm.

  “Um…well, fine. I have a new client.” How was I supposed to have a conversation about work with him doing whatever he was doing to me under the table?

  “Nice. Big account?” Jake’s voice was like velvet over fire, low, seductive and entirely too sexy to be discussing work. Submissive…you’re a submissive. Play the role.

  “Too soon to tell.” My breath caught in my throat; his hand rested on my upper thigh now, gently pulling my leg toward him, opening me up beneath the table. I panicked, looking down to make sure the tablecloth actually obscured anyone’s view. My muscles tensed again, straining against his hand, holding my legs together.

  The pinch this time was long and slow, making me gasp. Jake leaned toward me, his lips against my ear, his breath brushing against my skin.

  “Let go, Abby. Trust me…” I felt the briefest brush of his lips on my skin, soft and firm at the same time.

  I took a deep breath, a long drink of water and relaxed. Jake’s hand resumed its pressure, and I allowed him to manipulate me as he wanted, my legs spreading open beneath the table.

  With gently strokes he began caressing the inside of my thigh, circling higher and higher, edging closer but not quite touching my pussy. It seemed to go on forever, this seductive dance of his fingers over my skin.

  When his fingers finally brushed slowly and deliberately against the outside of my pussy, I jumped, a surprised sound escaping my lips. He pulled his fingers back and I tensed, leaning forward, aching for his touch, wanting to apologize. But I remained silent.

  Slowly, his fingers moved back, like an animal circling its prey. He slid them into me then, slowly, over and over, probing deeper and deeper. My gasp this time was loud enough to make Jake cover the sound with a cough and for me to bite the inside of my lip. I glanced at him; his smile only aroused me more, that smile that held all kinds of dark promises.

  His deliberate touch on my skin, into my most private recesses, had set off a cascade of feelings in my body. I felt a flush rising up my cheeks, my palms were damp and I knew damn well if he probed any further he find out just how aroused I was. My insides were throbbing, somewhere deep, a low pulsing that made my hips move imperceptibly in time to his inquisitive fingers.

  I closed my eyes, breathing shallowly through parted lips. I felt him shift next to me; his mouth was at my ear, his lips brushing my skin.

  “Look at me, Abby.” I turned my head, his face just inches away again. I met his gaze and held it, the intensity in those blue depths drawing me in.

  His fingers were sliding between the folds of my pussy and I knew he’d discover how wet I was. There was no hiding anything from him now, not that I really wanted to. I discovered with a bit of a shock that I wanted him to do this to me, to take me on this little wild erotic ride in public, drive me over whatever cliff he choose, and I’d go willingly.

  My eyes were locked with his, my breath coming in short gasps when the waiter arrived with our first course. Jake sat back, completely relaxed, in control of not only me but himself, chatting easily with the waiter, asking for a bottle of some wine I didn’t recognize. I was a quivering mess, held on the edge of something, poised there, waiting, unable to do anything about it. And I didn’t want to; I wanted Jake to take me further.

  “Well, Abby. How are you enjoying dinner…so far?” I looked at Jake, that Cheshire cat smile on his lips, his eyes practically twinkling, looking urbane and sophisticated in contrast with how I felt inside; a wanton disheveled woman on the edge.

  The last thing I thought I wanted was dinner. I wanted him, but I knew that wasn’t what was on the menu. I needed to be patient, to let him control this, and me, and trust him. And damn, that was hard.

  “I’m anxious for the main course…or maybe dessert?” I took a bite of the food placed in front of me, the rich, complex flavors distracting me briefly from the fire raging through my body. Whatever Jake had ordered, it was sublime. I moaned a little as I chewed.

  “What is this?” I was industriously working through this creamy little thing I’d been presented with.

  “Goat cheese flan.” He was watching me eat, an open smile of amusement on his face.

  “It’s nice to see a girl who enjoys her food. It’s something I like about you, Abby. You enjoy sensual things, like eating. Or enjoying the scent of your own perfume.” He leaned over, his nose near my neck, inhaling. He sat back, his fingers brushing the hair behind my ear. I leaned into his touch, seeking more contact, like a cat rubbing against an outstretched hand.

  We finished the first course quickly. I wanted Jake to continue his erotic play, but he leaned forward, elbows on the table.

  “Let’s talk a bit about protocol, okay?”

  I nodded. I started to pull my skirt back down, but a little voice said Jake had not given me permission. Oh, yeah…that’s how it is. Got it.

  “Okay.” I squirmed a little, the heat still throbbing low in my belly.

  “We need to talk about punishment, for the times when you disobey me.” Jake took a swallow of wine, turning the stem of the glass with his fingers.

  “Oh. You mean like yesterday.” I looked down at the wine in my glass, something deep and red and wonderful. I took another swallow.

  “Yes. I can’t punish you in retrospect; that’s not right. But I can tell you that in future sessions, you don’t speak unless I ask you a question or ask you to speak. We can discuss what that punishment will be before our next session.” He looked over at me, his eyes icy blue.

  “Do you understand? And, do you agree?”

  I nodded my head. While he’d been talking, his hand had slid back under the table. I felt the warmth against my skin before I felt the pressure of his fingers. They were back where he’d left off, stroking me softly, slowly. My body responded with a surge of heat, a whole body tremble that didn’t go unnoticed by Jake. I heard a sharp intake of breath to my right and the hand on my leg clutched me briefly, hard and insistent. I longed to reach over to his lap, to disturb that cool exterior, to grope and fondle him beneath the table, to see just how aroused he was by this whole thing. As if reading my thoughts, he spoke, his voice husky, a bit rushed.

  “You’re driving me wild, Abby. And you’re being a very good girl tonight. A very good girl.”

  There was a moment there when the restaurant faded away; the sights and smells, the sounds of the other
diners, everything disappeared except the touch of Jake’s hand on my skin and the sound of his voice in my ear. ‘A very good girl.’

  I wanted to be a good girl, wanted to please Jake. I relaxed my legs as far as I could without sliding down on the leather seat. In all honesty, I wanted to melt right onto the floor, but I did my best to remain upright.

  My hips were twitching and flexing, my breath coming in little hitching gasps. I looked over at Jake, my eyes willing him to continue but begging him to stop.

  Something passed between us, a look that told him everything. His hand moved away, sliding down my thigh.

  “Very good, Abby.” He smiled. I felt a surge of something close to gratitude, which seemed an odd feeling to have for someone who was tormenting me in public. But I was actually enjoying this, willing to let Jake do to me what was giving him pleasure, and taking pleasure in not only his hands on my body, but in knowing I was doing what he wanted me to do.

  With perfect timing, our main course arrived. I was presented with a sea bass on a bed of greens. I’m not a fish girl, but this was amazing. I don’t know if Jake’s hands on my body had anything to do with my heightened awareness and increased enjoyment of the food, but the sea bass was indescribably delicious.

  We ate in silence, Jake savoring every bite of his tenderloin. He glanced over at me, sliced a small piece from his meal and held the fork toward me. I leaned forward, letting him feed me the tender morsel of beef. It literally melted in my mouth. Jake was watching me, a smile of satisfaction on his face.

  “I’m really enjoying myself, Abby. I think you are too.”

  I nodded. I didn’t really have words for how I felt at the moment. Somewhere along the line, I figured I’d have a chance to explain to Jake how I’d felt. But at the moment, I was held hostage by the sensations flooding my body and the sea bass teasing my taste buds.

  Dessert arrived. And again, Jake’s choice was perfect, as was his execution. He’d ordered one piece of chocolate cake, covered in crème anglaise and what looked like a cherry sauce, with only one fork. I lifted an eyebrow at Jake.

  The smile I got from him made me melt a little. “You said you were waiting for dessert. Well, here it is.” Jake slid the fork through the cake, scooping up the crème and the sauce. Holding my chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, he slid the fork between my lips.

  And then I melted a whole lot more. The cake was rich and not too sweet, the crème warm and gooey, and the dark cherry sauce giving a subtle tart cast to the whole mouthful.

  “Oh, my god, Jake. That is amazing,” I mumbled through a mouthful of cake.

  Jake laughed, a sound almost as rich as the cake.

  “I thought you’d like this.” With infinite care, he fed me another bite, taking one for himself.

  In between feeding me bites of cake, Jake’s hand moved back between my legs. With the same infinite care he used in feeding me, he began slowly sliding one finger into my body, pulling it out, rubbing it up over my clit, repeating this path over and over.

  The fire Jake had lit earlier, that had been banked and smoldering during dinner flared instantly at his touch. I was right back at that precipice, hanging over the edge. I looked at Jake, holding his gaze. He slid another tiny piece of cake into my mouth, leaning forward, his lips finding my ear.

  “Come for me, Abby. Come for me now.”

  And I did, my hands gripping the edge of the table tightly, my body silently exploding, every muscle in my lower body contracting at once. I could feel my toes curl in my shoes, my hips straining forward. If it weren’t for the cake in my mouth, I would have screamed. I felt Jake take my hand, and I squeezed hard, trying to convey exactly what was happening simply through touch.

  I closed my eyes, letting the sensations wash over me, spiraling through my body, before slowly ebbing away.

  It seemed an eternity but I eventually opened my eyes. Jake was smiling at me, his own arousal at watching me clearly written across his face.

  “Did you enjoy dessert?” Jake leaned forward, tracing one finger down my face. His voice was a little breathless.

  I nodded, not sure I could trust my voice. I bypassed my wine, grabbing my water glass, taking a long drink, waiting for my heartbeat to return to normal.

  “Yes, Jake. I did. Very much so.” I turned to him, taking his hand. I held it to my lips for a moment.

  “You were a very good girl, Abby. You deserve a reward.” Jake caught the waiter’s attention, got the check and paid in a matter of minutes. It wasn’t much longer before we were heading out of downtown Houston in his car.

  “We’re going to your house?” I turned to him, his face inscrutable in the dark.

  “You deserve a reward and I’d like to give you that tonight. I don’t want to delay that in any way.”

  We drove in silence, the city giving way to the suburbs. A soft rain had started to fall, the wipers sweeping intermittently across the windshield. I felt safe and comfortable and extremely curious about the rest of our evening.

  I recognized Jake’s neighborhood and then the gates to his home. We drove up the curving drive, bypassing the front door, pulling beneath the portico, out of the rain. Jake opened my door, helping me out of the car.

  He took me to the tower room side of the portico, unlocking the door, leading me up the dimly lit stairs. I hesitated, remembering the last time I’d been here. It seemed like ages ago, but it had only been yesterday. It seemed like so much had changed between us, but maybe it was only my view of this relationship that had undergone a change.

  Jake opened the door to the tower room. I expected the stripped down bed from the day before, but instead I saw he’d made the bed with sheets and pillows, a richly colored comforter folded across the foot of the bed.

  “Oh, Jake. It’s beautiful. When did you do all this?”

  He was moving around the room, lighting fat pillar candles, turning down the lights. Soon the room was lit by the flicker of dozens of candles. He took off his jacket, tossing it over the back of a chair.

  “After you left yesterday. I thought it needed a little…more…for tonight.” He came to stand in front of me, looking down at me, his blue eyes soft in the candle light.

  “I was hoping that tonight would go well, so you could claim your reward.”

  “Am I still in my sub role at the moment?” I resisted the urge to touch him, not wanting to break the spell of the moment.

  “No, Abby. Not now. You’re free to enjoy your reward, without restriction.”

  I took a step toward Jake, breathing deeply. I put my hands on his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through his shirt.

  “And what is my reward?” I looked up, into those eyes. I wanted to hear him say it, needed to hear him say we would make love, have sex, fuck each other’s brains out. Whatever terms he wanted to use, I didn’t care. But I wanted him to say it.

  His hands went around my waist, pulling me lightly against his body, holding me as if I were spun sugar and I’d break if he held me too tightly. He bent his head, his lips brushing not my mouth, but over my closed eyelids, down my cheek, his breath warm against my ear. I felt the flick of his tongue against my neck, in that place where I knew he could feel the pounding of my heart with his lips.

  “Your reward…” he murmured the words into my hair. “I want to devour you, every inch, make a feast out of you.” He pulled back, looking down, eyes dark.

  “And I want you to devour me.”

  And that’s what we set out to do. His mouth descended on mine, claiming my lips, his fingers making quick work of the buttons on my blouse. His hands slid underneath the blouse, cupping my breasts, his thumbs sliding slowly back and forth across my nipples, little snaps of electricity traveling outward from his hands, moving through my body, coalescing in the pit of my stomach.

  I’d managed to pull his shirt free of his pants, getting the top few the buttons undone, but I was distracted by his hands, and then his mouth, on my body. The blouse slid from
my arms, landing in a silky puddle on the floor. Jake was kissing the exposed tops of my breasts, moving from one to the other, lips firm and hot on my skin. I wound my fingers through his dark hair, holding him to me, arching my back, pressing myself shamelessly against him.

  Better at multi-tasking than me, I felt him pull down the zipper on my skirt. It joined the blouse on the floor.

  His hands moved behind me, fingers playing over my skin on my shoulders and back, and then my bra was relieved of its duties for the evening, landing with a soft sound on the floor. I was naked in front of him, in just my heels.

  He stood, looking down at me, breath moving through lips parted. “You are a most beautiful woman, Abby.” His voice was low, that velvet sound making my heart skip a beat or two.

  In one graceful movement he scooped me up, carrying me to the bed, laying me down gently across the sheets. I looked up at him, his hair a bit messy, opened shirt revealing a expanse of smooth chest.

  His eyes never left mine as he quickly unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, pulling it off. It fell out of sight on the floor. He unbuckled his belt, fingers working the button and zipper of his pants. I broke eye contact, looking down as he slid his pants over his narrow hips.

  I knew what he looked like naked, but the physical beauty of his body still took my breath away, maybe because this time he was all mine, in any way I chose to have him. He was all lean muscle, long and powerful looking, wild-cat graceful. I tried not to stare at his erection, but my eyes wanted to stray back. It was long and thick, curving, and at this moment very hard.

  I stifled a small gasp: it suddenly occurred to me Jake’s self-control tonight must have been incredible. He’d sat through our dinner, teasing me, touching me—watching me—taking me over the cliff edge, but had had no outlet for his own arousal. For some reason, that obvious fact had totally escaped me.

  My eyes flew to his face and I saw in his eyes the same barely contained arousal I’d felt during dinner.

  I reached for him then, pulling him down to me, opening myself up to him. At that moment, as much as I wanted him to rekindle the fire he’d started in me during dinner, to devour him as he’d said, I wanted him to take his pleasure in any way he wanted—he needed—with me.