His words aroused me as much as his actions, and as he thrust harder, I moaned in delight. The bed squeaked, my tits swayed almost painfully and my pussy contracted constantly, sucking him deeper inside and coaxing his hot cum from his cock.
He dug his nails into my hips as he came. He didn’t utter a sound, but I felt every explosion of cum inside of me. My pussy clamped down in delight.
“You’re so good,” he groaned and collapsed onto the bed beside me.
“So are you,” I replied. I rolled onto my side, and he pulled me into a tight embrace. I rubbed myself up and down his length. I had felt pleasure as he fucked me, mini-orgasmic tremors through me, but I still felt a major orgasm inside of me, eager to be released.
“Mmmm, does my sweet slut need to come?” he whispered seductively in my ear as he ran a hand down my stomach.
“Yes,” I hissed, the word sticking in the back of my throat.
“Oh, you do? Ask me nicely, and I might just let you.”
“Please make me come, Master,” I begged, and this time, he took mercy swiftly. He dropped his fingers down into my slit, and I moaned as he forced two inside me. He lubed them up with the mixture of our juices and trailed them back up to my clit.
I whimpered as he rubbed up and down over the sensitive nub. It wouldn’t take much more, and with Jack’s words, it took much less time that I thought.
“Oh my sweet slut,” he sighed. “Your cunt feels so good, around my fingers or my tongue or my dick. Your pussy is fucking amazing. I can’t get enough of this wet, hot cunt. I need to fuck it. I want to fuck it. Yes, yes baby, your cunt drives me wild with desire. You drive me wild with desire.”
I groaned and buried my head in his shoulder, my lips against his neck, kissing feverishly.
“Come for me, my love. Come all over these fingers. Explode for me, sweetheart. Let it all go, baby. That’s it. Oh fuck yes. That’s it. Come for me, Emma. Now. Come for me.”
And with a yelp, a shudder and a rush of liquid, I did. I came all over his fingers with my face buried in his neck. As I stopped shaking, he wrapped both arms around me and held me tightly as I recovered from the aftershocks of the most powerful orgasm I had ever felt.
His strong fingers stroked down my back as I gulped and gasped in air. It was infused with the scent of our fucking, that heady scent was enough to make me dizzy with need again. I was shaken by how powerfully I reacted to him.
“Are you okay?” he asked, probably responding to the wet patches of tears pressing against his chest.
“Yes,” I snuffled. “I’m fine.” I didn’t want him to know I’d been shaken to the core.
“Okay.” He dropped a kiss on the top of my head and reluctantly let me out of his embrace.
“Oh, hell, is that the time?” I looked at the clock and started my escape. I had to get away from his distractingly sexy body so I could think. “I’ll have to go, Jack.”
“Okay, Emma, if you have to.”
I looked into his eyes, and I knew he knew I didn’t need to go. He knew I was running away. There was a sadness in his eyes, and impulsively, I leant in to kiss his lips. I had enjoyed myself very much, maybe too much.
“You were wonderful,” I whispered. I didn’t want him to feel as if he’d driven me off. I really didn’t want him to feel bad at all.
“You were fucking fantastic,” he enthused. “I’ll not be able to sleep tonight for thinking of you.”
I blushed and got dressed. He pulled on his trousers and T-shirt then led me downstairs to a different door at the back of his kitchen that led out into the side street.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Yeah.” I smiled, my cheeks flushed and I felt overwhelmed by the moment. It demanded words and actions, and I didn’t have them. I just needed to get home, to think. He leant in and kissed me. He was so tender I nearly broke into sobs, but I sucking in a breath, smiled and walked away.
I didn’t let myself cry until I’d passed the shop window. I was a mass of confused emotions, and I did not know how to deal with them. On the one hand, I knew I had just experienced something special, something I had wanted for a long, long time. On the other hand, I remembered what John had said about it being dysfunctional…and I remembered John.
That was the seat of the problem. I felt guilty. It felt as if I had cheated on John, which was stupid, really stupid, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d really disappointed him. It was not that I had had sex with someone else—even when alive John was not a jealous person, and he would point out good-looking men for me and tell me when guys were flirting with me. No, it was that I’d had such kinky, dirty, submissive sex. John would not approve.
I went home and climbed into my bed. It was still early, but I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t concentrate on the TV or a book. I hoped, if I lay there long enough, I’d fall asleep.
It didn’t happen.
I just kept thinking and thinking. I upset myself more with every thought. It didn’t help that every time I moved I caught Jack’s scent on me and remembered his hands rubbing in the masculine soap, massaging my scalp with the minty shampoo and tenderly drying me with his towel.
Those memories were good, achingly good, and as I replayed the scenes back in my mind, I felt good, adored, worshipped. I didn’t feel used or abused or dysfunctional. John must have been wrong. How could something that felt so right, that made me feel so good, be so wrong?
And each time I came to that conclusion, I felt guiltier, but I could not bear to wash Jack’s scent off my skin. It felt wrong to even think of it. I liked being marked as his. I loved the way he had called me his sweet slut. John would never have said such a thing. He’d barely ever called me a pet name. He hadn’t really believed in them, and he’d thought them derogative.
I battled with myself into the small hours, wavering from one extreme to the other until, finally, I slept out of sheer exhaustion.
The next day, I rang Jack.
“Hello, Jacques. How may I help you?”
His voice was like a velvet caress to my body.
“Hiya, Jack. It’s Emma.”
“Oh, hey, sweetheart. You all right?”
He’d picked it up in my voice, I’m sure. I was nervous, and tears ran down my cheeks.
“No, not really, no. I can’t come this afternoon.” I had planned to end it—to explain then end it—but his low rumbling moan of disappointment threw me. “I’m really not very well, at all.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, poor thing. Well, you take care of yourself, and let me know tomorrow how you’re doing.”
“Okay.” I bit my lip, angry with myself for being such a coward.
“Bye, sweetheart. I’ll miss you.”
“Yeah, you too. Bye.” I slammed down the phone and sighed. I wasn’t good enough for him. I had issues and a past, and I wanted to end it for his good, but when I heard his voice like melted chocolate over crystallised ginger, I wanted him.
Chapter Three
I avoided the shop for three more days. On the third day, I could not bear the feeling of my dirty hair any more, and I had to shower. As I washed off his scent that had dissipated to little more than a memory, I realised something. I realised I needed a new start.
I had been living in the past, living by the rules of my now-dead boyfriend, the rules I had wanted to challenge back then but had never had the heart to do. Why should I live by those rules now? They didn’t work for me, and I should have been more honest with John.
Well, I was going to be honest with Jack. I had to go and tell him everything. I wanted him. I wanted to be his slave, his sweet slut, maybe even his girlfriend. I wanted him, and I wasn’t going to deny it any more.
The old had passed away. The new Emma strode confidently out of the shower and into her sexiest boots. She threw on tight jeans with a breast-enhancing top, and she marched out of that door to see Jack. She needed him.
The confidence of third person thinking wore off as I walked along his street.
Suddenly, I was no longer the sexy, confident new Emma. I was the old, hesitant Emma who was scared to death that she’d be rejected. I had to do it though. I had to go to Jack. I could no longer hide from my true emotions. I’d spent years doing that, and the last twelve months or so had really fucked me up. I had to tell the truth.
The familiar scent of vanilla, sugar and spice hit me as I neared Jacques. I stood for a moment outside, savouring that smell. I looked through the window, smiling and expecting to see Jack, but behind the counter, there was a tall, slim woman serving an elderly lady and smiling.
My mind was full of questions, and when Jack came into the shop, some answers proposed themselves to my mind. He talked to the old lady and laid a hand on the slim woman’s arm. He looked at her and smiled then said something to the customer and leant in to plant a kiss on the slim lady’s cheek.
Fuck, I’d been replaced. She was beautiful, dark hair, and bright green eyed with a lovely figure. No wonder he’d moved on from me. She was beautiful. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and as the bell on the door tinkled, I sobbed. I couldn’t go in. I couldn’t tell him the truth. I had to go.
I didn’t look up. My eyes were blurred with tears anyway so I couldn’t see much, and as I walked away, my head lowered, all I saw was the tarmac below me, swimming and shimmering and seemingly moving beneath my feet.
“Sorry,” I exclaimed as I bumped into someone. My body hurt from the impact, physically and emotionally. I did not want to touch anyone at that moment. Then, suddenly, I detected a familiar, masculine scent.
“Emma, what’s the matter?”
“Jack?” I looked up through the tears and saw his handsome face wrinkled with concern. His hands clasped my arms on either side of my body, and his touch screamed over all the emotions flying through my body. “Oh, Jack.”
I threw myself forward into his arms. He didn’t hesitate to wrap himself around me. He held me close as I sobbed into his shoulder. I drank in his scent, sweet, spicy and uniquely him.
“Emma,” he murmured into my hair, smoothing his hands down my back. “Sweetheart, what is the matter?”
Then I remembered, and I yanked myself from him embrace.
“I saw you,” I sobbed. “I saw you, and I was just going to come in and tell you the truth. I was just going to come in and tell you I wanted you. I was going to come in and tell you I’d been so scared, that you were so good, so perfect, and you made me feel, so, so, right. I was going to tell you…I was going to, then I saw you. I saw you, Jack, with her.”
“With who?” He seemed genuinely confused.
“Back in the shop. The beautiful woman.” I was babbling, incapable of real sentences. “You touched her and kissed her. I saw it.”
He laughed, and I wondered how he could be so cruel. “Oh, you sweet, sweet woman. That’s my sister, Janet. She’s at university, so I’ve given her a part-time job to help me out and help her pay the bills.”
“Your sister?”
“Yes, you sweet, silly thing. My little sister. Didn’t you notice the family resemblance?”
“No,” I sniffed. “It appears I was too busy jumping to conclusions.”
His arms were around me again, and my cheeks burned red against the soft, cool cotton of his top.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispered in my ear, and his lips brushed against my cheek. I looked up, and his lips sought out mine. Words were forgotten. I just tried to communicate all I felt through my kiss. The anguish, the tears, the bitterness and the sweet conclusion.
“Come in,” he moaned into my mouth, “or dear God, I’ll have to have you right here on the street.”
He tucked my hand in his and led me up the side passage and through the open back door to his kitchen. He took my coat. “Sit here a minute. Let me just talk to Jan. I think she can go home a little early today.” He winked, and I blushed. I welcomed the moment alone to pull myself together. When they walked back into the kitchen together, I realised why Jack had been so surprised I hadn’t realised they were related. They really did look very similar, and their eyes were perfectly matched.
“This is Emma.”
“Hey, Emma,” Janet said. She reached out, and I shook her hand.
“This is my sister, Janet. She’s just going home.”
“See, you, Emma.” She smiled. “Are there any leftovers I can have, Jack?”
“My cakes aren’t leftovers, you brat, but yes, take the fresh cream ones. There are two or three, I think.”
“Thanks, brother dearest.” She punched his arm then pulled on the coat he offered her. “I’ll lock up on my way out. See you in the morning.”
“She seems nice,” I said, as she walked out into the shop.
“I am,” she yelled. “It’s my brother you have to watch.”
Jack shook his head and walked over to me. He bent to kiss me, and I clung to the front of his shirt, dizzy with desire. I vaguely heard the tinkle of bells somewhere in the background. Everything was background, even me. Jack was the only thing that mattered, and his kiss was taking me over. He enveloped me in his embrace, and I clung on to him for dear life. I wanted to set adrift in his kiss, but I needed the moment to end because I had things to say, hard things, and I was determined to say them.
“Let’s go upstairs,” he whispered, and I nodded.
“I have to tell you some things, Jack. It’s important.”
“All right, sweet thing,” he replied and gently rubbed my back as he let me walk up the stairs before him.
We walked into his living room. It was pretty bare, with just a sofa and a TV and a radiator on the wall. I wondered where he kept all his stuff. It was eerie, the emptiness of the room.
“I don’t spend much time in here,” he said, as if he’d read my mind. Maybe he realised how weird it looked, how empty of emotion. “When I’m not in the kitchen, I’m sleeping, mostly. I don’t get much time to watch the TV.”
He sat beside me on the sofa.
“What do you want to talk to me about?” he asked.
“I’ve done a lot of thinking these past few days, Jack, and I need to come clean with you. I’ve not been ill. I was just kinda freaked out.”
“I thought so,” he nodded. “You needed space, yes?”
“Yes, what happened the other day with me and you, it was…it was intense, and I needed to think about a lot of things.” I took a long deep breath. He didn’t talk. He just rested his hand on my knee and looked at me.
“I guess, I better start from the beginning.” I took a deep breath and continued. “I’ve always known I’m submissive. I’m not one to cause a fuss, I’m not a leader, I like to have someone else organising my life. Anyway, I found out that I’m submissive sexually, too.” I blushed, but as I talked, it became easier to continue. “I’ve only experienced the odd moment of it though. The few men I have had those kind of relationships with have been very vanilla, and the occasional spank was seen as a bit of fun. I could never ask them to spank me properly or tie me up because they’d freak out.
“When I met John, my last boyfriend, I thought he’d be different. He seemed so in charge, in control, but it turned out when I revealed my deep desire to be dominated, he saw it as a psychological deficiency. He told me it was my lack of confidence talking, that a real man would never raise his hand to a woman, that a real man wouldn’t ever be so uncouth. I was disappointed, but I let him convince me he was right.”
Jack squeezed my thigh but continued just to listen.
“I thought he was the one I’d marry. He was the one who’d teach me to enjoy ‘normal’ sex. I did enjoy it, but I always felt something was missing. Anyway, the point is that John is no longer in my life. Over a year ago, he was killed in a hit and run accident. He was killed. I survived.”
“Oh, Emma,” Jack exclaimed. He shook his head and ran his hand soothingly up and down my leg.
“I was messed up, physically, mentally and emotionally. Still am, really. It’s why I don’t work. It’s why I didn�
�t step out of my flat for six months. It was the smell of this shop that helped me out of my home. One day, I decided I had to go out. I couldn’t stand being inside any longer. I hadn’t gotten far when my legs began to quake, and my heart began to race. I felt so scared just walking a few feet away from my flat. I caught the scent of this place, and it pulled me on. I wanted to find out where the delicious smell was coming from, and I ended up outside your window. I repeated that walk every day, enjoying the scent then feasting visually on the cakes in your window.”
“I always wondered,” he muttered then smiled encouragingly.
“So then I met you. That day, I’d heard something that took me back to the accident. I was freaking out. You were so good to me, and I was, well, Jack…” I stumbled. It was difficult to express my emotions for him. It was so much more personal than telling him about my life before Jacques and Jack. “I was attracted to you. I felt all kinds of guilt with that, but then when you, when we, when we were together on your table and up here and you dominated me…you bound me, spanked me and made me call you Master. When you did that the guilt just built up. It was wrong. It had to be wrong. John always said it was wrong. And what had I done? I’d betrayed his memory by shagging some man who sent me back to my pre-enlightened days. I liked being submissive.” I sighed and licked my lips. “I freaked out again and tried to break away, but finally, I worked out that I don’t want to break out. This is my life, now. I cannot live in the past. I don’t care if what I want makes me a damn pervert. I want to be dominated and I want to be dominated. By you.” I added the last line quietly, still scared to admit it out loud.
He pulled me into his warm embrace and kissed me. His reaction took me by surprise, but I enjoyed it, and I could feel intense emotion in his kiss.
“Sweetheart,” he said. “Oh sweetheart, I wish I had known. I would have tried to have done things differently, slower. I love your submissiveness. I love dominating you. I’ve missed you so much the last few days. It freaked me out, too. We barely know each other, but I clicked with you. I felt so right with you, and I want that to continue.”
Spiced Vanilla Page 4