by Mercy Walker
How could I resist?
As I came back to Gabriel I felt a little bad. His beautiful cock had deflated somewhat, and was now only a semi hard seven inches dangling between his legs. I guess the prospect of having his not-so-little drawer of carnal delights used on him instead wasn’t that good of an aphrodisiac.
Undaunted I circled around him, tapping my fingernails against the highly polished wood of the paddle. A little thrill ran through me as I remembered how much he’d enjoyed both times he’d smack my ass.
I swung around unexpectedly and walloped the right cheek of his impossibly beautiful bottom. His entire body jerked, his hard muscles clenching impressively, his arms pulling down hard on the handcuffs—his legs turned stiff and jerked apart a bit.
I suddenly wondered if he had a pair of ankle restraints in his drawer of delights. I would have liked to see those wonderfully well developed leg muscles strain against some leg irons, like his splendid arms and shoulders were doing with the chains and handcuffs.
I swung the paddle and made rather loud contact with his other cheek. His reaction was a little less animated, but I could tell he wasn’t enjoying this at all.
At least that’s what I thought, until I circled him again and found his ample endowment tumescent and twitching, rising from his hips like the mast of a ship.
I took the paddle and gently stroked it down the length of Gabriel’s manhood. It jounced and jerked, and I saw discomfort in his expression. But when he looked up into my eyes, I saw raw need blazing in his eyes. Whatever he personally, logically thought about being the bottom in this scenario, deep down it seemed that part of him wanted to be dominated.
At least for now.
Well, whatever the billionaire wants…
I ran the paddle over more of his supple flesh: over his belly and chest, up over his neck and then down his back. And then back to his now rubicund bottom. The tight, perfect orbs of his ass were mottled with flaming red, like the cheeks of young Russian ice skaters after a competition. So very adorable.
I laid into him a few fast times, this time staying to just one cheek. His body stiffened, and he cursed under his breath, but he didn’t ask me to stop. The butt cheek in question was crimson red now, and looked sore to the touch.
I circled him again, this time gliding the wood of the paddle over his flesh the entire trip. His body stiffened as the paddle swept over his flesh. His cock was jumping madly, like a puppy begging for a treat. I stopped when the paddle was up under his cock and balls again. His balls were heavy with his seed, and I don’t think I’ve seen a harder erection.
I stood there, staring into his eyes, not moving a muscle. He wasn’t looking at me, but I could see he was squirming. He wanted me to keep going, but it was killing him that I wasn’t. And I knew that he didn’t want to submit. Not that he wasn’t already submitting in a way. No, what he didn’t want to do, and it was etched oh so plainly on his face, was to have to ask me to keep going.
That would be too humiliating. To have to fess up to and ask for the shameful thing that you’ve secretly pined for. That kind of humiliation was hard for most to endure, not to mention request.
But we had hours—I presumed, since he still hadn’t told me where the hell we were going!—and we had the privacy and the accessories for hours more of “fun and games.”
He clamped his eyes shut and I saw his body tremble as his jaw tightened. “Please…” he rasped through gritted teeth.
I stood still as a statue and waited for him to open his eyes and look at me. And finally, with a haughty exhale of his breath, he did. His blue, blue eyes were not only angry and beseeching at the same time…they were bloodshot, as if he had been crying.
That alone tore at my heart a little
Steady…this is just a part…just a con-job. Don’t go buying into your own grift!
But there it was, just looking into the desperate need and sorrow that filled his eyes made me want to throw my arms around him and promise nothing was ever going to hurt him again. Which was utter bullshit! Only a masochist would ever promise that sort of thing, or even try to up hold it.
I swallowed all this silently and came back to the task at hand. I stood there with the implement of Gabriel’s pleasure held up under his turgid length, and waited for him to cave. He stared into my eyes for well over a minute before his gaze wavered and he licked his lips.
“Please,” he said meeting my gaze. “Please do that again.”
I raised my free hand and stroked the side of his face. He closed his eyes and his shame flared on his face in scarlet to match the marks on his rear.
I moved again to behind him and caressed the teak wood over his inflamed flesh. The muscles of his legs jerked and contracted, and the muscular dimples of his glutes stood out.
I swung the paddle again, landing blows with loud smacks, making Gabriel grunt and swear, but still he didn’t say stop, or no, or anything to get me to stop.
His hips began to pull forward, away from my blows, and every razor sharp muscle in his body tensed as he pulled hard on the handcuffs. It was beautiful to behold, and filled me with a fleeting sense of satisfaction. I was causing his pleasure, and his pain. I was pushing him farther into this sexual fantasy than he’d ever gone…and in the opposite direction than he’d ever gone as well.
“Stop!” he hollered in a strangled voice. He was breathing hard, and he was up on the balls of his feet, his hips pitch forward as far as his body would go. “Stop before I…”
“Stop before you what?” I said, stepping in close, so close my lips grazed his earlobe with every word. “Before you come? Before you shoot your load like some schoolboy?”
His eyes were furious, burning with real hatred. That meant I’d hit the nail right on the head.
I smiled at him…I just couldn’t help myself.
I bent over and retrieved my “key” from where I’d dropped it after I’d picked the lock of the handcuffs. I held it up for Gabriel’s inspection and he laughed ruefully.
“A hairpin? Really, those things actually work?”
I popped up on my toes and made quick work of his bonds, and then stepped back as he pulled the handcuffs off his wrists.
“Only if you know how to make it work,” I replied.
Gabriel stood there, splendidly hard with the most hellish gleam in his eyes. He was rubbing his wrists where the handcuffs had dug into them. I had matching marks on my wrists, and it took everything in me not to rub them the same way he was.
A split second later he rushed at me, grabbing me up in his sweat slicked arms and dumping us both on the bed. His lips bruised mine as his teeth nipped and bit at me. His hands were forceful and everywhere it seemed. And before I knew it he’d secured another condom over his manhood and was pushing down into me, pinning me against the soft confines of the king-sized mattress.
I wrapped my arms and legs about him, trying to pull him against me, trying to get as much of him to touch every inch of me. I was on the verge of screaming out my frustration when he looked down upon me, his frosty eyes boring into me as much as his sex was. The look in those eyes was smoldering and real…and it wasn’t just lust.
I gulped and felt a reflection of that look alight on my own face.
I closed my eyes and felt tears well up in my eyes. I couldn’t even think about the words that were suddenly blazing in my head. I wouldn’t think them. They weren’t real. Fucking was real. Laughing, crying, yelling and screaming and fighting were real.
Love was not…
Abruptly Gabriel’s body stopped, and his hand took hold of my face just under my jaw. “Look at me,” he said gently.
I didn’t want to, but my eyes obeyed his request and opened of their own volition.
His eyes were jittery, looking me over and over again until his gaze finally settled on my own, and he leaned down and kissed my lips ever so softly.
“I’m in love with you, Callie Thornton.” He just stared into my eyes, leaving that statement t
o linger like a sudden silence in a symphony.
Don’t even think I’m going to say it back you pompous ass! I’m not some drooling, fawning school girl that’s going to—
“I-I…” No! I am not— “I love you too.”
He captured my mouth with his and started pounding himself in and out of me with a demented conviction. I gasped and felt hot tears streak down the sides of my face, my lower body tightening, readying for another great release. But my heart, that was pounding at a critical pace, and every beat was steeped with both joy and sorrow.
He said he loved me…and I loved him—either that or I was better at this than I thought and was even conning myself. Either way, when the truth came out, when I used what I’d learned to take what we wanted away from him, he would hate me.
And that certain knowledge broke my heart.
4
The voice woke me up. It was deep and dark, and sounded a little like Darth Vader.
“We’re about an hour out from Marco Polo, Mr. Sinclair.”
I groaned, feeling absurdly tired. I wanted to go back to sleep…for another week.
Mr. Sinclair?
I froze as I heard Gabriel’s voice answer Darth. “Thank you Claude. We’ll take breakfast in thirty minutes.”
“Very good, sir.”
It all came back to me. Our carnal date at the symphony the night before. Then handcuffs and chains…and a paddle. I felt my head spin as I remembered that we were on an enormous private jet traveling to a destination unknown…at least, unknown to me.
I opened my eyes and watched as a stunningly naked Gabriel stepped into and pulled up a pair of black dress slacks. I felt myself cringe—a body as beautiful as his should never be covered up. I was still waxing poetically about his creamy epidermis when he turned and looked at me. I sighed as he pulled a blue button down shirt on over his brawny shoulders.
Too bad the lights were so dim. I’m sure his eyes would look amazing with that shirt on.
“The shower’s all yours, Miss Thornton.” There was something almost sarcastic about how he said my name.
“We could conserve water if we shower together,” I said, and then felt myself blush.
He cocked his head and smiled. But his eyes were questioning.
“You are endlessly surprising me.”
“Surprising you?” I leaned up off the bed on my elbow. “You’re taking me to somewhere called Marco Polo. I find that in itself pretty surprising.”
He waved off my inquiry. “It’s an airport.”
I made an oblivious face, but I knew where Marco Polo Airport was: Venice Italy.
I felt a shudder. I’d always wanted to go to Venice…even though technically I’d already been. I’d flown in under the cover of night, was shuttled to a villa just off a quiet little canal where Woody Allen was said to live from time to time…or so said the boat driver in broken English.
I’d left that night, after slitting the throat of a former general and current diplomat from Germany. So I’d never really seen any of the much vaunted Italian Mecca. Just some brackish water, the inside of a luxury hotel, German blood, and then more pitch black water.
So the thought of going to Venice again, and maybe getting to enjoy some of it was nice.
But Callie Thornton didn’t know a thing about an international airport in Europe.
“An airport where?” I asked.
He smiled and buttoned up his shirt, leaning over and kissing me lightly on the lips. “There’s an assortment of toiletries in the bathroom, and hair care products. And a diffuser if you’d like to fix your hair afterward.
I sighed as he turned to leave. Even in black slacks, and with the lights dim, his derriere was fantastic. He stopped right before he got to the door leading out of the bedroom and turned back to me.
“So where did a clerk in a bookstore learn how to pick handcuffs?”
Oh, he’d noticed that.
I shrugged. “I dated a guy my senior year that was a raging youthful offender. His idols were De Niro and Criss Angel.”
His eyebrows knitted for a beat and then he laughed. “Well, you certainly have quite the skill set.”
“Wait till you see me parallel park. I’m hopeless behind the wheel.”
He smiled and left the room. I exhaled and sighed. Thank god he bought that one, because I’d pulled that explanation out of my ass on the fly. Any poking and he’d have found the multitude of holes in my story.
The shower was another large, complicated monstrosity…but damn did it feel good after I got the thing on. I dried my hair this time, did a pretty good job coaxing it to behave. I didn’t want to go around a city like Venice looking like a mess. Then I pulled on my change of clothes. A pair of jeans that fit like a glove, and a very nice silver silk blouse.
So I looked pretty good by the time I made it out to the jet proper again. The flight attendant was just serving Gabriel coffee, a croissant with chunks of cheese and apples.
As I got closer I saw The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo was sitting across from him with just a cup of coffee in her hand.
I stopped and gave her a polite, shy smile. Her expression didn’t change a bit.
“Callie, this is Dora.” Gabriel gestured to Miss Pale and Sullen. “Her family has worked for my family for decades. I believe you’ve already met her father, Grayson.”
My jaw dropped. Handsome, charming Grayson had a daughter like this?
I held out my hand and smiled more broadly. “Your father was so nice to me…what, was that just yesterday?” I looked from Dora to Gabriel and back. She didn’t even try to move, she just stared at me.
“Forgive Dora, she was raised by wolves,” Gabriel said.
She turned her emotionless gaze to him and the slight dipping of her brow might have been her version of a frown.
“She’s also mad at me. She didn’t even know you existed until right before you boarded the plane.”
Dora’s eyes didn’t leave Gabriel for a second, but I do think her eyes brightened with a shade of anger.
“If I don’t give her a week’s warning on all new associates and traveling partners, she gets testy.”
“Why?” I was pretty sure I already knew.
“Dora heads up my security detail. Don’t let her appearance deceive you. She has computer skills Microsoft hasn’t even dreamed of.”
I remembered how she moved earlier, when I first boarded the plane. She has more than just computer skills.
“Sit,” Gabriel said, indicating the seat next to his.
The moment I sat the attendant was there with fresh orange juice and coffee. I took the coffee. She offered me a plate and then pulled up a cart laden with breakfast foods. It was even more than had been at the hotel.
I was starving…nothing like having mind boggling sex for hours to give you an appetite. I took more French toast, a couple pancakes, sausage, bacon, and two piping hot biscuits.
Gabriel watched me with smiling eyes. Dora just sipped her coffee and watched Gabriel.
“So, is anyone ever going to tell me where we’re going?”
Gabriel started to shake his head, but Dora just said, “Venice.” And Gabriel’s fun was officially over.
“Do you mean Venice Italy?”
*****
Marco Polo Airport is on the mainland of Italy. Once one lands you need to cross the lagoon, either that or you can take a bus into the city. One guess as to which conveyance Gabriel Sinclair went by.
The morning sun was just rising as we departed the jet, and was well on its way to painting the world in a brilliant golden glow by the time we started off across the water toward the city.
I’m not one to gush…but it was breathtaking. The ancient buildings, the glorious, near cloudless sky, the rich blues and greens of the water. It made me think of the inside of a woman’s jewelry box: rich and exotic.
Gabriel held onto me as the powerboat cut through the choppy waves with almost no turbulence. I liked how it felt to be by his s
ide. And the warmth of him against me as the cool Mediterranean winds tore at us was a godsend.
Dora was piloting the boat—another of her many skills, so I went the entire trip without once receiving one of her cold stares. We docked in front of The Centurion Palace, and I let my jaw drop in wonder. The place truly was a palace, looking as if it had been built to be the envy of all who laid eyes on it.
“It was the best I would swing in such short notice,” Gabriel said as he helped me up and out of the boat.
“It’s gorgeous,” I said. I cringed inwardly at using the same word to describe the building as I did describing him. But damn it! They were both gorgeous.
Well dressed partygoers were stepping out of other water taxis as we gathered on the dock. They reminded me of the patrons of the Kimmel Center back in Philadelphia…but even better dressed, their clothes not only more haute couture, but far sexier as well.
Dora was shutting down the speed boat when I noticed movement in my peripheral vision. Two large men in suits moving quickly down the walkway from the hotel. They could have been from the hotel…but the way they moved—like predatory animals moving in on their prey—was a dead giveaway. They were pros: hitters I’d bet from the bulges under their suit jackets.
I intentionally didn’t turn and look their way. I couldn’t just pull out a gun and start shooting…I didn’t have a gun. And I still needed to keep my cover in place. Being able to pick handcuffs was one thing. Taking out a couple hit men in broad daylight was another.
I looked to Dora and the congregated muscle Gabriel had with him. I couldn’t believe none of them saw two gun packing gorillas coming our way.
I reached into the pocket of my jeans and pulled out a round cylinder of perfume. I made as if I was going to apply some, and then surreptitiously dropped it just as the two men bore down on us. It rolled just the right way, and gorilla number one stepped on it and stumbled.