Ruby

by Jeffe Kennedy

  This...this was unreal.

  He started at her left foot, wiping it with a warm cloth that smelled of hothouse roses and ginseng. One by one, he took her toes into his warm, wet mouth, sucking with pressure that arrowed straight to her empty, weeping pussy. He licked between her toes, the arch of her foot, the sweet spot just behind her ankle bone.

  Working with exquisite patience, he traveled up her calf, spending an excruciating amount of time on the back of her knee and then all the way up the inside of her thigh, kissing her deeply in the hollow, unbearably close to her open sex.

  She held her breath, not sure whether to hope he’d lick her there too. Wanting it, knowing she wouldn’t be able to withstand much more. Determined not to break his rules, lest he punish her with the burning oil there again. He lightly bit the stretched tendon there and she whimpered, steeling herself.

  And he moved away.

  Starting over on the other foot.

  She wanted to scream with frustration and he chuckled, clearly reading her like a book.

  “I decide, chère. Perhaps you now begin to understand exactly what that means for a sweet young thing caught in my particular snare.”

  Deliberately, with meticulous patience, he tormented and teased every inch of that leg too. Pausing at her pussy, and leaving it again. When he moved up to her hand, she wasn’t surprised. Just gave herself over to the sensual torture, abandoning any hope of knowing when he’d put an end to this.

  She fell into an undulating pattern of accepting each kiss, nip and caress, like a musical instrument only he could play. When he paused in tormenting her sensitive neck to give her a slow, deep kiss, she received it, drinking in what he chose to give her, holding off the climax that wanted to rush in.

  He lingered over her breasts. No surprise there. But the endless circling was like to kill her. The undersides received extraordinary attention, which no man had ever done, like virgin territory that sprang to life under his ministrations. He licked and kissed in diminishing spirals, coming ever closer to her taut, burning nipples and veering off again to lavish attention on the hollows of her armpits, the space between her breasts and back to the tender undersides. The silky beard added another level of teasing, bringing her blood to the surface with the relentless brushing.

  When he finally touched a hot tongue to one nipple, she clenched her fists, fighting the onrush of yet more stimulation. He sucked it deeply into his mouth, creating tension through her entire breast, tightening her flesh against the confining loop and also relieving the wicked burn of the oil. Then he raised his head, putting a finger on her gasping lips and giving her a stern look.

  “This bit will be tough, but you must not come. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” The words came out as a plea. If he’d let her beg she would be doing it. She didn’t even care that she’d prove him right. The need had become everything.

  “Focus. Don’t disappoint me.”

  She stared at the image of them in the mirror, his tanned, lean body ranging over the bounty of her pale limbs, his dark head lowering to her breast, his clever mouth drawing in her nipple, rolling it with his tongue, his teeth closing over it. And scraping off the silver loop.

  It hit like an electric shock. Blood rushed into her nipple and she bucked, wild with the sensation. She cried out, a long wail of desperation, nails digging into her palms.

  But she didn’t come.

  It seemed as if she never would again, suspended in this place where he only brought her to the edge and then denied.

  “Now the other side.” He grinned wickedly.

  “Oh, no—I can’t,” she begged him, abandoning the rules.

  He didn’t correct her, though. Just rolled the newly released nipple between thumb and forefinger, watching her squirm in feverish need.

  “You will. For me. You want to please me, don’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.” And in that moment, nothing had ever been more true.

  “That’s my good girl. Here we go.”

  With excruciating care, he laved her bound nipple, relieving the burn, sucking it in, the long waves of pleasure rolling through her. It didn’t help knowing what was coming. When his teeth scraped off the loop, she convulsed, muscles nearly cramping with the fierce demand to release into climax.

  “Yes,” he crooned, kissing his way down her fluttering belly, pressing her thighs apart as if they weren’t already as open as they could be. Helplessly, she watched his head sink between them, his breath warm on her swollen tissues. He slid a long finger, slowly, gently into her, a gliding stroke that made her shudder. His tongue followed, light, tender licks on her throbbing labia, never touching her clit.

  Little sobbing whimpers panted out of her, begging for what she wasn’t allowed to, barely penetrating the red haze filling her brain.

  Gradually, she realized he’d stopped and sat, kneeling between her spread thighs, watching her with dark, ferocious eyes.

  “I’m going to fuck you now. Ask me nicely. You may use whatever words you wish.”

  She didn’t want to screw this up, by any stretch. God knew what time it was. “Please, sir. Please fuck me.”

  He trailed a finger through her folds, making her pant. “Are you sorry for being defiant?”

  “Yes. Yes, I’m sorry.”

  “And do you admit that you are mine to do with as I please?”

  “Yes.” She tugged on the ropes. “Look at me—I’m entirely yours to play with, sir. Please, please, take me.”

  “Even if I don’t let you come?”

  Her eyes filled with hot tears and she dropped her head back, staring at her desperate self in the mirror, a moan crawling out of her. If she didn’t come soon, she might die.

  “Even so. You decide,” she whispered.

  “Such a good student.” He crawled up her to snag a foil-wrapped condom from a glass candy dish on the bedside table. He rolled it onto himself while she waited, curiously serene. He untied her ankles, but held them in his hands, pushing her knees back and apart, the position moving the beads inside her, intensifying the buzzing. Leaning in, he rubbed his cock along her slit and she keened, holding on to the edges of her sanity.

  “Look at me,” he ordered. She obeyed without thought. “Beg me.”

  “Please, sir. Please, sir. Please, sir.” She chanted it, arching her back, begging him with her body.

  He slid just inside.

  “This? Is this what you want.”

  “Oh God, yes.” She gritted her teeth.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, sir,” she nearly screamed.

  He sank in an inch, the head of his cock widening her, pressing against those buzzing beads. “Like this?”

  “Yes, oh yes!”

  He started to pull out.

  “Yes, sir, I mean.”

  “Such a good girl. Is this better?”

  “More, please.”

  He seated himself in her, inch by inch, making her beg, over and over for it, breaking down what little mental resistance she’d had left. When he was all the way in, she a shuddering puddle of unmet need beneath him, his hard cock increasing the pressure of the buzzing beads in her rectum, he paused to frame her face in his hands.

  “You are perfect,” he told her. “Perfect in every way.”

  He flexed his hips, pulling mostly out, and she sobbed. He tensed, poised.

  “Come now!” he demanded, slamming back into her.

 
As if his orders commanded her body, the orgasm broke over her like a tsunami. Everything released at once, the giant wall of frustration and denial crumbling under the force of the erotic pleasure he brought her. He pounded in and out of her, pumping the climax through her while she rode the endless, timeless wave of it, the red-black tide rising over her and sweeping her away.

  * * *

  She swam back to herself, barely aware that Prejean was draped over her, panting as though he’d run a race, still deep inside her. The beads had stopped buzzing, but her wrists were still tied. She stretched her legs, wrapping them around his lean waist and squeezing.

  He raised his head, considerately lifting his weight onto his elbows, and kissed her, long and sweet.

  “How are you?”

  “Perfect.” Her voice trembled a little over some raw, deep emotion. “That was intense.”

  “Yes.” His dark eyes were somber. He pulled out of her, holding on to the condom, and padded to the bathroom, returning with a towel, his cock still at half-mast, enticingly full and dark. He untied her wrists. “You can take a shower, clean up. I’ll bring up your bag. And I’ll cook you breakfast.”

  “Breakfast?” she repeated, her mind still foggy.

  He grinned and tossed her the towel. “It’s four-thirty. If you’re to be on time, you’d better shake that sweet little ass or I’ll put it to another use.”

  The hot water helped, steaming her well-used body back into life. She’d thought he’d pull the beads out of her during sex too—thinking that was how it worked—but she ended up being glad to do it in private. Probably if she did that kind of thing again, she’d need to clean herself out first.

  A whole other world that Prejean lived in.

  When she emerged from the shower, she found her purse and a very strong cup of coffee on the vanity counter. It tasted of chicory, cinnamon and sweet cream. Totally decadent. She drank it down gratefully.

  After she fixed her hair, setting the curls to dry naturally, and donned her makeup, she looked around for a robe. Finally she settled for wrapping herself in a towel and padded barefoot toward the enticing smells of breakfast.

  “There she is.” He smiled and came to take her empty coffee cup, setting it on the counter. He drew her into his arms, kissing her in that leisurely way of his, as if they had all the time in the world. The dreamy arousal he seemed able to call up like a magic spell rolled over her, clouding the brief clarity she’d regained. The towel fell away and her skin hummed under his roving hands. “Mmm,” he murmured against her mouth. “Delicious. Sit here.” He helped her onto a barstool with a scrolled back and arms like in an ice cream parlor.

  “I need clothes,” she reminded him.

  “You’ll get them when it’s time.” Picking up a collar from the breakfast counter, he buckled it around her throat and clipped it to a chain attached to a hook. She let him do it in helpless shock, heat pulsing back into her pussy, with ready need. He raised an amused eyebrow at her. “You’re still mine until dawn.”

  “Can I have the towel back, at least?”

  He swiped it up from the floor, tossed it over a couch and grinned at her. “No. I like you this way.”

  So she sat naked, chained to his counter, while he cooked breakfast, sipping on the fresh cup of coffee he gave her.

  “How do your nipples feel?”

  Unaccountably, she blushed, which seemed ridiculous, to feel self-conscious discussing the things she’d readily allowed him to do. “A little sore. They’ll be fine.”

  He crossed to a pantry and handed her a little glass jar. “Put this on them.”

  She cracked the lid and sniffed it. Hothouse roses. Prejean stood on the other side of the counter, drinking his own coffee, watching her expectantly. He raised an eyebrow. “Now, chère. Or do I have to tie you up and do it myself?”

  Huffing out a breath of impatience, she dipped her fingers into the cream and rubbed it into her right nipple, holding his gaze with remote disinterest. The cool tingle of it zinged through her to her reawakening pussy, but she kept him from seeing it in her face. If he meant to bait her, he’d be disappointed.

  He watched, with a half smile, always seeming to read her mind. “Lovely.” He turned back to whatever he had cooking on the stove. A black-and-white tuxedo cat wound through his ankles, then sat back on its haunches, eyeing her with suspicion.

  “I didn’t know you have a cat.”

  Prejean glanced down and ruffled the cat’s fur with his foot. “This is Gary. He’s not used to company, so he tends to lie low.”

  She eyed Gary back and he yawned at her, flipped his tail in disdain and left the room.

  “Do you have any questions?” he asked over his shoulder.

  “Questions?”

  He laughed, low and smoky. “No, not you. And if you did, you’d die rather than admit them to me, right?”

  She shifted a little, not certain why this, too, aroused her. “I thought you’d spank me,” she admitted, trying to sound carefree and confident.

  “I know. That’s why I did something else.”

  “To keep me off balance.”

  “Yes. Besides, a little anticipation never hurts. I like to think of you imagining what it will feel like.”

  Bringing a plate over, he eased himself into the chair next to her and set it on the counter. She eyed it, her stomach leaping into furious, savage life. An exquisite crepe, perfectly golden, sat before her, drizzled in a chocolate-colored sauce and studded with fresh raspberries. He forked up a bite and held it out, his intent clear.

  “Now you’re going to feed me?”

  “Yes,” he returned in all seriousness. “As often as you’ll let me. Open for me.”

  The way he said it, with that sexy, stern tone of command, went straight through some short-circuit in her brain and she obeyed before she thought of refusing. The crepe dissolved on her tongue like golden cotton-candy, the raspberry perfectly tart and the sauce just slightly bitter enough to round out the flavor with a singing sensation, like the low notes of a wind chime on a hot afternoon.

  “Oh my God.”

  He grinned. “You’re welcome.”

  Bite after bite, she ate all of it, body both replete and aroused, floating in a bliss of sensual delight while he fed her with rapt attention. When she savored the last bite, he set the plate aside and tucked a curl behind her ear, regarding her gravely.

  “I want to see you again.”

  The dreamy haze faded with an abrupt snap. She glanced at the kitchen clock—five-fifteen. Her coffee had barely cooled. She should say no. One-night stands were called that for a reason.

  She found herself already shaking her head. “I can’t.”

  “No?” He stood, cocking his head to one side. Rotating her barstool a little, her tether pulling tight, he lifted one of her knees and looped it over the scrolled arm. The sense of unreality immediately gripped her, the desire roaring up and crowding out any thought. He did the same with her other thigh, opening and exposing her.

  Looking thoughtful, he pulled open the lips of her pussy, slick and full with wanting more of him. “No?” he repeated, eyes flicking up to echo the question. “Maybe you can.”

  “I’m not here for long and I—” She lost the words on a rushed breath when he slid two fingers inside her, pressing on the upper wall of her vagina, sending a bolt of near-orgasm through her. “Oh, please!” she gasped.

  “All right,” he agreed with a lazy smile, �
��since you ask so nicely.”

  He opened his robe, his cock high and hard, and plucked a condom from a crystal dish on the counter. Did he keep them everywhere?

  “I have to go soon.”

  “I know what time it is.”

  Hands bracing her hips, he slid her to the edge of the chair and held her in position, poised at her entrance. Pressing into her to the hilt, he paused for a moment, eyes closing with a somber expression, nearly of pain. Then his dark eyes snapped open, surprising her with the sudden intensity. He stroked in and out of her, sending long, rolling waves of pleasure from her curling toes to the top of her skull. She looped her hands behind his neck and dug her fingers into his silky curls, arching her back to take him deeper.

  Within moments he’d driven her to nearly the same level of frenzy as before. Maybe it had never really abated, just leveled off into a temporary relief, as if he’d somehow elevated her sexual awareness into another plane of existence, where her body caught on fire at the least glance of those Cajun eyes, the barest caress of his artistic hands.

  He slowed, barely moving. “Tonight,” he demanded. “Say you’ll see me tonight or I stop now.”

  “That’s not fair,” she panted.

  He stopped, as threatened, ignoring her groan of protest and the way she dug her nails into the back of his neck. “I never play fair. You should know that by now. Tonight. Say yes.”

  “I’m only visiting. A few days. That’s all.”

  “I’ll take all I can, then. Every drop, Ruby. Tell me you’ll do as I say and see me again tonight. Every night that you’re in my city, you’re mine.” He stroked in and out of her, slow and easy, unbearably intense. Too slow. “Tell me yes.”

  Into the abyss and beyond. Only for this week. Why not?

  “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter Seven

  After that brain-rattling session, and by five forty-five, he led her, still naked and wearing the collar, into a guest bedroom. While he opened an antique armoire, Dani surveyed the very feminine room with great interest and not a little cynicism.