by Kit Tunstall
He nodded. “Why don’t I send for a bottle of wine and a plate of cheese, and we’ll relax for a while?
Maybe later, we’ll want to have dinner in one of the three restaurants.”
“That sounds like a plan.” She rolled her tight shoulders. “I think I’ll have a hot bath while we wait for the wine.”
Teague waved his hand. “You have plenty of time.”
When she emerged an hour later, freshly bathed and still warm from the Jacuzzi, wearing only a white silk robe, she found Teague sprawled across the overstuffed sofa. Two glasses of wine were on the table in front of him, as was a medium-sized gift box, wrapped with a green satin bow. She frowned. “What’s that?”
“Scharzhofberger Auslese. It’s not the most expensive wine Castle Phantasie stocks, but it’s a respectable vintage—”
Jakarta rolled her eyes. “Not the wine. I’m talking about the box.”
He smiled. “Oh, that’s a present for you.”
Her frown deepened. “I thought we agreed to exchange our gifts Christmas night, when we get home?”
He shrugged. “So I smuggled along a tiny one. Shoot me.” He patted the cushion beside him. “Come on and open it. You know you want to.”
She couldn’t resist the allure of the package, or the teasing glint in his eyes. Jakarta went to the sofa and sat down beside him. She frowned when she realized his lighthearted façade hid a deeper layer of tension. His gaze was watchful, and his hand wasn’t quite steady when he lifted a glass to sip the pale Riesling.
She had a stirring of unease when she pulled off the bow and lifted the lid. His indrawn breath of anxiety was barely discernable over her gasp when she peeled back the tissue paper to find a pair of white furry handcuffs. Stricken, she looked up at him. “What the hell is this?”
“A gift.” All trace of teasing was gone. He sounded deadly serious, and grim lines bracketed his mouth.
She dropped the box on the table, anxious to rid herself of the sight of the cuffs. They were too much like the pair her ex-husband liked to confine her with, right before he had sex with her. Of course, his had been the real thing, strictly police issue, to accompany his job as a detective. “Why would you ever get me something like this?”
“It’s a gift,” he said again, no less somber, “But more for me than you.”
She shook her head, bewildered. In two years, Teague had never once given her any indication that he liked to play the sort of perverse control games Darien had enjoyed. She started to get to her feet, feeling the need to escape. His hand shot out quickly, clamping around her wrist. She struggled to pull free.
“Don’t fight me, Jak. I won’t hurt you.” He looked sad, rather than demented.
She cast a wild-eyed glance at the cuffs. “Oh, yeah? Then why did you bring those?”
“Desperation,” he said quietly.
His tone caught her attention, and she stopped struggling. “What?”
Teague’s eyes captured hers, and the pain in them cut through her. “I can’t keep going like this, not knowing what tomorrow will bring, knowing you don’t trust me.”
She shook her head. “I do trust you.”
He grimaced. “No, you don’t. You trust me more than you trust any other man, which I know is difficult for you, but it isn’t enough.” His grip eased on her wrist, and he lifted her other hand, pressing hers between his. “I need to know you trust me completely, Jakarta. If you can’t commit to a future right now, I need to believe there’s at least a possibility that you can someday.”
“I…” She trailed off before uttering a reckless promise.
“You say you love me.”
She nodded, but he ignored her.
“Love and trust go hand in hand. I’m asking you to give me one night to show you can trust me. I need more than the verbal assurance that you do. I need proof.”
“What kind of proof?” Her stomach churned with nausea, and the cuffs drew her eyes once more.
“I want you to surrender control to me.” He dropped one of her hands and leaned forward to pick up the cuffs. “These are flimsy, meant only for lovers’ games. It’s the symbolism that matters, Jak. I want you to wear these for the rest of the night and let me do whatever I want to you.” He closed his eyes briefly, as if gathering strength. “And I want you to do this because you trust me, not because you want to placate me.”
Her eyes burned with tears. “What if I can’t do that?”
He looked down. “As I said, I can’t keep doing this.” Teague straightened. “It all comes down to tonight, Jak. The decision is yours. I know how bad things were for you, and I know what he did to you. Hell, I was there beside you in the courthouse hall when he threatened to kill you after the judge granted the divorce.” He squeezed her hand. “I know what I’m asking of you, but I need this.”
Yes, he had been beside her. From the first day she went to his office to hire him to handle her divorce, she had always been able to count on Teague. Jakarta frowned, realizing how much she had relied on him, especially in the first few months after her divorce was final. Darien had never made good on his threat, but Teague had hovered beside her, protecting her, and giving her his support.
As their relationship changed, she became emotionally stronger, and his support hadn’t wavered. It had only changed to accommodate her newfound independence. He had never tried to stifle that. The only thing he had ever asked was for her to trust in their future, and she couldn’t do that. It brought a lump to her throat to know he thought she didn’t trust him, just because she didn’t trust in marriage any longer.
It was easier than she expected to take the cuffs from him and fasten one around her wrist. “Just because I don’t want to attach a label to us and be bound to a future that might not turn out as we expect doesn’t mean I don’t trust you.” She swallowed. “If you need this to prove I do trust you, then I’ll do my best to give it to you.”
He nodded, reaching for her other wrist. Jakarta surrendered it to him, squeezing her eyes shut when he snapped the fur manacle around her other wrist. She had a momentary recollection of the bite of steel cutting into her flesh deep enough to bruise, but that faded when she pulled on the cuffs. They were loose, hanging more like bracelets than handcuffs. The chain holding them together was plastic, and she could break it with little effort.
She looked up and met his eyes, licking her lips. “Now what?”
He put his arm around her, pulling her closer. “I just want to hold you for a little while.”
She scooted closer, trying to remove some of the tension gripping her body. The brush of faux fur against her wrists was meant to be sensuous, but it was a forceful reminder that she had surrendered total control to her lover for the night. If she changed her mind or panicked, their relationship would be over.
Slowly, she turned her head to rest her cheek against Teague’s chest. The soft cashmere of his blue sweater was comforting, as was the way he stroked his hand up and down her arm. Her mouth was still dry, and she attempted to swallow. “I’m thirsty.”
Teague leaned forward to retrieve her untouched glass of wine, bringing it to her lips with deliberate movements. She tilted her mouth to drink, as he brought up the base of the glass. She sensed the wine rushing forward and jerked away without thought, fearing she would choke.
She knew she had made a mistake when she looked up to see the sadness in his eyes. She wondered if he would end things right then. He studied her for a moment before leaning forward. Wine dripped down her chin and into the cleavage of her robe. His tongue traced a path from her lips, down her neck, and to the V where the robe gapped.
Jakarta shivered at the light touch, and her nipples pressed into the silk when he flicked open the lapels with one hand and burrowed his face between her breasts. His tongue swiped away the last of the wine before tracing lazy circles over her skin, moving ever closer to her right nipple, without making contact.
She longed to bury her hands in his hair, but when she t
ried to lift her wrists, his other hand grasped the chain between them, preventing her from moving. His tongue continued working toward her nipple, finally arriving at the nut-brown peak. He drew it into his mouth, and she moaned with pleasure. Teague bit down gently, and she squirmed. Her hands tried to rise again, but he applied enough pressure to keep them in place against her stomach.
He traced her nipple with the tip of his tongue, pausing to flick rapidly over the tip. As she shifted her weight, his free hand moved under her left breast. He cupped it, rubbing his thumb across her neglected nipple. It responded immediately by hardening further, seeking more of his light touch.
He lifted his head to meet her eyes, while lowering her hands from her stomach to her lap. “Do you know how much I love that robe?”
“Yes. I wore it for that reason.” It had been a gift from him last Christmas.
Teague squeezed her breast once more before letting his hand drift lower, to span her soft stomach. “The white is such a stunning contrast to your beautiful skin.” He moved his hand in a circle over her stomach. “Your creamy, milk-chocolate skin.”
A grin twitched at her lips. “Are you going to eat me or make love to me?”
He leaned closer to her face, rubbing his nose against hers. “Both, my love, but first…” He trailed off, getting to his feet, much to her disappointment.
She eyed him uncertainly, longing for him to continue what he had started. “First, what?”
His eyes raked from her shoulder-length tight curls to her bare feet, tipped with light-pink toenails. “I’m going to play with you, and you’re going to sit there, without moving.”
She lifted a brow. How difficult could that be? “Okay.”
He grinned, but his smile wasn’t entirely cheerful. It held a hint of something indefinable that lifted the hairs on the back of her neck. “I’ll be right back. I have to get a few things.”
As Teague went to their luggage, Jakarta changed her position, easing back against the thick cushions in an attempt to get more comfortable. She had a feeling she would be sitting there for a while. Her muscles were stiff, but it was impossible to relax without knowing what he planned to do to her.
He returned quickly with a green plastic case, which he set carefully on the cushion beside her. He didn’t open it. Teague turned away from her to push aside the coffee table, but brought back her glass of wine, which he placed on the floor.
When he lifted his hands to her face, she realized he held a white scarf. “What’s that for?” Even as she asked, he was placing it over her eyes and knotting it at the back of her head. “Teague?” She couldn’t hide the panic in her tone, and her first instinct was to get away.
He put a hand on top of her head. “Shh, just relax.”
She tried to, but it was difficult just sitting there, not able to see what would come next. She flinched when something touched her lips, until she realized it was her wine. She opened her mouth and dipped her tongue inside the rim, to gage where the level was. The crisp, fruity wine welcomed her tongue, bringing with it a slight tang. It flowed into her mouth in the perfect amount. She swallowed, and he withdrew the glass without her choking.
His hands disappeared from her body for a moment, and then they were untying the sash of her robe, before pushing it off her front. It pooled on either side of her legs, leaving the front of her body naked to him.
She stiffened when she heard him open the mysterious case with a click. Seconds later, something cool touched her chest. It was small and metallic. Jakarta gasped when it raked over her nipple. “What is that?”
“No questions,” he said in a firm tone. He didn’t sound angry, but he was clearly establishing the rules. “In fact, there won’t be any talking at all, unless you need me to stop. If so, I want you to say, ‘fantasy.’ If you do, I’ll stop right away, to ask you if you want to continue with something else, or if you want to end this completely.”
She knew he meant the game they were playing, but her heart read the more ominous meaning he could infer. If she stopped him, she might as well pack her bags and leave without looking back. It was over between them. Considering how aggressively she had fought the notion of establishing something more permanent, the idea of never seeing him again frightened her more than she would have expected. “I understand.”
His fingers were gentle as they tweaked one of her nipples. “You’re allowed to moan and make breathless cries of pleasure, of course.”
She almost giggled at his silliness, but caught herself. She didn’t know if that was an approved sound. “Okay.”
He touched her lips. “Shh.” Then his fingers were back at her nipple, along with the metal thing. As he slipped it over her sensitive flesh, she recognized a nipple clamp. Her stomach churned when she remembered previous experiences with similar items. Darien had delighted in tightening it to the point of agony, despite her pleas for him to stop.
Just like the handcuffs, Teague barely tightened the clamp. It was just to the point where she could feel pressure, without any pain. He did the same to her other nipple, and she relaxed slightly.
He dipped his head, and his tongue laved one of the swelling peaks, eliciting a moan. Jakarta pressed her hands together, striving not to move as he worked her nipple with his mouth, before grazing it with his teeth.
The sensation was short-lived. Teague took something else from his box, and she jumped with surprise when many thin quills brushed over her thigh. She almost asked what it was, but held back.
He must have decided to reward her restraint with an explanation. “This is a bamboo whip.” He brought the bristles to her hand, brushing the tips against her fingers. “It can be sharp if I poke you with it, and it stings when used the old-fashioned way, but it has an interesting texture.”
She had to agree, when he drew the ends down her left breast, pausing to brush the bristles against one of her supersensitive nipples. It almost hurt, without crossing the line into pain. She didn’t know if she was relieved or disappointed when he brought it lower, down her stomach, and back to her thighs.
She stiffened when he slapped her across the thigh. The bamboo bristles left a sharp sting behind. That didn’t surprise her, but the way her pussy creamed did. She squirmed without thinking, earning another strike.
“Stay still, Jak.”
She nodded, and then wondered if that was a forbidden movement. He didn’t acknowledge it, but she decided not to push his rules.
The bristles went lower, and his hand slipped between her thighs to push them wider. Then the bamboo strands feathered across her mound, catching curls and tugging them lightly. The tips stung just a bit, especially when they slid down her slit and brushed against her clit. She let out a startled yelp, even as his finger followed in the wake of the whip to soothe her clit.
He caressed her with small circles, while the whip forged ahead, tracing a line down the inside of her thigh. It paused at her knee, and his fingers left her pussy. She felt him get closer as he knelt on the floor and lifted her leg. The sting of the bamboo tips carried down her leg, to her ankle. She stiffened when it went across the arch of her foot. Jakarta couldn’t hold in a cry when he brought it against the sole of her foot with a resounding slap. The sting lingered, even as he withdrew the whip.
Her stomach quivered when she felt the spines brushing up her other leg, but the tips didn’t rake her skin.
She dug her nails into her hands when he brought the whip against her pussy. Her eyes widened when he pressed the smooth wooden shaft a couple of inches into her opening. She was wet and more aroused than she could believe, and the handle had easy entry. He teased her by thrusting it into her a few times before taking it away.
She heard him rummaging in his case and hoped that was the last of the bamboo whip. Her foot still stung from where he’d swatted her. She didn’t want to imagine how her butt would feel if he chose to spank her with it. To her relief, he grasped her breast and removed the nipple clamp from her right nipple.
Blood flow returned with a vengeance, and it stung, but in a pleasurable way. He released the other clamp too.
Before she could bask in the relief, he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking forcefully. Spasms shot through her pussy at the increased sensitivity. When he bit her with gentle force, she cried out. The feeling was intense, but more pleasurable than painful. While his mouth devoured her nipple, his fingers alternately squeezed and released the other, working her into a frenzy. She arched her back, and he pressed a hand against her stomach, reminding her to return to her appointed position.
She leaned back, gritting her teeth to withstand the sensations overwhelming her. Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, Teague lifted his head and released her nipple. She whimpered, not sure if she protested his withdrawal, or if she was thankful for it.
She cocked her head slightly when she heard a buzzing sound. The origin of the sound moved lower, until something muffled it. She stiffened when a cool object pressed into the opening of her pussy, before gliding up to tease her clit.
“The batteries in this vibrator should be good for a long while,” Teague said softly. He circled her clit with the tip of the vibrator, chuckling when she groaned.
Jakarta couldn’t keep her thighs from trying to close, but he refused to let them. With a sudden movement, the vibrator left her clit and entered her pussy, as deep as it would go. Her pussy immediately convulsed in sympathy with the vibrations.
“That might be set too high,” he said. The vibrations lessened, until they were barely noticeable. “I just want you to feel it, love. I don’t want you coming yet.” He cupped her pussy, bringing her lips together around the vibrator. “In fact, you aren’t allowed to come until I say so. If you’re about to, I need you to let me know. Since you can’t talk, you’ll have to lift your hands. If I see you do that, I’ll stop what I’m doing until you’ve regained control.”
Jakarta nodded to show she understood, and he didn’t reprimand her for the movement. It was all she could do to manage the action, as the low buzz of the vibrator sent shockwaves through her. There was no ignoring the way it increased her arousal and tried to coax an orgasm from her. Since he had it turned so low, all it succeeded in doing was torturing her into a fever pitch. She ached for release, and the vibrator had been inside her only a few minutes.