Under His Touch

by Jeffe Kennedy

  She’d lost that Alice-in-Wonderland mien early on—though when he’d fetched her, she’d looked disconcertingly like a teenager dressed for prom—and now she simmered under his touch. All sensual woman.

  Demanding even as she obeyed him.

  Moaning in encouragement as he ran his tongue over her satin flesh.

  The taste of her both fueled his rapacious hunger and filled him with a pervasive dread that he might never get enough of her, that no matter how much he indulged in her, satiated every sense with her company, he would be forever starved for more. That, when she inevitably moved on, she’d leave him even more empty than he’d been these last couple of years.

  Due penance for succumbing to his craving for her.

  All the more reason to take whatever she offered, to glut himself on her and shunt aside the prospect of that dismal future.

  He nibbled his way up her throat, a fleeting thought crossing his mind that he should pay attention to her sensitive spots, which undid her the most. He lost it again in the pounding haze, as if he’d become some sort of sexual berserker and had lost the ability to do anything but feast on her. Taking her sweet mouth again, he devoured her flavor—cream, roses, lipstick and something essentially her that reminded him of new leaves in spring or the fresh bite of a slightly green banana.

  Bite. Inhale. Consume.

  She moaned, an agonized sound, and he recovered himself enough to relax his hold, thinking her neck might be getting sore, but she fastened her blurred gaze on his and parted her smudged lips. “More,” she demanded.

  Never mind that, under the rules, she should not be directing him. This might not last beyond the one night. If it did, he’d torment her with the games of will and discipline. In the blaze of this moment, he had little ability to deny her much at all—or himself. Picking up the cannoli, he held it to her soft lips. Holding his eyes, she opened suggestively wide and gently licked at the end, then sucked the pastry deeply into her mouth, keeping it there so he could see, before closing down on the too-large bite.

  The brittle crust shattered, pieces going everywhere. Overcome, he fastened his mouth over hers, taking some of it, the sugar explosion somehow electrifying through the sensual miasma, making his already throbbing cock painfully hard.

  He could have her here. Bend her over the remains of their dessert, pull down the tease of her lingerie and plunge into her. She would let him. More, she encouraged it, moving her body in supplication, making those pleading sounds deep in her throat, her mouth feeding on his, tongue stroking him, urging him deeper, wordlessly begging him to take more.

  God knew he wanted to.

  But not here.

  Not for their first time together. Maybe later—if this lasted any time at all—he’d bring her back here and have her in all sorts of deviant ways while people politely dined outside. He might make her believe he’d left the privacy off and titillate her with the thrilling fear of being discovered helplessly bound and exposed to his desires.

  Sentimentality aside, that sort of suspense wouldn’t work on her tonight—she was too far gone to know it, and that sort of premise relied heavily on her awareness of the world around her. He could likely march her naked through the restaurant and she wouldn’t notice. In fact it took her a long moment to realize he’d stopped kissing her and stood them up, steadying her as she swayed, waiting for her to come back from that dark, dreamy pool and focus on his face.

  “What—”

  “Turn around.” He undid the tie around her wrists and put it back on, knotting it simply. “We’ll continue this at my place. Do you need to check in—send one of your emojis to tell Kiki that you’re okay?”

  “Yes.” She looked around for her bag, as if she’d forgot its existence entirely, delightfully unaware of how gorgeous she looked in her black lingerie and high heels. Finding her phone—girlishly bedecked with a pink rhinestone case—she swiped the screen, then gave him a hesitant look. “Am I...staying the night?”

  “As far as I’m concerned.”

  She smiled, dazzling, and selected a symbol, sending it with a whooshing sound effect. Then put the phone back in her beaded clutch and reached for her dress.

  “Did I tell you to put your dress back on?” He deliberately made the question softly menacing. She stiffened, roses blooming on her cheeks, returning arousal deepening her gaze as her eyes widened, staring back at him without answering. “I asked you a question.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “The correct response should be ‘no, Sir.’”

  “No, Sir.” She breathed the words, her nipples hard through the black lace of her bra. They’d be pink, like her mouth.

  “I want to see your breasts.”

  She reached behind her for the hook.

  “No,” he snapped, making her flinch. “Pay attention to what I tell you to do, understand?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, not at all the picture of obedience. Torn between laughing and tossing her over his knee for a brisk spanking, he kept his expression stern and raised a cool eyebrow at her.

  “Yes, Sir,” she replied and waited. Better, though she looked impatient. Hell, so was he.

  “Kneel down.”

  A tremor ran over her, excitement on her face, and she knelt. So fluid and supple.

  “Without taking off your bra, pull down the lace and tuck it under each breast, one at a time. Then put your hands behind your neck, under your hair, back arched.”

  She obeyed, fingers shaking. Penetrating her mind now, how she would look. That she’d be displaying herself because he commanded it. More of an edge to it, with the dose of reality and distance. She’d have to be wondering just how far he’d ask her to go.

  But she hadn’t pulled out either safeword, so full steam ahead.

  Good thing he’d sat again as so much blood fled to his groin at the sight of first one perfect breast and then both that he went a bit dizzy. When she submissively put her hands behind her neck and arched as he’d instructed, his vision sparked at the perimeter. Impossibly perfect globes, with flawless pale skin drawn tight by her crinkled nipples. Anything but meek in her demeanor, however, she stared at him in proud challenge, blue eyes hot and bold.

  “Very nice,” he told her. “Leave your bra as it is, but put the dress back on and summon the waiter. Then sit in your chair, fold your hands in your lap and sit up straight. When the waiter comes in, I want you to look him in the eye and think about how it would have gone if I asked him to come in right now. Imagine telling him about what I made you do and how much you liked it. Don’t say anything. When he asks you how you enjoyed your meal, I want you to look at me and tell me how much you liked this exact moment. Go ahead.”

  A little unsteady, she climbed to her feet, naked breasts bobbing, and pulled the dress over her head. She struggled with the zipper and he let her, enjoying the way she shimmied and imagining how the stiff silk bodice might be stimulating her nipples. With the dress finally in place, she crossed to the door, sliding him an unreadable glance as she did, turned off the privacy again, hit the call button and sat, following instructions perfectly. Though the impish gleam in her eye belied the ladylike impression.

  The waiter entered and she blushed, exactly as he’d hoped, then wriggled in her chair, so overcome he thought she might not be able to pull it off. But she managed to look the man in the eye and smile.

  “How was everything, miss?”

  Amber transferred her gaze to his, with such searing sensuality that he nearly fumbled his wallet. “So amazing it left me starving for more.”

  Alec managed to pay, signal the driver and offer her a hand out of her chair, then draped his topcoat over her shoulders. Pleasing himself with arranging her hair over it, honey gold against the black, he bent and kissed the side of her neck, thrilled at her shiver of response.

 
; “Please tell me you’re going to fuck me tonight,” she whispered, as if speaking softly kept her from breaking the rules.

  “Just for that, I shouldn’t. Perhaps I’ll string you up naked where I can look at you and watch you suffer as I satisfy myself.”

  She looked up at him over her shoulder, leaning back against him. “But you won’t. Not tonight.”

  “Why do you think so?”

  She licked her bottom lip, eyes intent on his. “Because if you are even a tenth as turned on as I am, you won’t be able to help yourself.”

  “Hush.” He took her hand, but instead of lacing his fingers with hers, he wrapped his around her slender wrist, easily encircling it. “When I do this, it means that I expect you to be silent unless specifically asked a question—or to use your safewords, of course—and to obey as if we are in a scene, though we’re in public. When I let go, you’ll behave normally.”

  She bit her lip and nodded, blowing out a sigh between her pursed lips, as if mastering some response. Perhaps her long anticipation added to the charge for her, but he couldn’t recall another woman so devastated by the smallest gestures such as this. Glancing up at him, she smiled, seeming to follow the train of his thoughts with wry acknowledgement.

  Tightening his grip slightly, just to feel her shiver of reaction, he led her out of the restaurant, took his topcoat off her shoulders and handed her into the backseat of the car. The privacy partition remained up and Amber sat demurely, hands folded in her lap, clearly vibrating with anticipation. He flicked on the little cabin light.

  “You can take your dress off again,” he told her, amused to see her start of surprise. She hadn’t expected that and hesitated, eyes flicking to the partition, then the window. “No one but me can see—unless you hesitate again and I’m forced to put down the window to teach you a lesson. Kneel up on the seat facing me and do it. I’ll keep your purse.”

  She looked a bit mulish but gave him her little beaded bag and reached for her zipper again, glaring at him when he refused to help, folding his hands on his knee and smiling pleasantly at her. As the bodice loosened, her bare breasts came into view, bouncing enticingly as she struggled out of the dress, rewarding his gambit and then some. When she had it off, her face and breasts flushed and hair in disarray, he held out a hand for the gown and she gave it to him, looking off balance. Something about this made her nervous more than being in the same state of undress in the restaurant. Interesting.

  “Cross your wrists, in front of you.”

  She started to glance at the partition but stopped herself and obeyed, though her outstretched hands trembled. He took his time folding her dress so it wouldn’t wrinkle, setting it down on his other side, where she’d have difficulty reaching it, should she be so disobedient as to try. Fixed on his movements, she watched him unknot his tie and slide it off, chewing on her lip a little in dismay. He bound her wrists tightly, more so than before to communicate the escalation, and paused when she opened her mouth, expecting at least the slowdown safeword.

  But she searched his face and said nothing, clearly uncertain, but with that open trust she’d offered him so freely from the beginning. Slowly so she’d wonder what he might be doing, he reached into his pocket and drew out a gold hook, cool against his hand, and looped it through the black silk binding her wrists. She frowned a little, curious, then her eyes widened when he lifted her wrists over her head and hooked them to the garment hold.

  She struggled against it, reflexively more than anything. Whatever it was about being in the car that made her feel less in control seemed to be amplified with the vulnerable position. With her arms strained above and behind her, her pretty breasts were even more on display, something she seemed to be aware of, looking down at them and up at him, emotion in her eyes. If he’d allowed her to speak, she’d be pleading with him. It might be nice to know exactly what she’d ask for—or rather, how she’d phrase it—but he suspected being forbidden to use her smart mouth and wit to duel with him contributed to her current predicament, so he’d continue it a bit longer.

  Having her wrists attached that way put her back against the door, so she sat askew on the seat. She nearly flinched when he leaned forward, so he slowed, wondering what she’d been anticipating. Not his hand wrapping around her ankle. She resisted as he lifted it and he raised an eyebrow at her, the expectation implicit. Either yield or safeword. Visibly relaxing herself, she blew out a breath and let him raise her leg so her severely bent knee rested against the seat back, the sharp heel digging into the leather. He picked up the other foot and she whimpered a little when he hooked the heel into the bracket meant to hold a newspaper.

  Splayed for him now, the narrow scrap of black lace riding deeply into the folds of her cunt, she looked charmingly helpless. She wanted to struggle, to close her legs—that much was clear from the way she panted, the flush over her breasts, the half-wild glazed look in her eyes. For a moment, he thought she wouldn’t be able to stand it, would have to do something to adjust the way he’d arranged her.

  But she stuck it through. If she hadn’t pulled it together, he’d have called a halt himself, to make sure she wasn’t simply being stubborn about her safewords. He wouldn’t—not only because she’d passed some threshold, but because stopping without her say-so at this point might trip up the trajectory of whatever internal voyage she’d embarked on. She wouldn’t thank him for interrupting the spell, having reconciled herself to it.

  Her self-discipline somehow soothed him. Or perhaps he felt calmer, more in control now that he knew she wouldn’t back out. At least for tonight, she belonged utterly to him. He could simply ride around all night and have her this way, pliant to his will. Craving another sampling of her skin, he touched her where he hadn’t yet—setting a finger on the inner curve of her thigh by her knee and sliding down the impossibly soft glide of it. Stopping close enough to her open sex to feel the heat, but not enough to touch her.

  She moaned and moved her hips, trying to push herself into his hand, so he pulled it away. Shook his finger at her, in the style of an annoyed professor.

  “Tsk-tsk, Ms. Dolors. One would think you’ve paid no attention to the rules at all, have you?”

  Something like a sob escaped her and she closed her eyes. “No, Sir,” she got out, sounding miserable.

  “Open your eyes and watch,” he ordered, fascinated by how affected she was.

  He set the same finger on her other knee and, with a moan of despair, she fastened her gaze on it, eyes full of desire and a kind of dread. The play of emotions had him so rapt that he watched her face instead of her gorgeously displayed body. The seductive satin of her thigh drew his hand down and she shuddered under his hand. Nearer her crotch, her skin grew sticky with moisture and he stopped when he reached it. Unable to resist teasing more, he paused there.

  “You’re very wet, aren’t you? Have been for some time now.”

  She met his gaze, still blushing fiercely, but her tone had some defiance. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Hmm. A pity to ruin such pretty knickers, but I need to see for myself and you look so lovely I don’t want to move you. Hold still.”

  He reached for the shears he’d stowed in the newspaper rack, hoping for an opportunity such as this—big, showy brass ones. Riveted, she stared as he slid the cool metal just over the top of her mound, letting her feel it.

  And snipped the gusset free.

  Chapter Fourteen

  With a snap, the panties gave way. They’d been cutting with sadistic pressure into her aroused tissues ever since Alec spread her legs like that, fixing them in place with her own stilettos so her feet felt as bound as her hands. Much as the underwire and displaced cups of her bra constrained her breasts, so they ached with the combination of constriction and arousal. The abrupt loosening—along with the cool air on her splayed pussy and Alec’s gaze on her as palpable as a touc
h—nearly sent her into orgasm right then.

  In truth, she’d felt on the verge of orgasm since he’d first undressed her, with his deep kisses and infuriatingly light touches everywhere but where she craved them most. The antithesis of every lover she’d had, who’d all predictably homed in on the hot spots, ignoring the rest of her, Alec seemed frustratingly oblivious to them. Instead he touched her waist, her arm, her throat and now—damn him to whatever hell he’d sprung from—with her pussy naked and desperate to be stroked, she had to suffer without. Worse, he wore that intently interested, slightly supercilious look on his face, as if he enjoyed watching her face as much as anything else.

  And seriously got off on tormenting her.

  He left the scrap of her panties hanging ignominiously around her hips and set the wicked shears aside. Then set that same finger on the inside of the knee wedged against the car seat. With excruciating lightness, he slowly ran the pad down her inner thigh, barely making progress. Seeming to relish the way she couldn’t catch her breath. A high keening noise filled her head and she wasn’t sure if she was making it out loud, but she suddenly lost it, finding herself thrashing against the silk of his tie and sobbing. “Pleaseohpleaseohplease.”

  It had the effect of making him pause, giving her a mock-astonished scowl as he took his hand away. “Oh, Ms. Dolors. That was badly done indeed. Such a simple rule, too.”

  Shaking his head as if disappointed, he sat back and poured himself some champagne, smiling in cool condescension. “We’ll give you a moment to calm down and think about what you’ve done.”

  So cruel, as she’d obviously never be able to calm herself in her current state, especially not bound and displayed this way, with the city going past out the windows and the driver only feet away. She’d expected a great deal—but not such an obliterating mind-fuck. On one level, a (very) small objective part of her brain could appreciate his technique. Her instincts that he’d be both talented and experienced at this had proven right on target. With his devastating combination of romance, understanding, domineering cruelty, voracious hunger and playful teasing, he’d systematically taken her from her usual composed self to...someone else. Some animal state where she had no inhibition but simply responded to his least caress, shattered by the most casual reprimand.