Under His Touch

by Jeffe Kennedy

  A measure of reserve he lost by degrees as she came apart, sweet flesh in his mouth, tasting fragrantly of woman and mindless passion. Letting her ride it out, he moved from one breast to the other, salving and stimulating, bracing her as she shuddered and coaxing her back to arousal. When she whimpered, moving her hips pleadingly, he knew she was ready for the next phase. With the knife he kept in his pocket during scenes, just in case quick release became necessary, he sliced through the bra straps and the band in front, giving her trapped breasts some freedom.

  She sobbed a little, mostly relief, looking down at them. “That was really expensive lingerie,” she said, voice full of sensual rockiness from her screaming.

  He laughed, cupping her breast and rubbing her velvety nipple with his thumb. She filled his hand perfectly, full and taut. It hadn’t been easy to wait to touch them, but he’d made it. Conquering her body by degrees.

  “I’ll buy you more, if you like.” If there were more after tonight. “We’ll make a game of it. You can go shopping, take pictures of yourself in the mirror and show me later. Then I’ll go buy my favorite while you wait in the car, and I’ll make you change into it.”

  “At which point that lingerie won’t last any longer than this set did.”

  Sliding a hand behind her neck, he pulled her down to kiss him. Off balance, she fell against him and he followed her. “Then I shall have to buy three sets of each,” he murmured, feeling he could kiss her hot, avid mouth forever.

  “Why three?”

  “One to rip off of you as soon as possible. One to make you wear around the flat for decoration. One for you to wear to the office, so you can think of how I cut something exactly the same off of you.”

  He couldn’t seem to take his hands off of her, but he made himself. She lay on her side, her ankles pulled fetchingly up behind her, watching him with those wide, sex-drenched eyes. Putting his hand on her bum, he stroked it, enjoying the perfectly round curve and how she squirmed with pleasure, fighting the bonds. “Can you get free?”

  “You know I can’t.”

  “Show me.”

  Halfheartedly, she struggled. To encourage her, he put his hand on her mound, the light dusting of silky hairs there drenched with her arousal. “Show me,” he told her, in a harder tone.

  She fought in earnest now, more to get his fingers where she wanted them than anything. A glorious sight.

  “Good girl.” He patted her bottom, tempted to redden that, too. But, despite the way she’d thrown herself into the experience, regardless that he might not get more of her than this night, he thought better of it. Not everyone responded to that kind of punishment the same way. Unhooking the chain that hogtied her, he released her ankles and wrists, too, helping her to sit up.

  He made a tsking sound, which always seemed to get her dander up. “You’re too woozy to walk. Best crawl to the bedroom, don’t you think? That way.”

  He’d shocked her a little with that, just as he had when he suggested he’d make her walk naked into the building, or from the elevator to the door. It rocked her foundations in the most delightful way and he relished how she obeyed, desire suffusing her face as she slid off the couch and crawled on all fours in the direction he’d indicated.

  Picking up the brandy snifters, he followed, wishing he could record her on more than the screen of his mind. Unbelievably beautiful naked, with the black cuffs as obscenely harsh against her translucent skin as he’d imagined. Her pert bottom high in the air, she crawled quickly, but not so fast that he didn’t have an excellent view of her slick and swollen cunt, flushed between her creamy thighs, begging to be repeatedly plundered.

  Desire for her roared up through his head, making him as dizzy as she’d acted. Taking a long sip of the brandy to distract himself, he wondered how he’d manage to satisfy her without spending too humiliatingly soon. Not something a man with a much younger mistress cared to contemplate.

  Coming again would be his best play. At this rate he should have no trouble getting it up a third time. Would she be into being forced to suck him off? Dicey sometimes. But he’d know it if she didn’t really like it. He hoped.

  God knew, his cock strained against his shorts at the image.

  “Kneel there, palms flat on your thighs,” he told her softly when she reached the bed. She looked up at him as he set his snifter down and cupped her chin, holding the brandy to her full bottom lip. “Yes?”

  “Yes, please.” She sipped, eyes of drowning blue on his, her pretty pink-tipped breasts rising below. Rubbing his thumb over her lower lip, he set that snifter down, too. Then smoothed her hair back from her face, studying it. So perfectly yielding, as if she’d been doing this for years. Perhaps she had the right of it, that it came naturally to her.

  “Undo my trousers.”

  Her eyes darkened and her sweet tongue passed over her bottom lip as she reached to obey with all the eagerness he could wish for. A quick learner, she stopped after lowering the zipper and waited, though her gaze was focused on his groin. Feeling a bit desperate, he grabbed the brandy and took another drink of it. Christ, he’d lose it the moment she put her hands on him, much less her mouth.

  At his hesitation, she glanced up, amused. Clearly reading him as well as—or better than—he read her. Sod it all.

  “Suck me off then,” he ordered, setting the brandy aside and making himself think about the damn McCloskey account. Which helped not at all because it reminded him immediately of how she’d smiled when she suggested they could discuss that over drinks, sly and full of that—

  “Holy Christ,” he gasped as she freed his cock and closed her hot mouth over it.

  She worked the shaft with her delicate fingers, taking him deep into the depths of her clever mouth. His balls clenched as she sucked the climax out of him almost instantly. Unthinking, he buried his hands in her hair, held her head and thrust himself into her mouth. Mindlessly emptying himself.

  As the miasma of it cleared, he looked down her, pink lips rounded around his cock as she’d done with the cannoli, eyes enormous in her pale face. Appalled at himself, he let go of her, pulling out of her mouth, though she kept the suction tight, sending a last orgasmic shudder through him as he popped free.

  “I beg your pardon,” he managed and she laughed.

  “Honestly, Alec, you are a piece of work.” She gave him a cherubic smile and flicked a finger at the corner of her mouth, just as she’d licked away the cannoli cream, then sucked on it suggestively. “And you have a beautiful cock. How do you plan to use it on me next?”

  Staggered, he lowered himself to the edge of the bed. “Does nothing shake you?”

  “Plenty.” Seeming to feel released from discipline for the moment—as he supposed she was—she followed him, kneeling up and running slender hands over his thighs, then unbuttoning his shirt. Opening it, she licked at his belly with a hum of pleasure, then glanced up at him, assessing, sensual as a cat. “I’ve discovered I like being shaken off balance as much as I hoped. You haven’t done anything to me I haven’t been starved for, my gorgeous man.” She climbed up him, pushing the shirt over his shoulders and running her hands over his naked chest, then bit his shoulder, the sharp pain clearing his head. “But Alec? If you don’t fuck me sometime in the next century I’m going to lose my mind. I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

  Delighted with her, he cupped her face and held her still for a long, deep kiss. “Then you’d best remove the comforter and pillows and spread-eagle yourself on this bed immediately. Or I shall punish you by making you wait hours more.”

  She sucked in a tight breath and jumped off his lap, tugging the pillows—an arrangement meticulously created by his designer and repeated faithfully each day by his housekeeper—and tossed them willy-nilly. Watching her sleek, nubile body as she crawled over the bed, he pulled his shirt the rest of the way off and p
eeled off his shoes and socks. She pulled the comforter down and scooted into the middle of the black sheets. He’d chosen the color to set off her skin, as the cuffs did, but now he leaned toward gold for her in the future, to complement instead of contrast. Shimmering like her hair and the subtle scattering of fawn freckles he’d found, a treasure on the pale skin of her cleavage.

  Disobediently kneeling in the center of the bed, curls tumbling around her so she looked like a painting of Thumbelina, she looked him over and raised her brows when he refastened his trousers. “Isn’t that the wrong direction? You should be taking them off, too.”

  “Trying to take control, Ms. Dolors?” He made his voice icy. It worked, too, because she shivered, her nipples hardening. “I’m rather distressed by your disobedience and poor attitude.”

  “Sorry, Sir.” She scrambled to obey, spread-eagling herself on the sheets, looking a bit shocked to see herself reflected in the mirror over the bed.

  “Too late for that.” He made a show of looking disappointed, opened a drawer and took out a strap. Carrying it to the bed, he slapped it lightly against his palm and watched her face closely for her reaction. She blanched slightly, showing some trepidation. Also glittering interest. Her eyes flicked from it to his face, searching with earnest innocence, and back to the strap. “Anything to say to me?” He kept it in character of the scene but made the offer sincere.

  She swallowed. Licked her lips. “No, Sir.”

  A surge of something hot and dark filled him. She’d let him strap her adorable bottom. He couldn’t believe his great good luck and welcomed whatever damnation might follow. “Turn over,” he told her softly, loving the way her face showed her nerves, her full and swollen mouth trembling and her eyes dark with sensual anticipation. She spread herself into an X again, without being told. Setting the strap to drape over her bottom so she could think about it, he attached her cuffs with chains to the four posts of the bed.

  Taking his time adjusting them so she’d be evenly displayed, letting the anticipation spin out, he moved around the corners, tightening the chains by increments, so that she was stretched to the utmost and still perfectly centered. She made little moaning sounds as he worked, her body undulating as she accustomed herself to it, setting fire to his blood. When he selected one of the designer pillows and wedged it under her hips, positioning it to lift her delicious bum in the air, she segued into those panting moans she made in the extremity of arousal.

  “Turn your face to the side,” he instructed, then smoothed her hair back from her face when she did, studying her expression. Totally transported. He brought over a standing mirror, angling it so she could see her reflection in the overhead mirror, then picked up the strap and stood next to it. “Can you see both me and yourself, from above?”

  She nodded, pressing her lips together against her frantic breathing.

  “I need you to answer me out loud, Amber. So I know you’re in there and okay.”

  “I’m okay,” she whispered. “I can see.”

  “Have you ever been spanked before?”

  “When I was little. And bad.” She laughed, a breathy sound, then trembled. “I remember it hurt.”

  “It’s supposed to. But you can stop this anytime. Tell me your safewords.”

  “I don’t want to stop it.” She sounded almost petulant, and oh so very young. God help him, it flooded him with crazed fervor for more.

  “You might find yourself wanting to beg me to stop, which is fine, but I won’t unless you use the safewords.”

  “I know.”

  “Say them anyway, so I know you remember.”

  “Morpheus and Lolita. I’ll say them if I need to. Please, Alec.”

  “All right then. Time to punish my naughty girl.” Far from having a chilling effect under these circumstances, hearing the name Lolita roll off her tongue, with all its sordid implications, made him feel that much more wicked. Her adorable, pristine ass, utterly vulnerable and perfectly white, begged to be defiled.

  With a sense of power, he cracked the strap in the air, loving when she flinched, then smacked it down over her bottom.

  Her mouth made a perfect O and her eyes, riveted not on him but on her reflection, looked astonished, then filled with tears. Her gasp of shock followed long after, the delayed sound of thunder after the lash of lightning. A stripe of pink appeared on her skin, gratifyingly marring her unblemished whiteness. He strapped her again and she cried out faster, a sound of high pain with an undercoat of a woman’s arousal.

  Born for this, indeed.

  Keeping himself on a tight leash, though he quickly became as fiercely aroused as ever, he worked her slowly, varying the speed and strength of the strap. Making an art of reddening her snowy flesh, watching her eyes go blind with the sensory overload, her body squirming in a frenzy of need. She wept, seeming not to notice and cried out for him, little pleas to stop and for more tangling together. When he did stop, and set the strap aside, she kept moving the same way, her body entreating him to end the torment and send her to the full catharsis she craved.

  Shucking his trousers, he pulled a condom from the dresser and put it on, then knelt between her spread thighs. Running his hands over her steaming skin, he relished the way she moaned at the touch, pushing herself against him, her delicate cunt unfurled like a rose, glistening and gorgeous. Knowing how close to climax she’d be, he positioned his cock at her entrance, slid one hand beneath her to cup the outside of her mound, and braced himself with the other.

  She stilled, cognizant enough now to anticipate, her breath hitching with tears and moans of encouragement. In one swift movement, he buried himself in her and slipped his fingers into her slick tissues, to press hard on her clit.

  As he’d anticipated, she convulsed, wrenching as the orgasm took her. To his surprise, he nearly came, too, barely hanging on, digging his fingers into the sheets as her body milked him. He managed to make it until she crested, enough to ease himself into stroking in and out of her, finding her rhythm, bracketing her clit to ease her through the crash and prolong her arousal. She responded as a thoroughbred racehorse, ramping into another rise and climax, her body shuddering and her cries going from despair to delight.

  He had it now, so that she’d remember the drenching pleasure that followed the pain. The orgasmic catharsis completing the gutting one of being restrained and tormented. He held out until her third climax hit, this one so strong that her internal muscles vised on him, spinning him into his own orgasm much as her talented mouth had done, pulling it from him with an edge so jagged it wrenched a cry from him as heartfelt as any of hers. Stars pinpricked the blackened edges of his vision.

  Utterly spent, he collapsed over her, face buried in the honey silk of her hair.

  Chapter Sixteen

  He lay there in a delirium. Aware on some level of her sweet, slim body crushed beneath him, her bottom hot against his groin, her muscles still clenching on his softening cock. Hazily he knew he should move, get the condom off before it leaked, release her from the bonds so she wouldn’t cramp or stiffen. But his body seemed fundamentally disconnected from his brain and he couldn’t seem to make it do anything.

  “Oh. My. Fucking. God.” Amber drawled out the words, punctuating them with her uneven breaths.

  That galvanized him. With an apology, he managed to wrench his hand from the soft trap of her folds and get it to the condom, keeping it in place as he withdrew from the delicious hold of her body. Quickly he dispensed with it and returned to release her from the chains, holding out a warm, wet cloth as she rolled over onto her back, limbs flopping in disarray.

  Scowling at the hair draped over her face, she blew at it and he chuckled, brushing it aside for her as she seemed disinclined to move. Awareness returning to her eyes, she took him in, sitting naked beside her on the bed. “I wonder...” she said.

 
He raised an eyebrow and, since she hadn’t taken it, set the cloth within her reach and used another to clean himself.

  “I wonder how it can be,” she tried again in a musing tone, “that you can drive me out of my fucking mind like that, with everything you did to me tonight, ending up with chaining me to your bed, strapping me silly and fucking me within an inch of my life—but when you say ‘beg your pardon’ in that starchy tone, I get hot all over again.”

  Arrested, he stared at her, unable to think of a response. She giggled and sat up with surprising alacrity, tossing her hair over her shoulder and snatching up the cloth. “The look on your face.”

  She bent her knees, letting them flop bonelessly apart and set to cleaning herself, hissing as she shifted her bottom. “Wow—that stings, now that I’m coming down.”

  “Let me see.” Had he gone at her too hard? He’d been careful, but it had been some time and he had a tendency to lose control around her. “Turn over.”

  “I’m fine. Don’t worry so much.” She looked fine. Indeed she looked saucily pleased with herself, full of enviable vigor.

  “I believe I gave you an order, darling.”

  Her eyes flickered and she quivered a little. “God. I don’t know how you do that to me.” With the appearance of obedience, she slithered over his lap, positioning herself with her bottom over his thigh, bracing on her elbows so her back arched gracefully, then glanced coyly over her shoulder, blue eyes bright. “How does it look?”

  He ran his hands over her reddened skin—fading to a hot pink, as it should—and checked for bruising or anywhere he might have broken the skin. She sighed with her whole body relaxing and eyes going dreamy. “I love the way you do that. Like I’m precious. Like you enjoy just touching me.”

  “I do enjoy it,” he murmured, indulging himself in the curves of her delicious bum, since she seemed to be all right with it, trailing his fingers into her cleft, so seductive and steamy. “You’re a beautiful woman, Amber. I don’t know that I could ever get enough of touching you.”