The Deep End

by AM Hartnett

  And then, so quiet she couldn’t be sure his words were meant for her, he mumbled, ‘I don’t know how much longer I can take being who I am.’

  A calm settled over them, and he took her hand once more.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When they got back to the bike, the Taureau she had known from the start returned with a vengeance. His helmet on, he came up behind her and slipped his hand beneath her shirt, stopping just beneath her breast.

  She pushed back against him. ‘My sentiments exactly.’

  Once on the bike, she slipped her hand beneath his shirt and tucked her fingers between his jeans and abdomen. Taureau chuckled, and then they were on the move.

  A basket full of groceries on the kitchen step told them that they had missed Mike d’Entremont’s delivery. On solid ground once more, Grace stepped aside to let Taureau pass and unlock the door and found herself in a pose she never thought she’d be in: slung over his shoulders like a lamb being carried by a shepherd. She yelped as the ground spun, then laughed as every step jostled her.

  They didn’t go far, just beyond the guesthouse to a patch of green broken only by a massive maple tree. He set her down roughly, and as Grace caught her bearings she saw that there was something very different about that tree this afternoon. He’d actually fitted the thick, jutting branch lowest to the ground with a swing.

  ‘You must be joking,’ she said, and stepped next to the contraption. It looked sturdy enough: in lieu of a hook, he’d wrapped what looked like a towing strap around and around the branch. She gave it a gentle tug.

  Taureau placed his hands on her shoulders. ‘It holds my weight. You won’t bring the tree down.’

  ‘Have you done this before?’

  ‘Not here.’

  Grace narrowed her eyes and fingered the strap attached to the stirrup closest to her. ‘I’m not crazy. This wasn’t here before, was it?’

  ‘Not until this morning when I put it up. You’re a very heavy sleeper.’

  She grasped the harness with both hands and gave it her full weight, and grinned at him as she swung back and forth.

  ‘Is this for you, or for me?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  Though they were in the great outdoors, it seemed as though he had her hemmed in, and that she had nowhere to go. He made a simple movement, one hand resting on his belt, and Grace nearly wept with wanting him.

  A wicked little sprite of an idea struck her and she grinned at him. ‘What if I don’t want to get in?’

  ‘I’ll make you.’

  His lack of hesitation made her giggle. This way and that way, Grace swung and watched him fight his own smile.

  ‘What if I run?’

  ‘I’ll catch you.’

  She pretended to think about it. ‘Then I guess I’d better do what you say, Mr Taureau.’

  ‘As though it was going to be any other way.’ He began to circle her, hand still over his buckle. ‘Let go of the harness, Miss Neely.’

  She released her hold and stood like a soldier as he came around to face her. He stood before her, nearly nose to nose, and looked down her body.

  ‘Raise your hands over your head.’ She obeyed and tried to stay still as he brusquely stripped her down.

  He let her keep her shoes, which only served to remind her that she was otherwise completely bare there in the great outdoors. She instinctively covered herself, and Taureau swept behind her and captured her wrists.

  ‘What’s the point in this, now? You have nothing I haven’t seen, nothing that isn’t mine.’

  He ran his hands over her, warming her skin beneath his palms as he rubbed up her arms, down her back, and cupped her ass. Grace pushed back against him with a purr, and was rewarded with a stinging slap on her cheek.

  ‘It’s been a few days since I turned your ass a healthy shade of red,’ he said, caressing where heat rushed to the surface. ‘You must be missing it.’

  ‘Is that why you were playing with your belt while I was undressing?’

  He went still. ‘Actually, I didn’t even realise I was doing it. Using something as profane as my belt never ever crossed my mind, but now …’

  Taureau moved against her, knuckles brushing her back and buttocks, belt buckle making a small metallic clink as he undid it. She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to keep in her moan, but there was no preventing the shiver that accompanied the whistling sound of leather rubbing against denim. When he had finished, when he had folded the strip over in his hands, he snaked his arm around and pressed it to her belly, then splayed his hand on her chin and twisted her face around as far as he could.

  ‘I know you like to be pinned down and used, but do you have a thing for pain?’ he asked, gaze burning into hers.

  ‘My experience is limited to a bit of paddling and a bit of spanking,’ she confessed breathlessly. ‘I’ve always been interested in something a little more severe, but I’ve never come across any man I’d want to give free rein to give me more than just a tap.’

  Taureau pressed his cheek to hers and closed his eyes. He took deep breaths, his body close against hers, and she wished he was as naked as she was. In the last few weeks, she’d discovered that there was little else on earth as breathtaking as seeing him stripped down in the daylight, his whole body pulsing with his arousal.

  ‘I have something you may prefer over the belt,’ he murmured. ‘It’s much more personal. If I’m going to give you “more than just a tap” I want it to mean something.’

  Such mystery in his low tone. What could possibly be more personal than the belt? What else could he have hidden away that she hadn’t seen before?

  ‘I haven’t used these on anyone else,’ he added tenderly, and nuzzled his face against hers. It was such a small act of endearment that Grace knew she would have said yes to anything.

  And those words: they told her so much about how highly he regarded her, spoken so she would know how he valued her above those who had come before her.

  ‘Get it,’ she said. ‘I’ll wait here for you.’

  ‘You’ll wait in the swing.’

  It was decided, and so Grace let him pose her like she was his own little toy. His strength made a quick job of what, for her alone, would have been an awkward and laughable experience. When he had finished, she was perched with her feet tucked against the stirrups, both padded supports cradling her ass and thighs. He made use of the belt after all by wrapping it around the bar at the top of the contraption and her wrists.

  He gave her a push and Grace laughed as she started to spin.

  ‘I feel like a parakeet,’ she said through her giggles.

  One full circle and he stopped her and pulled her closer, anchoring her with his gloved hands on her ribs. He kissed her softly, nibbling and suckling her lips and then her tongue until she ached with wanting more.

  Then, he drew back.

  ‘Wait,’ she called as he turned away from her. ‘He won’t come back, will he?’

  He spun around and spread out his arms as he walked backwards. ‘Mike or my father?’

  ‘Both. Either. Anyone.’

  Taureau laughed. ‘If someone does come, I’ll just throw a blanket over your head to keep you quiet.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she murmured, finding no humour in his twisting her parakeet remark.

  He disappeared into the house, and Grace wriggled in the swing until it began to rotate. Around and around and around she set the swing, head hung back, watching the pastoral scene around her spin upside-down. Above her head the towing strap creaked as one layer rubbed against another, but she felt safe. She felt free and giddy.

  With his reappearance, the lightness in her body turned to heavy arousal at the sight of the stick-like things in his hands.

  ‘Those didn’t come from a sex shop,’ she observed as he laid each one out on the grass in front of her.

  ‘Neither did this.’ He reached into his pocket and produced what looked like an old collar. ‘It’s a spur strap, b
ut for you it’s a collar. It should fit. These are all very old, and they’re all mine from long ago. I’ve had them tucked away in a chest in the library.’

  ‘No leash?’

  He chuckled, and tucked his finger between the strap and her neck. ‘This will do.’

  She loved it. It was only a simple little strip of leather, but having it upon her was just as effective as the belt around her wrist. Better than the bondage tape and rope, and better than a cheesy collar that had been ordered online.

  As he set her to spinning again, Taureau began to speak.

  ‘I was wearing that strap around my boot when I lost my virginity,’ he told her. ‘It happened about a mile from here. The barn is gone now, but the farmhouse where it happened is still there.’

  ‘Let me guess, the farmer’s wife?’ she teased, and curled her fingers and toes as Taureau stripped off his shirt at last. She twisted her head this way and that as she twirled, hungry for the sight of his bare chest.

  ‘Not even close. Her name was Miranda. She was boarding her horse there, too. She was just one of half a dozen girls I was fooling around with that summer. Of all of them, she was the last I thought would let me get between her legs, but she was the one, right there on the ratty old sofa they kept in the sun porch.’

  Off went his jeans, and all that remained were the riding boots and gloves. With the afternoon sunlight pouring down on him, making the hairs on his body glint and the sheen of moisture at the tip of his cock glisten, he could have been a creature from mythology, a satyr emerging from the forest for the sacrificial nymph left hanging for him on a swing of vines.

  He picked up one of the riding crops from the ground and grasped the swing to stop her movement. He held it with the silver tip of the handle facing her. ‘Can you read it?’

  ‘J. A. T.,’ she said, quirking her mouth into a smile. ‘Another relic from your past?’

  ‘The horse didn’t seem to like it much,’ he said, and turned her around. ‘Let’s see how it strikes a dirty little cocksucker like you.’

  He snapped the tip where her ass met her thighs. The sting was instant, but had none of the bite she anticipated from being struck with a riding crop.

  She arched her back and wriggled her ass. ‘Don’t hold back on my account. If you’re going to give it to me, I want to feel it.’

  The words were barely out of her mouth when the entire length lashed across her buttocks. She shrieked as much from surprise as pain. Taureau liked to tease, to build anticipation, but she’d called him out and he’d given her what she asked for.

  ‘Be careful what you wish for, Miss Neely,’ he teased, and delivered a series of nasty little taps across both cheeks. ‘That was just a warning. Can you take another?’

  Grace wasn’t sure. The mark of pain was still so prominent, but the heat where the crop had come down was nothing compared to the heat that flushed her pussy.

  ‘Three in a row,’ she said and decided all at once. ‘Just like the last.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Three.’

  Once again, Taureau didn’t hesitate. Three angry whistles as the crop raced through the air. Three strict lashes across her ass. Three outcries, the last turning into one long moan.

  ‘Oh, God,’ she managed through her panting. ‘Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, that hurt like a bastard.’

  He twirled her around and grasped her chin. ‘You’re not half as tough as you thought you were, are you, Miss Neely?’

  Laughter sparked off her tongue and onto his as he kissed her. When he broke, she took a deep breath.

  ‘I can’t take it that hard again, but don’t stop. Do what you were doing before.’

  ‘I can do better than that.’ He held up the crop and placed the length against her lips. ‘Open up.’

  She bit down, and squealed as he gave the swing a strong push. Swinging and spinning, she couldn’t get a good look at what he was going for next and she knew that was why he had sent her on this ride.

  Taureau let the swing come to a halt on its own, and as it slowed Grace was able to appreciate the sight of him standing like a sentry. Strong, hair-speckled legs spread out, arms crossed over his chest with another crop in hand, and that mouthwatering column of flesh jutting from his body.

  Once she was in a gentle sway, he came around to her rear. The rip of Velcro alerted her that he’d removed a glove, and a moment later he brushed his bare knuckles over her ass.

  ‘I think I’ll leave the hook here for the rest of summer. I’d like to see you upside-down and spread open.’

  He rubbed his fingers along her crack, and made a sound of approval when he found her clit within the tight squeeze. Grace moaned around the crop as he worked the engorged nub between two fingers.

  ‘I’m so good to you. You only need to ask and I give you whatever you want. A little of this.’ He jiggled his fingers. As she panted through the ribbons of pleasure that went through her, he wriggled his thumb at her dripping cunt. ‘And then, a little of this.’

  The crop flicked against her, mingling the sharp bite with those errant pulsations his fingers evoked.

  ‘And you, such a perfect plaything, always so ready for a good fuck, always so hungry for a cock.’

  Flick, flick, flick. He beat a steady rhythm on her tender skin, but never in the same place. The snap of pain darted here and there, left and right, up and down. All the while his fingers worked her cunt just as steadily.

  She lolled her head back and forth, enduring this sweetest of tortures. The raw taste of leather brought her taste buds to life, wetting her mouth around the taut braid as she bit down. Her climax was an elusive creature. One moment it seemed as though it would rear up and take over, and the next that ecstatic feeling retreated.

  Long and low she moaned, and wiggled her hips since she couldn’t push back against him.

  ‘Keep biting,’ he warned her, though how he knew she was ready to spit the crop onto the ground she didn’t know. Perhaps he was a creature of myth and could see inside her head. Maybe her face showed him everything.

  The nip of the crop ceased. ‘I think you’ve had enough.’

  Grace heard a faint thump as the crop hit the ground, and it was forgotten the instant he hooked his fingers under the strap around her neck. He used only the slightest pressure, not enough to choke, but enough to mindfuck her.

  ‘I want you wetter than ever,’ he said, and let her feel the full furious length of his cock between the twin globes of her ass. ‘Show me how good I am to you, Miss Neely.’

  Had it been this hot when she first stripped? She was burning up, back drenched with sweat and pussy slick as oil around his fingers and against his hand.

  He gave the strap a tug. ‘Big important man always gets his way, doesn’t he?’

  Her words, claimed by him, set her off. Clit and pussy throbbed as her evasive pleasure came home at last and exploded beneath the skin. She bit down so hard that through the tumult she wondered if she could snap the crop in half.

  And then she was flying. In the glorious aftermath, he’d abandoned her, only to send her soaring in the swing. The spinning world was so beautiful in her breathless state, a kaleidoscope of greens and blues and whites. The fight to draw a breath was won, and she released her first lungful of air with delirious laughter spluttering around the rod in her mouth.

  It still frothed over her lips as he caught her around the waist and plucked the crop from her teeth. She tilted her head for a kiss and was denied and turned back around.

  ‘It’s funny how all those years ago, when I first had these tools in my hands, I never imagined I’d find a much better use for them.’ He grasped her by the scruff of her neck and rubbed her slick seam with the end of the crop.

  Grace sighed. ‘You are a bad, bad man.’

  ‘Big. Important. Man.’ He punctuated every word with a gentle tap against her pussy lips, and hooked the spur strap once more. ‘I could keep torturing you like this, see if I can make you come again ju
st by doing this.’

  ‘But you won’t,’ she murmured.

  Taureau replaced the crop with the tip of his cock. ‘No, I won’t.’

  She was at the perfect height and angle. With her legs cinched together she gave the perfect squeeze as he thrust up. She heard it in his low moan and felt it in the throb between her inner walls as he filled her.

  ‘Feel that?’ she murmured as he probed in and out. ‘That’s how good you are to me.’

  ‘So very good,’ he answered.

  Taureau pumped her with uncharacteristic silence. His fist came to rest at the centre of her back, still clutching his crop. The metal tip was cool against one shoulder while the leather at the other end was almost unearthly in its warmth. Bracing the crop against her back served no more purpose than his grip on the collar, save as a reminder that, once again and always, she was his to play with.

  Every guttural sound, every quick intake of breath told her that he was trying to restrain himself, to show complete control over his release as well as hers.

  What a futile thing to do, she thought, and, when he withdrew, she clipped her legs together and tensed her inner muscles.

  ‘You’ve got me where you want me and how you want me, now just take it,’ she urged him as he drove up with a savage thrust.

  Her name burst from his lips like a wet curse. He released the strap around her neck, and the crop joined its sister on the ground.

  A battle won, but it was Taureau who was the victor. With her body she’d stripped him of his restraint and freed him.

  Unleashed, Taureau took hold of her around the waist and pounded her. Perhaps it was the outdoors, but Taureau had never mastered her like this before. There was no finesse and no attentiveness. He rutted against her without any concern for the hot sting he’d made where his belly slapped against her ass. He’d made such a slick, easy passage for himself that Grace felt less like a woman and more like a thing, an oiled machine made for his personal use.

  The tension spring above her head screeched in agreement as he pushed and pulled her.