by Debi Wilder
Chapter 7
A deep sigh, sounding like a hot whoosh of heat, sent goose bumps up Cassandra’s legs. “Mistress Jameson, you must understand…”
“The only thing I understand at this moment is this. I’m being held captive against my wishes by a man who is afraid to come out of the shadows.” Losing what was left of her dignity, Cassandra felt the surge of tears stream down her cheeks. She’d lost the battle between the brave front and the scared woman. At this point, she’d do whatever it took to be free. Once she was free, she’d deal with Paige.
“You’re right, of course. A gentleman wouldn’t…” The sound of a match against the sole of a boot reached Cassandra’s ears a moment before the light of a lantern filled the room with a soft glow. She heard herself gasp at her surroundings and the man who stood between the foot of the bed and dressing table. It was then she realized she lay naked, tied spread eagle, exposed in front of a stranger, totally helpless and not in control of the situation. Her greatest fear of being tied up had happened and she didn’t know what to do about it.
“Where am I?” A chill soared through her entire body, not from her nakedness, but from the look of lust pointed directly at her. Pure, hot, unadulterated lust lit his eyes even in the shadows.
“You are in my private quarters, Mistress Jameson.” The dark haired man cloaked in a long black coat slowly pulled a blanket from the bottom of her feet. Spreading it out, he covered her body to just above her breasts. The prickly wool material sent goosebumps through her body.
“Thank you,” she said, unable to tear her eyes from his face. Something about his eyes held her attention. Violet in color, they were both warm and cold at the same time. She couldn’t remember seeing anything like them before, nor did she ever want to again. They sent both a shiver and a wave of heat through her, sending mixed signals to her body.
“You may want to hold onto your gratitude. I’m not sure if, or when, I’ll set you free.” He took a seat in the corner chair, folding his arms across his chest.
“Haven’t you done enough damage to my ego as it is? You’ve won, can’t you get that through your head?” She flexed her butt muscles, shifting her bottom slightly under the wool blanket. It was warm and itchy between her legs. The sensation of the material nestling between her lips sent a hardened surge to her clit.
“The mystery is just what have I won, Mistress Jameson?” A black booted ankle crossed over onto a black knee.
How can he be so nonchalant about this whole thing? Doesn’t he realize what he’s done? That he’s kidnapped a poor unsuspecting woman…me! “By setting me free, you may just seal your own freedom Mr….Mr…just what is your name?”
“Alexander. Garrett Alexander, at your service,” he bowed his head, yet did not even bother to stand.
“Well, Mr. Alexander, do you think you could afford me the opportunity to use a bathroom?” Her bladder had been hardening and pushing against her belly for the last five minutes. If she didn’t get to a bathroom soon she’d pee right here in this bed. Pee soaked goose feathers was not something she wanted to experience…ever.
“Bathroom?”
“Yes, or else your feather bed is going to become quite moist.”
“I see….can I trust you not to dash out the door?”
“Mr. Alexander, without my clothes I doubt going out in public will happen.”
“Since I don’t care to have the scent of your piss on my bed, you’ve left me no choice.” He stood, than loomed over her in the blink of an eye. Slowly, he pulled the blanket across her body, the rough material sensitizing her nipples to harden peaks. Cassandra didn’t believe her tits could get any harder, but they were to the point of pulsing with a need to be touched further.
Her body shivered as his firm hand drifted down the inside of her right thigh, past her knee and calf, resting lightly on her ankle. She felt him take her foot in hand, massaging her toes and arch. Her body eased and relaxed under his manipulations, until she felt her big toe being suckled with his mouth. The sensation sent her body into a flash of heat…sexual heat needing to be satisfied soon.
All thoughts of the bathroom slipped from her mind.
Garrett massaged the arch of CJ’s foot in a slow, gentle, circular motion, until he felt the knotted muscles release the pent up tension. Delicate and soft, he longed to suck each toe until he had her withering with desire.
He sucked in a breath as he caught the back of her ankle in the palm of his hand. Lifting the soft and painted toed foot a few more inches, he bent and captured her big toe with his mouth. She shivered as his tongue licked the back of the painted toe, the knowledge of what he did to her causing his cock to grow harder.
Releasing her foot back on to his bed, the toe slipping from his mouth with a sucking sound, Garrett smelled her hot juices from her cunt. He could easily take her as she was, tied to his bed, and under normal circumstances would have begun a lesson she’d never forget. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to degrade her in such a manner, unless she’d ask to be bound and tethered by him of course.
He released the leather strips around her other foot and then each wrist, one-by-one, until she was free to move from the bed. “The toilet is just through the door, to your right.”
Garrett watched, admiring what he considered to be a perfect female specimen leave his bed with the wool blanket wrapped loosely around her body. He rubbed the bulge in his pants, pulling his hand from the wetness of pre-cum that had seeped through the material.
No! Impossible…absolutely impossible. Immortals with unconditional circumstances don’t become enticed by women, especially not a mortal woman.
He turned from the seductive vision before him, unable to reason his lustful desire further. Cum seeping from his cock was as uncommon to Garrett as death would be. Neither existed for a man who, out of grief, had sold his life. He’d thought it would bring him to Victoria, instead it brought him the cold nothingness of not being alive, but not quite dead either.
When Garrett had lost his beloved Victoria to the witch hunters and the fire that consumed her body, he promised her he’d never love another woman if he could walk the heavens for all time at her side. He woke the next morning a new man…or rather a dead man who didn’t appear to be dead. Not a vampire nor a warlock, he’d walk the ground as a member of the undead caught somewhere between wanting to die and wanting to live. To live without Victoria was the same as being dead to Garrett, there was no difference in the two.
“Victoria,” her name nothing more than a whisper of hot, moist air on the window pane. He’d forgotten how much he missed her until tonight. Until he’d found the witch, who became CJ, in his bed. The wickedly delicious siren who’d called him in the future, now walked presently in the past…centuries in the past. Same building, same layout, same street…different century.
Would she notice the similarities? Or would she run for the door with nothing but an old wool blanket covering her body?
Ha! She may be many things…sexy, vivacious, desirable…but a fool wasn’t one of them.
“Who are you and why are you in my shop!” Her voice echoed the demand for knowledge as well as the fear of the unknown. “I demand to know what you’ve done to my shop and just where the hell is Paige?”
Garrett turned from his thoughts to find her emerald eyes lit with the fire of the night’s shadows.
“Mistress Jameson…”
Cassandra stood in front of him, looking him square in the eye and sucked in a quick breath. “Don’t you ‘Mistress Jameson’ me! I demand to know what’s going on here.” The sexual heat radiating off him caught her off guard. She’d never encountered a man who could make her weak in the knees with just his presence, but this man did. She didn’t like it one bit.
“Do you think you could actually turn on the lights so I can see the face of the man who could be convinced to do Paige’s bidding?” Cassandra stood her ground, smiling when Mr. Alexander took a step backwards. Maybe she’d finally gotten through h
is thick skull what he’d done, his idea or not, wasn’t cool.
“The lantern is all the light you’ll have, Mistress Jameson.”
“Oh give me a break.” In the lantern’s shadows, she backed up toward the door reaching for the spot where she knew the switch place was. “The light switch’s right here…”
She froze when her hand touched nothing except the coldness of a plaster wall. She knew this room like the back of her hand, having moved about it more than once in the dark. This time there was no switch; no way to turn on the light to see the man who clung to the shadows. She wasn’t where she thought she was…in the backroom of Eternal Pleasures. So just where in the hell was she?
Cassandra felt the cool moistness of fear settle on her upper lip. She’d never feared anything before in her entire life…well maybe one thing, and she’d already survived being bound on a bed. The mere thought of the bed and leather straps sent a hot shiver through her, elevating her body temperature a notch or two.
“Is something wrong, Mistress Jameson? Can’t perform your magic in the shadows of the night?”
She froze at his warm breath brushing the back of her neck. She hadn’t heard him move about, let alone see him. Just how did he manage to sneak up on her? Deep in thought, she jumped at the sound of a bell jingling from somewhere on the other side of the door. A door blocked by a man who both frightened and excited her.
“If you’ll forgive me, I must attend to a customer.”
Before she felt his absence, she heard the click of the door lock softly. She may still be his captive, but at least she was free to move about the room. She wrapped the blanket a little tighter, allowing just enough room for her to reach out and take the lantern in hand.
Cassandra lifted the light, casting its low glow upon the bed where she’d laid prone moments ago. Next to her indentation in the feather-filled mattress, lay a beautiful purple and black dress.
She set the lantern on a small bedside table, and then picked the dress up by the shoulders. She rubbed the luxurious material lightly between her fingers; she’d never felt silk like it before. Warm, soft and smooth, nothing like the cooler synthetic silken material she had in her own bedroom closet.
Draping the dress across her arm, Cassandra picked up the lantern and walked over to the dressing table and mirror. Seeing her shadowed image in the mirror, she found the reflection before her looked as if it were made to fit the dress she held up in front of her perfectly.
Chapter 8
Bloody hell! Garrett slipped through the door without a sound, leaving CJ to her thoughts. He’d been so absorbed in her that he’d forgotten about this evening’s lesson with Lady Claybrook. Claybrook had sent his young bride to him for training in the ways of lovemaking. A virgin on her wedding night, Vanessa Claybrook took to her lessons quickly after some sweet persuasion by Garrett. Her youthful innocence an element not found in his other clients, he’d looked forward to seeing her once a week.
This night she was nothing but a pest he’d have to discharge of as soon as he could. He had a woman in his bedchamber who’d somehow managed to capture him…instead of the other way around. Garrett needed to figure out how the CJ of the future had become the CJ of the past. What kind of witchcraft had brought her to him on this of all nights?
One hundred years ago this day, he’d watched Victoria burn to death. One hundred years ago this very night, he’d made a pact that cost him his existence…and soul.
Why after four hundred years did this woman from the future seek him out? Or had she? She certainly didn’t seem pleased to be strung across his bed like an animal skin.
Garrett took a deep breath to calm his quaking desire, and then pulled open the door.
“Lord Claybrook! What a surprise to find you instead of your lovely wife.” Garrett pulled the door open further, “Please, do come in. I hope your presence here doesn’t mean that Lady Claybrook has taken ill.”
With hesitation, the lanky Lord Claybrook stepped across the threshold into the shop. “No, she’s quite well. In fact, a little too well.” The blush of embarrassment seeped up Claybrook’s rigid facial features.
“Then how can I be of service to you, my Lord.” The man had something on his mind, and Garrett needed to find out one way or another if his own existence was in danger. “It is quite unusual to find the husband of a student at my door at this late hour.”
“Yes, yes…well the truth of the matter is this,” Claybrook walked further into the dimly lit room, before pulling an article from one of the many shelves. “You have done such a wonderful job with Vanessa,…er, Lady Claybrook…may I speak freely Mr. Alexander?”
“Why of course, speak as freely as you’d like. There are many secrets told here, my Lord, none of which have gone beyond these walls.” Garrett closed the door wondering if he should make a dash out the back while he could. If Claybrook’s being here was a set up, then Garrett had to protect himself as best he could. His existence would not end in a ring of fire as those before him.
“I have come to, shall we say, appreciate the knowledge my young bride has acquired. My deepest fear now is whether or not I can give her the same appreciation of my body that she gives me of hers.” Claybrook looked like a young man about to go into his first whorehouse.
Garret should have been surprised by Claybrook’s concern, yet wasn’t. Vanessa Claybrook had been an innocent beauty when she’d wed the formidable Charles Claybrook, ten years her senior. Through Garrett’s teachings, she’d turned into a knowledgeable beauty who would no doubt seek out a lover if Claybrook couldn’t satisfy her growing sexual needs.
“I am sure your concerns are unfounded, Lord Claybrook. Your wife loves you dearly, she told me so many times over the past months.” Garrett took a seat in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, motioning for Claybrook to do the same.
“Yes, yes.” Claybrook flopped down on the cushion, like a man with many things on his mind and confused by them. “Well that is what I pray for, Mr. Alexander. You have been so thorough with your teachings; my concern now lies on my own ability to pleasure Vanessa. I know of nowhere else to turn which is discreet, and offered in the shadows of the night.”
“What are you suggesting, sir? That I teach you the art of properly fucking your wife so that she doesn’t take a lover?”
Claybrook’s back visibly stiffened. Garrett knew instantly it was exactly what high classed Lord Charles Claybrook intended to request this night. Why else would Claybrook visit him in the middle of the night instead of going to one of the many whorehouses in the city?
“Sir! You need not be so crude.” Claybrook pounded his fist on the arm of the high-backed chair. “I simply am inquiring on how I might come about such knowledge, Mr. Alexander. I am not suggesting that you provide me these teachings.”
“Then just what are you suggesting, Lord Claybrook? From where I sit, it certainly appears to be the circumstance.” Garrett knew from the rush of red up Claybrook’s neck that he had indeed intended to ask for his assistance. He couldn’t wait to see how the highbrow Lord Claybrook would ask for his help…as he surely would before stepping back out into the street and the dark of night.
The luxury of the fine silk settled itself around Cassandra’s body, giving her a feeling of wealth and stature. Everything about the garment from the rich, deep purple in-laid bodice to the tapered waist fit her perfectly, as if the dress had been made for her and no one else.
Where did this Mr. Alexander find a seamstress who would make a gown to fit so perfectly? In fact, how did he get the precise measures to even commission someone to attempt the task?
Paige must have given him several pieces of her clothing as samples. It’s all in her little scheme of things. Cassandra never realized her masturbating bothered Paige that much. If she ever got out of here, she’d apologize to her longtime friend…right after she gave her what not for putting her in this situation to begin with.
No one but Paige knew of Cassandra’s fear of being
restrained and powerless…at the total mercy of someone else. Wish I never told her about that damn dream. It had been so real. I could feel the ropes around my wrists and ankles, the slivers of wood penetrating my back…the fear of torches coming too close.
She chased away the shiver of fear creeping up her spine and wiped at the tear slipping down her cheek caused by the memory of her nightmare. The recurring dream first came after they’d initially toured the old warehouse as a possible location for their new business venture. She’d never said anything to Paige, thinking it was a one-time nightmare.
A few months later, after they’d moved into the old warehouse and were finishing up the renovations, it happened again. Only this time she’d fallen asleep in a chair in the middle of the afternoon. When she’d finally realized what had happened, she was curled up on the floor in Paige’s arms.
Even now, the smell of her own fear filled Cassandra’s nostrils and perspiration beaded on her upper lip. If she allowed it to overtake her, there’d be no way for her to defend herself. She’d be nothing but putty to the man who held her captive. How could Paige do such a thing to her?
At least she’d been able to sleep through the night for the past week or two. Well, as peaceful as a woman could with the sexual dreams she’d been having. The recurrence of her fantasy lover with his long dark hair, velvet blue eyes and expert way of touching her did more to ease the sexual tension in her body that anything else ever did. Good thing he’s only a fantasy and not real…she’d never be able to live up to his expertise.
“Hah” she laughed aloud, then turned to look out the only window in the room. “It’s your own manipulations that have satisfied you, not those of a man. At least not a man of flesh and bone.”