He tried again to place the woman’s name. Where was she anyway? He opened the envelope and pulled out a small white card.
When you’re ready, come into the bedroom. Whatever happens, remember that you have signed a contract to be at my beck and call, all night long…and Tommy Sampson has a reputation to keep. Tommy Sampson never lets a client down…
Tommy stared at the card, rereading it with a frown. He’d felt uncomfortable about that clause in the contract, and now it was being emphasized. What the hell was this about? He flipped the card over. There was nothing on the back. Dropping the card on the table, he glanced at the two doors facing each other on either side of him.
As he contemplated them, he heard a key turning in the door behind him.
He turned, expecting someone to walk in. But no. He heard the faint sound of footsteps and laughter disappearing away down the corridor. “What the fuck?”
He crossed the room and tried the handle. The door that he had come through was now locked, with no sign of a key anywhere inside the reception area. He glared at it. Someone was having a joke at his expense, and he didn’t like it.
He walked over to the door on the left, knocked and entered. It opened onto a sitting room with low-slung leather sofas arranged around a marble coffee table. The room also had a wet bar, entertainment center, and a selection of faux-fur cushions and rugs draped across the chairs and floor. The décor instantly made him think of sex, and that did not lie easily with his current confusion about the set-up. He ran a finger inside his collar, which felt tight and restrictive.
At my beck and call.
That suggestive phrase in the contract and the note kept echoing around his brain, unnerving him. Why the hell had he signed something so out of the ordinary? Because you were too busy thinking about Kelly, that’s why.
“The bedroom,” he murmured to himself. The note had read: “when you’re ready, come into the bedroom.” Shit. Some mad woman wanted him in her bedroom and had him locked in, both physically and contractually. This was a big mistake. Daniel must have misunderstood what the woman was after. He really did not need this hassle now. He had enough of a woman issue to deal with, trying to track Kelly down, without adding some deluded celebrity into the mix.
Come into the bedroom.
She obviously thought…he swallowed. She obviously thought she’d hired a man for all her whims, and satisfying her in the bedroom department was a whim he had no intention of fulfilling. “I’ll give Daniel hell.”
Once he explained the mistake and got the hell out of here, his agent was in big trouble. Not to mention Jay. It was his so-called friend who’d got the wrong end of the stick here. But first he had to find the client and explain. He was tempted to call reception—or, better still—just kick the door down and walk out, but he was a professional. This Jennifer woman needed to understand he was a trained security man, a bodyguard and a roadie, not a fuckin’ gigolo. The very thought of it made his hackles rise.
Dreading what he might find, he braced himself, stormed back through the reception area and opened the second door without knocking. The room was in darkness apart from the bed area, which was lit by fancy red lamps that seemed to be built into the headboard. They cast what was supposedly a seductive glow over black and red bed coverings. Tommy broke into a cold sweat. It looked like something from a Valentine’s Day card, a heart-shaped bed with some sort of tentlike fabric hanging over it, like a harem. Thankfully, there wasn’t anyone in the damn bed. He steeled himself and stepped into the room.
“Look, lady, there’s been some sort of a mistake here.”
He heard the sound of wicked chuckling in the darkness, then the door slammed shut behind him.
“What the fuck?” He went to turn on his heel, but not quickly enough. A hand pushed him in the small of the back. He lurched in the direction of the bed, which he cursed at as he collapsed onto it. The air whooshed from his lungs as he hit the surface. Inhaling, he got a face full of satin.
Lifting his head, swaying, he blinked and gathered himself. Then someone or some thing leapt onto his back, snatching at his arms and locking them together at the small of his back. He felt fingers wrapping around his wrists.
Scowling and cursing, Tommy pulled his hands free, clambering up the bed, trying to break loose. The thing, whatever the hell it was, grunted and leapt, snatched hold of his belt, and hung on. The more he lurched away, the more his belt tightened on his hips and the thing jerked him back. His jeans were halfway down his arse and he felt sharp nails biting into his buttocks.
Shit, not only is she a complete maniac, she’s a freakin’ man-eater.
He’d heard stories about stuff like this, about men hired for sex. He’d read about them in those dodgy Sunday newspapers. But Tommy Sampson wasn’t going to be a victim of some demented celebrity, left tied to a bed for some maid to find, no way. Get a grip man, he told himself. She was fast, and she was strong, but she was a woman.
He rolled onto his back, flipping them both over, and snatched at her hand where it was locked on to his belt. “Excuse me, but I’m the security person here. I’m supposed to protect you from people like you.”
He gripped her by the wrists and hauled her physically up and onto his chest, pulling her closer into the lamplight to get a look at her.
She wriggled and hissed, her body sleek and lissome as a cat being held against its will, thick, dark hair flashing across her face and hiding her features. “Let me go,” she demanded.
He opened his mouth to deny her, and then got a glimpse of her face, froze and stared. “Kelly?”
She glared back at him, eyes narrowed and mouth pursed as if she was annoyed he’d thwarted her attack.
Despite his confusion, he broke into a grin. He couldn’t help it. It was Kelly, it was really her. And she was looking really sexy in the hazy red light, dressed in some sort of fancy black underwear beneath a robe. The entire outfit was see-through, which made it very hard to concentrate on anything other than what was under it.
She wriggled free. “Yes, Kelly. Get used to it. You’re here for the night, Buddy. I bought your time and you’re all mine.”
“You’re Jennifer Sandringham?”
“Jennifer Sandringham is my great aunt, a blue-haired spinster from Northampton who spends most of her days complaining to the council about local affairs. I borrowed her name. It’s me you have to answer to.” She smiled then, and it was thoroughly bad.
The pulse in his groin started to beat hard. “I knew something wasn’t right about this setup.”
“And you walked right into it.”
He lifted his eyebrows at her, grinning. “You went to a hell of a lot of trouble. You should have said you wanted another round. I’d have been happy to oblige.”
She glared at him, as if annoyed. “I would have done, if you hadn’t abandoned me in a hotel room.”
His smile faded. She was angry. “I didn’t abandon you. I mean, I did, but that’s what I thought you wanted. I thought you were just out for a one-nighter. I thought you were after Clayton, that I was second choice.”
She paused, staring at him in surprise, then gathered herself. “It would have been nice if you’d asked.”
He barely registered that she’d got her hands on his wrists again. “It wasn’t like that, and I’m sorry. Besides, I had to leave. My sister had her baby early, and I wanted to go over to the hospital to be with them. I should have woken you, but I didn’t. I came back and you’d gone. I’ve been trying to find you all week. Do you know how many Kellys there are in London?”
She looked surprised, and stared at him silently for a moment. “You came back?”
He nodded. “I’ve been trying to track you down ever since. You didn’t give me your last name.”
“No, I didn’t.”
He thought she was softening, but then she flicked her hair back and grabbed his wrists back into her grasp. Jerking his arms straight, she held on to him.
He shook his hea
d, laughing in disbelief. “How did you get to be so strong?”
“Hard work and a competitive nature.” She clambered to her knees. “A liking for adventure sports.” She flexed, her body rippling provocatively, agile as a feline. “I was the Southern Counties female canoeing champion title holder for two years running.”
She climbed over him and straddled his hips. “I jog daily. I’ve placed in the London Marathon in the top one thousand every year since I started.” She moved her hands up from his wrists, never breaking contact with him, and pinned his arms down with her hands locked around his biceps. “Oh, and I work in a gym, keeping shifty men like you in good shape.”
“The moment I saw you I thought you’d make a great gym partner.” He grinned. “But… ‘shifty’? That’s not very complimentary. Especially coming from a woman who just knocked the knees out from under me. If there was any shifty behavior here, that was it.”
“I’m not here to pay you compliments. I’m here to return a favor.” Mischief glinted in her eyes.
He wasn’t sure what she meant, but he could barely focus on what she was saying. She’d tracked him down. His ego was swelling by the moment, and that wasn’t all. With her sitting across his hips, pinning him down, looking so sexy, he was already getting hard.
She gave him a slow, hungry, once over, her gaze lingering. “Are you ready for a really stiff workout, Tommy?”
His brain turned to mush. His dick did the reverse. Her sassy, suggestive smile made his balls ache. She had that mischievous look in her eye, her lips parted while she moved her crotch suggestively over him.
“Oh yes.”
“Up for a challenge, huh?” She drew his hands to her body, putting them on her breasts.
He molded the satin-covered flesh with his hands, his focus shifting. She looked so damn good, like a fantasy come true. He couldn’t wait to be inside her, to fuck her, fast, and then again, real slow.
She took one hand in hers, pulled it away and kissed his fingertips, stroking his forearm, taking one finger in her mouth.
“Oh, yes, that’s good.” He moved his free hand into her cleavage, stroking her there, imagining his dick there. She was moving in and out of the shadows, and all he could focus on was her crotch rubbing against him, and her breast in his hand. It wasn’t until she moved that hand too, and he automatically tried to use the other, that he found he couldn’t. She had tethered it to the headboard and out to the side. Glancing over, he saw that a line of shiny, twisted black stuff extended from the headboard to his wrist, where it was tied tightly around his wrist. “What the hell is that?”
She’d swayed to the other side. “Bondage tape.”
Bondage? “Wait a minute—”
“Too late, you’re mine now, all mine.” She leaned back, smiling at her handiwork. She’d got the other one tied too.
“Kelly?” He flexed his arms, tugged. The tape stretched marginally, but seemed to twist and tighten too. There were maybe ten inches of tape up to where she’d looped and tied it to the headboard, but it wasn’t enough for his liking. He was ready to do whatever she wanted, but he’d never been tied up before.
“I’m quite sure you could break free, but I’d like to remind you at this point that you signed a contract to be at my beck and call.”
She was right. “Yes. I see.” What the hell had he let himself in for? “You don’t need to tie me up, believe me. I’m very willing.”
“Oh, but I do need to tie you up. You were very rude to me, so it’s my turn to punish you.”
The idea of being punished by her, sexually, almost won out in the battle of body over mind. Yes, he wanted to know. He might not have been tied up before, but a dark sense of curiosity was fast creeping up on him. His brain, however, was still clinging to a shred of logic, and wanted to challenge her some more on a different matter. “Is that all this is, punishment?”
He didn’t believe her, and he chuckled softly, eyeing her in mock accusation. “I mean, we’ve seen each other two weekends in a row, doesn’t that imply we’re in some sort of relationship?”
“No.” She glared at him. “I’m an independent woman. I only need men for one thing.” She returned her attention to his body and opened his shirt, clawing his chest, her nails raking over it, sending slivers of twisted pleasure under his skin.
At that point, his brain surrendered, handing over full control of the logic center to his bodily desires. “Oh yes, play rough, Kelly, play rough,” he challenged.
She flashed him a dark look. Shuffling down his body, she undid his belt and fly. He shut his eyes and thanked the heavens. She was going to ride him, the very thing he’d been fantasizing about all week.
She took his dick out, stroking it, sensitizing it. It was rock hard and ready to be inside her sweet cunt. She dropped down and ran her tongue over the head, tantalizing him.
Oh yes, that’s good.
Taking the head of his dick in her mouth she moved her tongue against the underside. She heard him growl, and she moved up to look into his eyes. “I hope you’ve got lots of stamina, Tommy. You’re going to need it tonight.”
There was a threat and a promise there, and it did bad things to him. “I’ve been building stamina all week, fantasizing about this moment.”
She smiled then, but her eyelids lowered, as if she didn’t want him to know that his remark had pleased her. She was a strange woman, but he was finding a way in through her shell, and he was going to pursue it.
“I’m going to undress you now.” She locked eyes with him. “And I want you to remember I bought your time. I don’t want you trying to break free.”
He nodded down at his erection. “I’m not going anywhere until I’ve been inside you.”
She gave a little self-satisfied smile, and it held a dark secret. He sensed it and it made his blood pound. What was she intending to do?
She undid his shirt, leaving it open, baring his chest. She turned her attention to his boots, taking them off, along with his socks, and then she tackled his jeans, hauling them and his Jockeys down his thighs.
Licking her lips, she smiled at him. “I’m fascinated by your body. You’re a prize specimen, Tommy Sampson.”
Pride plumed in his chest. His spine straightened, his shoulders going back as she moved around the bed, admiring him.
When she got closer, he longed to reach out for her. “I can smell you, let me see you.”
He jerked his chin, trying to indicate she take off the robe and get closer. He couldn’t reach her, and that gutted him.
“I’m in charge here.”
Don’t speak. She wants to be in charge. Whatever she wanted, as long as he got to be inside her.
She moved away and began to take off her robe. He watched as it slipped from her shoulders. Her body looked glorious in the red lamplight, a fantasy come true. She pulled her bra straps down her shoulders, reached back and undid it. It fell away, leaving her breasts bared to his eyes.
She hardly seemed to be aware of him watching as she put her thumbs inside her panties and lowered them down her thighs. No showing off, no need for attention. It was as if she were just undressing at the end of a day. Somehow, that was sexier to him than if she’d done a full-on striptease. He had the feeling that he’d be running the scene in his mind over and over again.
She walked back towards him.
“Ride me, please ride me.” He couldn’t help it, the words were out.
“Tut tut, Tommy.” She shook her head, her hands on her hips. They jutted forward, her posture self-assured and powerfully feminine.
That old Modesty Blaise book cover came back into his head at that moment.
“How many times do I need to tell you? You are here for my pleasure. I’m going to do to you…” She ran one finger from his hip to his shoulder, “…everything you did to me…but with style.”
What did she mean? The way she said “style” daunted him for some reason.
“Can you remember what you did to me?” She
looked fiery, lust-filled.
His heart was beating hard. He was getting desperate to fuck her. He was so hard it was becoming painful. He nodded, the realization hitting him. “I punished you, physically.”
I spanked her. Shit. She was taking control in the most extreme way. If anyone can, she can, a devilish thought suggested. Yes, and he wanted to know if she could, he wanted to experience her domination. His dick was up against his belly, distended and hot. “Give me all you’ve got, Kelly,” he rasped.
She smiled, her hand resting briefly on his shoulder, acknowledging his consent. “Roll over,” she instructed, pushing his hips and forcing him up and into a kneeling position.
As he moved, the two twines of black tape crossed, twisting tight like a tourniquet. Resting on his fists, his hands were now locked together within the bindings. He felt vulnerable, naked as he was but for his open shirt, while she stood over him. With his head on one side, he watched as she reached for the bedside table where there was a vanity bag he hadn’t noticed before.
Reaching inside, she pulled out various objects and dropped them on the bed. She lifted a small, black one, about eight inches long. At first he couldn’t make out what it was, but she picked it up turned it in her hands and then pulled on one end. It was some sort of telescopic baton. He looked at the small rubber paddle on one end, and realized. She really meant it when she said she was going to do everything he did to her, “in style.”
“Now I get to have my fun,” she whispered, with a dark promise, stroking his head as she bent over him.
She truly was a wild woman, but right now, she was a wild woman in control. Her power had him firmly in its grip, and she wasn’t even touching him yet. He could barely breathe. His dick was pounding, his balls tight against it. His arse twitched as he tried to anticipate what it might feel like. He watched as she closed in on him, her eyes narrowed and her mouth gently smiling, as she swatted the baton through the air, testing it out.
Without warning, she homed in on her target and he felt the first swat of the whip across his buttocks. The sting reverberated through him, jolting through his joints, making him hot and cold all at once.
What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 7) Page 134