by Evie Hunter
She grinned at him. ‘Nope. This is not doing a thing for me. I’m as calm as a nun. Bored with all this. Getting a bit chilly, even.’ Let’s see how he reacted to that.
‘We’ll have to fix that. Go to the freezer and bring back a cup of ice.’
‘Ice? Why?’
‘Why do you think? Don’t sit there hesitating. It’s not as if I’m telling you to go and pick some nettles.’
Nettles? For a moment her brain fogged up. What could he possibly want with nettles? Then she remembered skimming over something when she was looking up figging, about a Dom who made a sub put nettles down her panties. No, oh no, that was so not happening. Ice she could handle.
Carefully, she got up, manoeuvring herself so that her bare butt would be out of the shot. Never mind that he had already seen it, spanked it, kissed it, drew pictures on it; she wasn’t showing it to him tonight. She used the break away from the computer and Jack’s commanding gaze to calm her breathing and slow her pounding pulse.
She hunted around in Kit’s freezer until she found the icemaker and scooped a cupful of ice from it. She hurried back to the sitting room and Jack. Why was it that every time she saw him, he took her breath away? Even on the small screen of her laptop, he dominated the room, dominated her. There was no point in trying to hide it.
‘Good girl. Now rub one ice cube over your nipples. Just enough to get them hard and tight.’
As if they weren’t already. Abbie smiled. ‘Yes, Sir.’
She slowly opened the front catch on her bra, cupping her breasts and smoothing her hands over them. She kept up the tease, doing it all out of view. Somehow, she kept her face straight when he leaned forwards, anxious to see more.
She picked up an ice cube and touched herself with it. It was so cold it almost burned the tender skin of her breast. She hissed and took a couple of deep breaths to absorb the sensation. And still she kept the blouse in position so that Jack couldn’t see. She was on a roll tonight. She knew she would pay, but the idea of tantalizing him like this was delicious.
‘They’re very hard now, Sir.’
He would make her pay for this, and she didn’t care. A reckless surge of audacity made her want to bait him even more. Maybe it would be enough to bring him back to New York.
It took Jack a moment before he replied and then his voice was rough. ‘Very good girl. Now put the ice back, and imagine it’s my hands on your breasts.’ She was, she was. ‘I’m cupping them, feeling the weight of them. So pretty. Pull back that blouse so I can admire them.’
She had intended to torment him for longer, but the vivid blue of his eyes and the roughness of his voice were too much. Her fingers shook when she undid the last buttons.
‘Now put your hands back on the keyboard. Don’t touch yourself any more. That’s my job. Tell me what it feels like to have my hands on your breasts.’
What was he doing? Obediently she put her hands on the keyboard, as if she were about to type. The position immediately made her aware of her exposed breasts. Her arms brushed the side of them, the nipples ached for attention. She shivered, wanting something. Something more.
‘Oh, that feels strange,’ she murmured.
Jack was continuing. ‘Now my hands are sliding down your stomach. So soft. So ticklish. And you can’t stop me because your hands are on the keyboard.’
Abbie shifted in her seat and fought the need to cross her legs. Instead she shifted restlessly, swinging her chair from side to side, too aroused and needy to stay still. ‘Jack, stop doing that.’ She giggled, a nervous sound that had nothing do to with laughter. ‘It feels weird.’
‘Now I’m thinking about your pretty pussy. So soft and bare and defenceless. And so open and wet. No, don’t close your legs. How does it feel?’
She didn’t want to tell him. She was glad she didn’t have to type, or she would be reduced to gibberish. ‘You really are very bad,’ she said, and was astonished at how breathless her voice was.
‘You’re swinging around in your chair a lot, Abbie.’ Did he miss anything? He was relentless. ‘Have you a problem? Still feel like a nun?’
She fought the urge to laugh hysterically. If any nun were caught like this, she’d be expelled from the convent. Jack was there waiting for her answer.
‘No, I do not have a problem.’ She was proud she managed to talk coherently.
‘You have to hold still now. I’m sliding a finger down your pretty pussy, and feeling how wet you are. Naughty girl. You like this, don’t you? You’re panting.’
Abbie wanted to kill him. He was right. She was so wet she was horrified to think of the state of Kit’s chair. She’d have to buy her a new one. But right now, all she cared about were the curls of heat in her belly that were destroying her ability to think.
‘Good girl. You’re doing so well. Stay still like that while I slide my finger inside you.’
She panted, trying to catch her breath, feeling a phantom finger easing her open, moving inside. Her thighs flexed as she fought to contain the feelings pulling her in different directions. And no matter how much she wanted to move, she kept her hands poised over the keyboard.
‘So hot and wet.’ Jack’s praise pushed her arousal up another notch.
‘Oh, yes,’ she moaned.
‘Pick up one of the ice chips, run it down your neck.’ At last, a chance to move, to grab control of herself again. The ice chip was shockingly cold, and her breath strangled in her throat. Drops of melted water dripped from her neck and down her shoulder. Jack’s voice continued, ‘Now hold it flat against your breast, circle your nipple.’
Oh god, it was so cold, she didn’t know whether she loved it or hated it.
‘Yes, just like that.’
Abbie gasped; her submission heated her up even more.
‘Good girl. So good. Now rub over your nipple, while I suck the other one. Feel the contrast of heat and cold.’
Her hands were over her breasts, one hot and shaking, the other holding the melting ice. She shuddered. The contrast was frying her ability to think.
‘Get another ice cube, slowly draw it down over your belly. See how pretty the drops of water are on your skin? Now lower, let it just glance off your clit.’
Blindly, she obeyed his instructions. His voice alone pushed her to places she had never been. The cold was shocking, making her jump and squeal. She closed her eyes. She couldn’t cope with the sensory overload of Jack’s face and voice and the cold of the ice against her overheated skin. She fought for breath, but no matter how aroused she was, she didn’t attempt to close her legs.
‘Oh yes, sweet Abbie. Just like that. Do that again.’
Abbie cried out, an incoherent cry, not sure if she was begging for him to keep going or stop.
‘Now, push the ice cube inside you. All the way. And imagine my hot mouth on your clit, kissing and sucking it. Oh yes, just like that …’
The combination of heat and cold overloaded her nerve endings. She had no idea if she was in pain or ecstasy, she just knew that her body was out of her control.
‘Yes, oh yes. Jack. I want you.’ Wetness, from the melting ice as well as her own arousal, soaked the chair.
Just as she was about to come, Jack said, ‘Stop. Take your hands away.’
No, no, no, he couldn’t mean that. No, it must be a mistake.
She forced her eyes open and stared at the screen. ‘What?’
‘Take your hands away. I didn’t say you could come.’
‘I can’t come? But you …’
His face was stern. Jack was in full Dom mode. He had issued an order.
For the space of ten breaths, Abbie fought with herself. Finally, she sat upright in her chair, feet together on the floor. She glared at him. ‘Do you think this is funny?’ She prayed he couldn’t see the shaking that still rocked her body. Dom or no Dom, she was going to rip him apart.
A key sounded in the front door. She heard the deadbolt being thrown. Oh god, it was Kit. She couldn’t let them f
ind her like this.
She would deal with Jack Winter in the morning. Right now, she needed a cold shower. She grabbed her stuff and ran into her bedroom. As she dumped it on the bed, she realized she didn’t have her panties. She had left them on the desk. Sweet god, if Kevin or Kit found them she would never be able to look at either of them again. She crept back towards Kit’s living room.
‘I just don’t know why you have to be so touchy-feely all the time.’ She could hear Kevin berating her friend in the hallway. ‘You’re supposed to be a head doctor, you know, not a masseuse.’
Kit laughed. ‘What can I say? That’s the type of girl I am. Why? Are you jealous?’
Kevin barked a short laugh. They were still in the hallway and neither of them had noticed her. Abbie inched towards the desk. The blue panties were lying there for anyone to see.
‘What if I am? Jealous, I mean.’
Abbie stopped mid-stride. Kevin and Kit? They had to be kidding. Kit had a sassy mouth and she wasn’t afraid to use it. Sure, since they met a couple of weeks earlier they sparked off each other, but she had never seen Kit get serious about anyone and she was willing to bet that Kevin was the same. She inched closer to the desk and reached out, clasping the scrap of silk between her fingers. Now, to get out of here before she was spotted.
‘Maybe I like it that you’re jealous.’ Kit’s tone was husky.
No. Abbie stood stock-still. This was so not her friend. Not her and Kevin. Mesmerized, she stopped to listen. You will go to hell for this, Marshall.
‘Maybe you should show me just how jealous you are.’
‘Maybe I should.’
The sounds of kissing were unmistakable. Abbie heard the rustle of clothing and Kit’s low laugh. She crouched down low and fled to her room.
The following morning, Kevin was still there. She didn’t have to ask how their date went. Kit smirked at her over the breakfast bar like the cat that got the cream. Although Kevin chatted amiably, his eyes followed every move that Kit made.
They were waiting for her to leave for work before they started round three, or was that four? Abbie gulped down a coffee, made her excuses and left. Everyone was having far too much sex and none of it was going her way. Unless she counted the cyber sessions.
She couldn’t believe that Jack had stopped her from coming. Was he trying to torture her libido to death? She had barely thought about sex before Honduras, now she was like a cat on heat.
When she got her hands on him again, there were several things she planned on doing to him. Most of which involved handcuffs, ice and massage oil. Jack was going to pay for turning her into a rabid sex kitten.
She took several deep breaths as the elevator ascended to the twenty-third floor. It was 8.45am, and not a single message from Betsy yet. Had Earth been invaded? Maybe a race of fashion zombies had taken over the world while she was sleeping.
The elevator doors opened. Betsy’s assistant was standing there, waiting for her. ‘She wants to see you.’
Abbie barely had time to drop her coat over her chair before she hurried to Betsy’s office. Did that woman ever sleep? She had been at her desk when Abbie left at seven the previous night.
The door was open. Betsy issued commands while two nondescript men listened attentively. A sheaf of black and white images were spread across the conference table. Betsy perused them like a connoisseur savouring a fine wine. ‘I like this one. Go with the shot of them leaving the hotel together. You can’t see her face in the car. Good work.’
With a curt nod she dismissed the men. The guys were known in the office as the night shift. Betsy’s personal paparazzi. She let them loose each evening on her latest target.
‘You wanted to see me?’ Abbie asked.
‘Don’t sit down. I want you to go home and pack.’
‘Pack? For what?’
‘LA.’ Betsy didn’t lift her head from the photographs.
Abbie pinched herself.
‘Any particular reason?’ She tried to sound casual.
‘The African Queen story is hot. And there are a few other big things coming up that we need you to cover.’
‘But don’t we have someone there already?’ This was beginning to sound a little bit suspect.
Betsy replaced the photograph on her desk and looked at Abbie sternly. ‘Josh Martin took me to lunch. He told me about the break-in at your apartment and the other stuff.’
‘He had no right to –’
Betsy frowned. ‘He had every right to. Why didn’t you tell me? Those flowers have started to turn up here too.’
‘Oh.’ She knew that the deliveries had stopped for a few days. They were obviously back.
‘Look, this may just be a crackpot with a flower fetish but I can’t take that risk with one of my reporters. You’re being transferred to LA. Don’t worry, you’ll be back by Christmas. Now, go pack.’
She had almost reached the door when Betsy called her. ‘And Abbie, I haven’t forgotten Jack Winter. Just in case you happen to run into him on the African Queen story.’
25
Jack’s phone buzzed when he was in the shower after a gruelling workout at the gym. By the time he picked up, it had gone to voicemail. The caller ID said Abbie. Ever since hearing about the break-in and the threats, Jack had been on edge. He needed to be there to protect her.
Still dripping wet and naked, Jack called Abbie back. ‘What is it?’ he barked, without identifying himself.
‘Oh!’ She sounded surprised. There was a lot of background noise where she was. ‘I thought I would let you know that I’m being sent to Los Angeles to cover the story about The African Queen.’
‘You’re coming here?’ Against his will, his dick swelled.
‘Well, to LA.’ She sounded tentative. ‘If that’s OK with you?’
Oh yes, that was so OK that the other guys in the changing room were pointing at where his erection tented his towel. He turned his back on them and lowered his voice.
‘Does the thought of coming here to me please you?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
He had thought he couldn’t get any harder. He was wrong.
‘Then prove it. Are you still hot from last night?’
There was a pause. She must be in the newsroom with colleagues around her. ‘Yes, Sir.’ Her voice was a husky thread of sound.
‘Good girl. Now go into the ladies’, take off your panties and make yourself come. I want to hear it.’
There was a stunned silence for a second. God, he loved producing that reaction in her. ‘You mean –’
‘Oh yes, I do. Off to the ladies’ with you. Now.’
‘But there might be other people there.’ She wasn’t refusing, Jack noticed, just negotiating. And her voice had changed. This was turning her on. His wild orchid might be vanilla, but she had a wild side, wilder than she realized.
‘Then you’ll just have to be very careful, won’t you? Loud enough so that I can hear you, quiet enough so that no one else can.’
‘Yes, Sir.’ That almost finished Jack. He was stuck in the changing room, still naked, though now a lot hotter. He couldn’t find anywhere private to enjoy this phone call. While the sounds coming through the phone changed as Abbie left the newsroom, walked down a corridor and moved into the bathroom, he found himself a small changing cubicle. It wasn’t much, but it had a door with a lock. He settled in and flipped the occupied sign.
‘I’m here,’ she whispered. Her voice had gone thin, breathless.
‘Now, take off those panties.’ He could hear her put the phone down and the rustle of clothes as she obeyed. He loved that sound. He heard a muffled curse and then she picked the phone up again.
‘They’re off.’
‘Good. Now pull your skirt up.’ More rustles. ‘Up all the way. To your waist.’
‘It’ll get wrinkled,’ she said.
‘So what? It’s only an hour until you go home, right? No one expects you to be pristine.’
More rustling.
<
br /> ‘It’s up around my waist.’
He closed his eyes to savour that image. Abbie standing there with her skirt up around her waist, those long legs made even longer by a pair of fuck-me heels. ‘Are your legs bare or are you wearing stockings?’ he asked. His voice sounded hoarse even to his own ears.
‘Stockings.’
‘I approve of that. Now, let your hand caress that pretty pink pussy. Is it still smooth?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is it wet?’
‘Yes.’ Abbie’s voice was a moan.
‘Then off you go. Slide your fingers into that creamy juice. Put the phone down lower so I can hear you.’ He wanted to be there, feeling her heat and wetness for himself. He fisted his cock, keeping the movement slow, imagining it was Abbie’s hand on him.
Soon it would be. And Abbie’s mouth. And Abbie’s sweet, wet pussy. He couldn’t wait.
‘Move your wet fingers around your clit. Does that feel good?’
Another shaky moan was his only answer. A door banged and Abbie gulped. Someone else must have come in. She had been panting and sighing and occasionally muttering disjointed words. Now she was silent.
Jack could hear faint footsteps, a cubicle door closing. There was someone else there with Abbie. ‘You stopped,’ he told her. ‘That was naughty. I didn’t give you permission to stop.’ She said nothing, remaining stubbornly silent. ‘I’ll have to do it. I’ll feel how your juices are wetting your thighs, and I’ll dip my finger in them. Maybe two fingers. I think you’re wet enough for two fingers, don’t you? I might kneel down in front of you and blow on your clit. I remember you liked that.’
She gasped, unable to keep silent.
Jack grinned. He was turning her on as much as himself. He kept talking, all the time gliding his hand up and down his cock. Abbie was going to pay for this, for arousing him like this.
A flush, a door opening, running water, a dryer. Finally the other door banged again.
‘Now, you’ve got a job to finish, haven’t you?’
Her breathing was shaky. ‘You’re evil.’