by Gina Conkle
“Stand under the hook.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Her nipples turned rosy. Sweet little Abbie might put up a good front, but she liked taking orders. A natural submissive. Tonight was supposed to be about getting relief and erasing memories. I’d told Mrs. Smith I didn’t want anyone long in the scene. The date I bought didn’t have to be a real sub: she just had to act it. Do this shit a while, and you get a feel for the real ones even if they don’t know it themselves. Walk into a coffee shop or a party, and a true submissive stands out the way infrared energy does, lost to the naked eye yet radiant in the right conditions.
Abbie smoldered with it under the red bulb.
Her craving for this, for me and what I could give, vibrated off her body in the slant of her hip and the jut of her boobs. For this being her first time, she took orders well, a woman born to obedience. The science geek in me wanted to laugh at the irony. Infrared was invisible radiation on the spectrum, lower in energy than red light, but fuck me if she didn’t visibly burn in this little red room. She was a pretty, girl next door type, someone you’d expect to marry a nice accountant and settle in suburbia, not sell her body in a tucked away commercial park brothel.
I couldn’t deny she stirred my cravings. My cock almost exploded when Abbie boldly said she wanted more sex. More of me. And she was savvy. She knew what was inside the bag was a delivery system to keep things going. I let out a huff of air. This was good. I connected with a woman without any risks. I could do this.
Crouched beside the bag, my hand hesitated on the zipper. I hadn’t opened it in eleven months. It’d been that long. Until tonight with Abbie. All the old cravings roared inside me.
I fisted my unsteady hand. “Fuck.”
Tonight’s date wasn’t supposed to be an Abbie. She was supposed to be a nameless, faceless Barbie doll I could mess with and leave. When Abbie confessed to almost a year of just touching herself, I’d almost lost it. In the last few months, I’d tried bar hook ups, but never got past women pawing me. I hated it. The emptiness. The grime. My dick barely mustered. Not since Lacey.
Teeth grinding, I’d gone a long time without thinking about her. I wanted Lacey’s ghost gone forever, and for that reason I ripped the zipper from one end of the bag to the other. No one was going to talk me through the morass inside me. Lacey left a huge hole in me, and I was going to fill the void with whatever worked.
I pulled out wool-lined leather handcuffs. Abbie flinched when the small link chain hit the cement floor. To her credit, she didn’t make a run for it when I stood up.
“Put your hands out.”
“You’re gonna cuff me officer?” She smirked, but the tremor in her voice gave her away.
I ignored her playful mouthiness and wrapped the restraints around her wrists. Scuffed D rings encircled wide leather handcuffs, flopping as I buckled the cuffs onto her wrists. Two were badly bent. Abbie’s attention locked on one D ring stretched to an uneven circle.
“Th-that one looks well-used.”
I denied her eye contact and slipped the chain connecting her cuffs over the hook. A kind of fusion happened when we looked into each other’s eyes, and she fed off it. Shit, I did too, but she wasn’t following my one simple rule about not talking. She needed patient schooling.
So did I. Being with Abbie messed with me.
Arms strung high with a slight bend at her elbow, Abbie had some movement. She tested the hook, tugged it, let it hold her weight a split second. Powdery whiteness flaked in the creases of her underarms. Clean sweat and more orange and spicy ginger aromas wafted off her body. The column of her throat stretched beautifully as she eyed the hook, her jugular ticking fast under golden skin.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I said. “Spread your legs.”
Pleasure flushed my back when the soles of her shoes scraped cement. Legs stretched, Abbie’s nose was level with the middle of my sternum.
Blue-green eyes peeked up at me. “What happens next?”
I covered her mouth. “You don’t talk, remember?”
Breath from her nostrils fanned my hand. We stood that way, her face tilted up, brows furrowing. I was about to explain safe word procedures when one tear glistened at the corner of her eye. Shit. One tear threatening to spill ravaged me. A little fear of the unknown was good, but not this.
“We’re not doing this.” I reached for the chain.
“No, no. I can do this. I got scared. This…with you...it’s a lot.” Air hissed between her teeth. “Can we talk through this?” she whispered, her pretty eyes imploring. “Please.”
She was cute and I was not into cute. Smart, alluring, oozing with sexy confidence women, yes. Not coltish blondes with tender hearts. Standing this close, Abbie had the ability to strip me clean. She had no idea the power she wielded, her voice tenuous and eyes big.
My grip on the chain tightened. She wanted me, and I wanted her. Fuck. I was tumbling down a bigger hole, the plan for a simple release long gone. How far would I go?
“Alright,” I said, letting go of the chain. “We’ll ease into this with one rule. You do what I say the first time I tell you.”
“But I can still talk to you while I’m doing it, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
Her body relaxed as mine wound up. The boner in my jeans got harder. I stepped back, eyeing her slender thighs and sleek calves down to her stilettos.
“Your legs…wider.”
She scooted both feet farther apart.
A throb drummed under my skin. The crotch of Abbie’s black underwear didn’t cover her spread vagina. Worn out elastic hung loose, giving me a slivered view of private blonde-brown curls peeking out of both sides of the gusset. Abbie wasn’t up to date on her bikini wax. I hooked a finger on the panty crotch and dragged it to one side, careful not to touch her. Her flat belly clenched when cold air hit her shiny pussy. Despite her fear seconds ago, cute Abbie was a very wet girl.
“Oh, that’s…that’s…” Lids heavy, her voice trailed off.
I backed up and grabbed my Japanese clover style nipple clamps from my bag. Curling my fist around them, I didn’t want her getting nervous. She was already breathing heavy and I’d hardly handled her. I wouldn’t touch. My rules for me were rigid. Little to no skin contact.
Only a woman who belongs to me gets full skin contact.
Abbie gasped when I knelt between her legs. Her underwear gusset bunched up from my stretching it. I tipped my nose closer and breathed her in. Oranges and sweetness mixed with anticipation and sweet sex. My mouth flooded from the need to taste Abbie. I scrunched the black gusset to one side, exposing her again. Most dominants rarely tasted a submissive, deeming the act subordinate. The intimacy was saved for long term partnerships. That I hungered for Abbie’s inner folds, a woman I’d just met, told me I was on my way out of the lifestyle. Fuck if I knew what came next.
Red light shimmered on slippery pearl pink skin. Her clit peeped at me. The little knot was barely hooded, begging to be sucked. Air dragged in and out of my lungs. My breathing was hard enough to stir damp curls. Goosebumps prickled high on her upper thigh. How easily I could kiss each one away…slow kisses were skin was silkiest high inside her thighs. I don’t know how long I sat, knees on the floor staring at her pussy and thighs, one hand holding the crotch of Abbie’s underwear, the other fisting stainless steel clamps. Incandescent dampness slid down the inner wall of her labia, one slow drip after another, the lush drops traveling over glistening flesh. A woman’s private skin was her fingerprint, unique and beautiful to her. Staring at Abbie’s pussy was a secret and a revelation. Breathing in her scent, I accepted she was much more than this place, this night. She was more than the sheltered blonde I’d held when she frigged herself. I was losing control, slipping into a no man’s land of what and where I didn’t know, but Abbie was my guide.
“Mark?” Her voice pu
lled me back.
Heat bounced off me. Static fogged my brain. I looked up. Blonde hair fell around her face, her boobs. Those blue-green eyes were full of questions. At a loss for words, I used the Japanese clamps on her underwear gusset, slowly tucking the cloth to one side of her labia, leaving her exposed with the chain brushing her inner thigh. She wanted sex. With me. Ample wetness didn’t lie. Standing up on shaky legs, Abbie wasn’t the one badly in need. I was.
No, I was a barely controlled mess.
“Mark,” she called to me again as if I was far away and not twelve inches from her body.
“Yeah. I’m here,” I said quietly.
“Kiss me.”
Air gusted out of me. I craved a taste of her mouth. Standing up didn’t matter because gentle, tied up Abbie was taking me down. “It doesn’t work that way babe…you giving orders.”
My voice was taut, reminiscent of how I sounded after a marathon work day.
“Okay,” she said, the chain scraping the hook as she drew the word out. “Would you kiss me? Please?”
She made her request as if my denial stemmed from BDSM protocol. I wasn’t about to explain how lost I really was. I was the guide who didn’t know where I was going, but I’d hang onto whatever shreds of my old self existed and keep going. From the next room, the Stones’ song Angie came through the vent. My brain dulled as my senses took over. Rhythm and arousal slid in my veins. Nothing was going as planned. One hand scrubbed my mouth as I laughed softly into my palm. I was a so-so Dom hungry for vanilla sex.
Sandy blonde hair hid her boobs. I wanted to see her pert curves and touch her hair. Pushing it past her shoulders, Abbie’s hair was soft, the strands falling through my fingers. Goosebumps pebbled her skin down to her bottom. I cupped the smooth roundness of her shoulder. I had to. I had to touch her. My hand slipped lower, a gradual trip cresting on her shoulder blade. I traced the triangular bone twice.
“I can’t kiss you on the mouth,” I said, casually exploring her ribs before my hand dropped ever so casually to the indent of her waist. “If I do…”
I couldn’t breathe right touching her velvet soft skin. When my hand stalled on her ass, I was done. Eyes shut I inched behind her and kissed her shoulder, letting my lips feel her.
“How was that?” I murmured against her skin.
Head lolled back, Abbie’s body fit snugly with mine. “That was nice,” she sighed. “But I was thinking a kiss on the mouth is better.”
My hand slid over her pelvis down to her curved hip, the place I’d hold fast, guiding her movements when I drove my cock into her. Two of my fingers slipped a half inch into her underwear before my hand went higher, and my middle finger dipped inside her tight belly button. I teased the top of her panties with one hand, my husky laugh full of sex. Nose buried in her hair, I could stay this way all night. Abbie was heaven after nearly a year of false starts. My hips rocked leisurely against her lower back, my erection safely inside my jeans.
How much touch could I take?
Abbie turned her head. Our lips were less than inch apart. Red light splashed across her skin, showing microscopic pores. Her nose tipped at me as if a kiss there would sate her for two seconds until our lips touched.
Ass swaying against me, Abbie’s pliant mouth opened. “Please,” she whispered. “It’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair?” My mouth seeded kisses across the slope of her shoulder.
“You’re dressed. I’m not. You get to kiss where you want—” She huffed, pushing up on her toes when my fingers traced her body’s midline to her chin. “—and I have to wait.”
I cupped her chin, my mouth half an inch from hers. “This is what happens when you don’t do what I say the first time.”
“Wha…” Her neck arched, straining to close the gap between our mouths. Her tight ass arched into me.
I slapped the side of her ass cheek. “Should’ve been waiting naked like you were told.”
She blinked at me. It took a few seconds to register. Her decision to keep her bikini underwear on while waiting for me.
“You won’t kiss me over that?”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t kiss you, but you’re trying to top me.” Dazed from arousal, she opened her mouth with what I was sure were more questions. I touched her lips. “I’ll explain.”
Abbie had no idea what she was doing, trying to direct what was happening between us despite being tied up. Sensuality had taken over and like any sexual animal she was reaching for what she wanted. I was no different. We were falling into a pattern of give and take. No power exchange here.
Pacing a tight circle around her body, Abbie’s blue-green stare traced me. I toed off one shoe and then the other all while Abbie watched me with her arms strung up. Forlorn eyes at being denied a kiss told me she was lost in a sea of arousal from touching herself and from mild surrender whereas my equilibrium was shot the moment she’d said hello.
I grabbed the bottom of my T-shirt. Cool air snaked over my exposed belly, and there I was…that feeling. I’m standing on a cliff in Mexico, facing deep water, wondering if I’ll survive the jump.
CHAPTER FIVE
Mark tugged his shirt over his head, telling me I was trying to top him. He briefly explained topping, each word husky and slow, weighed down by the sensual hum between us. I couldn’t repeat what he’d said. Red light showered masculine angles and curves. Tight muscles furrowed under burnished skin. My attention slipped lower to abs meeting hip flexors, forming wide V shaped lines leading into his jeans, a special V that makes smart women dumb. A thin white line topped the waist band of his low slung jeans. That was the only top I needed to know.
He flicked open the first button on his jeans. “You’re not listening.”
“No.” I shook my head, honing in on the next silver button.
Mark laughed dryly as his fingers took their time working the metal buttons. I was beginning to love that low laugh of his. He spread the fly open and put his hand inside his jeans, releasing the plum-red crown of his penis. I licked my lips, wanting a taste of him.
He pulled a foil package out of his back pocket and ripped it open. A condom. At least one of us was thinking.
I stared at his fingers rolling the sheath over his penis. “You know if you unhooked me, I could do that for you.”
He shook his head. “The less we touch the better.”
I stepped forward, the chains grinding the hook. “What kind of rule is that?”
Mark ambled toward me, his jeans slipping lower. More white skin showed but his stiff penis stole the show. I couldn’t see anything else. My lips opened as if my mouth would take him all the way.
“It’s my rule for me, babe.”
If I strained hard on the chains, my nose might graze his. Mark stood a hair out of reach on purpose. I jerked on the restraints, thrusting my breasts at him.
“Now you’re just being mean.” My voice dripped with sex.
Scared Abbie was gone. I hardly recognized the woman I was becoming. Engorged flesh pulsed between my legs. Both nipples tingled at the thought of him playing with the achy tips. And a kiss? I stared at his mouth, pleased to see his lips parting. Mark was hungry too. His pupils were big, black orbs as he took in what I offered. If he touched me anywhere, I’d climax. I was strung up and strung out on him.
I exaggerated licking my lips and his penis twitched. “You owe me a kiss.”
“How do you figure that?” His voice was deliciously low.
“Because you’re getting more pleasure out of this than me.”
His smile morphed into the wicked one I’d seen earlier. The transformation was subtle, a hardening of his features, his shoulders squaring a fraction as he crossed his arms. All signs I’d thrown down another gauntlet between us.
“Your pussy’s dripping.”
“So,” I taunted. “You’
ve got a hard on.”
A low laugh rumbled in his chest. “It’s why we’re here.”
“Then how about we make a deal?”
The line at the side of his mouth etched deeper. “I’m listening.”
We teetered on an invisible balance, the ground shaky underneath us. Air weighed heavy. I pushed up on my toes, straining hard enough both shoes slipped off my heels. Part of me had no idea what I grasped for. And the other?
Honed in laser sharp and certain. I wanted Mark. His body, yes, and whatever else he was willing to give. Tension ratcheted between us, an energy I’d not felt before. Hot, enticing, addictive.
He was more experienced, but I was more honest. What made for better sex?
“I think you want to kiss me, but you’re afraid.”
Another tendon popped out in his neck. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” His voice wasn’t nice, yet I wanted to push him over the edge.
“It means, kiss me and prove me wrong.” My voice got quiet, making him dip closer. “It means kiss me and I’ll follow every one of your damn rules. I’ll keep my mouth shut. I’ll do whatever you say the first time you say it.” I glanced down at the funny clamps he’d stuck to my underwear. “It means I’ll willingly stick my tits out for your clamps.”
The fuck you flame burned in his eyes. He’d shed layers to be gentle with me, now I wanted them back on. That light in his eyes told me what I’d already guessed. Nipple clamps were part of his repertoire, but he’d set aside his wants because he sensed I didn’t like them. My death grip self-hug when he came in might’ve given me away. Could be I was reaching here, but the ground shifted on our square, red lit island.
Mark reached out and clasped the front of my neck with one hand, driving my heels back into my shoes. His palm warmed my skin like a collar. What was going on here was nothing like the BDSM books I’d read…more like a watered-down version, yet what simmered between us was close to a boil. Mark’s adaptations in this room weren’t about me alone. I took a wild guess at what we were doing. He needed to dip into his BDSM world tonight —to free himself from it.