Want It Bad: A Kinky Romance

by Melinda DuChamp

  A tugging sensation seized her, as if all her nerves were connected to her breast. She moaned and arched toward him, pulling against her bindings, the handcuffs clanging against the bed.

  “You’re communicating well, Carla. So very responsive.”

  Jake cupped her buttock with one palm. He did the same to the other nipple, teasing her, torturing her. Nipping her gently, he kneaded her butt with his hands. “Spread your legs wider. Let me enter you.”

  She did as he asked, knowing he wasn’t going to push his hard length into her and yet desperate to know what he’d do instead.

  He slid a hand down her belly and against her clit. She was slick, his fingers gliding easily over her, slathering Carla with her own juices. An electric sensation shot through her belly and down her thighs.

  “Ohhh.” The sound erupted low in her throat, and at first, she hardly recognized the voice as her own. “Ohhh.”

  He found her breast with his other hand, tweaking and pinching her nipple, then grasping the soft mound in his hand. “You like this, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” She could hardly keep the word from exploding from her lips. Her legs felt like rubber, and she tried to adjust her footing so she wouldn’t fall.

  Then Jake was kissing her neck, her collarbone, suckling her nipple. He slid his hand deeper, rubbing her clit, his fingers probing again.

  A hollow feeling expanded low in her belly, and as he slid inside her, she tilted her hips, needing more pressure, needing him to fill her.

  He moved lower, littering kisses over her belly, then he was gripping her buttocks again, spreading her legs even wider, and bringing his mouth to her center.

  He moved his mouth, his teeth, his lips, consuming her, devouring her, the stubble on his chin rasping like sandpaper. His breath was hot, his tongue wicked. Grinding his mouth hard against her, Jake penetrated Carla with two fingers. He churned them, then began to thrust them into her.

  Carla pressed her hips into the movement of his mouth and hand. She wanted him to go harder, faster, and as if reading her mind he did, impaling her on his fingers as his tongue lashed her into a frenzy. The driving pulse started low in her belly, spreading out. A roar rose in her ears and filled her head. Her body clenched, the spasm consuming her, claiming her thighs, her back, her whole body.

  Carla cried out, unable to stop herself, something she’d never done with a man before. The wave surged over her, another right behind, carrying her away, ripping another squeal from her throat. Her legs felt weak, wobbly. She gasped in a breath, then sagged against the bedpost, the handcuffs biting into her wrists.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa…” Jake’s arms were around her, propping her up, pulling her against his solid frame. His voice filled her ear. “That was good. Really good.”

  “Good?” She managed to squeak out. “That was the best orgasm I’ve had in…”

  Jake gave her a grin. “Ready for another?”

  “Another?”

  “A woman’s capacity for orgasms is endless.”

  Endlessly feeling this way? Carla wasn’t sure her body would be able to survive it. “I’m not sure I can stand.”

  Jake reached up, unlocking one cuff from the bedpost then the other. He led her to the head of the bed. “Then let’s make you more comfortable.”

  “Comfortable, yes.” Carla’s wrists throbbed, the circulation rushing back into her fingers. She’d just orgasmed more powerfully than she ever had in her life, and yet she could feel her need building again, as if it hadn’t yet been sated. Maybe her body’s appetite truly was endless. Or maybe it was her appetite for Jake. His sexy smiles. His clever hands. His demanding mouth.

  He guided her back onto the bed, his fingers trailing over her naked skin, then fastened her wrists to the headboard above.

  The image of Mrs. Gladstone teased the edges of Carla’s mind.

  Will he bind my ankles?

  Ravage me with his mouth then thrust a dildo deep inside?

  How many times can he make me come?

  Carla liked that idea. Jake was making her come. Tying her up and forcing her to submit to pleasure. She wouldn’t be able to stop him, wouldn’t be able to close her legs to prevent his ravenous tongue from devouring her.

  Her breathing quickened, from arousal or fear, she wasn’t sure, her bare breasts rising and falling.

  Jake moved to the foot of the bed, and she could feel an orgasm building at the thought of what he’d do next.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  She swallowed hard, nodded, and he left the room.

  Is he getting something from the dungeon?

  A dildo like the one he’d used for Mrs. Gladstone?

  The shackles he’d used to bind her ankles?

  Or maybe it was something else altogether.

  Something special for me alone.

  Chills feathered over Carla’s skin.

  A minute passed.

  Then two.

  The delicious anticipation faded, worry taking over.

  Struggling to sit up, Carl craned her neck to peer down the hall. She pulled against the cuffs, pain ringing her wrists.

  Where it had been sexy to be bound to the bed naked when Jake had been here, now she wasn’t so sure. He’d assured her she was in control. That if she wanted, he would release her. But now?

  I’m not in control of anything now.

  If he doesn’t come back, I’d be trapped here.

  Unable to sit up, unable to walk out, unable to do something as simple as scratching her nose.

  “Jake?” She held her breath, listening for his voice, his footfalls on the hardwood floor.

  Nothing.

  He wouldn’t leave me, would he?

  “Jake?” Panic edged her voice. Her lungs felt tight, as if she couldn’t get any air. She yanked against the cuffs, not caring if she bruised her wrists. She had to get out of here. She couldn’t do this. “Jake?”

  What if he slipped and fell and hit his head? I could be trapped here until I die of thirst. Naked, handcuffed to a bed, dead. And before I died, I’d probably pee and poo myself. It would be a headline in the papers. My parents would see it.

  This has gone from the sexiest thing I’ve ever done to the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.

  “Jake!”

  A noise came from the hall. Jake hurried through the door, looking concerned. “Carla, what is it?”

  “I…” She rattled her bindings against the bed. “I can’t…”

  Jake climbed on the bed, the mattress sinking under him. He released the cuffs, one wrist then the other. And then he pulled Carla’s body against his chest.

  Carla rubbed her wrists, her whole body shaking. Red welts circled where the steel had bruised her flesh. She felt a little sick to her stomach. “I have to go.”

  “I was only gone for two minutes, Carla. I couldn’t find—”

  “I have to go, Jake.”

  He pulled back from her, brows pulled low over his eyes. “What was the problem?”

  Carla shook her head. She wasn’t sure. “I just couldn’t be so… helpless and alone. I don’t like it.”

  “Okay, okay.” His voice was soothing, but Carla could sense something else, too. Disappointment. As if he’d expected more from her, and she’d let him down.

  “I need to go home.”

  “Yes, yes, okay. Of course. I didn’t mean to leave you for so long.”

  But you did leave me for that long, Jake. And you did it knowing my past.

  Had it been a simple oversight? An overestimation of my courage?

  Or is frightening me part of the game?

  Jake released her and climbed off the bed.

  Not looking at him, Carla exited on the other side, finding her clothing and dressing as quickly as she could.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

  Heat suffused Carla’s face. “I take it you’ll charge my friend’s credit card?”

  “That’s the way it works.”
>
  “Can I add a gratuity?”

  “I don’t take tips. I charge plenty already.”

  Carla nodded. Here he’d seen her naked, had tasted her juices, and yet she felt more awkward next to him now, fully dressed, than she had all night. “The evening was great, Jake. Illuminating. I’m just not sure this bondage thing is for me.”

  He rolled his lips inward, as if trying to keep from saying something she might find unwelcome.

  That’s fine. Whatever it is, I’m probably not up to hearing it anyway.

  Carla walked to the door, and he opened it for her, as he had the last two clients she’d seen him with the previous two nights. As she walked across her yard, feeling the cool wind off the lake, she wondered if he’d now pleasure himself while thinking of her, or if her freak out at being left tied had chilled his lust.

  She let herself into her empty house, grateful she’d left the foyer light on. After locking the door behind her, she headed straight upstairs, stripped off her suit, and pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt. She climbed into bed, resisting the urge to pull the covers over her head. Instead, she flicked on the bedside lamp and examined her wrists.

  The marks she’d gotten from pulling against the cuffs were already barely visible, the redness fading as well.

  As if the scene at Jake’s had never happened.

  As if she’d stayed home all night, safe in her cocoon.

  As if all she’d experienced was no more than a fleeting fantasy.

  Carla switched off the light. Leaning back against her padded, silk headboard, she closed her eyes. She’d only met Jake days ago, and yet so much had changed. Not between him and her; now that she was his client, there was no him and her. There never really had been.

  No, it was her that changed. And right that moment, she couldn’t tell if the change was for the better or the worse.

  But she had the strong feeling she couldn’t go back.

  Do I even want to go back?

  What do I want?

  Turning the light back on, she threw back the covers and padded down to the kitchen. Her purse was on the counter, and she fished out her cell phone and the card Jake had accidently dropped, and then punched in his number.

  He answered on the second ring. “This is Jake.”

  “Do you have this weekend open?”

  “Carla? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I’m asking about the weekend.”

  “My weekend is open. I scheduled it off in order to finish unpacking, but that can wait. What time are you interested in?”

  “The whole thing.”

  “You want to book the entire weekend?”

  “Yes.”

  “Saturday, and Sunday?”

  “Yes. Both days. I made a mistake, Jake. I never should have left tonight. I only did because I was scared.”

  “Carla?”

  “Will you still have me?”

  He paused for a moment. “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.” She shivered a little, from fear or anticipation, she couldn’t tell, but she suspected both. “I want to test my limits, Jake. Go places I never thought I could. Can you help me do that?”

  “I can.”

  “Then book it. And I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Coffee and breakfast. Ten o’clock.”

  “Breakfast? That sounds lovely.”

  “Good night, Carla.”

  “Good night.” Carla tapped the screen with a shaking finger, ending the call. Then she lowered herself into the closest chair.

  What have I just done?

  Five

  Carla woke up that morning, as nervous and unsure as she had been the night before. The clock next to the bed informed her it was nine; a shock, since she normally never stayed in bed past eight on weekends. She’d slept in the sweatshirt and yoga pants, and after climbing out of bed, she stripped them off to get ready for her shower. Her inner thighs were pink from the rasp of Jake’s stubble, her leg muscles as sore as they were the morning after a vigorous workout.

  Carla smiled.

  It actually had been a workout, hadn’t it?

  She caught her reflection in the full-length mirror in the corner of her bedroom. Most mornings before she dressed, she avoided her reflection. Those times she hadn’t usually found her focusing on abs that could be a bit more defined, or wondering if she was gaining weight from indulging in too many happy hours and desserts with Janet.

  But this morning it was different.

  This morning, all she could think about was how sexy her body looked naked. The thought that Jake had seen her like this made her smile grow wider.

  She padded into the bathroom and climbed in the shower, spending twenty glorious minutes scrubbing her body, shampooing, making the water as hot as she could stand it.

  While shaving her legs she paused at her pubic hair. Her last waxing session had been several weeks ago, and Carla was just about ready for another. She was supposed to meet Jake for coffee and breakfast in half an hour—not enough time to get to the spa. And yet, she really wanted to be smooth, not just for him, but because it always made her feel sexier.

  I’ll do it myself.

  Scooping some of the shaving cream from one thigh, Carla spread it between her legs then followed foam with razor. A touch up here, a touch up there, careful not to get too close to her most sensitive areas.

  She rinsed, looking down at herself. What if…

  A streak of wickedness took over, and with a pull of the safety razor she removed half of the strip of hair that was there. More shaving cream and a few more strokes, and Carla was completely bare.

  For a moment she regretted the bold, impetuous act. She was so, well, naked. But then if sixty-year-old Mrs. Gladstone could go hairless, why not Carla?

  She had to admit, she liked the risk of it. And she couldn’t help wondering what Jake would think.

  Carla caught herself.

  Why should Jake think anything of it? I’m a paying client. He’s a professional providing a service. This isn’t love. It isn’t even dating. It’s…

  Well, it was textbook prostitution. Sex for money. And maybe Carla should feel ashamed. Humiliated. Debased. How pathetic was it to pay for orgasms?

  But when she considered the intensity and quality of last night’s orgasm, ashamed didn’t even come into the picture.

  She giggled. “I’m probably not paying him enough.”

  Carla wished he’d let her tip him. She tipped waiters, and bellmen, and cab drivers, and hairdressers, and always left extra money for the maid. Jake was most definitely in the service industry—Carla couldn’t recall ever having better service, anywhere. She was, at this point in her life, wealthy and successful and able to afford the finer things in life.

  And Jake definitely qualified.

  He was an extravagance, and she was treating herself. Like that two hundred dollar bottle of Sam Adams Utopias—the world’s most expensive beer—that she had in the closet. Or those Gucci pumps that cost more than…

  Well, they cost a lot. A whole lot. And as much pleasure as she got from the Utopias, or the Guccis, she got a lot more from Jake.

  Stepping out of the shower, she ran a wide-toothed comb through her hair then worked in some styling gel and let it air dry. She moisturized her body with lotion, gave her teeth a floss and scrub, and by the time she was done, she felt like a million bucks.

  So… what to wear?

  This wasn’t a date, so Carla didn’t want to dress like it was a date. She opened her closet, but all that jumped out at her were business suits. Stylish, expensive, and impeccably tailored, they made her feel like a professional, powerful and secure, but Janet was right that they weren’t much fun.

  Carla wanted to dress fun.

  She rummaged through hanger after hanger of neutral blazers and trousers and her weekend uniform of tailored jeans, finally finding some color on the end. The first thing Carla fished out was a ratty denim mini from her college days
. Fun. Young. Worth a try.

  She slipped it on without underwear. It still fit, which bolstered her confidence right there, but staring at herself in the full length mirror reminded her of Daisy Duke. All she needed was hayseed sticking out of her teeth.

  Pass.

  She tried another skirt, a beige leather one she’d bought on sale right after she’d joined the firm but had never worn.

  Too long, down to mid-calf.

  “Who would make a skirt this awkward length, and why would I buy it?” she asked herself.

  Pass.

  Next to it was a jade wrap dress, one she hadn’t worn in ten years but loved. Three-quarter length sleeves, just above the knee, a low neckline, fun and flirty and possibly the most comfortable item of clothing she owned besides yoga pants. The only problem with it was finding a bra low cut enough to work.

  Not a problem if I don’t wear a bra.

  Carla smiled to herself then put on the dress. It draped over her curves perfectly, the V neckline accenting her breasts and the light fabric showing just a hint of nipple. Definitely daring and fun.

  She padded over to her underwear drawer. What panties would be best? Cotton and practical? Satin and naughty?

  “None at all,” she said to herself, and a little thrill shimmered up her spine.

  Standing in front of the mirror, she gave a little twirl. The dress clung to her skin, a small breeze lifting the skirt and whispering over her bare skin. Positively decadent.

  For shoes, she went with her Gucci pumps. The most expensive item of clothing she owned. The heels were maybe a bit too high, but she liked how they made her stand more erect, made her back arch, made her butt lift.

  Perfume? No. Just some unscented deodorant. She really liked the smell of Jake’s house, of Jake. And, somewhat embarrassingly, she also enjoyed the scent of her own arousal. No need to cover that up.

  Make-up?

  Carla hardly ever left the house without make-up. She never went full-blown beauty queen like Janet, who wore enough bright lipstick to be seen by orbiting satellites. But Carla did like a deliberate, professional appearance. Some foundation to smooth out skin tone, powder to set it, a touch of blush, a bit of eye liner and…

  No. Fuck it.