Want It Bad: A Kinky Romance

by Melinda DuChamp

  As soon as they entered, Carla’s focus was drawn by the giant X frame on one wall, the only apparatus in the room she hadn’t yet tried. Funny, when she’d first seen this device, she’d felt a little intimidated. Now the possibilities seemed endless.

  And endlessly exciting.

  “Saint Andrew’s Cross,” Jake said, as he pushed her back against the padded wood frame and fastened one wrist and then the other to the cuffs dangling above her head. “I can make you face outward, like this, or against the wall. But right now, I want to see your face.”

  He kissed her neck, burying his hand between her thighs, stroking and penetrating. “You are so wet.”

  Carla let out a shuddering breath, the excitement of sucking him had already sent her to the edge, and now she careened toward orgasm at record speed. To make it even more exciting, as he worked her body, he began to get hard again. Carla stared at his cock, thinking about how much she wanted it inside her.

  “Oooooohhhhhmyyyyyyyyygoddddddddd…”

  “Remember, you can’t come.” He continued to work his fingers in and out while his thumb brushed her swollen clit. “Not without asking permission.”

  Oh, shit. She’d forgotten about that. “I thought the rules had changed.”

  “Nope.”

  Carla was so close, and his hand was unrelenting. “You’re going to punish me if I come?”

  “That’s right.”

  Maybe that should be a deterrent, but it just wasn’t anymore. Not when she was so turned on. Not when she was this close to going over the edge and soaring. However as much as she might crave it, Carla also had a healthy competitive streak. She wouldn’t give in without a fight. She wiggled her hips, trying to stave off the sensation.

  But try as she might, even sailboats and a cold plunge into the sound couldn’t lessen her need.

  “Ahhhh. Oh please… please let me come…”

  Jake grinned, then turned and walked away.

  Carla thrashed against the cross, the leather cuffs on her wrists holding her fast. Seconds ago, she was afraid she’d come. Now she wanted nothing more.

  It was such beautiful agony.

  Jake circled to the side, where she could no longer see him. When he returned, he held up the ball gag. “Ready?”

  Carla shook her head, and for a second, she wanted to press her mouth closed or yell out her safe word or anything, just so she didn’t have to lose her voice.

  Making love… It’s about sharing.

  Carla drew in a fortifying breath. “You want me to wear the ball gag, Jake?”

  “It’s the last fear in the dungeon that you haven’t tackled.”

  “I’m not talking about me. Would it turn you on if I wore the ball gag?”

  “Well, yeah.” He glanced down at his erection, again so stiff it was closer to vertical than horizontal.

  Her ears hummed. Her muscles clenched. But she could also feel her need wetting the inside of her thighs. “Okay. If you want me to wear it, I will.”

  “No,” he said.

  What the hell? “No?”

  “You’re not ready.”

  “What do you mean, I’m not ready?”

  “You’re doing it for me, not you.”

  “Of course I’m doing it for you.”

  Who would want a damn ball in their mouths?

  “You want to please me.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know what would please me most?” Jake asked.

  “Tell me.”

  “If you wanted the ball gag enough to beg for it.”

  “I don’t see that happening.”

  “Give it time.” He grinned, the glint in his eye giving her a bad feeling something was coming.

  Something she feared viscerally… but knew she would like…

  A lot.

  He threw the ball gag aside and stepped up to her, his chest crushing her breasts, his erection prodding between her legs. He claimed her lips, one second gentle, the next deep and sensuous, the next hard and demanding. His body rocked against her, like he was making love with his lips, his tongue, his breath, his hands, his chest…

  “Ahhh.”

  She spread her thighs, trying to be open to him, wanting him inside. But although he kissed and massaged and rubbed and licked, he didn’t enter her, denying what she wanted even now.

  “There should be a safe word that forces you to give me what I want.”

  He shot her a mischievous grin. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

  Grasping her breasts in his hands, he flicked her nipples, teasing them until they were hard and begging. Then he began to pinch.

  If Carla thought the nipple clamps were intense, this was even more so. She didn’t know if it was the buildup, or if Jake’s own flesh torturing her this way was more intimate than clamps or clothespins, but whatever the reason, her back arched and she cried out.

  In answer, his hands once again slid between her legs, probing, penetrating.

  She tilted her hips, trying to press against him, but every time she moved forward, he moved back.

  “Jake, please.”

  “You have to ask permission to come. Remember that, Carla.”

  She remembered. She just didn’t care. The heat from tasting his cock, the fear from anticipating the ball gag, what he was doing to her now, all of it blended into a mind-altering cocktail, and she just couldn’t get enough.

  Her legs were still free, and if moaning didn’t work, and begging didn’t work, then she would try something else.

  Letting the wrist cuffs take her weight, she took her feet off the floor and jackknifed her body, lifting her legs and wrapping them around Jake’s waist. She pressed her pussy against his hardness, willing him inside.

  “No, no, no. That doesn’t work at all.” Jake pulled back, out of the circle of her legs. Giving her a maddening grin, he knelt down and fastened her ankles to the bottom of the cross, forcing her legs to spread wide, cool air fanning her wetness.

  “Bury your cock inside me,” Carla said, injecting challenge into her voice. If force didn’t convince him to penetrate her, manipulation might.

  “Mmmm.” Jake said, still smiling. He moved up her body, littering kisses and nips from ankle to knee to inner thigh.

  She was so close, so close, that when his tongue glanced the edge of her pussy lips, she could feel the shudder build like an oncoming earthquake.

  “May I have permission to come?”

  “No.”

  But when he brought his mouth between her folds and ground his lips against her, darted his tongue into her, she had no choice.

  “Ahhhhh.” The orgasm seized her, its force arching her body. She thrashed against her bindings and cried out again.

  But Jake didn’t stop. His tongue was relentless, the stubble on his chin rasping against her most sensitive spot, the sensation zinging through her like an electric shock.

  She screamed out, louder this time, and again she couldn’t tell where one orgasm left off and another began, wave after wave taking her. When the shudders finally slowed and Jake stood up, she slumped back against the cross.

  “You came, Carla. And you didn’t ask permission.” He claimed her mouth in a kiss, then spun and walked to the shelf of toys. “Do you know what that means?”

  Carla tried to catch her breath, wanting to be ready for whatever was next. “What does that mean?”

  “It’s time for your punishment.”

  Twelve

  Carla waited, strapped to the cross, every part of her body trembling. He’d refused her the ball gag, so what did that leave? What on earth could Jake have in this dungeon that was worse than that?

  When Jake turned back toward her, and she saw what he held, she started to laugh. “I rate that a one for scary.”

  He grinned. “And for sexy?”

  “I don’t know about sexy, but I’ll give it a ten for beautiful.”

  The peacock feather was long and graceful; a masterpiece of emerald green, yellow
, and blue. The fluffy-looking plumules waved in the air as if they were alive. The marking in its center that resembled an eye seemed to glow with an internal light.

  “Beauty is sexy. But don’t underestimate what I can make it do to you.”

  Stopping in front of her, he rustled the feather in front of her, and the air tickled over her skin, almost too light to feel.

  Carla’s nipples hardened, and she arched her back like a cat meeting the stroke of gentle fingers. “Ohh.”

  “Nice, huh?”

  “Yes. You’re right. This is a ten for sexy. But I really don’t see how it can be considered a punishment.”

  “Wait and see.”

  Starting at the floor, he swirled the plume over her toes.

  The sensation definitely tickled, and she jerked her foot back, the leather cuff holding her fast. A swish over the other foot, and her body reacted the same way.

  “Fun, but still not punishment,” Carla teased.

  “It doesn’t work on everyone.”

  “Apparently I’m one of those people who are immune.”

  He grinned. “Then quit worrying about punishment and enjoy yourself.”

  She rested her head back on the cross’s frame. She could do that. It might be less S/M and more day-at-the-spa, but with a naked Jake wielding the feather, she was sure she’d relish it almost as much.

  The next pass over her toes lasted longer, Jake catching the arch of each foot and circling her ankles before probing between her toes.

  A giggle bubbled from her lips.

  He didn’t stop, moving the feather up her legs. He caressed the inside of her calves, the back of her knees, and then lingered on her thighs.

  Just as the harsh lash of the cat o’ nine tails and pinch of the nipple clamps had seemed to sensitize her whole body, the softness of the feather did the same. Her nerves seemed to be waiting for the stimulation, straining for it. And when it came, her skin tingled and tightened and came alive.

  He edged higher on her thighs, inching closer to her pussy.

  She thrust her hips forward, anticipating the contact, her clit pulsing for it.

  “You want me to stroke you with this, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where?”

  “Between my legs.”

  But, as maddening as ever, Jake moved the wisp over her belly instead. Then he stroked up her right side, sweeping over her ribcage.

  The giggle built inside her, gaining force, breaking free. She pulled against the wrist cuffs, trying to twist away from the tickle.

  He circled her breasts, brushing over her nipples.

  The lightness, the constant movement, it was driving her crazy. Like an itch that needed to be scratched. One second she wanted Jake to stop. The next she needed more force against her skin, something firm, even harsh and abrading, anything but this infernal whisper.

  Not able to control her need. Carla squirmed and her body bucked forward.

  “Immune, Carla?” Jake said with a laugh in his voice. “I don’t think so.”

  He returned to her ribs, skimming her relentlessly, moving up to her arm pits, her arms, her neck. When he grazed her ears, she lost it.

  “Okay, okay. I get it. Stop!” Her giggles turned to laughs, her squirms to thrashes.

  But Jake didn’t listen. Instead he probed every bit of her, tickling and teasing, the sensations building until Carla’s skin felt both chilled and sunburned.

  Then he brought the feather lower, finally teasing at her folds.

  She pulled against the restraints, the caress both delicious and not nearly enough. Every nerve was so sensitive, so awake, and on top of all of it, the pressure of an orgasm started to build.

  And build.

  And build.

  And without more pressure, she knew it would never come.

  “Please, Jake.”

  But as soon as she started begging, he moved the plume away, leaving her throbbing and desperate.

  “I hate you.”

  Jake laughed, swirling over her toes then starting the progression up her body all over again.

  Just when Carla was sure she couldn’t take any more, he abandoned the feather, moving in with his hands. His fingers felt good at first, giving her the solid contact she craved. But as he intensified the pressure, digging into her ribs with his fingertips, laughs spasmed through her, and the desperation returned.

  “Oh, god!”

  She was panting now, not able to get enough oxygen. Her sides ached. Her chest was on fire. But no matter how she writhed and twisted, he wouldn’t let up.

  “Please! Stop!”

  He didn’t stop, touching every part of her with his hands now, her body out of her control. Tears blurred her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. He moved down her sides, between her legs, and an orgasm seized her, wrenching a scream straight from her core.

  Still tickling, his hands slowed, little by little, but she still couldn’t stop laughing, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He picked up the feather again, swishing it over her, lighter, slower, tapering off.

  Carla sagged forward, only the shackles on her wrists preventing her from landing face down on the floor. Her laughing stopped, replaced by sobs, and finally she was able to breathe.

  Jake stood close, kissing her cheek, crooning into her ear. “You are amazing, Carla. So sensitive. So responsive.”

  Carla leaned toward his voice, and he kissed away her tears. Then he was releasing her feet, her hands. Her legs wobbled, as if her body had forgotten how to balance, how to move under her own will.

  He scooped her into his arms, cradling her against his solid chest. She rested her head on his shoulder. He carried her out of the dungeon and down the hall to the master bedroom. Once there, he laid her gently on the bed and crawled in beside her.

  His arms wrapped around her, his legs entwined with hers, his kiss taking her whole. He caressed her with his hands, with his whole body, devouring her breasts, her pussy, and every inch in between. And when he finally slid himself inside her, Carla’s soul sighed.

  Epilogue

  “So are you ready?”

  Carla stared into Jake’s eyes. The sun was shining, the air was crisp, and she had a delicious picnic of cheese, wine, and strawberries packed in the basket Jake carried. And yet, where most people in Seattle would dream of such a wonderful way to spend a Saturday afternoon, Carla could feel dread forming a greasy ball in the pit of her stomach.

  “Sure,” she forced out.

  “That wasn’t convincing.”

  “I am ready. That doesn’t mean I’m not a little nervous.” Carla and Jake had been together for two months now, and everything was going even better than Carla had hoped. They ate dinner together every night, spent the weekends in bed, or in the dungeon. And the sex? It had made her feel like a new woman. Though Jake hadn’t been a virgin since that first time in his bedroom, he still had the same eagerness, the same enthusiasm. Making him lose control was as much fun as when he made her lose control. She’d even tied him up a few times, indulging in her inner top, making him beg for release, punishing him if he came without permission.

  Yep, life had been amazing.

  Up until now.

  “Are you sure?” Jake asked.

  “Whatever you want, Jake. I’m up for it.”

  Jake tightened his arm around her shoulders as they descended the steps to the pier. “I thought that was my problem. Pleasing others. Denying myself.”

  “If I say I’m ready, I’m ready.” Carla tossed him a smile. “What are you, my therapist?”

  “Hey, I thought about being a therapist before I went the escort route. Maybe that will work out yet.”

  “Really? You’re considering going back to school?”

  “I’ve been looking into it.”

  “What will Harry think? We were both under the impression you were going to be a dog walker.”

  “I am. But Harry’s a lazy son-of-a-bitch. Sleeps all the time. And that leav
es me plenty of hours to pursue a second career. I’m thinking of focusing on sex therapy.” He glanced at her and did that cute eyebrow thing. “Although not so hands-on this time.”

  “As long as I have a hands-on arrangement.”

  “Oh, you’re not a client.”

  “What am I then? A neighbor?”

  “No. Well, yes. But I was thinking girlfriend.”

  Carla frowned. “I think I’m too old to be a girlfriend.”

  “Lover?”

  She smiled. “I kind of like that. Very retro. Hey there, lover.”

  “Hey.” He pulled her against him and gave her a kiss, warm and deep and full of promises, and when they finally resumed walking, she couldn’t keep the smile off her face.

  Until she reached the pier…

  And the sailboat tethered at the end of it.

  The familiar tremble started, low in her stomach, and she could feel Jake glance her way.

  Raising her chin, she marched to the edge of the wood planks… and promptly froze.

  Jake stepped into the craft, one foot on the edge, one anchored in the cockpit. He reached for her.

  She didn’t move.

  “Come on. I’ve got you. You can do it.”

  Carla hesitated, her hand in Jake’s, her feet still on the pier. She knew it would come to this, facing her fear, standing toe-to-toe with her guilt. The memories hit her, and she pulled in a long, deep breath.

  “It was my fault, Jake.”

  “What was?”

  “That day on the Sound when I was twelve.”

  “You fell off a sailboat. How is that your fault?”

  Carla had replayed that day in her mind many times. The cold water. The helplessness. But she didn’t dwell on the moments leading up to it. She didn’t let herself think about that. “All my father’s attention was focused on his new girlfriend. Like he’d already moved on, not just from Mom, but me, too. I tried to tell them some of the stuff I’d learned about Mount Rainier, about the ocean, but it was like he couldn’t even hear me, like I wasn’t speaking at all.”

  “He didn’t notice you fell overboard?”

  “No, he noticed.”