by Ava Claire
“I’m so close,” I said hoarsely, to no one at all since I was still entrenched in this fantasy, where I was giving my husband a private show, starring yours truly.
Waiting for him to reveal himself to me.
Waiting for him to say the words.
“Come for me, Lay.”
My eyes flew open, the white ceiling the first thing I saw as my body went rigid. My teeth razored into my skin. I locked my lips together as I tried to suppress the urge to screech in delight.
Even my head couldn’t conjure up a voice that was identical to Jacob’s. I couldn’t match his tenor, the authority that he put in his words. The passion that rippled over his commands. I was always missing some key note. That bit of Jacob that made me a sputtering mess in real life.
That voice was not a product of my imagination.
I vaulted myself on my elbows, not believing my eyes.
He was in the doorway.
Watching me.
Wanting me.
And from the edge behind his next words, he didn’t appreciate the surprise intermission. “Oh, you’re not done, love.”
My body trembled in agreement, my core aching with a whole new thrill. He’d been there, after all. What had he seen? How long had he been watching me touch myself?
I hummed with a mixture of embarrassment at being caught and the delight in knowing he not only approved, but was turned on by it.
I didn’t ask any of my questions.
I didn’t say another word.
I fell back against the pillow, sighing with anticipation as I pushed my finger back inside me.
Now that his presence was known, he didn’t wait in the doorway. He drew closer, his proximity causing the air around me to crackle with lust. My flesh became electric, all the pores in me screaming for him to come closer. To fade into me.
I was just teasing my pussy, slowing my pumps, only pushing inside halfway because I was trying to ride the wave that would take me to my climax, not crash and burn.
Not without his permission.
“I know you can take more than that.”
I let out a low groan as he gripped my hand and added a second finger to the mix, pushing both deep inside me.
“J-Jacob, I’m so close,” I gasped.
His voice was ripe with lust. “Good.”
I was still looking at the ceiling, but I heard the floor creak. Felt the whisper of his breath on my erotic skin and knew that he was bout to test my willpower. Force me to tap out and surrender.
I kept pumping my fingers as ecstasy made me writhe and pant. I let out a string of expletives that made him let out a moan of his own. When I felt the warmth of his tongue sweeping across my fingers, flicking over my knot of nerves, I nearly lost my mind.
I repeated ‘I can’t’ so many times that the wiring must have gotten crossed because I could. I kept thrusting my fingers inside me while he licked that secret, naughty part of me.
‘Can’t’ wasn’t an option.
My only option was to obey.
To let him possess me with his eager mouth.
I broke the rule...and it felt damn good as I vaulted my hips up, giving him all of me. Taking him deeper.
I settled back on the bed, still panting. The cuffs that I’d intended to tease him with were glommed to my behind.
I flashed him a peevish grin. “Welcome home.”
~
"Nice try," he answered smoothly, "But if you think that gets you off scot free, you are mistaken."
I was still catching my breath, but I wheeled my legs around, lying on my side as I took him in. It only seemed fair that I play the voyeur, too.
I started from the bottom and worked my way up, spending some quality time at the bulging fly of his pants. I knew that if I was still in a bold mood, I would find him hard as a rock and ready to personally explore the path of my fingers with something that would really make me grip the sheets.
I trailed to the glittering chrome of his belt, matching the chrome buckles on the cuffs that laid in a sultry pile beside me. His fingers slipped the belt through the loops and he discarded it, tugging his shirt loose, teasing me with hard earned abs that made me wet my lips and take a deep breath. I skated up the buttons of his shirt, meeting him halfway as he shed the crisp white barrier to the delights underneath. I met his strong jaw, flicking up to the lips that were still wet with my desire, and from the curve that lifted one side of them, he couldn't wait to have more. His nostrils flared and when I reclaimed those blue eyes, so wild with possibilities and want that my knees would have buckled if I wasn't already in bed, I knew that we'd only just begun.
"It seems like my sub had something in mind." Before I could confirm it with a nod and a emphatic 'yes sir’, he blazed on. "That's cute, and your initiative is hot as fuck, but I believe something a bit more disciplinary is in order."
I ducked my head, pretending that I wasn't hoping for some delicious punishment, but he didn't buy it for one second. He lifted my chin from my chest with a single finger.
"I know you well, Lay, and it's pretty clear you know me too, or you wouldn't do something so tantalizingly defiant." He wrapped my dark curls around one fist, winding my long locks until I was forced to stand or be jolted to my feet. He released his hold, his hand cupping my jaw, staring deep into my eyes. Into my soul.
"Are you truly ready to serve?"
The 'truly' was new and it made me hesitate. Was he having second thoughts about dominating me? Was he not ready to step back into that world. "Truly? Yes. But if you don't think we're ready-"
He leaned in and shut me up with his lips. It was more than just a kiss, more than his lips devouring mine. It was a dance, him taking the lead, sweeping his tongue across my bottom lip, tasting my smile, then diving into my mouth. I spun my tongue around his, breathing in his lust. Savoring the taste of my own desire. Sweeping both my arms up to wrap around his neck. I held on for dear life because in his embrace, mouths locked, hearts beating in time, I said yes again. Over and over. His answer was in his touch, the way he gripped my bottom lip and tugged. In the way he kneaded my ass in his hands. The gentleness that he weaved into the fierceness of his hold. He needed this, needed us, just as badly as I did.
He ended the kiss with a growl that made me tingle from head to toe. "Do you have any idea how much you turn me on?"
Since I was already playing with fire, I snaked a hand between us and stroked him. "Mmhm."
The look returned to his eyes with a vengeance. The one that aroused me and made me wonder if I was ready for what he had in store. His smirk, glowing in the dark, told me the answer to that was likely no.
"Wait for me on the bed." He didn't even wait for me to obey, turning on his heels and disappearing into the closet.
"Yes sir," I said to no one in particular, skipping back to the bed. Lying there, wanting him, not knowing what he was retrieving from our trunk of delights and pain was the real test.
I pushed aside the cuffs, trusting that whatever he exited the closet with was sure to rock my world...and then some.
He reentered the room almost soundlessly, but there was a whisper of something familiar that made me whip my head in his direction, eager to discover what was coming.
"Oh my gosh," I eked out, entranced as I watched him unwind a blood red rope. The last time we'd used rope was when he'd strapped me to the St. Andrews Cross, but I knew all too well that it had other use: like securing me to the bed restraint system he had installed. It was very similar to the four poster one in Venice, but modified for our bed's slender, low lines. The two posts at the foot of the bed were stabilized by metal poles that could be raised or lowered, depending on how far off the mattress he wanted me to be. The poles at the head of the bed worked similarly, and while I was well within the max weight the system could support, I still eyed the rope skeptically.
"Are you whipping me or tying me up because cause we haven't tried the bed thing since-" I pointed at my belly.
He
didn't stop unwinding. "Did I say that you could speak?"
I clamped my lips together, but my eyes still had lots of things to say, shooting daggers that he flat out ignored. He separated the four identical lengths of rope and dropped them on the edge of the bed. He worked methodically, raising the posts, one by one. Even though I still wasn't convinced that the logistics of his plan would work, I still rolled to the side so he could attach the comfort swing to each of the posts. When he was done, I slid back to the center, the soft, microsuede cushioning my bare flesh. I'd be more than comfortable but still, I nibbled on my bottom lip.
He paused before he started securing the rope in the silver rings. Despite the silence, my apprehension was all over my face. I expected a terse reminder that I'd said I was ready to submit, and one last opportunity to give my final answer before he punished me for my insolence. Instead, he skated his fingertips along my calves, pale blue eyes darkening with lust, desire, and love.
"Do you trust me?"
I didn't even hesitate. "Absolutely."
And all my worries that I'd break the system and ruin any ounce of sexiness, or that he'd thrust too deep, or vagina air, and every other worry on my extensive list went quiet. The only thing that was left was the lust—and my complete and utter trust in my husband.
He slipped the crimson rope into the rings at the foot of the bed then surprised me when he reached for the cuffs.
I think I thought he was going to modify our usual configuration, but those cuffs told me we were going forward with business as usual...which meant he was planning on hauling me up, like we'd done countless times before. Bound and at his mercy. Spread open to his will.
Trust.
Feel.
I found his eyes in the dark, and I said yes without moving my lips. It was all he needed and he locked and loaded me in the cuffs, interspersing the rip of Velcro and the clink of metal with the gentle graze of his fingertips.
Kissing my knee.
Teasing my inner thigh.
Dancing over my swollen, arching nipples.
Sweeping my curls to the side with a gentleness and care that made me quiver.
His eyes shone down on me as he parted his thick, delicious lips. "You know what to do." And with that, he reached for the tiny remote that controlled the swing.
I felt weightless. Wide open and wet for him.
My skin hummed with anticipation. With white hot want. The swing cradled me, the pillow beneath my head giving me a front row view to the sexiest man I'd ever seen climbing on to bed with two of my favorite L words burning in his eyes.
I couldn't see his cock, but I knew that I'd be feeling it very soon.
He raked his fingertips along my inner thighs, placing his thumb squarely on my clit. Teasing it.
"You have no idea how beautiful you look when you're tied up. Helpless. Mine to do with as I wish."
I sank my teeth into my bottom lip, thinking that he had no idea how sexy he looked when he dominated me. Took the reins and showed me what pleasure felt like. How incredible surrender could be.
I let out a groan as he teased me, drawing the head of his cock up and down my wetness. I needed him inside me. So deep that I forgot where he ended and I began. So deep that everything else faded to black.
He gently rocked into me and I let out a moan because I felt every inch, every bulging vein of him stretching me. Devouring me. His thrusts weren't the frenzied, animalistic things I was used to in the swing. This was different.
This was making love, the way Jacob and I made love. Not with sweet nothings and gentle caresses, but with sex swings and cuffs.
He dug his fingers into my hips and I could tell from his curses, from his touch that he was close.
"I want you to come with me, Leila," he said deeply. "Come with me now."
Like something in me snapped, let go, completely, utterly, I shook so hard that I worried I'd shake something loose. That I'd hurt him, but he held tight, riding the wave of pleasure with me.
The last thing I expected was to hear the beep of someone down at the door.
I was still panting, still coming back down to earth, so I let Jacob do the honors. He pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, stuffing his still erect cock in as best he could.
"And if that's Alicia, tell her she really needs to work on her timing!" I shouted after him.
I laid in bed, pulling at my tangled hair, unable to wipe the smile from my face—until I heard Jacob’s voice hurtle up the stairs for me to come down.
There was something in his voice that made me hustle, yanking on a robe and padding down the stairs.
When Jacob met my gaze, he didn't say a word. He pointed at the screen that had a live video feed. Our surveillance panel. One screen was for the parking garage elevator, the other was for the main lobby and the concierge desk.
The concierge, bubbly and grinning, was facing the camera. She held a bubblegum pink box with a big white bow.
Confused, I turned back to Jacob. "You called me down to look at a present?"
Jacob's voice was stricken with a rage so raw that I felt it in my bones.
"She said the present is a surprise from Lars Eichmann."
Chapter Sixteen
Jacob looked more worried about trusting my culinary skills than Eichmann's little gift.
He leaned against the bar while I busied myself with gathering everything I needed. "Lay, you really don't have to cook." When I didn't answer or pause, he tried a different tactic. "Why don't I whip up something for you?”
I wielded a whisk like a weapon. "Don't even think about it. I am perfectly capable of making a gourmet meal for my husband." I went back to work, lining up a mixing bowl, a block of cheese and butter, a spatula, a grater for the cheese, and a frying pan.
I snatched up the apron Megan had gotten me as a gag gift because my dishes were things of legend. From all the stains on the thing you'd think I was hell on wheels in the kitchen. The tomato stain was a reminder of the time I'd burnt a pot of water and nearly sliced my finger off opening a can. The suspicious looking brown stains? The result of brownies gone very wrong when I was trying to use the stand mixer and coated myself, and the counters and cabinets, with brownie batter.
I was determined to cook the best scrambled eggs either of us had every tasted, because I'd nearly had a heart attack while we were waiting for the concierge to lift that lid, hoping Eichmann hadn't put a bomb or a biological weapon in there.
The box had been filled with onesies.
Eichmann knew where we lived and it was pretty clear that he was toying with us, and there wasn't much we could do about it...so I tried to do what people did when they were grieving. I would make a feast of eggs and cheese and toast, pretend their was champagne in my virgin mimosa, and try to not let the bastard get me done.
I drummed my fingers on the counter, swiping the whisk like a woman on a mission. "I'm ready to go."
Jacob scanned the counter and settled back on the stool with a sexy little smirk. "What's on the menu? Shredded cheese?"
"Shredded-" I slapped my forehead. I had the butter, the block of cheddar, salt, pepper, mixing bowl—and no eggs.
I cracked open the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs. I kept my head high, ignoring his chuckle. Pretending I hadn't forgotten the most important ingredient. "Just making sure you're paying attention."
"Uh huh," he teased.
I made a face at him and he launched from the seat, tearing into the kitchen with mischief in his eyes.
I backed away, right into the fridge, and there was no going anywhere, except through him. I could have fixated on the dread that had ended our post coital bliss, but I didn't want to. I just wanted to fade into his bright blue eyes, let the static lust crackle as he leaned in, his lips so close to mine that our breath mingled and our bodies screeched to just kiss already.
He snatched the air from my lungs, shoving his mouth on mine, slamming his hands on the fridge like he was making his last stand. Refusin
g to let anyone take this from us. To make us live on the edge, biting our nails, waiting for the bomb to drop.
I clung to him just as desperately, balling his t-shirt in my fists.
When we let go of each other, panting, flushed, and ready for round two, I wiggled beneath one of his arms and went for the cabinet, pulling out a glass and filling it with water. Still catching my breath after I took a swallow, I passed it to him.
"I think I'm going to need something from the liquor cabinet if I'm supposed to watch you cook," he quipped.
I snatched up a dish towel and popped him on the ass with it, running him out of the kitchen. "Keep it up and I'll put eggshells in yours. On purpose."
He returned to his bar stool and I got back to work. I cracked the eggs, praying that I wouldn't have to scoop out bits of eggshell. The scrambled egg gods must have known I had a lot on my plate because I managed to crack every single one without incident.
The singular focus of step one gave me the added bonus of having no room to think about the fact that my home was no longer the safe haven I thought it was. Whisking the eggs in silence, wondering if Jacob was thinking the same thing, I couldn't help but state what was becoming alarmingly obvious.
"He's coming after us, isn't he?"
Jacob didn't answer right away, tracing the edge of the granite countertop with his palm, his brows drawn together in deep contemplation. "It appears so."
I stopped whisking, the dread that I'd kept stuffed in that dark corner of my gut rising in my throat like bile. "What are we going to do? Move Pascal in here?" Another thought came crashing through my head like a freight train. "Should we get a gun?"
Jacob gaped at me like I'd lost my ever loving mind. "You insisted on a bodyguard, and Pascal came highly recommended. I am grateful to employ him if it gives you peace of mind, but I will not be moving another man into my home to protect my wife and child."
The finality in his voice closed that topic, but from the way he leaned in, his pale eyes dimming to navy, I knew there was no way he'd let my last comment go unnoticed. “And a gun is absolutely out of the question."
"I don't think now is the time to act all indignant, Jacob. A madman sent a package to our home. Our home. The place where we eat and sleep and..."