“Oh. Well, bye, Mom. Talk to you later.”
“Bye-bye.”
Rafaela hung up the receiver and frowned. She’d have to lay low for the weekend and do a little investigating to see how Josephine and Trent’s relationship had progressed. If the two young people hadn’t at least become lovers by now, she’d be forced to resort to more drastic measures.
8
TRENT ENTERED his living room and smelled the distinct odor of hundred-dollar aftershave hanging in the air. Immediately his shoulders tensed and his stomach rolled over. His dad was here. Any night but tonight. Not tonight.
But the sound of a bad rendition of Tom Jones coming from the shower confirmed it; his dad had dropped in again.
Ever since Trent’s mother had passed away, his father had drifted, pursuing his dream of traveling the world on his boat. But his heart had never really been in it. It was almost as if he missed his late wife, but Trent knew better than to believe that. His parents may have had a companionable relationship, but they’d seemed more like roommates than husband and wife. Trent had witnessed the petty bickering, the lack of passion—and recently the incessant skirt-chasing that proved his dad wasn’t pining after his dead wife.
His father had returned last month from a long boat trip, and after one of those he always got antsy for a real house. He’d drop by unannounced to take a shower, cook a meal, or generally just to meddle in Trent’s life.
These days Trent alternated between feelings of anger at his father for going through women faster than he could count—many of them young enough to be Trent’s sisters—and feelings of pity for his lonely father.
He went into the kitchen to grab a beer, and by the time he’d downed half of it his dad was out of the bathroom, strolling through the apartment in a towel.
“Hey, son, you’re home!” Tony said as he entered the kitchen and gave Trent a mock punch in the shoulder.
His father was a big man, still solid muscle even in his early fifties, with the dark tan of an avid sailor. He took pride in his appearance and even with salt-and-pepper hair, Tony O’Reilly could still manage to catch the attention of plenty of women when he entered a room.
“Hey, Dad. You could have called first. I’ve got plans in the apartment tonight.”
His father pulled eggs and cheese from the fridge and started searching the cabinets for, Trent assumed, a pan. He finally found a skillet and fired up a burner. “Good to see you, too. Don’t mind me—you won’t even notice I’m here.”
“I have private plans.”
Trent had two brothers, Drew and Jake, who’d both moved to landlocked areas after finishing college. It made it much harder for their dad to make his infamous drop-in visits that way. While Trent appreciated having his father around, it was the drop-in, unexpected aspect of his visits that tended to cramp Trent’s style. Denver was suddenly starting to sound like a nice place to live.
Anthony proceeded to make an omelet as Trent downed the rest of his beer. His father sang his rendition of Tom Jones’s “Sex Bomb” while he cooked, totally off key and oblivious.
When he finished and sat down to eat, he took one look at Trent’s face and laughed. “Don’t worry, boy. You got a lady coming over? I’ll be out of your hair in a half hour, tops.”
He hadn’t wanted to admit to his father that he had a relationship with anyone, since that invariably invited meddling. But a woman coming over was the one reason Tony would willingly vacate the premises, no questions asked. He’d never want to interrupt an evening with a lady.
When his father finally left, Trent scrambled to get rid of the funky smell in the apartment, dispose of empty pizza boxes, and straighten up enough so that Josie wouldn’t think he was one of those guys who was helpless around the house without a woman. He didn’t feel like examining why her opinion mattered so much, but he feared it had a lot to do with that fuzzy feeling in his gut that appeared every time he thought of Josie lately.
He was about as good at this revenge stuff as a lovesick puppy.
Josie arrived right on time, wearing a trench coat belted at the waist. Trent was just as aware as the next guy what women generally wore underneath trench coats when they showed up at a guy’s door, and he wasn’t sure whether to thank heaven or to run for the hills.
“Hey, come on in,” Trent said, unable to tear his gaze away from her black pantyhose-clad calves that led up to…what? He was dying to know.
She entered, carrying a large black bag that she placed beside the couch. And when she noticed his curiosity she explained, “This lesson involves a few, um, props.”
Interesting. Memories of Trent’s short stint as Josie’s slave-boy assistant appeared, and he wondered if these would be props he recognized.
“Can I take your coat?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m a little chilly, actually. Maybe in a few more minutes.”
“Suit yourself. Want anything to drink? I’m getting myself a beer.”
“Don’t bother,” she said. “You won’t be able to drink it.”
Trent stopped in his tracks halfway to the kitchen, an image of himself in a dog muzzle flashing in his mind. “Because?”
Josie smiled a seductive smile and began to unbutton her coat. “Tonight’s lesson is about the eroticism of control—or lack of it.”
She opened the coat and shrugged it off her shoulders, revealing a black lace bustier of the sort he’d imagined naughty French maids wore. She had on matching black lace panties and a garter belt that held up sheer black hose.
“I don’t guess I’ll get to be the one in control.”
She came toward him. “I think you have issues with letting go, so we’re going to work on that tonight.”
“Let me just say right now, no more whips or muzzles.”
She stopped in front of him, only inches away, and motioned to a dining room chair. “Of course not. Now have a seat and we’ll get started.”
If he gave Josie control, his revenge plan would be out the window, but he couldn’t summon the will to care. They’d both suffered enough, hadn’t they?
Trent sat and she straddled his lap. The sudden intimate contact, the heat of her body against him, was nearly too much. He slid his hands around her waist and cupped her buttocks. His cock instantly grew hard.
She shook a finger at him. “No touching, not until I give you permission.”
“But you get to touch me?”
“Mmm-hmm. Wherever I want.”
Oh, yeah. Trent could dig this forceful side of Josie.
“All sexual relationships are a balance of enticement and satisfaction, temptation and release, control and abandonment—the ever-shifting power struggle between man and woman.”
With that, she was up off his lap and rummaging in the mysterious black bag. She withdrew a familiar-looking pair of handcuffs and a red scarf.
“Is that what we’ve been doing all this time? Having a power struggle?”
“Maybe,” she said.
“Excuse my language, but that’s a load of psycho-babble crap.”
Josie frowned at him. “This is all part of the lesson. You want my expertise, right?”
He nodded, more than ready to play along with her game, even if he did think she was full of it.
“Then don’t ask questions, just do what I say. We can discuss the lessons learned at the end.”
She tugged his arms down and behind the chair. He felt the handcuffs fasten around one of his wrists. Then she slipped the free end through one of chair slats and cuffed the other wrist.
“You’re becoming quite the bondage expert.”
She sighed theatrically. “All for the sake of your education.”
Next came the scarf to cover his eyes.
“Is that really necessary?” he said as she secured the scarf.
“Absolutely. When vision is impaired, the other senses are heightened. And I told you not to ask questions.”
“I thought all teachers liked curi
ous stu—”
She cut him off with a soft, slow kiss. And then she was gone. A moment later music began to play on the stereo, a slow jazz tune, and he could hear the barely audible fall of her footsteps on the carpet as she returned to him.
And then she was unbuttoning his shirt, opening the fly of his jeans. Trent let out a soft groan when her hand brushed his erection through the fabric of his boxers.
Her breath tickled his neck and she whispered, “Do you like it when I touch you there?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice strained. “I do.”
She slid her hand down his thigh and back up, but avoided his groin and continued up his belly to his chest. Lightly she pinched one nipple, then the other. She pulled aside his shirt and her hair brushed against him as she tasted each nipple, then trailed kisses up his chest to his neck.
When her hand found his penis and began to massage softly, Trent gasped and let his head fall back.
“Would you like it if I touched you there with my mouth?”
He groaned. “Yes,” he managed to say.
She had complete control over him, and not just physically. He couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d ever wanted to seek revenge against her.
A moment later he felt her lips on the head of his penis, then her tongue, and he lost all sense of reason. She took him into her mouth and began a rhythmic movement, her tongue teasing, coaxing him to release.
His wrists strained against the handcuffs, he so desperately wanted to take her and find release, but then she quickened her pace and he felt the great rush of his climax coming.
“Stop!” he gasped. When he came for the first time with Josie, it wouldn’t be like that.
And then her mouth was gone. The ache of its absence consumed Trent, but he wanted her now. Not just her teasing.
She removed the blindfold and he blinked in the soft lamplight. She stood over him, watching him catch his breath.
“You liked that.”
“Yeah,” he croaked, still gasping.
“You’ll need your sight for what happens next.”
Trent smiled. “I can’t wait.”
“But you’re not satisfied.”
He closed his eyes and let out a ragged breath. Way to state the obvious, Josie.
“We’ll work on that,” she said in a whisper.
She started to unfasten her bustier, her gaze never leaving him. The garment fell around her ankles and she stood in front of him in nothing but her black lace panties, thigh-high hose and high heels. She trailed her fingers along the full undersides of her breasts, over her erect nipples, then downward, until they dipped inside her panties.
Immediately his erection strained to be inside her. He heard his own breath coming out in shallow pants.
She straddled him again, this time careful not to let their bodies come together. With one hand slowly massaging between her legs and the other gently caressing her own breast, she let her eyes close and her head fall back.
Trent gasped, “Please…”
But she ignored him. Her pelvis began to gently rock to her own rhythm, and as her breathing quickened she opened her eyes slightly and watched him watching her.
Trent’s heart raced as he witnessed the irresistible show, and he strained against the cuffs again, his penis rigid and begging to be inside her. She stopped massaging between her legs and brought one of her still-damp fingers to her lips and tasted. Then she offered her finger to him.
“Would you like to taste how hot and wet I am?” she whispered.
He took her finger into his mouth and savored the taste of her. His cock throbbed with each heartbeat.
She leaned over and brought her lips to his ear. “Would you like to be inside of me now?”
Trent closed his eyes, admitted to himself that it was time to surrender. To hell with revenge. He wanted Josie.
“Yes,” he said. “I want to be inside you.”
JOSIE COULDN’T DO IT. Trent’s acceptance of her intimate invitation brought reality home to her. No longer was this just an elaborate tease game, no longer could she ignore the truth. Here they were, about to have sex finally, after all these years.
She was terrified.
Visualize, Josie. Visualize.
She closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply. The mental image she’d formed earlier of making love to Trent popped into her head, and she focused on it.
You can do this. You won’t run away this time.
Josie opened her eyes and found Trent watching her. Only inches away. She tilted her head and planted a hungry kiss on his lips.
Yes, finally, she would have Trent.
She ached with a need so great it caused her hands and knees to tremble as she stood to rid herself of her panties and to take a condom from her bag. Then she climbed back onto Trent’s lap. She fumbled to remove the condom from its wrapper, hoping she appeared more expert at the task than she felt. When she slid it over his erection as if she knew exactly what she was doing, she breathed a sigh of relief.
She shifted and felt his rock-hard penis press against her. With another slight shift of her hips, he was gliding inside. She savored the stretching, the sweet force of his body entering hers. It was even better than she’d imagined.
Trent gasped as she began to move her hips. She kissed him deep and long, letting their moaning and breathing intermingle until it was impossible to tell who had made a sound.
She was doing it! She’d conquered her fear, she realized suddenly, and just as quickly as the coherent thought came to her, it disappeared in a fog of heavenly sensations.
They were one, as she imagined soul mates became when they made love. Their bodies fit perfectly together, bonded by pleasure, the heat between them creating a chemical reaction of unimaginable proportions.
She experimented with her newfound power, moving quickly and then slowly, bringing Trent close to climax and then pulling back, while they took turns exploring each other with their mouths.
“You’re killing me,” he said when Josie quickened the pace one last time, unable to take the anticipation any longer.
She clung to Trent as she felt herself coming closer to release, coming so fast it was nearly impossible to slow down.
Trent let his head fall back against the chair, his breathing ragged and shallow. “I’m going to come,” he whispered.
“Me, too,” Josie found the sense to say just before her muscles began to contract around him.
She held on tight to him, crying out, insensible, lost.
His climax came then, too, and he muffled their gasps with another kiss, this one desperate and searching.
After their release, they sat, still locked together, Josie draped over Trent’s shoulder, their bodies spent.
She’d been right all these years. Making love to Trent was everything she’d been afraid of. It was a complete loss of control, even when she had him bound to a chair.
And it was better than she could have imagined.
When they recovered, she let him out of the handcuffs and he led her to the bedroom. As they explored each other’s bodies together this time, equally in control, Josie marveled that Trent seemed to be a fast learner. He knew his way around her body like an expert, not a fumbling novice in need of sex lessons.
She deserved some sort of teaching award, if all Trent’s newfound skills were thanks to their few lessons together. She was one heck of a sex instructor. But she had a nagging feeling that wasn’t the whole story. There was something Trent wasn’t telling her. Whatever it was, she’d get it out of him eventually.
There were always the handcuffs.
They made love slowly one more time, and once more after that, then fell asleep in each other’s arms.
She awoke later to the sound of a cat howling outside somewhere. She watched Trent sleeping, tried to imagine what it would be like if they were there as two people in love, not as a student and instructor. An emptiness filled her chest, so she forced her thoughts to so
mething more positive.
She’d done it!
The fact that she and Trent had finally made love was hard to completely wrap her mind around, but still, she’d gotten past that fear. There was no stopping her now. Josie smiled and stretched. Finally, her dry spell had come to an end. She had a sex life again, one better than she’d ever imagined.
She slipped out of bed and padded quietly across the floor to the bathroom. Trent’s steady breathing was the only sound in the darkened apartment. She flipped on a light and closed the door quickly and silently to avoid waking him.
In the mirror, she saw that her lipstick was gone and she had a faint red rash around her mouth from Trent’s five o’clock shadow. Her hair stood out around her head, giving her the mussed look of a mental patient, and a little voice in her head shouted, That’s exactly what you are!
Reality came crashing in. She’d just traded sex for the rent! She could hardly recognize herself as the woman she’d been earlier, clad in black lace and bent on seduction. Somewhere along the way, between gathering up her “lesson materials” and handcuffing Trent to the chair, all her common sense had flown straight out the window.
Yet her body felt intensely relaxed. She would have loved to curl up with Trent and sleep until morning, but that would require her to face him in the clear light of day. She wasn’t ready to face the man with whom she’d had to take such extreme measures to get into bed.
Josie turned the faucet on low and splashed cold water on her face. The icy water sent chills through her. When she felt sufficiently alert, she dried her face, switched the light off and ventured out into the apartment to search for her discarded clothes.
The garments formed a trail across the living room, leading Josie closer and closer to the door as she gathered up the lingerie. Pulling a street outfit out of her duffel bag to wear home, she finished dressing and carried her bag to the door.
When she unlocked it and stepped into the cold night air, she felt a momentary urge to stay. But no, she had to go.
The clock in her car read four minutes past midnight. Time for her to go home to rest up for work the next day. But Josie knew the wired feeling she had now meant insomnia, and there would be no point in trying to sleep. She’d left her laptop at work, and on it were her spreadsheets and other business documents. She could use her sleepless night to get some work done, so she made a right turn and headed toward the center.
Pleasure for Pleasure Page 12