That Filthy Book
Page 8
Seven o’clock rolled around, in the slow way hours do when you’re excited about something, and I went about our usual nightly routine, bathing the girls and reading them a story. Once I’d closed their door and made my way downstairs, I had no idea what the books had been about. A touch of guilt got to me then—I’d been thinking of bundling the girls into bed and whilst doing it I hadn’t given them my full attention.
In the kitchen, I lit the hob to reheat a beef casserole and put a pan of water on to boil for the potatoes I’d already peeled. With Jacob working late, I didn’t want him coming home to a dried-out meal, or eating alone as he usually did. As the food cooked, I laid the table in the kitchen nook, placing a stout church candle in the centre and lighting it. We could chat about his day while we ate.
And then chat about mine.
Pleased I’d taken another step towards ‘us time’, I left the table and finished preparing dinner, my stomach contracting at the sound of his key in the lock. Was it silly that I felt like this, like a giddy schoolgirl who couldn’t wait to divulge a secret? It was nice, this feeling, this new life we’d allowed ourselves. I waited with bated breath for him to go upstairs as he always did when he’d been working late, peep in on the girls, then return down here to me. In the past, he’d have found me sitting on the sofa watching TV alone, or reading, having already eaten. Things would be different from now on.
Only two minutes had gone by and he was already standing behind me, hands spanning my waist, his lips brushing up and down the side of my neck. I wanted to abandon dinner, turn to him and be held close, kiss him and forget the casserole and the table awaiting us in the corner. But a slow seduction called louder, eking the evening out so it would stretch on forever. Making me want him even more than I already did.
“Hey, you,” he said against my ear. “Something smells good.”
A shiver went through me. The good kind that tingled my skin and exited through the tips of my toes. “That’ll be the beef.” I stirred the casserole and switched off the heat, trying to act casual when all I wanted was to throw myself at him.
“That and you.”
I smiled. God, I loved him.
“How come there’s so much food?” he asked.
“I thought we could eat together when you work late. Take a breather just for us, instead of me in the living room, you out here. I don’t want to lose what we’ve found again.”
He squeezed me, brushed his cheek against my head, and a lump came unbidden to my throat. I thought of how, if we’d continued the way we’d been before, we could have lost so much. Maybe even found we had nothing in common anymore and taken the path to divorce. It had happened to so many of our friends. Damned if I’d let it happen to us.
He kissed the top of my head then moved away, leaning his elbow on the countertop as I walked to the sink and drained the potatoes. I blinked away the sting of tears and told myself we would be okay so long as we made time for one another. That was the key.
I knew he was watching me, watching my movements. His stare burned deep from behind, bringing back the memory of going outside and imagining him behind me in an entirely different way.
Fuck, could I get through this evening, holding back what I was bursting to tell him until after we’d eaten? As I dished up the food, I decided I could.
“Want some help?” he asked.
“You could pour some red wine.” I smiled at him, loving the sight of every single angle of his face, his slightly stubbled jaw, the dark smudges under his tired eyes.
“Wine? Wow, we’re going for it tonight.” He reached into the drinks cupboard for a bottle, then went to get two glasses.
“Glasses are already out. I laid the table, look.”
He glanced over to the nook, eyes widening a little. A slow grin spread, and he turned his head to look at me. “Do you have something in mind I’m not aware of?”
“I might have. You’ll just have to wait and see.”
A couple of minutes passed, Jacob pouring wine, me taking our meals to the table, and we sat, talking about his day, how Gerald, some new, irritating section manager, had riled him yet again.
He sighed. “Still, I’m home now. Work doesn’t come into it.” He chewed on some potato, swallowed, then took a sip of wine. “How was your day, love?” Before I could answer, he stared at a clear vase beside the candle. “And what the hell is that doing on the table?”
I fought the urge to laugh. At last, he’d spotted the branch.
“Oh, that’s a part of my day…”
Chapter Eight
It seemed Lady Luck had joined us for our journey, giving the green light for all our needs to be met only three days after my confession of what I really wanted him to do with that branch.
Jacob’s parents had asked if they could take the girls to a circus on Saturday night. It started at eight, didn’t finish until ten, so they’d suggested it was more sensible that they keep them until Sunday morning, possibly Sunday afternoon if the children fancied having a roast dinner with them at the local pub.
I was not about to turn that opportunity down, especially when Jacob had been hot for the idea of outside sex. In fact, he’d been more than up for it, and the excited glint in his eye when I’d held up the carefully stripped bark had sent a tremble to my very core. Something told me I’d hit another very dark and very sinful nerve of his.
But always one to think of others, Jacob had already promised to help a work colleague move house on the Saturday. I didn’t mind too much because it left me with an empty afternoon to prepare for our evening of fun. I started with a pamper accompanied by a glass of wine, treating myself to a cucumber face mask, sugar body scrub, shave—including my pussy—manicure and pedicure and finally a generous slathering of body butter.
It left me feeling tingly and smooth, as if my body was honed and prepared. The thought of my silky, clean skin and perfectly neat red nails out in the open, amongst dirt and leaves, with the sootiness of bark mould smudged randomly over my body had me panting with excitement. I could just imagine mud squelching around my toes and the creamy skin of my wrists worn red by ropes. And the image of my arse marked raw by the branch, well, that had me feeling like a sacrificial offering.
For I knew that this evening I would be handing myself over to nature, to Jacob, and to my own darkest desires. The bare bones of my soul were about to be revealed. No holds barred, no chance to hide. They were the very skeleton of me that only Jacob would ever set eyes on.
When the dipping sun sent lilac and crimson fingers darting over the horizon I was ready—more than ready. I’d had a light tea and another glass of wine, resisted the temptation to masturbate—just—and saved myself for my husband.
The front door opened with a whoosh, then shut with a resounding slam. I spun from the kitchen window where I’d been staring at the darkening copse.
The copse that was ready and waiting.
Heavy footsteps banged down the hall. Loud and resolute, the sound reverberated around my head.
This was it. There was no turning back.
I didn’t want to. Not for anything.
The door swung open, and there he stood, with his broad shoulders filling the frame and his head bowed slightly. He pulled his brows low and set his jaw. A small muscle flexed and unflexed in his cheek.
“Get down on your knees, bitch.”
I gasped at the completely thrilling sound of his bad man’s voice and folded my legs until my knees landed on the freshly swept lino. He was so feral, so dominant, not Jacob the protector, the carer. No, tonight I had Jacob the master, the taker, the giver of sinful pleasure.
Between one breath and the next he was in front of me, his groin level with my face and his hands on his hips. The scent of man and hard physical work washed over me, as well as perhaps a hint of a greasy spoon cafe where he’d no doubt been treated to pie and chips for the efforts of his day.
“Take out my cock.”
I reached for the buttons on
his jeans, surprised to see that my hands trembled. Excitement? Trepidation?
This had not been part of any plan, but I wasn’t complaining. In fact, there wasn’t a plan. All Jacob had asked was that I trust him. He said that he understood what I wanted and would make it all happen for me. Of course, we had a safe word, but I couldn’t imagine I would need it. I trusted Jacob with my life and my pleasure. I always would.
“Hurry up,” he said, tangling his fingers in my neatly brushed, softly conditioned hair. “Take it out and suck it.”
After I freed his cock, his length sprang into my palm, hot and thick, and the purple veins winding up the shaft bulged with his keen arousal.
In a sharp movement, he jerked forward and the tip slid into my salivating mouth. “Wider, whore,” he snarled. “Take me, all of me.”
I stretched my jaw and he sank deep, sliding to the back of my throat in one urgent movement. I gagged but he ignored it; pulled back then rode in again, all the time holding my head in a tight, vice-like grip so I had no choice but to take him, tip to base.
I’d sucked on Jacob’s cock a million times, but never had he taken control like this. He was always respectful and deathly still, allowing me to determine depth and pace. But this was different—this was sinful, depraved Jacob fucking my mouth without a thought for my well-being.
I adored it.
Needing support as my body was jostled by his thrusting hips, I gripped his thighs. Saliva ran down my face and neck onto my red blouse, my nose repeatedly buried in his wiry pubic hair.
He steamed on and on, hissing and cursing above me. Breathing was difficult, my mouth was so chock-full of hard, demanding cock. When I did catch a breath the air was heated and smelt of him, musky and raw.
“Get fucking ready for it,” he snarled, thrusting to such a depth his balls slapped against my chin. “I’m going to come down your throat. I’m going to fill you up, now…argh…fuck…now.”
He let out a garrotted cry as his cock swelled further, then, in several sweet pulses, copious amounts of fluid gushed over my tongue. I swallowed rapidly, the action tugging the crown of his cock further down my throat.
“Ah, sweet…fucking…Jesus,” he hissed, gripping my hair. “That’s it, keep sucking, swallow me.”
I did as he asked. My body quivered, and I could almost come myself just from the feel and taste of him climaxing so hard and forcefully. Had he lain there all those millions of times I’d sucked him off, restraining himself? Had he wanted to throw me down and fuck my mouth in a hard, abandoned way, but resisted?
I didn’t have time to dwell on this because Jacob pulled out, gripped my upper arms and dragged me into a standing position. Gasping, I stared into his flushed face. His mouth was parted as he drew in big lungfuls of air. His eyes sparkled, the pupils wide and dilated, showing me the dark depths of his most basic needs.
“That’s just the beginning,” he said in a rasping, breathy voice. “To take the edge off what you’ve had me thinking of for three days.” He slanted his mouth down hard over mine, taking possession of my lips and tongue in a furious, ravenous kiss. He pulled away abruptly. “You’re such a tease,” he muttered, “tempting me, turning me on. Well, now you’re going to get it. You’re going to get punished for making a man want you so bad it hurts his soul.”
Fisting the lapels of my silky blouse, he stared down into my eyes. There was a sudden yank and my body jolted, air banged from my chest and buttons pinged onto the floor.
“You really don’t need clothes,” he said with a depraved grin. “Not for what’s going to happen to you.”
With another hard, ripping tug, my blouse was off and thrown across the kitchen work surface. I hadn’t bothered with a bra and my breasts hung heavy and aroused, dappled in shadows from the setting sun. I breathed quickly in short, snatching gasps, and my breasts were jostled with each intake of air.
“And these,” he growled, snapping the button free on my trousers. “Get them off.”
Hurriedly I complied, dropping them around my ankles so that cool kitchen air fanned over my bare pussy.
He tucked his softening cock away and twitched his brows as he registered my lack of pubic hair, but made no comment regarding the plump lips that peeked, softly rounded, from between my thighs.
“Outside,” he said in a husky, dangerous voice as he glanced at the darkening window. “Get outside where I can give you what a slutty tease deserves.”
He reached for my arm, and I stepped out of my trousers before he jerked me across the kitchen. His hold was rough and strong and sent a whole host of longing raging through my veins.
He flung open the door and marched out onto the bricked path that led to the patio area, then on towards the wilderness section of the garden.
The sensation of being naked, outdoors, for the first time was as exciting as it was illicit. It made me feel both vulnerable and empowered, a weird combination of emotions.
“Hurry,” Jacob said, stepping off the path onto the grass.
The damp, dewy blades gripped my bare feet like fingers, and the feel of soft, cold mud beneath my soles was mushy and alien. I took a few jogging steps to keep up with him. My breasts jigged, as did my thighs.
The still air was a vast void of cool darkness that I’d suddenly become immersed in. My skin responded with goosebumps, as I’d known it would, but I didn’t care, as I’d known I wouldn’t. The heat raging in me was like a furnace. Bright and burning, enough to heat even the most freezing of nights.
We reached the copse. Jacob’s big boots stomped over twigs, snapping them and shifting them out of his way. His breath was heavy; a slight fog misting from his mouth. Eventually, he stopped between the two trees that had been the centre of my sinful thoughts of late.
“You will only make a sound if I give you permission,” he said, positioning me between the two slim trunks. “If you make any other noises you will be punished even more than you’re already going to be.”
I swallowed tightly and nodded.
He grunted before reaching for my left wrist.
Allowing myself to be handled like a puppet, I stood stock still on crisp leaves and dank earth as he wrapped a thick rope around my forearm. It was scratchy and hard, not at all pliable. He looped it over the first branch so that my arm was held up high. He repeated the action with my right wrist, silently, efficiently; so that both my upper limbs were out-stretched in a high crucifix position.
He stepped away and I heard the scrape of his lighter as he lit the four fat church candles I’d stood on squat bricks earlier. Instantly, a warm, golden glow bathed the cold woodland floor and flickered up the front of my harnessed, naked body.
“Mmm,” he said, tugging his bottom lip with his teeth and studying me. “Perfect.”
I swallowed tightly and breathed in the mulchy, earthy scent enveloping me. My clit swelled, trying to peek from its hood, and my nipples strained forward, the chilly air a caress to my feverish, needy body.
“Now I can do whatever I want and you can’t do a thing about it.” He lowered his voice to a sexy, dangerous drawl and tipped his face to mine. “Not a single…fucking…thing.”
A shiver attacked my spine and jolted my stretched shoulder blades. He was so damn big standing before me in the shadows. Dressed in navy jeans and black sweater with his hair flopped messily forward, he looked menacing. Not the sort of man a woman would want to meet on a dark night.
He reached out and cupped my right breast, handling it not roughly but not quite gently either. He then watched his own movements carefully as he massaged and tweaked and tugged at my nipple.
Moisture grew in the deep well of my pussy. Hot and desperate need. I bowed towards him, wanting more than just my breasts to be fondled.
He stroked over my belly, dipping inquisitive fingers into the slit of my pussy. “Mmm, you’re hot and ready for it, whore, aren’t you?”
I pressed my lips in on themselves, remembering that I wasn’t to make a sound.
I suppressed a gasp as he applied just the right amount of pressure in a sweet little circle over my clit. I was so turned on, so desperate for his touch. Perhaps he was going to treat me to a quick orgasm to get the night started on a high note like I had for him?
Parting my legs further, I shifted my feet on the squidgy, twig-strewn ground. I squeezed my eyes shut and embraced being naked in the woods—tied up and at one with nature, at one with Jacob and all the devilish, depraved things I would let him do to me.
His breaths grew ragged on my cheek, and his body heat radiated onto my trembling skin as he continued to build me towards climax. I opened my eyes and looked into his face. Shadows sliced over his angular profile, the candles providing the only light now in our small, dark woodland hideaway.
He kept up his heavenly rotations—he knew just how I liked it. My heart thumped, my breaths were getting harder to keep quiet and controlled. I was ready to come. Come while I was strung up outside, naked, between two trees.
He removed his fingers.
I opened my mouth to protest. How could he? I was just about to climax.
He widened his eyes, as if daring me to speak.
Hastily, I shut my mouth again.
“Ah, poor little slut,” he said, cupping my chin with his damp fingertips. “Thought you were going to get some, didn’t you? Well, now you know what it’s like to be teased.”
Despite the cold, heat rose on my cheeks—angry, frustrated heat. I yanked at the well-knotted ropes and they tightened on my wrists. If I hadn’t been tied up I would have finished myself off. Two quick flicks was all it would take for a fast, sharp orgasm.
He stepped behind me and ran his flattened palm down the gutter of my spine. “So pretty,” he murmured. “So pretty and perfect and just waiting for it.”
As he slid his hand lower, I became aware that he was holding something else against my skin, something cool and plastic, pointed and moist.