But he was losing patience, and from the shiver that ran up her spine at the command in his voice, she was just as impatient. She’d always found Jack’s sexual appetite to be both exciting and a little frightening, but she was only now coming to realize that her fear had nothing to do with him.
It was herself she was afraid of — the cravings he incited in her and her increasing desperation to have them assuaged.
“Where are you, Nina?” Jack asked from the other side of the door.
She unzipped the dress and pulled it reluctantly over her head. “Almost there.”
They were at a private boutique in Tribeca that was tucked away on the second floor of a nondescript building. Maude, the older woman who’d greeted them when they stepped off the elevator, seemed to know Jack and had greeted him with a deference that said she was equally familiar with his Platinum card.
A selection of clothing had been waiting on a rack near the dressing rooms. Obviously Jack had called ahead, asking Maude to prepare items in much the same way Julia did at Bergdorf for Karen and Nina. Except if Bergdorf was out of Nina’s league, this place — whatever it was called — was in another universe.
The dress she was struggling to zip was another Jason Wu, a silver silk blend from the feel of it sliding over her skin. The sleeves and neckline were demure on a top that hung like an expensive crop top over the tapered waist of the dress. Below the waist, perfectly constructed pleats resulted in a voluminous skirt that was shorter in the front than in the back. It was the perfect cocktail dress.
It was also almost three thousand dollars.
She opened the door to the fitting room and walked barefoot into the hall that ran in front of the two dressing rooms.
Jack remained in a plush chair situated in front of the rooms, his eyes appraising. A crystal glass sat on the table at his side, an inch of Scotch lingering in the bottom of the glass.
“Put on the shoes,” he ordered.
She bent to the pair of silver Louboutins that had been waiting along with the clothes. She had no idea if Jack intended for her to own them or if they were used just for the purpose of trying things on.
“Turn around.”
She followed his instructions, turning her back to him and trying to ignore the effect his cold voice had on her, the dampness that had blossomed between her legs.
She was still waiting when she felt his presence behind her. She didn’t move. They were back in the game where Jack made the rules and she obeyed them.
She tried to ignore the thrill of anticipation that ran through her body. Tried not to think about what it said about her that as much as she’d enjoyed the past few weeks — the things she’d learned about Jack, his willingness to let her in, to let her touch him in bed and out — she was more than ready for a return to the Jack she’d known last year, the one who’d withheld his affection and her orgasm until she was so desperate for both she would have crawled over broken glass to obtain them.
He lowered his head to her neck. She felt the brush of his nose against her skin, the exhale of his breath. She wasn’t aware of making the decision to tip her head to one side, her skin was simply seeking the touch of his mouth, as natural, as elemental, as an animal engaged in a mating ritual.
She closed her eyes as his fingertips brushed her leg under the hem of her dress. His touch sent sparks zipping from her thigh to her wet center, continued through her belly to her nipples, immediately hard.
She sighed as his hand worked its way to the inside of her thigh. She was vibrating, her pussy swelling with need as he slipped his fingers inside her underwear, his breath even and warm against the tender skin under her ear.
They were still outside the dressing room, Maude presumably somewhere in the boutique, quite possibly in full view of them.
“Jack… we shouldn’t — ”
She was stopped short by a sharp pinch on the inside of her thigh.
“I decide what we should and shouldn’t do,” he said in her ear. “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she gasped.
“Unless you’d like to use your safe word,” he murmured. “Stop, was it?”
“No,” she said quickly. “Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please keep going.” His fingers were so close to her sex she felt the pressure of them on her labia. At that moment, she would have done anything to force them higher.
The last thing she wanted was for him to stop. She was too desperate to be embarrassed by her need, by her willingness to expose herself for the pleasure of his touch.
“Are you wet, Nina?” He spoke softly in her ear.
“Yes.”
He lifted the skirt of her dress with his other hand, exposing her ass in the nude thong she’d chosen when he’d told her they were going shopping. His fingers slid inside her and she moaned quietly as his cock nestled into her bare ass.
“You are wet,” he said, stroking her clit with his thumb.
She pressed back into him, beyond caring whether Maude — or anyone else — could see them, intent only on the orgasm promised by his fingers.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Nina? Right here where anyone can see?”
“Yes.” She could barely get the word out, her breath fast and shallow as she came closer to orgasm.
“You’re a dirty girl,” he said, approval thick in his voice. “You’d let me fuck you right here, even if Maude was watching?” His fingers stilled. “Or would it be better if I stopped?”
“No… please,” she said.
She was in a world of darkness behind her closed eyelids, a world where nothing mattered but the continued penetration of Jack’s fingers, his rhythmic attention to her swollen clit, his shaft so close she could almost feel him slide into her.
He pushed harder against her ass, picking up the pace of his fingers. She moved her hips in time to his movements, her release so close she could feel herself standing at the precipice, her toes over the edge, rocking in the moment before she tipped into it.
“Are you going to come for me, Nina?”
“Yes!”
His hands immediately withdrew, the pressure of his cock disappearing from behind her as he fixed her underwear and lowered the skirt of her dress.
“I tell you when you can come, remember?” he asked.
She clenched her fists, her chest expanding with the release she hadn’t achieved, with pent up desire that threatened to overflow the confines of her skin.
“Do you remember?” he asked.
She opened her eyes, the fitting room swimming in front of her. “Yes.”
“Good,” he said. “Get dressed. I think it’s time to go home and continue our games.”
She braced herself on the threshold of the fitting room and forced herself to breathe, then stepped inside and shut the door. She leaned her head against the mirror, grateful for the cool expanse of glass on her fevered skin.
“We’ll take them all,” she heard Jack say outside the room. “You can have them delivered.” His voice was even, as if he hadn’t just brought her to the brink of orgasm, as if he hadn’t been hard enough to fuck her then and there.
She unzipped the dress with shaking fingers, his words rising in her ears.
It’s time to go home and continue our games.
13
“Take off your clothes.”
They were barely in the door when Jack issued the order. Nina couldn’t help wondering — hoping — it was because he was as eager to begin as she was.
She started for the bedroom.
“Here,” he said, without turning to look at her. “Now.”
She hesitated in the entry of the penthouse, then reached for the buttons on her dress, chartreuse silk with a handful of buttons leading to a wide waistband that continued to a loose but structured skirt.
She unfastened the buttons, slipped the dress off her shoulders, and let it fall to the floor.
Jack walked to the bar in the living room and poured b
ourbon into a glass. She was surprised when he crossed the room and held it out to her. “Drink."
She wondered idly why he was offering her alcohol before they made love, if it was because whatever he was going to do to her would require her to be drunk.
She finished the bourbon in one swallow, the liquor burning her throat on the way down. It didn’t matter why he’d offered it. She would have let him do anything to her, and she realized that was the allure of Jack’s particular brand of sexuality: the not knowing, the possibilities endless, the thrill of having no idea what would happen next.
And yes, the fear.
She handed him the empty glass.
“Take off the rest,” he said.
“Here?” Was he going to take her in the entry? Push her onto the cold marble floors?
The possibility made her core pulse with desire.
“Here.”
She took off her bra and slid out of her panties.
“Shoes too,” he said.
He didn’t always want her shoes off, but she knew instinctively this was not the time for questions. Jack’s predilections were known only to him, their mystery part of their allure.
She slipped off her shoes. The marble was cool against her bare feet.
He stepped aside. “Go to the bedroom.”
She walked past him, acutely aware of his nearness, his eyes on her naked back as she passed. She stopped near the bed. Then there was nothing to do but wait for Jack’s instructions.
He appeared in the doorway a few seconds later, pausing there to look at her. Gone was the man who had slowly opened up to her over the past weeks, the man who had revealed a privileged but cold childhood, who had refused to allow her pity.
In his place was the man she’d met last year, the one who had picked her up off the icy pavement, who had studied her with clinical remove, a scientist sizing up his latest sample.
Don’t look for a reason, Nina. This is just the way I am.
He’d somehow seen her even then. Had seen every part of her, even the dangerous, hidden parts she hadn’t discovered herself.
Stepping into the room, he crossed to the armoire. Her heartbeat quickened as he opened it and reached inside. She prepared herself for anything. She’d never looked inside the cabinet, had no idea what he kept there, what else he might have in store.
But when he turned to face her, he was holding the familiar scarlet rope.
“It’s been awhile,” he said. “We’ll start slow.”
She nodded.
He paced the room, working the rope in his hands, twisting the coiled length as he looked at her, his eyes scanning her body freely, dispassionately. He worked his way to her slowly, stopping a foot away and studying her body as if he were looking for the most effective way to use the rope in his hands.
She kept her eyes downcast by instinct, sensing this was a private ritual, one that wasn’t about her at all. It should have hurt her feelings, made her angry. Instead she was grateful for her lowered eyes, for her hair offering a curtain around the desire heating her face.
The longer he looked at her, the longer he circled her with the rope in his hands, the more she wanted it.
The more she wanted him.
When he finally reached out to brush her hair off her bare shoulders, her breath left her body in a long, shuddering sigh.
“Do you remember your safe word?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Good. Remember to use it if you want me to stop. It’s the only way I will. The only way I’ll be able to.”
It was the only admission he’d ever made to the strength of his own need. The confession sent a throb of pressure to her clit.
He stood behind her for a long moment before he lifted her hair to drape the rope around her neck.
This time she didn’t panic, remembering that last time the rope had left plenty of room around her neck. She followed his instructions as he worked his way around her body, telling her to lift her arms as he brought the rope around to her breasts, knotting it between them, framing them with it.
He worked the rope into knots down her stomach, one below her breasts, another at her naval, but where last time he’d stopped at her torso, this time he continued, winding the rope around her hips and ass.
She closed her eyes as he came closer to the mound between her legs, her pussy desperate for his fingers and mouth and cock, the memory of her near-orgasm at the boutique lingering in her core.
His lowered himself to his knees, the remaining rope dangling from the last knot, brushing against her skin as she tried to remain still. He buried his face between her thighs and she instinctively moved to open her legs to him.
“Did I tell you to open your legs, Nina?” he asked softly.
“No.”
Her legs shook with the effort of keeping them closed as he nuzzled the short hair covering her mound. His tongue flicked against her clit and she moaned, the urge to open her legs powerful.
His fingers slipped into her all at once, easily sliding through her slick heat.
“You’re still wet for me,” he murmured. “Good girl.”
She almost cried out when he removed his fingers. She was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling with desperation. The edges of the room were fuzzy when she opened her eyes. Nothing existed outside of Jack kneeling at her feet, the friction of the rope against her skin, the throbbing of her swollen channel, crying out for him to fill her.
Her eyes flew open as he began to wind the rope around her legs.
“Is there something you’d like to say?” he asked.
She didn’t even hesitate. “No.”
He nodded and began winding the rope around her thighs, knotting it down the front of her body as he went to hold it in place. When he finally stood she was bound from breasts to knees, the rope marching down her body in a series of loops and knots.
He looked down at her. “Are you scared?”
“No.” She was desperate. Voracious for him.
“Good.”
He walked away from her, taking off his jacket as he went, laying it across a chair near the dresser. He unbuttoned his shirt as he turned to face her, his chest revealed an inch at a time until he discarded the shirt. He unbuckled his belt, then unfastened his pants. When he removed them she saw that his cock was erect between his legs.
He came toward her again. His nakedness made her body cry out for him even more, its completion now closer, more possible.
He grabbed his cock and she felt a powerful surge of lust: she wanted to be holding it in her hand, to feel its smooth shaft in her palm, to guide it into her. But even though her arms were free, she knew her touch wouldn’t be welcome.
He hadn’t given her permission to touch him.
“Look at my cock, Nina.” She lowered her eyes. “Do you want it?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“I want your cock.”
“Good. It belongs to you now.”
He lifted her into his arms, the rope pulling taught against her skin, the friction almost burning as he carried her to bed and set her down at the bottom of the mattress.
“Get on your hands and knees.”
She took a few seconds to process the order. Was it even possible to get on her hands and knees with the rope tied as it was? But yes, when she used her arms to turn her body, she found that she could easily maneuver onto her hands and knees, though her thighs were still tied together.
She felt his hands on her hips as he maneuvered her closer to the edge of the bed, then felt a rush of cool air on her pussy as he pulled her ass toward him. Her legs were close together, but her pussy was exposed just enough to make her aware of him behind her, just enough to make her aware that he could still push into her.
He ran his thumb along her exposed folds from behind and she moaned.
“You’re ready to come, aren’t you?”
“Yes…”
“I thought so.” He positioned himself
behind her and she resisted the urge to push back against him. “You’ll find that restraint only heightens the moment of relief, of release.”
The head of his cock was balanced at her opening, barely separating her folds.
“Please…”
The word slipped out before she could stop it.
He slapped her lightly on the ass and she almost let loose the orgasm hovering at the edges of her body.
“Don’t speak unless I tell you to. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
He slid his cock through her folds to her ass then back again. “You know you own this cock, Nina. Now tell me who owns your hot pussy.”
“You do,” she gasped.
“That’s right. Don’t ever forget it, Nina.”
He plunged into her hard and fast, driving through her swollen flesh and immediately releasing an orgasm that went on and on.
14
Nina walked through the park with her head bent against the wind. They were well into March and winter was showing no signs of loosening its grip on the city. Still, she’d found herself coming to Washington Square more and more often, although the park wasn’t at all convenient to either the gallery or Jack’s apartment.
It was nearly eight p.m., the sky still clinging to vestiges of blue in the west, but the park was empty. She came to the bench and sat at one end, glad she’d pulled on her gloves when she’d exited the subway. The gloves, along with her coat and scarf, made the cold bearable, and she sat back on the bench and looked around.
She’d given up leaving notes for her mystery photographer. It was obviously an exercise in futility, the photographer either oblivious to Nina’s outreach or against making contact. She was disappointed, but it also lent an air of additional magic to the city: somewhere out there the woman was still taking pictures, leaving them like letters from a secret admirer.
She looked around. The city seemed to exist in another dimension. There, horns blared and people shouted and pushed their way through crowds in an effort to get where they were going. They walked with headphones in or their phones lifted to their faces as they held conversations with people who weren’t present instead of the ones standing near them on the subway platform or on the curb while they waited for the light to change.
The Surrender of Nina Fontaine (Awakening Book 2) Page 7