Crossing the Lines (20 page)

“The bra first, please, Jay.”

Jay worked the clasp with expert precision, removing the fabric without touching her breasts. Maybe he wasn’t allowed, the way it seemed he wasn’t to speak. Her nipples hardened as the air hit them, their puckering excitement beyond her control, less a chill than her awareness of Henry outside the light, seeing how he affected her.

His controlled breathing, deep and steady, with a hint of vocalization on each exhale, woke her fantasies. Imagining he held himself in check by a thin margin, she wet her lips hoping the provocation might unleash him.

He spoke. “Jay.”

Fingers at her hips pulled her underwear down her body as she struggled to penetrate the darkness. Hands lifted her feet and swept away her sandals, her dress, and her underthings. A shiver ran through her. She was nude now, as nude as Jay—no, more so, because he proudly bore his ring in the color of Henry’s eyes, and she had nothing.

“Do you know, Alice, there is a lovely daylily variety called Painting the Roses Red whose beauty I sought to capture on canvas one summer in my family’s garden. Day after day I mixed my paints, and day after day I failed to encompass the exquisite shades, the tiny folds, the crinkled edges, the play of light and shadow. But you, my dear, you do so effortlessly every time you flush with desire.” Henry stepped into the light. “Perhaps I’ll manage to match it today on your skin, dearest.”

He exuded masculinity in a three-piece suit. Black pants, black vest, black double-breasted coat. Pristine white shirt. His tie and pocket square matched the deep green Jay wore around his cock.

He extended his arm until his knuckles brushed her cheek, and she whimpered with want. Not only for sex, but for belonging.

“I have something I want you to wear tonight, Alice, though you won’t be able to wear these to work, I’m afraid.”

He delved in a pocket on his suit coat, emerging with two bands of material connected by a short chain. Her inhalation roared in her ears.

Handcuffs.

Silver metal attachment points dangled from brown leather straps dark as a liver chestnut and loose-wrapped in deep green silk. Green like the cloth peeking out of Henry’s pocket. Green like Jay’s cock ring. She bounced on the balls of her feet, giddy with relief. These cuffs were hers. She belonged.

“Do you remember your safeword, Alice?”

“Yes, Henry.”
Yes, yes, I know it, please put those on me.

“Tell it to me now, please.”

“Pistachio.”
I won’t need it.

“Good girl.”

She struggled to restrain her impatience under his thoughtful gaze.

“Hold out your arms for—”

Thrusting her arms forward, she offered her hands side by side and loosely fisted.

“—me.”

Henry raised his hand until his palm brushed her fingers where they curled under her hands. He bent at the waist and bestowed two gentle kisses, one to the back of each hand. He revealed a slight smile as he straightened. “Your eagerness pleases me. Perhaps it’s been too long for us.”

Always. Two weeks of waiting and wanting, and such a short time when fulfilling her sexual desires became a joyful hobby for him. He’d taken a year to make the decision, to agree to invite her into his relationship with Jay. How hard had Jay pushed to make that happen? Gratitude flooded her, both for Jay’s interest and Henry’s willingness to play along.

Henry slipped the cuffs on her and tightened the straps. The silk slid over her skin. Two inches of chain separated her wrists. Henry lifted them over her head, extending her arms until the stretch hurt before lowering them a smidge. “Is this position comfortable, Alice? Be truthful, or our time together will end early tonight.”

Jesus. Was he trying to scare her? His voice held a sharp edge of command. A safety reason, muscle strain, probably, had to be the cause, but to threaten to end the night early… “It pulls a little on my shoulders, but it doesn’t hurt.”

He lowered her wrists another fraction of an inch. “Better?”

“Yes, Henry.”

“Good. Be still for me.”

She complied while he made adjustments above her. Metal spun, whirring like the screw locks on the carabiners Jay used when they climbed.

Henry backed away to the edge of the light. “Relax your shoulders, Alice.”

She lowered her shoulders as best she could and shivered at the secure grip of the cuffs around her wrists.

“Rotate your hands for me. Wiggle your fingers.”

She obeyed without question. His safety concerns were for her benefit, and she wouldn’t interfere no matter how desperate she grew to feel his touch. Having the length of his body grazing hers as he’d held her arms above her head hadn’t helped. Holding still had been difficult when she’d wanted to rub herself against him like a cat.

He circled her, always at the edge of the light, prowling. Jay stood somewhere in the darkness, his role in this game as shrouded as his body.

“You’re a very good girl, Alice.” Henry spoke in conversational, relaxed tones. He stepped in front of her, a foot away, and unbuttoned his jacket. “I want you to understand that now, before we begin. You haven’t displeased me in any way. Do you understand?”

He held his coat out behind him, and Jay stepped from the darkness to take it.

“Yes, Henry. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Henry unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and rolled his sleeves to the elbow.

“Correct.” He leaned in and kissed her, hard, one hand on her chin holding her in place as he nipped at her lips. “This is not a punishment but a pleasure.”

Her whole body trembled. He hadn’t even done anything yet. Anticipating Henry’s attention made for the best sort of torment.

He stepped around her, an invisible presence, though his breath ghosted across her ear as he grasped her hips. The brief press of his clothed body to her nude one made her gasp.

Hard and trapped in his dress pants, he strained against the fabric. Either what he intended to do or the expectation that she’d enjoy his game excited him.

He moved away.

She waited.

His hand fell, a sharp smack against the left side of her ass. She jumped at the sting. The sensation repeated on the right. Afterward, he massaged her buttocks, slipping between her legs and stroking her lips. He nudged her feet apart.

The placement and the pauses between varied, making predicting where and when his hand would fall impossible. But after every three or four strokes, he cradled her and rubbed his palm over her gently, crooning to her, tracing her labia.

The sting grew sharper as the burn spread. Her body became heat, throbbing heat, and his hand the center of it.

He slipped his fingers inside with ease, her own wetness a surprise to her. How aroused she’d become from the alternating harsh and gentle touch. She pushed toward his fingers, trying to force him deeper.

He removed them without a word, ignoring her whimpered plea, and rolled his slick fingers over her clitoris. Her bucking hips jerked the cuffs at her wrists and bathed her in fearful excitement. He cupped her sex from behind, fingers flexing and rubbing. His fingertips dropped away from her clit.

Slap.

She jumped away, in startlement rather than pain, but the cuffs wouldn’t let her go far.

He rested a hand on her hip, holding her in place.

“Pleasure, not punishment, Alice,” he whispered in her ear as he massaged her clit. “Let yourself feel it.”

He slapped her again, a darting sting, three times in succession, and then he massaged.

Trembling, she rose up on her toes, uncertain whether to get away or extend the sensation. An edge of fear coursed through her. But this new game was Henry, with his hand between her legs. Nothing wrong could come of that.

Though something right could.

She widened her stance, an inch at most. Enough, she hoped, to convey her acceptance to Henry, who recognized her responses better than she herself did.

The slaps came quick and solid against the fullness of her sex. The burning grew hotter, better, at the center of her desire. So close to a conflagration. She moaned as he massaged her, as his fingers sank into her and emerged coated with her need.

Dizzy panic took her as he moved away, but he didn’t go far. He stood before her, his hand returning to her sex. Looking past her, he called to Jay before his gaze returned to her face. He kept up a steady massage, easing the burn.

“I’m going to slap you, Alice. Harder this time. You’re a good girl, and I think you want to come for me. You do, don’t you, dearest? You’ve been very close to the edge of it. I’m going to slap you, and you’re going to come for me, and then I’m going to fuck you.”

He thrust his tongue in her mouth like a brand. When he pulled back, leaving her breathless and leaning toward him, he slapped her vulva with unexpected force.

She sucked in air and endured the sting as he did it again, and again, and again. Each slap created its own sensation that rolled through her, a ripple interrupted by the next slap and the next. The ripples struck a wall and turned, crashing back against their successors and churning her arousal in a frenzy. Obedience demanded her surrender.

His hand came down, and she shook in orgasm. Senseless to all but the emotion flooding her, she lost her footing. The silk-lined cuffs tugged at her wrists. Eyes squeezed shut, back bent in a painful arch, she shattered. Whimpers and cries and moans echoed in her ears, all hers as her body attempted to process pleasure and pain into something coherent, something understandable.

Coherence hung out of reach when her body floated, when her legs lifted of their own accord to settle around soft fabric, her thighs spread wide. Finally, a familiar sensation: Henry, hard and thrusting, inside her before the ripples quieted.

He was forceful, driving, and when physics didn’t deliver the expected equal-and-opposite reaction, the solution presented itself as easily as laying her head on a waiting shoulder. Jay stood behind her, bracing her for Henry to fuck. He laved her neck and followed up with hard, sucking kisses as Henry murmured encouragement.

The pressure on her left knee disappeared. Chasing the reason led to teasing distraction, Henry’s pants gaping open beside the shirttails hiding his cock from her on each withdrawal. He curved his arm under her leg, reaching. The brush of his fingers reignited the burning aftermath of her spanking as he grasped…
oh
.

Not all of that burning heat came from her. Jay, his hips bucking against the base of her spine, drove her onto Henry’s cock as Henry stroked him.

She’d have helped, but the restraints trapped her arms above her. With her legs flung around Henry’s hips and her body exhausted from the spanking and the orgasm and the rapid approach of another, she moved only as their bodies moved her between them.

Pressure and need built until Jay gave a hoarse shout in her ear as he came in Henry’s hand. The slam of his hips forced her hard onto Henry, hard enough for her swollen clit striking him to send her spiraling into climax. Taking Henry with her, maybe, but the blur of sound and motion and sensation overwhelmed her.

Separating the feel of hands on her skin from her skin itself seemed an impossible task. She didn’t try. She drifted.

She drifted as her arms sagged, no longer held above her head, and as she floated with dangling legs, and as the world tipped on its side and cool sheets greeted her back. Familiar sensations followed. The warmth of a washcloth between her legs. The touch of hands on her own, turning and stretching and wiggling her fingers. The sound of Henry’s voice as he inquired after her health and comfort.

“M’good. Snuggle?”

Jay’s quiet laughter heralded a reply. “I think you fucked her brains out. But she’s got the right idea, finally.”

Uh-huh. Naptime. Great idea.
Come snuggle, Jay.

She patted the bed beside her, or attempted to. Her tired arms weighed her down, and the signals from her brain lagged.
Fucked ’em right out. Thank you, Henry.

“Gently, my boy. Let’s not wake the analyst, hmm? Lie down, and we’ll snuggle with our sleeping beauty.”

M’not sleeping.
Speaking would’ve been too much effort. And the warm bodies cradling her now pulled her deeper under.