Disgrace (19 page)

“Sir, a little yes.” She shivers, a visual confirmation of her plight.

“Would you like me to warm you up a little?” My warm breath kisses her core and her hips tilt fruitlessly to try and edge closer to my mouth.

“Yes, please, Sir.” Her eager, exasperated plea makes me smile, and I swipe my very warm tongue along the length of her silken, soaking folds. Her legs wrench and try uselessly to clamp around my head, a futile attempt to prevent the onslaught of pleasure or maintain it. Either way, she growls out in frustration when I evidently, and too quickly, pull back.

“Something you want to say, Sam?” I coax.

“No, Sir,” she grits out and maintains may gaze. I stand and walk over to the candle that has been slowly burning into a nice pool of liquid wax. I pick it up and hold it high.

“Good. How are you doing, Sam? I’d like you to answer honestly without fear of consequence,” I explain.

“Oh, good, well, in that case,
Sir
, I am fucking off the charts horny and really, really want you and your massive cock fucking me until I can’t breathe.” She rushes her words, breathless and urgent.

“I meant with the restraints, but I think your answer has pretty much covered that.” She giggles, and her cheeks flush to an adorable pink.

“Oh, sorry, yes, they are fine. Everything is good…
really
good.” She smiles, and her mouth forms a silent ‘O’ when I let the first drop of wax fall from the jar. Her eyes are like saucers and her little chest is frantic with rapid pants. I continue to dribble the almost too hot liquid over her torso. Hitting her breasts, her nipples, around her belly button and the top of her landing strip. The crease where her thigh meets her apex is particularly sensitive, and she bucks wildly when I hit very close to her clit. Her whole body is a trembling erotic display of submission, her wetness is dripping onto the bed sheets, and I can’t wait to bury myself inside her.

Just one more thing
. I pick up the large blade from the table. Her eyes are half dreamy, half glazed but snap open with the glint of the knife. Her gaze flicks from my eyes to the right side of my stomach where the skin puckers with some poor stitching and an angry scar.

“War wound from a family altercation,” I clarify, but she doesn’t look remotely convinced. “Do you trust me, Sam?”

“Yes,” she answers immediately despite the reservation in her eyes.

“Then I suggest you hold very, very still.” I lie on the bed next to her and spend the next twenty minutes carving the dried wax from her skin. The blade is smooth against her skin. The wax comes away in satisfying ribbons, curling away from her body like butter on a warm knife. Only a sudden movement would cause any blood to flow, and Sam is perfectly still. I can feel her heart beat a strong staccato under my fingertips as I follow the blade with my hand and sweep the wax from her skin. I have traced, touched, and teased every inch of her skin. She is alive and trembling, and I can’t wait a second longer.

I stand, slide my lounge pants to the floor and crawl between her spread and tethered legs. I swipe my cock from her entrance to her clit, up and down several times. Her eyes fix on mine, pleading and fierce with lust. I sink inside in one thrust, and she cries out. Her muscles contract like crazy and take me completely by surprise. Her thighs flex and clench, her back curves in a perfect arch, and her hands grip the ties like they are her lifeline. She comes hard around my cock. It takes all my resolve not to follow her release, but this one was for her. I pump gently inside, easing her down. Her gasps for breath turn to whimpers and sighs, her body limp and sated.

My hips continue to move, my thrusts becoming more urgent. I love the way she feels around me. I love it when I’m really deep. I shift up the bed and rest my hands on either side of her shoulders. Her body undulates beneath mine, grinding with me, meeting each thrust with irresistible fervour. I stop before it’s too late and pull out. I fist my cock and continue to pump hard. Both our eyes train on the thick ribbon of come that shoots from me onto her tummy, the force splashing the edge of her breasts. I pitch onto one arm, and with my free hand, I smear my essence all over her skin. And that one, was for me.

“Are you sure you can eat all that?” She smiles shyly as she folds her menu and hands it to the waiter.

“I worked up quite an appetite.” Her sensual tone is low and sexy, leaving very little to misinterpretation. My cock twitches, and I wince when it rubs a little too close to my zip. The waiter loses all his composure and fails to clasp his hand around the proffered menus, letting them spill across the floor. Sam snickers when he scrambles to the ground to pick them up. He apologises and swiftly departs. She wriggles her brows, full of mischievousness.

“You get that reaction a lot, I assume.” I adjust myself and sit back, my finger lazily tracing the rim of my water glass. Her eyes flick to my adjustment then to the waiter making a hasty retreat.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She flutters her lethally long lashes.

“Hmm.” I pour some of the champagne, happy to watch her shine. She is still wearing my diamond necklace and the tiny rocks pale in contrast to her luminescent skin. She is stunning and that necklace looks fucking perfect just where it is. She notices my eyes settle at her neck and her fingers reach to touch. Her tender smile hits me hard and warms my soul.

“Will you wear it?” I ask, and for a moment, her smile widens so much I think she might be about to agree.

“You know I can’t.” She shakes her head lightly.

“I’d like you to wear my collar, Sam.” I lean forward, rest my elbows on the table and fix her with my most serious gaze. She mirrors my image in every way, a challenge.

“And I’d like to tie you up and torture you, but from what I do know about you, that is
never
going to happen,
Sir.”
Her voice drops to a whisper with the last word.

The waiter arrives with the drinks, and a second follows with the first of our many dishes. She sits back and takes a big sniff of the delicious Asian fragrances drifting up in billows of scented steam from the little baskets placed before us. She has eagerly opened each one and rearranged the baskets in what looks like order of preference. I chuckle when she wastes no time with her chopsticks. I feel bad that we haven’t eaten today, but then, she is very distracting.

We pretty much inhale the Dim Sum starter and comfortably wait for the next course. When I remember one of the many things I want to discuss.

My brows must furrow, because before I say a single word, Sam speaks.

“Uh oh, this looks serious. Let me guess, I should be eating my meal off the floor,” she quips, but her eyes flash with something quite dark. I get an unpleasant twist in my gut at the notion.

“Um no. Humiliation isn’t my kink.” I sip my drink. All the same, my mouth is dry. I have no idea how she is going to take this. “Sam, I have asked you to stop seeing certain clients, and I need to know you will be all right for money…I mean, I would like to make sure you don’t need money.”

“Are you offering to pay me, Jason, because wouldn’t that just make
you
a client?” Her voice is flat but she’s bitten her lips flat, and I don’t know if she’s holding back hurt, rage or laughter.

“Fuck, no!” I snap, but lean in, adjusting my speech to a more tempered volume. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

“Relax, Jason. I was teasing.” She fails to suppress her smile this time. I scowl because it seems not telling the truth causes her to run out but insinuating I am going to pay her for sex is a laughing matter. This is fucked up. “Sorry…sorry, my bad. Not something to joke about. I get that.” She purses her lips in mock seriousness. “It is very thoughtful of you but, really, I am fine for money.”

“Really?” Not that I doubt her ability to charge a premium price, but she lives in one of the most expensive parts of London. She left home at eighteen, and I struggle to see how she manages to maintain the lifestyle she does.

“Leon’s rent covers my living costs—”

“Leon lives with you?” I interrupt.

“Yes. My best friend shares my flat,” she clarifies with a touch of attitude in her tone. “As I was saying, his rent covers most my expenses. I have no mortgage, and if I get to keep my other clients, I can still make my other investment commitments. It’s all good.” She cups my cheek, but I’m still reeling from her sharing a flat with Leon. He is a player at the club, very attractive, and until two days ago, I thought he was her boyfriend.

“Leon?” I repeat.

“Leon saved me. I owe him everything. I trust him with my life…just in case I am not being understood.” She arches her perfect brow but then hums out her musing. “Hmm although, he does have an annoying habit of thinking he knows what’s right for me.”

“You regret him talking to me?” My voice is soft. I can’t help the stabbing pain just below my collarbone, maybe a little lower.

“Oh, no, not at all.” She pushes herself out of her chair and slides onto my lap. With the fixed table and wall seat there is no room, but we manage to meld together. Her slim arms wrap around my neck, and my arms slip around her waist. “Like I said, he saved me, and not for the first time.” Her lips cover mine for long, sensual minutes; only an embarrassed cough interrupts our intimate embrace. The waiters layer several dishes on the table, with a glossy colourful feast on each individual plate.

“Oh, yum!” She slides back off my lap and settles in her seat for round two.

“So how did you two meet?” I take the bowl of sticky rice she offers me and start to load my plate.

“In a bar…a sleazy bar. I had left home, checked into a hotel, and went to the first bar I could find. Not my proudest moment. He spotted me and saved me from making the biggest mistake of my life. I had no idea what I was doing, or what I was going to do with my life. He sorted me out, helped me find my way.”

“Excuse me if I don’t champion him as a true friend, because he sounds more like your pimp,” I scoff. Her shoulders lift in a dismissive shrug.

“Anti-pimp more like. No, no, you don’t understand. I know how lucky I am to have him in my life. I know exactly where I would be if he hadn’t dragged me out of that bar.”

I raise my hands up in surrender. I know a futile conversation when I hear one. Despite his initial help, he is high on my ‘jury’s out’ list.

“All I had when I left home was the damn necklace my mother had used all my life as a type of dowry to try and get some rich titled guy to marry me.” She lets out a resigned breath, but I can see the pain still evident in her eyes. She shakes herself and stabs at some crispy chilli beef, scooping it into her mouth. She chews slowly, collecting herself. “Leon took me to Sotheby’s to get it valued. It had once belonged to Queen Mary. I couldn’t believe it was genuine. I was expecting them to laugh me out of their offices and tell me it was from
Accessorize
or some chain store. They took a week or so to establish provenance but gave me a valuation at the time of around a million pounds. When it went to auction, it sold for over double that.” She shrugs nonchalantly. My chopsticks are hovering about an inch from my mouth. I drop the sticks. “It was my grandfather’s. Part of me wished I could’ve kept it. It was the only thing I had, other than a few clothes, when I left home but he wanted me to have it, and I needed to sell it to live.”

“Two million?” I repeat.

“About that…so really, you don’t need to worry. I bought the house I live in and converted the four other floors into flats. I still have to work; the money is all tied up in property, and this is not a cheap city to live in, but I can cut back on clients without it hurting. Without it hurting me, I mean. The clients wanting pain pay more.” I open my mouth as she has her own chopsticks at my lips with something; I have no idea what, but I chew and swallow. She is just full of surprises.

“And who’s Grace?” I take a sip of my water.

“Grace?” Her back straightens, and she looks confused.

“Your nightmare, you called out Grace. Was Grace the name you gave your baby?” I ask softly but she shakes her head.

“No…no, I’m Grace…that was my name but I legally changed it.” She draws in a deep breath and flashes a smile clearing any sadness with her own radiance. “I think I’ve done my bit…How about you?” She sips her champagne, there is still a mountain of food, but she doesn’t look nearly finished. I like that. I hate it when women don’t eat; it’s like air and sex…natural.

I run my hand through my hair. “Not much to tell. Normal family, met Daniel at Oxford, but he dropped out, and I stayed. I helped him regroup when his company was in trouble. He had the financial backing from Jack Wilson but needed someone he could trust as his right hand.” I pause, and the silence swells between us like an ominous tide.

“You’re right; that was not much to tell.” She sits back and eyes me carefully. I hold her gaze because she knows there’s more.

There is always more. The choice is mine. I teeter. If I am open, we will have a chance to continue down this path. However precarious and fragile our relationship may be, we will at least have a chance. If I bluff and hide, this ends right now. I can feel it.