Authors: Rosalind James
“I’m nervous,” she admitted. She was, he could see. Those
big eyes looked up at him pleadingly. He kissed her again, gently this time.
“You should be nervous. You shouldn’t be scared, but you
should definitely be nervous. Because you wanted something special, and now you’re
going to get it.”
He led her into the house by the hand, flipping lights on.
Took her upstairs to his bedroom, changed his mind and took her into another room
instead. One that had the bed he needed. He tossed cushions onto the floor,
pulled the duvet back.
“Go wash up, if you like,” he told her. “Do whatever you
need to do to get comfortable. Then come back and lie down here.”
“Where are you going?” she asked anxiously.
“Need to get a few things. Then I’ll come back. And when I
do, I want you here. Lying down. Don’t take anything off,” he thought to add.
“I’m going to do that.”
“OK,” she said. Still nervous, he saw. Good.
She was lying on the bed when he eased back into the room
again a few minutes later, arms full. She’d taken her shoes off before
arranging herself, but had followed his instructions and left the rest of her
clothes intact. The excitement was a physical thing now, overwhelming her body,
the thrum and pulse in every secret part of her keeping pace with her rapid
heartbeat. But the nervousness had increased along with it, and she found that
she was hugging herself, arms folded across her chest, legs crossed.
She shivered with anticipation as he set his burdens on the
nightstand, then sat down on the bed next to her, leaned down for a kiss. “Good
work getting on the bed for me. Now we’ll just do the next thing.”
“What’s the next thing?” she asked breathlessly.
He lay down beside her, moved over her as he continued to
kiss her, took one of her hands in his. She jerked in surprise as he looped the
necktie around it, then fastened it to the post on the headboard with a quick
knot.
“I never liked these anyway,” he said conversationally,
taking hold of the other hand and fastening it in its turn. ”So tug all you
want. I won’t care.”
“Nic,”
she pleaded. She struggled against the
restraints, but he’d tied her too securely. Her wrists were held tight, her
arms stretched overhead, and she was throbbing with arousal now.
“Remember your word?” he asked. “Aubergine. D’you want to
say it?”
“Oh. Oh, no.” Her breath was coming in shallow gasps. “No. I
don’t want to say it.”
His smile started slowly, then grew as he looked down at her.
“Good. That’s good. You’re doing so well. And now I’m going to get you naked,
so I can play with you.”
He drew it out, though, spent torturous minutes unbuttoning
her sweater, one tiny square button at a time. Running his hands over her skin
at every stop, before he finally, so slowly, unfastened the front clasp of the
lacy bra. Used his hands and mouth on her as she felt the little skirt riding
up her thighs, pulled desperately against the fabric binding her to the bed, writhed
at his touch.
“Touch me,” she got out.
“Please.”
“Where?” he asked, his hands playing at her breasts as his
teeth grazed her neck, fastened on her earlobe. “Where d’you want me to touch
you?”
She moved her legs as far apart as the skirt would allow. “You
know. Please. I need it.”
“Not yet. You’re not in charge now, remember? I am. And I
say it’s not time yet.”
At last, when she was whimpering under him, he untied one
knot, helped her pull her arm through her sleeve and bra strap, quickly
refastened it. Then did the same on the other side until she was tied again,
naked to the waist.
“Oh, yeh,” he said with satisfaction. “That’s brilliant. That’s
gorgeous. That’s how I want you.” He reached around the back of her skirt for
the zip, pulled it down. Then eased the silky material down over her hips, over
her legs, until she was, finally, naked beneath him.
He stood back, still fully dressed. She looked up at him, felt
her arms being stretched taut. Saw the hunger on his face, and was nearly
undone.
“I thought about tying your legs down too,” he told her, reaching
down to run a slow hand over her body, making her shiver, her body straining
towards his caressing hand. Down her arm, over her breast, her belly, her
thigh. And still, maddeningly, not where she needed him most. “Like my very
best fantasy. Having you all the way tied up for me, helpless. That’d be too
much, I know. So I’m just going to have you spread your legs, make you hold
still for me.”
“No. It’s not too much. You can do that. You can tie me down,”
she got out through another surge of excitement. Her torso rose from the bed
as she shuddered, her legs moving apart as if of their own volition.
“You won’t be able to move, once I do that,” he warned. She
couldn’t answer. Could only whimper and shift, her back arching, trying to get
closer to him. She needed him so badly now, she was burning with it. Aching for
it.
He didn’t ask again, just grabbed at something beyond her
vision. Then he was fastening the tie around her ankle with a quick jerk, pulling
it toward the post at the foot of the bed. Stretching her out, tying her down.
Moving around to do the same thing on the other side, then standing over her
again, looking down at her where she lay, open to him.
He’d lost every bit of his own composure, she saw. He was
breathing hard, almost as hard as she was herself. She twisted against her
bonds, heard him swear under his breath. Then he was unbuttoning his shirt,
pulling off the rest of his clothes. Moving to the head of the bed, reaching
for a condom amongst the supplies he’d brought, unwrapping it.
“We’re going to play more later,” he promised as he came
down over her, eased inside her. “I’m going to do everything to you tonight.
But right now, I’m going to fuck you.”
“Nic,” she moaned. “
Nic.”
He started slowly, pausing
before each stroke as she strained towards him, teasing her until she was
making urgent, incoherent sounds, trying and failing to pull him into her, to
hurry him. At last, when she was panting with frustrated arousal, he gradually
began to increase the tempo.
Faster and harder, over and over. Being held like this,
unable to move, was forcing every bit of her awareness onto the slide of him inside
her, the friction of his body rubbing over her where she was most sensitive. Each
stroke was pushing her higher, until it was past bearing. He was resting his
weight on his hands, driving hard now, and she was beginning to keen. It was too
much, too strong. She couldn’t take any more. “
Nic.
Please. Untie me. I
can’t . . . I can’t . . .”
“Not going to untie you,” he got out, his voice ragged with
effort. “I want you to know I’ve got you. That you can’t move. That you’re mine,
to do anything I want with. Because you are, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Yes,” she said on a sobbing breath.
“Say it, then,” he ordered roughly.
“I’m yours,” she got out, barely aware of what she was
saying. “I’m yours.”
“Too right. You belong to me. You’re mine, and I’ll do anything
I want to you.”
His words pushed her over the edge. She began to spasm
around him, her wail sounding loud in her own ears, tears coming to her eyes as
her pleasure grew, nearly painful in its intensity. He was grabbing a bound
wrist in each hand now, holding her down even more tightly as wave after wave
of delicious convulsions overpowered her. And then he was shouting, slamming
into her, his excitement fueling her own, and she was crying out with him,
utterly and completely lost.
She was still jerking and shaking when he rolled off her,
moved to untie her wrists and ankles, pulled her arms down. He grabbed tissues
to clean both of them up, handed her a few for her face. She wiped her eyes, took
a deep, shuddering breath.
“You OK?” he asked, running a hand down her body.
She felt herself trembling, her body quivering under his
touch. She nodded, then pulled him to her. He wrapped his arms around her in
response, held her close. “That scared me,” she said against his chest. “Feeling
that much.”
He kissed her gently. “Scared me too, a bit,” he admitted. “Never
been that out of control. Are you hurt? Inside? Did I bruise you?”
“No. No. I’m just . . . limp.”
“I brought some other things,” he told her, pulling the
sheet and duvet over them both. “But I’m too shattered just now, and you are
too. So I think we’ll sleep for a while. Then we’ll have some wine, and we’ll
try the next bit.”
By the time he woke the next morning, his internal alarm going
off as always at seven, Nic felt as if he’d been through a cyclone, and back
again. He’d managed to get through a few more of the fantasies he’d had about
her, and they’d all lived up to their advance billing. He’d explored every
centimeter of her with his hands and mouth, and a few other things too. Had turned
her over, tied her up again that way, and kept her there for a good long while.
Had lost count of the number of times she’d come, and had gone through two more
condoms himself. But it was her response that had devastated him. She’d called
his name again and again, cried out in pained ecstasy, and begged him for more,
just as he’d told her she would. Her openness, her vulnerability, her utter
surrender to her own pleasure had pushed him to a place he’d never been. She’d
given him everything, and he’d given her what she’d asked for. Something
special. A night they would both remember for a long, long time. And she’d
never once said “aubergine.”
Emma winced as she sat up in bed, muscles and tissues
protesting against the treatment they’d received. There wasn’t a clock in here,
but the sun was coming through the open plantation shutters. She listened, but
couldn’t hear Nic. She got up with a groan, went into the ensuite bathroom. A
hot shower eased some of the aches, but she wished she had her toothbrush. Too
much of the chilled white wine, in the night. And the ice in the bucket he’d
brought, dripped onto her. Then his warm mouth, heating her again. She flushed
at the memories. She’d asked for something special. He had delivered beyond anything
she could have imagined. Under his inventive guidance, she’d been able to abandon
herself completely to the joy of rediscovering her body, and all the pleasure
it could feel.
“Morning.” Nic came into the bedroom to find her wrapped in
a towel, picking up her discarded clothes. “Cup of tea?”
She turned to look at him, suddenly shy. Could feel the
blush creeping up her neck as she remembered all the things they’d done. Then
realized what he’d said. “Cup of
tea?”
she asked in disbelief.
“Yeh,” he said in surprise. “Why not?”
She started to laugh. “It just seems a little . . .
incongruous. After what we just did.”
He grinned in response. “I’m good, but even I need to take a
break sometimes, have a cuppa. Labor laws, you know. Mandatory smoko.”
“Then yes. I’d love a cup of tea. But my toothbrush is in my
purse, in your car. At least I think I left it there. Could you look? That
would make me feel a lot more human.”
“I’ll look,” he promised. Came back in a few minutes with
two mugs of tea. Set them down on the bedside table, then pulled her little
travel toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste from the pocket of his jeans. “And
voila.”
“Great,” she said with gratitude, taking them from him and
disappearing into the bathroom. When she came out, he was sitting propped
against the pillows, the picture of casual innocence, sipping his tea. He patted
the spot next to him.
“I should get dressed,” she said.
He reached for the dressing gown he’d brought, tossed it to
her. “Put that on, get cozy here with me for a minute. Oh, and here.” He lifted
himself to reach into his jeans pocket, pulled out the scrap of silvery lace.
“You may want these again now. Though if you decide to leave them off, I won’t
complain. Because I’m going to take you out for brekkie before we collect Zack.
You could probably do with a large coffee, this morning. I know I could.”
“Don’t you feel a little . . . embarrassed?” she asked,
snuggling next to him, wrapped in his oversized dressing gown, and picking up
her mug.
“Nah,” he said decisively. “I feel happy. And worked out.
How about you?”
She laughed. “Worked out. Yeah, I guess that would describe
it. Worked out. Worked over. Shagged up, down, and sideways. The way someone
once promised me he could do.”
“I did, didn’t I? Took a while to make good on that. But I
reckon I’ve done it now.”
“You have. So I guess you’re entitled to look that smug. I
don’t think I’m going to be forgetting this night in a hurry.”
“No . . . cobwebs?” he asked, serious now. “You good?”
“You blew them away. As long as I stick with you, looks like
I’m golden.”
“As long as you stick with me, reckon we both are.” He
leaned over to kiss her cheek, sat up again with a grin. “And by the way. Anytime
you want something special, just give me the word. Because I enjoyed that. And
I’d be happy to do it again.”
“Now that we’ve had one adventure,” Nic said on the
drive back to Devonport, “it’s time for the other one, don’t you think?”
“Which one?” Emma asked. She was feeling relaxed and a bit
sleepy again, despite the bowl-sized latte she’d consumed with breakfast. Must
be all those good sex endorphins, she supposed. Or just too much sex, and too
little sleep.
“Telling Zack I’m his dad.”
That
got her attention. “Oh. Wow.”
“It’s time, don’t you think?” Nic asked again. “Step back a
sec and look at it. I’d like him to come stay with me, on the weekends I’m
here. And that’s not many, you know. Just the next few weeks, and then I’m off
to Aussie and on to Argentina, if the ankle’s fit again. Back for a few more
weeks, bar some days in Wellington and Dunedin, and it’s off again to England
for the World Cup. Assuming I’m fit, and in form, and selected, touch wood.
That’ll be a lot of time away, and not much here, all the way till the end of
October. So I’d say we should do it now, wouldn’t you? Give him some time with
me to get used to the idea?”