Leather Bound (22 page)

Her fingers slid over Lily’s dark grey stockings with a shushing sound, toying with her. Lily moaned softly, a sound I’d never heard her make before, a quiet sound of pleasure.

As I watched, the woman pulled her hand away, cupped it, then brought it down hard on the fleshy curve of Lily’s ass. Lil’s response was quick and loud: a cry rose from her lips, a mingling of pleasure and pain that I knew all too well as of late. In a single swift move, the woman tugged Lily’s stockings down over her ass, baring the pink skin to the world. She brought the curve of her palm down again and again, hitting the line of Lily’s ass where the fabric ended, where her flesh was bare and turning a darker shade of scarlet with every spank.

I shouldn’t have stayed, shouldn’t have kept watching, but it was too hot not to look. Even without touching my clit, I could feel it blooming between my legs, practically begging for attention. I ached to finger myself, to rub myself against something hard and firm. But I stood still and held my breath, unwilling to spoil the moment by so much as moving.

The woman was saying something to her between hits, but I couldn’t make it out. As she spoke, her free hand returned to the spot between Lily’s thighs, curling her fingers in, giving her something to squirm against. Lily did so, whining low as she wiggled against the clutch of her fingers.

‘Please,’ Lily murmured.

‘Please, what?’ the woman said.

‘You know what,’ she said. ‘Please don’t make me say it. Don’t make me ask.’

‘I want to hear you,’ she said. ‘I want to hear you ask.’

‘Please fuck me,’ Lily said.

‘Spread your arms.’

Lily spread her arms across my desk, across the wide oak expanse, her breasts mashing into the wood. She looked like a beautiful bird about to take flight.

Until the woman behind her drew her hand back in a long, lazy arc and brought it down in a flash on Lily’s ass. Lily cried out, loud, every part of her that could come off the desk doing just that, taking off.

I gripped the edge of the door, arousal making my breath tight.

‘Please take me,’ Lily said.

Not missing a beat, the woman ceased the spankings, dug her hand into the back of Lily’s red hair and pulled the wrapped curls out of their updo with a single tug, so they cascaded down her back. Using Lily’s hair as leverage, she pulled her head up, forcing her to turn her neck and look over her shoulder at the woman.

I could see Lily’s face clearly now. Her red lipstick was smeared, the usual perfect black lines around her eyes smudged and streaked. And yet her eyes were dancing, alive with a smouldering desire that should have burned her.

The woman clearly caught the look too, because she leaned down and kissed her, nipping at Lily’s lips with such ferocity that I expected blood. She tangled back, their mouths meeting, so hard I thought I heard the clash of teeth. There was their captured breath between them, the woman’s low groans, and then Lily’s voice, still begging incessantly to be fucked.

I was panting hard, just watching the two of them, my own pulse creating an echoing drum in my throat. It was sexy as hell. Part of my brain was telling me to go, to give them their privacy. The other part was telling me to hike up my wool dress and stick my hand between my thighs.

As I stood there, a war of lust raging inside me, the two stood, kissing fiercely, breast to breast, their hands between each other’s thighs. Lily’s nipples peaked hard as they rubbed against the fabric of the woman’s outfit. The woman lifted Lily’s ass all the way up on my desk, forced herself between her stocking-clad thighs. With one hand, she opened Lily, stroking into her until Lily was again begging, pleading, crying out.

Unzipping her fly, the woman pulled out a beautiful latex cock, long and firm. She pumped it slowly, leisurely with her fist, the movement so tantalising my pussy began to ache with emptiness.

‘Is this what you want?’ she asked.

Lily nodded, nearly frantic, her hands reaching for the dildo, her legs opening wider as she sought to angle herself closer to the woman.

‘Greedy little slut,’ the woman said. My clit pulsed as if she’d said those very words to me.

The woman slid both hands under Lily’s ass and nearly lifted her off the desk. She settled Lily at the very head of her cock.

‘You want?’ she asked.

‘I want,’ Lily said, more growl than speech.

She entered Lily in a smooth slow stroke that made all three of us groan. I clamped a hand over my mouth, forcing myself quiet. Jesus fuck, this was so hot I felt lightheaded. I thought of my shoes, imagined their bottoms painted with stop words –
stay, don’t move, stand still
– so that I wouldn’t go in there and beg them to let me join in.

They moved together, thrusting hard, bodies in unison. So much so that my desk rocked beneath the movement, the short leg banging down hard on its supporting book as they fucked.

Lily’s movements became greedy, restless, shifting herself hard onto the woman’s cock and finally reaching a hand between her own legs, fingering her clit as she murmured
pleasepleaseplease
, nonsense syllables that got louder and louder until she came with a fast hard clench that shook her for a moment and then sent her into peals of loud laughter.

‘I love it when you come for me,’ the woman said. ‘I love the way you laugh.’

Lily laughed again

She moved her body forward, reverse thrusting with the cock inside her.

‘My turn,’ Lily said.

Lily worked to angle her movements until she got the response she wanted – a bit-lip cry from the woman.

‘That’s the spot,’ Lily said. She moved again and again, a hip-rolling stroke that brought visible shudders to her partner. ‘Touch yourself, come for me,’ she chanted.

The woman reached down with a shaky hand and tucked it into her waistband. She gasped, and I echoed her. I knew that sensation, when you’re so wet and wanting that the faintest touch nearly sends you over the edge. She came a second later, nearly silent, her eyelids fluttering with pleasure.

‘Fuck,’ Lily breathed. ‘I adore you.’

This time the kiss between them was soft and sweet, a gentle touch of lips and then noses and then foreheads as they rested together. I could hear them breathing in unison, catching up with their bodies.

I bit my lip, my head spinning. I hadn’t come, but I ached with the need to do so.

There was something else too. I tried to tell myself it was lust, wanting, desire. But Lily’s face had been so beautiful when she’d come, and when the woman had leaned down and kissed her, there was something more there. Not just lust, but something deeper. It made my heart glad to see Lily here, clearly falling in love with someone who adored her equally. It also made me a little heartsick, after Kyle. I’d told myself that wasn’t something I wanted, and here I was, aching for it almost as much as I was aching for the sex I’d just witnessed.

Quickly and quietly, I stepped back through the stacks until my hand found the front door. I slipped outside, panting slightly. By the end, I’d been holding my breath without even realising it.

I wasn’t going to get a tattoo from Lily either, it looked like. Which pretty much left me entirely to my own devices. If I had any devices left after watching that display of lust.

Outside the door where I’d been turned away last time, I dug a black pen out of my bag and drew the worst-ever keyhole on the palm of my hand. There was no way in hell this was going to work. But I had to try.

This time the door opened partway when I knocked. I was so taken aback that I stood there for a moment with my mouth open.

‘Yes?’ It was Smaug. Oh, dear gods. Why did this always happen to me?

He squinted at me. ‘I know you,’ he said.

I nodded. I clearly couldn’t disagree with him.

‘This isn’t a public event,’ he said.

‘I know,’ I said. ‘I just need to get in to find a friend. To help a friend.’

‘I know you’re lying,’ he said.

I sighed. Everyone always knew.

‘Please,’ I said. I knew I wasn’t supposed to talk, but I couldn’t help myself. I blather when I’m nervous. ‘I’m trying find this book and I promised Davian and –’

‘Davian?’ he said. ‘Oh. You’re the one.’

Suddenly the door opened all the way. ‘Not a word of this,’ he said. ‘Between you and me, I like Davian.’

At first I didn’t move. I had no idea what was happening.

‘In,’ he urged, tugging me forward.

He shut the door and everything went black.

‘Straight down the hallway,’ he said. I got the impression he was pointing, just from the sound of his movement, but I couldn’t see a damn thing. Why was I always getting myself into this stuff anyway? I was pretty sure that if I was willing to sit still long enough for some kind of therapy, a shrink would tell me it was because I was easily bored. Or craved a challenge. Or had some kind of sexual issue.

Which was probably why I’d never sprung for a therapist.

I put my hand out, feeling for a wall. I had to lean a little to find it. If anyone could see me, they’d be watching the back of a very confused, wobbly woman trying to make her way down a very dark hall as though she were blind.

I expected to come out of the dark hallway into the light of a larger room. But the hallway, and the dark, just seemed to go on. I got the impression, oddly, that I was travelling not downwards, to a cellar, as I might have expected, but upwards, towards an upper floor of a building.

The wall abruptly ended, and my hand stretched into black air.

Someone took it. I bit back a quiet yelp of surprise. The hand in mine was soft and supple as fine leather. It took me a moment to realise it
was
leather. A glove, calfskin by the feel of it.

I wanted to bend down and rub the fabric against my cheek. Even in the dark, I controlled myself. Or rather, the fear that was at war with the lust within me kept me from doing anything stupid.

Stupider. I was already standing in the dark I-didn’t-know-where holding hands with some gloved stranger. How much stupider could I possibly be in a single evening?

Not stupid. Daring. Doing my job.

Right. Keep telling yourself that. I couldn’t even conjure up Nancy Drew any more. That was how far gone I was.

Silently, the hand began to guide me forwards. I resisted, holding my free hand out, trying to touch the air, trying to make sure I didn’t run into anything. There was a sense of murmuring, of people around me, but mostly it was very quiet, and pitch-black. I couldn’t get a sense at all of the number of people in the space or how big the space was. I also couldn’t tell how much of what I was hearing and sensing was real and how much was some kind of audio recording. It was like trying to tell if faraway music was coming from a great sound system or being played live.

After a while I came to trust the hand that was guiding me. Even if I couldn’t see, they either could, which seemed impossible, or they knew the room and the space well enough that they were taking care with me. I didn’t walk into anything. The noises around me ebbed and flowed. Sometimes we passed places where I actually heard snatches of conversation. Other times, it got quiet.

It felt like we walked for ever, but in truth I think we were just walking slowly, taking our time. In the dark, it seemed twice as long in both time and space as it actually was. Maybe he or she or whatever was holding my hand was just making sure that I was safe each moment.

The hand holding mine tightened just slightly and then we both stopped.

‘Your chair, madame,’ a voice said. So it was a man after all. From his voice I had a sudden vision of a tall, thin blond man dressed in a tux and black gloves. I wished I could glimpse him, just to see how far off my perception was. My experience has been that, from their voices alone, people never look like you think they will.

He took both of my hands, this time from a slightly different angle, and set them on something. After a little exploration I realised this was the back of a chair. I hesitated a moment. Sitting down meant I was going to stay, no matter what.

But I’d come this far.

Not to mention: I really didn’t know how to get out. I had a general impression that if I just turned fully around and walked in a straight line, I’d find that door. But I didn’t think that general impression was at all correct – we’d taken at least a few turns between here and the door, and we’d moved so slowly that I sometimes couldn’t tell if we were turning or walking in a straight line.

So I did the only thing that seemed reasonable. I whispered ‘Thank you’ to a man that I couldn’t see, pulled out the chair in front of me and sat down in the pitch black.

I was at a table, covered in cloth. There were at least a few people at the table with me. I could hear shuffling and the occasional ting of plates and cups. From time to time someone whispered something.

Putting my hands on the table, I felt a plate, another plate, a cup, silverware, a napkin folded into a shape that I couldn’t work out. It was a dinner table. A formal dinner table, if the fork above the plate was any indication. I wondered if I’d stolen someone’s invitation by working my way in. How could they even keep track in the dark of where people sat? I had no idea.

I wanted to ask someone what was going on, but I was afraid my voice would be overly loud. Not like anyone could turn and look at me, but since I couldn’t exactly find my way out, I didn’t want to be the centre of attention. Plus, leave it to me to shout out something like that at the very moment when they turned the lights on. Floodlights, knowing my luck.

But they didn’t turn the lights on, and no one said anything that gave me any indication of what was going on. The longer I sat there, the less solid the darkness got. At first I thought they were turning up the lights, very gradually, allowing us to see small things. But I realised it was just my eyes adjusting. It wasn’t that I could actually see anything. But shapes began to show up, small movements. If I stared really hard, it seemed that I could see the white of the plates in front of me, just slightly.

Soft music started up somewhere in the room. I turned my head, trying to figure out where it was coming from, but it was nearly impossible. Unlike earlier, when I’d been uncertain if the noise was real or recorded, this music was clearly being played somewhere in the room. A slow, soft classical piece with a lot of violin.