Sexy as Hell Box Set (13 page)

One person, forever. Crazy didn’t begin to describe that future.

Seeing the Ann Summers shop, I shook the last vestiges of unattainable happy-ever-afters from my mind and strode inside, immediately going to the back. It was pointless going anywhere else. All the hardcore items were tucked away behind a well-placed shelving unit housing bras and knickers. Once around the corner, the shop changed dramatically. The saucy joke items and relatively spicy things were a distant memory, giving way to whips, handcuffs, spreader bars, gimp masks and all manner of shock-your-granny-to-the-tips-of-her-grey-hair items. This was my kind of shop.

I thought about what I’d done to Carlos in front of Victor at the club, and a smile spread across my face. I’d watched Victor following our every move, his eyes keen, his expression one of utter fascination, but him trying to look passive. It had been cute, that sharp set of his jaw, raised chin and flattened lips. Had made me wet at the thought of breaking him, having him on the floor begging to lick my shoes and a nice red welt blooming on his smooth, unblemished skin.

Afterwards, he hadn’t mentioned that seeing Carlos with a toy up his arse had turned him on. That seeing such a thing had been what had made him come in his pants. He’d tried to make it look as though he’d been watching me the whole time, that Carlos was of no interest, but I didn’t believe him. Seeing another man submit to a woman, being whipped and penetrated, had turned Victor into a horny schoolboy again, unable to control that meaty cock of his.

But why did he insist on hiding the truth? Was it because it would mean he’d have to admit—again—that he didn’t know everything? That he hadn’t known that seeing someone of the same sex spurting cum all over the place was something he’d find arousing? I didn’t understand his reasoning at all. To me it was no different to watching porn, and the sight of any naked body got me going because that was the way humans were wired. Wasn’t it?

I’d have to teach him another lesson, one that would show him it was okay to give in to curiosity and new desires.

I stepped over to a shelf full of butt plugs of various sizes, picking up a couple to test their weight. I was tempted to go for a long one but thought Victor might not appreciate that for his first time. And I didn’t doubt it would be his first time. I couldn’t imagine he’d ever had anything near his arse other than toilet paper. I stifled a giggle at that and thought about the shock on his face when he saw what I had in mind for him. He’d splutter, protest that he wouldn’t do as I was going to request, all the while knowing that if he backed down, if he refused, he’d show me he was unwilling to play properly—that he
couldn’t
play properly.

No, I didn’t think he would be able to decline. Victor was a man of his word.

A squat, short plug caught my attention. It was black rubber and had a soft ring on the flat end that I could slip my finger through while penetrating him. Wings, made out of the same soft rubber as the ring, stuck out either side. I grinned as a more devilish plan struck me. I tossed my original idea out of the window and decided to go with the new one.

Pleased with myself and feeling back on track, I approached the cashier’s desk, pounced on by a shop assistant who had zoomed in from my right.

“Would you like some lube to go with that?” she asked, holding one hand out to the side to indicate some shelves next to the register that held various scented gels. “This one enhances orgasm.” She smiled proudly, as though she’d created the gel herself.

“For men?” I asked, tilting my head and looking directly at her.

“Oh, I see. Well, if smothered on him, then yes, it would.” She beamed again.

“On him. What part of him?” I asked, enjoying myself.

“His penis,” she said, her cheeks colouring a little.

“Oh right, well, that’s no good to me. I want it to do something to his arse.”

Her mouth dropped open, and she struggled for an answer, finally managing, “Oh!” and a little titter before floating off to annoy someone else.

I turned to place the plug on the counter and waited for the older assistant poised at the till to ring up my sale. She placed it in a bag, handed it over, and I was off, heading for the nearest post office. I had to buy a padded envelope. From there, all I needed was to find a quiet spot where I could use my phone and credit card.

I had a mission in mind.

Mary had been testy ever since I’d arrived at work this morning. I had a feeling it was me coming in with a smile on my face and a hearty laugh for my cheeky apprentice after he’d asked if I’d “got some” last night. I didn’t usually have anything to smile about so early in the morning, unless you counted me winning a bid to draw the plans for a building.

Mary had taken it upon herself to add placating and nurturing to her secretarial duties since Helen and I had parted ways. I realised, what with Mary’s children being long gone from the nest and her husband resting in the cemetery, she had no one to care for, to worry over, but for her to act upset because I wasn’t my usual down-in-the-dumps self felt a little wrong.

Maybe I’d misinterpreted and she’d had some bad news.

I hadn’t let it bother me other than for the time it had taken to process the change in her—
couldn’t
let it bother me because, God, my mind was crammed with Zara. I’d made love to an incredible woman, had felt her soften in my arms, succumb to me. Sure, she’d soon reverted back to her know-it-all self, but still, I’d had her my way, taken what I’d wanted while giving her what she’d needed. She wouldn’t admit it, no, that wasn’t her style, but I’d felt it in her every kiss, caress and in the way her pussy had trembled around my cock as she’d caught her breath.

Then, although she’d slunk out leaving just a note saying she’d see me today, I’d woken for the first time in what seemed like forever, without Helen being the one to flutter through my thoughts.

Zara had been there instead. Zara, with her beautiful long hair, her tiny little body, her infectious grin. Her sometimes shockingly crude language, her way of making me burn up inside with just a quick glance, her…just
her
. The whole package wasn’t something I would ever have chosen had I known exactly what unwrapping her would mean at our first meeting, but since fate had had a hand in things, I’d discovered not to judge a person by the impression they gave. And I’d done that when she’d sipped her coffee that day, telling myself she was my type, the kind who needed a man to take the reins and show her what was what, look after her, cherish her. And Christ, how she’d changed the minute we’d gone back to her place. How my perception of her had been shattered. How my world had been tilted on its axis.

But axis tilted or not, she excited me like no one else ever had and I wanted more of it. More of her.

I sat up straighter behind my desk, surprised at that revelation. I’d always thought I wanted a soft and gentle woman at my side, but now Zara had shown me a different dimension to femininity and it had made me hungry. I wanted—needed—her in a way I couldn’t explain. Yeah, I’d known she was a drug, a vixen that would take some shifting from my system once our time together was over, but I knew now that thoughts of her would remain long after we’d gone our separate ways. She
would be with me wherever I went, branded into my skin, my heart.

I sat up even straighter, shaking my head to deny that last thought that had sneaked in. My heart. Really? No, no way. Besides, was she even up for that kind of thing? I didn’t think so. She’d made much of letting me know when we’d initially met that a one-night stand was all she’d been after—was all she’d ever be after. I was kidding myself if I thought we could have more than what had originally been agreed. Besides, she needed more than I could give her. Would probably want me smacking her arse at all hours of the night or using one of those flogger things on her. Could I hurt her like that?

Julie came to mind and I closed my eyes, seeing that woman striking herself, whacking at the scars she’d already inflicted upon her skin. No, I couldn’t do that to Zara. Could I? My instincts screamed that I ought to protect her, to cherish her and show her that the life she was living really wasn’t something she’d have to do anymore if she was with me. Then I realised, with an ache in the pit of my stomach, that the lifestyle Zara lived was one she’d chosen, one she needed. If we were to ever see each other on a more permanent basis after our game had ended, how could I expect her to give up what made her happy? She clearly craved a higher level of sexual stimulation and more of it than I did—although the latter was maybe changing since I’d had more sex this week than the last three months—what with her exposing herself to people the way she did at work, an exhibitionist hankering after being adored or whatever the hell she thought these men felt for her. I knew, being a man myself, that she was nothing more to them than a visual, a real-life porn mag where the object of their desires moved and spoke instead of just posing flatly on a page.

My balls ached. I squirmed in my seat, trying for a more comfortable position, but the ache grew, as did my cock. Standing abruptly, I went over to the window and stared out, thinking of Mary at an old-age pensioner’s tea-time gathering to stop myself getting any more aroused. Images of clacking dentures did the trick, and as my dick deflated, I went through what I had to get done today. I’d had a request come through to draw up plans for a supermarket that wanted a new look, mainly glass and steel, and one aspect of their application would have me scratching my head in order to come up with a way to do what they wanted without it being a huge safety risk. I nodded, telling myself to get on with it instead of procrastinating. Instead of daydreaming about sex with a woman I had no chance in Hell of being able to keep satisfied in the long term.

Turning from the window, I made my way across the room to my drawing area, startled by a brisk rap on the door. When Mary didn’t come breezing in, I frowned, wondering who else would need me when they were all meant to be busy.

“Come in,” I said, staring at the door.

It opened, and Mary appeared, holding a small white padded envelope. I was about to ask her why she hadn’t done her usual, knocking then entering, but she held the envelope up and waved it.

“This came for you by courier,” she said, remaining at the door. “Unscheduled.” She
tsked and gave me a stern look as though I wasn’t allowed anything via post unless she knew about it first.

Maybe I would need to have a word with her if she continued like this. I wasn’t about to let my secretary control my life.

Further confused by her behaviour, I waited for her to come in and either hand it to me or put it on my desk, as was the norm. When she didn’t, I asked, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” she said, too quickly, and flapped the envelope again.

I walked towards her, took it from her, and asked, “Are you sure? You don’t seem like your usual self.”

“I’m worried about you,” she said, pursing her lips.

“Why? I’m perfectly fine.”

“Well, it isn’t really my place to say—”

“Then maybe you ought not say it.”

She ignored me. “People will want you for your money, you realise that, don’t you?”

What she’d said irritated me, and I held back a retort she didn’t deserve—one that would have been biting and cruel. I knew exactly who she’d referred to with “people” and wished she’d just come right out with Zara’s name.

“Perhaps they will,” I said, turning away from her to hide my scowl on my way to my desk. “But some
people
have money of their own and have no need of mine. Some people don’t expect me to buy them anything. Believe it or not, some people like me for who I am and spending time with me has nothing to do with my wallet.” I’d gone too far in making my point, I knew that, but I hadn’t been able to stop the words once they’d started tumbling out. Her picking at Zara had hit a raw nerve, one I hadn’t realised was there until now.

“Oh,” she said, backing away from the door. “Well, I was only… I’m… I…”

She closed the door, leaving me somewhat startled and angry at the same time. I knew she’d meant well, but she’d been referring to someone I’d begun to feel protective of and that had rankled. Yes, my pretty minx had a way about her that might give the wrong impression, dressed in a style that someone of Mary’s age wouldn’t possibly understand—in a style
I
hadn’t understood when she’d put on that bloody PVC dress—but having been in Zara’s company, in her bed, in her cunt, I’d come to realise that what was on the outside most certainly didn’t always match what was on the inside. Not that I knew much about the inside yet. She was a closed book there. But I would. I’d make damn sure of it.

I toyed with the envelope, waiting for my anger to disperse along with the strange new feelings of protectiveness I had for Zara. The handwriting on the front wasn’t anyone’s I recognised—neat capital letters, blocky and large, written with a slim-tipped black marker pen—and I was intrigued to discover what it contained purely because it had been delivered by courier and was so small. I usually received bigger packages via such a delivery system, often in big cardboard tubes and most definitely none that came without prior notice.

I tore off the end in one long strip and peered at the contents. What appeared to be a small burgundy carrier bag was inside. I reached in and, feeling a packet beneath the plastic, I pulled. Drawing it out, I widened my eyes and dropped it on the desk. A rubber…
thing
was attached to a card that proclaimed, in rather lurid font, I felt, to be a butt plug.