At Her Command (Fantasy Heights) (4 page)

“You know what I’m sure of? I’m sure you don’t understand the meaning of hubris. And I’m rapidly reaching the point where I might not care what happens to you when those two reach their inevitable conclusion.”

Marla’s color strobed red, then white, then back to a deep crimson of either rage or embarrassment. Amanda couldn’t tell, and Marla didn’t give her time to figure it out. The other woman got up from the dressing table and hurried away.

“Great, Thomas. Thanks,” Kara complained. “Now I’ll have to chase her down to get those damn rollers out.”

Beverly sighed. “Even I have to admit she had that one coming.”

Amanda looked from one face to another, trying to gather clues. Did this have something to do with Gail, the blonde? Did both of them know they were seeing the same woman? Or had something else caused this feud?

Gruff now, and remote, Thomas gave Kara an order. “Get Amanda ready. I need a word with Derek.”

Beverly and Kara maintained a tense silence once he’d gone, and Amanda didn’t see Thomas again until she had stepped onto the set. He stood silent and masked in a corner of the darkened room. He gave a slight nod, and she resigned herself to forcing him into a little chat, later.

For now, she had to focus on the fantasy which, to hear Derek tell, had been replayed so many times by this client that it was more like therapy than fantasy fulfillment. They used one of the busiest sets on the resort, the Viewing Room. The walls in this twenty-by-twenty room were floor-to-ceiling two-way mirror, save two wide panels for doorways at either end. A viewing gallery ringed the room on all four sides, allowing clients to observe the proceedings from many directions. The audience might be alone behind the glass or with someone else, doing just whatever they liked while the players performed from the client’s custom script.

Derek had been a nice surprise. He was her age, about six-feet tall with a head of unruly brown hair over green eyes. At first sight, she didn’t think him handsome. ‘Compelling’ suited him better, for his demeanor made her like him almost instantly. There was a spark to his eyes and mannerisms that radiated intelligence and mischief and virility. His lean, agile build was enough on its own to ignite all manner of naughty hopes.

Amanda, turned on by the thought of experiencing him for herself, felt a wave of heat roll over her, warming her from the inside out. Something liquid and torrid took hold as she watched Derek come through the door on the opposite side of the set. This client had made very specific requests about certain things, wardrobe included. Derek wore an ultra-conservative navy business suit with a white shirt and bland tie. Amanda was dressed similarly, only in a white suit. Its gauzy, pleated skirt was so short she wasn’t sure why they’d bothered, but at least it wouldn’t get in the way, provided the client didn’t commandeer Derek before they reached that point.

Her hair was knotted tightly behind her head. A soft, ivory satin mask covered a majority of her face. She was merely a placeholder as far as the client was concerned, and her orders were to vanish immediately if the client decided to come in. Until then, she and Derek had a strict script to follow. He would dole it out bit by bit once they met at the desk dominating the center of the set.

As ever, she was directed to speak as little as possible, preferably not at all as they approached the desk from either side. In the client’s tableau, she was the higher ranking executive. She and Derek wheeled chairs over so they were seated side by side, conferring over some report or other. Just a normal day at the office, denying an attraction they couldn’t indulge.

On the report, Derek wrote her first command.
Flirt. Angsty and slow and forbidden.

He himself started the festivities by transferring his attentions from their fictitious report to her bare neck. His gaze lingered there, betraying the attraction. She pretended not to notice. She squirmed a bit in her seat, telling herself it wouldn’t be right to act on anything she was thinking or feeling.

Their arms brushed against each other. He kept pressing long, powerful thighs against her softer, more supple version. Sometimes, the way he looked at her, as if he could live and die by the slightest sign of affection from her had a sultry, almost narcotic effect. High-octane desire was already pouring through her every vein by the time he scrawled the next command.
Brush my arm with breast
.

After a moment’s thought, she rose slightly from her chair to reach across him for a second pen. She deliberately dragged her right breast along his forearm. He didn’t react until after she returned to her seat. Only then did he let out a shuddery sigh while his body language crumpled with guilt.

Meanwhile, her own body responded to the very real cocktail of excitement. Following his commands was pleasure enough on its own. Doing it while Thomas watched, and knowing others watched from behind the glass, multiplied the effect. Hunger began to roar inside. Little acting was required to portray a sexually excited state. Her breath came quick and hot now, and she could feel the slickness of desire building between her legs.

Derek’s next command was almost a relief.
Take off jacket, slowly, showy.

She got to her feet once more and arched her back to bring her breasts hard up against the white silk shirt. A roll of her shoulders started the suit jacket sliding down her arms. Derek’s gaze savaged those glimpses of firm breasts against soft fabric before darting back to the report, where his attention allegedly belonged.

The next step couldn’t come quickly enough for her tastes.
Repeat brush.

This time as she reached across him for a notepad, she felt a staticky crackle of pleasure in her nipple as it brushed his arm. Even through the bra and silk shirt she could feel the pressure of contact.

Derek’s eyes fixed onto the
V
of cleavage she displayed. His demeanor had changed. His face flushed and his movements became jerky and erratic. His handwriting was practically a scribble as he scrawled out the next instruction.
Stand up and reach for orange folder.

The thick orange plastic folder was clear across him on the far corner of the desk. To reach it, she would have to sidestep between him and the blotter and lean over besides. She got up and made the movements long and languid, getting between him and the desk. The skirt was so short that as she bent forward to pick up the file, he had a nice, long look at the juncture of her thighs. She wore nothing beneath the skirt. Her pussy was right there, inches away, open and aching for his attentions.

Behind her, Derek let out a tortured sound that resonated between her legs. If only he would touch her there. She wished he would relieve the tension already turning her to liquid fire.

When he did nothing to stop her, she returned to her chair. Her swollen clit sent a demanding jolt through the rest of her body as she sat. She would be so disappointed if the client came in before Derek fucked her.

His eyes positively glittered with mischief as he scribbled the next note.
Sit on blotter. Take off shirt, then bra.

Not possessed of much self-control at this point, Amanda had to fight to keep her motions slow and seductive as she once more got to her feet. She turned her back to the desk and perched on the edge, right in front of Derek. One by one with cruelly slow intent, she unfastened the shirt’s six buttons.

At first, Derek looked almost panicked and scandalized, but by the time she reached the last button, he had leaned back into his seat to watch the show, his eyes following every small motion of her hands, hungry and eager and indulgent.

From her vantage point, his excitement was obvious. His erection strained against his zipper. She reached both hands behind her back to unclasp her bra. The cool air provided no relief for already tight nipples. Derek’s appreciative stare didn’t help, either.

She wondered briefly how he would relay the next command in their script when he solved the mystery for her.

Very softly, he spoke. “Take my tie off.”

She obeyed, slipping the blue and gray tie free of its knot, and then his collar. As soon as it came loose, he issued the next quiet command.

“Tie my hands to the chair arms.”

She liked where this was going. A lot. Using the tie as an impromptu restraint, she secured one wrist, and then the other.

His next order was hardly necessary. She could almost guess the rest, and when he whispered the next instruction anyway, her arousal skyrocketed.

“Touch your breasts for me.”

She took her time on this step, tracing her fingertips over ribs, teasing by denying him what he wanted to see for a while. She tickled and traced the curves at the sides of her breasts before arching her back once more to emphasize the swollen, pale flesh.

Finally, after a number of anxious sounds from Derek, she let her fingertips brush her taut nipples, enjoying the spike of pleasure and the way it echoed in her pussy. She loved the buildup of this fantasy. She liked taking his orders even while tormenting him with them, very much in control of her own pleasure, if indirectly.

She closed her thumb and forefinger over her nipples and pinched hard, showing him the reddened nubs. She rolled and twisted, heightening the powerful sensations. She could feel her arousal beginning to leak from her pussy, and wanted him to see what he was doing to her without touching her, even once. After slipping one foot from a high heel, she slid it beneath his bound left hand to rest on the chair arm.

He closed his fingers around her ankle, holding her in place. His eyes begged for more, and she gave it to him, lifting the front of the gauzy white skirt and parting her legs. She hoped he would let her indulge in a slightly more aggressive show, and he obliged in a voice that was little more than a growled plea. “Take that skirt off and rub your pussy.”

Again she obeyed, wriggling free of his grasp and taking her time, drawing out his anticipation. When she did finally settle back down onto the blotter, she leaned back to spread her thighs wide. His eyes were heated now, starving. His hands clenched into fists and pulled tight against the restraints.

Wearing only a wicked smile, she let her right hand stray between her legs, skipping the warm-up entirely. She worked the tip of her index finger into her pussy and pushed straight in, sinking in as far as it would go.

Derek approved. “More. Finger-fuck yourself.”

Happy to follow those instructions, she lay back on the desk. She propped her feet on the edge, spread before Derek. Two fingers slipped inside her pussy, pumping in and out. She did it slowly at first to let him get his fill of watching. She sped up when he began to struggle against the restraints.

Soft, involuntary gasps of pleasure began to escape before Derek issued the next command. “Untie me.”

She very nearly said no, but she wasn’t in charge of this fantasy. If Derek wanted to take over completely now, she had to surrender control.

Fingers slick with her own wetness, she pried at his bindings. When she had freed his first wrist, they both fumbled to untie the other. She worried they might have unleashed him too late. He was barely in control of himself and she could feel the strain of effort he imposed to keep his hands gentle while he guided her back onto the desktop and pulled her knees wide apart.

Derek placed her right hand between her legs and helped to press her fingers back inside, guiding her hand, thrusting hard in, slower on the way out. He dipped his head, adding his tongue to the torturous pleasures building inside. It was all she could do to breathe through the need for release, controlling the tension, restraining the orgasm before she had permission from him to come.

The script, however, had not yet played out. She nearly screamed in frustration when the door off to her right snicked open. A new observer came in, followed by an older, redheaded woman. She wore an exact duplicate of the white suit Amanda had worn.

The client.

When Derek realized their time was up, he whimpered out a curse. She could feel the self-control it cost Derek to remove his hands and mouth from her body. Crackling desire stretched and strained in the air between them while he sat up and redirected his grip on her wrist, pulling her upright instead of guiding her fingers to penetrate herself deeper and deeper.

Amanda forced herself not to make any sounds, disappointed or otherwise. The client’s fantasy was at stake. Though still electric with need, Amanda slipped gracefully, soundlessly off the desk.

Someone—Thomas, she realized after a moment—took her elbow and hustled her out the door opposite and straight through the gallery. Any manner of reckless thoughts careened through her head as they went. She could see Thomas was hard as a rock. She herself was drowning in need. She could do nothing but hope that he had enough mercy in him tonight to put out all these fires.

It seemed he had similar thoughts in mind as he hurried them onward, weaving through some short darkened hallways until they gained the complex near their throne room. Thomas continued onto the Moroccan-themed room. He closed and locked the door behind them.

Leaning
against it, he let his eyes lock onto her. She matched him in rapid, shallow breaths, reading the question in his eyes, along with something else that went a bit beyond any pressure-valve policy. Something both brighter and darker at once. Something that brought an entire dimension of trouble to life.

One word jumped to mind, and she said it aloud. “No.”

Thomas smirked, and then his stomach clenched on a laugh. “I think the technical term for it is ‘Hell, no,’ but come here anyway. We both know this is just chemicals fucking with our heads.”

She nodded, grateful he had the ability to slice through a lot of nonsense, straight to the truth of the matter. Raging now with impatience, her pussy aching with pent-up intensity, she joined him at the door. She went directly for the drawstring at his beltline. The bow gave way easily. She slipped her hands inside to flatten them against his hard-muscled flanks. Beneath her right palm, she could feel the slight bumps and ridges of those mysterious scars.