Ditching The Dream (Dream Series) (39 page)

My eyes clouded with tears as I searched his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the neatly folded handkerchief and blotted at my eyes, careful not to smudge my make-up. “No crying. You’re too beautiful and your make-up is perfect. Don’t ruin those eyes for me.”

Setting the kerchief aside, he worked the necklace out of its hold. “May I?” he asked, holding it up. “There’s a nice touch to this necklace that is perfect for this dress— smaller pendant for the back, to take advantage of the dress’s back, or lack thereof.”

I stood on wobbly legs and turned so he could put the necklace on me. “You have a gorgeous back,” he breathed on my neck, the heat of which shot straight to my sex, causing my nipples to draw tight. After he affixed the latch, he ran his finger down the pendant that hung at the back. Every nerve in my skin was on fire. It was as if I had just been at the mercy of Jack’s red flogger.

He leaned in and kissed the nape of my neck, pressing his erection into my lower back. I pushed my bum into him wanting and needing more. I suddenly didn’t care very much about going to the opera. I wanted him to throw me down on the floor and take me six ways from Sunday.

“Turn,” he groaned as he took a step back from me. “I’d like to see the front.”

I twisted around. His eyes locked with mine for a moment before his gaze trailed downward, hesitating at my lips, then sliding down my neck and chest, settling on the cluster of gems that rested just between my breasts.

“Perfect. Just like you.” He extended an elbow toward me. “Shall we?” he offered.

I bent down, picked up my scotch and downed the rest. I had a feeling I was going to need the liquid courage.

The whole ride to dinner, I was a mess. I was squirming in my seat, trying to find some friction to relive the need that had been growing since I got dressed. Jack, as cool and calm as ever, sat quietly next to me, rubbing small circles on my knee as we drove. I asked him questions about his trip to Paris. I loved how animated he got when he talked about his job. But the entire time, I was somewhat distracted by his lips and tongue while he talked.

Dinner was at a small, sophisticated place that served organic creations. He pointed out one of the menu items to me. My eyes nearly fell out of my head when I saw the origin of the beef.
Stevens Farm, Colorado
. Without any hesitation, I ordered that dish. I was delighted it tasted so succulent.

Conversation was easy and interesting. It was such a relief to have our connected past out on the table.

Jack talked about growing up on a farm and how his parents were upset that he didn’t want to stay. For years after he moved to the city, they never talked. Jack said he’d send them checks to help out, but the checks were always returned. He was upset his help was repeatedly turned down. He was doing what he could, and their rejection was hurtful. He felt them turning down his small generosity made him feel quite unneeded.

His father called Jack’s line of business a “travesty and disgrace to the human race.” “Flaunting skin and sex” and he wouldn’t take a dime of Jack’s “sin money.” Even so, Jack always sought ways to help his family. This restaurant’s organic policy was one way Jack found to help. Behind the scenes, he connected the Chef and his family’s farm. This was one of four restaurants in New York that used
Stevens Beef
on their menu.

When his father passed at ninety-two, Jack’s mother refused to call and tell Jack, but he learned from his oldest sister, Sharon. Sharon was the only sibling that had encouraged him to follow his dreams.

When Jack went back for the funeral, he stayed for a full month, helping out on the farm. Upgrading machines and organizing repairs to the barns and home. His mother, a proud woman, held firm to her husband’s position until the last day of his stay. Since then, she’d visited New York a few times, as well as his company. He’d always kept secret from them his involvement on the restaurant side of things.

We climbed into the limo to head over to Lincoln Center, but dinner hadn’t satisfied me. Jack’s loving words, openness, gentle touches, and approving eyes for the past two hours had fueled a hunger that had not yet been fed. Glancing over at Jack to find him staring at me, a wicked thought flashed through my brain… a scene from a book I read a while back in book club. The couple was in a limo in New York on their way to a fancy evening.

After Anand started the drive to The Met, and I confirmed that the privacy glass was up, I slid off of my seat and settled on my knees between Jack’s legs. I looked up at him with what I hoped were coy and playful eyes.

“Want to know why I didn’t order dessert?” I asked sweetly.

Jack leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. “You are playing with fire,” he croaked back.

“But I want ice
cream,”
I replied biting my lip and hoping he’d catch my little joke.

His eyes tracked my every move. I slowly reached up, unbuttoned his slacks and eased the zipper down, revealing his black silk boxers which barely contained Jack’s impressive length. Reaching in through the opening the shorts offered, I slipped my hand in to claim my prize.

His breath hissed as I wrapped my fingers confidently around the velvety shaft and pulled him free. I loved watching his eyes heat up and become hooded. I loved watching his breath change. I loved feeling his pulse throb in his heavy cock.

Not breaking eye contact, I leaned forward and licked the underside of his length, starting at the base. When I reached the tip, his hips lurched slightly. I swirled my tongue around his crown, earning myself a guttural groan.

“Am I doing this right?” I asked knowingly. “I want to do this right. I need to do this right… for you.”

My answer came in the form of his hand snaking behind my head and pulling me back to the delectable treat that lay before me. I opened my mouth and willingly took him in. He started to go too far, so I pulled back slightly, swirling my tongue around the tip to soften the rejection of not taking him in all the way. He understood my body language and didn’t force the issue.

I continued on my merry way of teasing and laving his erection, taking cues from his reactions, his hand lovingly at the base of my neck. I licked the bottom, the top, and the sides. I gently worked the head. I wanted to be able to take him in further. I wanted to be able to swallow.

“How far do you want to take this, Beth? Because you are about to reach the point of no return,” he cautioned.

I pulled my mouth off his cock, kissing the swollen head. “I want to do this
right,
” I whispered. “I don’t know if I can, but I want to.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” he asked, shaking his head as I took him again into my mouth.

This time I tried to take him in further, but gagged slightly.

“Relax,” he coaxed. “Let your jaw relax.”

I did as he instructed, and was surprised to find that I could take in another couple of inches. The expression on his face was priceless. I continued, adding a tongue swirl here and there.

“That’s it. Oh my god. Your mouth feels so good,” he groaned. His fingers tightened on the back of my head, and his size grew. I knew what was going to happen.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “God knows I want to, but…”

I cut him off as I sucked on him deeper still, his hairs tickling my nose.

“Oh, Beeettthhhhhh” he groaned as he shot his hips slightly off the seat, sinking deeper into my mouth. I felt the first spurt of cum hit the back of my mouth. My eyes flew open, and I swallowed as best I could when another spurt, and then another, came rushing in, Jack’s hand gripping the back of my head with a sweet pain, knowing that I had done well. I continued to slowly suck as his thrusting hips slowed. I made sure he was all cleaned up before I released him.

He leaned forward to kiss me. I could feel him trembling against me.

“Thank you,” he muttered crushing my lips.

“Thank you,” I replied.

“What in god’s name possessed you to do that?” he asked, helping me up into my seat.

“You’ve given me so much. I wanted to give you something in return.”

“By looking at you, and sitting with you, talking and listening to you, letting me touch you – you give me all I need.” He leaned over and kissed my lips with sweet care.

Suddenly I felt like crying. Why hadn’t Jack and I met when we were both adults, before I married Greg? And if we had met then, would we have the same chemistry? I liked to believe we would have.

“Don’t cry,” he pleaded pulling me under his arm so my head rest against his impressive chest. “I’m sorry.”

“I just wish we’d met before I…” I let my sentence trail off so I didn’t bring up
another’s
name.

“I’m not so sure you would have liked the person I was back then.” I looked up to see him turn his face to the window. My heart broke just a bit for him. “I was an angry person twenty some years ago. Choking down the rejection of my parents. Frustrated with everyone trying to get something
from
me. Not just the women, but my agents and managers… Had I not found the BDSM lifestyle, I may have broken apart altogether.”

I rested my hand over his heart, wishing I could repair it somehow. “How… how
were
you introduced?” I asked, immediately wishing I could take back the question. Did I want to know? Maybe I’d had one too many cocktails at dinner.

“It’s not important,” he said, dismissing me.

“Why?” I asked.

He sat silently. Unwilling to continue, but my mind was suddenly flooded with questions. I pressed on. “Were you ever on the other end of the flogger?”

He nodded.

“Worse than the flogger?” I continued. He stiffened slightly under my head.

“Did you like it? The more harsh things?”

“There was something satisfying about being under the bite of a paddle, or a crop, or a whip.” He turned his eyes to me and pulled my chin up with his finger. “But it’s not for everyone. And at the time, it served a purpose.”

“What sort of purpose?”

He took a deep, slow breath. “It helped me to let go of guilt and anger.” I nodded my understanding. I imagine it was like the ‘bad spankings’ Jack had given me. I wondered what a paddle, or crop, or whip would feel like.

“Enough of that talk. Besides, we’re here,” he said sitting up and letting a smile spread across his face.

I faced the window to see the large, illuminated fountain at the Lincoln Center. A different excitement filled me. My first official visit to the opera.

W
e had box seats sitting high off to the left. The view was amazing. I was entranced by the songs, the dance, and the seductive story. When Carmen’s hands were bound by Jose when she was arrested, my mind was suddenly in Jack’s room when he had me tied. A glance to Jack, and I could see the twinkle in his eye and knew he was thinking the same thing. Art imitating life. He raised a brow to me when Carmen danced her erotic dance for Jose. By the intermission, I had promised myself that I would visit the opera at least once a year. No exception. Even if I had to go alone.

We strolled out into the lobby where everyone milled around in their evening finery. Jack brought me to the bar with a bounce in his step, nodding to people he knew here and there. I don’t know why we didn’t stop and talk, but I had a sneaking suspicion that Jack had another plan in mind because we simply left the main area where couples chatted amiably with friends about the show.

“Are you enjoying the show?” he asked.

“What little you are letting me watch, yes, I am,” I replied referring to the numerous times Jack leaned over to nuzzle my neck and slide a hand into the slit of my dress. “Thank you so very much. It’s all so magical. The performers are amazing,” I gushed.

“They are… they are…”

We turned down a hallway completely away from the crowds. “Where are we going?” I asked.

“I once went to a pre-concert lecture here and I think it was down this hallway.”

“A lecture hall?” I asked.

Jack opened a door and dragged me inside. The lights from the courtyard illuminated the room. Rows of chairs sat facing a table set up for a panel.

“Did you bring me here to teach me something?” I asked.

“There’s so much you have to learn,” he whispered as he handed me his drink and pulled the deep cut V of the dress aside revealing my breasts. He cupped them, leaning in, pressing me into the wall and crashing down on my lips.

“We’re going to get caught,” I breathed.

“Nonsense. Besides I’m going to teach you something. That’s what this room is for. Simple.”

His hand slid up my thigh and slipped inside and under the fabric. He felt the garter, and pulled the fabric aside, then leaned back to see. “Nice choice.”

Jack’s hand continued its upward climb between my legs until he found my wet slit. I thrust my hips into his hand, aching for more. He rolled his finger in a small circular pattern around my clit. His lips trailed down my jaw and my neck. He clamped a mouth over my right breast and bit down gently on my nipple. Suddenly I’d forgotten all about the opera. All I wanted was him to plunge a finger, or two, into me. I wanted his cock driving into me. I wanted more. But who was I to complain? The attention to my clit was about to send me over the edge.