Knowing the Ropes (4 page)

Without breaking from the kiss, he nudged her legs open with his thigh. She took the hint immediately, straddling him. His hands moved her hips back and forth, a subtle but inescapable rhythm. He twitched his leg against her.

For an instant, Selene remembered they were on a busy street in the heart of Boston and told herself to hold back.

Then it dawned on her that they were, indeed, on a busy street in Boston, where she knew almost no one. In the short time she’d lived here, she’d passed by plenty of couples making out, not to mention couples arguing, people smoking things that definitely weren’t legal, and one guy having a boxing match with an imaginary opponent. Only the boxer had registered in any detail, and if she’d been in a hurry or talking on her phone, she might not have noticed him except as one more obstacle to avoid on the street.

She was in public—surrounded by people—and yet in some ways completely private. People might see, but chances were they wouldn’t care, and if she and Nick did succeed in shocking a stranger or two, those strangers needed to get out more often.

The dichotomy of being exposed yet anonymous sent a frisson of desire through her already needy body, heightening her sensitivity, her arousal, her awareness of Nick’s kiss, his possessive, sure hands, his cock pressing against her, his thigh between her legs. She couldn’t hold back any longer. She swayed her hips, grinding herself against him, her wet sex soaking through her panties and skirt and onto his jeans. Blood thrummed in her ears. Nick’s kiss became even more insistent, claiming her.

Despite the heat, Selene started shivering.

Nick’s lips traced their way to her ear. “Come for me,” he whispered. “Get yourself off, here on the street.”

Selene hadn’t thought she was in any danger of actually coming so publically—but the deep burr of his voice in her ear pushed her over. Burying her face against Nick’s chest to stifle a scream, she shuddered and clenched as she fell into the fire and exploded.

He held her close as she trembled. When he softly kissed the top of her head, that simple gesture came close to setting her off again. When she stopped shaking and looked up at him, he mouthed,
Good girl
. She clenched, setting off an orgasmette, a mini-detonation that echoed the huge one.

“I think,” she said in a voice that had taken on a weird Marilyn Monroe quality, half breathless, aroused woman and half lost little girl, “it’s time to get someplace more private. Like you said, too nice a night to be arrested.” She paused for effect, then added, “Too nice a night to be handcuffed by anyone but you.”

“I prefer rope,” he said, putting his arm around her waist. “Come on. My car’s at Post Office Square.”

Chapter Four

In the darkness of the parking garage, Selene took a deep breath and asked something she probably should have asked earlier. “This is a play date, right—not a date-date? I’m still learning the ropes, and you seem like a guy who knows your ropes—and whips and all that other stuff—but I don’t know what else I want. My last relationship ended pretty badly and…”

“You too? That sucks, but at least we’re on the same page about keeping it light and fun and seeing where it goes from there. BDSM can fuck with your head and heart if you let it. Sometimes a play partner you like and trust is the safest way to go.”

It was exactly what Selene needed to hear. After the fiasco with Will—she’d almost married him, for heaven’s sake, just because everyone seemed to expect it and he’d wanted it so badly—she needed to keep things light and sexy-friendly. So why did her heart sink a little to learn Nick was in the same place in his life?

She could have brooded on that for a while, but luckily, Nick came out with the perfect distraction. “Now that we’ve got that settled, take your panties off.”

Selene stopped in her tracks. “Did you say…?”

“Take your panties off.” He pulled her closer, whispered in her ear in that throaty, intense voice she was starting to recognize as his dom voice. “I know we haven’t talked about limits, so this is a request rather than an order. But I’d like it if you did.” He guided her hand to his cock, straining against his jeans. “Feel how much I like just thinking about it, and imagine how much I’ll like it if you do.”

Utter icy terror coursed through Selene’s veins. She couldn’t just take her underwear off in a public place, could she? People just didn’t do that.

Then again, people didn’t usually caress other people’s cocks in public, even stealthily in a dark corner, but she was making no move to snatch her hand away. Nick’s grip on her wrist felt right, and his denim-shrouded cock under her captive hand felt even more right. At the moment, they were alone, but someone could come across them at any time—and rather than scaring her, Selene had to admit, the idea jacked her already fierce arousal even higher.

And hell, the panties were so saturated at this point that they weren’t even comfortable. “I’ll need my hand back,” she whispered, giving Nick one last stroke as he let her go.

Slithering the panties to her ankles was easy enough, no worse than slipping out of a bikini bottom under a towel so she could do a quick change. Getting them from around her ankles without tipping over in her high heels, though—that was a bit of a challenge.

Especially when a loud group of teens barged, laughing and shoving each other, into their part of the garage. Selene froze, knowing the panties were visible if any of the kids bothered to look, but knowing they’d be far more likely to look if she bent over.

When the kids passed, she braced herself on Nick’s shoulder and stepped out of the panties.

At least that was what she meant to do, only they caught around her left ankle. Holding on to Nick, she kicked out with a little more force than she intended. The panties flew off her foot and skittered under someone else’s car. She chuckled nervously, but when Nick echoed her, it turned to a real, honest laugh.

For a second, she thought about trying to retrieve them, then thought better of it. No point in ruining her dress or Nick’s shirt for a five-dollar pair of panties.

And it wasn’t like she was going to need them again tonight.

Selene hadn’t given a lot of thought to what kind of car Nick might drive, but she hadn’t been expecting a bright red Prius. The surprise must have registered on her face.

“You were expecting a muscle car? Or maybe a Ferrari?” He chuckled and added, “When I win the lottery, I’d love a vintage Mustang and a big pickup for the country place I don’t have yet, but for the life I live, this is perfect. Sometimes it really is all about the gas mileage.”

She laughed. “I can respect that, though I still can’t get over that gas is cheaper here than in New York. Not that it helps much, since nothing else is and the extent of my driving these days is moving the car from one side of the street to the other for street-cleaning, since driving in town terrifies me.”

“You get used to it, but it’s still sucktastic, just a sucktastic you’ve learned to cope with.”

She reached for the passenger door of the Prius, but Nick beat her to it, opening it for her so she could slip in. She kicked off her heels again almost immediately, sighing with relief.

Nick got in, closed his door and whispered, “Hike up your skirt.”

A little thrill went through her. She raised herself slightly in the seat and flipped her skirt up behind her. The pragmatic gray upholstery was coarse against her ass, not living up to the cool, smooth leather she’d always imagined, but it certainly made her aware of her bare skin and Nick’s scrutiny.

“I see you read
The Story of O
.” Nick’s voice was rich with amusement.

Selene felt herself blushing. “It made an impression, even if every single character was crazy as a red-assed bee.”

“As long as you know that, everything will be fine. But I should I have been more specific, because we’ve all read
The Story of O
, and while the bare ass on the seat is lovely, it wasn’t what I had in mind.”

He reached across her body to grab her seat belt. The sudden proximity, the scent of his body, overwhelmed Selene’s senses. She moaned and embraced him, needing more contact, needing him in a way she’d never needed.

For a tantalizing second, Nick let her hold him, her face pressed against his side. Then he slipped out of her arms and settled back into his own seat. The seat belt clicked into place. “I love strapping down a willing woman,” he teased, only she had the feeling that while he was teasing, he was in no way joking. “Now tuck your skirt up under the belt. I want you bare.”

If she hadn’t been wet already, those words, in that tone, would have done it. She flooded at the command in his voice, or maybe at the way she didn’t even think about disobeying. In the low car, she’d be exposed to truckers, maybe even to people in tall SUVs… They probably wouldn’t see much in the dark, realistically, but the important part was that she
felt
exposed. Vulnerable. Open.

“I’m going to stain your seat,” she said as she tucked up the soft folds of her skirt. The fabric felt silkier and more sensual than she’d ever noticed before, caressing her hands, caressing her bare thighs as she drew it up.

His smile seared her skin. “Worth it. Now open your legs.”

She did, trembling with anticipation of a touch, a further order.

“Beautiful. God, you look so sexy right now.” He ran one finger over her slick pussy lips. She arched up, straining for more, but she didn’t get it.

Even that light touch had coated his finger with her juices. He made a great show of sucking and licking them off, his eyes closed as if he was focusing on the flavor, basking in the moment. Selene felt it herself, low in her belly, a tightening and fluttering that combined lust and anticipation and a hint of anxiety about the adventure she’d plunged into when she’d only intended to test the water. If just getting into the car had left her this wet and trembling and Nick—she glanced over to check—straining in his jeans, what was the ride going to bring?

As it turned out, Nick kept his hands on the wheel for most of the trip to his place in Jamaica Plain, occasionally touching her thigh but nothing more intimate, none of the caresses her swollen clit and dripping pussy so desperately craved. Whenever they stopped, he turned to look at her, open longing in his eyes, but he didn’t do anything more.

Mostly they talked. Some sexy banter to tease them both further, but also the everyday things you might discuss with any new friend: jobs and childhood homes and dreams, and in Nick’s case, the awkwardness of working on the same programming project with Craig. “Luckily Craig’s odd and abrasive even by code-monkey standards, so no one wonders why I avoid him. Everyone does.”

Selene laughed at that—wound up as she was, probably more than the remark merited. Muscles clenched as she did, and the giggle turned into a gasp. For a few minutes, the conversation had distracted her from her arousal, from her half-naked state. The movement brought it all back to her, and suddenly her heart raced and her blood pounded in her ears. She worked her fingers helplessly in the material bunched up around her hips so she didn’t put them between her legs. Just the lightest flick of her finger now would bring her off, grant her at least a little release from the painfully delicious pressure building inside her. But she instinctively knew that wasn’t a good idea. He’d tell her if he wanted her to play with herself, she was sure of it. The self-denial, and Nick’s denial, his pretending he didn’t notice her state though the look in his eyes said otherwise, was perversely pleasurable, reminding her that at the moment, Selene was under Nick’s command.

Because she chose to be there.

It felt just as amazing as she’d always imagined.

For a second, she flashed to Nick’s serious eyes as he’d said how BDSM could fuck with your heart. It was starting to make more sense. But she wasn’t going to let that happen.

Chapter Five

Nick’s condo was the second story of a refurbished Victorian home in a pleasantly funky section of Jamaica Plain. As they entered, Selene breathed a sigh of relief at the blessedly cool, air-conditioned air, then looked around the living room.

Although she wouldn’t have admitted it for the world, she was mildly disappointed that it was just an ordinary condo, and a single-guy condo at that, not bad but basic. The couch was deep burgundy leather, expensive-looking and almost new; the easy chair across from it was well-loved and upholstered in a rather battered deep green fabric that didn’t clash but certainly didn’t match. A desk in one corner held a computer. Most of the rest of the décor was chosen for function rather than form and looked like it came from someplace along the lines of Ikea: chrome shelving for storing books and media, a plain coffee table, simple lamps, a throw rug. Two doors led out of the room, one an open archway that went to the kitchen, the other leading to a hallway that, she guessed, led to the bedroom and bathroom. All perfectly decent, but not the den of iniquity that, on some level, she’d been hoping to find.

The only den-of-iniquity touches, and those were mild, were three framed photographs, artistic black-and-white female nudes. The model’s face was hidden. She wasn’t in bondage, although she wore a leather collar and cuffs, and in only one was she kneeling—actually curled on her knees in the yoga pose called the child’s pose, her long fair hair spread in front of her—but something about her body language spoke of submission and pride in submission. They were all the same model, an elegantly slender, graceful-looking woman with tattoos and rings in her nipples.