Seduction (8 page)

I nodded, looking down into his face as it dawned on me that his beautiful full mouth was right about crotch level. Then the room was moving again but only in my head. Samuel bowed his head forwards, his brow hitting just above my mound. With the pressure, I could feel my pulse beating fast and crazy in my pussy. ‘Samu–'

‘Shh,' he said. He looked up at me and smiled. Inch by inch, I watched him lean in and place his mouth over my pussy. His breath seeped through the flimsy fabric of my skirt, snaking through the grid of my fishnets, the crotch of my panties, to invade my swollen sex. My head lolled back on its own and my heart beat so hard it hurt. I put my hands on his shoulders, feeling him breathe against my cunt.

His lips moved in a barely perceptible motion over my mound, effectively sealed over my pussy lips. I could feel the heat of his mouth through what felt like mountains of fabric and I was giddy with it. ‘I . . .'

‘Shh.' The vibration of his shushing worked through me and my cunt flexed, so very ready to come and then come again. But it wasn't going to happen like that today. I could tell already. Something like intuition told me that he was toying with me. And I liked it. His fingers fanned over my ass and he pressed himself more firmly to my pussy, the ridge of his teeth
lending a sharp pressure that was painful and pleasant all at once. ‘I need fabric samples. Can you bring them?'

I was nodding, nodding like a lunatic and running my hands over the wide shoulders of his suit jacket. I had thought they were padded. They were not. That was all him.

‘Can you bring them for lunch tomorrow? On me. We'll write it off.' He nudged my clit with his thin, sharp nose and my knees did a flimsy little curtsy that threatened to spill me onto the floor.

‘Yes.' My voice was little more than a whisper.

He held out his hand to help me down. I took it, still feeling the moist warm spot between my legs left by his humid breath. ‘And Jillian?'

‘Yes?'

‘Don't bring me those little one-inch squares. No one can tell a damn thing by a one-inch square. Big pieces of fabric so I can really see. OK? I'll pay if I need to.'

‘Big pieces,' I repeated. I was slightly dazed and doing a piss-poor job at hiding it.

‘Good girl.' He leaned in so his lips touched my ear like the first time and he reiterated, ‘Good, good girl. Now I'll heat up your soup. You need to eat.'

While he heated the soup, I went into the ladies' room and hiked up my skirt. I braced my heel on the wall of the stall and shoved my hands down into my panties. One shaking hand stroked hot, eager circles over my clit. With the other, I finger-fucked myself until I sagged against the cold wall and had to bite my tongue to stifle my cries. I relished each honey-sweet contraction that worked through my cunt, the memory of his hot mouth over me there. So close and yet so very, very far.

This man was driving me crazy and I was loving every minute of it.

I had handkerchief-sized swatches of the brown, crème and blue fabric and another of the barn red with off white. They were stashed in my purse with my lipsticks and my BlackBerry and perfume. Six outfits! Six wardrobe changes before I settled on my taupe and black wrap dress with yet another pair of tall boots. No fishnets today, nothing but back-seamed black stockings attached to my garters. Something about old-school garters and hose made me feel undeniably sexy. Like a sinner with no hope of redemption.

‘There's no way. He's married. I mean, she is like twenty and her boobs are clearly fake and she probably gives a killer blowjob. He's just fucking with you. He just wants to turn the tables. You started this and he's going to teach you a lesson. Like one of Aesop's fables or a morality play. Don't fuck with the married man or you'll get burned.' I muttered all of this to myself as I walked briskly to The Tarnished Spoon from my mid-day appointment.

I should have been super-excited about having landed the design job for Blow Out. The salon was going to be fantastic in chrome and black and red. But instead of excitement, I was gushing between my thighs at the memory of Samuel pressing his mouth over my sex and the heat that came from between his lips. It wasn't hard for my mind to take it one step further and imagine his tongue sneaking out to taste me there. Or the pressure he would put into the swirls on my swollen clit. Or how the rigid tip of his tongue would feel pressing past my entrance and dipping into the sweet cream of my cunt and . . .

I almost walked into the front door. A small sign had been taped to the door.

CLOSED FOR REPAIRS
.

WILL REOPEN AT THREE
.

I stalled out, confused. I stared at the sign and it seemed to stare back. Until the door cracked and Samuel peeked out. He smiled. ‘It doesn't mean you. I closed
for
you. Come on in.'

My stomach did that roller-coaster dip and I swallowed a high nervous laugh. I was jittery and my body was reacting with Pavlovian ease. See Samuel. Want Samuel. Pussy gets wet. As easy as one, two, three. ‘Thanks.' I stepped inside the dim dining room and found myself blinking again. We were alone. ‘I brought you the fabric –'

‘That's great, Jillian. But before we go any further, let's visit the kitchen. I can't have you redoing the Spoon without adding a few touches to the kitchen.' His eyes were dark and he had a nearly lupine look. Like he was the Big Bad Wolf and I was Little Red Riding Hood. My body was all chaos and urgency.

‘I . . .' I felt a little dizzy and reached out to touch him to steady myself. The tingling of arousal that coursed through my fingers didn't help, so I let go. ‘I don't do . . .'

I didn't do kitchens! Kitchens were a whole other animal. You had to know about floor drains and ovens and sinks. Pot racks and venting systems and walk-in freezers. A swell of panic that felt like a tidal wave rose in my chest and spots bloomed before my eyes.

‘It's OK. I'm just asking you to look. You need to breathe. Breathe, Jillian.'

I did as instructed and nodded. ‘Kitchen,' I said dumbly.

‘Come on, it will be fine. I promise.' He took my hand and I felt that surge of predatory glee I had felt when I started this whole thing. I had only been trying to steal the job from Mrs Radcliff. And, if I were to be completely honest, to get a little male attention and an ego boost. And now he had shaken it all up and got me all crazy and . . . I followed dumbly, unable to even follow my own train of thought.

We pushed through the swinging double doors and stainless steel glowed all over the place. Walking from the dim dining room into the brightly lit kitchen was like walking out into the blazing sun. Nothing looked familiar to me. I saw sinks with an overhead rinse hose, and a huge griddle. Gigantic stoves, one
with eight burners and one with four. Overhead racks held really big pots and swinging utensils. It was spick and span and shiny and might as well have been an alien planet for all I knew about the kitchen. ‘Um . . .' I wanted to say something intelligent at least. ‘Nice,' I said.

Brilliant.

Samuel chuckled and turned me to face him. I looked up into his face, holding my breath. He was big. Bigger than I had ever really realised. I was tall for a woman. I was wearing kick-ass boots and I was still looking up at him. Feeling small added to the overwhelming feeling of urgency and desire. I was ready to throw myself on the stainless-steel table and hike up my skirt. Instead I smiled and tried to keep eye contact. He moved in closer so that his pelvis hit mine and I felt the hard ridge of his cock in his slacks. My eyes drifted closed for a moment and I pressed back against him. Liking the feel of the hard-on. Liking the fact that it was for me. I opened my eyes but only for an instant when his lips touched mine.

And then he was kissing me and walking me back, my purse still tucked under my arm. I held his shoulders and let his tongue deep into my mouth. When my hips and ass hit the steel table, I gave a startled little sound but didn't break the kiss.

‘Fabric samples,' he said against my lips. His hands settled on my hips, heavy and imposing. I wondered if he would leave fingerprints on me from holding me so tight. I hoped so.

I pulled them from my purse and handed them over, then watched, my heart beating wildly, as he examined the two fabrics. What the hell? Big hard cock, big deep kiss and then . . . fabric swatches? Odd. I yelped when he found a weak spot and ripped a strip from the brown print fabric. ‘Nice. I like this one,' Samuel growled and ripped another strip from the large piece I had supplied.

‘But . . . but, I thought –'

‘Hands up, Jillian,' he said with a wicked smile. ‘Hands up in the air like a good little girl.'

I could smell his aftershave and his clean skin and a trickle of wetness seeped into my panties. My cheeks flooded with colour almost akin to shame and I raised my hands like I was under arrest. ‘Oh, OK,' I said.

‘You are a very naughty girl. But so very interesting too, you know.' He talked softly to me as he tied one of my wrists to the pot rack overhead. I nodded but remained silent, twisting this way and that to try to relieve the demanding thump of my cunt and the constant nervous flutter in my belly. ‘You come in here and seduce me into redoing my restaurant. You flaunt your body and your brain. I don't know which is sexier, by the way. And then you go and get all shy and girlish, which makes you that much more desirable. Makes me want to fuck you that much more.'

My throat seemed to grow small when he said the word ‘fuck', and as if they had a mind of their own my hips rose up to bump against his so that I could feel that hard line of his dick in his pants.

‘And I intend to fuck you,' he went on, taking my other wrist and pressing his teeth to the intense beat of my pulse where my skin was thinnest. He licked over the spot with the flat of his tongue and then stretched my arm up and tied me. ‘And might I say, your wardrobe choice for today was genius. It's as if you knew. I bet you did. Somewhere deep down.'

I shook my head no and then found myself nodding. Details, I'd had no idea of those. The intent to fuck, that I had felt pretty certain of. Deep down I had known, if I was honest. He pulled the tie on my wrap dress and unfolded the halves until I was standing there in my hose and garters and tiny panties and a bra. My skin pebbled with goosebumps and he stepped back to look at me. It was a slow lingering look that had me testing my bonds by the end.

‘Spread your legs.'

I did. Wantonly, ignoring my shyness, I spread my legs and when he touched me I hissed air like I'd been burned. ‘You're so wet. You little slut. Are you a slut for me?'

And there I was nodding again. It all felt so surreal but so very, very good too. I pushed against his hand to see if he would slide a finger into me. I was rewarded when he pushed my panties to the side and knelt on the red tile floor. His mouth was as hot as I imagined, his tongue as good as I had hoped. He flicked hard circles over my clit with the tip before dipping his tongue into the wet, wet centre of me. When he added a few fingers to the fray and stroked my G-spot with a gentle kind of dominance I came swiftly. I let go and gave into the warm waves of orgasm, biting my bottom lip to try not to be loud. But I was still loud. I shook so hard as I came I set the pots and pans into a merry little melody of shaking and swaying metal.

‘You're sweet like something off the dessert cart,' he said, looking up at me from the floor. His tongue toured my pussy once more and I jumped around in my ties. I was so sensitive his tongue felt almost brutal. He unzipped his navy-blue slacks as he stood and his face was set in a way that made me nervous and excited all at once. He fisted his cock as he came at me and I automatically spread my legs wide. So fast, my ass was on the stainless-steel table and he was sliding into me, my black panties still pushed to the side, my stockings and garters intact. I wrapped my legs around him as he fucked me. My upper body stretched so taut I felt the pull in my ribs, the discomfort only adding to the bright white pleasure of his cock sliding in and out of my body.

‘My God, you are wet. You little slut,' he said again and I felt my cunt flex at the word. I would come again, I knew that much. He bit me gently above my collar-bone and when my pussy tightened around him like a fist, he bit me harder. ‘You like a bit of pain, don't you?'

I was nodding again even though I had never responded to any kind of pain before. But hanging there at his mercy, I loved the feel of his teeth on me. His hands pinned me to the cool metal and he fucked me faster, the immobile table legs squealing with what sounded like glee. I rose up to meet him as I felt another orgasm sliding towards me. ‘Oh, God,' I said as I came.

Clichéd but true. I called out to God and came again as Samuel bucked again and growled. The orgasm distorted his face. He didn't look as hard or in control or scary when he came.

The bright room was filled with the sounds of us panting. ‘Christ, we sound like a pack of dogs,' he said and I giggled. He kissed me on the lips and I sucked on his tongue for a moment, wondering what it would be like to suck on his cock.

Samuel pulled free and opened the walk-in fridge. He disappeared and then returned with a cold soda in his hand. He took a long swallow, his cock still poking from his slacks. Then he put the bottle to my lips and tilted it so I could drink too.

‘Aren't you going to untie me?' I asked, licking the soda from my upper lip.

‘Why? We have tons of time. We have the place to ourselves till three,' he said softly. There was that lupine look again. My nipples went hard and he yanked back the lace cups of my bra to see. Then he leaned in and kissed me again. His lips were cold and tasted like soda, his eyes full of malicious intent.

‘
I'D BE TOURING
America if I wasn't stuck in here.' Beatrice tore at the limp green shoots around the foot of the delicate vines. ‘Imagine it, Caterina. The open road. Booze, blow. Boys.'