The Darker Side of Pleasure (12 page)

She spoke before she realized what she was doing. “But doesn’t that scare you?”

Cam’s head whipped around to look at her, his dark eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Maybe. Yes.” The redheaded woman shrugged. “But overcoming fear is part of what this is about. For me, anyway.”

Overcoming fear. Lord knew that was one thing Jillian needed to work on. Fear about her marriage, about her own body, about her capability to operate as the strong woman she’d always thought herself to be, and now spent so much time doubting.

It had started when she lost the baby. After that, the whole world seemed unsafe. But she was beginning to regain a sense of safety. And it was through the BDSM play, because the only time she felt truly safe was in Cam’s arms, and even more so when she was bound in the ropes and at his command. When the responsibility for the world, for her own actions, was taken away from her. It was then that she could just
be
. It was then she could allow herself to feel, to be in the moment, without worrying she was going to break down. And even if she did, in those moments, Cam was totally in command, responsible for her. And she felt so utterly treasured by him, she knew he’d take care of her. Not that he hadn’t before. But within the BDSM play that surety came through in a way which was defined by the very roles they played. Maybe this was more than a temporary fix, after all?

Her shoulders dropped. She hadn’t even realized how tightly she’d been holding them. She reached over and found Cam’s hand, wrapped her fingers around it. He smiled at her, that lush, beautiful mouth curving sweetly.

The rest of the discussion passed in a sort of blur. She had so much to think about already. But she was feeling better, calmer. Yet excited at the same time. Even without anything more than discussion going on, a certain air of expectancy lingered in this place. Her gaze drifted to the play equipment set about the room.

Maybe someday…

Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to get her husband home. Her sex grew damp and she pressed her thighs together.

She didn’t want to think anymore. She just wanted to
do
. She wanted Cam to touch her, to tie her up, to spank her, to put the evil little clamps on her nipples, which were springing to attention just thinking about it.

And someday, maybe, she wanted him to do those things to her here.

Oh, God.

Her panties were soaked. She had to leave, had to be alone with him.

“Cam,” she whispered to her husband, “I need to go.”

He looked at her, his smile fading. “Now?”

“Yes, now.” How to communicate her need to him?

She slid her hand from his grasp and brushed it across the front of his slacks. His eyebrows shot up but she’d felt his erection. He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Are you trying to tell me what I think you are?”

She kept her voice low. “Yes. Now. Please?”

“No problem.”

The talk was over, anyway. They stood and quietly made their way to the door while everyone else was still chatting.

They hurried along the dark street to Jillian’s car. Cam handed her into the passenger side, then went around the car and got behind the wheel.

“Are you sure about this, honey?”

“I’m sure.”

He put the key in and revved the engine. “I guess going to the talk tonight was a good idea.”

She nodded, smiling at him.

She watched him shift as he pulled into the street, the way his big hand caressed the stick shift. She wanted that hand on her body, on her breasts, between her legs. She wanted that hand to spank her, pinch her. She could hardly wait. Her pulse hammered in her veins all the way home.

They didn’t speak. She figured Cam probably didn’t want to risk blowing the mood. She didn’t, either. She didn’t want to talk about it. She just wanted to do it.

They arrived home and Cam led her into the living room. The amber glass sconce mounted on the wall in the foyer cast a dim glow. Cam took her hand, and when they were in front of the big sofa, he pulled her sweater over her head. He covered her breasts with his hands. She could feel the heat of his palms even through her black satin bra. He squeezed a little, as though testing the fullness of her breasts and she arched into his touch.

“Not yet,” he said firmly. He leaned in and kissed her, slipping his hot tongue into her mouth.

He pinched one nipple as he slid his hands away and Jillian could swear she felt it in her sex, as though he’d pinched her there. She shifted, rubbing her thighs together.

“Hold still, Jillian. I’ll be right back. I don’t want you to move.”

That soft, commanding tone again. She loved it. And she did her best to hold still, even with Cam out of the room. It was a strange sensation. Strange in that she found some deep satisfaction in doing exactly as she was told. He came back in a few minutes, his hands full. He emptied the items onto the coffee table, taking a moment to line everything up: a coil of rope, a pair of leather handcuffs she hadn’t seen before, the clamps, a small crop. A deep shiver went through her.

Quietly, Cam undressed her, took everything off, until she was standing there naked. The air was cool, but not uncomfortable. She could hear the chirping of crickets outside. There was no other sound but her own heartbeat thundering in her ears.

“Lie facedown on the couch, Jillian.”

There was not a single part of her that thought about discussing the issue. She obeyed.

Her mind was going still already. All worries and doubts drifted away as she focused on her body.

The suede of the sofa was soft against her skin. She pushed her breasts into it, savoring the sensation against her erect nipples. But then Cam’s hands were on her and that was all she could think about.

He ran his palms over her skin: her back, her buttocks, her thighs. She could feel the heat of his hands on her, the intensity of his energy. Then he slipped a hand between her legs, brushed it across her aching mound.

“You’re wet already, baby. You are so fucking hot I can’t stand it.”

He withdrew his hand, gave her ass a small slap. She arched into it, raising her ass in the air, needing more.

“Ah, in a hurry are you? Don’t worry, you’ll get exactly what you need.” He chuckled softly.

He pulled her arms behind her back, and she felt the strange sensation of the leather cuffs being buckled around her wrists. She could smell the earthy scent of new leather. It made her shiver. The bonds gave her that feeling of safety she so loved. And something else, something about the leather itself, and the fact that these were handcuffs—actual handcuffs. The idea of it was a huge turn-on.

She waited, her whole body buzzing.

The slap came hard, taking her by surprise. And she realized immediately it wasn’t his hand, but the crop. She loved the feel of the leather on her skin instantly. Realized she had been craving it since the moment she’d laid eyes on it.

He smacked her again. It stung deliciously. She wanted more.

And Cam gave her more. He began with a few light smacks of the crop, working it in a pattern over her buttocks. She could feel her skin heating up, growing more tender. Yet at the same time each slap of the leather felt better than the last, sending shock waves of pleasure through her system.

The smacks came faster and harder. And with each one her sex filled and ached, even though he hadn’t touched her there.

“Do you like it, Jillian?” His voice was a little ragged, husky with lust.

“Yes, Cam.”

“Do you want more?”

“Yes!”

“Say please, Jillian.”

“Please, Cam. I want more. I need it.”

She felt his lips on her as he trailed soft kisses over her heated skin. It was such a lovely contrast to the bite of the crop.

When he pulled his mouth away and the crop came down hard, the sting was incredible. She almost cried out at the pain. But the pain immediately converted to a pleasure that swept her body.

“Tell me what you want.” Another hard, loud smack.

“I want more. Please, Cam!”

The leather singed her flesh as he started a volley of hard slaps. She writhed on the couch, pressing her hips into the cushions, her body begging for relief. And still it went on, smack after smack, and nothing but her own rough breathing in her ears. Her mind was going to some far-off place, yet at the same time she was more present in her body, and in the moment, than she’d ever been.

She groaned aloud when he stopped.

Cam grabbed her around the waist, lifted her, and suddenly he was sitting on the sofa and she was draped facedown across his lap. She could feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing into her hip. Her sex gave a convulsive shudder.

He ran his hand over the hot flesh of her buttocks, tracing the welts left by the crop. He said softly, “I’m going to give you the spanking of your life, Jillian.”

And then it began. First it was a tapping of his fingertips against her skin. The gentleness of it was excruciating to her and she squirmed.

“Hold still, Jillian.”

But she couldn’t; she didn’t want to. She wanted more.

He gave her ass a good, hard slap, and she smiled.

When he smacked her again the sting reverberated through her system, making her sex throb and her hips dance. She pushed her buttocks higher into the air, giving Cam access to every inch of her, craving the touch of his big hands. On her ass, on her wet sex.

Cam rubbed his palms over her skin for a moment, and then began again, only this time he didn’t stop, didn’t pause to let her take a breath. The volley of slaps grew in intensity and speed, and she really started to lose it. Only the awareness of her hot, aching sex kept her anchored in her body. The pain and the pleasure were a sweet mixture that made her whole being thrum with need. She writhed in his lap, wanting, wanting. It was never enough, no matter how much it hurt.

The sting turned to a heavy thud and still he went on, his hands coming down on her, feeling as though they were almost abrading her skin. The sensation was unbelievable, the pain at a point where she almost couldn’t bear it, and yet she still loved it, still needed more.

She was dimly aware that her breath had turned to ragged pants, that she was moaning aloud in between. And still the spanking went on.

When she thought she’d die if she couldn’t come, just from the pain and the pleasure, Cam reached down with one hand and rolled her clit between his strong fingers. And he didn’t stop smacking her with the other hand. The slapping and his fingers working her were too good. The pain from the spanking was sending shock waves through her, straight to her core. Then he gave her swollen clit a good, hard pinch and she went right over the edge, into the most earth-shattering orgasm she’d ever felt in her life. Her sex spasmed, her legs shook, and she screamed something entirely incoherent. Cam kept spanking, kept pinching her, and the waves pounded over her. The harder he pinched, the harder she came, and she didn’t ever want it to stop.

Finally, it did. But still he was spanking her, and she found through the lovely postorgasm haze that she wanted him to. Now that she’d come, she focused in on the sharp sting of his hand on her flesh. Over and over his palm smacked her. The pain was exquisite. Hard and beautiful.

She felt light, yet the pain kept her in her body. It was as though she could truly feel in a way she never had before. But it was too good to really think about it.

“God, I love you, baby,” Cam said through gritted teeth while he smacked her ass, over and over.

And she felt it, felt his love pouring into her. Tears she didn’t understand stung her eyes. And soon she was crying, then sobbing. Cam stopped what he was doing and pulled her upright into his lap, cradling her.

“Baby, baby. Shh,” he crooned.

But the tears wouldn’t stop. She felt so good all over. Felt
more,
somehow. Physically, emotionally. And it all seemed like too much. The sensations and emotions overwhelmed her and she couldn’t stop the tears.

Cam held her tight while she shook in his arms, the sobs wrenching her whole body. All of the pain she’d held inside for far too long came pouring out, and the sobbing turned into hard, wrenching howls until she thought she might choke.

Cam smoothed her hair, whispered to her, but she didn’t know what he said. All she knew was the white-hot pain of grief and loss stabbing through her. She couldn’t bear it; it was far too awful. It flowed through her limbs, thundered like a hammer in her chest.

She didn’t know how long Cam held her shuddering body, how long the tears were wrenched from her. When it was over, she ached everywhere. She felt empty, wrung out, exhausted.

Cam seemed to know she couldn’t talk about it. He picked her up, carried her upstairs, put her into their big bed. He lay down beside her, kept his arms around her, held her close. Almost instantly, it seemed, she slept.