The Mammoth Book of Erotica Presents The Best of Saskia Walker (6 page)

Shortly after, she found herself naked and blindfolded, standing with her back against the wall, her hands splayed either side of her – just as he had instructed. Keyed up to the max, she shifted anxiously, unable to stay still. She’d never been blindfolded before, but the velvet covering her eyes was soft as a sigh, a shield that raised the awareness of her every other sense. Her body ached for contact, for pleasure and relief.

She could sense him moving.

The room was silent and the air was still, but she knew he was treading softly, watching her and making a plan. That was his way. Maybe she’d sensed that in him when she’d watched him across the counter. It was his curiosity, and his intensity, that had spiked her interest. Rightly so, as it turned out.

She heard a click and a fan whirred into action. A moment later the air brushed over her alert skin, tantalizingly. A whimper escaped her.

He began to hum under his breath, then he sang to her huskily. A song she loved. A song from ages ago. Breathless, aroused laughter escaped her; she felt delirious under his spell. “Dougie, please, you’re playing with me.”

“Always, sweetheart, but you love that.”

He was so right. She squeezed her thighs together, scared to say more, and scared to ruin this.

“Will it drive you mad, not being able to see where I choose to write on you?”

“I don’t know.” She swallowed. “Maybe.” She turned her face away, desperate with longing for that first touch, the pressure she craved – her skin was crawling with the need for it. Watching him write on her was half the pleasure, she thought. Not seeing it was an unknown quantity. But Doug knew and understood that, and – now – so did she.

Slowly, he drew a line around each wrist.

Her arms trembled with the sheer intensity of sensation that shot along the surface of her skin, and deeper.

“Shackles.” His voice was a murmur close to her. “Because I want you to be mine.” He kissed her throat and then, slowly, with great deliberation, he signed his name right across her breastbone.

“Oh. Oh, oh,” she cried. The intense sensation shot beneath her skin, wiring her whole body into the experience. Her nipples were hard and hurting. She shuddered with arousal, her toes curling under, her heart thudding against the wall of her chest.

His next move came out of nowhere. He drew along the crease at the top of one thigh, then the other. The sudden deep stimulation in a place so sensitive primed her for release. She longed to see his marks on her.

“The insides of your thighs are wet, right down to here.” There was admiration in his voice. Restraint, too. He touched her with the pen, briefly, between her thighs, and it made her squirm up against the wall.

“Face the wall,” he instructed, his voice husky.

She turned.

His cock brushed against her buttock. “There’s a box to your left, step onto it.”

She moved her foot, felt her way. He guided her up onto the box.

“Offer yourself to me.”

Understanding hit her; he was going to fuck her there up against the wall, while she stood there on a box, blindfolded. This was Doug; this is how he liked to have her, to be in charge of her. Hands braced against the wall, she spread her feet, angling her bottom up and out.

“Oh yes, I like you this way, on a pedestal, all ready for me.” His cock moved between her thighs.

The box put her right at the height he needed to glide up into her. Anticipation had her in its grip. She was breathing so fast she felt dizzy. Picturing the shackles he had drawn on her wrists, she splayed her fingers on the wall, knowing she’d need to anchor herself – he got kind of wild when he was inside her. He was humming again now, and she wondered what he’d done with the pen. Was it in his mouth while he arranged her to his satisfaction?

He stroked her pussy, opening her up. His fingers moved with ease, slick, sliding in against her wetness. With two digits, he opened her up to his cock. The intensity of being felt, held, and displayed that way on a pedestal all at once took her breath away. With one hand around her hips, he thrust the thick shaft of his erection inside her.

Where is his other hand?
The thought echoed around her mind frantically.

Then she found out.

Even as he thrust into her, in shallow quick maneuvers, keeping her in place, he began to write down her spine with his free hand.

It was almost too much. Her shoulders wriggled and her pussy twitched on his shaft. Her stomach flipped and sweat broke out on her skin. She would have staggered, if he hadn’t got her pinned by his cock. She panted out loud, her mouth opening, her body clenching on him rhythmically.

“Oh yes, that’s good,” he said, keeping the pen moving in around her spine, working his way down her back. “This makes you so wild, you’re going to squeeze my cock until I come.”

“Can’t control it,” she whispered, head hanging down.

“That’s the way I like it,” he grunted.

By the time the pen reached her tailbone, she was a panting wreck on the verge of climax. He drew a wobbly heart there at the base of her spine, following the shape around and around with his pen. The action and her response were mesmerizing, and when her climax hit it lasted long, easing off only to return in a rush when he grew rigid and jerked, coming deep inside her.

They stayed that way until his cock finally slid free, and then he untied the blindfold and lifted her into his arms, carrying her toward the bathroom.

She squinted up at him, clinging to him. Kissing his shoulder, his throat, and when he turned toward her, his mouth, she felt grateful to have found her perfect opposite. She was still trembling from the intensity of her release.

“This is one of my favorite parts, scrubbing you down afterward, my dirty girl.”

“It gets you going again,” she teased, smiling at him.

“You’re not wrong there.”

Inside the bathroom, he stood her on the bath mat, and reached for the taps. While the bath filled, he traced his finger across her chest, following the line of his name that he had written there earlier. “So, you’ll move in with me?”

She shivered, an echo of her orgasm tingling from the core of her body to the tip of her spine. “Yes.”

“Good,” he replied, nonchalantly. “Ever thought about having a tattoo?”

She saw the humor in his eyes. He hadn’t made a big deal of her moving in, just as he hadn’t made a big deal about her kink that first day. He’d come to understand her, very quickly. “Having a tattoo would probably kill me, and you know it,” she replied.

“Hell of a way to go, though,” he mused, as he lifted her into the bath.

The warm water moved in and around her legs and hips, melting her. After he scrubbed her down, he would climb in with her. That was one of her favorite parts.

He kneeled down beside the bath and reached for the sponge. “If you ever do have a tattoo, I want to be the one who is inside you while you’re having it done. Is that a deal?”

She reached her hand around his head, drawing him in for a kiss. “It’s a deal,” she whispered.

Luke had a woman in his room.

I could hear the familiar sound of his voice – gravely and seductive – as it filtered out of the partly open bedroom door. I paused on the landing and listened. There was music playing in the background, something sensual and rhythmic. Then I heard the woman’s laughter, and something inside me altered.

The small part of me that was still immature balked because it was some other woman, and not me. But the part of me that was a young woman who was becoming more deeply aware of her own sexuality – the part that had been stimulated by my exposure to Luke in our home – responded altogether differently.

Desire, and the sure knowledge of my own needs, flamed inside me. The crush I had been nurturing for Luke changed. It wasn’t an ethereal emotion cloaked in sighs of longing and wistful glances anymore. It was hardcore lust. And I liked it.

I liked this feeling of being a woman who had physical needs that were more powerful than her daydreams. I could just as easily be that woman in Luke’s room. I wanted to be that woman, it was as simple as that.

I’d wanted Luke since the day he had moved in, three weeks earlier. I doubt my father would have let his business partner stay over after his wife threw him out had he known that I would develop an obsession with him. Dad thought I was far too busy at college. Too busy to notice a man like Luke? No way.

“You’ve met Luke, haven’t you, Karen?” my dad had said when Luke walked into our house that first night, a suit carrier flung casually over one shoulder, an overnight bag in the other hand. I remember being glued to the spot, thinking that I’d surely have remembered him if I’d met him before. Apparently I had, briefly. Four years earlier. I guess I’d been different then. I’d been fifteen and a tomboy. Now I was at college, and my focus was on the adult world, with all its risks and discoveries.

Luke had set down the bag he held and put his hand out to me. “You’ve grown up,” he said under his breath and looked at me with an appraising stare that made me feel hot all over.

I managed to put my hand in his. He held it tightly, drawing me closer in against him. I looked up into his wickedly suggestive eyes, and it made my pussy clench.

My mother disapproved of him.
Why had his wife thrown him out?
she demanded of my dad, when Luke was out of the house. Dad wouldn’t answer. I made up my own reasons, fantasies that featured me in a starring role. Maybe he left his wife for a hot younger woman, me. The truth was that Luke moving in had made something shift in my world. He was a man, a real man. Sex with him wouldn’t be like the fumbling bad sex I’d had with a guy I met at college. As soon as I saw Luke, I knew that it wouldn’t feel like that, not with him. Sex would be exciting, maybe even kinky. The idea of it fascinated me.

Luke wasn’t what you’d call handsome, but he was attractive in a bad boy sort of a way. Tall and leanly muscled, his body suggested athletic vigor. His features were craggy, his hair cut close to his head. He had a maverick quality about him that appealed to the dark side of my imagination. At night I’d lie in my bed and imagine there was no wall between our rooms and that I could reach out and touch his body. I’d imagine him responding. He’d climb over me and screw me into the bed, teaching me what it was like to be fucked by a real man.

During the day when he was out I would go into his room and touch his things. Sometimes I even lay down on his bed. I would close my eyes and breath him in, getting high on the smell of his body and his expensive cologne, the experience building up a frenzy of longing inside me. What if he walked in and found me there? The idea of being caught by him made it even worse. Sometimes I’d push my hand inside my jeans and press my panties into the seam of my pussy, massaging my clit for relief.

Then my parents went away for a fortnight, leaving me in Luke’s care. Oh, the irony. If only they had known how much the idea of it excited me.

It was our first night alone, and I had been thinking about him all evening, barely aware of the blockbuster movie I’d gone to see with my friends. I wanted to get home, to see if Luke was there.

But now he had a woman in there with him, and that woman wasn’t me.

I was intensely curious, and it struck me that I was getting hot just thinking about him having sex, even if it wasn’t me he was having it with. The push-pull reaction of the unexpected situation had me on edge. Torn, I glanced at my bedroom door. He probably thought I was in there, asleep. Like a good girl. I looked back at his doorway and saw a shadow move across the room beyond.

His shadow.

I couldn’t walk away.

Luckily I hadn’t switched the landing light on. I was glad of the darkness, glad that I was standing in the gloom and that his door was open and I could see into his room. I’d had a couple of beers earlier. That probably helped, too. I stepped farther along the landing, until I could see him.

He had his shirt off. I’d seen him seminaked before, in the kitchen in the mornings. He’d have a towel round his waist, his body still damp and gleaming from the shower. I managed to muster up an early morning conversation so I could watch him pouring out coffee, stirring in three teaspoons of sugar as he chatted to me easily, watching me all the while. Watching me in a way that made my body feel womanly and alive. That’s what he’d done to me; he’d made me feel alive. And although I remember saying something in response to his early morning conversations, it wasn’t what I was thinking. What I was thinking was X-rated. I wanted him to bend me over the breakfast bar and introduce me to real sex.

The woman was sitting back on his bed, and he had his knees pressed against hers. As I watched, he bent over her and pushed her silky red dress up along her thigh, exposing her panties. Craning my neck, I could see that they were very small, a narrow strip of sheer black fabric. Luke stroked the front of them, and when he did her hips moved on the bed, rocking and lifting under his touch.

My pussy ached to be stroked that way. My pulse was racing. Would he strip? Would I see him naked, as I longed to do?

He spoke to her in a low voice. I couldn’t hear what he said. Then he straightened up and she also moved, into an upright sitting position. The light was obscured and before I knew what was happening the door opened wide and Luke’s shape filled the frame, a dark silhouette against the light behind him.

My hand went to my throat, but there was no time to try to escape.

“Well, hello,” he said. He didn’t sound surprised. Did he know I’d been there, watching?

“I was at the cinema, just got back.” I could hear my own breathlessness. The light was behind him, but I could see that his fly was open, the belt on his jeans dangling suggestively down his thigh.

“I knew you were out here, Karen,” he said more quietly. “I heard you come in. I was waiting for you to get back.”

I stared at him in stunned silence. He knew I was here. He knew . . . he knew I wanted to go into his room and be with him, that was what he was insinuating. I could hear it in his tone. Did he know I’d already been in there, on his bed? I could feel my face growing hot.