TiedandTwisted (3 page)

Sam flashed a knowing, sympathetic grin. “Sorry, man. She
never sticks around long enough for anybody to talk her into bending the rules.
No sex. Not for her.”

David took small comfort in the knowledge he hadn’t heated
her up for another man. Maybe Melanie’s theory had some merit and Jovanna
preferred women. No. When he touched her, when he squeezed the high, firm
cheeks of her ass, she got goose bumps for
him
.

Opposite him, Sam’s focus shifted to something over David’s
shoulder. A server with short hair and long legs murmured an apology for her
interruption and presented a small, square envelope with Bondage’s stylized “B”
logo on the flap. David pressed a few bills into the server’s hand and withdrew
the notecard.

J. says “thank you”. She requests a meeting in the Blue
Suite, Room Seven. Please wear a condom and a mask.

“I changed my mind about the pass,” he said.

Sam withdrew his wallet and slid the silver-embossed card
across the table. “That from her?”

“Yeah.” David stood. “Masks?”

“They’re kept in trays outside the door of each room.”

With a nod of thanks, David headed for the nearest
staircase. Upstairs, he snapped a mask into place. The plain black affair hid
the upper portion of his face but left the lower half bare.

Inside the room, the blue-light theme continued. Jovanna
knelt at the foot of the bed, her back to the door. The lighting scheme took
the blue-dyed streaks in her hair and rendered them electric where the long
strands fanned across her bare back. He almost missed the blindfold she wore, a
length of black fabric knotted behind her head. The black bled into the darker
swatches of her hair. The thong she’d worn on the floor downstairs was gone,
revealing the full span of her heart-shaped ass poised above her calves and the
vulnerable soles of her feet. Conscience tweaked at the base of his skull and
he hesitated with the door half-closed behind him.

He knew her identity. She expected anonymity, but he knew.
Every time he saw her—not that he ran into her very often—he would remember the
way her muscles drew taut while she anticipated the whip. The way she relaxed
into the deep heat of the landing blow. If he accepted her invitation and
buried his cock in her willing pussy, he’d remember even more. The squeeze of
her slick heat around his dick. The arch of her back. The pitch of her moan, if
she was a vocal lover.

If he accepted her invitation and later she discovered
his
identity—what then? His business was fragile and new. Jovanna’s contract wasn’t
the primary money maker on his client list, but it helped keep his business in
the black. And more than the risk of alienating a client, he didn’t want the
risk of alienating a woman who attracted him so strongly.

Raking his fingers through his hair, he cast a frustrated
look around the room. A mirror occupied the wall to his left. A cabinet and,
above it, an array of toys suspended from hooks occupied the wall to his right.
Tooled leather harnesses hung beside riding crops, studded gloves and skeins of
rope.

On the bed, Jovanna moved. She turned her head slightly
toward him and wet her lips. “You showed a great deal of skill downstairs.”

“Practice,” he replied roughly. He had plenty of practice
with plenty of women, both nameless and not.

She tucked her chin close in a short nod. “Will you close
the door?”

His grip tightened on the handle and before he completely
decided between his conscience and his cock, he pulled the door shut. Some
clever trick of acoustics muted the music that slammed so vigorously on the
play floor. In the social lounge downstairs, he’d been able to talk with Sam at
a conversational volume. With the door closed in Room 7 of the Blue Suite, the
music faded so low he could have heard Jovanna whisper.

She moved at the sound of the door latching, flexing her
narrow feet and folding forward onto her hands and knees on the bed. The soft
shadow of her slit peeked at him from between shapely thighs.

Makes me want to grab a strap-on—
Christ.
He
exiled the rest of the thought, refused to allow Melanie a voice in this situation.

The memory did give him an idea. Violently suppressing his
urge to open his pants and hilt himself in her ready flesh, he crossed to the
right wall and catalogued the contents of the cabinet. Dildos in a variety of
sizes, wrapped in plastic to signify they’d been sanitized since their last
use, nestled in a long, wide drawer. He selected two phallic toys from the
array despite the protesting throb of need in his cock. On the way back to the
bed, he commandeered a straight-backed chair and dragged it with him.

He dropped the toys, one a short, slim plastic vibrator and
the other a thick, weighty rod of silicone, onto the bed and positioned his
chair directly behind her. “I don’t do no-name sex, sweetheart, but I’ll finish
what I started downstairs.”

Her thighs and ass tensed. Relaxed. She whispered, “All
right. Thank you.”

With her agreement, he sat and stroked his palms over her
high arches and slim calves. “Spread your knees and sit back for me.”

Jovanna took direction well. In keeping with his instructions,
she adjusted her position until her thighs splayed wide and her hips hovered
above her heels. Her wetness glistened in the low light and made the bare,
silky lips of her pussy gleam. Drawing deep on the clean scent of her arousal,
he indulged himself and touched her the way he’d wanted to touch her down on
the play floor.

She quivered for his fingers. David slid two into her
without effort, his way eased by her cream. Jovanna’s shoulder blades drew
together and she hung her head but not before her low groan of approval reached
his ears. Hot and tight, her inner walls flexed hard. He resisted the demanding
pull and withdrew, spreading her wetness up to her anus. She shuddered and he
permitted himself a grim smile. He hadn’t missed her earlier reaction to his
touch. If they wore fewer masks and kept fewer secrets, he’d mount her and
shove himself deep.

Instead, he retrieved the short vibrator and ran it down
between her spread legs, thumbing the vibe to a low setting as the tapered head
crested her clit.

“Ahh!” she yelped and curled her toes against the midnight
linens beneath her.

David grasped her thigh to keep her still and dialed the
vibe to a higher setting. He swirled the hard plastic tip through her folds and
thrust shallowly into her pussy while she trembled in his hold. The pattern of
her breathing changed from steady to erratic as he returned to her clit.

“Hold still,” he ordered. He released her thigh and fingered
her again, gathering wetness. Jovanna’s back bowed but she held otherwise. With
the vibe still against her clit, he drew back, returned to her ass. The tight
muscle resisted at first but her low, moaned “yes” encouraged him and on her
next breath he penetrated the little pink ring.

The small stretch sent splinters of pleasure straight to her
nipples. Jovanna’s breath hissed out in a rush as she fisted her hands in the
slippery satin beneath her palms and bucked her hips up into his touch. He
didn’t chastise her for disobedience beyond flicking the vibrator to yet
another speed. Faster, more intense, the hard wand tormented her clit and
pushed her straight past the point of orgasm, shoved the nerve endings over
into numb.

She needed numb. Numb freed her to concentrate on the
fullness inside her. A plea rolled to the tip of her tongue but she muffled it
against the mattress, pressed her face hard into the pillowy fill of the bed’s
comforter.

No begging. She wouldn’t beg. She—

“No!” She gasped, locking her elbows and rearing up, a blind
attempt to follow his retreating fingers.

The vibrator fell away, its hum muted by the linens. He
spread his hand across the small of her back, held her with the rough heat of
his palm. “Let me,” he muttered. “I know you want more than that.”

She did, but— “Oh. God.”

Something thick and blunt pressed into her pussy. Long. Not
him. She sensed he had taken his stand, wouldn’t falter. She wouldn’t be
feeling the press of his cock or the slap of his sac against her clit. Instead,
she’d settle for the smooth, spongy phallus. Sinking deep, pulling back,
sinking—

Jovanna whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut hard behind her
blindfold as the fake cock disappeared, leaving her empty. Again.

“Please,” she breathed raggedly, proving she
would
beg.

“Shh,” he soothed.

Behind her, the mattress depressed between her splayed knees.
Cloth grazed the backs of her thighs as he joined her on the bed. The hand at
her back slid around, over the crest of her hip and under her belly. Long
fingers tunneled between her labia, found her clit, and she wasn’t numb
anymore.

Tingling pulses of heat rippled outward from that central
point as he manipulated her flesh, pulled the hood of her clit back and brushed
his fingertip across the exposed peak. She swallowed a shriek but couldn’t halt
the spasm of her muscles. Gasping for breath, she turned her head to beg again.
His herbal scent, sage and something sensuously citrus beneath it, distracted
her.

Then pressure. An insistent push between her cheeks,
something broad. Thick. Exhaling hard, she forced her body under control.
Stilled for him.

“That’s it,” he rumbled softly. “Relax, sweetheart. It’ll
only hurt for a minute.”

She didn’t tell him how much she looked forward to that
momentary pain. Didn’t tell him how much sweeter the pleasure could be, a
tingling reward for her brief hurt.

He thumbed her clit one last time, gathered thick cream from
her pussy, and used the wetness to paint a lubricating circle around her anus.

“Now,” she whispered and this time
he
obeyed.

He angled the crown of the phallus against her pucker.
Jovanna exhaled and flexed her inner muscles, a slight push out to aid his push
in. The burn, the spark of pain, was instant and she groaned, arched her back
to relish the first sensation. Fullness followed. Her skin tightened and her
nipples peaked, responding to the slight drag of silicone along her inner
walls. As he began to fuck her, she blessed him for foregoing synthetic
lubrication. This way, she felt everything.

Soon, he found a steady rhythm, unfaltering in his thrusts.
She splayed her fingers across the comforter and tried to pretend she held him
instead, tried to imagine the flex and release of his biceps in her grip while
he drove into her from above.

But it was all imagination. He carried her deep into fantasy
without letting her forget the reality of silicone instead of flesh. Expertly
applied silicone, but she craved the real thing. His weight pressing her into
the mattress. The hard drive of his pubic bone against her clit.

Despite the shortcomings of reality—all her fault, only
hers, her fault and her fear of being trapped once more by attraction—she
swiftly approached a peak. Her chest ached with each labored, gasping breath
and her arms had long since given away.
He
still remained strong,
whispering praise and encouragement with each twisting thrust.

When he stroked between her labia and rolled her clit
between his fingers, she lost the battle of prolonging their session. The bed
linens muffled her screaming release. Shuddering, she sprawled boneless on her
stomach.

Gentle fingers replaced the dildo at her ass. He stroked her
crease, caressed her thigh while she panted and trembled.

And
finally
, he covered her. As she lay shivering, he
stretched out along the length of her body. The rock-stiff ridge of his
erection nestled up against her ass but he still wore his clothes.

“Good girl,” he whispered beside her ear. Praise.

Jovanna swallowed.
This
was what she’d found lacking
in their earlier play. Praise afterward. And comfort.

* * * * *

Friday, 1:35 a.m.

She’d been gone for hours. He’d occupied himself with cat’s
cradle for some of the time, weaving purple yarn between his fingers while he
listened to the local radio station. He didn’t mean to kill her tonight, but it
was a Friday and he was bored. A man with a limp didn’t attract much attention
in bars. Not only had she wiped out his retirement fund, but she’d also
demolished his sex life.

As another half-hour block of music started, he muttered a
frustrated curse and flicked the loop of yarn onto the passenger seat. Bitch
had picked someone up somewhere. She wasn’t coming home before she had a late
breakfast and a morning-after fuck wherever she’d spent the night. He reached
for the key in the ignition—and paused, holding his breath. Headlights arced
across the parking lot. Her little red two-door cruised into the empty spot in
front of her narrow townhouse.

Smiling, he watched her move around inside the car,
gathering her bag or whatever the fuck she was doing. She finally stepped out.
A double beep of her car alarm indicated the alarm was set. That suited him
fine. Tonight, he wasn’t triggering any alarms, wasn’t putting in an appearance
on any cameras. Tonight, he was sitting back and enjoying. He had plans.

She hitched her purse over her shoulder and climbed the
steps to the postage stamp that passed for her front porch. His dick hardened,
rose tight against the fly of his jeans. Four seconds. Three. Two—ahhhh. Her
motion sensor porch light flared bright and illuminated his gift to her.

* * * * *

Cunt. You owe me money.

Adrenaline flooded her system, a hormone overload on top of
the endorphin high she’d been riding seconds earlier. Jovanna spun away from
the uneven words drawn in something red and oily on the glass panel of her
storm door. With her back to the door and the dark, silent parking lot in front
of her, both fight and flight failed her.