Total Abandon (8 page)

“Hey.” He took her upper arms in his hands and held her away. “I thought I told you I’m in charge here.”

Breathing hard, she stared at his body, right down to the outline of his erection. All she could think of was
want
.
I want
. He’d shut off everything in her brain but the most primitive pleasure centers.

“There’s one last thing we have to settle before we go on,” he said. “You have to choose a word.”

“A safe word?” Lord, what was she getting herself into?

“In a way, but it won’t make me stop. When you say it, I’ll do anything you want.”

He was staring at her as if what she said next could determine her future. With her mind so addled by sexual need, she could only think of one word. “Brent.”

For a moment, his expression softened. “My name?”

“You’re who I want.”

“Okay, then.” He waved a finger under her nose. “No climaxing. Resist, no matter what I do to you. Use the word only out of desperation.”

“What—”

Before she could finish whatever the hell she’d planned to say, he picked her up as if she weighed nothing at all. The shoes fell from her feet, but they’d already done their work. They’d turned her into an ultra sexual being, ready for anything. He could take the game deeper from here. She’d given him permission.

He carried her to the bed, but instead of stretching out next to her, he stood on top of the comforter and helped her to a standing position as well. Their weight made a dent in the mattress, but it held up well enough for him to reach upward and pull down a chain from the high bedpost. He used the clasp to fasten it to one of her wristbands. Her brain had barely registered that fact before he’d pulled down another chain and repeated the procedure with her other hand. Tugging on the other ends, he adjusted the bonds so that she stretched out, her arms off to the sides and upward against the bedposts.

His task completed, he knelt on the bed and smiled up at her. “Look at yourself in the mirrors.”

She did, and again she hardly recognized herself. The skin of her neck and chest was flushed with excitement, and her breasts rose and fell with her ragged breathing. Unconsciously, she’d spread her legs wide as if inviting his touch everywhere, especially between her legs. She’d offered herself to him, all right. She’d made herself completely vulnerable. She didn’t have to go through this charade if she didn’t want to, as they both well knew. She obviously wanted to. Very much.

“Now, then,” he said. “I’m going to do the ultimate to you. Keep your attention on the mirrors, and do not climax.”

The ultimate could mean only one thing, and sure enough, he settled himself between her legs and parted her pussy lips with his fingers. The first pass of his tongue over her clit would have knocked her to her knees if the chains hadn’t been holding her up. With a whimper, she let her eyes drift shut.

He stopped immediately, pulling his face away from her mound. “I told you to look at yourself in the mirror.”

“Right.” The word came out like a whisper, using what little breath she could get into her lungs. As she looked on, he took his place again and tipped his face up to her sex. This time when his tongue found her hot button, she watched the movements of his head. Her vision blurred, but she managed to keep her eyes open.

What a show he gave her. A man performing the most intimate kiss for his lover as though worshipping his goddess. A woman accepting his gift as her due. Although bound by her chains, she seemed ready to take flight. No. In some perverse way, her chains gave her the freedom to soar. As he continued the gentle rasp, rasp, rasp of his tongue over her clitoris, her heart pounded in her chest, and her breasts nearly spilled from the bustier with the violence of her breathing.

Still, she fought the climax. He’d ordered her to. As long as she could keep from coming, he’d give her more and more of this pleasure. Who knew what else he’d planned for her? Who could guess how long he could keep her in this highly aroused state? Eventually, she’d succumb. She’d have to. But until then, she’d experience the sexual excitement she’d never dreamed of before she’d set foot in Club Ecstasy.

By now, she could hardly keep her eyes open, and her breath was coming in gasps. The last thread of her control threatened to snap, and she gritted her teeth and pulled against the bindings at her wrists to distract herself from the tension building between her legs.

He stopped licking her again. “You’re going to climax, aren’t you?”

“No. Honest.”
Yes, yes. Touch me again.

“I thought so. I have a solution for that.” He climbed off the bed, leaving her hanging. Literally. Every nerve screamed. She watched as he went to the table and selected two items—one a very long feather and the other a life-like phallus. How those two items could keep her from climaxing escaped her fevered mind. Especially the dildo. That would have the exact opposite effect.

He was wearing his wicked smile as he climbed onto the bed. He set the dildo aside and then caught her staring at it. “You want that, don’t you?”

“I’d rather have you.”

“Of course, you would. That way you could seduce me into letting you climax.”

Hell, yeah. That sounded like a fabulous idea. She could give it a try if her hands weren’t tied to the bedposts. At some point, they ought to get it on together. She wouldn’t want to waste a beautiful erection like the one he wore right now.

Kneeling at her feet, he reached the feather up and slid it over her face. Nothing but softness as it glided over her cheeks and mouth. He trailed it over her throat and down into the cleavage between her breasts. Interesting torture, if that’s what he thought he was doing. For the moment, it did distract her from the gathering chaos in her pussy, and so it did work to put off her orgasm. But only put it off, not prevent it entirely. Nothing short of dousing her in cold water could accomplish that, and maybe even that wouldn’t work.

He continued, now trailing the feather over her chest to the pit of her arm. That created an entirely different sensation. She couldn’t say it actually tickled, but the sensitive skin there responded with a prickling sensation, jangling her nerves. That, in turn, connected with the sexual charge already building inside her. Maybe it was torture, after all.

“Like it?” he asked.

“Not sure.”

He continued beneath her other arm, and she couldn’t help but squirm. He was toying with her. Touching her, but too lightly.

The sensations went away as he moved the feather over the bustier along her side, but then he settled it at the back of her knee. Another sensitive place she hadn’t thought of as sexual, and yet the gentle stimulation heightened all her senses, causing her to notice the scent of citrus from the earlier massage and the sweet taste of Brent’s kisses that lingered on her lips. She glanced at the mirrors again and saw a handsome man tickling his lover with a peacock feather, of all things. And still, the woman stood, stretched out for him and allowing him to do whatever he wished to her body.

Finally, he brought the feather up one thigh toward her pussy. It felt like silk against her skin, slithering upward and landing on her lips. Even that light contact was enough to bring her clit back to life. It throbbed in anticipation of something—anything—rubbing against it.

“Should I touch you with this?” he said.

“You are touching me.”

“You know what I mean,” he said. “Should I touch your clitoris? Should I see if I can make you come that way?”

“I’m not supposed to come.” But she would. The only question was could he make her climax with the brush of a feather?

“Right you are. Let’s see if I can make you want to come.” With his free hand, he parted the lips of her sex and then brushed the feather over the tip of her clit. Talk about jangling nerves. She almost jumped out of her skin. He continued stroking her ever so softly, and she leaned into the contact as much as the chains allowed her. Too little. Too gentle.

“I’ve never made a woman climax with the touch of a feather,” he said. “I wonder if it’s possible. I’ll have to try that some time.”

By which he meant not now. Bastard. They both knew he was doing exactly that this very minute, and he could give her an orgasm with the feather. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of confronting him about playing with her. His smile had already grown too smug. He sat there, grinning like an idiot while he continued the maddening strokes over her clit that almost, but not quite, could push her past the breaking point. With no other choice except using the word and ending this game, she clenched her teeth and hung on.

“I have another idea on how to make this really good,” he said.

“I’ll bet you do,” she said from between her teeth.

“You’ll like it. I promise.” He picked up the dildo. Clearly, he hadn’t brought it over here for show. The absolute worst thing he could do with it would be to slide it into her aching pussy; of course, he proceeded to do exactly that. He parted the lips and eased the head inside, and she couldn’t contain a groan of pure carnal pleasure.

Working slowly, he inserted it into her an inch at a time. Her muscles closed around it as her mind blurred with need. Though large, the dildo didn’t match Brent’s cock for size. To think she’d had him inside her before and had failed to climax. If she could have him for a few minutes, she’d sure as hell come this time. To tempt her even further, he reached to the bedside table and removed a condom. After tearing the packet open, he unfurled the rubber over his erection.

He could have only one reason for doing that. He planned to fuck her. As soon as he finished tormenting her, he’d give her some relief. Maybe, just maybe, if he did a good job of it, she’d forgive him and not gouge his eyes out.

“Now, then,” he said. “Back to the feather.”

He picked the damned thing up and rubbed it against her clit again. This time, her pussy had something hard inside it, and her muscles gripped the dildo. Oh, this was too good. She was going to climax. No way to fight it. Shit. Just one more flick. One more. Now!

“Brent!” she shouted. “Brent, Brent!”

He moved like lightning, first pulling the dildo from her pussy. In another few seconds, he’d released one of her hands, followed by the other just as quickly. She crumbled into a heap on the bed, and in a heartbeat, he covered her body with his own. She found the strength to part her legs, or maybe he did it. No matter. He plunged his cock into her and began to move.

Unbelievable. She could hardly breathe, but who gave a shit about breathing with the man inside her, around her, on top of her, giving her what she needed? She held onto him and let every thought zip out of her brain, replacing it with raw sensation. He was huge, hard, and she needed every inch. Her clit went into hyperdrive, each thrust butting against it. The orgasm started there and washed through her with the force of a tsunami.

She opened her mouth and screamed, her body convulsing. The spasms started and wouldn’t stop as she came and came. That spurred him on. Savage now, lost to everything but his own climax, he moved as if he’d nail her to the mattress. Then he was shouting, too, as he went rigid.

Oddly, the only thought that penetrated as he sagged against her was that she’d made him happy. Of course, she’d pleased herself pretty damned well, too. On those happy thoughts, she drifted off into a semiconscious state. The mattress beneath her registered, as did his heavy breathing against her neck. After a while, even her senses couldn’t manage that, and she fell asleep.

A
NGELA SEEMED PENSIVE
the next morning. In this job, Brent was more used to expressions of utter satisfaction. Droopy lids and bags under the eyes. Proof that he’d kept his client busy all night. Come to think of it, he was probably the one dragging. She had given him quite a workout.

But not Dr. Angela Carter. She took the cup of coffee he offered and stepped out onto the balcony. She’d cocooned herself in her bathrobe again. He stared at her back for a while and sighed. After all he’d done, had he failed?

To hell with that. He took his own coffee outside and walked up beside her. True to San Francisco, the air held a chill. He could turn on the heaters, but how much easier to simply run his free arm around her and pull her against him, her back to his front.

“Talk to me,” he said softly into her ear.

She trembled, no more than a tiny quiver. The movement of her body against his might have started his motor if he weren’t so completely exhausted. Besides, even a guy could see that right now she needed conversation, not sex.

“Nothing like that has ever happened to me before,” she said after a while.

“Orgasms?”

“Total loss of control,” she said. “I’ve always moved purposefully through life, knowing exactly where I was going.”

“Surrendering isn’t bad if you trust the other person.”

“I do trust you,” she said. “Imagine, making myself so vulnerable to someone I paid to have sex with me.”

“You paid Madeline, not me, and it was more than sex,” he said. “It always is, or I’m not doing my job.”

“You do your job very, very well.”

“So, professor, how do you feel about what happened between us?”

“Feel.” She leaned back against him and sighed deeply. “I feel satisfied. I feel alive. And I feel a little bit scared.”

“Scared?”

“I have to take what you taught me into the world outside these beautiful walls,” she said. “I have to find someone else I trust.”

“He’ll be a lucky guy.”

“Yeah.”

He took her coffee mug. She hadn’t taken a sip, and he’d lost interest in his own, to tell the truth. He stepped away long enough to set both mugs on the table then went back and took her in his arms, turning her around, so he could gaze down into her face. “And?”

“That really is a frightening proposition,” she said. “A real relationship. No walking away in the morning with a thank-you for a job well done.”

“You’re right.”

“Do you have someone like that?”

“Nope. Maybe someday.” He’d thought about becoming involved with a woman for real. Thought about it a lot. He’d be a fool to claim the prospect didn’t frighten him.