Darker (15 page)

“Doesn’t Mrs Richardson handle all that?”

“Mostly, yes. But she’s an employee so she has time off. Or holidays. So I need to be able to cook, plait hair, dress dollies, read bedtime stories. Would you like me to plait your hair, Miss Byrne?”

I stare at him dumbly, getting my head around this unnerving picture of domestic capability.

“A bedtime story, perhaps?” His head is tilted quizzically, a teasing smile quirking his lips. “No? Well, eat up then, while it’s hot.” He picks up his knife and fork and gestures to mine. I pick up the tools and start eating.

It’s absolutely fabulous. Juicy steak falling apart under the sharp knife, crispy chunky chips, soft and fluffy on the inside, and the salad crunchy and sweet. I munch the first few mouthfuls in silence, savouring one of the best meals I have ever had. After a few more bites I feel I really must comment.

“God this is wonderful. Where did you learn to cook? And when did you do the shopping for all this?”

“I like to cook. I’ve always been able to rustle up a meal. Maybe it’s a bit like you and learning languages, sort of a knack.”

I can relate to that. I nod and carry on stuffing my face.

“As for the shopping, I keep steaks in the freezer, and plenty of good red wine to hand. I phoned down to Tesco Express while you were fussing with your extensive wardrobe for this evening and got one of the assistants down there to run up here with a bag of salad and some spuds. Simple.”

I make sure my ‘extensive wardrobe’ is safely tucked behind my serviette—don’t want to dangle in the steak juices—and return to the matter under discussion. “They do deliveries? Tesco Express?”

“Of course, if you ask nicely and tip them well. More wine, Miss Byrne?”

“Yes, please.” Amazing. From then on I devote myself to the meal, giving it my undivided attention until a few minutes later my plate is clean. I lean back, dabbing my lips as daintily as I can with my serviette. Nathan stands, picks up my empty plate and cutlery as well as his own and takes them to the sink and drops them in. “Can I interest you in a little dessert, Miss Byrne?”

“Mmm, yes, I expect so. What do you have?”

“You’ll have to guess, Miss Byrne. But I should tell you, even though I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, desserts are a speciality of mine.” Then he’s behind me, his hands at my neck, loosening my tie. He removes it and quickly repositions it across my eyes, before tying it behind my head.

“Comfortable?”

I nod, expectantly, my hands in my lap.

“Good. Put your hands behind you, please, I’m going to tie you up.”

“What? Why? I’m up for this, whatever it is. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Your hands, Miss Byrne.” His voice has taken that familiar, hard edge. The tone I have come to love, and fear a little. But mostly love. I drop my hands to my sides and he takes my wrists in each of his hands, pulling them behind my back where he quickly ties them together. Leaning past me he takes the serviette from my lap and I feel my chair turn as he pulls me away from the table. I hear the slight scrape of him moving another chair, I assume to seat himself directly in front of me. Tentatively I reach out with my foot, and sure enough, I find the soft denim of his jeans about a foot away from me.

“Wondering where I am, Miss Byrne? Don’t worry, I’m right here.” He takes my face between his hands and tilts it upwards, placing his lips over mine. The kiss is soft at first, gentle, tentative, then he slants his head to deepen it, sliding his tongue deep into my mouth. I open my lips for him, inviting him in, tangling my tongue with his, letting him suck my tongue into his mouth and nip it gently between his teeth. His hands are firm, holding my face in place, allowing me no choice but to let him have my mouth. He continues to kiss me, deeply, intensely, his fingers tunnelling under the blindfold to tangle in my hair, forcing my head back. I feel the familiar tug of sensual awareness building as he ignites my senses, relentlessly driving my arousal, building that knot of greedy lust I have become accustomed to now.

Then suddenly he lifts his head, releases me, and he is gone. I gasp, moan in disappointment, frustration, wildly waving my head from side to side, blindly seeking him through the blackness of the silk covering my eyes.

He is silent. The room is silent. No clues. I could be alone, but I know better. I can sense him, somewhere near, and the not knowing scares me. My naked, helpless vulnerability scares me. The seconds tick by, then the minutes. I can’t bear it.

“Where are you? Nathan, please…” I can hear the catch in my voice, the slight waver that lets him know he has me, that I’m unravelling. Still he is silent. More minutes tick by. Has he left me? Surely he can’t have…

“Open your mouth, Miss Byrne.”

The voice comes from right in front of me, and I jump to attention. He must be able to hear my heart pounding. Certainly I can. As if he can hear my thoughts he places his hand, warm and soft, at my left breast, flattened to feel my heart thumping under my skin.

“You seem nervous, Miss Byrne. That’s good. Now, do as you’re told. Open your mouth.”

I do, and am rewarded with the delicious sensation of a creamy, sweet mousse dropped onto my tongue. The flavour is fruity and tart, the consistency fluffy. I savour the light, crisp taste, then swallow it, licking my lips.

“More, Miss Byrne?”

“Mmm, yes, please. What is it?”

“Mrs Richardson’s special strawberry mousse. A particular favourite of mine. And yours too, perhaps? Open wide…”

I open my mouth to receive another delicious spoonful of Mrs Richardson’s culinary masterpiece, and sigh as the delicious concoction slides down my throat. Christ, that woman knows her way around a pudding bowl. Wonderful. Bliss on a stick, or should that be a spoon?

“More?” I nod, and open my mouth. Nathan obligingly delivers another mouthwatering spoonful.

“Mind if I have some?” His voice is soft, as he whispers against my ear. In my delight at the heavenly taste dancing across my tongue I hadn’t realised he was so close, but I can feel his breath against my neck, and now his fingertips are fluttering down, across my shoulder to my right breast. Lightly, gently, he feathers his fingers across my nipple, then circles more firmly as the little bud hardens and grows under his touch. My breath catches now, my attention snapping back to the sensuality of his caress and the intimacy of this moment. “May I share, Miss Byrne?”

What? Share what? Ah, right, the pudding.
“Of course. Yes. But leave some more for me, please.” I’m feeling generous but not stupid.

“So kind. But I don’t want to lick mine from a spoon. I want to lick it from you. From your nipples. Is that okay, Miss Byrne?”

Christ! Fuck!
“Yes.”

Yes, please!

He gives a throaty chuckle at my undisguised enthusiasm. A moment later I wince slightly as the chill of the mousse makes contact with my erect nipples, first one, then the other as Nathan carefully, lovingly applies his helping of the dessert to them. The sensation is exquisite, the cool of the dessert and the warmth of his gentle fingertips. Then I gasp and throw back my head as he takes my right nipple into his warm, wet mouth and sucks. Hard. His tongue swirls around, lapping away the sticky mousse. I groan with pleasure as the sensation spikes, sending a bolt of lightning straight to my groin. I feel the wetness between my legs and I shift in the chair, subconsciously trying to create the friction where I need it. Want it.

Nathan lifts his head from my nipple, just gently flicking it with his tongue. “Be patient, Miss Byrne. Keep still. I’ll deal with that in a minute.” And by way of making me wait he takes my left nipple into his mouth, holding it lightly between his teeth as he licks the mousse off. The sensation, and the anticipation of what is to come—
please, God!
—is overwhelming. I am writhing in my chair, nearly mindless with desire and desperate for some serious attention between my legs. At last Nathan relents, and effortlessly picks me up from my chair and deposits me on the table. He slides me along the surface until my shoulders are flat on the table top, my hands still bound underneath me, my legs bent and my heels on the edge of the polished wooden surface.

“Open wide, Miss Byrne.” I don’t need telling twice and I don’t even pretend not to get his meaning. I spread my thighs for him and scream with pleasure as he smears a generous serving of strawberry mousse all over my clitoris, and the lips of my vagina. Pushing my knee upwards with one hand he raises me slightly so he can even spread the stuff around my anus. I forget to breathe. With no further ado, using both hands now to cup my bottom he lifts me, legs spread wide, and takes a long, slow lick from my anus right up around my vagina and across my clitoris. I scream again, to be rewarded by sweet, intense little nibbles around my clitoris.

My climax punches forward. I am beyond coherent thought, thrusting under his mouth, greedy and grasping for the delight he is offering me. He holds me still, steady, as he continues to lick every part of me and I unravel in his hands. The orgasm starts right there and seems to go on for hours. I hear myself gasping, then screaming again as the sensation spikes and grips me, as he draws every last shiver of sensation from me. Eventually I’m spent and he lowers me back to the table top, allowing me to lie still, my legs still spread wide, and I’m purring with delight.

Thinking it’s all over I start to stretch, only to be picked up again, still bound and blindfolded, and carried across the room. I think we’re headed back to bed, but no. He kneels down with me in his arms and places me on the floor. I feel a deep, fluffy rug under me and realise we must be in front of the tinted picture window. Before I can mutter anything along the lines of ‘Peeping Toms’ and ‘draw the curtains’ Nathan pushes me around onto my knees.

“Time for seconds. Turn over, please.” He sees that I’m struggling to shift, my arms still tied and the blindfold confusing me, so he gently helps me into place. “Lean forward. Put your face into the rug. And open your legs. Wide.”

All thoughts of decency and privacy dissipate as he pushes my shoulders forward and I find myself assuming the position. This time he spreads the mousse generously around my bum, letting his fingertip slip inside to tease me and make sure I’m paying attention. I am. Definitely. He slides his fingers between the lips of my vagina to spread the mousse there too, and gently finishes the trail at my clitoris.

“You are one seriously lovely woman, Miss Byrne.” His voice is thick with his own desire, seductive, breathy. I feel a zing of pleasure that he seems to want me as much as I want him, if that’s possible. His tongue and lips are gentler now, swirling around my anus to remove every last smear before working forwards around my vagina. His tongue dips inside and I gasp, thrusting back against him to deepen the contact. Sensitive as ever Nathan takes the hint, and obligingly tongue-fucks me until I start to come again. Then, before I can get too carried away, he slips his tongue back to my anus, at the same time taking my quivering clit between his finger and thumb. He rubs, licks, and I come apart.

Even before I stop convulsing he is inside me, his thick, hard penis stretching me impossibly. The sensation of fullness is incredible, wonderful, overwhelming. I cry out with the sheer joy and intensity of it. I feel his fingers deftly unfastening the knots at my wrists and my hands are free. He slips the blindfold up and away, and I blink at the sudden light. One hand on the rug to take his weight and the other caressing my breasts, my hips, my bottom, he leans over me. He is sliding in and out, slowly, deeply, achingly gentle. I stretch my arms out, clutching the deep pile rug in front of me, and circle my hips against him. This feels so good, so damn good.

“Do you like it like this, Angel? Long and slow and easy?” His voice is a soft, seductive whisper, a breath against my ear.

I answer him, “Yes, oh God, yes. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

“I aim to please you, Angel. Enjoy.” He nudges my hair aside to nip my earlobe, easing back almost to the point of slipping out of me. He hovers there at my entrance, waiting for me to whimper my need before sliding back in, right to the hilt. He angles his penetration to hit just that spot, deep inside me where he knows the nerve endings bunch, and I stiffen as the warm waves of delicious pleasure wash over me, and through me. Even when I would have started to thrust back against him to force the pace, he holds me, gentle and firm, drawing out the pleasure. He uses his fingers, strumming them continuously across my clit, tickling and teasing and heightening every sensation, but not enough to send me over the brink. Not yet. His gentle, slow strokes build slowly. Too slowly, nudging me towards orgasm again. I am gasping, my breathing heavy, desperate for more. For more, what?

At last I can bear it no longer. “Please, oh God, Nathan, please. I need… I need…”

“This? Is this what you need, Angel?” He strokes my clit more firmly and I arch my back, quivering as he stills to rub my most sensitive spot before withdrawing and plunging back into me, deep and hard. I scream and convulse around him, gyrating my hips to wring every last greedy scrape of friction from his cock as my orgasm ripples through me. With a muffled, “Fuck, ah, my sweet Angel”, he thrusts, hard and sharp, and his own climax is here. I feel the hot spurt inside me as his hands grip my hips, holding me in place for his final deep and none too gentle penetration. It feels fabulous as we come together, spiralling away over the edge.

Afterwards we are both lying on the rug, on our sides, my back snuggled against his chest, his arm around me and my bum tucked up against his groin. I can still feel his cock against my buttocks, still semi-hard as his breathing, and mine, returns to normal. We are silent, each of us savouring the moment, enjoying the satiated aftermath of shit-hot sex. Well, it seemed shit-hot to me.

“Nathan?”

“Mmm, what?”

“That was good. That was so good.”

“Yes, I thought so too. And like I said, we aim to please, to provide full and complete satisfaction. I’m so glad you approve of my efforts.” He pulls me closer, kissing my hair.