Fair Game (12 page)

Josie honestly didn’t know what to say. She liked Lydia, but they’d never been friends. Josie didn’t even talk about man stuff with Faith and Trinity. She wasn’t one of those women who got together with her female friends and gossiped about sex. Or men. Or anything. She wasn’t programmed that way, never had been. She’d learned very young that girls—and women—could be pretty judgmental and it was best to keep as much as possible to yourself if you didn’t want any backlash later.

So Josie simply scowled in her best mean-boss imitation, then mouthed, “Nothing fun.” The beads were . . . sexy. Not fun. At least, not yet, though they certainly had potential for later.

Lydia’s laugh followed her all the way to the restroom.

That was the really good thing about working in a building housing mostly men—the ladies’ room was empty.

“I cannot believe I’m doing this,” she muttered as she closed the stall door. Yet she touched herself the way he’d instructed, and God, she was wet. She caressed her pussy lips, then slowly slid the beads inside, one at a time, largest last, feeling each as it entered. By the time she was done, her clit was an aching nub. She touched herself, rubbed lightly, put her head back, eyes closed, and imagined Kyle’s tongue on her. She barely held the moan in check.

Never in her entire working life had she masturbated on the job. But, oh God, she’d been missing something. The fear that the ladies’ room door could open at any moment added another level of excitement.

When she stood, the little plastic circle at the end of the string dangled like a clit ring. She pulled up her panties.

When she moved, she felt the beads inside, tantalizing her. The ring itself, trapped within her thong, gave the slightest friction, just enough to keep her on edge.

She washed her hands, straightened her jacket, fixed a tiny smudge of makeup under her eye. She didn’t wear much, just something to lengthen her lashes and add color to her lids.

As she returned to her desk, she was the picture of professional. But inside, she was burning. Wet. Ready to jump him the moment she saw him. Such a new feeling, this physical ache, the tantalizing need to . . . fuck. Right now. At work.

Thank God Lydia wasn’t at her desk as Josie passed or the girl would have known something was up.

In her office, her cell phone beeped. A new message. As if he’d known exactly when she would receive his toy and that she would go to the restroom because he’d told her to.

“Since you never picked a meeting place, I chose it.” He rattled off an address in that melting hot voice of his. “Meet me at six thirty.” Nothing more, just as she’d done to him.

Despite what she’d told him on the phone the last time they spoke, a week ago, she purposely hadn’t chosen. She’d left it all up to him. If he wanted the challenge, he had to make the moves. That wasn’t the same thing as fobbing off responsibility for her actions.

God, she had so much work to do before she could leave. Taking her seat, her mind ran through all the tasks on her over-full plate. A frisson of pleasure shivered through her as the change in position thrust the ring against her clit and the beads shifted deliciously inside her.

Screw all the work she had piling up. She wouldn’t be one second late for her date.

 

 

 

FOLLOWING the Internet map she’d made, Josie was five minutes early. Yeah, she’d punched the accelerator on her little hybrid, screwing up her gas mileage, but her body was running on high octane.

Her map led her right to the parking lot of a luxury airport hotel in the heart of San Jose. The planes flew overhead with a deafening roar, shaking her tiny car. A hotel room. He’d take her all the way tonight, and God, her pussy needed it. The beads had worked her to the point of no return. Then again, he might have her meet him in the bar and tease her to death without giving her any relief. Or, he could have her pick up another man. A couple. Or a woman.

What if he picked up a woman and made Josie watch? God only knew what he had planned.

She wondered what her limits were. She hadn’t shown any before, but then her lovers were basically unimaginative. The more she pondered all the possibilities, the hotter she got.

Her cell rang.

“You’re late,” he said.

His voice trickled down her nerve endings. She glanced at her watch to find she’d been sitting in the car for six minutes. Good God. “I’m in the parking lot. You didn’t tell me where to meet you.”

He rattled off a room number, then
poof
, the connection vanished.

So. Definitely a room. He could still have someone else waiting for her. How did she feel about that? Excited. Nervous. Could she do it? Did she want to? That was the nature of a challenge, to keep the other party guessing, hold them right on the edge, scare them, tease them, thrill them.

She’d just never had anyone do that for her. She was always the doer, the planner.

Inside, thick walls and dual-paned glass masked the roar of jet engines. The lobby was sumptuous, with cushy chairs, sofas, and marble floors that flowed into lush carpeting. She waited in line at the elevators, but after the fifth floor, the elevator was empty all the way to the fourteenth. She leaned back against the wall, stretched, let the beads work their magic. God, she didn’t care what he was about to make her do, she just wanted a damn orgasm. If she gave herself one now, she’d be able to think, to fight back if she didn’t like his game. As it was, she’d do anything.

Yet Josie didn’t get herself off. Instead, she let the need build as she negotiated the corridors to his room.

It took him forever to answer her knock. When he bade her enter with a flourish of his hand, she was relieved to find the room empty.

She was his for the night.

It was your garden variety hotel room with bureau, desk, a couple of chairs like the ones in the lobby, and, of course, a bed. A very
big
bed high off the floor covered with a thick comforter, lots of small pillows, and a bolster that stretched the entire width of the mattress. The air was scented with something subtly floral.

Without saying a word, he sank into the chair he’d placed only a couple of feet from the end of the bed.

“Naked,” he said. “Now.”

She stripped too quickly. Giving him a seductive tease felt uncomfortable. She wasn’t a sexy, sultry babe who knew all the right moves. She worked in the dirt; she was one of the guys.

Yet his nostrils flared, and his eyelids fell to a hooded gaze as she stood bare before him.

“On the bed,” he ordered, pointing with his steepled fingers.

She did that, too, artlessly, scrambling on her hands and knees, then rolling to her back, her legs parted slightly.

He rose, leaned close, and flicked the ring of the beads. Though he didn’t touch her, she felt his heat, and the beads seemed to ripple through her pussy.

“Good girl,” he whispered. “Spread your legs wider.”

She did, his gaze on her making her feel . . . vulnerable.

Closer still, braced on one hand, he swooped in and breathed deeply. “You smell good.”

She could hardly breathe, his mouth so near he could lick her. If she raised her hips, her pussy would kiss his lips.

He backed off before her body could react on its own. “Touch yourself.”

She slid her fingers through her dampness.

He grabbed her wrist and sucked her finger. A guttural sound rose from his belly. “Wet,” he whispered. “I knew you would be. So fucking wet.”

She’d never had a man treat her with such sensuality, relishing scent, sight, taste.

He left the bed, went to his briefcase, and flicked open the lid. He withdrew something, but with his back to her, she couldn’t see. He turned, came close, and tossed the thing on her belly.

Rope.

Her skin heated, her pussy tightened, yet she felt a hitch of fear in the pit of her stomach.

He tapped her ankle. “Wider.”

She spread-eagled herself before him. Her blood rushed in her veins and pounded against her eardrums.

“Arms over your head.”

She’d never been tied down. She wasn’t against it in theory, but her whole body tensed as she stretched her hands up to the headboard, touching it with her fingertips. Somehow tying her down was worse than the thought of him loaning her to another man. She almost laughed, because that thought was ass-backwards for most people. And yet . . . she gulped in a breath, held it, swallowed, then exhaled long and hard.

Kyle tipped his head to one side. “Do you trust me?”

She didn’t know him well, so how could she trust him? In the bedroom, he was an unknown quantity. But logic said her client wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the job, least of all cause physical harm to his project manager.

Get a grip.
They were playing a game.

“The question is,” she said, “do you trust me when it’s my turn?” She was so damn pleased with how steady and natural her voice came out.

“Payback’s a bitch,” he whispered.

“Go for it,” she said in kind. She was
not
going to lose a challenge over a few skittish nerves.

He swiped the rope off her belly and uncoiled it, perusing it for a moment. Then he held up a finger. “Don’t move.” He disappeared into the bathroom.

“You are crazy,” she muttered to herself.

He returned with some washcloths crumpled in his hand. Tossing the bunch on the bed beside her, he selected one, then grabbed her foot and wrapped the terry cloth around her ankle.

“What are you doing?”

He glanced up, a smile dancing in his eyes. “Just making sure you don’t chafe your skin if you decide to struggle.”

She huffed out a breath. “I’m not going to struggle.”

He knotted the rope around the material. “Let me rephrase. When you’re orgasming so hard you shake and buck uncontrollably, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I don’t get
that
out of control.” At least, she hadn’t before.

“There’s always a first time.” He backed off, made a grab from his briefcase, and returned with a knife in his hand. A sharp knife. She felt her eyes widen. He looped the rope over the blade and sliced it cleanly.

Down on the carpet beside her, he secured the end to a bed leg. Yanking on the cord, he tested the tightness. “Okay?”

“It hurts.” Not too bad. She could handle it.

“Liar.” He kissed her big toe, then rose, trailing his hand across to her other ankle and tugging her legs wider. Stopping for a moment, he gazed directly at her exposed pussy. “Beautiful. But a picture is worth a thousand words.”

“You are not taking pictures of me like this.”

He wrapped her ankle. “I’m not?” His voice changed subtly, deepened, hardened.

“No, you are not.”

The rope knotted, he secured her to the bed. “You shouldn’t make demands when you’re all tied up.”

She flapped her hands at him. “I can just as easily untie them.”

He moved swiftly, crawling up her body, holding her down with his bulk and grabbing both of her hands. Before she could wriggle away, he had a washcloth around her wrists and the rope wound securely, binding her hands together.

“And how are you going to get yourself untied?” he asked, his eyes glittering, lips curved in a wicked smile.

Still holding her bound wrists, he rolled to the side, rose, and secured the end of the rope to the middle post of the headboard.

Fear thrummed through her. So did excitement. She was totally vulnerable. He could do anything he wanted. Give her to anyone. Take a photo and expose her on the Internet.

She shivered as if a breeze had blown across her body.

Yes, he could do anything. Or he could make her climax uncontrollably, over and over, as many times as he wanted. She was totally at his mercy.

“I don’t think I like being tied up,” she whispered.

“I know. That’s why I did it.” He went to his briefcase one last time. Once again by her side, he held something behind his back. “You’re going to like this even less.”

He laid a blindfold made of soft cloth across her eyes. It was everything she could do not to shake it off.

It wasn’t a matter of trust. It was a matter of the game. She’d tested him, forced him to wear women’s panties, and dammit, he’d won. She couldn’t let him make her beg.

But she had a hard time breathing.

She’d made herself this vulnerable to Ian, and he’d trounced her badly. The fact that it had been emotional trust versus physical didn’t matter. Kyle held all the cards. He could have her fired. He could ruin her. He could do
anything
to her. Or worse, he could do nothing at all, simply leave her there with no sexual relief.

He moved away and said, “I’ll be back later,”

Josie almost screamed.

When the door snicked closed, she yanked and pulled on the bonds, thrashed her head trying to dislodge the blindfold. Then she lay quiet a moment listening. Was he standing there watching? Laughing at her? Was he going to leave her alone with her own thoughts to drive her crazy all night? Alone to show her he didn’t want her, didn’t need her, that she wasn’t special and didn’t matter? Maybe he’d even find another woman to slake his appetite with, then return in the morning to tell her how much better the other slut was.

Drawing in a deep belly breath, she let it ease through her body, spreading out to her limbs. He was teasing. This was a game. He wouldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t humiliate her. She was allowing the inability to move and the darkness behind the blindfold to get to her. She was fine, it was okay.

If she remembered that, she would win his challenge.

 

 

 

HAD he gone too far by leaving the room? Kyle ordered two glasses of wine down in the bar.

He’d never tied a woman down before. He’d figured that Josie Tybrook would find it one of the hardest challenges to face. She wasn’t a woman who liked giving up control. She needed to win. She’d bring him to his knees if she could.