Provocative Professions Collection (28 page)

My fingers instantly obey, moving fast and greedy, finding hot, wet neediness.

Elliott: Tell me.

I, well, I wipe my hand on the blanket so I can type.

Me: I'm so wet, swollen and ready.

Elliott: Is that my sweet pussy?

It was for one night, and isn't anyone else's, except my own. And with the mood, the exotic game…

Me: Yes.

Elliott: Pull off your blanket, exposed and unrestrained, damn the rules and the shy screaming voices in your head, Amelia.

I debate this, a tad out of my comfort zone. He won't know if I say I did, but don't.

Elliott: Do it.

Like he's right there controlling my hands, I pitch the blanket to the side and let my knees fall open. I shove my hand, unabashed, under the lace, seeking my arousal. There's nothing that could keep me from it now, in a mind space of inflamed wantonness, I shove two fingers high inside me and brutalize my clit with my thumb, undulating my hips up, around, and down as I breathlessly chant his name.

At some point my pants are kicked free, leaving me in only my panties. I don't have a care in the world other than my impending release.

The sound of my phone clashes with only the sounds of nighttime and my reactions, but I ignore it, so close, servant to erotic exhibitionism. I explode, a spiky tingle starting in my pelvis, burning its way down and out, over my fingers, across my hand as I toss my head side to side, my shriek a loud, salacious escape.

In whimpering gasps, I steadily retreat back from animal on fire to Amelia, rapidly blinking to reacquaint myself with my outdoor surroundings. Alarmed at how little regard I had for propriety in the throes of orgasm, I snatch the blanket, hauling it up over my body, not stopping till my head is fully covered beneath it. With the mystic fog gone, reality crashes back, complete with phone alert. I sneak out a hand, pulling it under the covers with me.

Elliott: Did you come hard for me, Beauty?

Me: Yes.

Elliott: Go inside now. I don't like you outside alone at night. Sweet Dreams. -Yours.

Chapter 14

Elliott: I can't wait another minute to touch you, taste you, to indulge in the body that belongs to me. Rest tonight, it's been a long week, but tomorrow night—you're mine.

That's the message he sends as I walk through my door Friday after work. I
am
tired, from the long day and the full-body pleasure he's directed me through the last two nights, but a slight streak of disappointment still flashes through me, tomorrow seeming forever away.

I know it's insane, and he's
far
from my boyfriend—I've yet to see his whole face—but we talk all day about so many things. I laugh aloud in between the smiles and deep thoughts our conversations provoke. He's weirdly starting to feel like the person I'd spend my weekends with.

One more night and we meet
finally
. Without masks. Without pretending. The thrill at just the thought of it gives me enough patience to endure the wait.

I take a long shower and make sure my body's ready for him, primped bare and smooth, then fall into bed with his latest gift,
The Tropic of Cancer
, which found its way to my desk on Thursday afternoon, wrapped discreetly, accompanied with a note—"credited by the NYT as the book responsible for the free speech we now take for granted in literature."

The more I read of the work, the more I understand its place in his thesis. The sexual details are graphic, but thus far, all of age and consensual. Prostitutes, pimps and "free love" still exist today, Miller just dared to write about it first. I'm beginning to see certain things in a new light, actually feeling my mind opening.

Have you heard some of the rap songs lately? At least these books have more words with greater than four letters than not.

Me: Should I expect
Tropic of Capricorn
next?

Elliott: If you'd like, but it isn't referenced in my paper. Once you've notated
Cancer
, the other seems lackluster, the point of his influence already made.

Me: What are you doing?

Elliott: Planning.

Me: For?

Elliott: Tomorrow night. I'll send your instructions. Do you trust me to do what I say, exactly?

Me: Do I have your word I'll be safe at all times?

Elliott: Positively.

Me: Then yes.

Elliott: Rest now, Beauty. Until then, sweet dreams.

I've been edgy all morning, well into the afternoon, anxious and deliriously curious. My apartment has never been cleaner—the Pope could eat off my floor.

I straightened my mocha hair so it lays down my back, shiny and fragrant, my blue eyes wildly bright with expectation as I check the clock what must be twenty times.

Nearing six pm, I dress in a short, form-fitting black dress, all delicate pink lace underneath, and four-inch heels.

Which was a complete waste of time.

Elliott: No bra, no panties, a dress. No lipstick. No hosiery, bare legs. Nothing in my way, blocking what's mine besides the dress.

All helpful information—
an hour ago!
But floating in a dream-like trance, I re-dress as he's instructed. With every step I take, my unrestrained breasts bounce and sway, a gush of cool air wafting up to entice my uncovered pussy. I feel bravely extravagant, more so than if I was draped in Dior and diamonds.

Elliott: A car will arrive to pick you up at exactly 7:30. Make the driver say "Beauty," then you'll know you can accept the ride. Bring nothing but your phone, key, and driver's license. A small handbag is fine. Can't wait to receive you, my precious gift.

Anxious flurries spike up through my limbs as I look down from my window, stroking Lucy as she paces along the sill until a sleek, black car pulls up right on time.

"Wish me luck, Lucy." I inhale a final breath of courage and head out.

"Good evening, Ms. Hill," the driver greets me from his perch beside the open back door.

I wait to hear him call me Beauty, which he doesn't. I replay Elliott's command, blushing. Am I really going to have to ask?

"Thank you. Is there something else you need to tell me?" I ask boldly, brow raised.

All business, the driver holds my gaze and replies, "Yes, that this evening is a beauty."

There it is.
My nerves ease at the word and I smile, a wild thrill once again ignited. Like a carnival, I'm strapped in, waiting for the ride to begin. I'm really doing this, hanging on for what I know will be an
unforgettable
plunge.

"It is indeed," I say softy and slip in upon the plush leather seat.

In front of me sits a bucket with champagne chilling, one flute perched beside a note card.

Have one, you're nervous.

A giggle erupts at how well he knows me and anticipates my needs. Without the slightest hesitation, I help myself to a drink, the bubbles tickling my nose.

Fluffing my hair, unable to fully relax during the drive, I'm pleasantly caught off guard when I hear my phone trilling from my bag. Grinning like a silly teenage girl on her way to prom—except I wore a bra and panties to that—I pull it out.

Elliott: Is the car acceptable for my Beauty?

Me: Yes sir.

Elliott: You're being driven to a club, Amelia. Not the kind in your books, no yearly memberships and naked women on their knees. Simply an establishment owned by a friend where certain favors are granted me. Understand?

Me: Then why mention it?

My brow furrows, tension building at the ominous warning of, according to him, nothing worthy of a warning.

Elliott: You'll see.

The car comes to a stop a few minutes later and I hear the driver exit, then my door opens. I slide to the edge, attempting to exit as decently as possible, but with the combination of no panties a dress, it's not an easy feat.

I manage well enough and am lead through what appears to be a back door. Creepy much?

No, no, this isn't working for me; the dark hallway and the vibration of loud, pulsing music under my feet are enough to make me shiver. I swallow, harsh and painful, my throat suddenly bone dry, ready to turn and run when my phone sounds.

Elliott: Come to me, Amelia. Keep going forward, two doors up on your left.

Okay, he sees me—as always—and swore no harm would come to me, right? I will my legs to move and turn the knob on the door he'd designated. Stepping cautiously inside, the room blanketed in black, the only light a muted glow courtesy of a few candles spread around the space.

A hand to my back causes me to jump and gasp, pushing me slightly forward, the lock on the door sounding behind me.

"Do not turn around," he orders in a commanding growl. With no warning, my eyes are abruptly covered by a silky piece of fabric that he ties securely from behind. "Too tight?"

I answer no with a shake of my head, stiffening when his lips press a modest kiss on my temple.

"That's my girl."

The praise elates me, something I'd be ashamed of if it weren't for the ravenous, sporadic flutters in my stomach. He runs his large, warm hands from my shoulders down my arms to grip my own, moving them behind my back.

"I want to tie these," he groans against my neck, his breath warm and minty.

"No!" I croak. "I'm…I'm n-not ready for that."

"Shhh." He massages back up my arms. "Okay, we'll go slow."

With my hands still free and hanging at my sides, he begins to lower the straps of my dress, letting it fall to my waist.

"No bra. Good girl," he murmurs his approval, reaching around, barely brushing his knuckles across my erect nipples. "Step out of your heels."

Easiest part yet; I'm eager to comply.

"Now this." He helps slip my dress down over my hips, where it pools at my feet.

And just like that, I'm standing in a sparsely lit room, blindfolded and completely naked, with a man I believe I
know
but have never met pressing himself against me.

"Even more flawless than I imagined, Amelia." He presses kisses along my spine and across my shoulders, eliciting goosebumps to flare over my skin. "Follow me."

He steps around me and grasps one of my hands, blindly leading me further into the room. He places my palms flat on a slick, wooden surface, the edge of which I feel rough against my abdomen. A desk.

"I want to bind your hands, Beauty. Complete control."

Again I feel fabric delicately brush against my wrists as he draws them together and begins to bind them. My heart races, pulse throbbing in my ears. I'm really doing this. Here, alone, in the back of some club where no one but a mystery driver knows to find me.

"Stop!" I yell out, knees threatening to buckle from under me.

Chapter 15

My breath spurts out in sharp, trembling gasps.

I want this,
him
, so badly, but how do I completely surrender my ability to see, or punch, or anything…having never experienced the sincerity in his eyes?

I test him is how, which I just did. My shrill scream, demanding he stop, still echoes around us.

He pauses, halting immediately, going still and backing away. "Stop because of your mind or your body?" His question is gruff, agitated.

"I-I had to make sure you'd listen," I murmur through an assertive sigh, defenses deflating. "I'm okay now, you can bind them."

I lift my hands out in offering. I feel him move closer again, his rigid erection snug against my ass as he leans over me, his massive torso lowering until it touches every inch of my bare body.

"If you say stop again," he huffs in my ear, nipping at its lobe, "I most certainly will, but this night will end. Understood?"

I nod, unable to help the loud gulp. He's proven he'll heed my refusal, now I'm all in, open physically and mentally for this secluded, exotic rendezvous.

He ties my wrists together snuggly but not painfully so, then raises my arms, stretching them above my head as he gently turns me around, picking me up to sit more comfortably on the desk. Maneuvering my shackled hands to lift over and around his neck, he finds my mouth, kissing me with an indescribable fervor that rivals my own.

This meeting of our mouths is different than the last—his baser, mine bolder—a testament to our shared knowledge that
this
night is going further.

His head dips to my chest, a stream of hot breath tickling my nipples. "I think I made you a promise," he says, seconds before his searing mouth covers my breast, creating the perfect suction, swirling and flicking the hardened nipple with his tongue.

When he switches to ravish the other, his hands travel down my sides, finding the inside of my thighs. He spreads my legs wide apart and pulls my ass to the very edge of the desk until I fear falling off, all the while lavishing attention on my chest.

My moans can't be silenced, my head falling back as a continuous purr vibrates out of me. "Elliott, more," I mewl.

"Well, that's far from stop." He chuckles lightly then attacks my mouth again, biting my bottom lip when he pulls back, kissing his way down my torso until he's no longer a delicious mass in front of me but on his knees. I know this because my arms, still around his neck, lower until I'm completely bent at the waist.