The Pleasures of Winter (21 page)

‘Don’t.’ The word was a command rather than a request. She felt like a rabbit in the headlights as his eyes raked her from head to foot.

She had no idea where her torn panties were, two buttons were missing from her silk blouse and her smart skirt was a mass of creases. And somehow she was still wearing her new heels, the ones Miffy had made her buy.

‘I like these,’ Jack said, his voice gravelly. ‘There’s something about a woman in heels. I think we’ll leave these on.’

His fingers moved slowly along her instep, until they encountered a snag where he had ripped her pantyhose. ‘These, however, have to go.’

Her skirt and blouse followed the shredded pantyhose on to the floor.

‘Now, this is pretty.’ Jack paused when he reached her lacy brassiere, brushing his index finger across her lace-covered nipples. Just that light touch sent a shot of pleasure through her. She moaned and arched up into his touch.

‘Does it make you feel sexy to wear something like this, Abbie?’

‘I –’ Oh god, her brain had turned to mush and if he didn’t stop touching her she was going to melt.

‘Answer me.’ His tone took on a sharp edge that sent a shiver down her spine.

‘Yes, it does.’

‘Good girl.’ His lips slowly circled one nipple and then he sucked hard on it.

The sensation was delicious – hovering on the edge between ecstasy and pain. Jack released her, unclipped the bra and tossed it with her other clothes.

‘You’re beautiful.’

She didn’t feel the least bit beautiful. She was naked, vulnerable, wearing nothing but a pair of dark-red Miu Miu shoes. Jack was still fully clothed. Her hand crept across her breast to cover herself.

Her action earned her a sharp tap on the hip from Jack. ‘Hands above your head, Abbie, and keep them there.’

The edge of danger in his tone made her comply. ‘What happened to your palms?’

‘I fell,’ she admitted. ‘I hurt my knees too.’

Jack kissed each palm. ‘I’ll kiss your other injuries later.’ Then his hand tilted her head back, his thumb stroked the edge of her jaw. ‘Look at me, Abbie.’

She blinked and swallowed hard under his intent gaze.

‘For tonight, you’re mine.’

Releasing her jaw, he trailed his hand over her chest, cupping her breast, taking a slow path over her abdomen before pausing to cup her mound. One broad finger pushed inside her and Abbie took a sharp breath.

A second finger joined the first and his thumb brushed against her clit.

Abbie arched against him, seeking more pressure. She was so sensitized to his touch from their earlier encounter, it wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge again.

‘Bad girl.’ Jack withdrew his fingers and pressed them
to his mouth. ‘Hot, sweet little Abbie, I can see that you’re going to need a lesson about who’s in charge here.’

Jack left Abbie and went to find her kitchen. He had almost laughed at her expression when he asked her where it was. Finally, he had Abbie where he wanted her and where he knew she wanted to be. They had the whole night and he was going to make her see fireworks. Before that, she had to eat.

As he moved around her kitchen, he thought that Abbie had surpassed his expectations in every way. If that’s what it was like the first time they made love, he could barely imagine what could happen between them. He had been astonished and even more aroused than he thought possible by the fragility of her skin – so pale and soft. It was an invitation for him to do his worst to her. And that luscious backside that had haunted his dreams for two weeks, he wanted to touch it more than he wanted his next breath. Those green eyes that flashed with desire. He wanted to see what else he could make those eyes do.

He had fought the dark impulses that wanted to strip her naked, tie her up and mark her as his. But her cry of ‘More, please’ was an aphrodisiac that would have aroused a statue of a saint, and god knew he was no saint. She had been so hot and wet, her softness contrasting with her strength as she pushed back to meet him, and when he felt her delicate inner muscles holding him like a fist, driving him over the edge, he had been lost in ecstasy. If that was vanilla sex with Abbie, he didn’t dare dream what would happen when they went darker.

After about fifteen minutes, he was ready. Two glasses of wine from a bottle in her empty fridge. And a plate of French toast for her.

When he got back to the bedroom she was sitting up, curious.

‘I seem to remember that I made you miss dinner,’ he said.

Abbie giggled. ‘I haven’t forgiven you for that yet. Do you know how hard it is to get a reservation for Mamma D’Inzeo on a Saturday night?’

‘I’ll make it up to you,’ he said. ‘But first, we need to have a discussion about your refrigerator.’

‘What’s wrong with my refrigerator?’

‘There isn’t enough food in it to keep a sparrow alive and I hate skinny women.’

‘You want to feed me?’

The thought seemed to make her giddy. ‘So, what delights have you conjured up?’

‘I thought that madame might like some French toast with maple syrup to keep her strength up.’

Abbie reached for the fork.

‘Ah ah, no touching the food. No hands. I want to feed you.’ He cut a piece and pressed it to her lips.

‘What’s that flavour?’ she mumbled, as she chewed.

That’s what he liked to see – a woman too busy eating to worry about manners.

‘Vanilla, for my vanilla girl,’ he said, grinning, and pressed another mouthful to her lips.

Abbie swallowed it quickly. ‘I am not vanilla.’

‘Aren’t you?’ he said.

They held each other’s gaze, both realizing the deal that was being negotiated.

Abbie spoke hesitantly. She seemed to be choosing her words carefully. ‘What if I wanted to try other flavours? What if I was willing to taste something else?’

Jack cut another mouthful of toast and fed it to her.

‘You don’t know what you’re asking. You don’t know what I’m like.’

Abbie refused the last mouthful of food and he popped it into his own mouth instead. She was blinking away tears.

‘What if I wanted to find out?’ she said. ‘What if I wanted to get to know the real Jack Winter, the one you’re so scared to show me?’

It was so tempting, to bring her into his world. It was what he had wanted since that day in the cave. And yet, now that she was offering herself, he hesitated. Did she really understand what she was letting herself in for?

Abbie reached for his hand and placed it on her naked breast. Her nipple hardened instantly beneath his touch. ‘What if I said that I wanted to play by your rules?’

Maybe she did understand, but he had to be sure. ‘I’m a lot darker than you can possibly imagine. This is not a game, it’s part of who I am.’

She sat up and reached for him, winding her arms around his neck, threading her fingers though his dark hair. She nipped at his bottom lip and he groaned. He wasn’t immune to her. Pulling his head down to her, she kissed his mouth roughly until they were both breathless. ‘I want you. Show me how you want me.’

‘Lie down, Abbie,’ he said, and then went to her closet
and riffled through it until he found what he was looking for. He returned to the bed with a handful of silk scarves.

‘Are you sure that you want this, Abbie? Because once we start, it will only finish when I say so.’

‘Yes, I’m sure.’

‘Good girl. I suggest you visit the bathroom now. You may be tied up for a while.’

Abbie fled.

The bathroom mirror confirmed her worst suspicions. Her hair was wild. Her mascara had melted and her lipstick had vanished. She had cuts on her knees and a bruise on her neck where he had nipped her. But she looked like a woman who had just had the most incredible lovemaking of her life.

She stared in disbelief at her reflection. That couldn’t be Abbie Marshall. She was naked in her bathroom, except for a pair of heels, and Jack Winter was in her bedroom, waiting to tie her up and do god-knew-what to her. A feeling of sick excitement invaded her stomach. She was going to do this. She would prove to Jack that she wasn’t vanilla. She swished some mouthwash around her mouth and spat it out.

She didn’t want to take too long. Jack was waiting for her.

The look in his eyes almost made her retreat back into the bathroom. It was so hungry, so filled with anticipation that she shivered. What had she let herself in for? But there was no going back. If she stopped now, she would never forgive herself.

He tied the first scarf around her eyes. It wasn’t pitch
black, but it was disorientating enough to make her sway. She shivered, conscious of her nakedness and his closeness. She could hear his breathing, feel the brush of his shirt against her sensitized skin.

‘Easy there.’ Jack pulled her against his chest. He was still fully clothed and the feel of his denim-clad legs against her bare thigh raised goosebumps along her back. ‘Lie down, Abbie.’

She moved a little awkwardly, finding her balance was off now that her eyes were covered. She lay obediently on the linen comforter. Jack took each wrist in turn and looped the silk around it before fixing it to the wooden headboard. He inserted his fingers under the loop, checking her circulation. Abbie heard the rattle of crockery as he carried the tray back to the kitchen. Then there was silence.

It was hard to tell how long he was gone, but time dragged, increasing her nervousness. Finally the bedroom door opened.

‘Oh, Ms Marshall, you are a sight for sore eyes.’ Jack’s Irish accent made her nipples peak. ‘I’m going to taste every inch of you.’

She felt his warm breath on her ankle. He wasn’t joking. With infinite slowness Jack kissed his way along the inside of her calf, pausing to pay homage to the tender spot at the inside of her knee before kissing the inside of her thigh.

‘Oh god,’ she groaned.

‘Did I give you permission to speak?’

‘No, I …’ Abbie felt a sharp tap against her thigh. ‘No, Sir.’

‘Good girl. But now that you’ve disturbed my concentration, I’m going to have to start all over again.’

The mattress shifted as he moved to the end of the bed and began the same torture on her other ankle. Soft kisses, gently sucking and licking her skin, followed by the occasional sharp nip that made her whimper.

She felt his mouth on her inner thigh again and Abbie fought the urge to squirm. Her breathing became ragged. Every inch of her body tingled. She desperately wanted to come. ‘Please.’

‘Poor Abbie.’ The vibration of his voice against her skin almost sent her over the edge. ‘Are you wet for me?’

Rising frustration almost made her suggest that he go find out himself. But she knew instinctively that he would take that as a challenge. ‘Yes.’ The word came out of her parched throat. ‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Good.’

She felt the mattress move again and then Jack was kneeling beside her, pressing chips of ice against her lips. Abbie felt his hand caress her forehead tenderly. She heard the crunch of ice again and opened her mouth.

Instead of a chip against her lips, his ice-filled mouth fastened on her nipple. The cold grip hit her like a vice and she arched her back and screamed. His warm hand cupped her other breast, tweaking her nipple between his fingers. Abbie struggled against the sensory overload and received a sharp nip for her efforts. She felt the melting ice and water run between her breasts and Jack’s tongue lapping at every drop.

‘You have such sensitive breasts. I think I’ll have to buy you some nipple clamps. Would you like that, mmm?
Imagine the sensation of blood rushing back to your nipples when I remove them.’

Abbie couldn’t help it. She groaned again. His mouth continued its torturous path along her abdomen, pausing to blow a puff of ice-cold air on her shaven mound. She arched her hips, wanting his mouth there.

‘Responsive little thing, aren’t you? Let’s see what else you like.’

Abbie tensed when she felt him getting off the bed. What was he going to do this time? More ice?

The feel of his warm hand between her legs almost lifted her off the bed. She arched against his touch, groaning with relief when she felt his finger slide into her. ‘Oh god, please. Please, Jack. Please, Sir’

She was almost incoherent now. He rewarded her with a slow pump of his finger. Just enough to madden her, but not enough to take her over the edge. ‘Bastard.’ The word escaped from between her lips and she heard a low laugh and the sting of a sharp slap against her thigh.

‘You have no idea, Abbie. I haven’t even begun.’

At the first brush of the feather against her skin, Abbie squirmed against her bonds. ‘No, don’t do that. Please, I’m really ticklish.’

Jack straddled her hips and his weight pressed her against the bed. ‘You really shouldn’t have told me that.’

Pleasure and pain. The gentle brush of the feather and the sharp pain of its quill as he used it to draw slow circles around her nipples, and lines on her breast and along her abdomen. Her nerve endings didn’t know how to respond, sending her brain confused messages so that she had no idea if she hated or loved it. Her cries of pain alternated
with moans of pleasure. Her world closed down to Jack and his hands. She had no sense of time.

‘My sweet Abbie. I think you deserve a reward.’

She couldn’t reply. He had become her world, the light at the end of the tunnel. Every brush of pleasure or pain was within his control, she could do nothing but tremble and wait to see which he would give her. It was like floating.

A jolt of pleasure shot through her when she heard the rasp of a zipper and she squirmed, rubbing her damp thighs together. The bed creaked as it took his weight, and then they were skin to skin. The glorious muscular length of him stretched against her.

‘Jack.’ Her voice was hoarse from crying out.

‘I’m here, baby.’

His mouth crushed hers without warning. There was no tenderness, only dark, inexorable need. She felt his hand in her hair, angling her head so that he could take her mouth as roughly as he pleased. Hot kisses rained down her neck and breasts, making her arch against him in need, but this time there was no teasing.

At the first pass of his tongue between her legs she cried out. He lapped at her as if he wanted to devour her, with hot, slow swirls of his tongue that never quite touched her aching clit.