Undone (20 page)

‘Jesus Christ.’ I recoiled from his embrace, trying to thrust him away, hampered by having raised, cuffed arms.

‘Hey, but my brain can.’ His voice carried a resentful note. ‘And that’s what I think with, Lana. Stiff dick doesn’t mean I don’t care. Doesn’t short-circuit my critical faculties.’

I pushed again with my arched torso and shoved at his shin with one foot. ‘Go away. Leave me alone. And get these cuffs off me.’

‘Which one? Back off or unlock the cuffs?’

‘Back off! I don’t trust you.’

‘Holy fuck, give me a break, Cha Cha!’ He stepped away, palms raised in a gesture of peace. The paint fleck had gone from his cheek. ‘Look, sorry I scared you. But don’t try and claim this was about me getting my rocks off.’

I was jittery and hot. Sweat trickled down my back. ‘I just don’t want you near me right now, OK?’

‘Because what? I’m a monster, a pervert? Hell, Lana, get some perspective.’

‘You just scared me half to death,’ I yelled, tugging at my tethered wrists. ‘So, yes, my perspective is probably shot! How about we factor that in and make this about
my
pain, not yours. Jeez, cut me some slack, Sol!’

He withdrew his cigarettes, cool as can be. ‘Ah, the guilt trip.’

‘What?’

He didn’t reply, lighting a cigarette instead. The flame cast a reflection on his profile and glowed in the tips of his messy, dark fringe. He inhaled, stepping back and turning aside, purposefully ignoring my presence. Smoke drifted from the cigarette in a thin, blue-grey stream.

‘Why did you do it, Sol?’ I called. ‘To punish me?’

He released smoke as he turned to address me, frowning. ‘What?’ he asked in a quiet, baffled tone.

‘For talking to that guy? You wanted to scare me to get revenge?’

He made a noise of exasperation, half twisting away again. He pulled on his cigarette, exhaling before answering. ‘I get it,’ he barked. ‘I screw up, make one tiny mistake, and you start laying into me.’ He swung around, poking the air with his cigarette, emphasising his point with an angry gesture. ‘Listen, sweetness, I’m done with those kinds of relationships. If you think—’

‘No!’ I pitched forwards, furious and frustrated. ‘Don’t go projecting your baggage on to me.’

‘
My
baggage?’ He gave a hollow laugh. ‘Mine? So what in hell’s name was that about? Kicking off when I’m just fooling around with a bit of glass? What’s your story, huh? What’s your excuse, Lana?’

‘Oh, that’s rich!’ I said. ‘So now you attacking me is
my
fault?’

‘I didn’t attack— Oh, man, this is insane! In-fuckingsane.’ He stalked away, sucking hard on his cigarette, his back to me.

‘Unfasten me,’ I demanded. ‘Get me out of these cuffs.’

He whirled around. ‘You mean it this time?’

‘Yes!’

He threw his half-smoked cigarette to the ground. ‘Happy to oblige. Your freedom is my freedom, Cha Cha.’

He fished around in his pocket, withdrew the key, and then reached above my head to release the cuffs. I stepped away from the wall, rubbing my raw, grazed wrists while he untied the belt from the railings. I pulled my jacket over my breasts and turned to address him, chin jutting in defiance.

‘And the collar.’

He gazed at me, stuffing the cuffs and belt into a pocket. His eyes were wet black pebbles in the depths of shadows, his frown dragging his brows together. He glanced at the collar and back to my face, his expression softening. ‘Lana…’

I shook my head, lips tight. ‘Remove it, Sol. You don’t have my submission anymore. I’m not yours.’

‘Lana, please.’ He reached out a hand to me. ‘Why are we doing this?’

I stared at him, confused, and didn’t take his hand. ‘Why are we fighting?’ he continued.

‘Because you’re a prick?’

His lips twitched with a hint of amusement. ‘Apart from that?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said, folding my arms. ‘Enlighten me. Why
are
we fighting?’

‘Because we’re starting to care about each other?’ he suggested. ‘And we’re too afraid to admit it?’

I recalled sitting with him on the balcony of The Blue Bar, trying to make tentative enquiries about his feelings, and being curtly rebuffed.
I don’t want to fall in love, Lana
, he’d said.

‘No,’ I replied. ‘It’s definitely because you’re a prick.’

He laughed. ‘OK, you win. You still want me to take the collar off?’

‘Yes.’

He stepped closer, so his body was only an inch or two from mine. I stood my ground, proudly raising my chin and wishing I could kiss his stupid, smoky, sexy lips. He took the barrel of the combination lock in both hands, his arms jutting like wings either side of me. A lazy shiver of pleasure rolled down my spine.

‘You sure this is what you want, Cha Cha?’

‘Yes.’

His lips moved towards mine and my skirt hissed as his feet edged closer. I was stock still. Stones grated under his boot soles. Other than the purr of distant cars, the night was quiet. I fancied I might be able to hear waves breaking on the shingle beach if I listened hard enough. The ratchets of the first number clicked faintly as Sol’s fingers twisted the wheel. Overhead, a lone seagull wailed, its cry fading as it passed. I put my arms by my side.

Sol’s breath warmed my cheek. The voice in my ear was deep, languorous and seductive. ‘Eight,’ he whispered.

Desire sunk to my groin and pulsed there. I swallowed nervously. That single word was so rich and sexy. Sol’s slow articulation made the innocent number sound like a delicious warning. My mind returned to our first encounter, when he’d ordered Misha to lick me while he’d counted down to my climax. That seemed so long ago now. I pushed the thought aside. I didn’t want to dwell on the past.

His fingers edged along the barrel. His lips brushed my cheek in a half-kiss. His hips swayed towards me and his crotch bumped lightly against my belly, a fleeting touch but enough to indicate he was still hard.

The second metal wheel clicked below my chin. Tiny vibrations rippled in the hollow of my throat as his fingers moved.

‘Five,’ he breathed.

The word slid into my consciousness like an enchantment, tempting me towards blissful oblivion. I felt as if he were relaying a heavily guarded secret which would put me in mortal danger. His manner, intimidating and indolent, made me dizzy with longing. He was teasing and testing, refusing to unlock the collar in a manner that might imply deference to my demand.

In the aftermath of my crazy screaming fit, I was suddenly tired. His fingers worked on the third wheel. My sluggish brain churned, processing the implications of him revealing the next number. If he told me the third digit, the fourth, final number could be only one of ten options. I would practically have the combination, rendering the collar as good as useless. The key to my freedom would no longer be safe in Sol’s brain, nestled among unknown dark thoughts. I would share the number. I’d be able to remove the collar as and when I wished. It would become a meaningless ornament, a piece of jewellery and no more.

His fingers slowed, his lips moved towards my ear. He was about to give me the third number, to hand over his symbolic power, but I couldn’t let him.

‘No!’ I gasped. ‘Stop! Don’t tell me.’

He paused but didn’t retreat. His warm lips fluttered silently against my ear; then he leaned his body closer, cock still erect. ‘No?’

‘Stop,’ I breathed. ‘I don’t want to know.’

His voice was low and amused. ‘You don’t?’

‘No, please.’

‘Why not, Cha Cha?’

I pressed my lips together, embarrassed that I was asking for this; that I was having to admit my hunger to submit was stronger than any need to win a fight.

‘It’s yours,’ I whispered. ‘You have it.’

‘It?’

‘The number.’

‘Uh huh. And what else do I have?’ He held still, fingers poised on the lock, lips by my ear. ‘What else is “it”?’

I slumped, tension leaving my body in a sigh of relief. ‘Me.’

He spun the digits on the barrel lock and released his grip on the collar. ‘That’s what I like to hear.’

Oh, that soft, solicitous tone again. He slid a broad, warm hand onto my bare waist, nudging under one strap of my braces. ‘So you want to wear my collar,’ he said. ‘Until when, Cha Cha?’ He caressed firmly, his hand sliding up towards my breast, teasing me. My groin swayed towards his.

‘I don’t know,’ I said.

He thumbed my tight nipple. ‘She doesn’t know. I like that too. C’mere. Let’s sit down. You feeling better now?’ He led me towards the steps and I was grateful for the breather. The stone was cool and hard beneath my costume. Sol sat by my side, midway and on the step below me. He rubbed my thigh through my big skirt. In the half light, the shot silk flickered between blackish purple and green, the street light gathering in its dips like pools of molten gold.

‘Let’s stay here awhile,’ he said. ‘Take a moment.’

He pushed my skirt higher, baring my shoes and shins as he bunched folds of iridescent fabric around my knees. Between my thighs I was swollen and heavy, thumping with need. Having only recently rebuked Sol for misplaced lust, my own arousal made me guilty.

‘The collar looks good on you,’ he said.

‘Feels good,’ I murmured, touching the chunky lock.

He dipped his hand under my skirt and grasped me above the knee, his touch sliding inwards.

‘You sure we can’t be seen?’ I asked.

‘Positive.’ His hand glided towards my crotch. ‘You disappointed?’

I laughed and leaned back, letting my knees flop open. The steps’ corners dug lines into my back. I felt like a Victorian whore, voluptuous and easy, and I liked it.

Sol grazed his thumb back and forth over my knickers. My plump, wet lips filled the dampening gusset. I clasped the railing, the thick paint blistered and scabby in my fist.

‘Let’s take a look at that pretty little pussy.’ He hooked his fingers high into my underwear and tugged. I raised my butt from the step so he could ease the garment down. Night air on my bared, wet crease made me shiver with the thrill of misbehaviour. He wriggled my knickers off and stretched them in both hands, pulling the gauzy black fabric taut.

‘Give me your ankle,’ he said, grasping it. He nudged my leg sideways then wrapped the silk and gauze around my ankle, fastening me to the railing, my foot on the step. The corroded metal scratched unpleasantly on my skin. Sol cursed under his breath as he pulled the delicate fabric tight, fumbling over a double knot. I tried not to think of how much the knickers had cost me. When he was satisfied with his handiwork, he nudged my other foot towards the wall of the steps so my legs were spread, one forcibly, the other willingly. He sat in the gap of my thighs, leaning against me so my free leg was no longer quite so free. He murmured appreciatively as he pushed my skirt up to my hips, taffeta rustling into corrugations, leaving my swollen split bared to him, surrounded by a froth of shimmering skirt.

‘If they could see you now,’ he said. Gently, he trailed a finger over my pouting lips, watching my expression as he teased me. ‘All those people from the club, standing around, wanting to fuck you. But they can’t because you’re mine, aren’t you?’

My flesh tingled beneath his finger. He continued stroking me awhile and though the night was warm, goosebumps prickled across my skin. He parted me, gliding gently along my slippery centre, and smiled to see me arch and whimper. Finally, when I thought his leisurely caress might send me mad with horniness, he eased a single finger into me. I groaned in pleasure-tinged frustration. I wanted so much more. My cunt ached with emptiness and I craved a thick, solid, rough penetration. He stroked within me and I bucked against his hand, frantic to be pushed open and filled.

‘Greedy,’ he reproached. ‘Keep still or you get nothing.’

I moaned, fighting the instinctive rise of my pelvis, and allowed him to continue with his tease. He inched higher up my body, half kneeling so he was closer to my face but not close enough for kisses. He brushed his thumb over my clit, his gaze still fixed on my reactions. I gasped lightly as his thumb swirled circles over the tender nub. Hot, fierce blips leaped to meet his touch.

‘I wish they were all here now,’ he murmured. ‘All watching you, their dicks getting harder and harder. I’d tell them they could fuck you but they’d need to form a line and be patient. Because I’m first.’

With a measured pace, he drove a second finger into me, curling both onto my sweet spot. The thumb fretting my clit grew firmer. Tremors flared and faded along my inner thighs as he continued speaking, his words stimulating my imagination while his hand did likewise to my body. Although I was sprawled on a flight of derelict, weedy steps, his words transported me. I was wherever he said I was, and with whomever he conjured up.

‘It’s not that I’m desperate to fuck you,’ he went on. ‘I just want to ensure all my nice, new friends have a first-rate experience with you. I’m a generous guy, see, and I like to impress. So I need to prep you first, loosen you up, make sure you’re wet and easy. Make sure you’re gagging for cock, even though you won’t admit it. So I’d fuck you hard, checking you were good enough to be offered up for use. Then, once I was done, I’d step back from you and I’d say to the guy at the head of the line, “She’s ready for you, dude. If she complains, take no notice. I’ll gag her if she gets annoying.” And I’d zip up while my friend unzipped. Then he—’

But I never learned what happened next because I drowned out his voice with my groans, tension tightening at my core, lifting me. I started to come, my body crunching and jerking, my senses scattering in the delirium of bliss. I wailed as quietly as I could while orgasmic ripples seized me, my leg tugging at the restraint around my ankle. In my mind’s eye, Sol’s new friends crowded around us, populating the grimy recess where I reclined on concrete steps, tethered to the railings, my thighs spread open. Their presence shamed me because their lechery caused my pleasure. The circle looped in vicious infinity, pleasure causing shame, and shame causing pleasure.

Sol’s real-life voice drifted into my imaginary scenario. ‘Hot little bitch,’ he murmured, his fingers still inside me.