Yield (6 page)

He covered my mouth with his, denying me oxygen in a kiss that was an assault, not romantic foreplay.

His larger body crushed me slowly to the wall. With every breath, my breasts pushed into his chest. The harder he crushed me, and the harder he kissed, the more I tried to resist. Every breath became a fight, yet it was background noise, as his tongue shoved into me.

Seeing loses importance when you’re kissing, really kissing.

I tasted this man, and felt his tongue probe my mouth, felt him breathe hotly into me, and his bites on my neck. I’d never had a man dare to hold me with such perfection. No matter what I did, or how much force I used to try to pull loose, he kept me in place, beneath him.

I vanished into some other place where I was...his.

I could hear myself groaning and breathing hard. Feel the twist of my body as I struggled to escape even though I couldn’t and didn’t want to. I felt the press of his thigh between mine. The rush and heat of blood. The screwing, twining, pumping of pressure inside me until I was gasping for relief. Do me. Fuck me. Be inside me.

“Please.” I cried the word, in a shameless way. “Please.

Then he stopped kissing me.

“What do you want?”

“You.” I opened my eyes again. How did you say this? I kept going, hoping my brain would find the words, no matter how embarrassing. “You. I want you...in me.”

He laughed softly. “Not yet. Not until I say. Are your panties wet now? Are you?”

Why couldn’t he want this like I did?

“Yes?” I said hesitantly.

“Let me see. Let me feel you.” He stepped away a foot. “Pull aside your bikini.”

The bump in his boardshorts advertised his eagerness. Just doing what he said was as impossible as throwing myself out the window behind him, naked. I simply...couldn’t. I reached for him, already knowing it was wrong.

Like I expected, like I wanted, I realized, he grabbed my hand, and stopped me, tightening his fingers in on mine until it hurt.

“No. Do what I said.”

“Or what?” I asked, breathless and hoping. “Would you hurt me?”

The seconds burned past, leaving a trail of lust.

The walls in here were going to be steeped in our pheromones when we were gone.

Around his eyes crinkled. “I’ll spank you red. With some bites for extra. And since it will be my first time doing that, you should be fucking scared.”

“You’ve never...” I flushed, knowing my hushed tone had betrayed my excitement. What was wrong with me, wanting this? I hadn’t even been able to say spanked.

“Never wanted to.”

My wrists were hurting from twisting in his grip. The sting reminded me, exquisitely, of what he could do.

Reality – he’d not done this before. That I was his first was scary, a good sort of scary. What would it feel like? Why did I even fucking want to know what it would feel like? And when he’d said he’d bite me, a sexual thrill had twisted in. Not just because of me imagining him doing it. I’d heard such wicked anticipation in his voice. Both of us had our souls out raw, on the block, for each other to see.

He folded his arms and his biceps strained the sleeves of his shirt.

His hands had impressed me from when I first saw him at the café – big, calloused. Testosterone would be more common than blood inside Glass. He’d have no trouble figuring out how to hurt me. I think I had a mini orgasm right then and there. Damn. Why didn’t I know this about myself?

“You have five seconds.” He didn’t count out loud, or look at his wristwatch, which made it worse. I had to guess.

I blinked. Then I took a deep, deep breath. The beginning. I’d asked for this. I slid my shaking hand downward until my fingers met the top edge of the bikini. When I moved to pull it down, he shook his head.

“Uh-uh. Don’t take them off. Just pull the crotch aside.”

Fuck. This was more than a little humiliating. But, as I shifted the thin scrap of cloth, I realized how wet I was. I’d soaked the crotch of the bikini bottoms despite only having only put them on a few minutes before.

I fumbled and my fingers slid across my lower lips. The attention of this man on where my fingers were made me even wetter and my swollen labia tingled at my own touch. I waited, red-faced, knowing my pussy had spasmed in while he watched. Hopefully, the angle meant he hadn’t seen.

“Push out your pelvis. I want you to finger fuck yourself.” His gaze flicked to my face.

We hadn’t even had sex and he wanted something so intimate?

I shut my eyes, shocked, and yet, I was going to do this. Did he wonder if I would? Or was he so arrogant that he knew?

I searched his face.

Oh yes, he was sure. Arrogant bastard – Glass in two words.

But I loved it. I desperately wanted that arrogance.

My breath hitched as I bumped my finger over the swollen contours of my pussy. I found the tight circle of my entrance and inserted my middle finger, gasping a little as I explored myself.

“That’s it. Good girl.” He grunted. “Keep going – keep fucking yourself – until I say stop. Use your thumb on your clit. I want to see you panting, Wren.” All said with that fierce concentration.

God. This was so arousing. I delved inside myself, my finger slipping in easily on my moisture. When the skin between my fingers hit my limit, I pulled out that finger, and stuck it back in. So slick was I, the sucking and sliding sounds travelled. The smallest friction of that finger inside me was a hundred times better than when I’d masturbated before.

He watched my face and my hand equally, going from one to the other, one to the other. The small smile that showed in his eyes, amped my pleasure and made me even crazier. I went past the point where I cared what he saw and groaned, shoving my crotch at him as I fucked myself. I squeezed in a second finger and thumbed my clit harder, doing vigorous circles over just the right spot.

The obvious erection in his boardshorts made me grunt and slow. I gasped a few times then braved his criticism, my fingers still deep inside. “Please? I’d rather... You?”

I’d never ached for cock like this.

God, my clit and pussy were pulsing, and I was dying for release. Just a few more seconds, or a ride on that dick straining at his shorts. I could feel it in me, sliding in, fucking me.

“No. I want you to pull out your fingers. Put your hands above your head and wait.”

Wait for what? The zombie apocalypse? I needed this man inside me or I was going to explode. And I was already messy enough.

“Glass, this is –”

“Grounds for spanking?” That smile went away and he nodded slightly, as if he was imagining doing it.

The connection between us went from hot to on fire in two seconds flat.

There was sex and there was whatever the hell this was. Analyzing it was not happening, though I tried, my logical thoughts were snarled up with my desires. Raising my hands would make me feel like a pet fucktoy being exhibited and somehow that was good. No. Wait. His pet fucktoy. That was the important bit.

I left my bikini where it was, rolled to one side. Without losing his attention one iota, I put my hands above my head, aware my hand was sticky and glistening with my juices.

“You are so beautiful.”

“Thank you?” I think I squeaked that out. Fuck. Do me, man.

He took a step nearer, and went to one knee before me. Then, with excruciating slowness, he found the edge of the bikini and placed it back over my pussy, covering me. Oh you bastard. When he slid a finger dead center down my slit, squashing the cloth into me, I quivered and let out a small moan. My fingers curled and my toes scrunched in and, as subtly as I could, I moved on his finger.

If only...

Frozen with hope, I watched him rest his hands on the front of my thighs, then lean forward, with that gleam in his eyes, and breathe on me. The warmth permeated through the cloth, heating my clit.

“God damn,” I croaked. My legs shook but I said nothing more. There was some intangible...reward in not asking. In waiting for his decision.

“You’re going to come down to the pool with me now. Like this.” He nodded. “All wet and ready to be fucked.” He stood, sliding his hands up my mostly naked torso and stopping with them curved into my waist. “And I’m going to know what you’re feeling. How fucking wet your cunt is because of me.”

Dirty, dirty man. I shuddered.

That was it. Nothing more.

Mouth agape, I watched as he turned and walked to the door, picking up his towel from the floor on the way. Then he held the door open and cocked his head at me.

Incomprehensible combustion, that’s what they’d call how I died. I sighed and followed him. Every second was rendering me ever more addicted to this arrogant man.

Glass

We took the concrete stairs and went down to ground level. After watching Wren’s small feet negotiate the bends and take a few of them wide, I guided her with my palm on her hip or ass. Two glasses of Champagne and she was tipsy. Two and maybe I wasn’t thinking straight either. I’d just complicated everything a hundredfold.

Employer and employee relationships didn’t normally involve spankings like this one might. I’d begun this affair at the café to get her out of our hair. To eliminate a threat. I hadn’t been thinking straight. Though the news earlier today meant maybe I’d have been better off staying away? Wait. She might’ve ended up dead. No way would that have been acceptable, even if I hadn’t gotten to know her.

When I again guided her, Wren frowned at me. “You don’t need to do that. I’m okay.”

“You’re not.” I tightened my fingers on her ass to remind her I could do what I liked tonight. Her gasp and fleeting look of shock pleased me. “I don’t want to risk you falling.”

Manipulating her was my newest obsession. I tipped her chin up then kissed her lightly while running my finger along her slit. My finger sank almost an inch into the groove of her pussy, when I used enough pressure. Through the material, I could feel her slickness.

When I probed especially deep with that finger, she squealed and wriggled. “Glass! This isn’t fair. It’s public.”

Wriggly woman. Mmm. My balls were going to be so blue.

“No one here, Wren. Except us. Keep still.” I pulled her head back by her hair and kept her backed against the railing, while I played with her pussy some more – long enough to get her groaning quietly. If I wasn’t fuzzing her brain with lust, I was happy doing it to mine.

I let her go and she hung there, hands clinging to the metal, seeming spun out in some pre-orgasmic space. Now that was pretty.

“Come on.” I took her hand, tugged until she focused on me, and started down the stairs.

“If you keep doing that,” she muttered. “I’m going to need therapy. More therapy, I mean.”

I snorted. “And the more you complain the longer I’m going to keep you like that.”

Her next look was perplexed.

Whatever her question, I had no answer, yet. Wren had some appeal I couldn’t measure. I’d had pretty women before. Wasn’t that. Daring? Rich? I think it was the kinkiness shining through whenever I challenged her.

Yeah, that was a big part of it.

What I was doing to her seemed to have fried her synapses too. Just a smidgeon. A hot woman who’d given me carte blanche with her body. Every man’s dream.

She was still mostly an enigma to me. I knew little of who she was, apart from the public details about the millionaire heiress. Whether I fucked her or not, and who was I kidding, it was a foregone conclusion, surely? Either way, I had to get her away from Papua New Guinea. Away from the mess here that might hide clues for her to find. Or people wanting to kill her over them. I’d lure her to Australia, on the pretense of finding Vetrov. After that, I’d have to see what I could make happen.

Anything. Why think small?

I peeked through the square of frosted glass on the pool area door. Still no lights on inside. Then I unlocked the door and ushered her through, watching the sway of that pert bottom.

The pool area was unlit except by the moon smiling above and the streetlights washing over the wall and leaking through gaps between buildings. Water shone on the limestone paving, where someone had crossed while dripping. We slung our towels on a sun lounge and dropped into the shallow end, raising twin geysers of water as we plunged in.

Wren submerged and slipped away underwater, rising from the depths after a few yards to swim freestyle to the far end and back. Though her strokes seemed precise, I reached down and caught her shoulder when she returned.

“That’s deep up there. With that Champagne in you, you’re not swimming laps.”

She rose from the water and shook her head, using her hand to sweep away some hair that had fanned across her face. Even wet she was gorgeous. Hell, with the water making the bikini become her skin, I was going to need help getting my dick to go down or it might stick that way, permanently. Maybe her mouth could suck it dry. Now that was a thought.

“Come with me?” She backed away, as if ready to swim off again.

In the darkness it was hard to be sure but her smile wasn’t provocative, more unsure. She was delaying what I’d set in motion – her seduction.

Fuck that.

“No.”

“You’re worried about my safety? It’s been a while since anyone but Hugh truly cared if I lived or died.”

“I said I want you here.” I grabbed her hand.

“Wait. We need to finalize our agreement. Before...anything.”

“Anything?” Business first, hey? Procrastinating, for sure.

Slowly I reeled her in, keeping her coming my way, as I walked backward to the steps that led from the shallowest section. The water made musical sounds as it flowed around us. Cool in here, and it had made her nipples peak even higher.

“The agreement. I help you look for Vetrov in Australia. You pay me one hundred thousand. Another hundred when we have concrete evidence. Done.”

Headlights flickered through part of the fence and across the pool.

“Are you afraid of me, Wren?”

“I’m not some street-working bimbo.”

I studied her. Having second thoughts or just reminding me of how much of a sacrifice this was to her? I didn’t suppose she often went to her knees before men, and that was what she’d done, in a manner of speaking. She’d descended to my level from her lofty throne in her tower in the clouds.