Читать книгу Take Me: A Collection of Submissive Adventures - Victoria Blisse, Giselle Renarde - Страница 5

I stared at it, trying not to feel discouraged. The fixer-upper I had bought and proceeded to gut was coming along much, much slower than I’d thought. My tiny deck outside the small kitchen was a mess. It was only about eight by six. Built as an offshoot where a backdoor should have been, it stood on what must have been twenty-foot stilts, suspending the deck above the yard below.

‘Not what I was hoping for,’ I sighed. I’d stopped in to check on the work. Oddly, of the entire house I’d bought, it was this tiny odd little porch I was most excited about.

‘We’ll get it there.’

I jumped about a foot, clutching my heart and making an ungodly noise. Anger rushed through me in a red wave at being startled and embarrassed.

‘What. The. Hell?’ I ground out.

Then I was face to face with him and he grinned. ‘Sorry. I thought you’d hear me clumping in here in these clodhoppers.’ He pointed to his thick and dusty work boots. Steel-toed, no doubt.

‘I didn’t.’ Now I was ashamed of my temper. ‘I was lost in the world of dream home makeovers.’

He laughed. My stomach tumbled at realising it was him. The one and only worker on my disastrous and constantly shifting home project that I had noticed. More than once I’d felt the tickle of energy on my skin and turned to see him staring at me. More than once I had found myself staring at him and then been caught red-handed when he’d turned and spotted me.

And we’d smile and look away. Me with a blush. Him barking orders at men.

‘We’re getting there. Don’t worry.’

‘Not as fast as I hoped.’ I stopped looking at him because it was starting to get hot in the kitchen even with the door to the deck open.

‘These things never go as fast as we hope,’ he said.

I turned fast and didn’t stop myself. ‘What’s your name? Mine is Maggie. I know you know that but I don’t know … yours.’

‘John. John Frost.’

I nodded. ‘Nice to –’

He took two big steps toward me. The motion both comforting and aggressive – a looming, sexy oxymoron.

‘– meet you,’ I gasped.

When he reached out to touch me, I never questioned it. When he turned me back to face the porch, his large body crowding mine but not actually touching me, I never complained. ‘What will it be, Maggie?’ he asked me.

His breath was hot in my ear and I could barely hear his words because my head was full of the sound of my almost violent heartbeat. My top lip beaded with a fine cool sweat and I could feel my hands shaking, so I clenched them into fists. ‘A bed, mostly.’

Laughter rumbled out of him and shook his body, which in turn shook me. ‘A bed?’

I nodded, smiling. ‘A bed,’ I echoed. All of my effort was focused on not focusing on the fact that my body felt tingly and electric where he was touching me.

He leaned in closer. His bulk almost but not quite touching mine. His fingers curled more firmly to my shoulders and my nipples peaked as easy as you please. I wondered if John Frost could see over my shoulder and make out the shamefully plain evidence of what he was doing to me.

‘I want it to be new hardwood and a bed that rests up against the back wall. Layers and layers of colourful fabric. Like gypsy fabric, but a big fat tall bed fit for a princess. Like a daybed on steroids.’

‘A gypsy princess?’ he asked. When his lips came down on the back of my neck a small strangled cry slipped out of me. His fingers bit into my shoulder again and I held my breath until spots appeared.

Is this what all our shared looks and unaddressed attraction had done? And did I want this to go forward?

I exhaled, hearing the shiver in my breath. Then inhaled deeply like I was doing yoga and I had my answer. Yes. This was what I wanted. We were the only ones here and I’d been fixated on this tall, bulky, blond man for ages. His eyes were the colour of seawater and the scar that ran through his left eyebrow never failed to make my pussy wet.

‘A gypsy princess,’ I stammered.

‘What do you want to do on this bed, Miss Maggie?’ He stopped kissing me but his hands slid around my waist and splayed, and his palms rested over my waistband. His fingers pointed down and brushed the top of my sex. My clit thumped along with my pounding heart. I was so wet between my legs I might be embarrassed if I didn’t want him so badly.

I wished my gypsy bed was out there. Layers and layers of thick padding and bright fabric. Because I’d want him to fuck me on it. Out in the cool night air under the navy-blue sky, pinpricked with white stars.

‘What would you do on this bed?’ He unsnapped my pants. One snap, two snap … and then he put his hands under my blouse. Not high up, just along the stripe of skin above my waistband. I made a mewing sound so full of need my cheeks blazed with shame.

‘I would read.’

‘And?’ Those hands slipped a bit higher. Cool night air rushed in through the dilapidated screen door and licked at my exposed skin.

‘And sleep.’

‘And?’ Higher still. Brushing along my ribcage so that my skin pebbled up in gooseflesh. My body was simultaneously hot and cold, light and heavy.

My breath shivered just like my body and I said, ‘And … other things.’

I felt him smile against my hair and his fingers tickled up along my skin and cupped my breasts. He was brave and I was willing. ‘Would those other things be … maybe … fucking?’ When he said that, John pinched my nipples hard through my sheer bra.

My body jolted as if filled with an electric current and he took that moment to press himself against the back of me. I could feel his cock, hard and impressive, riding the split of my bottom. ‘You know, boss lady, I’ve been watching you for quite a while.’

I swallowed convulsively, trying to keep my wits about me. He was scrambling my brain. Touching me, kissing my neck, rubbing himself against my willing form. ‘I know.’

He chuckled. ‘Do you?’

‘I do, because …’ His warm, rough hands pushed up under my bra, forcing it out of the way, and cupped my now naked tits.

‘Because?’

‘I’ve been watching you back,’ I finished. Time to be brave back, Maggie, I scolded myself. Because, under all my nervousness, I wanted this. Very much.

‘Oh, really?’ But we both knew he was aware. He walked me forward to the screen door that looked out onto the barely illuminated square of my wrecked deck.

Who knew who was watching? Who knows who could see us?

It was all irrelevant, though, because I was trapped between his big strong arms and he was sliding his hands down my sides, stroking my belly, pushing his long fingers under my waistband and into my panties. One fingertip found my clit and I grew tense in his arms from the sudden friction.

‘Shh-shh-shh, boss lady,’ he said. I stilled, going soft in his embrace. My head rested against his shoulder and I felt the bunch and dance of his biceps moving as he manipulated his fingers lower and slid one into me. John curled that finger just so and I heard myself purr in response.

We were utterly silent, the outside chatter of the city filtering through the fine screen door. I was close enough to the door that if I stuck my tongue out, I’d be touching it. He wanted me to see out, or he wanted someone to see in. A thrill shimmered in my gut and I gasped when he drove a second finger into my cunt and flexed his fingers again.

‘See, if you had that bed, I’d start with this. I’d get you on that bed and trap you against me and I’d fuck you with my fingers until you gave it up for me. A sweet little orgasm where I could feel your pussy spasm around my hand and watch your face when you came.’

Despite the cool air from the door, I felt like I was suffocating. There wasn’t enough air – or I couldn’t get it fast enough as he shoved a third finger in and curled the bundle to my tender inside flesh.

‘I never –’ I started but then my words turned into a long exhalation as he pushed just a bit deeper and his palm banged against my clitoris.

‘Never what?’

I shook my head as he moved a little faster, a little rougher now that I was so damn wet.

‘Never what?’ he asked again as my body gave that first greedy clench of an approaching peak. That first tight grip of an orgasm on the way.

‘I never come this way,’ I groaned, sagging in his arms shamelessly as I did just that. My pussy rippling and milking at his thrusting fingers until I was shaking as if I had a fever.

‘That was a pretty strong never,’ he said. He shoved my jeans down to my knees and then bent to push them lower. My panties got dragged along with them and I found myself bare from the waist down in the torn-apart kitchen of my future home. Facing a screen door that was nothing but a tall spying window for the darkened city.

He pushed me forward and I went. His tented fingers shoved the squeaky old door open and we were out on the deck. It sort of groaned when our weight hit it and I yelped. ‘What is that?’

‘That is dry rot,’ he said, moving me so that I stood where my future gypsy bed would be.

‘Oh my God, go in. We’re going to die.’

‘We’re not going to die,’ John said, turning me towards the whitewashed wall. He put my palms up on the wall and pressed against me again. My heart was a palpable thing in my temples, banging away like it needed to escape. His zipper was loud to me even over the night sounds and I felt the hot bare skin of his cock run from the small of my back down the crack of my ass and back up again.

He shifted his sizeable bulk and the porch creaked. ‘I can see the ground through some of the boards,’ I wheezed. I was scared, but I was also excited.

The thought of him fucking me here was beyond a turn-on. The thought of us plummeting to our deaths … not so much.

He pressed himself against me and reached around to grab my breasts. He pinched and squeezed with the perfect amount of chaotic pressure to leave me breathless. We’d been dancing around each other for what felt like ages. Glances and smiles, but sometimes just ignoring each other because we weren’t supposed to go there. So when he trapped my nipples tight between his fingers, I sighed long and lusty.

‘Tell me no and we can be done. Consider that hand-induced orgasm a gift, on the house.’

I didn’t let my mind pick at the problem. I pushed back from the wall and turned fast. He gave me slack to let me move, probably assuming I was backing out. Instead, I grabbed his face in my hands and stood on tiptoe. Something cracked and I whimpered, but just kept kissing him. I found his cock with my hand and circled my finger around him, squeezing so that he made a desperate noise this time.

‘I don’t want to change my mind. I’m in. I’m scared we’re going to crash and die but I’m also scared to miss this chance.’

His fingers dipped into me again as if it were a test. Finding me still soaked, he grunted with pleasure. ‘Stay right here.’

And there I stood, hands wrestling each other nervously as I waited. The city whispered around me, bright lights from the harbour just a mile away as the crow flies, winking merrily. I scanned the windows to see if any of my neighbours might be spying on my current state of confused undress.

He came back, the porch shuddering as his weight hit it. He held an ice chest. When he motioned with his head for me to move, I scuttled towards the house instead of the outer rail. That way, when the whole dry-rotten mess came tumbling down I could dive madly for the door.

‘Live and laugh, and fuck on the edge of danger,’ he said, chuckling. But then, ‘I’m only kidding. I promise you it will hold.’

I wasn’t sure what emotion was winning the war in my chest at the moment. My yammering anxiety or my shouting arousal. He patted the ice chest and said, ‘Sit.’

‘I –’

‘It’s a bit short,’ he said, encircling my wrist with his thick fingers and moving me when I remained frozen. ‘But we can pretend it’s your gypsy bed. And I can show you what I’d like to do to you, boss lady.’

‘How long?’ I blurted.

He put my hand on his cock and said, ‘Well, I’d like to say about nine –’

A high, manic burble came out of me and then I snorted. Dear God. ‘Not that,’ I said. ‘How long have you been … interested?’

‘That’s what you want to know?’ He cocked his head when he said it and it gave him an endearing quality. He pushed me gently with just his fingertips and I sat down a bit too hard on the ice chest. I heard bits of old wood break free from under the porch and fall to the yard. The whole deck was shattered. Just like my nerves.

My heart rate picked up speed again but I noticed the steady wet thump in my cunt was almost unbearably pleasant. As scared as I was.

‘Yes. That’s what I want to know.’

He got on his knees in front of me, taking his own sweet time. He nudged my thighs apart. The streetlight from below lit the right side of his face a cool blue, while the light from the kitchen lit the left a warm yellow. He was an angel, a demon, a new lover I’d fantasised about.

‘Since day one,’ he said, lowering his mouth to my navel, kissing me so that I wanted to shiver and shift, but then the deck creaked and I was too afraid. ‘In fact, one night I got off not once but twice, just thinking about kissing you for hours.’

‘Oh,’ I said as he kissed lower. And then ‘Oh’ again as his mouth settled on my pussy. He sucked my outer lips one at a time in a slow and deliberate way and when he finally slipped his tongue into my wet folds and found me at my centre, I gripped the hard plastic lid of the ice chest with shaking fingers.

John put his fingers in me again, curling slow, making me beg with small subtle thrusts of my hips. He sucked my clitoris, making the small muscles in my abdomen flutter and dance.

‘Is it that important?’

‘Yes. No … Yes.’

He chuckled, hot breath rushing over my sex. ‘Make up your mind, Miss Maggie.’

‘No,’ I finally decided.

‘And you?’ He licked long wet stripes over my flesh and paused every so often to press the flat of his tongue to the hard knot of my clit. The moment my body would go slack, he’d give me a wet circle or swirl or suckle so that I’d go tense again.

‘Me what?’ I gasped, finally remembering his question.

‘How long – if at all – were you interested in me?’

‘From the moment I saw you,’ I said. No point in lying.

He gave a single nod as if to say, That’s settled …

‘Now back to this imaginary bed,’ he said.

I was enraptured by his eyes in this light. And his voice. And the steady thrum of my body in response to what he was doing.

‘Yes, my gypsy bed. Layers and layers of bright fabric and yummy cushioning.’

‘Exactly. See, I can picture you out here, in the twilight, a glass of wine or iced tea.’ As he spoke he ran the head of his dick from my clit to my wet opening. Then a bit farther back. Only to drag it all the way back up through my moisture. When he teased my clitoris with his wet tip, my body shuddered and again the porch groaned. I grabbed his biceps, white-knuckling it.

‘Hey now, would I be out here with you if I thought we were –’

‘Going to die?’ I blurted.

‘In danger,’ he said and grunted. His cock made that wet journey again and I forgot to be afraid again.

‘Wine,’ I said.

‘What?’

‘It would be wine. I’d have.’

‘Ah yes, wine,’ he said, slipping just the tip of himself in me and staying that way. Stretching that ring of muscle, making my pussy want to draw him in and clamp down on him. Instead I tried to breathe and hold on. ‘And then, as I was saying, I’d find you there with your wine.’

A kiss on my belly as he curved his back. And yet he did not move his hips. He did not drive into me.

‘I’d find you with your wine and I’d do what I just did. Part those pretty white thighs and eat your pussy. Until you came. And then, pretty lady, I’d put myself between those thighs …’

Still he didn’t move. And I couldn’t breathe. My cunt clenched, trying to get more friction, failing.

‘And I’d fuck you until you said my name. More than once.’

‘Please,’ I said.

‘Please what?’

‘Please don’t torture me,’ I said with a laugh.

‘Like this?’ He slipped into me fully, filling and stretching me and finally, blissfully, kissing me. I grasped his face and let him bully my mouth with his even as he moved.

The porch groaned, some dead wood fell, my eyes flew open and I saw again the pinpoint dots of holes in the wood, backlit by the street lamps.

‘Shh,’ he said, gripping my hips hard and thrusting into me. ‘We’re fine. I promise.’

I wrapped my leg around his waist and tugged him to me even as he moved that way anyway. Long and thick, he touched nerve endings in me that were long dormant and very greedy. A thick rush of warm pleasure filled my pelvis and I groaned.

‘We won’t fall,’ he said.

‘It’s not that,’ I whispered, dragging my hands down his big arms, over his broad back, only to plunge them back into his short wheat-coloured hair.

‘Then what?

‘You’re big.’

He laughed.

‘And thick.’

This time he was silent and his breathing went harsh.

‘And perfect,’ I said.

John Frost thrust hard and his pelvic bone smacked my swollen clit and I came. I didn’t expect it, I was swimming in a viscous syrup of pleasure, but that extra startling stimulation drove me over the edge.

He stilled. ‘Christ.’

‘What? What?’ I babbled as my body continued to milk out every delicious drop of bliss.

‘I don’t want to come yet,’ he said, kissing my nipple, my collar bone, my chest. He stayed still, no doubt to stave off his orgasm.

I pushed my palms against the ice chest and he moved back when I tried to stand.

‘Where you going?’

‘Losing my mind.’ I leaned forward briefly, seeing the edges of the deck where the wood was the most shattered. The thin places that were the most dangerous. I licked the tip of his cock for a moment, just to hear him shift, just to hear him groan. ‘Come on,’ I said.

Was I really going to do this? Had I utterly lost my mind?

‘What is it they say about adrenalin and fucking?’ I asked myself more than John.

But he heard me and chuckled. ‘It’s not nearly as dangerous as you think it is.’

I put my hand on the railing, my body licked by cool night air. I pushed the old wood just enough that it rocked. It creaked and I whispered, ‘Really?’

‘Really. Wood and nails are sturdier fare than you think.’ He’d moved up behind me, pressing his cock to the split of my ass.

I hummed and arched back against him. ‘Do it,’ I said.

John chuckled, but a big possessive hand fanned my lower back, making my nipples grow harder still. He stroked the ladder of my spine, ticking off each vertebra with the tip of his fingers. ‘Are you sure about that, Maggie? You’re so scared you’re shaking and yet you want me to fuck you while you brace against it?’

‘I’ve been scared for ever. Part of dealing with it was buying this house and now part of it that I want is this … freedom. To be wild and alive and not afraid of falling.’

He pushed my thighs wider and slid the tip of his cock along me until he found my wet split. He held my hips as I gripped the railing, then thrust into me. My body rocked forward, pushing me onto my toes, forcing my weight forward so the railing groaned. I shivered but my pussy clenched up tight around him. So tight that he noticed. ‘Fuck,’ he growled.

I pushed back, ratcheting up the friction between us. Bracing myself with one hand, feeling the railing rock some but ignoring it even as the adrenalin spiked through me, I found my clit and started to rub. The grip of his hands on me, the cadence of his breath, all said he was close. And I was close, the fear as blissful as the pleasure.

John looped his big arm around my waist, bringing his body closer to me. His thrusts were deep and hard and when I rubbed my clit my body bloomed with heat and delight.

‘Hang on, boss lady,’ he growled and thrust harder. Once, fast and brutal.

I rocked against the railing and wood cracked dryly. Shards fell away and, seeing it all come undone, I came undone too. Coming hard, rippling around his still-driving cock. He laughed, but it was a wild laugh like one born of an adrenalin rush. Taking a step back from the edge as the far left corner of the rail toppled over, I heard it hit the yard below with a dull thud.

‘You’re a walk on the wild side,’ he said. ‘First you’re terrified … then you’re ready for cliff diving, so to speak.’

He pulled free of me and I turned, rushed at him, drove him back as I moved forward. When we hit the safety of the kitchen, I jumped against him hard and kissed him. We both went down in a heap on the old kitchen tiles. He grabbed my hair, looping his hand in a tangle of it, and hauled me in for another kiss.

‘That was … that was … wow!’ I laughed. My hand found his cock and I was stroking him again. He was growing hard already.

‘Yeah, imagine the things I’m going to do to you when that gypsy princess bed is out there.’

I straddled him and ground my wet pussy on his pubic bone. I felt the rise and press of his growing erection against the cleft of my ass. Adrenalin, apparently, did do amazing things for a body.

His hands slipped under my top and found my breasts. Pinching, kneading, squeezing me until I shut my eyes and let my head fall forward. ‘So …’ I said, trailing off.

He put his hand to my mouth and covered my lips. My pulse spiked when he did it. Just like the railing and the fucking on the dilapidated porch, it held the potential for danger. His hand was big, my mouth was small. He caught the look in my eye and moved his hand down to circle my neck. When he pressed his thumb and pinky to the pound of my pulse, I grew wetter.

‘So … I figure that this deck, this bed, this gypsy project should become my focus. My personal project.’

I rocked against him, watching those ice-blue eyes darken a shade with arousal.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘And then when my crew leaves for the day maybe you could come check out my progress. Make sure it’s good.’ He squeezed my neck softly so that my head felt muffled and fuzzy for a split second. Then he released me and reeled me in with a lock of hair.

He kissed me, then waited for me to speak.

‘Yeah,’ I agreed. I found him with my hand and put him back to my wet entrance. Before I sank down I said softly, ‘I’ll bring the wine.’