A Touch of Winter (A Short Story) (3 page)

Jack found other useful toys in the rest of the house and returned with his haul. Her eyes widened as she looked at the items in his arms. 'What are you doing to do with those?'

'You’ll see.' He touched the foot she had managed to wiggle free, and she flinched, although it had been a mere brush of his fingers. No matter how mad she was, Abbie wasn’t immune to him. 'Or maybe you shouldn’t.'

He remembered Abbie talking about how her inner editor was always taking note of what was happening around her, in case she needed to run or so she could write about it later. It was time to silence that editor.

Jack pulled her tee up over her head, leaving her mouth and nose free, but keeping her eyes covered. It had the added bonus of trapping her arms close to her head. She spluttered. 'You bastard.' But she hadn’t said 'stop'.

'Language,' he reprimanded her, but he couldn’t get upset, not when he had that delectable view spread out in front of him. He sat on the couch and traced a finger down her collarbone, between her breasts, over her trembling stomach, and along her mound. Still bare, he was pleased to see.

'Very nice. But you didn’t file a lingerie report this morning. What colour do you call those panties?'

'You can see them.' She sounded surly and he laughed.

'I know, but it’s your job to tell me.'

She couldn’t see and had to think for a moment to remember what she had put on that morning. 'Ashes of roses.'

Jack laughed. 'Writers! Can’t you just say pink?'

He drew his finger down one thigh, so rounded and enticing he wanted to bite it. Maybe later. She quivered in response.

'Now the rules of this game are simple. You say "stop" and it’s all over. Otherwise, you tell me how I make you feel. That’s all. Talk and tell me what you feel, and I’ll react appropriately. Don’t talk, and you won’t enjoy it. Understand?'

She nodded. 'What’s the catch?'

'No catch.'

Jack moved off the couch and picked up the first of his finds, a long white feather he had liberated from a vase in Kit and Kevin’s bedroom. He had a much better use for it. He swept it over Abbie’s stomach. She sucked in a breath and moaned. He liked that reaction, but it wasn’t what he wanted.

'Naughty,' he said gently. 'You’re supposed tell me what it feels like. So I won’t do that again.'

He ignored her cry of disappointment, and picked up an ice-cube. He glided it between her breasts, fascinated by the way the film of melted ice gleamed on her skin.

'Cold,' she cried. 'Cold. Wet.' She shook slightly.

'Good, that’s what I want to hear. What else?' He glided the cube up the slope of one breast.

She shivered. 'So cold, it’s almost burning. I can feel water sliding down under my arm. Wet.' He puffed on the damp skin and she shook.

'Good girl. Now you’re getting the idea.' This time he took a rose and brushed it up and down her body.

'What is that? It feels soft. Damp? It’s gentle.' He circled her belly button with the rose, then held it close to her nose so she could smell it. 'A rose? Oh, that’s nice.' The rose left a torn petal in her hair when he moved it around her face. As she relaxed, he allowed on thorn to scratch her lightly and she cried out. 'That hurts.'

'Even roses have thorns.' But he whisked the head of the rose over her again until she relaxed.

'Now,' he said. 'I notice that you’ve gotten thinner, and I distinctly remember that we had a discussion about what would happen if you stopped eating.' And then traced a line down her stomach with his prize find from the spice cupboard.

She twitched, ready to react in case it was something painful, but stopped. 'It’s cold. Wet. Not dripping or anything. Just feels odd.' He moved it closer to her face to where she could smell it. 'Is that peppermint?'

'Mint oil. I had promised you ginger but this is better.' Yes, she remembered where he had promised to put the ginger root if she didn’t keep enough food on her fridge.

Abbie twisted away from him, but he put his hand on her belly to hold her still. 'How does it feel?'

She stilled, concentrating on sensation. 'Cold. Not bad.' After a few moments when he rubbed it on her thighs, she added, 'Maybe a bit boring.'

He pushed her free foot up, so that he had access to her pussy. 'So pretty,' he said, and rubbed a couple of drops over it. She jerked. 'Oh, that feels hot.'

'Good, what else?' He rubbed it gently on her clitoris.

'Burning. Itchy.' She was panting, her hips moving, trying to twist away. 'Hot and cold together. It makes me—'

'Yes?' He kept stroking.

'It makes me wet.'

He couldn’t resist bending down to kiss her. 'Good girl. You’re learning.'

As a reward, he stroked the white feather up and down her body until she was moaning and muttering, 'So soft. Tickles. Oh, please, do that again.'

He allowed her to wallow in the feather’s touch for a few minutes longer, then took it away.

He flipped her over. 'And now a bit of punishment.' He shoved a cushion under her hips, raising her rounded bottom to the perfect height. 'You’re going to get six. Talk to me, tell me what it feels and what is on your mind.'

'You bastard.' He tapped gently for a few minutes until she relaxed, then he struck smartly.

She jerked. 'Ow! What was that?'

'A shoe horn. Like it?'

'No. It hurts.' She turned her face into the couch, preparing to take the other five. He struck again. 'Fuck! That hurts. It stings.'

'Too much? You know that you have your safe word.'

She put her head down again. 'I can take another one or two. I’m not giving up yet.'

He tapped a few times, waiting for the perfect moment, then smacked down sharply. She reared up, flinching against the shoehorn.

'Talk to me. Tell me how it feels or I’ll keep going.'

'Bastard. It hurts. Burns.'

He rubbed the board red line soothingly. She arched against his hand. 'Keep talking.'

'I like that. Your hand is cool. Gentle.'

'Keep talking.' He stuck again, admiring the way the shoe horn bounced against her rosy buttocks. His cock, already stiff, hardened even more. He couldn’t keep this up much longer. But this was too important to cut short.

'AHH!' She gasped a few times, trying to get her breath back. 'So hard. Stings. Too much.'

'Do you want to stop? Say the word.

She considered, then shook her head. 'Do it quickly. Waiting is the hardest part.'

Five. 'OW!' She jerked, yanking back against the makeshift bonds. 'Like fire. Finish it, please.'

He struck one last time. She buried her face in the couch and went limp.

'Good girl.' He stroked her back. 'Now tell me why you ran.'

'I couldn’t bear to watch you with Paloma.' Her voice was muffled. 'I know that I’m going to lose you. But I can’t share you with someone else.'

He spun her around so that he could see her face. Her eyes were damp, but her expression was clear and unflinching.

'Idiot. You’re never going to lose me.'

She shook her head. 'That’s what you say now, but what if you change your mind? I can’t do casual. I can’t be the woman who scratches your itch when you’re in New York and doesn’t see you again for weeks. I want …'

'What do you want, Abbie?' Jack held his breath, waiting for her answer.

'You. I want you, Jack. I love you.'

* * *

There, she had said it and she had never felt so exposed. She loved Jack, wanted him in a way that she would never want anyone else. But a year of trying to keep a relationship afloat when he lived in LA and she lived in New York had taken its toll.

Abbie hated that she felt so needy. Hated that she checked her messages a dozen times a day hoping to hear from him. Hated seeing her best friends Kit and Kevin together, the way Kevin looked at her friend when he stroked her rounded abdomen while knowing she and Jack would never have that.

She was a reporter who travelled the world from one political hot spot to another, but settling down with a Hollywood superstar had never been on her bucket list. Now she seldom thought of anything else. But how could she say that to Jack? How could she confess to him that he was the one, and how could she survive if he didn’t feel the same?

The iPod had switched to Adele and the music sounded loud in the silence. Abbie bit her lip. Jack hadn’t responded.  He was obviously embarrassed by her confession. She had guessed wrong, risked everything and failed.  There was no going back to casual after this.  She stood up and steeled her face into a smile. Her mask. 'Well, I guess that’s it.'

Abbie was amazed that she sounded so controlled. She stood up and moved towards the door. Her sister would be so proud of her. 
Never let them know they hurt you.  Hold your head up and walk away
.

'Where do you think you’re going?' Jack asked.

Abbie shrugged. 'Out,' she said. 'I need some fresh air.'

'Running away again?'

She ignored the question.
Don’t turn around. Don’t  look at him.  Don’t let him see —

'Abbie.' The sharp edge of command in his voice stopped her in her tracks. 'You’ve told me how you feel. Don’t you want to know if I feel the same?'

She heard the thump of a cushion falling to the floor as he rose from the couch. Abbie held perfectly still as fear fought with hope. Jack’s warm hands caressed her shoulders and he pulled her against him.

'My brave girl.' His tone was soothing.  The movie star accent was gone and the lilt was back. Her Jack.

'Those are the three most terrifying words in the world – I need you.'

Her resolve melted into an unladylike snort as Jack wrapped his arms around her. 'I love you too, Abbie. Every day without you is torture and if you run away from me again you won’t be able to sit for a week.'

Abbie turned in his arms, burrowing her way into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him. He loved her. Jack loved her.

His hand fisted in her hair and he pulled her head back. Abbie braced herself for his rough kiss. Instead, he was gentle. Licking and kissing each tear from her cheeks. Then he stared at her, his eyes dark with intent. 'I want you.'

'Mmmm?' she felt giddy now.
He loved her. Loved her
.

Jack tugged his shirt from his pants. 'There’s a king sized bed downstairs and it seems a shame to waste it. Come on.' He held her hand as he went down the stairs. As soon as he reached the bedroom, he stripped. Abbie stared. Jack’s naked body was a work of art.

'Strip.' He didn’t bother turning around. He was back in Dom mode.  He fingers reached involuntarily for the edge of her skimpy tee. She hesitated for a moment before pulling it over her head and tossing it on the floor.

'Panties.' His voice came in a low rasp.

She shimmied them down her legs and stepped out of them. Leaving them on the floor.

'Come here.'

She crossed the distance that separated them and curved her body against his.  Soft flesh against hard muscle. Her five-foot-six frame dwarfed by his six-foot-two.  Jack always made her feel small, feminine. His. Abbie stood, clinging to him, relishing the feeling of his skin against hers.

'I love you, Abbie.'

His voice was hoarse, the lilt strong. His words were not practiced or rehearsed.  A simple confession from man to woman.

She placed a kiss on his chest, relishing the feel of him, licking the salt from his skin. She nuzzled his skin again. Licking her way slowly down abs, cupping the muscular cheeks of his butt, tracing a path with her nail along his right hip, sliding her hand around to stroke his erect cock.

'You’re treading on dangerous ground, woman.' Jack’s voice was unsteady.

'Really?' Abbie scored her nail along the heavy sack of his balls.

'Oh, you’ll pay for that.' Jack turned swiftly, capturing her in his arms, nipping on her lower lip.

'So spank me.'

A hot predatory gleam came into Jack’s eyes. 'Oh, I have every intention of doing that, and more.' Lifting her up, he carried her to the bed and dropped her in the middle of a soft quilt. His mouth fastened on one nipple and he suckled hard. He palmed her other breast, pinching the tender peak until she gasped. 'Remind me. Have we ever discussed nipple clamps?'

Abbie froze.  Her nipples were extremely sensitive. 'In your dreams, Hollywood.'

Jack’s low laugh sent a tremor against her naked flesh. With slow deliberation, he licked his way along her torso, paying particular attention to her belly button until she squirmed. His hot mouth continued its journey downward. She arched against him. 'Please … '

He pulled away. 'Don’t move.'

Abbie obeyed him instinctively, afraid that he would stop the stroking and touching. She felt his warm breath against her aching clit followed by a slow rasping lick. Abbie writhed as his tongue traced a circle around the little bundle of nerves. He gave a low rumble of pleasure as he tasted her and the sound vibrated against her clit sending a flash of pleasure spiraling through her. Abbie teetered on the edge of orgasm. Almost there.