Michele Zurlo (7 page)

Jonas leaned close. “Uncomfortable?”

“A little. An orgasm would help relieve some of the tension.” She managed a cheeky, suggestive smile, though she felt more desperate than anything else.

He got that look on his face that sent her pulse rocking. She recognized that her husband and the father of her children was gone, replaced by this handsome Dom who inspired both longing and a little anxiety. This wasn’t a role he played. It was too substantial and real to be an assumed identity. This was a part of him that he’d kept hidden for most of the first year of their marriage. He hadn’t been afraid she’d reject it. On the contrary, he’d been afraid she would like that part of him better than the rest.

While she loved this part of him, her affection for her Dom was equal to her love for all the other facets of his personality. She loved him too much to stick him into a simplified category.

He expertly removed the clip holding her hair in a neat twist at the nape of her neck and deposited it into his pocket. Then he ran his fingers through the strands until it streamed down her back and over her shoulders. She’d once cut it short, and he’d forbidden her from ever doing that again.

“If you’re very good, I might remove that belt later. For now it stays put. You’ll have an orgasm if and when I decide. Do you understand?”

She nodded, answering his unspoken question as well as the one he actually asked. No orgasm would be forthcoming any time soon, and there was nothing she could do or say to change that fact. He was in charge, and her body was his to use as he pleased. It only made her wetter. The vibrator slipped the smallest bit to one side, but it didn’t ease her ache.

The tables were arranged around the periphery of the room. In the center, two steps took diners down to a place where pillows were arranged in small piles. Doms and Dommes sat on several of them. Slaves knelt on the floor nearby. Some of them fed their Masters or Mistresses and were fed in return. Others simply sat in their submissive positions, waiting for instructions. One female slave was being paddled by her Master as another slave looked on.

Sabrina gazed longingly at the paddle. Jonas almost never used one. He preferred to spank with his hand, or he’d work her over with his flogger. Sometimes he got out the massage table and lightly caned her. It wasn’t the paddle she craved, but desperation for any kind of relief sounded good right about now.

A waiter dressed in the bright shirt and khaki shorts favored by the resort employees brought a bread bowl filled with lentil soup. He set two bowls directly on the table, deposited a napkin and spoon, and left. A waitress appeared on her other side. She set down terra-cotta glasses filled with water. No alcoholic beverages were allowed on the island, as kinky play required a clear head and clear consent.

Sabrina thanked both servers, and they melted away to serve the next couple. Jonas turned off the vibrator.

“In ancient Greece, they didn’t have forks, but they did have spoons. The used bread to pick up finger foods and to wipe their hands afterward. Those pieces were tossed to the floor where the dogs got to finish them off.” Jonas offered this information, she knew, because she had an issue with the fact the food was set directly on the table.

“Good. I’m not eating the bread on the bottom.” The bowl wasn’t huge. It was meant to be the first course.

The second course consisted of a salad. Feta, Kalamata olives, cucumber, chickpeas, sun-dried tomatoes, and baby spinach were finely chopped and covered with some kind of dressing. It tasted great with the flatbread on which it was served. She was getting over the plate thing.

By the time the main course came around, she was stuffed. The delicately seasoned calamari tempted her for two bites. The moment she gave up on eating, the vibrating began again. She groaned and leaned her forehead on his shoulder.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He snagged a piece of her calamari and popped it into his mouth. “Immensely. I love when the food is this good and I didn’t have to cook it.”

As a rule, he didn’t let her near the kitchen except to clean up. Even then, they had a housekeeper to help out with those chores. Sabrina had become the senior vice president in charge of marketing for Rife and Company. It left her little time to attend to shopping and cleaning. When she wasn’t at work, she devoted all of her time to her family.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

He wasn’t the kind of Dom who had a problem with attitude or a strong personality, so she didn’t worry about retribution. Generally, he did whatever he wanted whether or not she behaved. The only thing he insisted upon was something that invariably made her blush. She did not like to use graphic language. He found this amusing, and it was the one thing he consistently held over her.

His shoulder shook slightly as he chuckled. “It’ll get better.”

Workers folded back doors on three sides of the cavernous room, and a warm breeze drifted through, carrying with it the perfume of tropical flowers. The sun sank low on the horizon. A million colors streaked above the beautiful gardens outside. It stole her breath, momentarily making her forget the need growing more acute by the second.

“I’m so glad you brought me here.”

He didn’t answer. When she managed to tear her gaze from the spectacular display of nature’s resplendence, she found him watching her, an expression of infinite tenderness on his face.

He leaned down, and she shifted to greet his lips. What started as an expression of affection and love quickly heated. She opened her mouth, urging him to stake a deeper claim. He obliged, pulling her onto his lap to hold her closer. She melted into his embrace and rubbed her thigh against his erection. If he was as horny as she, then she had a chance of seducing him into taking off the belt and satisfying their desires.

She ran her hands up his chest and gripped his shoulders hard. Her fingers dug into his muscles, but she didn’t bother to temper her reaction. This was no place to hold back.

It didn’t take long for him to pry her hands away. He broke the kiss and held up his hand, motioning to one of the servers.

“Restraints, please.”

“What kind, Sir? I have metal handcuffs and neoprene wrist cuffs with snaps.” He spoke as if he were naming the dessert options.

Sabrina silently prayed for the wrist cuffs. Handcuffs dug in too much when she struggled against them. The neoprene might leave a red mark or two, but they didn’t bruise or restrict her circulation.

In seconds, the server produced the softer cuffs. Jonas fastened them with the Velcro straps and snapped them together behind her back. The juices between her legs started coming faster.

He pushed the front of her dress lower, tucking it under her breasts. He closed a hand over one globe and fondled it lazily. Then he glanced up at the server. “This will do. Thank you. Is that baklava for dessert?”

The young man nodded. “We have six kinds. Would you like a variety platter?”

“Sounds great.”

Though the exchange hadn’t lasted for too long, Jonas had alternated kneading her breast and grazing his palm over her hardened nipple while they talked. Sabrina quivered in his lap. She was so wet she wondered if the vibrator might slip out.

Jonas might have had the same thought. He slipped a finger under the edge of the belt nearest her mons and pushed it back into place. Then he cranked it up a notch higher.

The server brought the baklava on an earthenware platter, thank the Gods, so she didn’t have to worry about that lack. Not that she planned to eat. Food was the last thing on her mind. She rested her head against Jonas’s shoulder and closed her eyes. It focused the sensation, but it was useless to ignore it right now anyway.

Jonas munched the baklava and struck up a conversation with the couple across the table. Sabrina had barely noticed them before. She’d taken note of the other people at the table, but she hadn’t paid them too much mind. Part of what she liked about being the submissive in the relationship was the absence of the expectation that she would be outgoing. Jonas was the extroverted half of their pair. She liked that about him.

Just now it was driving her nuts. She wanted him to shut up and fuck her. If she told him that, especially if she insisted, he would not take it well. It was one thing for her to sass him when the conversation was between the two of them. It was quite another for her to do it in front of others, doubly taboo after he’d established their roles for the night.

So she suffered through an excruciating half hour while he caressed her skin, played with her breasts, and alternated changes in vibrator speed with brief respites. In time, the sunlight dimmed and servers fired just enough sconces to keep people from tripping over one another.

Jonas feathered his fingers through her hair one more time and turned her face to capture her lips. Sabrina moaned and accepted him into her mouth, but she didn’t move. Her limbs were heavy with need, and her wrists were still bound behind her back. She felt drugged and damp, his puppet to control however he wished.

“Let’s walk through the gardens on the way back. You’ve been very well behaved, honey. When we get to the suite, I’m going to tie you to the bed and make slow love to you.”

“Yes, please.” Her voice scratched in her throat and sounded husky with desire. She was a little surprised he didn’t plan to take her right there, as more than a few couples were doing at that moment, but she wasn’t about to argue with a scenario that left her mostly clothed in public and still guaranteed satisfaction.

He unclipped the snaps holding her cuffs together and helped her stand up. Then he lifted the hem of her knee-length dress and removed the chastity belt. His hands were cool on her skin. His fingertips brushed lightly against her, but he didn’t seek more substantial contact. The warm air felt cool next to the heat trapped between her legs. She inhaled at the sudden temperature difference even as she luxuriated in that small relief.

She wanted to fix the top of her dress, but she knew better than to try. He wanted her breasts exposed. It was his way of flaunting his possessions, only she felt his sentiment was now a little misplaced. Her girls weren’t quite as perky as they’d once been.

Her accessories disappeared into one of his many pockets. A fleeting wish that he would leave the curved vibrator out came and went. It would fit in the palm of his hand, but she wasn’t in the mood for his hand. She’d had enough foreplay. She wanted to feel his cock filling her and his hips pounding against her thighs until she passed out.

He held her hand and led her on a slow stroll. Sabrina vaguely noted the statues and sculptures as they passed by. Most of them had ground lights strategically placed to illuminate the artistic detail. Muffled moans and cries drifted through the air, taunting her and making her anticipate the fulfillment of Jonas’s promise that much sooner.

As they neared the place where the path split in three directions, Jonas came to an abrupt halt. Sabrina didn’t think he was lost. The sign pointing to their building utilized reflective paint and a small floodlight. She turned to face him, her eyebrows drawn in confusion.

He shoved at her hip, forcing her to take quick steps backward to keep up with him. Her heart beat faster, and she recognized the dangerous glint in his tawny eyes. Cream trickled down her inner thigh. She couldn’t say why, exactly, but when he got physical with her like this, she lost all control. He set off a primitive response she had long ago given up trying to master.

She followed his cues, blindly trusting him as she walked backward, until she came up against something solid, a hard line across her lower back. A brief glance over her shoulder showed it was one of the many statues. This one featured a servant holding an empty tray. From the way Jonas had positioned her, it looked like she was now on the menu.

He deposited her on the stone tray, pushed her legs apart, and pulled her body tight against his as he ravaged her mouth with a hungry kiss. He fisted a hand in her hair and squeezed hard, bringing a light sheen of tears to her eyes. It hadn’t really hurt, but she didn’t have control over anything, much less automatic, biological responses.

Then he broke away from her lips, trailing his mouth down the column of her throat and over her bare breasts. Back and forth, he teased her nipples by sucking them into his mouth in hard, brief bursts. Mindlessly she ground her pussy against him, offering everything he could possibly want.

“Please. Please. Please.” She begged, hoping he'd take her soon. Reaching between them, she did her best to grip his cock. She rubbed her hand up and down his erection, unsatisfied that she couldn’t get into his shorts for skin-to-skin contact.

“Please what?” He barely paused in his torture to ask the question.

She knew where this was heading. If she didn’t say the words, he’d play with her. He’d keep her on the edge until she gave in. If he hadn’t kept her in a state of high arousal all through the leisurely dinner, she would have played the game. She would have tried to see how long she could hold out.

But she had no willpower. “Please fuck me. Hard, fast, soft, slow, however you want. Only please fuck me.”

He eased back, putting a little bit of distance between them, and allowed her to unfasten his shorts. “Guide me inside you.”

Sweeter words were never spoken. She took him greedily and reveled in the way she felt whole and complete once he was buried deep.