Night Beach (6 page)

She’d feared it would be bland, tasteless, but instead it
was delicious, obviously fresh baked, and fair melted on her tongue. He tore
off another piece, holding it above her once more. She moved to kneel up again,
but a sharp shake of his head stopped her.

“Present your breasts.”

“What? I don’t …”

“Use your hands, Erica.”

Cupping her breasts, she held them up to him, the globes
quivering in her unsteady hands.

“That’s it. Very good.” He placed the piece in her mouth,
the back of his hand caressing the warmth of her cheek.

There was a soft knock and Ana stepped in, a hand wrapped
around the door. Erica tried to stand, but Blaine’s hand clamped her head to
his thigh. She thought better of struggling against him, and instead hid her
face against his slacks, her arms wrapped around him.

Ana cleared her throat. “Sorry to disturb you, Sir. Mrs.
Forster called to say she’d be late.”

“Thank you, Ana. You can go to bed now, if you want. I’ll
lock up.” Erica could feel the smug maid’s gaze on the round, bare ass pressed
to her naked feet. “Is there anything I can … get for you, while I’m here,
Sir?”

The bitch. No!

“No, I think we’re good,” Blaine said, mirth in his voice.
“Thank you, Ana.”

“Good night, Sir.” A pause, her voice raised for effect.
“Good night, Erica.”

Erica wanted to crawl into the floor, through to the center
of the earth. But first, she wanted to murder Ana.

Blaine
growled, his hand
tightening on her hair.

“Good night, Ana,” she mumbled, as if chewing on broken
glass.

“Oh wait, Ana?” His palm caressed the crown of Erica’s
head. “There is something.”

“Sir?”

Erica could claw the woman’s eyes out at the blatant
eagerness in her tone. The slut.

He’s mine.

It was insane for her to feel jealous about a man, who essentially,
owned Erica — and who was himself married to another woman. However, love — and
lust — rarely made sense. She could accept it though, and she knew she’d do
everything and anything to make Ana accept it too if the tarted up maid touched
one
hair
on her Sir.

Erica knew he’d probably punish her for such thoughts, but luckily,
he wasn’t able to get inside her head — yet.

“Do you know where the arm binder is? The leather one?”

“I think so,” Ana said, hesitation plain in the maid’s
voice. “In the … room, Sir.”

No, no.

“Okay, good. Bring it to me along with that black cloth I
left draped over the end of the horse.” Blaine used his grip to turn Erica’s
face up, her eyes reluctantly meeting his. Something danced in the depths of
his gaze, and a shiver shook her body. He grinned down at her.

“Might as well bring the hobble too, Ana. This girl needs
it.”

***

The breathing of the soft, beautiful body curled up next to
him had settled, sleep claiming the girl whom he feared he’d become
increasingly fixated upon. Blaine shifted her body a little, adjusting the
position of her head, her warm cheek laid upon his shoulder. She wasn’t used to
sleeping with her arms bound, so he wanted to keep her as comfortable as
possible. The girl had a long night still ahead of her.

He’d been surprised when she’d fallen asleep shortly after
securing her in her bonds. Her trembling was such as he’d fitted her arms into
the binder, that he thought she might dissolve into tears, plead with him to
leave off. Luckily, she hadn’t. Instead, she’d endured the vulnerability of the
arm binder, the way it blatantly presented her luscious breasts, displayed
those long nipples of hers his fingers could never resist pinching into aching
hardness. Surprisingly, the blindfold seemed to calm her, her tight lips loosening,
opening, calling to his mouth to kiss, to take. Her whole body softened, the
tension melting from her muscles, and no longer resisting, she’d allowed him to
draw her into his arms.

Surrender.

It’s what he craved from her. It was still hard for her, but
that very difficulty added the sweetness to it that he savored. That moment of
realization that she was truly helpless, entirely subject to him and his whims.
Lying there in that massive bed, the same bed he’d shared with his wife
countless nights, his thoughts wandered. He wanted more, so much more. A
beautiful, introverted college girl, at once unassuming and compelling, he’d
been fascinated by her fresh, fearless embrace of her needs. It was a quality
entirely unlike someone of her youth, and it drew him — and Kathryn — to her.
But he still wondered if Erica was truly ready for it, fully prepared for what
he’d soon expect from her — if the night went according to plan.

Blaine
knew he wanted
her the first moment he’d set eyes on her. That scared, but obviously eager
girl sitting uncomfortably in the midst of all those strangers, awash in the
bright whites of the light display. She’d looked almost angelic, a purity of
spirit in those pretty eyes. But the thoughts that shapely body of hers had
evoked in him were decidedly
impure
.

She stirred against him, the chain of her hobble clicking
softly as she moved her ankles.

“Shh, girl,” he murmured, placing a kiss on her cheek.
“It’s okay, sleep now.”

Her lips moved in that uncertain way those who dream have,
the words formed in that twilight mind, but not transmitted completely to the
mouth, to the means of expression. Blaine kissed those lips into stillness.

As much as he loved holding the helpless Erica next to him,
listening to her breathing, something was missing.

His wife.

She’d been the one to first propose the idea, and he’d shot
it down immediately. Why do it when they were both already so happy?

His hand stroked the hair away from Erica’s eyes, his thumb
tracing a dark eyebrow. Now he knew she’d been right; she’d nailed it,
actually. Would there be jealousy? Could there be a chance sometime in the
future that one would be favored over another? Certainly, there was a
chance.

But the one in danger of feeling left out wasn’t whom he’d
thought it might be.

The door opened, whispering along the thick pile carpet. a
figure strolling into the darkness of the room. The streetlamps from the road
below cast a ghostly light through the huge windows, partially illuminating the
otherwise dark room.

“How’s our little slave girl?”

Blaine
grinned, easing
his arm out from under the bound, slumbering Erica. “I didn’t think you’d be
back until late.”

His wife stepped fully into the light, her hands working in
her hair. Her tight, tailored gray suit, while itself an almost masculine
affectation, nevertheless perfectly accentuated her slim, willowy figure. “I
had James fly me out of there early. Did you know he’s got a girl in Vancouver? He was quite
amenable
to getting me to Portland as fast as possible.”
Kathryn smiled. “He just about flew the wings off that thing.”

“I’m glad you’re back,” Blaine said, rolling gingerly from
the bed, hoping he wouldn’t wake the beautiful, constrained nude curled over
the blankets. He pulled on the warm-ups, the cotton cool against his skin. Striding
to Kathryn, he wrapped his arms around her, tasting her lips after much too
long. “Missed you.”

She kissed him back, angling her hips against him, his cock
stirring. “She didn’t wear you out I see.” Her hand closed around him, stroking
slowly, knowingly. ”My insatiable husband.”

“Someone needs to be reminded of her place.”

Kathryn tilted her head, giving him an exaggerated flutter
of eyelashes. “I’d say she’s well aware of her place.”

“I wasn’t talking about Erica,” he rumbled.

Yes, it had been much too long for many things. He used to
obsess about when he’d next get his hands on his gorgeous, bewitching wife.
Imagine the color and shape of the weals his whip would raise over her ass, her
anguished cries filling the air. All of it culminating in the animal, primal
energy of their fucking, taking her the way a woman like her needed, her body
yielding to his lusts.

Deep blue eyes flashed at him, her smile faltering just a
tiny bit. “Let’s get a drink.”

His hand caught her arm as she moved past him toward the
bar. “Not here. Let her sleep a while. She’s tired.”

Kathryn allowed him to reel her back into his arms, and he
kissed her cheeks, her eyelids. Her scent was something he’d never cease to
enjoy. She always smelled so good — even after a nonstop from Bismarck to Portland. He worked the jacket off, his hands itching to reacquaint themselves with her
flesh.

His flesh.

Slipping out of his grasp, she sauntered to the door,
looking back at him as she finally loosened her hair, the golden mass of it
falling all about her face. “Outside,” she whispered, and disappeared down the
hall.

Ana, dressed in only her diaphanous nightgown, met him at
the door. The dark surrounds of her nipples beneath the sheer fabric were
plainly visible in the hallway light, and Blaine tore his gaze away from them
to look back at the bound beauty slumbering on his bed.

The buxom maid’s brow furrowed. “Everything okay, Sir?”

“Leave her there until she wakes,” he said, laying a finger
along a soft olive cheek, bringing her gaze up to his. “When she does, give her
whatever she needs — but this door stays locked when you’re finished.
Understand?”

Ana lowered her gaze, her hands clasped in front of her
thighs. “Of course, Sir.” The dark nipples hardened under Blaine’s gaze, and he
considered taking Ana out to the deck with him and Kathryn. It would not have
been the first time they had pressed their maid into other … duties.

He kissed the mass of Ana's dark hair, then went searching
for his wayward wife.

***

The night air smelled faintly of sea and sulfur, the locals
already lighting off a wealth of fireworks all around them. Kathryn sipped from
her wine, her glass dangling in her long fingers, her slender, yet shapely
figure leaning over, elbows poised on the black wrought iron of the railing. Strands
of long hair blew about in the breeze, the wildness of it such a contrast to
her normal compact, tightly controlled state.

His hand stroked lazily over the curve of her ass, so
nicely displayed in the tight slacks. “You’ve gotta be beat, Kathryn. We don’t
need to do this tonight, you know.”

Her gaze turned up to him, her face only partially
illuminated by the streetlamps below. “I’m ready. We’re ready.”

Blaine
shrugged, leaning
his hip against the railing. He moved his hand up her back and submerged it in
the heavy tresses. She moaned, arching her head up as he massaged her scalp.

“Maybe, maybe not.” he said. “What makes you so sure?”

“God, that’s fucking
amazing,
Blaine.”

“I aim to please,” he murmured. He grasped her nape in a
firm grip, her body tensing. “But answer the question.”

She looked at him again, smiling. “Why do you play games
like this? I know how much you want her. It’s plain to see.”

“You want her every bit as much as I do.” He wondered some
days if she might actually prefer the young innocent to her own husband.
Perhaps it was simply infatuation — it wasn’t as if he weren’t guilty of his
share of obsessing over the fetching girl.

“Mm hmm,” she murmured. “And your point?”

Blaine
pulled her head
up, forcing Kathryn to straighten. “You forget yourself, wife.”

She caught her breath, her sparkling eyes searching his.
“Make me remember, Blaine.”

He kissed her, spinning her around and slamming her back
against the dark wood siding. She dropped the glass to the deck, wetness
splashing against his foot. He forced his leg between hers, the heat of her
cunt raised up on the hard muscles of his thigh. Her hands reached for his face
and he batted them away, clutching them in one fist. He wrenched her head to
the side, exposing the whiteness of her delicate throat to him.

She gasped as his lips found her soft flesh, nipped her
skin. “When this is over tonight, you and I.” He caught a soft breast in his
hand, squeezing brutally, her whimper drowned in his mouth. “We’re going to
help remind you where you stand in this marriage.”

“Why not now,” she breathed, twisting her hips, grinding
her heat into his thigh. “Show me.”

Blaine
’s quelling finger
pressed to her lips. “That’s for me to decide, woman.” He extricated his leg,
to a disappointed murmur. “First, we need to talk.”

Kathryn’s gaze dropped to the wet planks. “Now that’s a
waste of some good Malbec.”

Blaine
crossed his arms
over his chest, his skin breaking out in gooseflesh in the cool night breeze.
“You’re sure about this?”

Kathryn blew out a breath, both hands grasping the rail.
The wind caught her hair, twirling it like an ephemeral windsock for a moment.
“Yes. Can’t you see?”