Polished (17 page)

He growled a little—low, barely heard, but there.

Jack pulled the other bra strap from her arm and the entire lace contraption slid through the opening. She watched him fold it and tuck it into his breast pocket. Then without warning, he stepped in close once again and pinched her nipples hard between his thumb and index finger. The movement was quick and his hands were resting on her shoulders in one crashing beat of her heart.

“Everyone, please find your seats. Dinner is served.” The announcement came from a tight-mouthed woman atop the bandstand.

Rory shuddered from the fast and bright burn Jack’s pinches had left, and the way the silk of her dress grazed against her bare, sensitive nipples. She looked down at the pointed peaks outlined in garish detail under the thin fabric. Jack stepped aside and, with a firm hand between her shoulder blades, guided her toward the table they’d been assigned. It felt as if her nipples were leading the way.

Jack’s hand slid down to the small of her back, encouraging her to arch and walk erect. “No hiding,” he said with more pressure on her spine. She rolled her shoulders back, proud that she could find the strength to please him.

She was wet, too wet, soaking her panties and keenly aware of it now that her legs swished back and forth as she walked. From the moment he’d suggested—no, demanded—that she remove her bra and let everyone see her breasts jiggle and her nipples peak, she’d felt the first drops of arousal begin to mock her. She’d protested, but why? The idea clearly turned her on. It wasn’t like she’d never gone without a bra before. But somehow this was different, especially flagrant. People passed them, men and women alike, all of them compelled to look at the soft sway of her breasts under the fabric. With how pronounced her nipples were from Jack’s pinches, they just couldn’t be ignored. Rory’s cheeks were on fire, but she prevailed, feeling more giddy with each step she took.

Spencer pulled the chair back for her and Jack did the same for Spencer, placing himself between them at the table set for ten. Other guests sat down and nodded their introductions over an ethereal-looking glass centerpiece that reminded Rory of a fortune-teller’s crystal ball. It glowed from within and reflected the twinkle of lights above. Several bottles of wine and a myriad of drinking glasses crowded the table. The complicated place settings were awash in lavender and chocolate. It all looked so well-done, so posh and proper. Jack leaned over to Rory and smiled. “If you misbehave again, I’ll make you remove your panties as well.”

She bit her lip as a ripple of excitement coursed under her skin. Could she keep from misbehaving? The bigger question was whether she wanted to.

She shifted again in her seat, but nothing helped her feel less aware of the slick wetness between her legs. She excused herself and headed for the bathroom. When she looked over her shoulder she half expected one of the others to follow her. Jack was still in a deep, but rather dull conversation with one of the men across from him about the real estate market on Long Island, and Spencer toyed absently with the rim of his glass. She sniffed, not sure if she should be relieved or disappointed.

She stepped into the clubhouse, which was much more brightly lit than the tent. The urge to fold her arms over her chest clawed at her, but Rory resisted. There were rules—Jack’s rules. She wasn’t a cheat—and what’s more, she didn’t want to disappoint him. It was a little disconcerting how much that mattered to her.

The bathroom wasn’t hard to find. As she had expected, a small line of women gathered outside the door. Rory tapped her heel on the carpeted floor as she waited her turn, looking around at the framed pictures lining the walls. A shot of Jack and a man who had to be his father caught her eye. Jack was much younger, perhaps sixteen in the shot, in which they were being presented with some kind of plaque.

Inside the classically designed white marble and mahogany ladies’ room and sequestered in a stall, Rory tried to clean herself up some. Her phone rang from inside her clutch, but a check of the unrecognized number resulted in her sending it to voice mail. She hiked up her dress and eased her panties down, carefully pulling them over one strappy stiletto heel. Her phone rang again just as she perched her leg on the toilet seat. Same number.

“Oh hell,” she mumbled and accepted the call. “Hello?”

“Don’t you dare wash away any of that tasty juice you’ve got cooking under that dress.”

“Jack?” Spencer must have dialed for him.

“Tell me how wet you are.”

“Oh fuck, Jack.” Her knees quivered at the sound of his command.

“Stick your fingers inside and tell me.”

“Where are you?”

“Where I can say anything to you that I want without being heard.”

Rory ran a lone finger over the rim of her channel and lowered her voice. “I’m really slippery.”

“What do you say?”

“Thank you?” It sounded like a question, because it was.

“You don’t sound sure.”

“Thank you, Jack.”

“Come out here where I can see your cheeks turn all red when you say that.”

She bit her lip. “Where’s Spencer?”

“He’s standing right next to me. Are you coming out, or do I have to go in there and get you?”

“I’m coming.”

“Not yet sweetheart, but soon, I promise.”

She smiled at that. Somehow, the play on words didn’t sound trite from him. Maybe because she knew he was telling the truth.

She pressed her luck. “I just need to clean up a little bit.”

Jack laughed under his breath. “Oh, Rory. You know just how to push my buttons already.”

Rory beamed within the privacy of the stall.

“I warned you not to misbehave. You weren’t listening.”

Oh, she had been listening, all right. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re going to have to give up your panties for that.”

“I know.” Rory took a breath and slipped the lacy thong from her other ankle. Such a small scrap of fabric held so much psychological security. Tucked into her purse, its absence made her want to confess her every sin. She was exposed, raw and soaked all the way to her thighs.

“Jack?” she whispered.

“Yes?”

“Spencer has been curious about a threesome for a while now. I am too.”

“No doubt.”

“He needs you, Jack.” Rory swallowed. “He just doesn’t know how to ask.”

There was a moment of silence. She wondered if she’d gone too far.

“Then it’s a good thing I’ve fixed it so he doesn’t have to.”

Rory smiled. Yes, he’d taken care of that. She was getting the idea that he could be good at taking care of a lot of things. She smoothed down her dress and left the stall. Just outside the ladies’ room she found them both approaching.

“I don’t know how I’m going to make it through dinner,” Rory admitted as she walked between them back to their table.

Spencer chuckled softly, biting on his bottom lip. She imagined he was having the same problem. Dessert couldn’t come fast enough.

She suffered the steady thump-thump nagging in her clit while Jack insisted on drawing circles on her bare knee under the table. If that alone wasn’t enough to drive her mad, she had to deal with the mystery of what he might be doing to Spencer on his other side.

He didn’t creep an inch past her knee. She almost wished he would, almost hoped that he’d clear the table and ram his fingers into her flooding cunt, just to relieve the tension coiling like a snake ready to strike inside her womb. It was much, much too much. But somewhere in that thought was the certainty there was plenty more he had planned for them. That was a scarily thrilling notion.

She picked at her food, pushing the filet of sole from one side of her plate to the other. “Please, can we go?” She hadn’t meant to sound like she was begging. But, oh God she was.

Jack grinned, reading the dessert card. “Double chocolate cake and minted gelato; you don’t want to miss out on that, do you?”

Rory shook her head. “I’m on a diet.”

That got Jack’s attention. For a moment he looked like regular Jack, suddenly wrinkling his brow with concern. “Are you kidding?” He flashed Spencer an incredulous look. Spencer shook his head and shrugged, signaling his own frustration with the topic. What did men know anyway? The dimples that had started to form on her ass were all the proof she needed.

She repeated herself softly in the wake of his surprised expression. “I’m on a diet.”

Jack tilted his head and his eyebrow quirked before he leaned into her ear. “No. Not tonight. I will get to indulge you as I see fit. Do you understand?”

Her mouth opened just slightly with words of protest lost on her tongue.

“You are perfect. I know it. Spencer knows it. Tonight, you can just take our word for it.”

She nodded and was oddly grateful, not for the chocolate cake per se, but for his absolution. It was different under the cover of his unwavering control. If he said she was perfect, then for one night, maybe she was.

Jack asked for three pieces of cake to be packed up and bid a good evening to the faces he recognized as they left the party.

Chapter Twelve

The song playing on the car radio brought Spencer back to his high school prom. He and his baseball buddies had decided to share a limo that night. By two o’clock in the morning they were also sharing their dates. That had been a wild night. Funny how a simple song could trigger memories seldom recalled. Spencer squeezed Rory’s hand and brought it to his lips. The memory flickered and then there was only her and the adventure they were on.

“Are you OK?” she whispered.

He smiled and nodded. The whole silent thing was starting to feel kind of natural. Head bouncing to the beat, he relaxed into the backseat and tossed his arm on her shoulder while Jack drove them to his house. Being chauffeured should feel weird too, but he couldn’t speak, so he couldn’t protest. There was a sense of peace in all of it; he went with the flow.

Jack turned up the volume. “I used to love this song.”

Spencer suddenly imagined that “Magic Stick” would be a hell of a lot more significant after tonight.

They pulled into the driveway and Spencer felt the distinct flutter of nerves in his stomach. What did Jack have planned for them? He could pretend he hadn’t tried to guess, that he didn’t have a wish list of possibilities. Without his voice, he didn’t have the ability to question any of it. They got what they got. Something about that made his cock twitch for about the eightieth time that night.

Jack turned off the car. “Meet me in the kitchen and we’ll have some of that cake.”

Rory darted her gaze at him. “And then?”

Jack opened the car door and shut it without answering.

Rory and Spencer looked at each other and Spencer knew they were both feeling the same irresistible compulsion: follow. They walked up the stone-paved driveway, lingering a few steps behind Jack. Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do when you were being submissive? His guess was as good as any.

The whole thing should have freaked him out. He kept waiting to see if he’d want it all to stop. When Jack had taken him by the belt loop and led him to the car like a puppy dog, he should have tried to deck him. When he heard Jack whisper that he couldn’t wait to get him out of his pants, Spencer should have wanted to make him eat his words. But should-haves just didn’t seem to be a part of the equation. Instead, he was imagining stuffing something entirely different down Jack’s throat.

Rory turned to him as they walked. “You look incredibly handsome tonight, babe. Not sure I told you that.”

He would have returned the compliment, but he only shook his head and pointed back at her. She giggled a little and leaned on his shoulder, sounding like an excited little bird. His girl. She could have found the whole thing hilarious, but he was sure it wasn’t that kind of giggle. Those shining eyes of hers were miles past mere amusement. He’d be willing to bet her stomach had the same twisty, tickly sensation going on.

Jack opened the door and disappeared down the hall. Rory started to head to their room, but Spencer reached for her arm, stopping her, and pointed toward the kitchen.

“I just need to pee,” she whispered. “I’ll be right back.”

Spencer shook his head and brushed one finger over another in that universal sign for shame on you. He shot her a lopsided grin and she stuck her tongue out at him, just as playful. “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do!” She scurried away, leaving Spencer waiting alone against the island.

They’d left the light on over the pristine, commercial-grade stove, which washed the expansive room in a dim glow. Spencer tapped his fingers absently on the granite counter as he watched the moon reflect off the ocean through the windows that lined the rear of the home. Jack joined him before Rory returned.

“You think that will hold?” Jack said as he pointed to the pot rack above the island where Spencer was leaning.

Spencer looked up and then back at Jack. His confusion must have showed on his face.

Jack stepped closer still. “Do you think it will hold you?”

Spencer felt his stomach clench with the sudden rush of excitement. He pressed his lips together and shrugged. Oh fuck, he’d like to find out.

Jack reached up and took his tie off, pulling it slowly from his neck. Then he reached for Spencer’s tie to do the same. The mere touch of Jack’s fingers, busy with the maneuvers of undoing his knot, lit his skin on fire under his clothes. He wrapped both ends in his fists and pulled Spencer’s head closer to him in a show of domination that had Spencer holding his breath.

Inches—that’s all there was between them. Spencer gritted his teeth and gripped the edge of the counter. It took everything in him not to lean into the small space between them and kiss Jack. He didn’t. He couldn’t.

“Take down your pants, Spencer.”

It was a simple request, said plainly enough. Obliging could be just as simple—no questions, no protests, no nothing from his lips. Spencer loosened his belt buckle, button, and zipper, and then listened as their jangle cut into the silence when they hit the tiled floor. He did it without argument, simply because he had been told to. There he stood in his boxer briefs, his erection at full staff, jutting forth like a captive straining to be released.