Sackmaster (3 page)

He’d sworn off commitments after enduring
the humiliation, but he wasn’t about to swear off women. Since he’d been in
Savannah, he’d trimmed his horns once a week or so with the club subs at
Rebels’ Roost. And he’d sort of fulfilled his fantasy a while back when Dottie,
one of the subs, had let him clipper-shave her head while she gave him head.
He’d pulled out of her mouth and come all over her stubbly scalp, and it had
felt damn good.

“Okay. So I have a hair fetish. Sort of.”
There, he’d finally acknowledged it aloud, if only to himself. And some folks
might think he was weird because of it, but there were crazier fetishes. Like
getting off while your sub was encased in a latex body suit with holes for her
cunt, ass and mouth. Or dripping wax on your slave’s most sensitive places. Or
needing your sub to wear stilettos while you fucked her. Jimmy recalled that
Dom at the club in Chicago who couldn’t make it with his sub unless she was
dolled up like an infant, complete with oversized diaper. As fetishes went,
Jimmy figured his was nothing he needed to worry about. Although…

Gunning the engine, he pulled back onto the
highway and headed toward his nearly finished house on the Intracoastal
Waterway. As he drove, he realized he really had a thing for Julie—if that was
his bald obsession’s name.

* * * * *

He’d looked at her as though he wanted to
eat her alive. The huge, incredibly hot guy in the elevator this morning had to
have been at least six feet seven or eight. Unlike ninety-nine percent of men,
he was tall enough so she could wear stilettos and he’d still tower over her.
Chestnut hair, shaggy and longish, framed a symmetrical face no one would
mistake for feminine even if he got rid of the neatly trimmed mustache and
goatee. What impressed her most about his features were those dark-brown eyes
that seemed to look right through to her soul.

He had muscles on his muscles. A pro
football player with the Savannah Rebels, her neighbor, Susan Zanardi, had told
her when she’d described him to her. A defensive end—whatever that was—Jimmy
Bronson had been traded to the Rebels during this off-season from one of the
Chicago teams. Susan should know since she was married to the Rebels’ head
coach who looked young and fit enough that Julie was surprised he wasn’t a player.

She stretched out in the tub, said Jimmy’s
name out loud. The image of the big guy stayed firmly in her mind. She reached
up, ran her fingers through her freshly shampooed hair, imagined it gone again
as it would be as of next month.

Yesterday Rick Hecht, her foolish agent,
had practically stumbled over himself apologizing because the client, an
internationally famous cosmetics manufacturer, wanted another session with her
sans
hair. He’d even pointed out that he’d managed to get her a huge bonus for going
bald again, this time for ads touting the company’s new age-defying serum, and
that he’d insisted the photo shoot be done right here in Savannah so she
wouldn’t have to travel to New York City.

She laughed out loud. Rick wouldn’t have
believed her if she told him how much she’d gotten off, touching her naked
scalp, or that she’d often fantasized about shaving herself smooth again for
her own pleasure.

Visualizing shots from the original layout
that now appeared in magazines and on billboards all over the country, Julie
smiled. Apparently customers liked those first images since the scent called
Emerald Seduction was flying off department store shelves. She doubted those
customers got turned on by the perfume as much as she had when she’d felt her
silky skin beneath her fingers, from the top of her head to the tips of her
scarlet-tinted toes.

Maybe I’ll just stay bald for a while
this time.
Admittedly, it was a pain to don a wig
every time she left her condo. Not to mention the inconvenience of having to shave
her head almost every day to keep it smooth. But the incredible sensations…
They offset a lot of the downside. Almost all the downside, other than the fact
that her baldness would probably scare away a potential lover.

Jimmy Bronson?
She rotated the small gold hoops that dangled from her nipples,
imagining it was the huge football player’s calloused fingers brushing against
that sensitive flesh. Her clit swelled against its own tiny ring and made her
tingle with anticipation.

Not for her dildo, though. For the first
time in a long, long time Julie wanted a flesh-and-blood cock. And she knew
just whose that was. Susan had mentioned that Jimmy worked out in the gym
downstairs most evenings between nine and eleven o’clock. If Julie hurried, she
might run into him.

Quickly she dried off, pulled on her
workout clothes and sat in front of the mirror to dry her hair. Grinning at her
image, she added a quick application of makeup. After all, the guy she wanted
to seduce was probably used to women closer to his own age, which she imagined
was somewhere in the mid-twenties. Best to put her best face forward and do it
now, before she’d have to go bald for the new photo shoot.

* * * * *

He could hardly believe his luck. There,
framed in the fitness center’s entryway door, was the woman who’d been lurking
in his dreams.

“Hi, I’m Julie Silver,” she said as she
held out a soft hand with long, red nails Jimmy imagined raking his back while
he fucked her. Nearly six feet tall in her running shoes, she was the perfect
height for him. He wouldn’t have to contort his nearly six-foot-eight-inch body
to match up the essential parts with those of a pocket-size lover. The way he’d
had to do with his ex-wife and practically every other woman he’d ever played
with.

Those gorgeous green eyes glittered when
she gave him the once-over. She made him feel like a chick magnet, and he liked
it. “I’m Jimmy Bronson. Want to go out for a drink after we finish working
out?” he asked her once he managed to find his voice.

“How about going up to my place? I think I
can put together something for us to nibble on.” She spoke low, soft and
inviting—and smooth. Her tongue darted out and moistened lips he was already
imagining would taste as sweet as honey.

“Nibble?” He’d like to nibble on her, but
he figured it might be a little too soon for that. “I usually take my food in
great big bites.”

She laughed. “I’m sure you do. But I think
I’ve got what it takes to keep you from starving.”

I’m sure you do, beautiful. And it won’t
involve us going anywhere near your kitchen.
“Okay.
I’m game. I’m almost finished with my routine.” He forced himself to follow his
list, do two more sets of bench presses while she looked on.

Chapter Two

Once inside her condo Jimmy’s gaze settled
on the nude, life-size, full-body shot above Julie’s mantel. His mouth went
slack. “You’re the woman in the ads for that perfume. I wondered when I saw you
in the elevator this morning.”

She hoped his wide-eyed look reflected
anything except shock, or maybe revulsion. “Guilty. The photographer liked that
pose best. It bothered him that the advertiser didn’t choose it, so he enlarged
it and gave me a copy. Like it?” Hardly embarrassed by her nudity, having been
in the modeling business for years, she sent up a silent prayer that he wasn’t taken
aback by it—or by her in-your-face bald head.

“Yeah. I like it. A lot. Ever since I first
saw one of those perfume ads I’ve been determined to find and meet you. You’re
one gorgeous woman, but you know that, don’t you?”

She shrugged then shot him a full-fledged
smile. “I’m not so sure, but I’ve heard it before. Conceit becomes an
occupational hazard when you’ve been in the modeling business as long as I
have. Can I get you a drink?”

“Water, please.”

The hot way he looked at her made her think
he didn’t want anything to dull his senses. Neither did she. She pulled out two
bottles of Perrier, poured some from each bottle into cut-crystal stemmed
glasses. If her instincts were right, she’d want to recall every minute, too.
She hoped Jimmy would like the real woman as much as he seemed to be enthralled
by her images in the ads for Emerald Seduction. “Want to share some secrets?”
she asked as she sat beside him, thigh to thigh.

“Sure. I’ve got a Fathead on my bedroom
wall. Nothing as classy as your portrait, but I guess you could say it’s just
as narcissistic since it’s a big plastic me wearing a Rebels uniform. They sent
it to me to approve after I posed for the master last month.”

“Hmmm. Maybe I’d like one of those for my
wall, too. The one in my bedroom.” Actually Julie was pretty sure she wanted
Jimmy in all three dimensions, commanding her pleasure. “You know you’re pretty
awesome.”

He laid a huge hand on her thigh, squeezed.
“I try. Not just on the football field, either.”

“Show me?”

“Oh, yeah.” For such big hands, his were
gentle when he clasped hers then slid them up her bare arms. “I like silky
smooth skin on a woman. And I can hardly wait to play with those cute little
rings in your nipples. They are for real, aren’t they?” He glanced at the
portrait again, grinned.

“Yes sir, they’re real. Just waiting for
you to play. I like big, strong men who’re into dominating their woman. You
seem like a take-charge sort of guy.” She took his hand, noticed his long
fingers and short, neatly trimmed nails as she laid it over her breast. The
heat of his big hand made her flesh tingle. “I bet you’re into BDSM games. Am I
right?”

“Uh-huh. How’d you know?”

“Just a feeling.” She wouldn’t mention how
she’d spent a good many years in the BDSM scene with her ex. Not yet, anyway.

“You’re right. I’m a Dom. And, beautiful
lady, I’ve got a fetish I’ve recently discovered.” Gently he found her nipple
beneath her clothes, tweaked the ring. “By the way, I love playing with a
woman’s nipple rings.”

A fetish? Was it possible he meant seeing
her bald head in the ads turned him on? Or was that wishful thinking? Her
nipple hardened under his sensuous play, and her pulse raced. “I’ve got a ring
in my clit, too, but you can’t see it, the way the photographer posed me for
that portrait. Tell me what you’d like to do to me, assuming you have me
willing to become your obedient slave.”

He grinned. “I’ll devour every inch of you
with my hands and mouth. Delight in your satin skin, your hard little nipples
and your pink, naked cunt. I’ll fuck you until neither of us can walk. And when
I claim you as my slave, I’ll mark you somewhere nobody else but me will ever
see.” He paused, lowered his voice to a husky whisper. “Someday if you’ll let
me, I’ll shave your head again. Not for an ad this time, but for my own
pleasure…and yours.”

Her heart beat faster, and her breathing
grew shallow as she imagined him doing what so far had been done to her
impersonally, by strangers. Moisture pooled between her legs. She couldn’t
remember ever having been so aroused, so quickly. “I want you to kiss me now,
please.”

“My pleasure.” He claimed her mouth, softly
at first then harder, more insistently. His tongue teased her lips then delved
inside, seeking. His arms tightened around her, pressing her nipples to the
muscular wall of his chest and making them tingle. Though he hadn’t touched her
below the waist, her clit hardened and her pussy gushed with anticipation.

Then he scooped her up and carried her to
her bedroom as if she weighed nothing. “I want you naked,” he ordered when he
set her down and tore off his shoes and clothes.

Omigod. He’s huge all over. And he’s
gorgeous.

Naked, Jimmy took her breath away. Not an
ounce of fat marred his massive, muscular body. Tanned, with a sprinkling of
light-brown hair from neck to ankle, he had two elaborate tattoos. One was a
monochrome Celtic-knot band that circled his left upper arm, the other an
identical design that encircled the cleanly shaved base of his long, thick
cock. The body art drew her gaze to the pulsating, blue-veined shaft and
mouthwatering, plum-colored head. God, just looking at his beautiful cock made
her pussy contract.

Her mouth watered when she imagined herself
taking him in her mouth, licking and sucking him like a giant, succulent
lollipop. His sac hung loose, and because his crotch was shaved smooth, his
testicles were plainly evident—two large oval orbs framed between hard-muscled
thighs as thick as tree trunks. She couldn’t help pausing to gawk at his
incredibly hot body.

He grabbed some plastic-wrapped condoms
from his wallet and tossed them on the bedside table. “Take off your clothes.
Now.” His tone brooked no disobedience. The sound of his deep, authoritative
voice made her juices gush as she struggled to peel down her tights and
carefully slip off her Lycra workout top so she wouldn’t disturb her makeup.
“Omigod, yeah. There’s nothing I like better than nibbling a satiny smooth
cunt.”

“Really? I suspect you might like nibbling
a smooth scalp better.” She wanted to shock him, find out for sure if he shared
her personal kink. Smiling, she slid her fingers through her hair, pretended
she was about to lift off a wig.

“What the fuck?” His eyes seemed glued to
her hair, and the words came out harsh, guttural. She brought her hands to her
sides, saw his disappointed look.

“No such luck, at least right now. It’s
been over a year since they shot the pictures for those ads.” Raising her hand
back to her head, she stepped forward, offered him the lock from between her
fingers. “I have another photo shoot scheduled for next month, though. If you
want to, you can be the one to shave me for it. I doubt many men would get off
doing that, but I have a feeling you might. I know I would.” Imagining him
taking her hair in what she pictured as her ultimate act of submission was
incredibly arousing.