By Appointment Only (11 page)

Shaun stumbled to the bed, afraid to touch her, but unable to stay away. He put one knee on the bed, absently stroking his cock. God, he ached. Even the light touch of his own fingers was almost too much stimulation.

Danita watched him, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright. Sitting there half clothed, she looked erotically lovely. Carnal. Available.

As he sprawled at the foot of the bed, he took the ankle nearest him and pulled it toward him, deliberately widening her legs. He bent and licked her ankle bone. Then he used his tongue to trace a path upward to her knee.

He stopped there and sat up, making sure her eyes were locked on his. Without breaking their visual connection, he reached beneath her skirt and found her panties. It shocked him to feel how small they were.

Suddenly rabid with curiosity, he dragged them to her ankles. A thong. He held the scrap of dark pink silk in his fist and at that moment, something else registered. Something else was different.

He frowned. “Stand up, Danita.”

She did as he asked, but he had to support her by holding her hand, because the mattress dipped and swayed. When she was steady, he finished lowering her zipper. Carefully, he pushed her dress to her ankles and helped her step out of it. When he raised his eyes, he actually gasped. Her mound was completely bare, the pale skin glistening and moist.

Sweet God in heaven. He looked up at her. Her expression was wary . . . uncertain.

He touched her with a single fingertip, marveling at the complete absence of hair. The slick skin was erotic, alien. His cock tightened, and his hunger grew. Without conscious thought, he lowered her to the bed on her back and bent to taste her.

His tongue probed gently at the crease where her leg and thigh met. Then he thrust into her navel with his tongue and used his fingers to explore the delicate, smoothly waxed curves of her lower abdomen, all the way down to her raspberry-colored sex.

When he touched her there, she cried out. He traced the seam of her vulva with his fingertip and held up his finger. It was covered with her juices. He touched her mouth, forcing her lips gently apart. “Taste,” he urged. “See how sweet you are.”

She resisted momentarily, but he was insistent. Her mouth closed around his finger. He watched carefully. “Now you know why I love it so much,” he murmured. “You taste like the most wonderful forbidden fruit.”

After that, he couldn’t wait any longer. He moved between her thighs and held them firmly apart with his splayed fingers. He did a visual reconnaissance, drunk with the novel experience of seeing his wife’s precious pussy bare-ass naked. When he licked her the first time, her hips came off the mattress.

He nudged his tongue between her lush folds and probed her passage.

She cried out.

He buried his face in her succulent flesh and ate at her with sudden hunger, absorbing the scent and taste of her, licking and sucking wildly. Only at the last possible second did he remember their instructions. With superhuman effort, he withdrew and pulled her legs together.

She raged at him. She begged. She pleaded. Her fingernails left scratches in his shoulders as she tried to pull him back into his original position.

He gathered her in his arms and held her tightly. “Kiss me,” he said roughly. “Just kiss me.” He moved over her and possessed her mouth, taking it like he wanted to take her body—roughly, passionately.

They kissed for long minutes. His entire body ached with the need to be deep inside her. He rubbed his cock over her mound, tormenting them both. “Do you want me?” The question startled him. He hadn’t meant to ask it.

She looked at him with hazy eyes. “Are you serious, Shaun?”

He shrugged, feeling oddly unsure of himself. “Sometimes I think I’m not what you need anymore.”

All the while they were talking, he moved his erection against the place just above her clit.

She squirmed, her face hot. “Of course I want you. I’m sick with wanting you.”

The fervent note in her voice convinced him. He glanced at his watch. “Then let’s get out of here.”

He wouldn’t let her put her panties on. Danita watched, grinning, as he stuffed them in the pocket of his trousers. He winced as he tucked himself inside his underwear and gently zipped his fly.

She pulled out her compact and tried to smooth her hair. “Oh hell,” she said, struck suddenly by an unpleasant thought. “We have to fill out those damn questionnaires before we can leave.”

They did them in record time, not making eye contact with the pleasant receptionist as they handed them over.

Once they were finally out in the hall, Shaun dragged her away from the elevators and toward the stairs. They made it down one flight before he pushed her against the wall and shoved his mouth over hers. His hand went under her skirt and toyed with her clit.

She wrapped her leg around his, wanting him to lift her and fill her with that wonderful, thick erection. He broke the embrace, panting and fumbling for his car keys.

She glanced around them wildly, noticing the dark corner beneath the stairwell. “Over there.” She knew she couldn’t make it to the parking lot. He followed without a word of complaint. She was lost to any concerns about being discovered. All she could think of was screwing her husband. There was no room to stand in the cramped space, and the none-too-clean floor was questionable enough that she was unwilling to stretch out on her back.

She went to her hands and knees. He was quick on the uptake. He unzipped his slacks, flipped her skirt over her back, and entered her with a hard thrust. On the third stroke she came, her muffled cry strangled in her throat.

A split second later, his warm come flooded the mouth of her womb as he pumped wildly and buried his face in her back. She hung her head, breathing in great gulps, trying to get oxygen to her brain. And then she started to laugh and cry as the pain in her knees registered and she understood fully what she had done.

For Hannah, the hours of Tuesday crept by at about the same pace as some of her clients who were on walkers. After lunch, she gave up on looking at her watch. She was never going to make it until four thirty.

She went about her daily errands and chores on autopilot. Usually, she enjoyed chatting with her clients, and usually, she had infinite stores of patience. Some of them were cranky. Some of them were long-winded. Some of them were simply lonely and wanted a listening ear.

Hannah always tried to be caring and helpful. But today it wasn’t easy. When old Mr. Evans spent forty minutes debating the merits of various shoe insoles, she wanted to drag him out of the drugstore by his thinning hair. But she didn’t. She smiled and offered advice when asked, and pretended that today was the same as any other day.

At three thirty she dashed home, showered, changed clothes, and jumped back in her car for the twenty-minute drive downtown. She and Morgan were meeting at the Hursts’ offices, since Morgan’s job site was on the complete opposite side of the city.

When she pulled into the parking garage, her hands were clammy on the steering wheel. She still had deep reservations about what was about to happen, but it was too late to back out now. She lingered in the car park hoping to see her fiancé before they made the trek upstairs.

She wanted to kiss him and see his smiling face and reassure herself that nothing bizarre was going to happen. But Morgan never showed. She had found a spot near the entrance, and it was easy to monitor each vehicle that came in. Had she missed him?

Finally at ten till, she hissed in frustration, got out, and locked her car. When she entered the suite of offices on the thirty-second floor, Morgan was standing at the reception desk, his jaw tight.

She went up to him, wanting to pick a fight, but the handful of people in the waiting room curbed her impulse. She took Morgan’s arm in a tight grip. “Where were you?” she hissed. “I was waiting in the parking garage so we could walk up together.”

He frowned. “I was cutting it close on time. There was a spot on the street, so I snagged it and ran up here.”

That took the wind out of her sails. “Oh.” The adrenaline pumping through her veins began to subside. “Well, I’m sorry for all those things I was thinking.”

He kissed her on the nose and grinned. “I don’t even want to know.” He held up a key. “We’re all set. You ready?”

The lump in her throat refused to dissipate. “Of course,” she croaked. “Let’s do this.”

The room they entered looked as if once upon a time it had been two exam rooms. A wall had been knocked out, and now the space was approximately twelve by sixteen. Not big, but not small, either.

She felt unaccountably bashful all of a sudden, and she waited for Morgan to take the lead. He looked around with interest. She noticed for the first time that his hair was still damp. He must have cleaned up in the small shower in his trailer before coming to meet her.

Together they studied the ambience. The room had been set up to resemble a jungle hut. The floor was hidden with a rush mat, and the walls and ceiling were covered in burlap and palm fronds. A post in the center of the room might have been a support beam, or it might have been simply decorative. It was hard to tell.

A low, scarred wooden bench appeared to be the only furniture. The leather satchel resting on it looked like a prop from an Indiana Jones movie. Morgan picked up the sheet of paper beside it and began to read.

Hannah peered over his shoulder. “What does it say?” Maybe they were supposed to have sex on the floor and pretend they were jungle explorers. That might be fun.

Morgan had a funny look on his face. “I’m supposed to make you my prisoner and punish you. We’re supposed to use all the accessories in the bag.”

Hannah took a step back toward the door, and felt her knees quiver. It didn’t take a genius to understand the genesis of this particular scenario. In the group session she had admitted to having trust issues. The Drs. Hurst were clearly testing her boundaries and her faith in her fiancé. She swallowed her instinctive misgivings. “Well, okay then. I’m game.”

Morgan wasn’t fooled. He dropped the sheet of paper on the bench and came to where she stood, plastered against her escape route. He brushed a strand of hair from her hot cheek. “Our time in here is private, Hannah. We can do whatever we want.”

She bit her lip. “I’m fine. We’re in this together. We should follow the instructions.”

His expression was troubled. “Are you sure?”

She nodded, beyond speech.

He stared at her for several long seconds, his eyes narrowed. Then he shrugged. “If that’s what you want.” He turned away, reaching for the satchel. “You’ll need to get naked.”

She had to force her feet to move. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears, she felt dizzy. She wasn’t wearing much. It was summer in Florida. In a matter of seconds she had slipped out of her knit skirt, tank top, undies, and shoes.

Morgan’s smoke-colored eyes widened when he turned to face her. She saw him swallow. His voice was low and ragged. “Come here.” The blindfold in his hands looked sinister. But she obeyed.

As he slipped it over her head and smoothed her hair back into place, she shivered, blind and helpless. She’d never been a fan of the dark. Once, long before she went to live with Grammy and Papaw, her mother had made her hide in a closet while Vivian entertained a gentleman friend.

She had told Hannah that the man didn’t like children, and Vivian didn’t want him to know she had a daughter. The act was more careless than cruel. Vivian didn’t have it in her to be deliberately mean. But she was extraordinarily self-centered, and her needs always came first.

The closet wasn’t a terrible incarceration. The gap under the door was wide, and light filtered through enough to keep the small prison from being totally dark. Vivian gave Hannah a box of animal crackers and a sippy cup of milk. But beyond that, her young daughter had been on her own, terrified that if she made a noise, the man who didn’t like children would do something to her.

As an adult, she had no idea how long she stayed in the closet. It seemed like days, but it was probably no more than two or three hours. Vivian’s trysts usually lasted about that long. But eventually Hannah had to go to the bathroom, and as her discomfort grew, so did the depth of the scar on her emotions.

She hated her mother and loved her mother, and the terrible dichotomy ripped at the fragile fabric of her childhood.

Now Hannah stood immobile, assimilating the sensation of total darkness. The blindfold was leather lined with some soft fabric that might have been silk. She smelled the pleasant odor of the tanned hide, and her eyelashes fluttered helplessly against the slippery fabric.

Morgan took her wrists and brought them together at her waist. She sucked in a startled breath when she felt him bind them tightly. Her skin crawled with unease and she forced herself to take deep breaths. This was Morgan. He would never hurt her.

Despite her mental discomfort, her body began to respond instinctively to the feel of her lover’s touch against her naked flesh. As he manipulated her limbs, his hands brushed her skin gently, leaving little sparks of pleasure everywhere he passed.

He led her toward the center of the room and put her up against the pole, belly first. Then he lifted her hands and somehow immobilized them. Was there a hook? Her fingers fluttered futilely at the air, but she was secured at her wrists and the only thing her touch could verify was the pole itself.

She felt Morgan gather her hair and push it forward so that it fell over her right breast. Then he kissed the nape of her neck. She sensed him move away and then heard rustling that was probably the sound of him undressing.

She shifted her feet on the rough mat. Had the directions said for him to remain silent? Or was he making that call on his own? She should have insisted on reading the sheet of paper from the start, but a part of her hadn’t wanted to know.