Hearts of Glass (The Glass Trilogy Book 3) (14 page)

“Sweet, hot pussy,” he thundered. “This is what I live for,
you
are what I live for. Your body, your being, your soul. I’ll never be able to get enough of you, my angel.”

I wanted to respond with words, but for some reason I couldn’t.

He lingered his lips on my ear. “Janie, my healer, my life.” I felt him come again.

We lay there, sated, our bodies pressed together with a gleam of sweat, our hearts pounding out the same drum tune. I didn’t want this moment to end and hoped I could store it forever in my memory. When I was ninety, would I recall this bliss?

22

Janie.

W
E DECIDED—OR at least Daniel did—that we would honeymoon and marry all in one go. Daniel didn’t want to invite anyone
at all
to our wedding, greedy to have me all to himself, but I drew the line at not having my family there to celebrate. Will and Dad had been my everything since Mom died, so Daniel relented. He sent one of his company’s private jets to collect them, and I, forever the wanna-be conservationist, thought it a horrible waste and a veritable black carbon footprint to have a plane fly halfway across the world mostly empty, so I called my old therapist who had helped me a lot after Mom died. We’d become close since our sessions had ended, freed from professional restraints to become friends outside hours. So Daisy and her little girl Amy hopped on board as well. And now that numbers were increasing, Daniel invited an old cricket friend of his called Jesse, a British man who was some CEO of something important.

Destination? Bora Bora.

I hadn’t spoken to Daisy for a while, and when I relayed to her all my latest news about
The Dark Edge of Love
, it turned out that she is Pearl Chevalier’s best friend! So the next thing I knew, Pearl and Alexandre were also coming along to our wedding, their kids and nanny in tow. Then Star felt left out (“you said it was just family and now I see the whole world is muzzling in.”), so she and Jake and their children also made plans to come.

“Now we have to entertain them all,” grumbled Daniel, an eye half open as the morning sunlight streamed into our thatched-roofed bungalow, which sat on stilts on the South Pacific Ocean in this tiny chain of French Polynesian islands. Bora Bora is fringed by a barrier reef of coral, which makes it unique. The air smelled of salt and frangipani and jasmine. A wreath of threaded flowers lay at the bottom of the bed.

“That it will never come again . . . is what makes life so sweet?” I said.

“You and your Emily Dickinson,” Daniel replied sleepily. He pulled me close, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. Our legs were still tangled together, testament to more lovemaking, all through the night. He seemed more insatiable than ever, and I wondered if I could keep up. I was bruised inside and knew I’d been walking around in my bikini a tad self-consciously, remembering the bulk of what had been between my legs—the force of it, the power. The more sex we had, the more Daniel craved. I’d need to take a sabbatical.

His finger touched my clit, incidentally, imperceptibly, tapping me there so lightly my sore and ravaged center could hardly feel it. “I don’t have any more orgasms to give you, Daniel.”

He laughed, a light, sleepy laugh, full of irony. “Oh yes you do.”

He continued playing with me, stroking me, teasing, one hand languidly pinching my nipple, and the other tracing his finger around my core but not on it. Before I knew it, I was willing him to play with that part of me, but he carried on circling me there, avoiding my hard nub, avoiding the part of me that inexplicably begged for another round. My brain was telling me I’d had enough, that my body couldn’t take anymore, that we had guests to think of, a wedding to plan. Okay, the hotel was organizing everything, the flowers, the food et cetera, but still, I had to make choices, needed to decide . . .

“Please,” I heard myself groan.

“You see. You want it just as much, baby.” But he persisted with his tease.

“I’m sore.”

“Good. You can spend the day thinking of me with every step you take.”

“You’ll be watching me,” I joked, quoting a certain song with the same stalkerish lyrics.

“Oh, can’t you see, you belong to me,” he whispered in smart reply. His tantalizing touch was so light, I wasn’t used to the neglect on certain areas of my body. “I’m going to make you come this way, Janie. Without touching any of your vital organs.”

I laughed. “I think that’s impossible.”

“We’ll see.”

His hand trailed up along my belly, lightly tracing the curves of my breasts. My clit tingled and thrummed as Daniel circled each nipple slowly. He pushed me onto my back, tore the sheet away from my body, and I lay expectantly, soothed by the sound of the gentle ocean breeze, the scent of wafting flowers coming and going intermittently, all the more sensual because of my closed eyes.

“Just relax and concentrate on the sound of the waves,” he murmured. “I brought something that will have you begging for more.”

My eyes flew open. “What?”

“Ssh, you mustn’t look, but you can guess when it’s over.”

“When what’s over?” I asked nervously.

“When you’ve come.”

“You’re quite the expert, aren’t you?” I said, my voice laced with irony, although I knew that Daniel
was
an expert, but I didn’t want him to feel too cocky about it, “cock” being the operative word.

He strode across the room and pulled something from his case. I was so used to seeing him with a massive erection, but I hoped this time he really wouldn’t use it on me—my poor body simply couldn’t take it.

“Shut those pretty eyes of yours, Janie, and don’t peek.”

“Don’t peak or don’t peek?” I joked.

“You’ll peak alright, to the peak of the highest mountain.”

I let my eyes fall shut and felt my heart speed up. I had no idea what he was planning but had to trust he wouldn’t hurt me. I was a bit of a wimp when it came to pain.

“I’m just going to put this blindfold on you, baby. Just to make sure you don’t cheat.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“It’ll make the experience more sensual,” he assured me, in his late-night, gruff voice. A voice that sounded as if he’d binged on more cigarettes and whiskey than Don Draper, although, funnily enough, Daniel had never smoked in his life and rarely drank.

The blindfold was weighty on my lids but it felt great. I smelled lavender, as well as the frangipani.

“It’s stuffed with buckwheat or something to put weight on your eyes—and there’s lavender inside also. What do you see?”

“Nothing. Pitch black.”

“Good. Just concentrate on the sounds around you. The sound of my breath, the lull of the lapping waves. Think of this as meditation. Clear your mind from general chit-chatty mind-thoughts, judgment, desires or outcomes.”

It was true. I had a thousand thoughts swirling in my head. Daniel and his huge cock. My needs, yet how sore I felt inside. Pearl and Alexandre—had their plane landed? Would my simple linen dress be good enough, maybe I should have brought something fancier for my wedding gown. Could I act? What would happen when we got back to work? Was it a fluke that I got nominated for a Tony Award for
Where The Wind Blows
? WHAT IF THEY DISCOVERED I WAS A FRAUD?”

“Relax, Janie,” Daniel mumbled in my ear. He stroked my hair, soothing away my over-active ramblings that did me no good at all. “Just empty your mind and think of nothing else than the waves. Just the soft lapping waves, right beneath our bungalow. The turquoise water, clear and clean. The fish swimming beneath us, resplendent, multicolored, and going about their lives with absolute ease.”

I thought of sharks, suddenly, and wondered if they’d gobble up the unsuspecting fish, but Daniel had moved on . . .

“The aroma of frangipani . . .” I didn’t hear the rest but felt and incredible sensation of something light whispering across my nipples. It circled my breasts, around and around. I could feel my nipples harden and my pussy moisten.

“So beautiful,” I heard him say.

I was trying to work out what it was that was teasing me. Something soft. A feather? No. Tassels? It stroked along the center of my torso, down, down, avoiding the cleft of my pussy just by a millimeter. I moaned and rocked my hips up, hoping to meet whatever was giving me this indescribable pleasure. It traveled along my thighs, down my calf to my toe, where it lingered on my foot, ticking the erogenous zone—that pressure point in the middle underside of my sole. My clit was thumping to the rhythm of the strokes, and just when I thought it couldn’t get any sexier, Daniel’s thumb and forefinger (yes, I knew them by heart) squeezed my left nipple. Pulling, releasing, pulling, releasing. My whole body was throbbing.

I was lost in ecstasy. He tugged at it harder, meanwhile continuing with his “reflexology” treatment that had me squirming in my blindfold, still in total darkness as I was. He was right. I had lost all thoughts of everything, even the sounds around me. All I could do was
feel
. He hadn’t even touched me between my legs, not even lightly brushed past my clit, but I was groaning with carnal pleasure. He moved onto my other nipple and the unexpected change, of concentration on my part, caused tingles deep within my groin to explode.

“Oh, Daniel.” I felt a rush of blood to my central core as an orgasm ripped through the middle of me. I was fucking the air, gyrating my hips, longing for some contact on my pussy, even though my climax was so full and real. Just then, the same tool Daniel had been using to give me such pleasure rapped at my clit. A shocking sting.

“Horny girls deserve to be punished,” he said, the tassels of what I now realized was a whip slashing at my cleft, the sharp pain bringing in another orgasmic wave. “Need to be scolded for being so fucking hot, so fucking tempting. Jezebel . . . Eve with her juicy rosy apple. Making our dicks so hard, making us think of nothing but sex all day long.”

I wanted to laugh but couldn’t. The whip came down on my breast, making the nipple tweak and more pulsation pound between my legs. Daniel ripped off my blindfold, straddled me without sitting on me, his fist clamped around his enormous cock that he was pumping hard with his hand. He pressed its head on my nipple, his pre-cum sticky and hot, then pushed my tits together with his large hands making a valley for his erection to bury itself in. In the past, this hadn’t been possible, but my breasts had grown lately, in fact they were darn right swollen. All the attention? Or was my body telling me something? He started fucking my tits, his groans of pleasure an aphrodisiac, and my orgasm tingled on. Quieter, less intense, but still there, my swollen center a mass of over stimulated nerves, even though Daniel had not fucked me or even touched me there. Just that eager little thrash, nothing too much, but enough to give it the attention it needed.

Having this man I was in love with fuck my tits was one of the sexiest things I’d ever experienced. His devotion to those girls of mine, and my
foot
(crazy, eh?) had given me a mind-blowing orgasm, seconds before Daniel snapped the whip on me, which enhanced every sensation even more. How did he get his timing so right, each and every time?

This was the question on my mind, when his hot, creamy seed detonated all over my boobs and neck.

He growled out, “You see? We don’t even need to fuck. One day I’ll be able to make you come just with my mind. You and I are one, Janie. Oh, baby, you always make me come so hard.”

23

Daniel.

I
THOUGHT OUR pre-wedding dinner with the “crowd,” as I’d nicknamed them, would be exasperating. But it wasn’t. Originally I had wanted Janie all to myself for our nuptials, but soon a whole slew of friends and family joined us. At the last moment, I called my mother, but she said she had just gotten back from Hawaii and “wasn’t in the mood” for more tropical weather. That sounded about right; her mood took precedence over my wedding. Her loss, not mine. She was missing out not getting to know my fiancée. She never had gotten over Natasha—those two were peas in a pod. Secretly, I was relieved, though. Relieved to not have to entertain her.

Will, and Janie’s dad had arrived early that morning. Will mended, except for a slight scar on his cheek that I had apparently given him with a sharp kick. It looked rather becoming, the kind a bygone, black and white movie star might sport in a pulp thriller. Will was beyond apologetic, but of course I couldn’t remember a thing. Strange that, to be completely oblivious of a whole chunk of time. I remembered walking into my hotel lobby, and the rest was a blank. The hospital . . . snippets came and went but nothing substantial. I got the feeling that Janie was hiding something from me, though, and when her ex therapist friend Daisy showed up, their voices hushed as soon as I approached them by our plunge pool earlier that day, I knew they had changed the conversation for my benefit, and it made me very curious.