XXX - 145 Enslave: The Taming of the Beast (16 page)

Chapter Fifteen
Jelena walked into Phillipe’s house. He was having a party; he’d specifically invited her. She wore a daring dress, midnight blue, tailored to accentuate her body. People noticed; she could feel their gazes follow her as she walked steadily down his familiar hallway. He was holding court in his office, she noticed. When he saw her, he stood up, making a beeline straight for her.
“Jelena,” he said, kissing both cheeks, European style. His eyes gleamed. “I’m so glad you could make it. I understand you’ve been quite busy lately.”
She didn’t blush. She shrugged. “It’s been hectic.”
He knew, she realized. About Alexis. About everything.
He put a familiar arm around her waist. If Henry could see her now, she thought bitterly.
Screw Henry
.
“Why don’t we talk somewhere a little more private?” Phillipe said, guiding her away from the throng of guests. He lead her back to his bedroom, closing the door on the party noises beyond. “You look phenomenal.”
“Do I?”
“Yes.” He gave her a frank appraisal, his gaze sweeping from her head down to her heels, slowing at her breasts and hips. “Power looks good on you.”
She shrugged again.
It might look good, but it felt terrible
.
He leaned in to kiss her, and she turned her face away. He pulled back, surveying her. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t need you anymore,” she said simply. “I realize now I never did.”
He looked offended. “Some way to treat your mentor.”
“You never taught me anything,” she pointed out. “You liked to think you’re powerful, but you’re just a penny-ante mindfucker who likes to think he’s a guru.”
His back stiffened. Then, slowly, he grinned. “Damn,” he breathed. “You
are
amazing.”
She scowled at him, stepping away when he reached for her. “I’m not playing hard to get, you idiot,” she said. “I’m saying: leave me alone. I don’t want to sleep with you. I don’t even want to touch you.”
His face went pale, then flushed red. “Then why, exactly, are you here?”
She froze.
Why
are
you here?
Before she could contemplate an answer, April walked in. She had her hair up in a sophisticated upsweep, and was wearing a demure black cocktail dress. When she saw Jelena, she paused, her expression softening. “Mrs. Granville,” she murmured.
Jelena’s mouth went dry.
“Phillipe,” she said. “You weren’t completely useless.”
“Oh, really?” he said caustically. “Where did I provide some small assistance, if I might ask?”
She walked up to April, then kissed her softly on the lips. April leaned in, sighing softly.
Jelena turned back to Phillipe. “You’ve got one hell of an assistant,” she said. “I think I’ll keep her.”
“You’re
what?
” Phillipe goggled. “You can’t…she—”
“I quit,” April said, without even looking at him. Jelena smiled warmly at her, feeling some of the awful numbness and confusion start to retreat. April hooked her arm in Jelena’s. “I think we’re done here, don’t you?”
Jelena nodded. Then she walked with April back to her car. They drove to April’s apartment—since the incident with Nadia, Jelena hadn’t wanted to step into her large, empty mansion.
“I feel so lost,” Jelena admitted as April poured her a glass of wine. “I thought I was doing the right thing, every step of the way. I thought I was correcting the damage.” She winced, thinking of Robert, Phillipe, Alexis. The brothel. She shuddered. “The things I did…”
April smoothed Jelena’s hair. “You did what you thought was best,” she said softly. “It’s over now. You can make new choices.”
Jelena nodded. She still felt…raw. Confused. She needed someone to be there for her. Someone to help her cleanse this terrible sense of doubt and wrongness.
April must have sensed it. When Jelena finished her glass, April took it, setting it aside the way she had that first night they were together, at Phillipe’s house. Then she tugged Jelena to her feet. She unzipped the midnight blue dress, turning to let Jelena undo her black one. The sounds of silk swishing to the floor were the only soft noises for a long moment, as they stood in lingerie, inches from each other. Waiting expectantly.
Jelena bridged the gap first, reaching out slowly, need coursing through her. She cupped April’s breasts, stroking the petal-soft skin over the demi-cups of her bra. April smiled, stroking her shoulders. They kissed, quick, light brushes of lip against lip.
With a soft sound of desire, Jelena pressed her body against April’s, feeling her nipples brush against April’s erect ones. April wound her arms around Jelena’s waist as Jelena buried her hands in April’s hair, freeing it from its constraining style. Their breathing turned quicker, more uneven, and the kiss deepened. Jelena felt April’s tongue rub against hers, causing her to go wet in a rush.
She reached down, her fingers moving past April’s panties and nudging across the silken soft flesh of her shaved pussy. April let out a low squeal of delight, parting her legs slightly, giving her better access. She was already slick, Jelena noticed, and her stomach knotted pleasurably in anticipation. She moved April to the couch, not wanting to go all the way to the bedroom. She sucked on April’s breast through the lace of the bra, every sound of April’s arousal fanning the flames of her own desire.
The heat felt cleansing. The need, overpowering.
April took off her bra, and Jelena followed suit. Both shimmied out of their panties, laughing as they did, a free, happy sound. Then they were kissing again, and all laughter stopped. They stretched out on the narrow couch, so close together they took up no room. April pressed her leg between Jelena’s parted thighs, and Jelena ground her pussy against it, needing more friction, more contact. “I want you,” she murmured, rubbing her breasts against the redhead’s and gasping at how the slight, sensitive contact sent shockwaves through her sexual system.
“Mmmm,” April responded, parting the folds of her labia, and then doing the same with Jelena. When clit touched clit, Jelena cried out at the unexpected pleasure. She sat up, unconsciously breaking the contact. Frustrated, she tried again.
“Wait,” April said, sitting up as well. They shifted, one leg overlapping the other, until they scissored together, their clits in constant contact, rubbing against each other. They faced each other, their hips gyrating in time as they ground against each other, the delicious conflagration of sensation searing through Jelena like nothing she’d ever felt before. She couldn’t think. She could only feel.
She kissed April deeply, holding her as their hips moved in more frantic, reckless rhythm. Their stomachs made soft slapping noises. Their breathing, high pitched. She tore her mouth away, holding tightly, her hips lifting off the couch as she moved closer, closer…
The orgasm spread through her like wildfire, and she let out a long, shuddering cry. April trembled against her, and the responding wetness told her that they’d both orgasmed at the same time.
They held each other for a long time. “I never knew it could be like this,” Jelena said, baffled but happy.
“You know what the best part is?”
Jelena looked over at April. “This?”
“Well, yes,” April said, and she looked girlish and happy and mischievous. “What I was going to say, though, is that men need time to recover.”
She leaned down, suckling first one breast, then the other. Jelena gasped in surprise.
“Women don’t,” April said.
They made it to the bedroom. This time, needing to feel something inside her, April brought out her box of toys. Though Jelena giggled at the bright neon pink piece of silicon, she wasn’t laughing when April went down on her, sucking on her clit, rubbing the two-headed dildo against her sensitive pussy entrance. They repeated their previous position, only now, they both were penetrated. The feel of something thick inside her, plus April’s skillful ministrations with a tiny vibrator touching both their joined clits, made Jelena come with the force of a nuclear bomb.
Then there was the shower. They clung to each other, one leg hooked over the other’s hip, the peach-scented soap slick and smooth between their naked bodies. They shivered under the forceful hot spray, moaning and arching and rubbing against each other, crying out with completion as April’s hand moved to guide and caress their twin triangular bumps.
They didn’t sleep. When the grayish light of dawn finally crept through the window, Jelena had lost count of the times she had orgasmed. She felt deliciously drained, outrageously exhausted. She curled up with April in the bed, twisted in the chaotic sheets. They kissed passionately.
“I don’t know where this is going,” Jelena said. “But I like it.”
“Don’t worry,” April said, as Jelena drifted off to sleep. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Six months later

“I’d forgotten how great it feels to be free,” Dominic said, stretching out on the bed of the private jet.
Nadia smiled. For the past two months, they’d traveled around the world—London, Paris, Madrid. Even Australia. “I’ll be glad to get home, though.”
“I know,” he agreed. “I miss Max.”
She laughed ruefully. “Me too.” As claustrophobic as it had felt, she missed simply being closed off from the world with Dominic. Living with him, enjoying each other. Having a simple life, just the two of them.
“Everything okay with your family?”
She shrugged. “Father went to jail.”
Dominic’s eyebrow went up.
“Porsche,” she said. “Vintage.”
“Ah.” Dominic’s expression was completely blank. “How are Deidre and the baby?”
“They’re doing fine. Jelena’s helping them.”
“I will, too.”
She sent him a grateful look, holding his hand. “I wish he could have straightened out,” she said wistfully. “But…”
“We all do what we think is best.” Dominic took a deep breath. “On a brighter note: I spoke with a few plastic surgeons. They think that they can reverse some of the damage.”
“Oh?”
“No promises,” Dominic said carefully. “No guarantees. But at least I won’t look quite so…”
Nadia frowned. “So what?”
Dominic shrugged. “You know. Hideous.”
The casual-sounding word was anything but. She held him, looking at him fiercely.
“You don’t look hideous,” she said, punctuating each word with a kiss. “If you want to try it, for you, that’s fine. But I still love you. Whatever you look like.”
He sighed, and she realized he’d been tense about his announcement. Yet another reason she loved him.
He nuzzled her neck, and she stretched out against his magnificent hard body. “I definitely miss you wandering around naked all day,” he complained, unbuttoning her dress and easing it off her body.
She thrilled at his touch, her nipples tightening. She helped him take off his shirt, then undid his pants, freeing his large, already erect cock from its constraints. “You know what I miss?” she teased, nudging his pants off. “That table.”
His eyes glowed. “We’ll just have to make do until then, won’t we?”
“Actually,” she said, “I thought we might change it up a bit.”
“I’m game.”
She swallowed hard. She’d been contemplating this for a long time, too. Now, at forty thousand feet, locked in their private bedroom compartment, she hoped it was the right time.
“I think maybe we should switch roles.”
His smile faded. “You mean…blindfold me? Tie me up?”
She nodded.
He hedged, a look of panic crossing his features. “I’m not sure…” Then he took a deep breath, kissing her. “But I trust you.” He said it firmly, with determination.
She dashed to her carryon, where she’d brought the silk scarves. She tied one around his head, then anchored his wrists and ankles to the bed as best she could. At least she knew he shouldn’t feel too constrained. The wispy material looked like it could barely contain him.
He was breathing quickly, more shallow, and she knew it was probably equal parts fear at being vulnerable, and the sensual excitement. She felt a tremor of pleasure, as well as a deep desire to ensure his experience was pleasurable.
She started with slow, long kisses, teasing him with it, pulling out of his reach. Then she traced a swirling pattern with her tongue, dipping into his collarbone, brushing against one hard masculine nipple. He let out a low groan of appreciation, and she felt heartened. When she moved across the hard, rippling planes of his abdomen, his groan grew louder, and his cock tugged. She could see the gleaming bead of wetness, there at the tip. She licked it off, tasting the minute salty drop.
His low moan echoed in the cabin, and his hips lifted off the bed.
“Not yet,” she said, then took as much of him as she could into her mouth. She sighed in pleasure around his cock, suckling it, rubbing her tongue along the velvety soft mushroom cap, gently exploring the aperture at the top, stroking along the heavily pulsing vein. She stroked her hands on the shaft that she couldn’t accommodate, slick with the wetness of her mouth. His hips rose in time with her licks, and his breathing was harsh and staccato.
She pulled back, and he made a noise of protest. “Not too fast,” she said playfully, letting him cool down. Just sucking on him had made her grow wet. She cradled his cock between her breasts, massaging it, rubbing the head down the valley of her breastbone.
Then she straddled him, lowering herself by inches on his rock-hard shaft. She moaned herself as she felt him filling her.
He struggled against the bonds, and suddenly she wondered if she were doing it wrong. She laughed as the loud sound of material tearing filled the air. His arms were around her, and he was sitting up, kissing her, pulling her tight against him. Burying himself fully inside her.
“Shit,” he muttered, and she pulled off his blindfold. He looked contrite—and hot.
“We’ll keep working on it when we get home,” she said, and then wrapped her legs around his waist, rocking against him, crushing her breasts against his chest. He pumped inside of her, lifting and lowering her on his erection with his strong arms. She’d never get enough of him. She whimpered, moving faster, rubbing her clit against his shaft, shifting and rolling so his cock brushed against the high, hard spot deep inside her pussy. The combined efforts triggered an orgasm like a shotgun blast, and she clenched around him, her cunt milking him until he came with a low shout.
When it was over, he kissed her, tenderly, pushing her sweaty bangs out of her face. “You are my home,” he whispered.
She held him tight.
“Forever,” she breathed. And gave herself over to pleasure.

About the Author
CATHY YARDLEY
has always been entranced by fairy tales and now spends her time giving them her extra special touch. This multi-published author enjoys movies, video games, cooking, and plotting world domination (just kidding, she hates to cook). When not writing, she spends time in her beautiful San Diego home with her husband and son.
www.cathyyardley.com
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