No Holds Barred (7 page)

He flipped the sketch pad closed, threw it on the rug by his chair, and ripped the condom packet open with his teeth. She stretched again as he stalked toward her. She lifted her arms but instead of coming down he straddled the narrow chaise, dragged her legs toward him flipping them up over his thighs before he grabbed her hips and guided himself into her. There was nothing to do but hold on, clutch the sides of the chaise and give herself up to Jake’s furious thrust, watch his eyes glitter with need, desire.

Afterward, he lowered them both to the couch, waited until her tremors subsided then began again, slowly, methodically. As his hair brushed over her breasts Ella’s only coherent thought was that Jake
Truhorn
was addictive. And instead of frightening her she found it exciting.

They walked back to the house carrying their clothes, letting the late September breeze cool them until Ella shivered. Jake scooped her up and carried her into the house, slamming the door shut with his foot before putting her down and kissing her senseless.

“How do you feel about games?” he asked and his B-movie evil genius grin was back.

“What haven’t we played yet?” she laughed, holding onto his broad shoulders, happier than she could ever remember being.

“Sex toy poker.”

* * * * *

Jake had made it up, down to the hand-lettered white tiles that a friend had fired for him, stacked inside an ornately carved box he’d bought in a market in Marrakesh. He shuffled the tiles around on top of the glossy black coffee table while she finished drying off from her shower. He’d already assembled his “chips” and poured them each a glass of wine by the time she hurried up the stairs to retrieve her toys.

“You know I’ve had a lot of years to collect these things don’t you?” she called from the loft bedroom before he heard her on the stairs coming back down.

“Antique sex toys are worth double the points,” he said easily before he thought better of it.

She only laughed. “I am so going to beat the pants off of you.”

“That would be strip poker, my love.” He turned and flashed a cheeky smile right before his mouth went dry. She was wearing only a long white bath sheet tied toga style around her shoulder that would have appeared much more chic if she hadn’t been carrying a dark black sack with girly pink letters too twisted to make out.

She sat down, opening the sack. The first toy she drew out was a slim pink jelly dildo that she snapped into a black leather harness.

He squirmed before he could stop himself. “Where the hell did you get that?”

“I won it at one of those sexy lingerie parties. What do you think?”

He shook his head. “I’ll let you know as soon as some of my blood rushes back to my brain.”

“So, what are the rules tonight?”

“First hand is standard draw, second lowball and the third is you play the hand you’re dealt. Two out of three gets first pick of the toys and how they’re used.”

“So what are the tiles for?”

“The tiles are a guideline for the bet. No tiles required for the ante.”

She grinned and placed a pair of silver nipple clamps on the gleaming surface of the coffee table. He matched it with a bottle of vanilla massage oil, shuffled the cards, mint-condition peek-a-boo nudes circa 1950 and dealt the first hand.

She drew one card and the edge of her lip curled. He drew three, completed a flush, all spades and picked up a tile.
Get lost in a dream, relive a wicked scene.
Jake slid a DVD, its black and white hand-drawn cover, definitely art-house.
The Quiet Maid
was a silent erotic thriller, modern film noir.

Ella saw his movie with
The Gladiator’s Prize
and stuck her nose in the air when he smirked. She added a bejeweled belly chain. He countered with a chandelier earring she’d dangled from her nipple by its ear wire and had forgotten in his hotel room one long year ago. He grinned when he beat her two pair.

She dealt the next hand, picked up a tile and flipped it over.
Into the drink, it never shrinks.
One very slim, pink jelly dildo, sans black leather harness.
He set a small brocade box in the pot and opened the lid revealing a set of silver Ben
Wa
balls, which she saw with a box of iridescent glow-in-the-dark condoms. His straight would have beaten her two pair if they hadn’t been playing lowball.

He dealt the third and last hand, the one they couldn’t change and his tile read
Squeeze Me. Tease Me.
One adjustable
cockring
.
She wasn’t even attempting to hide her smile when she laid down the ball harness she’d already used on him and with any luck would again, and added the braided red cords.

She laid her full house down, aces high with a pair of fives. He let her enjoy herself for about three seconds before laying down his straight flush, all diamonds.

“If I didn’t know you better I’d be looking for marks on these cards,” she laughed.

“That would be like slapping a coat of paint on a priceless antique,” he said, just managing to keep the tremor of excitement out of his voice. “I’ve never understood wanting to change something that was perfect already.” He eyed the treasure on the table but he already knew what he wanted. He grabbed the pink jelly dildo and the bottle of vanilla massage oil.

“Wait until I call you and feel free to make use of anything left on the table.”

“Oh, your wish is my command,” she laughed, taking a sip of wine.
“For tonight anyway.”

After starting the bath he unrolled a cushioned exercise mat, laid it over the oriental carpet closest to the sunken tub, layered plush white towels over that and angled the cheval glass to catch it all. He lit the candle sconces set into alcoves along the walls, opened the sliding doors to the outside walled garden letting in the scent of lavender and the sound of the rippling fountain. It was as close to a Roman Bath as she was going to get tonight. He was already hard thinking about doing the
work
of two men when he slipped a handful of condoms beneath the towels.

He shrugged off his jeans and tucked a towel around his hips. He couldn’t resist carrying her from the living room to the bath. When he released her she slid against him, kissing him while he untied her towel toga and let it fall. She was wearing the silver nipple clamps and belly chain, candlelight sparkling off the small ruby heart pointed like an arrow down to her bare lips—smooth as a peach, plump and perfect.

Ella let her eyes drift shut for the moment it took him to lower her to the towel-covered mat. “I thought this was supposed to be your fantasy.”

“I haven’t been able to think of much else since I sketched you,” he whispered against her lips. She shivered, opened her eyes and lay back with her arms above her head, anticipation sizzling through her as he poured warm oil between her breasts and released the clamps. The slight pressure had built to just the right peak to appreciate the slide of his tongue over her sensitized nipples, the soothing caress of his lips.

He looked good in candlelight but then she was beginning to believe he couldn’t look bad. Candlelight danced off his muscles, shadowing the dark gold line of hair that arrowed down his stomach into the towel at his waist. She traced it and slipped her fingers beneath his terrycloth wrap, reached for him until he took both her wrists and crossed them above her head.

The scent of vanilla permeated the heated mist of the room. Ella submersed herself in the fragrance and the first touch of his fingers smoothing the oil around each breast drawing her into an arch with a slight tug of her nipples before starting over again. He lifted each to his lips, tasting the distended nubs, flicking them with his tongue until she purred, writhing beneath his hands, his lips. He smoothed up her chest, her neck, over her face, sculpting, molding, his lips following, punctuating each caress. She was floating on a cloud of pleasure.

He traced back down the same oily path he’d begun, over her ribs and her rounded stomach, dipping one finger into the well of her bellybutton before trailing it downward, following the path of her belly chain. He rolled the tiny links over her tummy. Half the pleasure was watching Jake’s face as he massaged and nibbled his way over her body. He worked the flesh of her thighs, spreading them to make room for his shoulders as he slid between them. He poured edible oil over the top of her pussy and she lifted to her elbows, watching him part her labia to expose her clit. He tilted his head back so she could see his slow descent. She felt the warm puff of his breath before he slid the tip of his tongue over her. She almost came off the mat but he was holding her still, nibbling, sucking, feasting on her and it was that image that sent her over the edge.

Jake slid up over her oil-slicked body, held her as she shook and cried out then took her mouth in a kiss that seared every quickening nerve and sent her careening once more. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly, shuddering and moaning, mindless in that moment, unable to get close enough. She tried to wrap her legs around him.

“Not yet,” he whispered into her mouth, his vanilla-scented breath warm. He soothed her quivering legs and rolled her over quickly covering himself with a condom. “I’m every gladiator you ever dreamed of,” he said, pulling her hips into his groin, parting her, sliding into her pussy. She jerked, still too raw from her release and he slowed for a moment, waiting until she became accustomed to his girth before he began thrusting slowly, methodically, urging her toward another peak of pleasure.

Her breath shuddered out of her when she felt the warm oil he trickled into her ass. She closed her eyes, waiting an interminable few seconds before he began slicking it into her tight passage, lifting her hips even higher. She was so totally open, exposed by her own needs she moaned as he swiveled first one then two oily fingers into her ass. He poured more oil between them and massaged it deeper into her.

Ella lifted herself up on her hands and knees, rocked backward onto his fingers, felt the tip of the dildo enter her ass and slowed. She was so wet, so hot, so mindless with need. She watched their reflection in the cheval glass as he thrust inside her, his cock filling her pussy in time with the dildo’s thrust. And it hit her, hard and fast, ruthless in its truth.
Her deepest, darkest fantasy.
She was being taken by two men—Jake the fantasy and Jake the real man both wanted her.

Their eyes met. Jake strained behind her, sweat pouring down his angular face, the corded muscles of his neck and chest. The longing she’d glimpsed before stark and beautiful, every thrust controlled. She could tell him anything, ask for anything.
Give anything.
And at that moment she wanted to give him everything. She clenched her teeth against the desire he was building and gave in to it.

“I need you,” she rasped, biting her lip. He slowed and she nodded. “Only you,” she whispered, and he didn’t pretend to misunderstand. He eased his jelly rival out and his fingers were gentle as he funneled more oil into her ass. And then he was easing just the tip of his cock into her and then the crown, slowly until she braced herself and pushed backward with a whimper, felt the tight stricture he pushed past give way to the promised fullness she was desperate for. Shaking with desire she whispered his name like a prayer.

So many firsts, so much trust.
She watched them in the mirror. He was careful and she didn’t want to be, she wanted to get lost in the mindless lust between them but even her body wouldn’t let that happen. She reached for her orgasm, closed her eyes, tried to focus and cried out in frustration when it eluded her.

Until she felt his fingers, circling her clit, working her as he slid into a faster rhythm, the sensation sending her over the edge into the abyss where he caught her as she tried to fall and dragged her back against him, shouting her name as he came.

“Open your eyes, Ella. Look at what’s staring you right in the face,” he whispered raggedly as he pulsed inside her. He held her around the waist, snug against his chest, nuzzling her ear.

“This isn’t a fantasy, Ella. This is what people wait a lifetime for and never understand that all they have to do is reach out and take it.”

“It’s not that easy,” she said because she desperately wanted it to be.

“It’s as easy as you want it to be, Ella. I already know you’re not married, not involved with anyone else and you know that I want more than a lifetime of stolen moments. I love you Ella. I want forever.”

In the back of her mind she knew that’s where she’d placed Jake—a stolen moment, totally out of character, a test. She had waited for the panic to set in, was still waiting for it. “You scare the hell out of me. You walk into a room and women want to touch you, it’s just the way you are,” she said, hating herself for her insecurities.

“Do you need me to tell you that yours is the only touch I want? You have to know that’s true.”

She hung limply in his arms, caught, unable to fall. “No. I need to believe that I won’t turn into one of those women who cling, afraid that someone prettier, smarter, younger will catch your eye. That you’ll want to paint them nude or play sex toy poker, that I’ll be tempted by the latest diet or surgery that I’m convinced will help me keep you—it’s pathetic and I hate being pathetic.” She watched herself, wide-eyed, and Jake, fierce and determined.

“You’re not pathetic, you’re in love. And so am I.” He stated it as if it were a fact she should have realized already and he was surprised that she hadn’t.

“I’m in so much trouble here,” she murmured to their reflection and he kissed her ear. “I absolutely believe every word you’ve said. I do love you and maybe I’m just too worn out to panic but I don’t have an overwhelming urge to run.”

She wanted to be relieved but like an addict waiting for her next fix she expected the panic. The fear that she loved him so much that one day she’d allow herself to succumb to being his “project”, too afraid he’d be attracted to someone younger, prettier, smarter, not to.

“Just keep believing,” he whispered as he slid from her, still holding her up.