Shanna Germain - Leather Bound

Bending down, he put one hand on each side of her dress, where the fabric had fallen open. In one easy movement, he pulled outwards. Under the strain, the buttons didn’t stand a chance. They went flying, tumbling to the floor, and the dress opened fully to reveal all of her, from her large, pointed nipples down to her lovely V of dark curls. The garter belt fitted the swell of her hips perfectly. I couldn’t take my eyes off the pale strips of her thigh that showed above the stockings, the way the nylon rolled just slightly as if at some point she had begun to roll them off and had been distracted. The scissors between her thighs were the only hard-edged thing about her.

His fingers played along both nipples, causing her to squirm and arch in her seat. My movements echoed hers, as though, by watching, I was gaining a synthesis with her. He held one nipple tightly between his fingers, almost pinching it, and then tugged it, elongated it until it was thin and tight. I could almost hear her gasp, the way her mouth fell open at the sensation. He did the same with the other until he was tugging both nipples as far away from her body as they could possible stretch. The muscles of her thighs clenched, shifting the scissors. He kept his stance until she was panting, uttering words I couldn’t hear.

I feared for a second that she would lose control and drop the scissors. I didn’t know what that meant for her, but I knew it wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to be very, very good for him. And at that moment, with my own hand clenched between my thighs, my clit pulsing hard and fast against the movement of my finger, I wanted her to be very, very good for him too. I wanted her to get her reward, whatever it might be, so that I could have it too.

He released her nipples, and they sprang back against her body, flushed and rosy. He touched each one again, a tender touch, a finger-kiss, to soothe the ache. Then he pulled the scissors from between her thighs. She shuddered again and let her legs fall open.

I was close to coming, but I didn’t want to, not yet, so I stilled my hand for a moment, watching. He slipped the scissors between her skin and one of the stockings, slicing down the front in irregular patterns. Then he did the other. The torn-open dress and the gashes in the material combined to make her look like she’d spent the night being well fucked, even though I got the feeling that the couple had just begun playing shortly before I arrived. The look was sexy on her, and when he let the scissors drop to the floor so he could catch her hair with one hand and pinch her clit with the other, I felt the first pulse of pre-climax slip through my body.

He stroked her, hard and quick, with two fingers, and I caught his rhythm, echoed it with my own, until an orgasm rose inside me, impossible to resist. I let the pleasure pull my eyes closed, let it pull forward the loud moans that rose from somewhere in my chest and sank into the walls. There was a calm in allowing the orgasm to wash over me like that, in allowing all of the stress of the day to slide away. The pleasure was lovely, but almost secondary to the release of tension that I’d been carrying in my body. I relaxed a moment, hand wet between my thighs, letting my whole weight rest against the chair.

When I opened my eyes, I saw that the man had turned around to stand behind the woman with his hands on her shoulders. Now that he was inside the halo of light, I could see him more clearly. Those hands. That build. And most of all, those impossibly coloured eyes.

It was Davian. And I could have sworn he was looking right at me.

* * *

Now grateful that I was still mostly clothed, I tumbled out of the tiny room as fast as my orgasm-wracked body would let me, breathing heavily, feeling confused and off-balance. The only thing I knew for certain was that I needed to get out of L&L before he saw me.

So much for my respite, for my chance to hide away and recover. Whatever moments of peace I’d experienced mid-orgasm slipped away as I hurried outside and then down the sidewalk, feeling incredibly exposed by the late-afternoon light.

It wasn’t until I was on the street, blocks from L&L and at the very edge of the Sweet Spot, that I let myself stop and breathe and think. I clung to the wall with one hand, panting, trying to wrap my mind around everything.

OK, so it couldn’t really have been Davian, right? That was just too much of a coincidence. That was just too … weird.

And even if it was, there was no way he could have seen me inside the room. L&L was known for its discretion, for its customer safety and privacy. If they said a window was one-way, I believed them.

Why then had it seemed like he’d seen me somehow? Why had it seemed like he’d looked right at me at my moment of orgasm? It was a fever dream born of lust, I was sure. My oversexed mind had cooked up the image of him to add to my pleasure. That’s all it was.

I walked home, still tumbling everything over in my brain. What a day it had been. First Kyle. Then Davian. Then … whatever that was at L&L. People said bad things happened in threes. I wondered if that was true about really weird things as well. I hoped so. If it was true, at least it would mean all the odd things that were going to happen to me were over for a while.

Kyle, thankfully, wasn’t at my place, although there were a number of voice messages from him on my cell when I pulled it out of my pocket. I didn’t listen to them. I promised myself I’d call him in the morning, when I was feeling less Alice in Wonderlandish.

A hot bath. Some food. And sleep. Those were the things I needed, and in that order.

As it turned out, I didn’t make it to either of the first two. To my complete and utter surprise, I got as far as undressing, and then crawled under the covers and slept. Tomorrow is another day.

Just call me Scarlett O’Hara, I thought, as I lost myself in dreamland.

I kept my promise to Lily. I wasn’t late to Leather Bound the next morning. I even hauled my ass out of bed early enough to stop at Cream for coffee. I saw Stefan in the corner, but he was captured by an overly enthusiastic customer, so I left him to his fate and headed to Leather Bound, armed with a caramel mocha for me and a cinnamon latte for Lily. I smelled like Christmas, all wrapped up with a coffee bow.

I’d slept fine, but I’d dreamed of sex all night long. Some of it was sex with Kyle and Davian, sometimes both of them at once. Sometimes the woman in the shirtdress was there, and sometimes Lily and sometimes even one or two of my exes. But mostly it seemed I’d dreamed of having sex with a faceless stranger, who then kept turning into Davian or a Davian lookalike. I was never sure.

Lily hadn’t arrived at Leather Bound by the time I got there, so I set her coffee on the counter, hoping it wouldn’t get too cold, and spent some time giving Webster chin scratches and breakfast before I headed back to my office.

I needed to tackle two things this morning.

One, call Kyle.

OK, wait, three things.

One, figure out what I was going to say to Kyle.

Two, call Kyle.

Three, research Mister Cavanaugh and find out as much as I could about the mysterious man and his equally mysterious book. Yes, I’d turned him down, but I supposed I was like Lily in that way: once something caught my interest, especially something as shiny and intriguing as this, I didn’t let it go easily. Not to mention that I thought I saw him cutting the buttons off a hot girl at the sex store. Yesterday he’d responded to Lily’s comment about L&L with a knowing smirk. ‘I know the place,’ he’d said. If it really was him I’d seen, then he certainly did.

But first, I should decide what to do about Kyle. Second, I should call him.