She needed to do it again, properly this time, with her vibrator, her legs spread.
Desire rose once more, her nipples pulling tight.
Yes, she needed it. Needed to come again and again tonight. Probably every night until she saw him. Until he touched her. And then Mick would make her come.
She groaned, got up and went into the house, letting the screen slam shut behind her, her glass of tea forgotten. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was this driving need.
She moved through the dark living room, past the old furniture and the boxes of her belongings, and into the bedroom. She pulled her toy bag from beneath the high four-poster bed and yanked on the zipper. It was dark in the room, the moon casting a pale silver light, but it only took her a few moments to find what she was looking for.
Impatiently, she stripped her sundress off over her head and flung it onto the floor. She climbed up on the bed and lay down next to the items she’d lined up on the white cotton coverlet: her big vibrator and a smaller one, a string of anal beads, a bottle of lube, some clamps, their metal chain glinting in the sliver of moon and starlight that hit the bed.
She got on her hands and knees and grabbed the big, phallus-shaped vibrator, switched it on and touched it to her clit. It was almost too much, she was so hot already. She bit her lip, rode it out, shivering all over, then spread her knees wider and plunged it inside her.
“Oh, God.”
She surged back onto the big vibrator, loving the way it filled her. The way Mick had filled her with his big, lovely cock.
His cock was thick and long, a heavy shaft of velvet-covered iron. She’d gotten to touch it, to wrap her hand, her mouth around it, to get him off. But he’d never been willing to fuck her until that night . . .
He’d held himself over her, heat coming off his big, finely muscled body in waves. She’d been writhing beneath him, waiting for him. He’d made her wait, as he always did, until she’d sobbed his name. Begged for him.
“Please, Mick,” she whispered, pressing the vibrating phallus deeper.
It wasn’t enough.
She sat up on her heels, the vibe still deep in her sex, and picked up the clamps. She felt the weight of them in her hands for a moment, the cool metal chain running between them, pressed it to her aching breasts.
“For you, Mick,” she whispered as she drew one nipple between her fingers, pinched it tight.
She pulled in a breath, loving the spark of pain. She slipped her fingers over the hardened tip, caressing, then tugging, drawing the sensitive flesh out, did it again before closing one of the metal clamps around it.
She gasped at the sharp pinch, breathed it in, rode the pain out as she’d been taught to do.
She let the weight of the chain hang for a moment while she prepared her other nipple, caressing, pinching, pulling, then attaching the other clamp.
She drew in a hissing breath, let it out, let the pain carry her away for a moment, smiling as pleasure washed over her. Picking up the bottle of lube and the beads, she coated them, leaned forward, spread her thighs wider. She contracted her sex to keep the big vibrator inside her as she pressed the tip of the beads to her ass, took in a breath and slowly blew it out as she pushed the first bead in.
There was the familiar burning sensation as it reached the first ring of muscle. She forced her body to relax past the burn, past the keen pleasure shimmering through her from the vibrator and the clamps. She pushed it in a little more, adding the second, larger bead. Again there was the slight burn as it moved past the muscle, but pleasure surged just as deep inside her.
Her breath hitched as she pushed it in farther, and she had to bite back her orgasm. She needed to come. But she wanted it all. Wanted him.
Mick . . .
He’d never taken her ass. She’d wanted him to. Wanted it to be his big, beautiful cock pressing into her from behind. He’d wrap an arm around her waist, holding her tight. Making her feel owned.
She pushed another bead in, moved her hand to pull the big vibe from her sex, pushed it back in hard.
“Ah! Yes, Mick, please.”
She started pumping, the motion causing her breasts to sway, the heavy chain of the clamps pulling on her nipples. Pain and pleasure danced through her, from between her thighs, deep inside her. The sensations merged, began to blur, and she stabbed into her body over and over, the big vibrator pressing against her G-spot.
Her whole body was pulsing with the need to come. But she knew he’d want her to hold it back.
“For you, Mick.”
She went down, her shoulders supporting her body, her ass high in the air, her breasts pressed into the soft coverlet. She gasped when her clamped nipples came into contact with the bed, pain a sharp, lancing spark making everything more intense. She had to stop the motion of her hand, let the vibrator rest inside her. Had to take in a breath.
He would want more from her.
She reached back, imaging it was his big hands pulling the beads out of her, pushing them back in, using the motion to rub against the vibe, touching off shivers of sensation in the core of her body.
It was too much. She panted, then keened her pleasure as her climax ripped through her, making her shake all over, blinding her. Making her sob his name.
“Mick!”
When it was over she collapsed on the bed, drew the beads out and laid them on the small towel she’d spread next to her, withdrew the vibrator and turned it off, laid it beside the beads. Finally she turned onto her back and slowly released one clamp. She hissed as the blood rushed back into her deprived flesh, bringing a fresh surge of pain, a fresh surge of pleasure. She took a moment before she did the same to the other.
Groaning, she pushed her hair from her face. Her skin, her hair, was damp with sweat. It was several long minutes before she caught her breath.
Goddamn Mick. It was him every time. It had been for years. No matter the wonderful lovers she’d had in Paris, in Copenhagen. The Dominants she’d played with in Berlin, Amsterdam, San Francisco. It was always him she fantasized about. It was always his face, his hands, his body in her mind when she was coming.
This was why she had to see him. Had to have that one last chance to make him see her for who she was. For it to either work out, or finally be over. Because this had to stop—this obsession with a man who wouldn’t admit that he wanted her, needed her.
Now was the time. She would either get Mick to admit they belonged together or finally say good-bye. Forever.
* * *
MICK PACED THE living room floor of his French Quarter flat, the wood warm beneath his bare feet. His fingers flexed. He shook them out.
What the fuck was with him? Just because he’d heard Allie was back in town . . . Hell, she’d been in New Orleans at least a dozen times over the years, visiting her family in the summers or during holidays. He’d always tried his best to be gone when she was in the city, scheduling work gigs whenever he could. He hated to admit that he fucking hid from her, but he couldn’t lie to himself.
He couldn’t hide now.
He flopped down on the big brown leather sofa, grabbed the TV remote, rubbed his thumb over the buttons.
She was back to stay. Or so Jamie had told him. Inherited some old house in the lower Garden District.
If only he didn’t have such an efficient staff, he could use work as a reason to get away for a while.
An excuse.
Jesus Christ.
He tossed the remote down onto the table he’d built himself years ago from old reclaimed barn wood, and got up to pace some more, ending up in front of the windows that overlooked the street below. A couple moved under the streetlamp at the corner, stopped to wrap their arms around each other. He watched as they kissed, as the kiss went on. As they made out like teenagers. Maybe they were—he couldn’t tell.
He’d made out like that with Allie when they were teenagers. Kissed her until he almost had enough of her. But it was never enough. Not even that one night they’d spent together three years after the breakup, when he’d finally done with her a few of the things he’d always wanted to. Needed to. That had been nothing more than the most excruciating taste of something he’d never have again.