San Francisco Love: San Francisco Trilogy: Part Three Page 7

  “Come upstairs,” he urged, then realized how that sounded. “Or if you’d prefer to go up alone, I can find somewhere else to stay tonight.”

  Christiana walked past him, onto the first tread of the staircase. She turned and cupped his face, looking down on him from her slightly elevated position.

  “I want to change the contract.” Her fingertips moved slightly against his temples, rustling his hair. He felt the touch along every nerve ending in his body.

  “What do you want to change?’

  “I want sex.”

  James closed his eyes and licked his lips. He wanted to stoop, put her over his shoulder, and then jog up the stairs and throw her on the bed. Then he’d fuck her, finally sliding his cock into her sweet pussy.

  “This isn’t a good time to change anything so major. Your decisions are clouded by your arousal and what you just experienced in the dungeon—”

  Christiana kissed him. She cut off his words by pressing her lips firmly to his. He blinked, seeing an up-close view of her closed eyes, forehead, and the star-studded sky above. Finally he gave in to the kiss and closed his eyes.

  Christiana pulled back. “I know exactly what I’m doing, and what I want. I want to change the contract.”

  “I’m having trouble remembering why we shouldn’t do that, but I know we shouldn’t.” James was gripping the railings on either side of the stairs. If he released his desperate grip on the iron, he might touch her, and once he did that, there was no hope of maintaining his control.

  “Don’t make it so complicated. Do you want to have sex?”

  “Technically, several things we’ve done are considered sex, except in the most strict heterosexual definitions.”

  Christiana squeezed his face until he stopped talking. “James, if I don’t get to feel your penis in my vagina really freaking soon, I’m going to lose it.”

  A little huffing laugh escaped him, and James couldn’t hold onto the thin, frayed threads of reason any longer. He needed to be inside her. “Upstairs, now.”

  She frowned at him. “And the contract?”

  “Changed. Now get upstairs and take off your clothes. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t remember your own name.”

  Christiana lifted her skirt and raced up the stairs. James was pounding up behind her. At one point she stepped on the dangling chain, yanking her own head down. She nearly fell, but James caught her around the waist. He waited until she was steady before sliding his hand up to her breast, squeezing it. Christiana pulled the chain free of the collar and let it clatter down the steps.

  When she hit the elegant balcony, she shoved the skirt and loincloth off her hips, letting them fall. Now she was naked except for the collar. James hit her like a freight train. He literally lifted her off her feet. She wrapped her arms and legs around him as they stumbled for the door. Cool glass touched her back and ass. She focused on kissing James, which she did with a ferocity that shocked her. She’d wanted him from the first moment she saw him, but now…now it was more than desire.

  He had one hand on her ass, holding her up, and the other managed to fumble the door open. She clung to him, not caring if they crashed or tipped over.

  Somehow James got them to the bed. She released him, falling back in an inelegant sprawl of limbs. He didn’t seem to care. He shoved her legs apart and crawled between them. Christiana dug her nails into his shoulders and used her heels to push at the waistband on his pants. She couldn’t get it down over his raging erection, so she reached between them, yanking the pants over his cock.

  “I won’t last,” he growled.

  “Neither will I.” She wrapped her hand around his cock, guiding it to her aching pussy. She rubbed the swollen head between her labia, then against her clit. It felt so good, so wonderfully good, to have him there, knowing that this time he wasn’t going to just rub against her and then come on her stomach.

  “You need to be ready,” he demanded. “I’m going to fuck you hard.”

  “Good. That’s what I want.” She positioned the head of his cock at the entrance to her body.

  “Wrap your legs around me.”

  Happily she complied, hooking her feet together at the small of his back. He adjusted his position, bracing himself on his hands. That gave her enough space to run her hands over his chest, exploring his skin the way so many had explored hers tonight.

  “Look at me, my sweet.” It should have been a command, but seemed more like a plea. She glanced up from the well-muscled expanse of his chest to his face. He looked…vulnerable. He was breathing hard, his mouth open enough to show a hint of white teeth and pink tongue. She raised a hand, touched his cheek.

  As if that was what he’d been waiting for, he surged into her.

  Christiana’s eyes fluttered closed as he filled her, stretched her. Pleasure swamped over her, and she realized she was going to come—not the smaller orgasms she’d had before when he fucked her with something. No, this was something more, something deep and lasting.

  She’d been aching and empty and alone for so long, just her and her odd pictures of old rusty things, and now she was here, with James. His cock was hot and hard as iron inside her, filling and stretching her channel, which was tight with need.

  He pulled back and then thrust in again.

  The orgasm she’d felt building exploded within her. She reared up, wrapping her arms around him, nails scoring lines in his back. He fell to his elbows, his chest pressing her down into the bed, his ass and back flexing as he started to fuck her in a raw, brutal rhythm. She bit his shoulder, scored his back again, dug her heels into his flexing ass, and above all clung to him. He was her port in the storm of pleasure and madness that her life had become.

  “Mine. My sweet. My Christiana,” he chanted against her neck. She felt him tense, then his teeth closed over the hollow of her throat and he came. She felt it—the hot flush of his come filling her.

  James collapsed on top of her, panting against the skin he’d bitten. Christiana lay under him, hands roaming his damp back. She was shaking—not shivering from cold, but shaking from the intensity of the orgasm she’d had.

  She loved him. She loved him so much.

  The words were there, on the tip of her tongue, but she held them in, physically biting the inside of her lip to make sure she didn’t speak.

  James started to move, but she clung to him.

  “No, please,” she said. “I’m happy like this.”

  James grabbed a pillow, positioning it beside her head, and shifted so his upper body was only half on her, which admittedly made it easier to breath. She turned her head to look at him.

  His face was shadowed by the moonlight, and his cock was still semi-hard inside her.

  James traced a finger from her temple down to her jaw. “My sweet Christiana.”

  She closed her eyes and smiled.

  Tonight she walked eagerly into the dungeon. She wore her collar, of course, and the loincloth and skirt. Her breasts were bare, and when James had told her that she would begin tonight wearing exactly what she’d ended last night in, she hadn’t been embarrassed or apprehensive. She’d been delighted, and even considered asking if she could forgo wearing anything. The only thing that stopped her from making the request was not wanting to be accused of topping from the bottom. She wanted to be obedient, and she trusted James—not only with her body, but she trusted him to guide their evening. She might want to rush to the good stuff, get all these pesky clothes out of the way so she could feel hands on her everywhere, but if she trusted James, the pleasure would be all the greater, because it would be crafted and orchestrated to bring them both to the knife-edge of their control.

  Tonight they were among the first to arrive in the dungeon, and she was surprised to see a small buffet had been set up. James led her there, then made her a plate, asking about her preferences. Everything looked delicious—delicate, buttery seafood, crisp fruits, and fresh baked breads. Once he had a plate for each of them, he led h
er to the same large chaise they’d started out on last night. They sat side by side, backs resting against the single arm, legs stretched out, plates on their lap. It should have been odd, sitting there while topless and eating while idly looking around at sex dungeon equipment, but it didn’t feel odd. It didn’t precisely feel normal, but she was comfortable.

  As long as she ignored that little kernel of worry that had taken root inside her.

  “What’s that?” she asked, pointing with a piece of bread.

  James looked up from the small bowl of fish stew in the center of his plate. “That wooden construction?”

  “Yes.”

  “Stocks.”

  “Like the old timey ones they used to use to punish villagers?”

  “Yes,” a man rumbled. “And I’ll suggest your Master put you in it unless you mind your manners.” Solomon had appeared from seeming nowhere, which was quite a feat for someone his size.

  Christiana lowered her gaze to her plate. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Solomon, I’ll thank you not to correct my submissive.”

  “My party, my rules.”

  “My submissive.”

  “My island.”

  James barked out a laugh of surprise, and the tension-filled pressure that had been building eased. “Fair enough.”

  Christiana wasn’t sure if she was really in trouble, so she murmured, “I’m sorry, Master.”

  “There’s no need—we were enjoying the conversation, and unnecessary honorifics ruin the flow of good dialogue.”

  Solomon, still looming over them, snorted. “I have the nipple jewelry.”

  Christiana froze mid-chew. What nipple jewelry?

  James took another bite of stew, finishing before he answered. “Thank you. That was fast.”

  “They only needed minor modifications. I put them in the shell chest over there.” He jerked his head toward the far side of the room.

  “Excellent. I’m going to wait a bit before we do that.”

  Solomon looked at her, examining her breasts with a considering eye. Christiana inhaled, realizing only when she saw Solomon’s nostrils flare that doing so would cause her breasts to rise and make it seem like she was sticking out her chest.

  “They’ll be lovely.” Solomon nodded to them, then walked away.

  Christiana looked at the remains of the food on her plate. She scooped up some soft goat cheese with a bit of bread, and then put it down. She was no longer hungry. She was curious and anxious and excited. “Nipple jewelry, Master?”

  “Yes, these lovely breasts deserve some ornamentation.” He casually tweaked one nipple.

  She gasped, a bolt of pleasure shooting through her. They’d gone over nipple piercing when they did the checklist. She’d said no to that, hadn’t she? She was fairly sure she had. Maybe she should remind him of that, or maybe she should…

  Something clicked inside her head, and her anxiety melted away. She didn’t need to do anything but trust him.

  Christiana closed her eyes, took a few deep, slow breaths, then opened her eyes and picked up the bit of bread.

  James was watching her. “Good girl,” he murmured, as if he knew what she’d been thinking. Maybe he did. Maybe it had been a test of her obedience.

  They ate in companionable silence, watching as other people filtered into the room, the party starting in earnest.

  “It’s mostly male Doms and female subs?” she asked at one point.

  “It is. Because Solomon himself prefers female subs, his parties have a tendency to be this way. The Orchid Club is a bit more diverse, as far as sexual orientation and pairings go.”

  “And some women come here on their own?”

  “Yes, Solomon makes sure there are always a few more submissives than Doms.”

  “Why, Master?”

  “So that if a Dom needs an extra sub, or wants to play with more than one at once, he has that option.”

  “Oh.”

  “Tell me, was last night the first time another woman touched you?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “And how did it feel?”

  “Really good. She knew exactly what she was doing.” Christiana thought back to the delicate, precise touch of the woman’s tongue and teeth.

  “Uh, do I not know?”

  Christiana hid her smile and patted his shoulder. “You’re pretty good, too.”

  James raised a brow. “Minx. I think you’ve earned a spanking for that.”

  “But my butt is covered.”

  “I can fix that.”

  “Promises, promises, Master.”

  “Stand up.”

  Christiana put her plate on the chaise then slid off the seat. Without needing to be told what to do, she circled around to James’s side, standing before him. James, still holding his plate with one hand, yanked the long, slitted skirt off. It slid down her legs to pool around her feet. Now she was naked except for the loincloth, which hung in narrow panels over her pussy and the crack of her ass.

  “Take our plates away, and bring back two glasses of water.”

  “Yes, Master.” She scooped up the plates and started to walk to the buffet. The young woman who’d driven the horse and buggy was helping Solomon load platters and dirty dishes onto a rolling cart.

  Christiana was so focused on getting to the sideboard to drop off the plates that when a man stepped into her path, she was startled. She managed not to drop anything, but it was close, James’s nearly empty bowl rattling against the plate.

  The man looked Middle Eastern, with skin several shades darker than James’s and warm chocolate-brown eyes. He looked over her naked body, stopping at her collar. “Who is your Master?”

  “James,” she said quietly, then hastened to add, “Sir.”

  The man stepped to the side, but held out his arm to block her path. Christiana stayed where she was, not sure what to do.

  “James,” the man called out.

  Christiana couldn’t see James, but heard him say, “Yes?”

  “May I touch?”

  “Yes, but gentle with her nipples, I have plans for them.”

  The brown-eyed man stepped back in front of her. “Arms out to your sides.”

  “Sir, I need to just set down the plates and then I will—”

  He slapped her breast. It was gentle, more of a pat, but it wasn’t what she’d been expecting. “Arms up and at your sides,” he commanded again.

  Christiana raised her arms, fingers clamped on the plates, which hadn’t seemed heavy before but were growing weightier by the moment.

  “You’re pretty,” he murmured. “I like you.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” Christiana whispered.

  He pinched her chin, forcing her to tip her head back and look up at the ceiling. Then he started touching her. Every inch of exposed skin was fair game, and he took advantage of that. He kneaded her waist, ran his hands up to her armpits, then massaged her tense shoulders. He cupped and squeezed her breasts, pinched the sides of her ass cheeks, and even knelt to stroke her legs. She felt like…like a horse being examined before sale. If he checked her teeth, she wouldn’t have been surprised.

  No, not a horse. That analogy was her mind shying away from the truth.

  She felt like what she was—a sexual submissive, a living sex toy, being examined and touched by a stranger who had every right to examine and touch her. She had to submit to this, because her Master wanted her to. Christiana let the tension ease from her body—everywhere but her shoulders, which were starting to ache from the strain of holding the plates up.

  She heard footsteps, and relief swept through her. James was here. That relief was quickly followed by sweet apprehension. James was here. Would he take off the loincloth and let this man touch her ass, her pussy?

  “Christiana, please take the plates and dispose of them,” James said. Christiana lowered her arms, shoulder muscles screaming, and skirted around the brown-eyed man.

  “And how are you, Mohammed?” she heard James
ask.

  “Bored. Restless. She might do. Are you willing to trade or sell?”

  Trade? Sell? Her?

  The man was asking if James was willing to sell her. No, that couldn’t be right, this was just play.

  “No,” James said softly.

  Relief made her shake, and the plates rattled as she set them down. She turned, and now Ajay was there. Without speaking to her, he grabbed the exposed part of her ass, squeezing and then spanking it.

  Christiana looked at James, who was still chatting with Mohammed. Did Ajay still have permission to touch her? Did permission once given last the whole party?

  She started to open her mouth, to ask that very question, but stopped. Her Master was right there. He’d take care of her.

  So now you’re not even going to bother to ask questions? Who are you?

  “Bend over,” Ajay ordered.

  Christiana looked from him to James and back. Ajay frowned at her. “Present your ass,” he commanded.

  Christiana obeyed, planting her hands on the top of the sideboard, on either side of the plates she’d just set down.

  “What is your safe word, pet?” Ajay asked.

  “Engineer,” she whispered. What was he going to do? The question bit at her and yet unlike the questions she was asking of herself, this question only made her want to submit more.

  “You won’t need it,” the man assured her. He stroked her ass. Bent like this, the loincloth didn’t cover much. She heard air move, and then something thwacked against the back of her thigh. Christiana pushed up on her toes. That hurt, but not badly.

  Another blow, this time to her other thigh. She wondered what he was using. It didn’t feel like his hand.

  Maybe it’s a slapper. Like Dino used. This is just like that. You need to run, like you did then.

  That thought made her hold her breath, even as another blow landed, this time on the outside edge of one ass cheek. She waited for the panic to take over, for fear and hurt to spur her into moving.