Arranging Love Page 3

  Oh, to be that much in control of another’s pleasure. Peter hadn’t realized how tantalizing he found the idea. But watching Crystal and the man working in tandem, alternately whipping and stroking the brunette into a frenzied pitch of need, he felt the power and craved that mastery. The brunette’s rosy nether lips filled with blood, and her moans became hard gasps of desire.

  The man selected a wand from the drawer and held it up for the voyeurs. At the press of a button, electricity jumped from the ball of the instrument to his fingers. The brunette thrust her chest forward at the sound of the resulting snap. Bringing the tip of the wand to her heaving tits, he sparked her nipple, and the brunette’s knees buckled momentarily.

  As the man focused on the front of her, Crystal worked her ass. She’d given up the flogger for a well-lubed vibrator that hummed over the woman’s sensitive skin. Crystal alternately spanked and massaged the round cheeks.

  They continued to drive the brunette, stimulating her hot holes with vibrators, fingers, and mouths. She pleaded with them through her gag to let her come, but Crystal was relentless. When the brunette did cry out in ecstasy, her body convulsing in orgasm, she was punished for her disobedience. The resulting flogging drove the woman once again into a fevered pitch.

  Peter sat mesmerized, his body vibrating with need. He imagined himself doing what the man was doing, inflicting pain and soothing the hurt, skyrocketing the woman in his hands to unimaginable levels of ecstasy. But this was not his world. His conservative fiancée would never agree to let herself be bound for their mutual pleasure.

  Meghan.

  Guilt pinched his heart and deflated his cock. He hadn’t thought about her since entering this room nearly an hour ago. As Crystal released the man from the cage and fitted his mouth with a bit, Peter came to his senses and left the hotel suite.

  Fantasies were meant to be kept in secret. No matter how much he wanted a closer relationship with this dark and mysterious woman, not even a Dominatrix like Crystal was worth his relationship with Meghan.

  * * * *

  Crystal kept one eye on her guests while expertly pleasuring her clients. She’d worked with this trio on more than one occasion and had come to understand their individual preferences and strengths. Her private sessions with them, both separately and together, had taught her much, and she exploited their fetishes for their pleasure and the thrill of those watching.

  Always a crowd-pleaser, the brunette was extremely responsive tonight, and Crystal could feel the low tone of expectation every time they drove the woman to her breaking point. There would be many among her guests seeking private sessions after the viewing.

  She’d hoped to get some time alone with her stranger from the Internet, but as she mounted her pony slave and brought her riding crop down hard on his firm ass, she saw the door open and the man disappear into the night.

  No matter. She knew enough about him already. Crystal had no intention of letting him get away so easily. A quick trip to Maine was already on her agenda.

  * * * *

  Even with the heat blowing full blast through the vents of Deirdre’s truck, Meghan shook uncontrollably. But it wasn’t the cold clenching her muscles, sending them into spasm. It was the undeniable terror of “what if?” What if Doc hadn’t come in for flowers? What if his car hadn’t gotten stuck in the parking lot? What if Deirdre hadn’t decided to plow the business tonight? Abject horror clawed at her throat, sending a shiver of panic down her spine.

  “Hey, Meg, you sure you’re okay?” Deirdre squeezed her thigh.

  Meg swiped at the moisture brimming in her eyes. The bandage wrapped around her left hand absorbing the tears was yet another reminder of what she’d been through tonight. “I’m just a little shaky, but I’ll be fine.”

  “I’d feel better leaving you at Mum and Daddy’s tonight. I don’t like the idea of you going to any empty house after what you’ve been through.”

  It was a little before eight. Meghan had been in the freezer just over an hour. After her rescue, Dee had had to plow the parking lot before Dr. McCarty could free his car and head home. Still, it wasn’t too late to have her mother fix her some comfort food before going to her own house just down the street. The thought was tempting.

  But then again, her dad may have had one of his episodes. If that was the case, he’d be sleeping in the living room recliner, and he was ashamed when company saw him that way. Not that she or her two sisters were company, but John Tilling was a proud man and not aging gracefully. Having him wake to find her there would be embarrassing.

  Besides, she wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened tonight.

  “No, I’d rather just go home,” Meghan said. “Take a hot bath and crawl into my pj’s. Plus Mr. Jingles will be hungry.”

  Deirdre laughed. “You treat that cat like a person.”

  “He’s good company when…” Meghan trailed off, not wanting to talk about her fiancé’s absences, especially with Deirdre.

  “Say it, Meg. Your cat’s good company when Peter’s out of town.” Deirdre scowled at her sister, the green lights of the dashboard making her features sharp. “And he’s out of town an awful lot lately, dear sister.”

  Meghan lifted her shoulder and stared out the side window. “Don’t go there, Dee. I’m not in the mood for another lecture.”

  “I’m just saying.”

  Deirdre pulled the truck into Meghan’s driveway.

  “I know what you’re saying, Dee. And it’s pissing me off.” Meghan flung the door open and jumped into the knee-high snow, grateful to get away from her sister’s disapproving stare. “Thanks for the ride.”

  Deirdre’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “Meg, I’m sorry. Why don’t I come in and…”

  “No.” The word came out with more emphasis than Meghan intended. She inhaled calmly and continued. “Dee, I’m fine. I appreciate the ride. Go home to Ayden and leave the plowing until the morning.” She slammed the door before her sister could respond. Meghan didn’t need to listen once again to Deirdre’s theory on how Peter had found another woman.

  Chapter 4

  Meghan startled awake, her eyes immediately scanning the shadowed corners of her bedroom. For a moment, she lay frozen, unable to completely fill her lungs, the terror of her nightmare became a reality in the loneliness of her room. She wasn’t in the cooler. She was snug in her bed, still feeling the cold fingers of dread pressed to her throat. She hadn’t wanted to admit to Deirdre that the whole episode had shaken her to her core.

  The lamp next to her bed burned low, chasing the darkness from the space, but not easing the tension wrapped around her chest. Then it was there again—the tiny tic tic of ice pellets against her window, ratcheting her pulse up another notch. The wind howled and moaned, announcing the arrival of more inclement weather.

  The storm had burst through her unconsciousness, causing her to relive the nightmare of being frozen in the darkness. Raking fingers through her hair, she sat up and pulled the comforter up to her chin. She hadn’t been able to reach Peter, not on his cell phone nor at the hotel in Philly, where the desk clerk had said he’d checked out. Maybe he was at the airport searching for flights to bring him home to her arms.

  Oh, how she missed him. Cold winter nights were meant for sleeping safe in his arms, spooned against the wall of his chest, her bottom snuggled into his lap. But slumber was an elusive commodity when she woke in fear. She needed something to take her mind off her loneliness and despair. Her novel lay open on the bedside table, abandoned for the vibrator Peter had given her months ago when he’d begun traveling. The satisfying orgasm had been the only thing that had lulled her into sleep hours earlier. Perhaps it would work again.

  She lifted the toy, her body tightening at the thought of the pleasurable sensations it promised. Not as satisfying as Peter, but if you couldn’t have the real thing, this little gadget would certainly work in a pinch. Sighing, she set it down. She needed more than an orgasm to settle her nerves. Warm milk. Her
sisters scoffed at her, but since childhood her mother had fixed the soothing beverage when night terrors pulled her screaming from sleep.

  Covering her flimsy babydoll nightie with a silk bathrobe, she slipped her feet into fuzzy slippers. Not too sexy, but definitely better than bare feet. She reached for the knob just as the room plunged into darkness. A chill of fear coiled in her belly, and she stood listening to the pounding of her heart and rush of wind. The storm had obviously knocked out the power. Meghan debated crawling back into bed, turning on the vibrator, and forgetting the weather. But Maine storms could be long, and she needed to get the kerosene heater running downstairs, or her house would become bone-chillingly cold. Guess it was just as well the storm had pulled her from slumber.

  Meghan debated lighting the candle on the dresser, but fumbling in the dark for matches sounded more time-consuming than padding downstairs. A flashlight was only as far away as the kitchen, and it was basically a straight shot down the stairs and through the front hall to get there. Treading down the stairs, she focused on the task at hand and headed down the hall. The light tap of footfalls froze her foot in mid-step. She thought she saw a shadow shift in the kitchen, but in the pitch black, she couldn’t be certain. Meghan tiptoed backward. Then another thump of feet and she screamed. Mr. Jingles came scrambling out of the kitchen, mewling loudly at her.

  All she could do was laugh at her own fear. Stupid cat. Surely he’d been up on the counter again, and the thump of feet was the little scoundrel sensing her presence. She picked him up and snuggled into his silken fur. His purring slowed her beating heart. He had been with her since her teen years, and she couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t slept at the foot of her bed. All through college, her mother had said the poor animal wandered around the house, happiest only when she was home on vacation.

  Meghan carried Mr. Jingles into the kitchen and scooted around the dinette set. Staring out the patio windows, she wondered how long the storm would continue. Even in the darkness, the heavy snow glowed eerily on the trees. The branches bent and swayed in a mesmerizing ballet with the wind. It was beautiful to watch, but if it continued to ground planes, Meghan would be a basket case. Mr. Jingles meowed and squirmed out of her arms.

  On a heavy sigh, she headed for a flashlight in the bottom drawer by the sink, intent on starting the heater and snuggling back into bed. With the electricity out, heating milk was out of the question. As she stepped around the counter, someone caught her. One arm came around her chest, pinning her arms, while the other snaked up from behind and captured her surprised scream.

  “Hello, Meghan,” said the man, the deep timbre of his voice hot on her neck.

  Meghan’s heart pounded wildly in her throat. Her nostrils flared, filling with a familiar cologne. She could hear the rasp of his excited breathing, feel his erection pressed against her derriere. She knew the feel of his body pressed against her. Fear released its grip on her muscles.

  “I wanted to surprise you upstairs, but you came to me instead.” His hand slid from her neck to her breast, and she gasped with need. “You recognize me, don’t you, Meghan? Your body gives you away.” His teeth grazed her neck, sending shivers shimmying down her spine. “Pretend with me. Pretend you don’t. Isn’t it every woman’s fantasy to be caught unaware in the dark by a man intent on having his way with her?” He ground his arousal into her back.

  Guilt coiled in her belly. She shouldn’t be giving into this fantasy, but he was right—at the moment, this felt a little wrong—and that, along with the solid feel of a man’s body pressed to hers, was heating her blood and making it hard to think rationally. God help her. She wanted to be a little wicked and try something new, even if her fantasy didn’t include her fiancé.

  “That’s right. Go with it.” His finger pinched her nipple, and the momentary pain sent awareness straight to her womb. “I’ve always known you had a naughty side.” She gasped, and he pushed out a breathy laugh that feathered across her shoulder. “I think this excites you as much as me.”

  “But I…”

  His thumb grazed over her lips, stopping any words. “Don’t talk. Just do what I say. I assure you, this will be very enjoyable for both of us.”

  Oh, how could she want this? It was wrong on so many levels. But the pressure between her legs spoke of desires Meghan had never explored. Her body craved this dark seduction. It was new and exciting, and she wanted this forbidden fruit with this man whose words promised passion and a little danger.

  “Is anyone else here?”

  She shook her head.

  “Good. That’s very good. I want you alone.” His hand slipped into her robe and beneath the nightie and splayed over her skin. Her nipples hardened under the heat of his palm. “This won’t hurt anymore than you want it to. You know that, don’t you?”

  Again, she acknowledged his question, but didn’t utter a sound.

  “No one knows I’m here. Your family thinks you’re safe in bed. Tucked in for the night. All alone.” His words caressed her ear. “But you’re not alone, are you?” He rolled one peaked pearl between his thumb and forefinger before tugging on it.

  A gasp of pleasure ripped from her lips, and she arched into him, filling his hand with her breast. “Oh, I knew there was a dark side to you, Meghan. You like this pain, don’t you?” He bit into the side of her neck, jolting her senses, making moisture pool between her legs.

  It was wrong to be enjoying this. Guilt was a powerful emotion, but the need to satisfy her aching body stifled any thoughts of calling a halt to this man’s assault. Heat seared everywhere he touched, and her body responded. Desire weighed heavy in her nether region.

  With his fingers still teasing her nipple, his other hand caressed her hip, sliding skillfully over her ass to the hem of the robe. He slid it back up her thigh, bringing the short robe with it.

  “Meghan, shame on you. You have no panties. It might make a man think you wanted something like this to happen.”

  She usually slept with underwear, but the vibrator had worked its magic so well she had fallen asleep with nothing on but the silky babydoll. “That’s not true, I…”

  He slapped her bottom. “Don’t deny it. That’s very bad.”

  The sting of his hand shot straight to her pussy. How could this feel so wonderful?

  His teeth dug into her earlobe, and his fingers tugged at her tender nipple, sending jolts of pleasure straight to her fingers and toes. Her body thrummed with the need to be dominated. Logic told her to make him stop, but her body arched back into him, begging him to continue. Strange how the pain heightened her arousal. Meghan had often wondered how it would feel to play rough in the bedroom, but it seemed too perverted to ask someone to do this for her. But tonight, as this man’s skilled hands and teeth hurt even as they aroused, she knew she had waited too long to fulfill this fantasy

  “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” He spanked her again. “Meghan, such a naughty little girl.”

  He splayed her torso flat on the counter, holding her there with a firm hand between her shoulder blades. His knee separated her thighs and spread her legs wide. Shoving the robe up her back, he exposed her throbbing pussy.

  Oh, how she wanted this. Wanted him to fill her and make her body quiver with need.

  “Beautiful.” His hand massaged the fleshy mounds, spreading her wide. “I’ve always loved your ass. And here it is, begging for attention.” He slapped her again. “It wants my attention, doesn’t it, Meghan?”

  She hissed through her teeth. “Yes.” This felt wanton and smutty and absolutely heavenly.

  “You like this more than I would have thought.” His fingers slid through her creamy wetness. “It’s making you hot.” He plunged a finger into her depths, and she pushed back, filling her body. “Naughty, Meghan.” The slap of flesh against flesh filled the kitchen even as he added another finger to the assault on her body.

  She writhed against him, his fingers stretching her aching muscles.

  “Is t
his all you want? A little bump and grind against my fingers?” He dragged her silky heat down to her clitoris, the pads of his fingers teasing the pearled nub. “Or is this good?”

  She couldn’t talk, couldn’t think, as his hand worked on her body. The sublime pressure of his fingers sent the bliss straight to her belly, tightening her muscles, taking her to that incredible place of ecstasy.

  The fingers of one hand continued in a circular motion over her clit. Meghan spread her legs wider, inviting more contact. “Oh, I knew you’d like this. I smell your arousal.” He dragged her slick heat up her slit and pressed another finger to the rosebud hole of her ass. “I feel your quivering need, Meghan.”

  Her hands wrapped around either side of the bar, anchoring her as the sensations toppled one over the other. Her hips pulsed in time with the cadence of his marauding fingers.

  “Don’t you reach orgasm, Meghan. Not until I tell you to. I’ll stop.” He pulled his fingers away. She groaned out a protest, and he pushed back into her. “Tell me what you want, Meghan.”

  She wanted to climax, to feel the incredible joy of release. His fingers were heaven, but true bliss would only come when he joined his body with hers. But she couldn’t tell him that.

  “Answer me, Meghan.” He pulled his finger from her clit and spanked her bottom, once, twice, and a third time, his other hand still assaulting her ass. The pain drove her higher. “You’re being naughty. Tell me what you want.”

  “You.”

  He laughed. “I’m right here.” He had both hands working her now. Fingers plunged into her hot holes, and she could barely think for all the sensations tripping over her nerves, let alone make words form on her lips.

  “Tell me. We both know what you need, but I want to hear you say it.”

  She knew what he wanted her to say. She only had to speak the words, and the ecstasy would increase tenfold. But she’d never asked anything of her lovers, always accepting what pleasure they offered without demand. What this man asked of her bordered on vulgarity—and she liked it. Meghan had never felt so licentious. “Fuck me. Please fuck me,” she begged into the counter.