Mischief Page 2

  “Only you.” He bent to kiss her again and during the kiss he untied the sash of her robe. He delicately stroked her sides and back with his fingertips, and the tickling sensation through the silk was utterly delicious.

  “Did you miss me?” she said. “It’s been forever since we saw each other.”

  “Six weeks,” he said. “Longer than forever.”

  Nora had spent a part of August and September with Nico at his vineyard, playing chatelaine. By day, she wrote, read, and helped Nico with his vines. By night, she taught Nico how to serve her. She loved the days with him almost as much as the nights. That’s how she knew it was real love, even if it had complicated her life a little bit more than she’d bargained for…

  “We’ll make it a good two nights,” she said as she touched his lips. Beautiful lips, soon to be swollen from bites and kisses.

  “Good already,” he said, bending to kiss her again. “Perfect already.”

  She didn’t let him kiss her this time. Instead she stepped back to tease him and he narrowed his eyes at her in playful frustration.

  She sat in the large leather club chair with a seat wide enough it could have fit two of her. She threw her bare legs over the chair arm and waved her hand at him, indicating he should undress for her viewing pleasure.

  Nora could tell Nico was trying not to smile and/or roll his eyes as he removed his black jacket, folded it in half, and dropped it on the ottoman. He wore a plain white V-neck t-shirt underneath, which he pulled off without fuss or fanfare.

  “You’d make a terrible male stripper,” she said, even as she admired his lovely strong chest, his lovely stronger shoulders and arms.

  He knelt to take off his shoes. “I can’t dance either.”

  “My poor moosh,” she said, using her favorite pet name for him. He’d told her his grandmother always called him that as a child since he was so quiet. Moosh meant “mouse” in Farsi. “It’s okay. I didn’t fall in love with you because of your stripping or dancing skills.”

  “Why did you fall in love with me?” he asked. He stood up and kicked off his jeans. Nora looked at his tight, toned twenty-six-year-old naked body.

  Then she looked at it again.

  “A few reasons.”

  She stood up and walked to him, pressed a kiss to his bicep and breathed in the warm scent of his sun-kissed skin. When he reached for her she danced out of his reach again.

  “Ah, you drive me crazy,” he said.

  “That’s my job. Lie down on the bed on your back. Think happy thoughts.”

  “I am,” he said. She wrapped her fingers around his erection and stroked it upward.

  “I can tell.”

  With a put-upon sigh, the sort Frenchmen were best at, he crawled onto the bed. He lay in the center, face up. Nora dug through her toy bag until she found the wrist and ankle cuffs she’d bought specifically to use on Nico. They were the softest, most supple leather she could find, ten times the price of any cuffs she ever used on her clients.

  But Nico was hers, and he was special and it gave her enormous pleasure spoiling him even if he didn’t realize she was doing it. Though his vineyard was a success and he made plenty of money, he invested it all back into the company and rarely bought anything extravagant for himself. He and Kingsley were nothing alike in that regard. Kingsley spent years being driven around in a Rolls Royce. Meanwhile, Nico drove a twenty-year-old Land Rover and had seen a Rolls Royce once. In a movie.

  Before Nora wrapped the cuffs around Nico’s ankles, she massaged his calves and feet for a few minutes. The feet were a personal part of the body, vulnerable. Very few people ever had their feet touched by anyone but a masseuse or pedicurist. She liked touching Nico’s feet to remind him that she owned all of his body, even the most vulnerable parts. Especially the most vulnerable parts.

  Nico’s breath hitched as Nora rubbed his arches with her knuckles. It always took him a few minutes to get acclimated to being treated like a possession whenever they reunited. Unlike her, he had no other lovers when they were apart, nor did he want any, he’d said. He liked his quiet life. He liked his privacy. He liked giving all of himself to his vines and his wine. It took some getting used to, he confessed, to be touched again by someone other than himself. But those moments of rediscovery, of being touched again for the first time after weeks alone, he’d said, were like the first bite of an apple in autumn after a long season of waiting for them to ripen. The first might be so tart it would set your teeth and make your cheeks ache. Yet nothing in the world could stop him from taking that second bite.

  That he said things like that to her without shame or embarrassment was one of the reasons she’d fallen in love with him.

  Nora buckled the cuff around his right ankle. Nico closed his eyes while she buckled the cuff around his left.

  “You enjoy this?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Who wouldn’t?”

  “Fools,” she said. “Fools and madmen. And dominants, which are the same thing.”

  “You’re a dominant,” he reminded her.

  “Yes, which is how I know.”

  Nico laughed softly at her, one of her favorite sounds in the world and the perfect accompaniment to cuffing his ankles to a spreader bar. She threaded rope through the ends of the bar and tied it to the bedposts, leaving Nico’s legs locked open about two feet apart at the ankles. True, there wasn’t much more in the world Nora liked looking at more than Nico tied to a bed. However, the main reason she cuffed him was because it was difficult for him to just lay there and let her service him sexually when all his instincts told him he should be the one servicing her.

  They were good instincts. Usually she encouraged them. But when she wanted to play with him like a pussy with a moosh.

  Nora slid onto the bed and straddled Nico at his waist. Immediately his arms were around her, pulling her down to him.

  “This is why I have to cuff you,” she said as he ran his fingers through her hair, caressed her face and neck. “You’re handsy.”

  “How could I not be? You’re beautiful. But if you want me to stop...” He dropped his hands over his head on the pillow.

  “Why are you such a good submissive?” she asked, smiling down at her beautiful boy. “Hmm? Any ideas?”

  “When Rembrandt says he wants to paint your portrait, you sit down and you hold still and you say thank you to the master for picking you out of the crowd,” Nico said. “That’s why.”

  Nora wagged her finger at him. “You…you are a silver-tongued devil.”

  He shook his head no, and stuck his tongue out at her. It was red, just like hers.

  “Put that tongue back in my mouth where it belongs,” she said before kissing him again. The kiss grew so heated so quickly that Nico forgot himself again and wrapped his arms around her. It wasn’t often Nora showed off around Nico. She didn’t have to. He was her lover, not a client, and he adored her whether she did whip tricks for him or not. But every now and then she liked to remind him what she did in her other day job.

  Without warning, she rose up onto her knees, grabbed him by the wrists, and slammed them over his head into the bed. She used her full weight to hold him down and enough pressure to leave two thumbprint bruises on the sides of his arms. He inhaled sharply at the pain and went still.

  “You like that?” she asked.

  He replied with a single word: “Rembrandt.”

  “Just for that,” she said, “I’m going to be very nice to you right now. Ready?”

  He nodded.

  Nora released his wrists to fetch the cuffs and the rope. When he was strapped to the bed unable to lift his hands, she reached back into her bag of tricks and pulled out a treat.

  “For my moosh,” she said. “A kiss.”

  And it was a kiss. A Hershey’s Kiss. Dark Chocolate—her favorite kind. She set it in the hollow of Nico’s throat.

  “I can’t eat it like that,” he said.

  “You’re not going to eat it. Not yet. You�
�re going to lie there while I ride your cock into this bed. If you move so much it falls out, then you don’t get to come tonight. And if you manage to hold still enough while I use your cock to make myself come, then you get to come. And then you get your treat.”

  “You’re a sadist.”

  “You asked for candy and mischief,” she said. “And that’s exactly what you’re going to get.”

  Chapter Four

  Nora didn’t tell Nico she’d learned this game from Søren. Except with him, it was a glass of red wine set by her hip on the kitchen table at the Sacred Heart rectory instead of a candy Kiss on the throat. And she certainly didn’t tell him the punishment for breaking one of Søren’s wine glasses was far harsher than going a night without an orgasm. Nico liked Søren and respected him, but his regard for Nora’s master might be tested if he knew the full extent of Søren’s sadism. It was the reason they instituted their “separation of church and state” rule. Nico and Søren weren’t in the same room very often, but when they were, she preferred they didn’t fight. Nico was very strong, and much younger than Søren…but if he ever took a swing at her priest, Nico would end up in the emergency room. For someone who claimed to be a pacifist, Søren had a right uppercut that could put a man on his back for a week—something that Kingsley had once learned the hard way. The only bruises she wanted to see on Nico were the ones her flogger left on his back and her teeth left on his hips. Broken ribs and ruptured livers? Nobody wanted that.

  What Nora did want, however, was Nico inside of her. But what was the fun in rushing? She’d already taken her panties off, so she slid down his lovely long body and straddled his hips. Nico winced in pleasure as she pressed herself against his cock. She rocked her hips slightly and grew wetter and warmer with each tight undulation. His cock stiffened even more under her and she felt it pushing upward, trying to find a way into her. She rocked back and forth, back and forth, bathing Nico in warm wetness. She watched his face, his eyelids fluttering in his arousal. He was likely already dying to come. Of his own volition—she certainly never gave the order—Nico never masturbated for the three days before she visited him or he her. He wasn’t a classic masochist. He enjoyed the intimate attention of a flogging but didn’t crave pain. But he did have a deep-seated propensity for self-denial. Her own priestly lover wasn’t nearly as monkish as Nico could be at times. Another one of his little quirks. She wrote them all down in her mind inside a book she called My Nico’s Beautiful Secrets. She kept a book for Søren, though his had a different title: Søren’s Dark Fantasies.

  Nico’s book didn’t have a lock on it.

  Søren’s did.

  “Does it feel good?” she asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear him speak.

  “Yes,” he said. “Too good. If I come too soon what will you do to me?”

  “The cruelest, most sadistic thing I can think of,” she said. “I won’t let you have any candy this entire trip. Not. One. Piece.”

  He feigned a look of horror, his eyes wide, his mouth open.

  Nora didn’t know whether to laugh or kiss him. She went with both. After a good hard laugh, she dipped her head and kissed him, but carefully, so as not to send their other Kiss tumbling to the bed.

  “Now that’s good,” he said.

  “What is?”

  “Hearing you laugh. Seeing you smile.”

  “You missed me?” she asked, smiling down at him.

  “Every day. Every night.”

  “You miss this?” She arched her back so the tip of Nico’s cock would slide into her. His breath hitched in his throat again.

  “Every night,” he said.

  “Not every day?”

  “If I thought about your pussy during the day, I’d never get any work done.”

  “No more wine?”

  “No more wine.”

  “Ah, for the best then. It’s night here in Salem. You can think about my pussy all you want now. It’s certainly thinking about you.”

  Nora proved her point by sliding all the way down the shaft, taking it deep inside of her. Nico’s head fell back on the pillow and he bared his beautiful neck to her. The Kiss stayed in place in the hollow of his throat. Not that she was paying much attention to it anymore. Nico inside her was better than candy.

  Nora sat up on his hips and moaned softly as Nico’s cock shifted inside her, brushing against her cervix. It wasn’t particularly physically pleasurable, but simply knowing he was deep in her, as deep as he could be, aroused her to distraction. Her eyes fluttered as she moved her hips in a slow oval, letting the base of his cock graze her clitoris again and again.

  Strapped down to the bed as he was, Nico couldn’t do much, especially not with the balancing act she’d forced on him. But nothing could stop him from tilting his hips as she moved on him, fucking her from underneath. He was a sight for sore eyes, that beautiful warm brown skin of his, his taut stomach and his lovely ribcage, his toned arms over his head and tied to the bed, his lips slightly parted and his chest rising and falling with his every little hungry breath...and every inch of him hers, all hers.

  Although since he was French, she supposed it ought to be every centimeter of him…

  “I’m torn,” she said.

  “I’m not that big,” Nico said.

  Nora looked down at him through narrowed eyes and shook her head. “I’m torn between riding your cock so hard I come in the next two minutes,” she said, “or going very slow on you so you don’t lose this little game.”

  “If you come,” he said, “I win even if I lose.”

  “Then you say something like that and I want to play nice. I hate playing nice.” She pouted at him. He shrugged as well as a man tied spread-eagle to a four-poster bed could shrug.

  “You still have your nightgown on,” Nico said. “You can’t get much crueler than that. Then again, my cock’s inside you. If this is mean, I’d love to see vicious.”

  “I’ll show you vicious,” she said, glaring at him. She clenched her vaginal muscles as tight as she could around his cock. She did it entirely without warning, and Nico’s back arched off the bed and he made a sound so sexy she wished she’d been recording him.

  “Vicious.” He sighed in bliss.

  Enough playing. If she didn’t come in the next five minutes, she refused to be held responsible for her actions. She bent low and braced herself on her forearms and rested her stomach on Nico’s. She kissed his chest, his nipples, and his stomach as she moved on him.

  She was close to coming, very close. Nico brought out the dominant in her like no man ever had. It made her wild to have a boy so beautiful under her, beneath her in nearly every sense of the word. He’d follow any order she gave him. He’d serve her until his dying breath if she demanded it. He’d deny himself food and water and air at her command if that was her whim. The responsibility of ownership was enormous, the pleasures endless. If Søren felt for her a fraction of what she felt for Nico, she was a well-loved woman indeed.

  Nora’s heart beat hard against her lungs. The room was a sauna. She sat up again and slipped her hand under the lace-edge of her gown and pressed her fingers into her swollen clitoris. She saw Nico watching as she stroked herself in time with each thrust of her hips against him. Arousal rolled like a wave through her. Nico pumped his cock up and into her. She stroked and rocked, rocked and stroked. Her eyes closed and her head fell back as she pushed, pushed, pushed against the hardness that filled her and filled her and filled her.

  In the distance, she heard Nico make a sound, a soft sort of desperate grunt. Who knew why, but that’s what did it for her, that small hungry groan of his.

  She forgot about the Kiss, forgot about the game, forgot about anything and everything but the need to come.

  She dropped her chin to her chest. Her hair fell in her face. Her entire being was centered on the aching core of her where Nico lived right now. She dug her fingernails into the tender skin of his stomach and came with a hoarse cry. Her vagina puls
ed around him, tight contractions that radiated from her clitoris to her hips, up her back and down her thighs.

  When the last flutter faded, Nora opened her eyes and blinked.

  “I needed that.”

  “I guess you did,” he said.

  “Did you come?” she asked.

  “No. But it hurt not to.”

  Nora laughed, a happy drunken sound even to her own ears. “You didn’t drop the Kiss,” she said. She picked it up by the little paper flag and shook it as if it were a tiny silver bell.