Even Deeper (2 page)

I glared at him.

"That expression makes me want to slap you.”

Had he heard Jack talk to me like this? Because listening to Alex was like hearing an echo of my man. A recording played back for me.

Alex’s eyes were blazing, but I didn't look away.

The threat of being punished on an airplane might seem just like that. A threat. What could Alex do to me with all of these witnesses around? How far would he actually be willing to go? Would he really want to experience the embarrassment of everyone looking at us as we re-emerged from the tiny bathroom if he meant to try to spank me there? Or was he planning on putting me over his lap in the first-class seat and punishing me in public?

Suddenly, I didn’t want to find out.

As suddenly, Alex seemed wide-awake and ready to play.

“Don’t you think Jack gave me instructions for how to deal with your different moods?”

Why had I needed to mess with Alex? Because I was upset. I didn’t like the thought that Jack hadn’t trusted me with the fact that he wasn’t traveling with us. I didn’t like the thought that I’d been casually handed over to his assistant.

Sure, Alex was more than an assistant. Far more. But Jack was… Jack was everything. When Jack was present, playing with Alex became a sort of bonus. When the two of us were alone together, the dynamics changed dramatically. Alex stepped into Jack’s shoes—tried to, anyway. Even if he was a capable Baby Dom, he wasn’t my man.

While I watched, he pulled a red leather blindfold from his case. I pushed back in my chair. I didn’t want to wear that. From the look in Alex’s eyes, I realized that I didn’t have a choice.

“I’m reporting to him when we land,” Alex said. “It’s like a simple flowchart. One even you could understand. If A, then B. If B then C. There are specific rules for me to follow. You’re misbehaving, and I’m to deal with you. If I fail, then don’t you think I have to face my own repercussions?”

I wanted to see him face those. I enjoyed the thought of Alex failing. My feelings for him were so twisted. Sometimes, I wanted nothing more than to suck him off. Sometimes, when I was over his lap, or watching him stroke his leather belt in a mirror of Jack’s favorite move, I felt a wave of lust specifically for him. Then there were times like now, when he moved forward and fastened the straps under my hair, that I hated him.

It’s like a sleep mask
, I told myself.

But it wasn’t. It was a blindfold. I no longer could watch to see what Alex was going to do next. Instantly, I was docile, head turned toward the window that might as well have been a wall for all the use it was to me. Alex brought the wineglass to my lips, offering me a sip. In friendship? No. Simply to show he was boss. Did I want wine? Then he would pour the liquid into my mouth.

He covered me with one of the dove-gray blankets next, and I felt his hands on my body, pushing my short skirt up to my thighs. He didn’t have any intent on punishing me. He was going to try to fuck me. Was that part of Jack’s instructions. If she’s bratty, make her come? I kept my mouth shut, fearful that there would be a ball gag in Alex’s bag.

I knew we weren’t the first couple to become amorous on an airplane. But would we be the first to play kinky little bondage games? Because magically, Alex had my wrists captured behind my back, so that I was forced into a position of perfect posture. I could feel the bindings holding my wrists together. He had thought of everything—or Jack had. No metal to set off any alarms through the detectors. Soft fabric with fastening tabs. Secure enough so that I was caught precisely how Alex wanted me.

“Face me,” he said, and I shifted my hips, blindfold still on, my bound wrists against the wall of the plane.

“Now spread your thighs.”

I had on black stockings that attached to garters—I’d been hoping for some romance in the air, but with Jack, not Alex. Stockings were far easier than nylons for sex play. Alex slid my panties aside with two fingers, and I steeled myself, unsure of what he was planning. What he was thinking. What he was…

Oh, fuck. He had a clamp.  Something ridged. Something mean that fit right over my clit and sent a fresh wave of shivers through me. Why had I been in such a bratty mood? Why couldn’t I have gone to sleep—or faked sleep, at least—when he’d given me the opportunity? Alex was clearly enjoying himself, and now I was forced to do everything I could not to squeal. I lowered my head, blindfold in place, wondering if people were looking at us.

Alex shifted me so that I was sitting more normally—as normally as possible with my hands bound—completely covered by the blanket, my chair set back. He said something to the flight attendant, but I couldn’t make out the words besides “Catch a little shut eye.”

He was passing on the food, I gathered. Telling her we were going to rest.

I wondered what she thought of the red mask. I wondered whether I looked odd with the blanket up to my chin. But I heard her wheeling the cart away and realized that if I did, she wasn’t going to say anything. Most likely she’d witnessed far more eccentric behavior from her first-class customers in the past.

As I was thinking that, Alex reached under the blanket, this time slowly working my panties down my thighs….

“Jack said you were going to fight,” he whispered, mouth against my ear. “He said to expect a change of attitude with the change in altitude.”

I’ll be honest. I’ve had sex on a plane before. Several times, actually. And different types of sex, as well. But at this point, I wasn’t a member of that infamous Mile High club, and I was fairly nervous about what might happen to us if we were caught. I suppose that I am the rare breed of erotic writer who still is easily embarrassed, the rare type of exhibitionist who doesn’t always want to be seen.

But I was wet as Alex pulled my panties down my thighs, sliding the sodden knickers all the way down my legs and off. And I was ready when he moved his body even closer to mine, when he quickly unclipped the pincher on my clit and his fingertips began to make those dangerous spirals that send me.

I didn’t speak. Mask still on. Certain that everyone around us knew what he was doing to me under the blanket, but slowly finding that I didn’t fully care. My breathing started to speed up. Had Jack told him, “Touch her like this,” or did Alex simply know? This was fairly new ground for us. I was accustomed to Alex threatening me, Alex spanking me, and—when in bed with Jack—Alex fucking me. But there was no reason for him to be teasing me this way, strong hand stroking up and down, then around and around.

“He gave me the toys he thought I’d like to use, the tools you’d crave the most, and he told me to employ my best judgment. Give you pain or pleasure based on the way you behaved. Warn you that I was in charge and see where that got me.”

His fingers continued, sliding inside me, driving inside me. But he was speaking so slowly, so gently, that I felt caught off balance. I wanted to come. And I wanted more. Is that not the story of my life? Always craving more.

“You hate when I’m in charge.”

I didn’t deny the statement.

“But look at you. Look what you let me do to you. If I pinch your clit right, you’ll come, won’t you?”

I turned my head away.

“Is that loyalty?”

Ah, fuck, what were we doing now? His fingers continued their silky little games while his voice made mincemeat of my mind.

“Should I tell Jack how easily you come for me? What do you think he’ll have to say about that?”

My throat constricted. What would Jack say? I had no idea. If he wanted me to come at Alex's command, then this would be a good thing. If he didn't, then I was screwed. I decided that I simply wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let myself come. I would be cold and cruel. I would not melt.

Except the pain from the clamp had set my juices flowing. The fact that I was bound, that I was blindfolded, made me crazy wet. I was already confused because Jack had thrust me onto the plane and into Alex’s arms without any warning. What was I supposed to think? That this was simply another one of Jack’s many daunting tests—performed faithfully by his robotic assistant? When we landed, would Alex hurry to a phone to call Jack, running down my behavior matter-of-factly, listening to what Jack would prescribe for each and every one of my disobedient moments?

Would coming damn me or save me?

“Look at that,” Alex continued, his voice hypnotic. “If I touch you like that, you get your sweet cream all over my fingertips. Are you always wet like this?” And then, after a beat, “Are you wet like this for Jack?”

I would not come. He could touch me for the whole fucking plane ride, and I would not come.

That’s the fairytale I told myself until he moved even closer to me, gaining better access, and began to focus those circles more intently. Tight around my clit. Not touching directly, but so fucking close. I was breathless now, trying my best to be stiff, impassive, but betrayed by my own damn body.

I tried to clench my thighs together, but Alex pushed them easily apart. I tried to shove him aside with one shoulder, and he laughed. “Don’t think I won’t bind your ankles, too,” he said. “Don’t think I won’t leave you like that with the blanket off, so everyone can see. I’ve got a gag as well. You really don’t want to make me angry.”

Because of who I am, because of what I like, those words simply made me wetter. Alex laughed darkly, fingertips dripping from my pussy. He moved his hand out of the safety of the blanket and began tracing his fingertips slowly over my parted lips. “Taste your pleasure. Lie to yourself, if you must, but taste yourself.”

I licked his fingers clean, completely gone now. Over the desire to fight, craving only satisfaction. But Alex, deviant monster, was playing his own game. He pulled off the mask, so that I was left blinking in the light. He pushed back in his own seat and shut his eyes.

“Alex—”

“Do I need the gag?”

Oh, Christ, he was going to leave me like this, under the blanket with my arms behind my back, panties off, pussy wet. On the verge, without release.

I looked at him, pleading, and he finally sat back up, undid the cuffs, rebinding me quickly with my wrists in my lap.

“Get some sleep,” he instructed, “and maybe I’ll reward you in a little while. I don’t want to catch you playing with yourself, though. No matter the temptation.” He made sure I was well covered, pillow under my head, and closed his eyes once more.

Your mind plays tricks on you when you are bound. At least, mine does. I tend to tell myself stories, and by “stories,” I mean lies. That little voice in my head whispers astounding falsehoods. “You don’t need this,” it says. “You don’t have to be cuffed or tied or held in place in order to experience pleasure.” If I’m tied down long enough, the voice will continue. “Why do you give yourself over to someone else? Why do you crave submitting to someone else’s power?” Taunting me. Sneering at me.

The devilish voice doesn’t kick in every time. Only enough to make me question myself. Enough to make me doubt.

I don’t think Alex understood this, but Jack did.

Alex was playing mean, binding my wrists in a way that allowed me to touch myself if I wanted to—while warning me that I’d better not. He’d brought me to the cusp and then left me alone. I rocked my hips on the seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, and I felt Alex watching me. He was waiting, a predator at the ready, to see if I would give him reason to pounce.

I’d be good—as good as I could possibly be. I didn’t need to come. I understood the difference between wants and needs. If Jack had been the one at my side, then maybe I would have played things differently. But this was Alex—and I had competitive feelings toward the man. He’d issued a challenge. I would meet it and win.

Still, I was so wet. All he had to do was stroke me and I’d come. All I had to do was exactly the same thing. Let my thumb crest over my clit. Let my middle finger drag against it.

I’d come in public before. Subtly, quietly, so that nobody knew. Could I take care of myself without Alex being aware? What if I waited for him to actually fall asleep, and then…

As if he knew precisely what I was thinking, Alex slipped one hand under the blanket. He moved closer to me, so that his hand rested protectively over my pussy, cupping me, but not giving me any direct contact or pressure. A makeshift chastity belt. When I turned my head to look at him, he gave me a smug sort of smile and rested his head on my shoulder possessively.

Now, there was no way. I was left all alone with my thoughts.

How had I gotten here? On a trip to Paris with a man I wasn’t dating. A man I wasn’t even sure I liked. Was this what I wanted for real?

Alex’s palm pressed suddenly against me, and I gasped.

“Don’t move,” he whispered. “Close your eyes, and don’t move at all.”

I bit down on my bottom lip, heart pounding, as slowly, so slowly, Alex began to touch me once more.
Don’t move
, he’d said. I wouldn’t move. He brought me back to the edge in seconds, running his fingers around my clit before tapping against me, solidly, perfectly. I held myself in place, eyes still shut, silently begging him, pleading with him to let me come. All of a sudden, I didn’t dislike him. All of a sudden, I didn’t question myself about wants or needs. The quest to climax was overpowering… yet, of course, he didn’t let me reach the end.

I tried to grab his hand, to press down with my bound wrists, but he only laughed.

“You’re so much fucking fun, you know it?”

I turned my head away, but he gripped my chin and made me face him. “And you’re easy. So easy to mess with.”

Nobody likes to hear things like that. I preferred to think of myself as tough. Yet all Alex had to do was stroke my pussy, and I was his. That’s what he was letting me know with his eyes. With his sly smile. I could hate him, and then crave him, going back and forth between those opposing emotions in seconds.

“You like that,” he murmured, slipping his fingers into play. “Just like that,” he continued, fingertips wet with my juices. “You want to beg, but you don’t dare. You want to swear at me, but you don’t dare do that either.”

“Fuck you,” I said, hissing the two words through clenched teeth. I tried to close my thighs, but Alex kept his hand where it was.

“That’s better,” he said. “I don’t like you as much when you’re docile.”

What could Jack have possibly told him? What were his orders? To mess with me for the twelve-hour flight? To keep me teetering until I broke? What on earth was the goal?

“Give me a reason to hurt you,” Alex whispered, as if he were crooning sweet nothings to me. His hand slid up my body to pinch my nipples through my blouse. “Give me a reason, Sam. Be insolent, so I can slap your face. Be a brat. Doesn’t work for me when you’re obedient.” His eyes glittered. “You know that, don’t you?”

To win, did I transform myself into a good girl?

He pinched my nipples harder, twisting them, and I leaned my head back and sighed, trying desperately not to groan.

“God, you’re beautiful when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Take it.”

Where was Jack? I wondered, uselessly. And more importantly: what would Jack want me to do?