Chapter 4 #3
“I can see I’ve put you on the spot.” After pondering the selection for another long moment, during which Tiffany barely drew a breath, he reached for a set of velvet-lined handcuffs, a bottle of lube that heated on contact, massage oil and the first vibrator he’d picked up (with the special back-door attachment).
When picked up the shorter and fatter of the two butt plugs, Tiffany put a hand on his arm to stop him.
“I’m not interested in that.”
Blaine studied her for a charged moment before he returned the plug to the shelf. “We’ve got enough to get us started.”
She stared at him. “Get who started?”
“You, me, us. You can’t sell this stuff if you’ve never used it.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.” He brushed by her on his way back to the main room, stopping to speak close to her ear. “Don’t try to tell me you’re not curious. I know you are.”
“I don’t want all that,” she said.
“How do you know you don’t want it until you’ve tried it?”
“Besides, that stuff is expensive. Did you even bother to look at the price tags?”
“You can’t put a price on pleasure, honey. Whatever it costs, it’s worth every penny.”
“And does this experimentation you’re suggesting work both ways?”
His brows narrowed. “Does what work both ways?”
“If you get to do this stuff to me, I get to do it to you, too.”
The very thought of what they were discussing had her teetering on the verge of an explosive release. Every nerve ending in her body was on fire, like it had been the night before, and he’d barely touched her. Words, she realized, could be a powerful aphrodisiac.
“We’ll negotiate terms during playtime,” he said with a suggestive grin as he dropped the items he’d chosen on the counter.
Three hundred and twenty-five dollars later, Blaine returned his credit card to his wallet.
Tiffany placed the large red-and-white bag on the counter. Not a bad first sale. “Thank you,” she said, embarrassed he’d spent so much money.
“My pleasure—and yours. Will your daughter be home tonight?”
Tiffany shook her head. “She’s with her father until tomorrow.”
He pushed the bag toward her. “I get out of work at eleven. I’ll be at your house by eleven thirty. Leave the front door unlocked. Put the black outfit on and lie on the bed at eleven fifteen with your legs as far apart as you can get them. Make sure the ceiling fan is set to high.”
A shiver of raw desire traveled through her at the power behind his softly spoken words. It had never occurred to her that being dominated, even lightly, could be such a turn-on.
“Put the other things in the bag on the bedside table so I can reach them. Do you understand?”
Tiffany had lost the ability to breathe, let alone speak, so she nodded.
He leaned over the counter as if he were going to kiss her. “One more thing. You’ll need to decide on a safe word.”
“Safe word?” she squeaked.
“A word we’ll use if either of us wants to stop whatever we’re doing.”
“Oh, right,” she said, swallowing frantically. “A safe word.”
“Whatever you want it to be.”
This time when he leaned in close, he kissed her long and hard and deep.
Tiffany’s legs buckled, and she gripped the counter, something she’d done more often since she met him than she had in her entire life before him.
His fingers sank into her hair, and he tilted his head to get a better angle on the kiss. Sweeping strokes of his tongue had her forgetting where they were and that anyone could walk in and catch them. Oh, who was she kidding? No one was going to walk in, except for maybe Patty.
That thought had Tiffany reluctantly withdrawing from the kiss.
Blaine reached for her hand and came around to her side of the counter. “That wasn’t enough, and eleven thirty is a long time from now,” he said, his voice husky and deep.
She reached up to comb her fingers through his hair and brought him down for another passionate kiss.
His hands slid down her back to cup her bottom.
And then he lifted her and started walking toward the back room.
Propping her against the wall, he arranged her legs so they were splayed open, propped on his thighs.
Taking the hem of her dress with him, his hands traveled up her legs until her skirt was bunched at her waist.
“What’s this?” he asked, running his fingers over her panties. “White cotton? On the town’s new lingerie queen?”
“Sometimes white cotton is comfortable,” she managed to say.
“It’s better to absorb dampness,” he said agreeably, “especially a great flood of dampness.”
Moaning, Tiffany tilted her hips, begging for more.
Keeping her panties between them, he worked his fingers back and forth, giving fleeting glances to her most sensitive spot. “Do you want to come, Tiff?”
“Yes, yes!”
“Are you sore today?” he asked, gentling his touch.
“A little.”
“I’m sorry for that,” he whispered, his tongue skimming her neck and sending a shiver of goose bumps dancing over her fevered skin. “I never want to hurt you.”
She tightened the grip she had on his hair and jerked his mouth to hers for a fierce battle of tongues and teeth and lips.
His finger slipped beneath the elastic and into her slickness. He must’ve sensed her urgency, because he focused all his attention on the tight nub, circling and pressing until she came with a keening wail that he smothered with another deep kiss.
“I love watching you come,” he whispered, capturing her bottom lip between his teeth and rolling it back and forth. “It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Mortified to imagine what she must look like at the moment of liftoff, she turned her focus on him. “What about you?” she asked, as he let her slide down the aroused front of him until her feet were on the floor.
She started to press a hand to the bulge in his shorts, but he stopped her.
“Let’s save it for later.” He kissed her forehead, nose and lips. “You might want to take a little nap when you get home. We’ll be up late. Again.”
After another passionate kiss, he left her leaning against the wall, trying to recapture her equilibrium. If all her customers were even half as interesting as her first one, owning this shop was going to be one hell of a wild ride.
After the ringing bells on the door announced his departure, Tiffany ran her fingers through her hair, straightened her dress and went into the tiny pink restroom to freshen up.
Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she thought about the instructions he’d given her.
While part of her couldn’t wait to see him again, the other part—the part that still retained a shred of sanity—was filled with trepidation about what he had planned for her.