Undone (17 page)

‘Aw, these shy little nips,’ she said. ‘Nowhere to hide anymore, have they?’

Again she thumbed away the remnants of gum, and then leaned forwards to bathe my hard nipple in wet, sloppy warmth. This time, I couldn’t help but groan as the intensity of her oral caress swilled around my tip, obliterating any attempt to keep my lust suppressed. With steady luxury, Emma slurped and sucked, her small, gentle hands resting on my waist.

I glanced around at my onlookers, seeing both smirking pleasure and slack-jawed captivation. Patches of dancing white light dappled their faces as if I were in the midst of a grotesque, monochrome forest. The sight made me close my eyes again. It was too much. Between my thighs, lust pounded, my wetness flowing into my skimpy underwear. I was sure my arousal rose, not from Sapphic delights, but from my subjugation in a scene orchestrated by Sol. But either way, I didn’t much care. Deep down, I was lapping it up and yet at the same time, I was praying Sol wouldn’t push this too far. I reminded myself this was for Misha, and I’d agreed to play a role. But now, in the thick of it, I began doubting my ability to stay in character because the character was too much like me.

Emma withdrew and stood, scuffing her thumb over my soaked nipple.

‘Now what?’ she asked, glancing from her partner to Sol by my shoulder. Without waiting for an answer, she slipped a hand between my thigh, crushing my skirt. The taffeta rustled as she sawed back and forth.

‘Feeling good, sweetheart?’ she asked.

I tilted my head back and gazed at the ceiling, shards of light twirling across its dark expanse. I fought to get a grip. I
was
feeling good, head-spinningly, cunt-thumpingly good. But I was also feeling uneasy, half wishing all four of us, Mark included, could explore this dynamic in privacy. If we continued, I didn’t think I had the strength of mind to cope with the regret which would doubtless haunt me when I wasn’t off my head on horniness.

‘Here,’ said Sol from behind. He reached out a hand to Emma, his fist bunched around an object. ‘Put these on her, would you? Then I’m going to take her for a walk.’

Emma took the object. She laughed in wicked delight, holding up two nipple clamps linked by a chain. ‘Now, let’s see,’ she said, edging closer.

‘Oh God, no,’ I breathed. Wetness sluiced through me. My heart fluttered wildly like a bird trying to escape my ribcage and the disco ball’s light-fragments whirled at triple speed.

I held my breath. Emma bent to one nipple and cupped the underswell of my breast, lifting me for her inspection. She squeezed open the jaws of the clamp, bringing the object towards me. Glancing up at my face, she carefully closed the clamp on my tip, keeping the weight of the chain in her palm. The pain escalated sharply but then levelled out. I released a stream of breathy gasps as I adjusted to the sensation. She stroked around my breast with a consolatory gesture.

‘You OK?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, fine,’ I murmured.

‘She’ll let me know if she’s not,’ said Sol.

‘Good to hear,’ replied Emma.

She brought the second clamp to my other nipple. Again, she glanced at me before fastening the metal jaws onto my spiked, sensitive tip. Smiling, she watched my anguished face as the pain rose. When she let go, the chain hung slackly between my breasts. With one finger, Emma lifted the links, tugging lightly upwards so the clamps pulled on my nipples.

She leaned closer, speaking above the music. ‘You’re so responsive,’ she said. ‘Your face hides nothing. Your body shivers when I touch it. So gorgeous.’

She brushed her lips over mine, half mumbling, half kissing, then stepped away. Silver from my lips glinted on hers. I gazed at her with dumbstruck gratitude, not so much for the compliment but for such careful administration of cruelty.

In the corner of my eye, I saw Sol talking to Tom and Mark.

Emma tapped one of the clamps, smiling when I whimpered in response. ‘Given half a chance, I could play with you for hours,’ she said into my ear. ‘Are you wet?’

I nodded, my cheeks burning with desire and shyness.

‘If you and your guy ever want to join me and Mark, you’d be more than welcome.’ She shoved my skirt into my groin again, rubbing hard through the starchy fabric. ‘He doms. I switch. You think you’d like that?’

My throat was parched. I swallowed. ‘I’d need to ask Sol.’

‘You’d need to ask him if you’d like it?’

‘No, if he was up for it.’

‘Ah, I see.’ She stopped rubbing me and unzipped the pocket of a belt around her waist. ‘Here, take our details. We host private play parties.’ She withdrew a card from her belt with a dramatic flourish and then slipped it inside the sash around my waist. ‘Invite only. And I just invited you both. Or you alone, if you wanted. No single guys though.’

Sol and his companions laughed heartily; then Sol clapped Mark on the shoulder, saying goodbye. He moved to stand next to Emma.

‘Nice work,’ he said to her. Briefly he bounced the chain on a finger as if to weigh its length. He stepped behind me. ‘Here, take this,’ he said, his breath tickling by my ear. ‘And this. Got them?’

He slotted our drinks into my cuffed hands, my vodka tonic and his bottle of beer. My fingers clutched the objects, glass clinking against glass. He returned to stand in front of me, raising the nipple chain again.

‘C’mon, this way,’ he said. He nodded at Emma and co. ‘Nice meeting you guys. Maybe catch you later.’

Protesting, I followed Sol in mincing steps, eager not to allow him to exert too much strain on the clamps or to knock into someone who might dislodge them.

‘You enjoyed that,’ I said, mildly accusatory.

‘Totally. And so did you from the looks of things.’ He turned to grin. ‘You OK?’

‘Suppose so. Embarrassed though. And horny.’

‘Cool. Let’s go downstairs, find somewhere to sit. I want to spend some quiet time with you. Oh, hi!’ He glanced back to acknowledge a woman we’d just passed. ‘Lou! Hey, good to see you. Wow, you look amazing, doll! How’s tricks?’

Doll?

He released my nipple-clamp chain and stepped away from me. Lou. Now, where did I know that name from? He embraced her, planting a kiss on her cheek while I stood there like a lemon. He chatted to her without introducing me. Then the penny dropped. She was the woman he’d once dated and his connection to some of the people at Dravendene. What had he said? It didn’t work out, they’d wanted different things. Something bland like that.

I stood in silence as they talked, saw them nod and frown, becoming intense and tender. Doll! He’d called her doll. He never called me doll. A green-eyed monster began growling inside me. My jaw tightened. He touched her arm, his hand on her bare skin. Yeah, and he could do that, couldn’t he, along with the hug he’d given her, because I was his mute underling, standing there with my tits in clips while holding his fucking beer.

The woman pressed her lips together, blinking hard in a fight against emotion. Was she remembering how it used to be when he’d touch her with his fingers, inside and out? And was she the reason Sol had lied to me about his interest in fet nights? She gave a stiff-armed shrug. Sol reached out to squeeze a hand, lunging close to her as a passerby jostled him. She didn’t retreat. She liked it, wanted him. My stomach plummeted. My blood turned to ice. They were practically holding hands in front of me. Christ, any moment now, they’d start fucking. They’d probably done it loads of times in places like this.

My instinct was to flounce off in a huff. I swiftly changed my mind.

‘Don’t I get an intro?’ I said to Sol. I smiled so nicely that my hot, angry cheeks ached with the effort. ‘Hi, I’m Lana. I’d shake hands but…’ I turned to flash my cuffed wrists and the brace of drinks I carried. You get it, doll-face? I’m his. He’s mine. These cuffs? They’re two-way, see, so keep your paws to yourself.

‘Hey, sorry,’ said Sol. ‘Lana, this is Lou. We were just talking about Misha. Lou was at Dravendene Hall as well.’

My smile froze. Gah, how did I miss the most obvious explanation for their awkward intimacy? I was such a hotheaded, petty idiot. ‘Oh, all so awful,’ I said.

‘Apparently the body’s been flown back to his parents in Russia,’ said Lou.

‘Is it? Oh dear. That poor man. His poor family.’

‘A mate of mine heard he had a head wound,’ Lou continued. ‘As if he’d fallen before he … you know.’

‘Yeah, well, anyway.’ Sol shrugged, hooked his arm lightly in mine and gave Lou’s shoulder a squeeze. ‘Let’s not put a downer on the night. Might catch you later, Lou. Talk properly another time. Good to see you.’

Doll
, I mentally added. I tottered alongside him, glass and bottle clinking by my buttocks, vodka tonic moistening my thumb as the liquid sloshed.

‘I thought she might be here,’ said Sol. ‘She seems pretty cut up about what happened.’

Can’t be that cut up if she’s out on the razz, I thought bitterly. ‘Did she know him?’

‘Only by name,’ he said. ‘But she’s sensitive. Highly strung. Enjoys a good drama. I’m glad I’m out of there, to be honest.’

I smiled to myself, pleased he’d made a point of distancing himself from her.

‘Weird that no one seemed to know him very well,’ he added.

But
we
did, I thought. Or, at least, we did temporarily. During that night, we saw a side of him that his friends and relatives would never see. Yet since then we’d become complicit in depicting him as a shadowy figure at the party, exploiting his mystery status to keep our bedroom door locked to a prurient public gaze. The more time went by, the more the secret Sol and I shared became one we couldn’t even discuss together. We couldn’t look our past in the eye. The threesome had never happened.

I’d begun to wonder if this calcification of our secret had a murkier rationale. Did Sol and I have different versions of events that night? Might that be the reason for our tacit silence? What else except guilt on Sol’s part could explain that damp towel in my en suite?

Sol guided me towards the stairs, his hand nudging at the chain running parallel to my spine. One of the nipple clamps began to loosen, causing pain to throb.

‘Sol! The clamps! Ouch, please!’

Instantly, he turned and pinched both clips wide open, freeing me. I howled and cursed as blood surged into the crushed tissue, flooding my nerves with pain. I threw my head back, half laughing and stamping my heel as I rode out the burn. My chain clanked behind me.

‘Well done.’ Sol thumbed around one sore nipple with a delicate touch. ‘Over here. Let me unclip you.’

He ushered me away from the crowds and deftly freed me from the handcuffs and chain. He pocketed the objects and took his drink from me.

‘You OK with your tits on show like that?’ he asked. ‘Why, do you have some pasty adhesive about your person?’ I asked. ‘Or maybe a bra I could borrow?’

He grinned. ‘I love that attitude. Makes me want to spank you.’

‘I think I’ve had enough public shame for one night,’ I said. ‘Come on. Tell me what you learned. We’ve been invited to a sex party, by the way.’

Downstairs, in the larger ground floor bar, we loitered until a space became free on one of the few squashy leather couches. A couple were kissing and groping on one half of the couch so Sol sat next to them. I straddled his lap, face forwards, my skirt ballooning around us.

I turned his peaked cap around. ‘You’re a Yank,’ I said. ‘You’re meant to wear your cap backwards.’

He laughed. ‘It’s not a fucking baseball cap.’

I took a sip of vodka through my straw. ‘Sol, is everything over between you and Lou?’

‘Yeah, totally. We’re just good friends. Not even good friends, to be honest. Just friends, part of a small group. Not even a group. A bunch of loosely connected people. You know how it is.’

Ludicrous that him bumping into an ex bothered me more than him putting me through the discomfort of being humiliated in front of a bunch of strangers.

Sol wedged his beer bottle between the seat cushions and slid his hands under my skirt. ‘I reckon we could fuck like this and no one would even notice.’ He grazed a thumb over my knickers, hand resting on my thigh.

I smiled down at him. ‘I think they’d notice. Unless we were very, very still and quiet.’

‘You OK about that little scene upstairs?’ he asked. His thumb edged past the elastic of my underwear and my wet flesh parted in welcome. He stroked along my slippery groove but made no comment. Arousal thumped there, and I thought maybe he could make me come like that. If I buried my face in his chest and kept my cries low, we wouldn’t attract attention. Not that anyone would care in this hedonistic atmosphere. But it wasn’t about the place, it was about me. I’m too shy to orgasm in front of an incidental audience. Or possibly too concerned about maintaining self-control.

‘Sort of OK,’ I said. ‘Although I would have preferred more notice, and I didn’t feel the performance was warranted.’

His thumb nudged at my wet opening. ‘No?’ he teased, as if he didn’t believe me.

‘No,’ I breathed, edging forwards for more of his fingers.

The kissing couple next to us left.

‘Hey, quick!’ said Sol. ‘Grab that space.’

I protested, laughing, as he bucked me off his lap. Vodka splashed onto my stomach and I flung myself back onto the sofa, legs over his thighs.

‘Perfect,’ he said, grinning. He swivelled around and hunched over to lick vodka tonic from my belly. Desire pounded between my thighs.

‘Listen,’ he said. ‘I’m going to the Gents’ then slipping out for a smoke. Don’t move, OK?’ He stood, gesturing to the cushion he’d just vacated. ‘That’s some prime real estate we’ve got there, best seat in the house. Guard it carefully. I’ll get us a couple of drinks if the bar’s not too busy. Be good.’

I didn’t move from the couch. I didn’t move for the next thirty fucking minutes, and now I really wish I had done.

I’m tired. Sol’s sound asleep in bed next to me. Sporadic early morning traffic is rumbling along Brighton’s seafront road, the noise dulled by the hotel’s double-glazed windows. A slit of dawn light gleams where the heavy curtains don’t quite meet. A straw-gold glow from the dimmed bedside light cocoons me in the dark.