Pantasia
1: Hook, Wine and Tinker -
a novel by Mardi
Ballou
Available in ebook form,
and now also in print from Borders, Waldenbooks, Amazon, and others.
Here's an excerpt.
Enjoy!
. . .
And then Gwyn heard his footsteps in the hallway
outside the door. She blushed when he came through the door and
saw her, sure he could read her thoughts. It was too embarrassing
to admit she’d locked herself in the handcuffs—and also too delicious.
Dominic Laredo was carrying a plate loaded with food—for her. When
she saw him with the food, her traitor stomach grumbled. But more than
the food, the moment she saw him again, she knew beyond any hesitation
that she wanted him. She wanted to know what it would be like to make
love with a man who had antique cuffs in his personal collection. More
than that, she wanted to know what it would be like to have him inside
her when her hands were inside those cuffs. And she wanted to feel herself
all over him when he lay cuffed beneath her. Even if it was only once in
her lifetime.
"Please help yourself to something to eat," he
said, putting the plate down on the small table next to her.
He sounded so normal, being polite to her when her fantasies
had him wild and primitive. Was it possible that the attraction
was all one-sided and she was only imagining he wanted more than
to be a polite host? If she was the only one getting overheated here,
it would be even more embarrassing than getting stuck in the cuffs.
Well, no help for it. She had to show him her cuffed
hands. Rolling her eyes, she held up her bound wrists and waited
for him to laugh. He didn’t.
Instead, he touched her gently. "I should have
warned you about those cuffs. They lock so easily, people get
caught all the time."
She raised her eyebrows. He used these cuffs all
the time? Man, was she in over her head with this guy.
"I’ll get the key," he said. He went over to a
small drawer in his night table and took out a key. His left
hand braced her elbow as he started to unlock the cuff with his
right.
Gwyn could scarcely breathe, both from his touch
on her arm and from her growing desire. Blushing harder, she
whispered, "No. Not yet."
He looked at her like a starving man at a banquet,
then removed the key and put it down.
"As long as I’m in the cuffs already. . ." Her
eyes pleaded with him for what she couldn’t find the words to
ask for.
"Yes," he said.
She took a deep breath. "Please take me in your
arms," she said, amazing herself at how hard it was for her to
say the simple words of what she wanted from him. Her thoughts flickered
to Pete, and she wondered if she was as unable to communicate what
she really wanted with him as with Dominic Laredo.
"You want me to hold you?" he asked, the plate
of food now long put aside and forgotten.
Still holding her cuffed hands up in front of her,
she nodded mutely.
"You don’t have to ask me twice," he said hoarsely.
"As long as you’re sure. . ."
"I am." Her words sounded quavery to her.
He took her in his arms, and the world disappeared.
"Is this what you want?" he asked, putting his arms around her
waist and pulling her close as she held her imprisoned hands up above
her.
"Yes," she said, nearly cross eyed with the wonder
of having him hold her so close.
He nuzzled her neck, spreading heat and light everywhere
he touched with his lips, his breath. Gwyn felt something tightly
held within her break loose, and she moaned her pleasure at his
being with her, like this.
She opened her mouth to invite his kiss and lowered
her cuffed wrists around his neck. His lips began a quick, hot
exploration of her waiting mouth. His tongue danced with hers as he
nibbled her lips, his hands everywhere. He smelled and tasted of
soap, sea, and one hundred per cent male. Gwyn tried to put everything
she was feeling into her kiss, how hot she was for him. She felt as
if all the oxygen had whooshed out of her, and the only way she’d ever
have more would be to get it from him. They broke for air.
He looked at her from the circle of her arms. "Gwyn,
hold that thought."
"What thought?" she asked, as incapable at that
moment of thinking as of running an Olympics sprint.
He chuckled dryly. "I love your sense of humor.
But please excuse me for one moment. Uh, that is if you’ll raise
your arms." Blushing that she’d held him prisoner, she raised her
arms and watched hungrily as he crossed to the cabin door and turned
a knob. He returned to her and hoarsely whispered, "Now we won’t be
interrupted. Gwyn, will you come to my bed, now?"
All she could do was slowly nod her assent and
hold out her still cuffed hands.
"Let me help you out of those clothes," he purred.
Embarrassed to have to wriggle out of the Tinkerbell
outfit and wings while she was handcuffed, glad she’d worn minimal
underwear, hopeful that he wouldn’t be disappointed with her
in any way—with his big hands smoothing the way, Gwyn was nude
in seconds flat—except for the cuffs and the tiny diamond studs
in her ear lobes. "You are so amazingly beautiful," he murmured,
drinking her in with his eyes. Dominic was still dressed, though the
prominent bulge in his pants told Gwyn he’d rather be otherwise.
"Aren’t you going to get naked too?" she asked,
expectation and lust enabling her to find her tongue.
"Now it’s your time," he said, running his hands
over the handcuffs and her arms. "Are you sure this is still
what you want?" he asked.
She nodded.
"You trust me so much, Gwyn? Even with the cuffs
still on you?"
Trust. To her amazement, she found she could say
yes.
He ran his hands down her face, then touched her
hair. "How about if we let down your hair now?"
"My hair?" she asked.
"Yes," he murmured. "I’ve been wondering all night
how your hair would look fanned out on my pillow."
"Oh," she said, wishing she’d regain her power
of intelligent conversation sometime soon.
"And you’ll be much more comfortable. Above all
else, I want your comfort tonight."
His fingers made short work of the pins she’d used
to make her Tinkerbell bun. When she felt her hair flow down
her neck, she shook her head once or twice to try to clear it.
And then she got into his bed.
* * * * *
She was like every dream he’d ever had come true.
And here she was, in his bed. Giving him everything—her luscious
body, her openness to the new, but especially her trust.
Dominic eased Gwyn back among his pillows. He helped
her raise her arms over her head, making her both as comfortable
as someone whose hands were cuffed could be and available to
him. Just as he’d imagined, her hair fanned out like a crown of
sunshine across his pillow. He now had a clear view of her pert,
firm breasts, her flat belly, her feminine core under its golden
blond curls. He didn’t know where to look first, wanted to look everywhere
at once. But looking wasn’t enough. He had to touch her, to possess
her.
She was so amazingly beautiful and vulnerable to
him, lying there. And so nervous and excited—he could feel her
quivering. He felt his own rising anticipation, as if he were an
inexperienced, horny adolescent. But now he could bring all he’d
learned about satisfying a woman to their time together. With her,
he’d rediscover the wonders of unfolding intimacy—and maybe some
of the sense of newness long missing for him.
This first time, he would pleasure her. Though
he was dying for his own release, he wanted her to know how much
he treasured her. He would bring her the satisfaction she deserved
and, if he could read women at all, needed. Dominic sensed Gwyn had
never been loved as completely and thoroughly as he intended to love
her.
He stretched out next to her, first just running
his hands slowly over every inch of her body. She moaned from
the butterfly flicker of his touch, just barely skimming over her
skin. He watched how her nipples hardened when he touched them, first
gently, then with more pressure as she pushed her perfect little breasts
against his questing fingers. Her nipples were a soft pink color,
delicate. He nearly growled with joy as they blossomed and beaded when
he at last took them in his mouth.
Dominic could have suckled at Gwyn’s breasts all
night, but so many other delights awaited. While he used his hand
to play with her nipples, he watched as Gwyn opened her legs, revealing
the damp pink folds beckoning him. He wanted to dive into her, but
first he wanted her to desire him there. He longed for her to be crazy
to have him there—to writhe and call out with her need. It was good,
for their first time together, that he didn’t cuff her legs. He’d postpone
playing that way for another time. He was confident there would be
many more times. There had to be, oh God, there had to be.
This awesome woman needed to have every inch of
her attended to. Keeping his voice steady, Dominic whispered,
"Would you please turn over? I want to see your back."
She groaned her response, her eyes half lidded
with lust. As it was complicated for her to shift with her hands
in the cuffs, he helped her move so that her gorgeous back was to
him.
Smooth. He straddled her, his hard cock pressed
against her back deliciously. Calling on his iron will and self-control,
Dominic bit back his howl of joy. He had to concentrate on her, to
put his own needs off to a remote corner of his feverish brain. But
every moment they were together convinced him more and more that she
was the woman he’d waited so long for.
Dominic placed his hands on her shoulders. He began
to kiss and nibble at her, fisting his hand in her silky hair and
lifting it so he could start at the nape of her swan-like neck, then
tongue the sweet tendrils of blonde hair that escaped his fingers.
Her skin tasted like the sweet cream it resembled. Sweet cream fragrant
with roses and exotic eastern spices. She wriggled, pressing his cock
with her tush so he thought he’d nearly burst with his own pleasure.
Nearly cross-eyed with rock-hard driving need, he lifted his hips slightly
from her to ease the pressure building in him.
He wouldn’t leave a spot of her unexplored, untouched—he
longed to claim every bit. Tongue, teeth, lips, fingers—all played
homage to the miracle of her soft skin. Her scent made him drunk,
the different textures of her skin and the bones beneath brought
his fingertips alive. He tasted her slowly as she ground her feminine
mound into his bed, greeting his kisses with moans and gasps of passion.
When he reached her cheeks, two tight mounds of
alabaster, he playfully kissed and nibbled the tight valley between
them—causing her to gasp with surprise and try to move him away.
"Not there," she said. "Please, don’t kiss me or touch me there."
"Why not?" he asked, lifting his face while his
fingers continued his exploration.
"It’s disgusting," she said, her voice sounding
strained.
"Nothing about you is disgusting," he said. "Every
inch of you is perfection."
"You sure?" she asked.
"Oh, yes," he said, his tongue returning to the
tiny hole.
Her buttocks tightened, telling him she still wasn’t
relaxed, but she didn’t make any further protests. Nonetheless,
he wanted her to continue trusting him, so he moved on to the folds
between her thigh and her butt and let his tongue explore there.
She relaxed, pressing up to meet his touch and his kiss.
He worked his way down her left leg, lavishing
attention on the delicate skin behind her knee, massaging her
firm leg muscles as he let his tongue and teeth and lips continue
exploring. From the way she responded, he knew she’d never before
been loved the way he was loving her. Great as his pleasure was, knowing
that he was taking her to new places made him even higher.
He moved on to her right leg, making sure he kissed
this one as thoroughly as the left. Knowing how delicious they
were, he’d kept the ankles and feet for last. As he tasted the soles
of her feet, once again she protested with concern about smells and
tastes—though not nearly as strongly as when he’d tongued her anus.
Mostly she seemed to be savoring all the new sensations he was giving
her. More than anything, he wanted to convince her that her tastes
and scents enchanted him—and he tried to do so both by filling the room
with his own moans and groans of pleasure and by repeatedly pressing
his screaming cock against her. She had to feel how much what was happening
between them turned him on.
When he’d saturated her with kisses, he helped
her turn over again and started sucking her toes. Oh, she liked
this. He lingered over each toe, especially the small ones, circling
the base and then the tip with his tongue. Then he worked his way
slowly up each foot and leg, massaging, burying his face between her
thighs and her glistening folds. With superhuman will, he held back
from touching her hungry pink core ‘til he’d touched and kissed everywhere
else. Because he knew, once he got to her cunt, he wouldn’t ever want
to leave.
From the top of her legs, he went back to her beautiful
face. She responded with fire and light, nipping him back with
her teeth, joining her tongue to his in a dance that left them both
gasping. Her face, her neck, her breasts—with nipples as hard as
his cock. He tongued under them, working his way down her flat belly,
across her hips.
And then he was there, at her pussy, where he’d
wanted to be since the moment they met. He buried his face in her
folds, savoring the sweet musk. He ran his fingers along those
folds, taking her wetness and sucking it from his fingertips. She
had her legs open wide now, and she was whimpering for him to bring
her to completion. Her cuffed hands moved with her as she writhed
to close the minuscule distance between them.
He slowly slipped one finger into her, and she
closed her legs around him, begging for more. Quickly, he slid
a second finger into her, driving both deep inside. She rode his
two fingers, working her legs to draw him even tighter and higher
in her. Trying to ignore his throbbing cock, he lowered his head for
his first kiss and taste of her swollen clit. She screamed his name
and flung her legs into a vise-like grip around his head.
Christ, she was so hot, she felt like she’d combust
any moment in an explosion that would rock his yacht and the whole
marina. He teased her clit and folds with little flicks of tongue,
inhaling her scent and taste as she thrust herself harder against
him. She needed the long, languorous licks he planted in and on her
rosy petals of flesh, his mouth now dripping with her juices.
She rode him, moving herself to meet his probing
tongue, his kisses, his hot breath. Her sharp intake of breath
told him she was probably moving up to the release she’d been begging
for all night. He urged her on with his eager mouth and fingers,
shuddering with her as she called out to him in a loud, trembling
release.
They collapsed together.
"Thank you," she whispered when she had her breath.
"Oh, God," he said. She didn’t need to thank him.
He told her so. They both lay together in soft silence. Then she
sat up a bit and said, "Dominic, your turn. Get out of those clothes."
He could deny her nothing. But he’d just begun
to unzip his pants to liberate his aching cock when a loud noise
intruded on their private moment. They looked at each other. What
sounded like a small army was hammering on the door to Dominic’s quarters.
"Open up!" someone shouted. They both froze.
©
2004 Mardi Ballou
