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  “I need you to understand that if we’re fooling around, you can’t be my client. I can show you some of the exercises still and help you, but it can’t be on the books during office hours. I don’t mess around with my patients.”

  “After hours sounds perfect. Friends with exercise benefits then?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jen

  I’m not even sure I know what I’m asking for with Ben. I want to get stronger on my foot, on my prosthetic, in my everyday life. The thought of surfing, of doing semi-normal things, makes my stomach flip over and dance. But I also want to explore things with him. Play with him. Not hide from him.

  He’s the one person in my life right now guaranteed not to cringe from or be turned off by my stump. Although now he’s given me the idea of wearing knee high boots, I could keep them on with another guy and he wouldn’t even have to know about the prosthetic. Until I stumble, fall, can’t balance a foot on the toilet seat while he drills me in the bathroom.

  I can’t imagine Ben drilling me in a bathroom stall. He’s the kind of guy who’d book an expensive hotel room and fuck me from behind against a wall of glass while a city of lights watched on. That’d be fun too.

  He’s drinking. His gulp is loud. I imagine his Adam’s apple bobbing on his throat and it makes me want to climb onto his lap and finish what I started by going down on him. I’ve never given anyone a blow job in a restaurant before. I’ve never had a finger in my pussy at dinner before either.

  I eat another mouthful of the food and it’s lovely. Lamb I think. It took me three goes to find it with my fork too. I just can’t concentrate on anything when my insides are throbbing, demanding release. How can he do this regularly? I need completion.

  “If we do this,” he starts and then stops for a long moment. “If we do this, we do it my way. Everything. I say jump, you say how high.”

  “Are you talking about the sex or the rest?” Fear fills me because the tone he’s using means he’s going to put me in some awkward spots.

  “All of it. Take it or leave it. And you see no one else. Romantically or professionally.”

  I snort a laugh. “Eleven months remember. I’m not seeing anyone else.”

  “So, you agree?”

  “No. Not in all things. I’ll jump behind closed doors and when it’s just you and me, but at the studio you’re not the boss. You can’t come between me and the people I ink.”

  I think he’s grinding his teeth. I’m taking a risk adding a caveat, but he doesn’t own me and the day he thinks he does, I bounce. I don’t belong to anyone no matter how thrilling this all might be. The silence stretches and it’s probably a deal breaker for him since his work obviously means a lot. I keep eating, drink more wine, let him think. I know he’s still there because he has a presence I can feel.

  Something else occurs to me. “Do we need some kind of fifty shades agreement here? A safe word? I’m serious about some ground rules.”

  That grabs his attention. “What rules?”

  I eat another mouthful. Make him wait. “You can’t tie me up and leave the room. Ever. I’m not letting someone find me like that with my pants down. Or off.”

  He actually chuckles. “Agreed. But does that mean you’re open to being tied up?”

  “Not like a rolled pork. We’d have to talk about that.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Not that I want to talk about here.”

  “But there is more?”

  “Maybe.”

  He growls and it’s not the first time he’s made the noise. It’s primal, like the control he holds onto so tightly might be about to snap the leash. I wipe my mouth with the napkin and say, “Do you want to skip dessert? Get out of here.”

  In less than five minutes we’re outside and waiting for the car to be brought around by the valet. Ben’s holding my hand so tight it nearly hurts. It’s cooler now so I lean into him, open the lapel of his shirt and kiss the skin there. He shudders and I know I’ve pushed one of his buttons. I want to push some more.

  “It’s a long drive back,” he tells me. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

  He already said that. “I would have finished it if you’d let me.”

  He holds my cheeks with his palms, looks deep into my eyes and says, “When I come, I want to see you. I want to see my dick in your mouth. I want to watch you watching me.”

  “Fuck,” I breathe. This is so intense. I’ve never met anyone like him.

  “That’s a slap,” he reminds me.

  I nod. I almost repeat the word. It’s worth two slaps if he’s going to bend me over again. Bare my arse. If we don’t get in the car soon, I’m going to drip.

  “Tell me your other rules,” he says.

  “No toys in my bum.”

  He quirks a brow. “No toys but not no go?”

  “I’d try almost anything once but it’s on the maybe list.”

  “What else?”

  “You have to agree to fuck me. Put a number on it if we have to. I want to come and I want to come often.”

  “I can make you come in so many other ways, isn’t that enough?”

  He makes it sound like fucking is a hardship for him. I don’t get it.

  His jeep pulls up and he hands me in again, the chivalrous gentleman once more. Only, now I’ve tasted him and he’s tasted me. He has proclivities I never knew existed and I’m not weirded out by them. I’m one hundred percent turned on and it’s getting uncomfortable.

  We drive for a few minutes before I ask, “How many times do you withhold before you let go?”

  “It’s not like that. I know some guys who need to jerk off every day. Like an addiction. When I come, I want it to be earth-shattering every time.”

  “Doesn’t that hurt though?”

  He shrugs and I get another look into his fantasies. “You like the pain.” Not a question. A statement.

  “I don’t mind it.”

  “Do you want me to hurt you?” Because that would be a deal breaker.

  “No, god no. You’re making it sound like I’m some kind of deviate.”

  I laugh. “You kind of are.”

  “A little slapping and holding back doesn’t make me weird. Just different. I guess.”

  “If you say so,” I taunt him. I’m trying to understand but it’s like there’s something he’s not telling me, something he doesn’t want to share. That’s okay. For now. As long as it’s fun, I’m in. If it gets heavy or hard, I’m out. Easy.

  “Have you heard of the Kama Sutra?”

  “The sex book? Who hasn’t. Remember where I grew up?”

  His laughter is carried away on the wind. “I forgot about the sex shop. It’s not just a sex book. It’s about pleasure, virtue, success. It’s about a man making sure the woman is satisfied before himself.”

  “Hallelujah,” I yell into the night.

  “Your generation is addicted to instant gratification. You want what you want but you want it now, yesterday. You never want to wait long enough to weight the pros and cons, think about the consequences, enjoy the success of hard work.”

  “Pretty sure our generations aren’t so far apart,” I tell him with a grumble.

  “Call me old fashioned then. I just want more from my life.”

  He’s making me feel immature, young. So young. “I think about stuff. I think about consequences.” Sometimes.

  He takes his eyes off the road for a sec and gives me a pointed glare. He switches his attention back but then he says to me, “If we had sex in the pool, or at your unit, the dynamics of this thing between us changes. Dinner tonight would have been in instead of out. Chances are I’d have grunted over you already, you’d be asleep and I’d be sneaking out to get back to my place. Or you’d have got what you wanted, a quick hard fuck, and we’d go right back to mortal enemies arguing over life choices. By prolonging the end, we’ve enjoyed more of the journey.”

  “You sound like some kind of sexual Yoda.”


  He laughs again. “Not Yoda, not even close. I’ve just been doing this a while.”

  “How long?”

  “I was barely sixteen before I knew what I didn’t want. I was in my twenties when I could put a name to it, do some research, understand it. It’s like a personality type. Sort of.”

  “And this is what shaped you?” I ask him because there’s more to it. More to him.

  His hand lands on my knee. Warm and sure. “You want to know my life story?”

  Our conversation has carried us back to the coast. I can smell the sea and salt in the air. “I don’t need the life story. I just need to know this isn’t going to get weirder than slapping and that there’s going to be fucking in my future.”

  “There’s going to be punishment in your future,” he promises.

  I slide his hand from my knee, up my leg. I watch him gulp, shift his grip on the steering wheel. “Can’t fucking wait,” I tell him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ben

  I have to have her. I don’t think I can wait much longer. I take a hard left toward the shore, a right and another left until we’re in a carpark I hope will be deserted since it’s almost midnight. I tell myself this is not losing control. It’s been eleven months for her. It’s been eight for me. That’s long enough.

  I see no other cars but I pull into the furthest spot partially hidden and out of reach of the single street light’s glow. I throw the gear into ‘park’ and don’t even bother with the handbrake. I wrench my seat belt off and reach for her. Her arse hits the horn as I drag her over the bench seat and she throws her head back and laughs. I slide the seat as far back as it will go and then feast on her neck, her collarbone, her cleavage. I cup her jaw and kiss her lips, slide my tongue over hers, feel the sharp graze of her teeth. There’s an urgency between us and before she can fully sit on my lap, I reach under her short skirt and dip into her pussy. She’s so wet. So tight. I grab her arse cheek and squeeze. She reaches for my button, unzips me and frees my cock. She’s right. It is almost painful.

  I can’t dish out the punishment here. She knew what she was doing when she swore. She was inviting me to spank.

  “Do you have a condom?” She’s panting and riding my fingers while pulling her dress back from her magnificent tits.

  My cock brushes her pussy as I wriggle to free my wallet from my pocket. It would be so easy to push up into her, slam her down until she’s riding me. There’s a thunk and she stills.

  “My leg,” she says, reaching for her fallen boot.

  “Leave it,” I tell her.

  “I…I’m not sure I can.”

  I tear open the condom packet and roll the rubber over my length. I finally look at her. “Jen. Leave it.”

  “O-okay. As long as you don’t mind.”

  I stray my touch down her thighs, over the creases at the back of her knees and lower until I brush the sock on her stump on one side and her ankle on the other. “You said you’d do what I say when it’s just the two of us.”

  A slight smirk lifts one side of her lips. “I haven’t agreed to any of that yet.”

  I readjust my grip back up to her hips and slowly slide her down the length of my dick, inch by precious inch. She’s tight and it’s heaven and hell all rolled into one little package. “Leave the leg. Let me fuck you.”

  She takes control and lifts, her hands on my shoulders. I swear again when she slides back down. The friction, even with the condom, is glorious. I thread my fingers into her hair and pull her mouth to mine for a kiss that will steal both of our breaths. She’s driving me wild but I need more. By the sounds she’s making, she needs more too. I open the car door, wrap my arms around her tight, and stand us both up. Jen shrieks against my mouth. I keep kissing her so she can’t ask questions or second-guess any of it. I don’t want her to call a stop to it because we’re in public or because she dropped her leg. I can’t let her slow it down. Not now.

  I’m tall so the hood of my jeep is the perfect place for her arse. We should have done this in a bed. She’d have been so much more comfortable in a bed, but we’ve started, we can’t stop.

  I lie her down on the warm metal, hike her dress up just that little bit further so I can see everything by the light of the moon and half a streetlight. She has that cute strip of hair, the one that called to me when I went down on her. I pull out a bit, then slam back into her. The car rocks. I do it again. And again and again. The noises she’s making sound almost animalistic. Primal. My chest swells which is hard because breathing is hard right now.

  “Don’t slow down,” she tells me, half-panting, half moaning. She has one hand on her tit and the other creeps down her body. I’m lucky I have a good hold of her hips as I drive into her because when she rubs her clit, it makes me mindless. The leash holding my famous control snaps and cracks like it’s been in a tug of war. My mind goes blank as I close my eyes and think of nothing but my cock in her pussy, the pleasure, the pain. She cries out, her heel digs into my backside and her insides contract around me. Colour explodes on the backs of my eyelids, my balls tighten, my heart stops beating, and I come.

  I finally come. My entire body experiences the rush from my fingertips to my toes. It’s euphoric and magnificent and painful and amazing.

  I collapse over her sweat sheened skin as she tries to get her breathing under control. My weight probably doesn’t help much but I don’t want to move off her, from her, away.

  I like the feel of her arms as she wraps them around me and whispers, “Oh. My. God.”

  “Are you okay?” I ask her.

  She laughs and her belly presses against my belly. “I’m more than okay.” She bites my shoulder with more lips than teeth, and my cock twitches inside her.

  “If you keep doing that, we’ll never leave this spot.”

  She clenches her pelvic floor around me and I lift from her but I don’t withdraw. Not yet.

  “We’re going to be seen,” I tell her.

  “You could have taken me home, or back to your place.”

  I shrug and trail a hand over her chest, kneading her tit, loving the way it fits against my palm. “You started it.”

  Her muscles clench again. “And you finished it. Sorry I ever doubted you.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” I withdraw, reluctantly, and she sits up on my bonnet, legs open, dress open, a grin on her beautiful mouth.

  “I’m great. More than great. I don’t know if that was the best sex I’ve ever had or it’s been so long, my brain is telling me it is.”

  I frown. “You don’t know?”

  “Guess we’ll have to do it again so I can be sure.”

  I chuckle, pull the condom off, knot the end, and fix my clothes. Nothing will straighten my shirt or jacket so I don’t even bother. I zip back up and refasten the button she has a habit of undoing. She rearranges her dress but doesn’t jump to the ground. She’s just staring at me. I can’t tell what the look is.

  “So, I think we’ve gone beyond you helping me out with a few exercise sessions. Were you serious about teaching me to surf?”

  Ordinarily I wouldn’t touch that would with a ten-foot barge pole but she’s a strong swimmer, or at least she was. “Tell you what. Come back to mum’s with me, to the pool, and I’ll run you through some paces, see if it’s possible or a pipe dream. Sound good?”

  “Won’t they be home soon?”

  “Nah, they left a message this morning. They’ve been delayed a few more days.”

  “Poor Gizmo. I’m going to say yes, but there’s a condition.”

  I groan and rub my forehead. “What is it?”

  “We spend some actual time with the cat. He must be so lonely.”

  “Some people like the solitary life,” I tell her, watching carefully for a response.

  “Not me,” she says in return, staring off into the black night. “I like people. For the most part.”

  I’m saved a reply when the sound of an engine breaks the mood and headli
ghts illuminate the carpark. “Shit,” I mumble. “Cops.”

  She laughs and says, “Be cool. I got this.”

  We’re not currently doing anything wrong and apart from the used condom in my pocket, he’s likely going to tell us to leave and we will. I want to see what Jen does though.

  “Good evening, Officer,” she says with an easy smile.

  “Ma’am,” he tips his cap. He’s young. Really young. His partner stays in the car and is likely running my plates. “Everything okay here?”

  “Yeah,” she replies with a long sigh. A little too far right of dramatic as she lowers her chin to her chest. “I was just trying to gather the courage to come back here. To confront my demons. Looks like tonight isn’t the night.”

  “I’m not sure I follow,” he says, puzzled.

  Jen pushes my shoulder and I move away from her so she can swivel on the hood of my car, show the officer her leg, or lack of. I have to stop myself from shaking my head or laughing.

  “It’s been a while since the shark took my foot. I haven’t been this close to the beach since.”

  “Oh jeez.” The young constable looks instantly uncomfortable and shifts his weight on his own two good feet. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks, that means a lot,” she tells him.

  A frown pulls his eyebrows down and he can’t look at her stump even though the sock is still on it. “You weren’t thinking of going for a swim were you?” Now he’s looking at me.

  “No, sir. God no. She just wanted to hear the sounds of the ocean.”

  “You from around here?” he asks me, indicating the car. Victorian number plates probably look suss, though for what reason, I have no idea.

  “Moved back a few months ago.”

  The police officer looks back to his offsider still in the car. The other man nods and gives him the thumbs up through the clean windshield. “Okay. Listen, it’s late and I can’t imagine you’re going for a swim, but I also don’t want to take the risk. How about you head on home for the evening?”

  Jen slides towards me and I reach out to help her down. “We were just leaving,” she says. “Good night.”