Nip-n-Tuck Page 2

  Not that his feelings would have been hurt, she was sure. The reason their trysts were so addictive was that they’d both agreed on their second “date” that nothing would ever come of their meetings. They wouldn’t see each other outside the tailor shop; they wouldn’t call each other. She’d also insisted that he call her “Seamstress” and he’d been thrilled, saying it sounded so much like “Mistress” he didn’t mind a bit.

  Andrew slipped his hands over her breasts and squeezed.

  Since it wasn’t something she’d directed him to do, Gabby rapped the backs of his hands and stiffened in rejection.

  His cock, which he’d snuggled against her bottom, twitched.

  Gabby extricated herself from his embrace and turned, assuming a demure expression. However, her words were firm. “I need your trousers and your shorts.” She held out her hand.

  Eagerly, he unbelted, unbuttoned and shoved them off, remembering to toe off his shoes at the last. When he was nude from the waist down, he handed her his clothing then stood with his hands curled at his sides and his cock rising from his groin.

  She loved his cock. Loved the textures of his soft cockhead and satin-covered steel shaft. She enjoyed the velvety texture of his shaved balls. Even more, she loved that “Tall” could see how erect he was, how attracted he was—to her—because “Tall” was seated in a changing room with his eye against the fisheye lens he’d installed in the door. Standing as she and Andrew were, he could see their profiles. Over the weeks, he’d been the one to assume control over these little scenes, reasoning that since he wasn’t the one touching her soft body, he should at least have a say in what transpired.

  Today, his instructions had been explicit. She stepped out of her plain shoes, unbuttoned her skirt and pushed it down her hips. Because she’d been told to wear no panties, no hose, she was now as nude as Andrew—from the waist down. Carefully, she unbuttoned her blouse to her midriff then parted the cloth and tucked the edges into the sides of her bra. The bra was an underwire with a shelf that supported her soft globes but left the nipples bare.

  Andrew’s breaths deepened. A shiny bead of cream seeped from the narrow slit atop his bulbous crown.

  She’d never stood fully nude, had only teased him with bits of her flesh now and then. Today, her girlie bits above and below were naked—more than she’d ever dared. A thrill quivered down her spine, but she was careful not to allow Andrew to see it. She lifted her chin. “You’ve brought a condom to sheathe your nasty cock?”

  “I have, Seamstress.”

  “Don’t make me wait.”

  He’d held it in his hand while he’d stripped, and she smiled that, because for once, he wasn’t fumbling for his clothing to retrieve it. As handsome and assured as he appeared to the rest of the world, she knew he was a giddy boy with her—eager to please.

  When he’d rolled the condom down his thick shaft, she turned away, climbing onto her step stool then bending to grasp the back of a chair she’d crowded against the wall to make sure it didn’t shift.

  “Andrew?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Fuck me, boy.”

  How quickly had she come to this—so steady, so strong. Able to reduce a handsome man to an eager attendant, ready to follow her every command?

  “Tall” scripted every encounter, and when she’d fumbled at first, he’d scolded, telling her to how to punish herself. Since his first visit to the shop, he’d insisted on Skype sessions, but with his camera turned off, so that he could watch her and make sure that she followed his every command. And although she longed to see his face, to learn more about her admirer—her partner in this illicit new world she’d entered—the fact she couldn’t see him kept her on the edge and constantly horny. She knew she had to earn the privilege to meet him face-to-face, so she eagerly complied with his every request.

  On one occasion, he’d instructed her to use a dildo to fuck Andrew’s ass while she raised her skirt to let him see her play with her cunt.

  “Nip, you were weak,” he’d said during his critique of her performance that night, his dreamy, deep voice invading her bedroom to wrap around her skin like warm silk. “You allowed him to come before you’d found your pleasure.”

  “I didn’t know he’d grow so excited so fast.”

  “You were distracted, not paying attention to how he breathed and moaned, weren’t you?”

  She bit her lips and dipped her head. “Yes,” she said in a small voice.

  “You were thinking about me looking at your juicy cunt—isn’t that so?”

  “Yes.” Gabby squirmed in her chair. Her pussy was growing warm and damp.

  “You need punishment, my dear Nip. Go get a clamp.”

  And then he’d instructed her to remove her skirt and undies and place her legs over the arms of her chair. He’d told her how to play with her clit, when to swirl, when to pinch. And when it was erect, he’d had her place the jaws of her tiny clamp around the burgeoning nubbin, tightening the screw at the side until she’d hissed at the pain.

  Then he’d told her of all the things he wanted—his dreams for their relationship. This was a journey, a dark, delicious one that they would share.

  She was falling in love with him. Aching to know his touch but willing to let him lead.

  So today, she bent over the chair and fondled her breasts while Andrew slid his long thick cock inside her slick pussy and began to fuck her.

  She didn’t dare hide anything—not her expression, not her body’s reaction to Andrew’s energetic plowing. She bumped back to greet his thrusts, playing with her breasts then reaching down to toggle her clit until she was close to exploding.

  “Now, Andrew. You can come now!”

  His groin slapped against her as his fingers tightened on her hips, and she braced herself, taking every hard thrust, tilting her ass higher to achieve just the right angle while feverishly fingering her clit.

  When his breath caught and held, she pinched her nubbin and flew, tossing back her head and biting down on her lower lip to still the shout rising from her throat.

  Andrew stroked her buttocks, patted her thighs, and then slowly withdrew. “Have I pleased you, Seamstress?”

  “Thoroughly,” she said, not turning to watch as he dressed and left.

  Still bent over, she waited, hoping that this time, “Tall” would exit the dressing room and let her see him. That this time, he’d touch her directly. Always before, he’d text her in advance.

  Go to the restroom. I’ll let myself in, dear Nip.

  And afterward, he’d wait, no matter how long she lingered, until she understood that today was not the day he’d join her in the flesh.

  As the seconds passed, she let out the breath she held and slowly pushed herself up.

  The door to the dressing room squeaked.

  She shut her eyes, her heart pounding against her chest.

  A hand smoothed over her bottom giving her a firm glide. Then it left her skin. A second later, a slap landed on her right cheek.

  She jerked, but didn’t say a word, waiting…

  “Lovely, Nip,” he whispered. “You were perfect.”

  Fingers traced the crease between her cheeks then slid lower. Two entered her wet vagina. “I’m tempted. You were very good today. So firm with him. He was so happy; I wish that you could have seen his face as he looked at you. I do believe he adores you.”

  The rustle of fabric sounded behind her, and she tensed.

  “Why is it that you submit to my whims?” he asked, his hand petting her pussy. “Aren’t you ever afraid that I’m toying with you? That I’m a devious bastard who might mean you harm?”

  She shook her head. “The things you said to me when we started our…” She shrugged because she didn’t know what to call this strange relationship.

  “Our affair?” he whispered, fingers entering her again and swirling in the gathering moisture.

  “Yes, our affair,” she said, drawing a deep breath and pressing backw
ard, trying to take his fingers deeper. What was it he’d asked?

  He pinched her buttock hard. “Stay still. Now, tell me. Why do you allow this…with me?”

  She bit her lip, trying to distract herself from her fierce reaction to his touch. Although she’d just come, she was ready again. “Because you know me,” she said, moaning. “Because everything you’ve asked me to do was something I didn’t know I needed until you said it.”

  “You trust me, dear Nip?”

  “I do.”

  His fingers withdrew and he raised her, gripping her shoulders then slowly turning her.

  As her lowered gaze noted his suit jacket, she blinked. A lightweight wool, navy, the cut a little old-fashioned. Her breath held as she slowly took in the tie, a bright red and grey abstract she’d selected for him when he’d spilled coffee on his silver and blue one that morning.

  When she met his gaze, his smile was slightly crooked, his eyes watchful.

  “Marlon?” she whispered.

  “Yes, sweet Gabby, it’s me.”

  “But…” She wasn’t certain what she felt—disappointment, shame, relief…

  Maybe she felt all of those emotions.

  He pressed a finger to her lips to forestall any further words. “I’ll lock the front door and turn the sign.”

  When he left, she sat hard in the wood chair and stared at her hands clasped in her lap. Her boss had been her secret admirer? Her “TallDarkBanker.” What the hell? Dark-haired was the only true descriptor.

  The curtain swished, and he entered the room again. “You’ll want to know how I found your chat room.” At her nod, he grinned. “You used my computer during one of your lunch breaks. You left the screen minimized, but the moment I opened it…” He shrugged. “I couldn’t resist. Online, you were so sweet, so eager. I’ve spent years watching you, trying to figure out how to get you to say yes to seeing me outside this shop.”

  He’d asked her to drinks. To a movie. To watch the raising of the Christmas tree in the town square. And she’d thought he was doing it out of pity because she was so plain and unwanted by every man she’d ever known.

  “Was it fun?” she asked, her voice catching. “To watch me day after day, winding me up and turning me on so that I was desperate to do anything you wanted?”

  His expression darkened, and he squatted next to her chair.

  This close, she noted the blue of his eyes—his best feature—and usually so kind and direct. Today, his gaze was guarded. She followed the length of his slightly hooked nose, the angular jaw. He was only an inch or two taller than she was, and although she’d wondered about his lack of lady friends, had even considered he might be gay, she had been curious about what he looked like nude. He took care of himself, and his thick salt and pepper hair was attractive, but… Good lord, Marlon was the man who’d lured her into this adventure. Sweet, nondescript Marlon. All she could do was stare. How had she been so blind?

  His gaze narrowed, and he straightened his shoulders. “Nip, are you ready for your reward?”

  His voice was different when he was “Tall.” Harder, with an arrogance she’d never seen in him.

  “I’ve worked hard,” she said, though whether she was talking about her ten years of alteration services or the weeks she’d met and played with Andrew, she wasn’t sure.

  “I promised we’d move to the next stage of our relationship when you’d learned enough to please me.”

  She couldn’t help herself. “And have I learned enough?”

  The tension in his face eased. He gave a solemn nod. “Nip, raise your skirt.”

  As though floating in a dream, she reached down and slid her skirt up her thighs then lifted her bottom to pull it higher.

  Marlon tucked a finger into her folds and touched her clit, pressing on it. “Scoot to the edge of the seat, my dear.”

  She did, parting her thighs so that she didn’t bump her knees against his chest.

  “Lean back and grip the seat.”

  As soon as she did, he leaned toward her, his face lowering to her pussy. The first swipe of his tongue along her slit was agonizing. “Oh,” she gasped.

  “Easy,” he whispered. “I’ve been dying to do this, to taste you.” He encouraged her to place her legs over his shoulders then proceeded to kiss and lick and nibble at her cunt until she couldn’t stop the litany of moans and pleas that spilled from her along with her own wet pleasure.

  When she was nearing her peak, he drew back and opened his pants. His cock was long and thick, and when he opened his arms, she went with a happy cry, straddling his lap as she lowered herself, taking all of him to the root.

  Locked together, they shared their first kiss, their first loving caresses.

  “Oh, why did you make me wait so long?” Gabby asked, her eyelids dipping as she grew dazed with pleasure.

  “You haven’t waited nearly as long as I have,” he said, chuckling. Then his hands gripped her waist as he urged her up and down. “There are so many things I want to do with you. Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

  She laughed. “If I’d said yes the first time, is this what we would have done?”

  He shook his head. “No, we would have fumbled through dinner, not knowing what to say, and wondered how we’d ever manage to behave normally around each other at the shop again.”

  “And you expect we’ll be back to normal after this?”

  “You’ll behave if I push a plug into your ass and tell you to keep it there.”

  Shock made her shiver. “I suppose I’d have to, wouldn’t I?” And then suddenly, the brilliance of his game became clear. They had these alter-identities, these personas they could assume to keep things interesting for them personally, but allowing them to function with others around. He’d be her “Tall” and she his “Nip.”

  A finger traced her crack. She widened her eyes, meeting his observant gaze and knowing there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t dare. But there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t either.

  About Delilah Devlin

  Delilah Devlin is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of erotica and erotic romance with a rapidly expanding reputation for writing deliciously edgy stories with complex characters. She has published over a hundred forty erotic stories in multiple genres and lengths, and she is published by Atria/Strebor, Avon, Berkley, Black Lace, Cleis Press, Ellora’s Cave, Grand Central, Harlequin Spice, HarperCollins: Mischief, Kensington, Montlake Romance, Running Press, and Samhain Publishing.

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  From Sm{B}itten:

  True love bites!

  Emmy Harris knows she’s not perfect. She has a little extra padding and isn’t the brightest bulb, but you’d think she was a sexy rock star the way everyone at a certain night club treats her from the moment she walks through the door. In fact, the two sexiest men there can’t seem to keep their hands off her, until one of them sweeps her away to his private domain. A girl like her isn’t going to waste a chance like that! So he’s a little rough and likes to take a nibble or two while he pleasures her. For a girl who didn’t know she’d never experienced a full-blown orgasm before, Dylan’s eccentricities are delicious!

  Dylan O’Hara only wants a night of passion to slake his lusts, but finds Emmy is a full-bodied, red-blooded siren whose innocence and humor draw this Master vampire like a moth to a red-hot flame. When Emmy attracts the attention of a serial-killing vampire, Dylan vows to protect her, but he fears he’ll lose Emmy once she discovers he’s not quite human…

  Be warned. Emmy Harris doesn’t think like most romance heroines. You’ll get a glimpse of her funny little mind here…

  Excerpt

  At his urging, Emmy couldn’t hold back another secon
d. She dug her fingers harder into his hair and pulled. “Come with me,” she said, her voice tight. And then she whimpered. The experience was too much. He was too much—Mr. Stamina. Too hard and lean and beautiful. His lovemaking was astounding and—something she never thought she’d admit—too strenuous. She panted like she’d run laps, something she’d never ever do.

  He shook his head and continued the deep thrusts that pounded against the gate of her womb. Buried to the hilt, he ground his pubic hair against her clitoris until she was so sensitive to the scrape, she thought she might come out of her skin. And she was right effing there, could feel the tension wind tighter in her core.

  But she wanted him with her. This one last time, she needed the whole enchilada. “Baby…bite me.”

  He stopped. His arms grew rigid and his nostrils flared. “Don’t move,” he said, his voice holding a note of desperation.

  “I want you, Dylan. All of you.”

  “Dammit! Emmy, do you even know what you’re asking?”

  “For you to trust me to be strong?” She lifted her hands to his cheeks. “Do you think I haven’t seen your other face?”

  His entire body shuddered, and he closed his eyes. “Then watch,” he whispered.

  Breathless with curiosity and a tinge of fear, she held still beneath him. His eyes opened—not the dark orbs she knew were green—but glowing circles that reflected the waning moonlight, like an animal’s. The better to see me.

  His cheekbones lifted, popping and cracking as his face reassembled into the monster mask, his skin stretched tight around it. His lips curved above teeth that slid over his human set, long and razor sharp, the longest at the four corners of his smile. The better to eat me.