Page 22 of Salt Kiss
By now, I’ve given up all hope of making myself leave. I stand there, frozen, breathing nearly as hard as they are, having to reach down to adjust the bulge in my pants. My hand lingers there after I’m done, the heel of my palm grinding mindlessly against the stiff flesh.
I have to force myself to drop it. I can’t masturbate. I can’t take his place. I can’t take her place. No matter how badly I want to.
She climaxes with a scream that leaves no doubt how deeply she’s feeling her pleasure. Between the toy and Mark’s relentless thrusts, I have to imagine it’s as deep as her blood, as deep as her bones.
“There we go,” mutters Mark, spearing into her. Even through his suit trousers, I see the moving muscles of his thighs, his backside, and through his shirt, I see the flex and strain of his back and shoulders as he drops the wand and wraps his hands around her soft waist to hold her still. Because he’s driving into her so hard now that even the ropes can’t keep her from being literally fucked away from the edge of the desk.
He ducks his head, and his hair leaves its carefully styled tousle and falls forward over his face. Silhouetted against the sun coming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I see it perfectly. I see his lips part too, and I hear a muttered curse.
He drives in a final time, so deep that I almost feel it all the way over here, and then he holds himself completely still as he pumps his release into her body. She’s still coming down from her own peak, breathing hard and half whimpering, and he keeps his hands tight on her waist as he finishes.
It takes me a minute to realize that he’s looking over at me. Watching me as his balls drain.
A surge of heat so urgent I worry I’m going to ejaculate right then and there yanks at my thighs and belly, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from going over the edge. And then the moment ends anyway, Mark closing his eyes once and withdrawing.
After sex like that, no one could fault him for collapsing in his chair and catching his breath, but Mark is already disposing of the condom and buttoning himself up by the time the thought finishes flickering through my mind. He drops a kiss on the woman’s stomach and starts unknotting the ropes with a practiced deftness that reminds me that Mark is the original here. The founder and king of this kinky kingdom.
Soon she is sitting up with a blanket around her shoulders, a glass of water in her hands. Mark tucks a knuckle under her chin and lifts her face to his. He murmurs something to her that I can’t hear, and she murmurs back, equally low.
Even though I can’t make out what’s exchanged, I can see her expression as she looks up at him, and it’s one that borders on worshipful. After a few more words, she slides off the table and disappears into the small bathroom just inside the hallway which leads to his private apartment. She’s shorter than I’d initially thought, and then suddenly Andrea’s words from my first night come to me.
Little blond.
Mark is wrapping the ropes into neat coils, and then with a look at me that clearly saysstay put, he disappears into his apartment with the rope and the vibrator.
The submissive emerges dressed in a bright yellow sundress which should clash with her Titian hair but doesn’t at all. She still has the white latex gloves on, utterly incongruous with the small gold necklace at her throat and delicate leather sandals on her tiny feet.
“Thank you again, Ms. Beroul,” Mark says, taking her hand and dropping his head down to brush his lips over her knuckles.
Even through her gloves, she must feel it because she gives a small shudder. “Anytime, Mr. Trevena,” she says huskily, and then she leaves, her topaz-brown eyes flashing once to me in an interested glance, which I return.
“Well, Tristan?” asks Mark, heading behind his desk and putting his suit jacket back on. “You wanted to go over the schedule, I presume. And bring that here. I want to drink it before it’s completely cold.”
Thirty minutes later,I leave Mark’s office with as much dignity as can be expected. I didn’t cream the inside of my pants, I didn’t stammer and flush while we went over the schedule, and in fact, the only time I found myself unable to speak was when Mark took the mug from me and saw it was a cappuccino and not just a regular coffee. The expression on his face had been so pleased then that I was grateful I was already about to sit down.
It could bring a man to his knees, that expression on Mark Trevena’s face.
But even though I’ve mostly got my hard-on under control, I’m still restless from the morning as I make my way to Andrea’s office to return a folder Mark just finished signing his way through.
“Couldn’t find Sedge, could he?” Andrea asks, extending her hand to take the file and not bothering to look at me. She’s in her uniform of a pantsuit and a low, sleek ponytail, and her expression is the usual one she wears around me—like I’m about to disappoint her.
“I was already in his office,” I explain. My voice is a little hoarser than normal, and she looks up. Something deep in her expression shifts.
“Was Mark with someone this morning?”
I don’t know how closely I need to guard his privacy from her, but I suppose my silence is enough of an answer.
“First time you’ve seen him in action, then?” she asks, leaning back in her chair a little.
Again, I don’t answer, and again, it seems to be its own answer.
She looks down at her desk, and for once, there’s nothing sharp or dismissive in her tone. “There aren’t a lot of Dominants like him,” she says after a minute. “Even here. Mark could make someone kneel for him in the brightly lit aisle of a grocery store. He could gag them with a dirty radish, and they’d thank him for it.”
Yes. They would.
“It was the little blond submissive you mentioned,” I say, passing a hand over my face. I’m still too hot, my clothes too tight. The minute I have a break in the day’s schedule, I’m running to my apartment to rub away the need still fussing against my zipper.
“The little blond submissive... Oh. No,” Andrea says, shaking her head. “She’s not in the city, or I guarantee you that we’d know about it.”
