Chapter 38

Eleanor Salvatore was already there, drinking water from a champagne glass. “Sit, darlings, sit down…” On the table next to her was a plain brown folder, a double handful of pages contained within the cover. “Do try the Aztec Summer cocktail. It’s always been my favorite.”

With a snap of her fingers, Eleanor summoned their waiter. Pilar didn’t even have to roll her eyes—wait-staff were neverimpressed by the finger snapping business—the wry tip of her mouth was enough. The waiter was professional, though, not even faltering in his slightly chill smile.

“As long as we save room for dessert,” Pilar said.Feather Time by Elizabeth L. Brooks

Shanna waited, trying to compose her mind. Trying to suppress her own desires. This was what she had wanted, wasn’t it?

…Wasn’t it?

Too late, now, to back out. She was naked, tied, helpless before Jules’ desires. Had she really asked for this?

What wereJules’ desires? They hadn’t talked this over nearly enough. She’d wanted to give up control, to be forced to accept whatever came. To let go. Letting go had sounded so appealing when she’d asked for it.

What was taking him so long?

Finally, she heard his tread on the stairs. Shanna turned her head toward the doorway. “Babe?”

“Second thoughts, already?” Jules wasn’t even in the room yet, but Shanna could hear the amusement in his voice.

“I just want to know what you have in mind.”

He came in, sat next to her on the bed. He combed his fingers through her hair, spreading it out around her. “You remember your words?”

“Of course.” She’d chosen them herself, and he’d repeated them four times, as he’d fastened each of the restraints at her wrists and ankles.

Jules stroked her face, traced the line of her throat, outlined her collarbones. “Are you using them?”

Shanna hesitated. His fingers felt good on her skin. “No. I just want to know.”

He smiled, kissed her lightly. “Then no.”

She should be annoyed, she thought. Or apprehensive. But instead, his casual refusal made her skin pull tight. Yes

From behind his back, Jules produced a couple of feathers. Shanna recognized them; they’d been part of a decorative mask. One was broad and droopy, almost fluffy. The other was a pinfeather, long and stiff. He stroked her chest with the softer feather, and her skin raised in gooseflesh.

“That tickles!”

Jules grinned. “Oh, does it?” He trailed it down her arms, her legs. Back up, brushing it over her stomach, then back to her chest, swirling lazy infinity signs around her breasts. She squirmed a little, but the feather’s light, slow touch was almost soothing. She relaxed into it, though she couldn’t help arching a little whenever it approached her nipples.

Shanna let her head fall back, her eyes closing, and Jules all but purred. “Nice. All right: no talking, now.”

Her eyes snapped open. “What?”

He shook his head, mock-mournful. “No talking,” he repeated. What was that in his hand? A stopwatch? He started it and set it on the table. Shanna opened her mouth to ask what it was for, but he held up a hand, and she fell silent.

“Very good. Let’s see how long you can hold it back.”

She didn’t know what he meant, but then he picked up the other feather, and started tracing her skin again. The sculpted, firm tip was less tickly, but still soft. He trailed it across her collarbone, then flicked the tip of one nipple.

Shanna gasped. It had been a light touch, but her skin was puckering tightly, drawing up as if it was reaching out of its own accord for more.

He smiled. “That’s good, yes?” The feather flicked her other nipple, and she arched into it.

Jules continued to trace her body. The feather returned to her nipples often, but not nearly often enough. And when it did, it wasn’t nearly enough pressure, no more than a tease. Deprived of words, she writhed in her bonds, desperate to communicate her need.

She expected him to laugh, to mock her helplessness, but he didn’t. He watched her with eyes wide and dark, and when he spoke, his voice was low and rough. “You’re so beautiful.” Flick.“I can almost taste your wanting.” FlickFlick. “Yes, sweetheart, let it all go.”

He held up the feather so she could see it and deliberately turned it in his hand. She didn’t quite understand until he used the hard tip of the shaft to lightly scratch her skin. Her eyes flew wide, and he leaned down to kiss her, his tongue sliding against hers, sucking on her bottom lip

The feather scratched along the underside of her breasts, and Shanna swallowed hard to keep from moaning. It scratched over her stomach, down the inside of one thigh, back up the other. The scratch traced, oh so delicately, around the lips of her pussy.