Page 68 of His Custody

He stroked her, in and out for a minute, spreading the lube over her inner walls and then added more lube and a second finger, spending more time than necessary passing his fingertips over the dildo buried inside her through the thin membrane, probably wishing it were his cock, or because it was Jasper, knowing later on, it would be.

He withdrew his fingers and replaced it with a slim plug, easy to take, and then he helped her to stand before strapping on a harness to keep the toys inside her for the evening, covering the whole operation with a pair of satin underwear. He tipped up her head to look him in the eye.

“You’ll tell me if this gets uncomfortable. You’re out of practice and it wouldn’t be surprising if you couldn’t take it for as long as you did before. I don’t want to hurt you.” His eyebrow twitched up. “Well, like that.”

“Yes, Master.”

It did feel strange after being empty for so long, but not bad. He steered her by her elbow to where the dress was hanging and took it off the hanger, urging her to step into it. The leather whispered over her skin as he drew it up her legs, over her hips and waist, settling the boned bodice along her ribcage before he took the collar and buckled it around her neck. Though it wasn’t a true collar, this was as close as they’d ever get to playing in public. She was flooded by a new hotness, secret exhibitionism.

She’d do it for him, but circumstances being as they were, they’d never be able to. But this? Thank god for pop stars who thought bondage was cool, fashionable. And better, or really,more, there was a tug at the top of the bodice that continued down her ribs to the small of her back. A corset. He was trying to kill her. Kill her dead of lust or maybe dehydration because she was going to be drenched through this whole party. She’d be lucky if her arousal weren’t slicking the insides of her thighs by the time this was over.

He grunted something about not being able to lace it properly, and it tipped up the corner of her mouth again. Her poor, lovely Jasper, not being able to make her appropriately breathless and contained. When he was satisfied, he turned her around to face him and got down on his knees, extracting a box from under the island. It wasn’t a standard-sized shoe box, but more like a boot box. And when he opened it... It would be a miracle if she didn’t come before she could walk out of the house.

He took out one of the shoes, and she offered him her foot. He took it in his hands and raised it high to take her pinky toe in his mouth and sink his teeth into the pad. As he did, her internal muscles contracted around the toys he’d put in her. Holy Mary, mother of—

“Don’t come, bad girl. You’ll be on your best behavior for this or else.”

He eased her foot into the base of the shoe and then started fastening the straps, one by freaking one. Heeled, knee-high gladiator sandals. With every buckle cinched around her skin, she got more and more breathless until she had to grip the side of the island before she fainted.

“Keyne, sweetheart, are you all right?”

Barely restrained spastic nodding. “Yes, Master, I, I—”

“Couldn’t be more turned on unless your tits were clamped and you were strung up to the ceiling with a bit gag in your mouth while I took the crop to you?” That smug bastard. He knew exactly what this was doing to her, and he was loving it.

Her knuckles whitened on the side of the island. “Jasper...”

“Oh, you are excited, aren’t you? Hold on tight, I need your other foot.” On this foot, he tongued and sucked every toe, biting hard on the pads and running his tongue along her arch. The notion of people quivering with desire had always seemed ridiculous, but there was no other word for it. “You have the most delicious feet. I could eat you alive and I’d start right here.”

“Devour me, please.”

He chuffed a laugh that made her pussy tighten. He wasn’t immune to this, was probably as desperate as she was, but the illusion of indifference, god, he was so fucking good. So instead of nipping more at her eager, aching flesh, he guided her foot into the shoe and strapped her ankle in, then inch by inch of her shin, all the way up to her knee. When he was done, he put her foot down and stood to peel her hands off the lip of the island where they were clenched.

Forcing the small of her back against the ledge, he took her hands in his and brought them to his lips, kissing and nipping her fingertips. He pushed his hips into hers, giving her a tease of how hard and hot he was for her, his thick heavy cock digging into her belly.

“You remember how to play this game, yes?”

“Yes, Master.”

She did, but he’d remind her and she’d relish the instruction.

“You may not hold my hand, you may not kiss me. If you need me you will find me but you will spend most of the evening with other people. You’re not a girl anymore, I made sure of it, but until you’ve finished school, we have got to be—”

“Beyond reproach. I understand, Master.”

“Good.”

He reached beyond her and handed her a small clutch. Scored black leather over neon printed silk and a brash gold chain she could loop over her wrist. She took it, surprised by the weight. Since they’d been together, she’d always taken a clutch for show, but they’d been empty. Jasper had everything she’d need. If she needed her phone, cash, lip gloss, she’d had to ask.

She opened her mouth to protest but he silenced her with a glance. “We took too many chances before. You’re an adult, you should carry your own things.” Seeing her eyes water and her chin wrinkle, he amended, “For now.”

“For now” she could live with. She’d have to. She tried to take comfort that this was what he wanted, but it was hard when she suspected he was shoving down his own desires for safety’s sake as well as for hers. Goddamn other people. She almost wished they’d had to flee the country. Then she could be holed up with Jasper in luxurious seclusion where no one would bother them and they could play their games in peace. But that would’ve meant Jasper would’ve been seen as a sick freak taking advantage of her and she didn’t want his reputation tarnished. Not beyond repair anyway.

“Yes, Master.”

He planted a cool, dry kiss on her forehead and rubbed a thumb over her scar and tattoo. “You want to cover up?”

She shook her head. She wasn’t going to hide it anymore. If they wanted to gawk at her damaged skin and her ink, let them. They’d be making the gossip columns as it was, her looking like she did.

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