I never expected to be standing almost naked in the middle of a square in Riga, my hands tied behind my back, hobbles on my feet, a ball gag shoved into my mouth so far I could almost feel the rubber pressing against my tonsils. If you’d asked me two weeks ago what I’d be doing on the second Tuesday of October, I’d have told you I’d probably be in my gym, teaching a Muay Thai class to fourth-graders. But instead, I was down to just my black bra and lace thong, teetering on my high red heels, displayed as if I were some kind of art installation. What I was most embarrassed by was how wet I was. I glanced down, just once, to see if it was obvious. I hated to move my head at all—any motion seemed to make the people drinking coffee at the little tables dotting the square notice me all over again. And yes, it was obvious. I’d dripped through the lace at my crotch, and the concrete at my feet was slick. I’d never been more embarrassed in my life. I glanced back up and caught Jake’s eye. He’d been drinking his espresso and speaking to the shop owner in a language I couldn’t understand, but now he stood.
Thank goodness. Maybe this was all we’d do today. He would take me back to the hotel and let me put my clothes back on, and we’d go down to the bar and laugh about this over some strange Eastern European alcohol that I couldn’t pronounce. Jake and I went way back, after all. We were friends. Sure, it was weird as hell to be here like this, with him, but it would make a hell of a dinner party story someday, right?
Instead of leading me away gently, though, Jake touched the top of my breast above my bra, right where I was most sensitive. If I could have moved my mouth around the gag, I would have gasped, but as it was, I just sucked spittle around the rubber, my eyes widening, tearing at the surprise. He leaned in and said low in my ear, “How dare you drip like that? What were you thinking, whore? I should make you get down on your knees and lick it up, only you’d like that too much.” He smacked the top of my breast lightly, then harder, a solid slap that echoed sharply in the square. I knew my cheeks couldn’t get any redder, and my stomach was in knots. Quaking, I knew my juices were running even more. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop the reaction, that heated rush.
That was the awful, wonderful part.
I was terrified.
From Dominating Anna:
A gust heaved a wall of water at the glass, and she had to get close to the window to see out into the night, past her own reflection. Cabs patrolled below, gleaming yellow, cutting through the reflective streets. A man stood on the opposite side, under her favorite elm tree. He was large, taller than the men that hurried down the sidewalks behind him. He was almost as big as Zee, actually.
It was Zee.
What the hell was he doing out there in the rain? Looking up at her apartment wasn’t an accident. He’d tracked her here. Easy, he didn’t track you—you gave the company your address.
His arms were folded, and he didn’t hold an umbrella. He wasn’t even wearing a rain coat. The rain sluiced over his leather motorcycle jacket, his jeans gone black with wet. His dark hair dripped into his eyes. The eyes that didn’t break from hers, that didn’t make any apology whatsoever for being caught.
Anna knew she should step backward toward the darkened kitchen. She should at least hit the living room light and take herself out of his view. Whatever the hell he thought he was playing at wasn’t funny. Her hand trembled as she took a long sip of her gin. Instead of stepping away or turning out the light, though, she didn’t move.
She set the glass on the table next to her.
There were only a few ways to play this.
She could pretend she’d never seen him and turn out the lights and go to bed. But really, Anna wasn’t tired. Not yet. Not even close.
She could go outside and speak to him, find out what the hell he was doing. But it was raining harder now. It looked cold. It was nice and dry inside.
There was, of course, a third way to go.
She could give him a show. Prove to him that she was up for this.
Ridiculous. Anna couldn’t.
Why, then, did she reach for the hem of her dress? Instead of taking the time to unbutton it for the second time today, she simply lifted it up and off.
She stood shaking in her window, wearing just the bra and panties he’d already seen once.
Her street was narrow, barely enough room for one car to pass between the parked cars. Even though Zee stood on the other side of the street, she was close enough to him to see his eyes narrow. Something that ran between them, through the glass, through the heavy raindrops, something that ran from her fingertips to his mouth which twitched as if she’d touched him.
Jesus Christ, what Anna wanted most in the whole world was to press her lips against that scar at the corner of his mouth. She didn’t care about the story that went with it. She just wanted to touch him. It was a stupid desire, one she didn’t understand. This was ridiculous, all of it.
She should know better. She should turn off the lights and go to bed.
Instead, Anna touched herself.
She slipped her right hand into the top of her panties. Slowly, so slowly, she dipped one finger into the wetness she’d had between her legs since she’d left Brooklyn. With her other hand, she pulled down the lace of her bra, exposing her nipple to the air. She tested it with her fingers, teasing herself until her nipple was hard, pointing straight at him.
Zee’s mouth straightened, as if he were trying hard to prevent himself from speaking. That was fine. He could speak. He could say whatever the hell he wanted, and it wouldn’t matter. Anna couldn’t hear him. He couldn’t tell her to stop.
She slipped her panties down now, all the way off. Stepping out of them, she pulled the lace on the other cup of her bra down so that now she was naked except for the bra, which displayed, rather than hid, her breasts.
Anyone could see her. Her neighbors across the street, the cab driver who paused and honked for his fare to come out, the pedestrians that hurried down the darkened sidewalks. Anyone could look up and see what Zee was staring at.
But so far, he was the only one who noticed. He was the only one who looked as if what she was doing to him physically hurt. And maybe, with that magnificent cock of his stuffed into cold rain-soaked jeans, maybe he did hurt.
Anna lifted the first two fingers of her right hand to her mouth. Slowly, she licked them, taking her time as she slid them in and out, moving her tongue over her fingertips. Then she trailed them down her body to where they wanted to be—at her cunt. She slipped her first finger inside herself and gasped, astonished at how wet and swollen she already was. Then the other finger slowly made its way inside. Using her left hand, she touched her clit, gently at first, and then gaining speed and rhythm.
Damn. This was something she did late at night, in the dark, in her own bed. It was something she did when whatever boyfriend she was with failed to get her off, something she did so quietly that they never woke up, never knew that they’d left anything lacking.
It wasn’t something she did while standing in her picture window.
Anna’s fingers moved faster now, her eyes never leaving his. She barely blinked, although he did. The rain was sluicing down again, and it acted like a conduit between them, as if the electricity from the lightning in the skies were traveling between them. Rain rolled from his hair and he should have been shivering, but she could tell by the look on his face he was burning up just like she was.
A few more seconds, that was it, that was all it was going to take...she was so close—so close...
Slowly, deliberately, Zee shook his head.
Anna gasped. He couldn’t really make her stop, could he? Her fingers flicked her clit harder, her other hand pumping in and out of her pussy.
Once more, he shook his head.
She could ignore him. Anna knew she was only five or ten seconds away from coming. She could pretend she didn’t know what he meant and keep going, which, God, she needed to do.
Or she could prove herself to him.