Enthralled (Dark Passions) (4 page)

  
“Not a chance,” I said firmly, removing the necklace and putting it back in the
velour display case. Then, softly, so that only Bradley could hear, I added,
“There are limits to my indulgence for your need for control. You can order me
around in bed, Bradley, but I won’t be owned.”

  
His eyes twinkling with pleasure, he leaned in and kissed me softly on the
cheek, then whispered, “I don’t want to own you, or control you Melanie. I just
want you to feel it’s safe to lose control with me. That’s the turn on for me,
baby.”

  
His words sent a little thrill running up my spine. He’d just nailed it. That’s
what made his dominance such a huge turn on for me. I could give up
responsibility for myself, because I trusted him to hold me up, and to read me
well enough to figure out what I desired, and to push me past my inhibitions so
that I could live out my wildest fantasies.  

  
“Let’s go,” he said, nodding curtly at the vendor and grabbing my hand. We’d
taken a cab down to Soho, because I was deadly curious to see my neighborhood
back in the seventies, when it was buzzing with avant-garde artistic energy.
The scene was completely different. The galleries didn’t have the polished,
expensive look of their counterparts in 2012, but the art itself was raw,
magnetic, and pulsing with energy. As we passed a gallery, my vision was
arrested by a series of black-and-white photographs of a naked woman,
documenting the stages of her extreme weight loss. “Those are by Eleanor
Antin,” I said, my voice full of excitement.

  
“Quite right,” Bradley said. “And after decades of work by her and many other
artists, calling attention to how women are forced to modify their bodies to
please the world, not much has changed,” he said, squeezing my hand. “Women
still feel they have to conform to someone else’s fantasy.”

  
I felt a rush of blissful warmth pass through me at that moment, realizing that
I must be one of the luckiest girls in the world. I took both of Bradley’s
hands, pulled them around my waist, and looked up into his glorious eyes.

  
“What’s the big smile about?” he asked, eyeing me curiously.

  
“You don’t make me conform to your fantasies,” I said, reaching up to gently
brush a stray lock of hair off his forehead. “You actually see me,” I said, my
voice full of gratitude. “Even when I try to hide, you still see me.”

  
“Yes, Melanie, I do,” he said, looking at me earnestly. “And now I want you to
indulge me. I want to take you clothes shopping. For both the Bowie concert and
the party at Studio 54 afterwards.”

  
“Alright,” I said, squeezing myself against his chest. “Where to?”

  
“Fifth Avenue,” he said. “Come on. Let’s get a cab.”

***

  
When we stepped out of the cab in front of the Yves Saint Laurent clothing
boutique on Fifth Avenue, my eye caught on a turquoise antique velvet dress
with a tiny diamond-buckle belt, a tight bodice, and a short flowing skirt.
“That dress is absolutely magical,” I said excitedly, turning towards Bradley.
“My mom had a similar dress that I always loved, but by the time I was old
enough to wear it, moths had devoured it. I’ve scoured vintage shops for years
looking for one like it.” I literally started bouncing on my feet, and Bradley
smiled at me indulgently.

  
“Let’s go try it on,” he said, putting his hand on the small of my back and
nudging me forward. I turned to smile at him coquettishly over my shoulder, and
his eyes burned into me. “You walk ahead of me,” he said hoarsely. “I want to
watch you wiggle that hot ass of yours in those heavenly tight jeans.”

  
My cheeks flushed in self-consciousness, and I let out a long sigh. No matter
how many times Bradley’s eyes devoured me, I never got used to it. Every time I
felt the same giddiness, the same uneasiness. I slowly meandered in front of
him, towards the stately glass doors, swinging my hips seductively. I felt his
eyes rake my body, and heard him groan. When I got to the doors, I threw him a
sultry, come-hither look over my shoulder. I watched his jaw tense and his eyes
brim over with a hot, masculine sensuality.

  
“Just wait until I get my hands on you,” he said, and charged towards me, then
grabbed me by the waist.

  
“Hands off!” I said, swatting him playfully. “We’re in a public place. If we
keep this up, they won’t even let us in.”

  
Bradley’s expression became seductive as he brought his face inches from mine.
“A public place,” he mused, and looked like he was mulling something over. “We
haven’t tried that yet.” Then he grinned at me wickedly and added, “And you’ve
proven what an exhibitionist you are.”

  
I felt my cheeks flush again as I remembered this morning’s film shoot. “That’s
different,” I said. “That was for the camera.”

  
“It’ll be fun,” Brad said, stroking my hips. “No one will know. I’ll cover your
mouth when you come.”

  
“Bradley!” I yelled, and swatted him arm. “I can’t. I’d be mortified if we got
caught.”

  
He smiled at me, and stroked my lower lip. “We won’t get caught,” he said,
lightly brushing his lips with mine. I shot him a stern look, and pulled open
the glass door to the store. He gave my butt a quick squeeze as I passed
through and whispered “Think about it.”

  
When I stepped inside the store, a tall, thin woman approached us. Her blond
hair was tied in an elegant, tight knot on her head, and she was wearing a
Mondrain shift dress, which I immediately recognized as a classic from Yves
Saint Laurent’s Pop Art collection. “Good afternoon,” she said, her voice
stiff. She smiled tightly at us, but her blue eyes remained icy.

  
“Hello,” Bradley said, his tone warm but formal. I watched the blond appraise
him with her eyes, and then give him a look of approval.

  
“How can I be of assistance today?” she asked, now beaming at Bradley and
totally ignoring me.

  
“The antique velvet dress in the store window,” he said, pointing. “My
girlfriend would like to try it on.”

  
The store clerk looked me up and down, a slightly disdainful look on her face.
“Well, she’s rather…
curvy
. I’m not sure we’ll have her size.”

  
Bradley’s face clouded over. “Why don’t you go check,” he said, the suppressed
anger evident in his voice. “Do your job and keep your envy and your snotty
opinions to yourself.” The willowy blonde’s face became stricken, and her body
tensed.

  
“Very well,” she said, her voice trembling as she tried to maintain her
composure.

  
As she turned away, I muttered “bitch” under my breath, and took Bradley by the
hand. “Come on,” I said, dragging him over to a clothes rack, “let’s go look at
that suit!”

  
The suit was metallic blue, three-piece, with ridiculously wide lapels. “This
is so outrageously vintage seventies,” I said, stroking the shiny material.
“It’ll look stunning on you,” I added, looking up at him. “It’ll really bring
out your eyes.”

  
Bradley gave me an amused look. “But my eyes are green,” he said, “or haven’t
you noticed?”

  
“Of course I’ve noticed. Those eyes made my heart jump into my throat the first
time I saw them.”

  
Bradley looked pleased, and stroked my cheek. “Anyway,” I said, “blue and green
are close enough. The suit will still bring out your eyes.”

  
We wandered around the store for a bit, eventually finding a white, fitted
linen shirt and a broad, colorful tie to go with the suit. The tie was really
something else: metallic red, blue, and grey, and almost as wide as a guitar.
The store clerk finally came over to us with the antique velvet dress in what
looked like my size. She gave me a stiff smile, keeping her eyes averted from
Bradley’s. “Follow me,” she said. “I’ll show you to your stalls.”

  
The dress was perfect. The scoop neck showed off a touch of cleavage, and the
thin diamond-buckle belt really cinched my small waist and brought attention to
my voluptuous hips. Now I just needed a pair of ankle-strap heels and glittery
makeup to complete the look. “Knock knock,” I heard Bradley say. I opened the
door, flashed him a huge smile, and took him in. The suit looked amazing on
him. The metallic blue material gleamed on his powerful and masculine frame,
and the cut emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow, muscular waist. “Well
don’t you look sexy,” I said. “And playfully flamboyant. Which is fitting for a
Bowie concert.”

  
Bradley eyed me hungrily, taking in every inch of me. After a long moment, he
nudged me back inside the stall and gruffly said, “I’m coming in.” Before I
could protest, he had locked the door behind us and grabbed me by the waist. He
pressed me to the wall, his hands on my buttocks, pinning my hips to his.  

  
I felt his hot heavy breath against my face, and his cock going hard against my
sex. At the feel of his hardness against me, I felt a vague, pleasurable ache
stir inside me. Bradley gave me a breathtakingly savage look, and lunged for my
throat. His kisses along my neck were soft but possessive. He lingered, brushing
his lips over my vulnerable, exposed flesh, and I could feel my pulse throbbing
beneath the pressure of his mouth. When his sensuous lips pressed down on mine,
he moaned from deep in his throat, and it reverberated in my mouth. I ran my
fingers into his hair, and urgently pulled him closer. Our kiss deepened, and
our hands were all over each other, stroking, grabbing, tracing each other’s
bodies. Bradley seized one of my breasts and pulled it over the scoop neck of
my dress. He blew gently on my nipple, instantly tightening it and heightening
my arousal to a fever pitch. As he took my hardened nipple in his mouth,
stroking and teasing it with his tongue, I felt my insides swell with delicious
heat and I let out a loud gasp. Bradley instantly reached up and covered my
mouth, muffling my cry. “Shh,” he said. “We have to be quiet.” He stood up to
his full height and looked at me with his eyes full of lust, full of need. “I’m
taking you right here, right now,” he said.

  
“I can’t,” I said, feeling myself flush. “We’re in public. And that uptight
bitch will call the cops if she hears us.”

  
Bradley smiled wickedly at me and said, “She won’t hear us. I’ll make sure of
that.” Then he reached under my dress and roughly pulled down my panties.

  
“You’re gonna have to stop doing that,” I said, smiling slyly at him. “Or I’m
going to be walking around bare assed in public.” He slid his finger up my
thigh and then gently started rubbing my clit. Before I could let out another
moan, he’d covered my mouth with his other hand.

  
“You’re so wet, Mel,” he said. “And so ready for me.” As he stroked up and down
my clit with his finger, my whole body started to quiver, and I closed my eyes
and threw back my head. “I love looking at you like this,” he said. “So lost in
your own pleasure.” As a delicious thrill rippled through my body, Bradley
lifted me up and turned me so that my back was to him and we were both facing
the mirror. “I’m going to take you from behind,” he said, lifting my dress and
stroking the curves of my ass. “Put your hands up against the mirror,” he said.
“And spread your legs. Now.”

  
I arched an eyebrow at him in the mirror, and he kneaded one of my butt cheeks,
then gave it a sharp slap. “I said now.” His demand sent a jolt of arousal
through me, and I instantly spread my legs. I watched in the mirror as he
stepped out of his suit pants and boxers, leaving him standing behind me with
an enormous hard on. Without breaking our gaze, he stepped forward and gently
rubbed his cock along my folds. I let out a little grunt of impatience. “What’s
wrong, Mel?” he asked. “Is there something you want?” he added, with a teasing
glimmer in his eye. “Look at yourself,” he said, his voice full of desire. I
broke our gaze for a moment and caught sight of my reflection. My lips were
parted, my cheeks were flushed, and I was panting. But it was my eyes that
startled me. They were full of an unbearable, shameless need. The fact that I
wanted this, right here, right now, and so badly that it hurt was etched
clearly, unmistakably on my face. I startled, and looked away. “
Look
at
yourself,” he demanded. “Look at how alive your face is. The flare of desire in
your eyes. You’re beyond beautiful when you’re like this,” he said, still
rubbing his cock along my entrance, “so utterly, deliciously needy of my cock.
Your face captivatingly unguarded.” I looked at myself. He was right. Even when
I privately looked in the mirror, I always put on the most composed, defended
look I could muster. Like I was protecting myself from seeing myself in a way
that would unsettle me. And here I was, completely unsettled. Unravelling right
before my own eyes. And I didn’t care. I felt utterly free, utterly alive, and
I didn’t care about anything except the sweet anticipation of Bradley’s cock inside
of me.