The Do It List (The Do It List #1) (23 page)

“Thanks.” After a nervous glance around the shop, I returned to a midnight-blue corset with matching panties and garter belt.
 

Our sales girl smiled. “Agent Provocateur. And I believe the ensemble is on sale. I could see if we have your size.”

Bradley was also perusing the lingerie. He pointed to a violet bra and panties with matching thigh-high stockings. “And those.”

She looked me over again. “Thirty-two C—?”

I nodded.

Bradley held up a pair of sheer silk shorts, with a beautiful, vintage floral print. “I’d love to see you in these wearing the blindfold.”

“They’re beautiful.” I checked the tag. “And my size.”

“Would you like to try them on…for him?” Danielle gathered up the lingerie and led the way. “You should be comfortable in here.” She put us in a large changing room with a three-way mirror. “Take your time. You have the run of the place. Just try to keep it quiet.”

The front door chimed, and our sales girl backed away. “If you’ll excuse me?”

While I undressed, Bradley positioned himself in the open doorway and flipped through the leather book. Occasionally, he read excerpts out loud.

 
“Every Wednesday night is ladies’ night. Couples and single females. Private and group play areas. Lockers are provided to couples.” He turned the page. “Wanna hear the rules?”

“Just the highlights.” I stripped down to bra, panties and over the knee, Alice and Olivia boots.
 

As long as I lived, I would never get used his get-ready-to fuck stare. It made me shiver.

“Love the boots, leave them on.” After a second up and down glance, he returned to his perusal of sex clubs. “Clothing optional. If you disrobe, you must do so as a couple, otherwise you remain in the lounge. Participants may be any gender or sexual orientation. Multiples are encouraged. Master/slave BDSM rooms available.”

I shot him a look. “Submissive and dominant works better for me.”

I caught a devilish grin as I turned and backed up against him. “Undo me?”

He set the book down and unhooked my bra. “I could be your sex slave, Miss Gracie.”

I snorted a laugh as I stripped down to my panties. Bradley reached around, cupping my heavy, premenstrual breasts in his hands.
 

“You’re driving me crazy.” Desire smoldered in his eyes. Surrounded by mirrors, I viewed him from three different angles, all of them hot.

“I thought you wanted a fashion show?” Wrapping the navy corset around my waist, I leaned over, filling the lacy demi cups with my breasts. Straightening, I turned sideways to get a profile look. No padding needed here.
 

“Here—let me.” He spun me around and fastened me into the corset.

My boobs were large and swollen. “I’m holding water, my body is premenstrual.”

“You look amazing.” He toyed with the deep blue garters, and after a good, long look in the mirror, he helped me remove everything.
 

“Step into these.” He held up the pretty black silk panties with the lovely vintage flower pattern. I stood there braless, in the sheer, fluttery boy shorts.

“Your body is ripe and fertile—delectable.” He ran his fingers over swollen, translucent areolae. “Nipples sore?”

I nodded, swallowing hard. I was on display and feeling vulnerable. “I feel fat.”

“Come here, Gracie.” He positioned me in front of the mirrors. “You are quite possibly the most beautiful, sensuous woman I’ve ever known. When I see you when I pleasure you—you incite such strong arousal in me.” He slipped his hands under the pretty shorts and inched them down my hips. “I’m at a loss to describe it.”
 

He lowered the panties, exposing the vertical slit between labia. “I want to slip my finger in there,” he whispered. “How badly do you want it, baby?”

My heart throbbed in my veins. I pushed against him, arching my back.
 

“I’m going to finger fuck you—watch you come for me.” He slid into moist flesh, lubricating his fingers.

With his other hand, he mercilessly teased a nipple. “I think you can take more.” He pinched the tip and I nearly dropped to my knees.
 

 
His arm tightened around my waist.
 

“Let’s get rid of these.” Bradley slipped the shorts off leaving me completely naked, except for the tall boots. His thumb circled my clit, while his fingers scissored, teasing my g-spot. “Grind that pretty ass into me.”

I reached behind and held on, pulling him close. “Oh God, yes, Bradley.”

We were in a quasi-public place, and he knew exactly what to say to send me over the edge. “Maybe I should ask Danielle to lick your pussy.”

 
My belly trembled at the thought of the pretty, dark-haired sales girl—even if it was in my imagination.

“Don’t stop,” I gasped.
 

He trailed soft kisses down my neck and rubbed his crotch against my ass. A reminder of his impressive hardness. “Come for me—quietly,” he whispered.

Slick fingers penetrated, teasing my clit and circling until I whimpered.
 

“Sh-h-h—don’t make me gag you.” His voice dominated my every thought as I shuddered into orgasm.

“Look at me, Gracie.” We locked gazes in the mirror.

“Gag me,” I whispered.

He placed his hand over my mouth, muffling a deep, guttural moan. “You’re so gorgeous when you come.” He nuzzled my cheek and held on tight, steadying wobbly legs.
 

Slowly, he withdrew his hand. A smear of blood coated the tip of his finger. “I believe it’s that time of the month, baby.”

He bought everything I tried on. With a cute shrug, he handed over his American Express card. “I can’t make up my mind.”

Two gorgeous lingerie ensembles and those pretty silk shorts. He also added fetish accessories: the exquisite lace blindfold and a black flogger made up of soft leather straps. We left the shop carrying a Clichy bag filled with fifteen hundred dollars worth of undies and kinkery.

We caught a cab on Houston. “Nineteenth and Irving Place.” Bradley slipped in beside me, placing the bag on the floor between us.
 

 
The thought of a gentle swat with the elegant cat o’nine tails got me all watery-eyed and aroused. I marveled at his ability to make me hot again, and so soon after that climax in the changing room.

I leaned forward to speak to the driver. “If you could take us up Third Avenue. There’s a drugstore on the corner of Eighteenth. I need to make a stop.”

When the cab pulled up to CVS, Bradley opened the door. “You stay here—tampons, right?

No boyfriend had ever volunteered for tampon-purchasing duty. I nodded, numbly. “Plastic glide applicator, heavy flow.”

BRADLEY WAS BACK In the cab in minutes.

 
“Are you sleeping over?” I asked.
 

He placed the drugstore sack beside the elegant black shopping bag. “Don’t expect me to lie next to you and not make love to you.”

A reference to my earlier booty call remark and I answered with a sultry lip curl as I tucked myself into his body. “You got me if you want me, Bradley.”
 

He snorted a soft laugh. “I always want you.”

The cab pulled up to my building, and he shoved a few bills at the driver. Upstairs, at the door, I handed him the keys.
 

He opened up the flat and sniffed the air.

“Cleaning service. The apartment always smells like Windex and floor wax on Tuesdays.”

“Looks like they do a good job. You’ll have to give me their number.” He removed his coat. “I’m getting serious about an apartment on Gramercy Park South.”

“Wow. Neighbors. I’ll have to think about that.” I shed my motorcycle jacket. “Lend me your hand, please?”

 
He quirked a brow, but readily complied with my request.

I took his hand in mine and rubbed my belly. “Helps my cramps if you don’t mind.”

“Aww, baby doll.” His moan of sympathy was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard. He hitched up my skirt and stroked my belly. His large hand and tapered fingers worked their magic, warming me—turning me on.
 

“Would it help to fuck?” He whispered. “It helps some women.”

I blinked at him. “I’ll need to shower—”

“Clean up after.”

He kissed the top of my head and disappeared into the bathroom. He came back with a bath sheet and stacked two pillows on the edge of the bed, covering them with the towel.

 
“Lay back, Gracie.” He pulled my panties off but left the rest of my clothes on, pushing up the flirty skirt and positioned my hips on the pillows. “Something about you and these boots.” He opened my legs wide, gynecologist style.

What he did next blew my mind.

He dipped between my legs and kissed me. His groan permeated swollen flesh as he sucked my clit rhythmically.

 
“Bradley,” I moaned in partial protest, reacting to this new form of decadent arousal.

 
He came up for air. “Relax love, I want to experience the taste and scent of your wet cunt, your saliva—your blood.” He inserted a finger and pumped gently.

Straightening, he unzipped his pants and stroked his near ready cock. “Lift that pretty pink sweater.”
 

He reached around and released my bra, pushing the rose-colored lace over aching breasts, kneading their fullness. Gently, he rolled sensitive nipples into hard points.
 

“I gotta get inside you.” He pushed until every inch of his velvet-hard cock filled me. “Your cervix is sensitive, so I won’t go deep, but if you want more let me know.”

Elevated on pillows and perfectly in line with his cock, I felt like a high priestess being prepared to receive Zeus sperm. Bradley stroked exactly the right spot as he took slow, rhythmic thrusts. The vein in his neck throbbed in sync with his hips. “Finger yourself, baby girl.”
 

I reached below and arousal surged.

He held two fingers to my lips. “Wet.”
 

I sucked both fingers as if they were his penis. “Christ, you’re such a turn-on.” He brushed my hand aside and circled my clit exactly the way he’d seen me do it.
 

Bradley loomed over me like a primitive deity, penetrating with that divine phallus, arousing his all-too-human goddess bitch.
 

His eyes glazed over. “Fuck, Gracie—”
 

He bucked and shuddered from a powerful climax which triggered my own. Pure pleasure swelled up and ripped through my body. For one or two precious, ethereal moments my connection to the world severed and I was lost to oblivion.

There are no words to describe this kind of Bradley fuckery. You just have to remind yourself to breathe. I sucked in air and focused on his gorgeous, made-for-sex mouth—lips smeared pink with the stain of my fertility.
 

He continued to pump slowly, coaxing out a bit more post-orgasmic pleasure. He’d unloosed a more primitive side of himself tonight and he wasn’t about to let the beast go.

Not quite yet.

We showered together, washing a day of big-city grime off each other’s bodies. I used plenty of soap on Bradley’s blood-crusted penis, mostly just to see his head roll back and hear him groan. Likewise, he carefully washed all my female body parts.

We toweled off and he ripped the wrapper off a heavy days applicator.

 
“Open, love.”

 
I widened my stance and he inserted the tampon. We had gone beyond the sensual tonight, into a form of physical intimacy I never thought possible.
 

“Tampon foreplay?” I teased, opening the medicine chest. I got out toothpaste and brushes, presenting one to Bradley.
 

“His and hers.” I grinned, rather proud of myself. Having never purchased a toothbrush for a man in my life, I waited for his reaction.

Bluer than blue eyes sparkled as he took the brush. “Raunchy, bloody period sex, followed by a thoughtful hygienic moment.” He applied toothpaste and winked. “We’re getting serious.”

Alarmed, I narrowed my eyes and synced my tooth-brushing with his. We had begun to coordinate well together in the bathroom, sharing the sink, working around each other quickly and efficiently.

“Did you drink all my beer?” A stark naked Bradley left for the kitchen.
 

“Would you like a robe?” I asked.

He hesitated. “No—do you want me to wear one?”

I checked him out. Gorgeous, sinewy muscle, without too much bulk. A body that Michelangelo would have loved to sculpt. I shook my head. “No.”

He grinned. “Finish your hair, curly top.”

I wasn’t used to this. A man who was so relaxed and present, so easy to be around. It also felt pretty wonderful to be cared for. He had stuck by me, even pampered me through my premenstrual moodiness.
 

Everything about this relationship was comfortable and familiar and yet slightly scary. Like there had to be a catch. And fuck if I didn’t keep looking for one.
 

Yes, he was controlling and possessive. But then, so was I—even as I pretended not to want what I so obviously wanted. A real partnership.

Happiness had always been a fleeting thing for me, especially when it came to men. But somehow, this felt different. I had never been so physically and emotionally attracted at the same time. Usually, it was one or the other, never both.
 

Like I said, scary.

Bradley sat on the edge of my bed, TV remote in hand.
 

“I’ll set the alarm for five, so you can run home and change.” I leaned over and kissed the naked Adonis searching for sports scores.
 

 
“While you were making pretty curls, I called Laurent, my mother’s chauffeur—or bodyguard. I’m not sure what he is, exactly. He’s bringing over some clothes in the morning.”
 

I pushed back the duvet and climbed into bed. A small black shopping bag with tasteful gold lettering sat on a chair seat by the nightstand.