The Surrender of Nina Fontaine by Michelle St. James

Author:Michelle St. James [James, Michelle St.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackthorn Press
Published: 2018-07-02T18:30:00+00:00

14

Nina walked through the park with her head bent against the wind. They were well into March and winter was showing no signs of loosening its grip on the city. Still, she’d found herself coming to Washington Square more and more often, although the park wasn’t at all convenient to either the gallery or Jack’s apartment.

It was nearly eight p.m., the sky still clinging to vestiges of blue in the west, but the park was empty. She came to the bench and sat at one end, glad she’d pulled on her gloves when she’d exited the subway. The gloves, along with her coat and scarf, made the cold bearable, and she sat back on the bench and looked around.

She’d given up leaving notes for her mystery photographer. It was obviously an exercise in futility, the photographer either oblivious to Nina’s outreach or against making contact. She was disappointed, but it also lent an air of additional magic to the city: somewhere out there the woman was still taking pictures, leaving them like letters from a secret admirer.

She looked around. The city seemed to exist in another dimension. There, horns blared and people shouted and pushed their way through crowds in an effort to get where they were going. They walked with headphones in or their phones lifted to their faces as they held conversations with people who weren’t present instead of the ones standing near them on the subway platform or on the curb while they waited for the light to change.

But the park was silent and alive, the trees bearing witness to the people who came and went, the sounds of the city muffled by the park’s borders. Nina settled into it, letting her thoughts turn, as they so often did, to Jack.

It was impossible to think of him without finding herself in a state of arousal, without having flashes of their lovemaking: the scarlet rope wound in increasingly complicated — and restricting — configurations around her body: Jack’s eyes, flat and cold as he gave his orders: his face, nearly expressionless as he came inside her.

He was still gentle during aftercare, still made a point to remain with her in the tub or shower, to rub salve on the red lines that crossed her body immediately after sex. But while he still talked to her, he said less and less about himself, his emotional openness shrinking in proportion to the experimental nature of their sex.

And it was experimental — for her at least. It wasn’t just the shibari, which had progressed to complex knots and loops that looked suspiciously like a harness. She never knew what Jack had in store for her.

Never knew what he would do to her.

She knew only that whatever it was, she wouldn’t use her safe word. Knew only that the further he pushed her, the more she wanted, until she began to wonder if she had any limits at all.

He withheld orgasm from her for increasingly long periods of time, bringing her to

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