Puppet Read online

  Puppet

  Hamilton Swift

  A man with vivid fantasies…a woman with blind devotion…consequences neither could envision.

  When shy schoolteacher Carin falls hopelessly in love with millionaire playboy Justin, she realizes a sexual ease she’s never experienced and a willingness to be taught. With Justin’s guidance, she emerges from a lifelong cocoon to learn about desire—hers as well as her lover’s.

  Commitment-phobic Justin falls just as hard for Carin, but he protects his once-broken heart by focusing on their physical connection rather than their emotional bond, coaxing Carin into situations that threaten their love. He entices her with many of his taboo fantasies, and the brightness of her love leads them to ever-darker realities.

  With Justin, Carin travels a road of carnal discovery beyond her wildest imagination, but for their love to survive, Justin must love her for who she is and let her love for him mend his broken heart.

  Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and scenes—no closed bedroom doors (or other rooms) here!

  A Romantica® contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

  Puppet

  Hamilton Swift

  “Roll over onto your tummy, honey.”

  “Okay, baby.”

  “Now, rise up on your and hands and knees a little.”

  “All right.”

  “Can you put your head down on the mattress for me?”

  “Sure.”

  “And arch your back a bit?”

  “Like this?”

  “No, baby. Swayback.”

  “This way?”

  “Yes, Puppet. Just like that.”

  Prologue

  From behind the master bedroom’s wall-to-wall front windows, Carin could make out segments of the cobblestone driveway winding into the property through the trees. When she lifted her gaze beyond the farthest visible crescent of cobblestones and last half acre of woods separating the house from the town line, she could see spits of the country road running parallel, but only when scanning far left or high to the right. The best road views came when looking to her extreme left while pressing her right cheek against the cool morning glass, but doing so for long periods proved uncomfortable. Occasionally, she glimpsed cars and trucks on the road—soccer moms’ SUVs, tradesmen’s pickups and one time, the bright-red blur of a sports car flashing behind the dark hemlocks—but in all the time she stood by the windows, whether close up or a few steps back, looking low or high, left or right, she never saw the vehicle she prayed to see.

  Hoping a different vantage point would bring luck, Carin pulled her short robe over her nightie and made her way downstairs, stopping first in the kitchen to make her coffee. As the coffee brewed, she roamed the empty beach house, bypassing the back windows’ panoramic water views in favor of glimpses of driveway; and with a first warm cup in her hand she established a new lookout in Justin’s office off the front foyer, where driveway views were best.

  Justin often spent time in his home office, catching up on business or just gazing out at the kinetic sculpture he’d recently had installed on the island of manicured lawn outside the front door. Carin’s focus, however, was on the last stretch of cobblestones coming in from the road and circling the swaying art, more than on the art itself.

  For a long while, she sat half-swiveling in Justin’s big leather desk chair, nibbling her nails, sipping her coffee and glancing from the grandfather clock in the corner of the room to the vacant driveway. Slowly she realized her luck hadn’t changed.

  Abandoning the study, she walked through the open foyer, climbed the curving, teakwood staircase, breezed past the mélange of oils and watercolors checkerboarding the walls leading back to the master bedroom, and again found herself at her original spot behind the room’s front windows. She scanned the road left and right several more times before pulling herself away and inching toward the bathroom suite.

  Over the months, luxuriating in Justin’s spacious, marble shower stall had become one of Carin’s favorite pastimes, especially after long days spent with her students. After those exhausting days, she would retreat to Justin’s house and revitalize under the shower’s multiple spigots while preparing for his return from the city. But this morning, with her package due any moment, she was hesitant to leave the windows, much less linger in the shower. Having checked “Signature Not Required” on the website’s order form provided little peace of mind.

  After a hasty rinse, Carin dried herself with one of Justin’s monogrammed bath towels, wrapped her body in another and coiled a third atop her head. She moved from the shower room to the adjacent dressing room and, relying on faith her package would soon arrive, continued with the dress rehearsal she’d planned for that morning. She lined her eyes with great care and combed mascara through her lashes. She dusted rouge into her cheeks and rolled a taste of pink onto her lips. She braided her hair into two girlish pigtails, unwound them and reweaved them again, tighter this time. She heard no knock at the front door as she primped, but on her way downstairs for a second cup of coffee she had a premonition and opened the door anyway. Sure enough, the FedEx box was there on the step.

  A half hour later, the box lay open at the foot of Justin’s bed as Carin modeled her new outfit in front of the dressing room’s full-length mirror. She’d been concerned the costume might look cheap or the skirt would be too big around her waist but was now pleasantly surprised. The red plaid mini was of lightweight cotton as advertised, not stiff polyester, as she had feared, and the pull cord hidden in its waistband worked well when cinching the garment around her petite frame. On top, the costume’s crisp, white halter fit snugly against her breasts but she deemed it more cute and tarty than trampy. Best of all, when she turned from the mirror and bent forward and grazed her fingertips along the warm, climate-controlled tile floor, she looked back over her shoulder to see the skirt crawl up her stalky legs and expose her new underwear, a private view she knew Justin would appreciate.

  Before Justin had left for his business trip, Carin hinted about the schoolgirl costume, hoping images of her awaiting his return prettily gift-wrapped—complete with satin bows of over-the-knee stockings peeking below her mini, the halter’s knot tied loosely between her big boobs, and pink ribbons adorning the tips of her tight pigtails—would keep him longing for her while away. And when he returned home and unwrapped his present, she knew he’d appreciate that view too, as the matching demi-cup bra and thong she’d bought for underneath added sexiness to her otherwise “innocent” costume.

  Innocent yet sexy, Carin thought to herself, standing straight and turning to face the mirror. After an approving nod, she squeezed her thighs together and tugged on her braids, as much in anticipation of Justin’s return as to squelch the ache of lonely lust that left her feeling empty whenever he was away.

  Opening a cabinet door by the mirror, she reached for her favorite scent and dabbed a moistened finger behind each ear and deep into her cleavage. Justin wouldn’t be home for another day, but Carin frequently put on perfume for him when he was traveling, or shaved herself smooth, or had her nails painted in the pale-pink shade he favored, all as ways to feel closer to him. As hints of jasmine tickled her nostrils, visions of their reunion flooded her mind, but the sumptuous aroma did little to fill the void she felt.

  Still, she was relieved by her outfit’s arrival and buoyed by the success of her dress rehearsal. Loosening the halter’s knot, she let the ties hang while shimmying out of the skirt. She removed the ribbons from her hair and peeled the top from her shoulders. Strutting into the bedroom in her frilly new underwear and thigh highs, she felt far more sexy than innocent, and worlds beyond the naive woman she’d been before meeting Justin. As she crossed to a bureau he’d recently purchased for her,
she combed her fingers through the loosening braids, as if trying to tease from her mind some of the salacious thoughts he was forever putting into it. At this particular moment, it was a silly fantasy he’d whispered in bed a week earlier, which began with him instructing her to undress in front of his bedroom windows as a hunky gardener looks up from the hedges by the cobblestone drive.

  By the time Carin reached the bureau, the fantasy had dissipated and she again thought only of Justin. Though they had dated less than a year, she had officially moved in a week earlier and it wasn’t a moment too soon. She loved the feeling of belonging in this magnificent beach house, of belonging in this room with Justin, the only man who’d ever tapped in to desires she hardly knew she had. She opened the top drawer and put in the outfit, and closed the drawer with a dreamy sigh.

  Turning from the bureau, she spied the answering machine’s message button glowing red from across the room and felt it pulling her toward it as if it were a beacon. Arriving by the bedside table, she sat on the edge of the mattress, thankful she hadn’t erased the message after first hearing it. After pressing the button, she folded her hands in her lap and waited patiently, as if sitting straight-backed in her church pew on any given Sunday before services begin. When she heard the first low rumblings of Justin’s voice, she squeezed her thighs together again.

  “Hi, my love. I know you’ve left for work but I wanted a message waiting when you got back. I’m still in bed and thinking of you. I’m picturing being on top of you…cradling your head in my hands…my lips on your forehead…my chest against yours…so we feel each other’s heartbeat. I’d stay like that a long time, sugar…not even moving…just tight and intimate…all the way inside…so you feel filled up by me.

  “Can you tell I’m missing you? I can’t wait to hold you in my arms instead of just my mind. I have a breakfast meeting in an hour so I better hang up. Just enough time for a hot shower and a fistful of steamy thoughts of you in your new outfit. It’s crazy how you make me feel, Puppet. When I get home, I’ll be ready for the real thing. Bye bye for now.”

  Carin turned lengthwise on the mattress and gave the empty FedEx box an impatient flick with her foot, sending it to the floor as she reclined. She didn’t like the thought of Justin having to take care of himself without her. She wanted to be there for him always. As her head settled into a goose down pillow, more visions sank into her mind. She pictured being with Justin in his hotel shower, his wavy hair clinging in thick, wet strings to his powerful neck as she lathered his sculpted shoulders and chest. This type of vision was easy to conjure and ever-present in her mind; she could almost feel the warm spray from the showerhead drum up her back as she lowered to her knees and parted her lips. Looking up to her lover longingly, she would be as eager for him to fill their void then as she was now.

  Carin raised a hand to the bedside table and fumbled for the answering machine. After finding the message button, she lowered her hand to her abdomen. But it rested there only a moment before trickling into her thong. As she listened to Justin’s words, she wasn’t surprised to feel how wet she was. She was always wet these days.

  Closing her eyes, she transported herself back to Justin’s hotel shower. She was before him, kneeling on the warm tiles, using her hands and mouth to work him up slowly as he had taught her. She could smell the soapy scent of his skin and feel the closed-in sensation as the glass shower walls clouded with steam. When his fingers entwined in her hair, she’d know he was ready for release.

  Carin pulled back on her daydream and stopped touching herself in time to make her excitement subside. When it was safe to continue, she again slid her hand between her legs and the scene abruptly changed. As easily as turning channels on a television set, she now saw herself standing in her underwear in front of Justin’s bedroom windows, just as he had described a week earlier. The gardener was cutting hedge by the driveway, the clipper’s blades glimmering in the sun as they snapped along the bush tops. The gardener was shirtless, his abdominal muscles glistening and popping with his movements. Carin would do her best not to catch his eye but it would be hard to look away.

  From a chair in the corner of the room, Justin would whisper compliments and commands. At his request, she would shyly unhook her bra. She’d hold the lacy garment against her chest and turn back to Justin for reassurance. Upon his nod, she’d pull the cups away and drop the bra from her shaky hand to the floor. Justin would offer a torrent of words of praise and she’d tingle with pride and anticipation. When asked to do so, she’d swallow hard and peel down her thong. She’d be nervous, on display before both men, but Justin’s words of approval would calm her. Seeing lust in his eyes would fuel her desires.

  Unable to contain her curiosity, she’d again side-glance down to the driveway but the gardener would no longer be there. Alarmed, she’d look back to Justin and meet his pensive stare. They both would hear the front door creak open and click closed, followed by footfalls on the stairs.

  Carin would remain very still and quiet by the windows, swallowing dryly, nibbling her bottom lip. Seeing Justin’s tight smile, she’d know what would soon be expected from her. She’d turn in time to see a shadow approach from the hall. And for the next hour, she’d do all she could to earn more praise from the corner of the room.

  Carin lay still and panting on Justin’s double-king mattress. Her hand was back on her abdomen, her eyes wide and staring at the ceiling. Perspiration had formed at the small of her back, leaving the sheet damp beneath her. As the sheet cooled, a not unpleasant shiver ran up her spine. When her breathing evened out, she rolled off the mattress and moved into the dressing room, her stockinged feet warming as they padded across the floor tiles. Stopping in front of the mirror, she giggled upon seeing how flushed Justin’s silly fantasy had left her. She wasn’t sure how he got her thinking such outlandish thoughts, other than knowing he liked her playing along.

  For a long while, she did little but toss her woozy head from side to side, pucker her lips in the glass and finger-comb her bangs. When done fidgeting, she placed her hands on her hips and scrutinized her body. She had always been pleased with her figure but in years past had been discomfited by it too, as skinny girls with big boobs and innocent faces arouse attention from boys whether the girls want it or not.

  Nowadays, she was proud of her body and comfortable with what it could do. She was happy that her long, tapered legs were so easy to wrap around Justin’s back when he was on top of her. She was pleased to have him use her pointy hipbones as handles when he took her from behind. She was thrilled that her flat tummy and ample chest had become favorite targets for his warm explosions. As she stared at her reflection, she understood more fully one of Justin’s most oft-uttered compliments: her body was designed to give pleasure.

  Bending at the waist, Carin fanned the fingers of both hands around an ankle and ran them up her over-the-knee stocking, smoothing ripples to the satin bow. After repeating the process on the other leg, she stood straight in front of the mirror and gnawed her bottom lip. She tilted her head while pulling the side strings of her thong higher on her hips. She tugged at the scalloped top of a stocking and snapped the rubbery band of material against her lower thigh. She slipped her left hand inside the bra’s right demi-cup and lifted her heavy breast higher into place. After repeating the adjustment on the other side, she placed her hands back on her hips.

  Carin liked what she saw, but even after all these months with Justin, she hardly recognized the lustful woman staring back at her. The frustrated boys from her past wouldn’t recognize her either. Not the many she had timidly rebuffed over the years and not the one who had eventually become her husband. She squeezed her thighs together one last time but it did little to stop the flood of desire already renewing for Justin. She could hardly wait for his return, to greet him in her schoolgirl costume at the beach house they shared and let him lead her in any direction he pleased.

  All her life, she had been shy Carin London. Now she was Puppet. />
  Part One

  Chapter One

  From the moment Justin set eyes on her, he knew she was different. Throughout the club were sexily clad girls, wanting to be noticed, but she was dressed inconspicuously in a loose-fitting white blouse and navy-blue skirt cut just above the knee. She sat at an out-of-the-way corner table on the club’s first floor, chatting with another woman. While her companion’s gaze darted about the room from man to man, the unassuming one remained focused on her friend. She seemed the only girl in the place more interested in conversation than who might be eyeing her.

  Of all the suburban clubs, he liked this one best. It was new and lively and always packed with beautiful girls, like the better bars in the city. The downstairs room was designed, ironically, like a seventies bachelor pad, with black-and-white leather chairs and couches, chrome end tables, recessed lighting and wall-to-wall, burgundy-colored shag carpeting. The second floor was styled like a disco of the same era, with a DJ’s stage positioned in the middle of a cavernous dance floor and dozens of mirror balls shimmering overhead.

  He rarely went upstairs, as there were always girls to choose from downstairs, either in the room in which the conversationalist sat, or at the long, mahogany bar from where he now viewed her.

  He’d been thinking of a deal he’d make in the morning, selling short on fifty tons of potash and picking up as much ammonia as he could find. But the din from upstairs made concentrating difficult, and after spotting her thoughts of business proved impossible. With a hip-hop bass line thumping in his head, he provided himself relief by looking her way with every tip of his martini glass.

  She was girl-next-door adorable, with a face so fresh it looked out of place in a bar like this. Even from across the crowded room, her eyes beamed innocently. He couldn’t read her body well from his stool but occasionally glimpsed her spindly legs under her table, clamped together, bent at the knee, moving to create ever-changing angles. Her hands flittered nervously too, pulling at her skirt hem or brushing wispy bangs from her eyes. Of the dozens of good-looking women in the room, she alone gave an impression of genuine vulnerability.