Eighty Days White Read Online Free Page A

splashed some water on my face and returned to the living room.
    Pink Floyd’s
Dark Side of the Moon
was drifting through the stereo and the sound affected me so intensely it could have been playing from beneath my skin. I slumped down onto the nearest piece of furniture, a bean bag lying just outside the hall, and relaxed into the soft leather cushion as wave after wave of music washed over me. Even if I had wanted to get up again, I was going to have trouble standing.
    It took a few seconds for me to realise that the scene in front of me was real, and not a figment of my imagination come to life.
    Nick was now shirtless. His jeans sat low on his hips, exposing the long V of his loin muscles, which were like amarker pointing down to the bulge below. He was cut, though in a lean rather than bulky way, and each time he moved, his sinews rippled like water. The light smattering of hair on his chest blended uniformly into the golden-brown colour of his skin. His hands were covered by a pair of black latex gloves, just like the ones that Jonah had been wearing when he tattooed me.
    Liana was totally naked, kneeling on the floor beneath him, with her wrists tied behind her back and secured to rope that was bound around each of her thighs, framing her arse. Her head and knees were both positioned on pillows, protecting her from the hard wooden floor. Considering the way that she had been restrained, the presence of the cushions seemed almost comical, and I thought that I might burst into fits of giggles again.
    My mouth was dry and still burned from the inhalation of the smoke. I opened my mouth to speak, but could only manage a croak, which was immediately swallowed up by the music. At first, the vision of Liana tied up like that was simply puzzling, and by the time it occurred to me that Nick might have taken advantage of her, I had caught sight of her face, which clearly painted a different picture.
    Her expression was ecstatic, her lips parted and her tongue occasionally darting out to wet her mouth. She was not struggling to get away, not making any effort to resist his advances, but rather kept shuffling backwards and opening her knees apart wider, encouraging him to enter her.
    Nick seemed as hypnotised by Liana’s bound figure as I was. He stood and stared at her kneeling beneath him for an age, before finally dropping to his knees and testing her wetness with his gloved finger. His first digit slid into hereasily and he added another, and another, until only his thumb was visible, resting in the hollow of her arse.
    Liana pushed against him, thrusting furiously backward despite the obvious discomfort of the ropes that were cutting into her wrists and thighs. Her sounds of pleasure were clearly audible over the loud music and were much more guttural than a regular moan. She was keening like an animal in a combination of pain and acute arousal, each rising in accordance with the other. The harder Nick pushed his hand inside her, the harder Liana moaned. He was grunting in unison with her, as if trying to orchestrate her responses in time with his own.
    He reached his other arm forward and grabbed her long hair, pulling her head back as she screamed.
    ‘What are you?’ he cried.
    ‘I’m a slut,’ she replied.
    ‘Not quite.’
    ‘I’m your slut,’ she corrected.
    ‘That’s better. Now, come for me.’
    He released her hair and she fell back down onto the cushion as Nick raised his palm into the air and brought it down onto her buttock with a loud spank. His hand then ran down between her legs, and I could tell by the redness that rushed up her cheeks and the sudden change in tempo of her moans that he must finally be playing with her clitoris.
    The air in the room felt heavy, and was thick with the scent of sex blended with the slightly chemical smell of the latex gloves. I was intoxicated, not just by the wine, the marijuana and the ache in my still-throbbing tattoo, but also by the vision of my naked friend on