Gemma felt a pang of sympathy for Maria. A Jason interrogation with him a bad mood wouldn’t be an endearing experience.
As Gemma headed down the staircase, she felt increasingly angry. At Maria for leaving the lock off the door. At John and Andrea for blatantly going where they had been asked not to go—up to their private deck without permission. Enrique’s absence when he should have been monitoring the deck. Where had the man gone? By the time she reached the bottom step, she had convinced herself she should feel no shame or apologise for what her brother had witnessed.
“Gemma....” Her face stopped John dead. Lips set tight and her hands folded across her chest.
“You bloody idiots. How dare you intrude, spy on us like a pair of peeping toms. I thought you understood the nature of my relationship with Jason, the sex we engage in, and the privacy we demand due to it. How could you, John!”
Andrea, red-faced, stared at her wriggling toes.
John stood up and approached his sister with a face that seemed to Gemma as if it was going to explode in an apoplectic fit. “You’re not staying here, Gemma, with that man!”
“Don’t be bloody ridiculous, John. Have you heard nothing of what I’ve been saying?” Gemma snapped back.
“That man—”
“Is my husband. The man I love and trust with my life!”
Gemma reached out and grabbed her brother’s flailing arms by the wrists. A strong man, but her touch halted his aggressive posturing.
“John, please listen to me. Open your mind and listen.” Gemma was used to pleading. An expert at begging and supplication. The imploring eyes and the beseeching tone, she practised with Jason came in useful with her brother.
John closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, almost a snort. “All right. Explain to me. Explain what the hell you two were doing up there. Because all I saw was a woman tied up, gagged, in pain, and being fucked like a piece of meat. At this precise moment, all I want to do is punch his lights out and take you back home. So this better be convincing.” He stepped back, arms folded tightly across his chest, legs astride.
Andrea had melted into the background, leaving Gemma in a standoff with her brother.
She stood with hands on hips. “What do you want to know? Jason and I fuck. Big deal. Anal sex, too. When I have my period, he fucks my bum, and do you know what? I love it. He is bloody good at it. I was trained to take a good fuck up the arse, and we both know what we’re doing. It doesn’t hurt, and you only think it’s painful because that is your and Andrea’s experience. Take my word for it. It can be fantastic when done properly.”
Adrenaline coursed through her bloodstream. An unusually cathartic rant on her part. Talking about her sex life with friends usually required her to remain quiet or keep her comments as subtle nuances. Spilling out her opinion to John, the image of her erotic pursuits, changed from a sepia, underdeveloped photograph into a colourful, vibrant picture representing everything that made sex a wondrous part of life.
Her brother shuffled about listening to her talk unequivocally about sex. “Okay, what about the blindfold and gag?”
“Christ, John. We’re outside. Sound carries. I don’t want the crew to hear me scream. My screams of sheer delight. It saves me embarrassment. Jason has the willpower to stay silent. I’m useless. Hence, the gag. If I have to communicate, we use gestures. I’ve told you this before, last year. Remember? The blindfold means I’m not distracted and I’m focused. On him.”
“You looked in pain. Don’t lie to me. I know you too well. Don’t tell me what he was doing didn’t hurt you.”
Gemma took stock of his words. The explanation wouldn’t be straightforward. He was nailing the target of his ire. Her legs wobbled as the adrenaline began to decline in her system. She walked past him and took a seat in a chair. Normally, she wouldn’t be having an intense conversation with someone after sex. At least, anyone but Jason. She missed his calming tone and gentle caresses.
“Bondage. I don’t see the fuss.” She added with a vicious tone, “And I think it’s rich coming from you, John. You tied Andrea up with bloody garden twine. Your little attempt at bedroom kink. Remember?”
Andrea came across from her side stage position and took John’s hand as he digested the barbed remark.
Gemma continued. “That isn’t the point. He wasn’t hurting me. I leant back and pulled on the rope, giving myself pain. Sometimes, the longer the wait, the better the climax.” She bit her lip, waiting for John to assimilate the explanation of what he had seen.
But he shook his head. “I don’t understand all this control business. Doesn’t he want you to have a good time?”
The question caused a rush of butterflies in her belly, not from excitement but dread. She hated the implication. “Yes, of course he does,” she said. “When he wishes, when it pleases him. I can’t explain any more than I have. You have to trust me when I say we love each other, and what you witnessed was moderate play by our standards. We do make love, too, you know. Romantic-type vanilla sex.”
John laced his fingers together. They had ceased to tremble.
“You like pain, Gemma? You’ve told me this before, I know, but John....” Andrea hesitated. “You need to make him understand. He doesn’t get it.”
Gemma had to bite the bullet. She felt backed into a corner, and the anger she had arrived with had been replaced with a need to confess, to have it out in the open once and for all.
“I use a certain kind of pain to make me feel pleasure—intense erotic pleasure. I don’t expect you to understand. I consent to everything. Consensual acts. Controlled by safe-words. Jason knows my limits. Please don’t be repulsed. It’s what I am, and I’m not changing or leaving him because you can’t handle the thought of your little sister being her husband’s sex slave. That’s what I am. His sex slave. My purpose as his submissive is to please him, nothing else, and doing so gives me great satisfaction. There, I’ve said it.”
She buried her head in her hands. There was nowhere to hide. What was said couldn’t be taken back. A collective silence descended. John returned to his chair and slumped back with a sigh.
“Where do we go from here?” John asked the air, fingers running through his sweaty hair.