by Kait Jagger
She came to stand in front of him, back to the fireplace. There was not a sound in the room, save for the occasional hiss and crackle of the fire.
The robe he had chosen skimmed and clung to Luna’s breasts and thighs like it was made for her, falling to a puddle on the floor. Blood red. It wasn’t a colour she’d have picked for herself and now she wondered why, why it had taken him to see how perfectly it would contrast with her alabaster skin, pale eyes and dark hair.
Was he pleased with her? She couldn’t judge from his expression, serious yet observant. And expectant.
In answer to his unspoken command, Luna raised her hand to the sash at her waist and loosened it, then gripped the front of the gown and allowed it to fall down her shoulders… revealing the rope tied around her neck not once, but twice, culminating in a slipknot at the base of her throat. She lowered the robe further, exposing the taut line between her breasts down to her waist. Another knot there, a rather ornate figure of eight holding in place the belt of rope cinching her waist. Unseen, there was another knot against her spine, which dropped into a final loop of rope around her hips.
Luna allowed the robe to fall to the floor, stepped out of it, then turned slightly to reveal the two tassels trailing down her back. He had created it all using one long piece of thick, combed cotton rope – rope she recognised, being an ex-Catholic girl. A cincture, she thought it was called, though she doubted any devout Franciscan monk would approve of the uses to which Stefan had put it.
His expression hadn’t changed, but his eyes… his pupils were so dilated they looked black and the hair on his arm was standing on end, glistening in the firelight. Yes. He was pleased with her.
Taking a step closer to him, Luna reached up and removed the clip from her hair, allowing it to fall in a coil down her back.
‘Min herre… min härskare,’ she said, lowering her head, skin glowing in the firelight.
Stefan closed his eyes, exhaled, and shuddered. Then he sat up and reached for her, placing his hands on the bit of rope between her breasts, tugging slightly at the figure of eight knot at her waist.
‘Not too tight?’ he enquired huskily.
Luna shook her head. In truth, it had taken her some time to figure out how to put it on, despite the fact that he’d laid it out carefully in the sandalwood box. But once she had slipped it over her head and waist, and tightened the bits that needed tightening, drawing the slack into the final knot at the back of her neck, it had felt… dangerously good.
Satisfied with his craftsmanship, Stefan sat back on the sofa again and said, ‘I have been thinking about the other night and have realised that I was remiss.’
For one awful moment, Luna thought he was going to apologise for what had happened. And where would that leave her, who was standing there wanting more of the same? But he continued, ‘I was so busy taking my fill of you that I neglected your needs. I’d like to make that up to you.’
A log shifted on the fire, prompting a brief explosion of sparks.
‘Shall we try a little exercise, Luna?’
The effect of these words on her was immediate; she swore she experienced a moment of light-headedness at the rush of blood from her head to her erogenous zones. She nodded, mouth dry.
Then, rather to her bemusement, he patted the seat next to him. Luna raised her eyebrows at him and Stefan smiled, crooking his index finger and patting the seat again. So she sat beside him, only for him to place both hands on her shoulders and pull her down till she was lying with her head on his lap. He assessed her position for a moment, then lifted her head up and popped a pillow under it.
Looking down at her, his darkened pupils reflecting the firelight, Stefan buried his fingers in her hair. ‘Close your eyes,’ he said. Luna did as she was told, and for some time after that he simply massaged her scalp and stroked her hair, wrapping his hands in it and pulling it gently by the roots.
Eventually his hands slid away from her head down her neck, gliding along the cords there, grazing the sides of her breasts, covering and pressing down on them whilst at the same time capturing her nipples between middle and forefingers. It was intoxicating, the sensation of being compressed combined with that of her nipples being tugged upward between his fingers.
So absorbed was she with the feeling of it, she almost jumped when he whispered against her brow, ‘Open your legs, Luna.’ She complied and, at the sight of her laid bare before him, bound in his ropes, Stefan’s mood darkened. Clamping one hand on her forehead, he pressed the other onto her mons. Luna wriggled slightly and his hands bore down harder, pinning her in place.
‘Here is what I want from you,’ he said. ‘I am going to pleasure you, so…’ He inserted two fingers into her, then trailed them slickly up to her clitoris. ‘And so…’ He stroked her up and down, making her writhe in anticipation. ‘And when I bring you to the point of coming, you are going to tell me to stop. Do you understand?’
Luna opened her eyes and looked up at him questioningly. In response, he plunged his fingers back into her, holding her down again with his palm. Tightening his hand against her forehead, he repeated firmly, ‘Do you understand.’ Not a question. Luna closed and opened her eyes, silently assenting. He released her forehead, withdrew his fingers from inside her, and began to stroke her again. ‘Then close your eyes and do what I’ve told you.’
It didn’t take long, as well as he knew her body, as intuitively as his fingers navigated her clitoris, for the sweetness to begin to rise within her. She enjoyed it for as long as she could before saying, ‘Stop.’ At this, Stefan immediately removed his hand from her, leaving her hanging just long enough that Luna began to fear that this was one of those exercises she wasn’t going to enjoy. But soon enough his fingers came to rest on her again. ‘Remember what I’ve asked you to do,’ he said, and recommenced caressing her.
It took longer this time, Stefan taking it gradually, as if he was feeling her out, looking for her boundaries. But the feeling was greater, more intense, when she was finally forced to repeat, ‘Stop.’ After that, he seemed to have the measure of her; she found that he could often sense when she quickened, that his hand would still of its own accord, sometimes for just a few seconds, sometimes for longer. Time and place receded, evening passing into night as she relinquished herself to the ownership of his hand, bringing her to the point of orgasm so many times she lost count. Until finally, with his fingers hovering at the edge of her vulva, awaiting their opportunity to continue, Luna whispered, ‘I can’t—’
‘You can,’ he assured her, and to make his point entirely clear he began to stroke her again. He went on in this way until it became a constant game of stop and start, the area around her clitoris becoming so sensitive that at times Luna was forced to moan, ‘Stop,’ after one movement of his fingers, her pelvis lifting upward, her body begging him.
In the end, it was just his forefinger against her, barely moving. Tiny infinitesimal strokes. Soon even they were too much.
‘Stop,’ Luna sobbed, teeth clenched, thighs straining.
Only for him to clamp his palm against her forehead and whisper in return, ‘Not this time,’ his finger continuing to move as the infinitesimal strokes became… unbearable… too sweet, too sweet…
She came in shattering silence, arching up off the sofa, then collapsing back down, then ascending again, striving against his hand on her forehead and the rope around her waist and hips. As the initial, unbearable ecstasy ebbed, Stefan returned all his fingers to her vulva, gently strumming her, drawing her out. The feeling of it went on for longer than she thought possible, her body quivering as he played her to the end. When it was finished, Luna tilted her head toward him, pressing her face into his chest, and his hands came back to where they started, stroking her hair.
He carried her up to bed, in the end. She must have been much more tired than she realised, because she only woke as he was climbing the stairs, holding her in his arms. He looked down at her briefly and she slid her hands up and ar
ound his neck, pressing her lips into his shoulder. Carrying her into her room, the smell of roses all around them, he placed her on the bed and loosened the rope from around her neck, lifting the entire thing off of her.
Much later she woke, lying on her side, to find him standing next to the window, looking down at the loch below.
‘Stefan,’ she said, reaching her hand out to him. He turned and came to her, sitting on the edge of the bed. She couldn’t make out his expression in the darkness, but his body felt… tense. Poised. All it took was a gesture from her, a parting of her lips, her knee shifting into his leg, and suddenly he was upon her, hands pressing her down onto the bed, pushing back the coverlet, exposing her to the chilly night air. And then covering her with his own warm body, entering and filling her.
‘How are you always so…’ he breathed, angling his cock within her, drawing its head along the plump, engorged lining of her interior. She reached her legs up around him and he thrust himself into her, hard. And again. And again.
‘Tell me,’ he commanded her, driving his hips against hers. ‘Tell me what I am to you.’
‘Min härskare,’ she replied. ‘Du är min härskare,’ she reiterated, lifting her chin, slowly closing her eyes and arching her back. ‘Jag är din tjänare.’
Stefan emitted a strangled noise, an edge that sounded almost like pain to his voice. Then lowered his head to her neck, driving into her. Taking what was his.
Chapter Sixteen
She woke in the morning to find herself alone in her bed, a tray with fruit, croissants and coffee beside her. How had he managed to set it there without waking her? Really, she was beginning to be embarrassed by her capacity for sleep.
There was a brief note from him on the tray.
Gone out with Gus and forestry manager. Back by lunch.
Consulting the grandfather clock in the corner of the room, Luna frowned slightly. It was just after 9am. When Stefan asked her to come to the lodge, parallel play wasn’t what she’d had in mind.
Ah well. She had a bit of admin work to catch up on. Logging into her email, she found a message from a recruitment agent she’d been in communication with, now that her work for Sören was reaching its conclusion. To no great surprise, there was also a message from Dagmar saying she wouldn’t manage to fly to Shetland next week. And if this made Luna feel a little melancholy, well, she reminded herself, it was nothing to how utterly bereft she’d been when she started her assignment there. What a difference a few months made.
Finally, there was an email from Sören, a response to one she’d sent him the morning after the screening event at the Fisherman’s Rest.
She finished her work at just before 11 and resolved to go for a run, a decision she regretted within ten minutes of setting off along a dirt path that skirted the loch. Midges. She’d forgotten about the midges here in the Highlands; large, biting insects that descended in clouds on animals and humans alike. The weather had closed in since the previous day and something about the humidity and low-lying cloud brought them out in droves. Luna briefly considered just going back to the house, but decided to battle on, pulling up the hood on her sweatshirt and tightening it around her face.
And then the thunder started.
Softly at first, some distance away, but growing louder and more frequent with every passing minute. She calculated that she was around two miles away from the lodge when the midges suddenly disappeared and large, fat raindrops began to fall. Resigning herself to the prospect that she was about to get very, very wet, Luna turned back the way she’d come. This was fun, exciting, she thought, grinning to herself as she whipped off her hood, ozone filling her nose and the rumble of thunder reaching all the way down to the pit of her stomach.
It started to feel a little less fun when a massive lightning strike illuminated the loch, followed immediately by a heart-stopping clap of thunder. Perhaps the storm was approaching a little faster than she’d calculated.
Choosing the better part of valour, Luna scrambled up the next path that led to the gravel road running the length of the estate. The rain was literally pouring down now and as another flash of lightning filled the sky, Luna started sprinting down the road. She was about a mile from the house when she heard the sound of tires crunching up behind her and turned to see a Land Rover pulling to a halt.
The driver’s side window rolled down to reveal none other than Stefan, who shouted, ‘What the hell are you doing out here? Get in.’
Luna shook her head, gesturing to her soaking wet clothes. ‘I’ll get your car all wet,’ she protested.
Just then, another earth-shattering clap of thunder sounded. ‘Get in the bloody car, Luna,’ Stefan ordered.
Luna ran around to the passenger side and hopped in, immediately pulling off her sodden sweatshirt and dropping it with a wet plop on the floor of the Land Rover. Laughing, she started to remove her shoes.
‘Are you actually trying to get yourself killed?’ Stefan asked, gesturing to the roof of the Land Rover, which was rattling loudly in the deluge.
‘No,’ Luna said, kicking off her squelching shoes and inserting her fingers into the waistband of her leggings. ‘It wasn’t raining when I started out.’
‘But surely you saw the clouds coming,’ he insisted, putting the 4x4 into gear and pulling back onto the road.
‘Well, obviously I didn’t,’ Luna replied, peeling her leggings off, laughing again. Stefan clearly didn’t think any of this was funny, and she could see him winding up to deliver a long, Swedish lecture on the incredible stupidity of running in a forest during a thunderstorm. So she cut him off at the pass, pointedly removing her sports bra and pulling the seat belt over her now naked chest. Still driving, Stefan glanced over at her and opened his mouth. Whereupon Luna lifted her butt off the car seat and slid her knickers off. He shut his mouth.
By the time he pulled up outside of the lodge, the rain had begun to ease off and the thunder was fading into the distance. Luna looked over at Stefan and, stretching in her seat, enquired, ‘All done with Gus?’
‘All done,’ he nodded, turning off the engine.
‘And,’ Luna added, ‘just so I’m perfectly clear, we are completely alone now? You’ve given every single member of staff the weekend off?’
Stefan turned and rested his arm on the steering wheel, eying her up. ‘I have,’ he confirmed.
‘Right then,’ Luna said, opening her door and hopping out. Running buck naked down the grass lawn in front of the house, she paused briefly at the top of a set of stone stairs leading down to the wooden dock. Behind her Stefan had exited the Land Rover and was walking down toward her.
‘The water is very cold, Luna,’ he shouted. ‘I wouldn’t do it if I were you.’ Which was all the incentive she needed. Running down the steps, she leapt onto the dock and pelted down it, not giving herself the opportunity to chicken out. Reaching the end, she launched herself off and tucked her body into a ball.
Jesus wept, the shock of it. Cold wasn’t the word for how freezing that water was. Luna surfaced and squealed loudly.
‘Oh my God, oh my God,’ she spluttered. ‘Oh my fucking God.’ She swam a few strokes, then treaded water, looking up at the dock, where Stefan was now watching her incredulously.
‘The water’s great!’ she assured him, teeth clenched, lips turning blue. ‘Come on in.’
‘I think I’ll give it a miss,’ Stefan replied, shaking his head.
‘Suit yourself,’ she said, dogpaddling nonchalantly in the direction of the ladder at the side of the dock, reaching for the bottom rung.
And suddenly Stefan was there, holding out his hand to her, inquiring drily, ‘Had enough?’ Luna grasped his hand with her own icy one and, heaven help her, something about the amused expression on his face… something about it compelled her to grasp his hand more firmly, brace her legs on the ladder and give a mighty pull.
He almost stopped himself. Almost. But she had the advantage of surprise on her side. Over he went, with a lou
d splash.
Teeth chattering, Luna climbed the rest of the ladder and pulled herself onto the dock just as a long stream of Swedish invectives began behind her. She paused long enough to be sure he wasn’t going to drown, but the minute his hand flailed onto the ladder she started running.
Sheer, blind panic kept her going for around fifty feet, till she got to the stone stairs and her muscles started seizing up. She turned to see Stefan lying on the dock, trying to pull off his waterlogged boots, cursing all the while. His clothes, she thought as she climbed the stairs, legs like rubber; those wet clothes were going to slow him down.
She was hunkered down in the bath, up to her neck in hot water by the time Stefan entered her bathroom, naked and shivering. Gesturing for her to budge up, he inserted a foot and hissed, ‘Otch, too fucking hot.’ And then tried again, slowly sinking into the water opposite her.
Luna sat back against the end of the bath, giving him her best butter-wouldn’t-melt look. To which Stefan started to laugh, the water in the tub quivering around him.
‘Oh, Miss Gregory,’ he said. ‘I am going to make you pay for that.’
*
Gus’s wife was bored, Luna could see that much. The couple came to the lodge for dinner that night, after Luna had taken what had to be one of the best naps of her life with Stefan. Maybe, she suggested to him when they woke in the late afternoon, stretching against one another, they should jump in freezing water together more often. To which Stefan had merely smiled and said, ‘If you think that’s going to get you out of what’s coming to you…’
He’d arranged for their meal to be delivered from the Kelpie, a coaching inn ten miles distant from the lodge that was part of the estate’s portfolio. And if Luna felt slightly guilty at the prospect of hosting a meal she’d had no hand in preparing, she overcame her scruples when she tucked into the succulent, note-perfect pork belly, asparagus and baby new potatoes.
