by J. R. Ward
Chapter Twenty-nine
As Jane waited for V to speak, she wanted to wrap her arms around him. She wanted to throw a whole lot of very sincere, ultimately lame words at him. She wanted to know whether his father had, in fact, died in flames, and she hoped the bastard had.
When the silence continued, she said, "I don't know if this will help. . . probably won't, but I have to say something here. I can't stomach oatmeal. To this day, it makes me sick. " She prayed she wasn't going to say to wrong thing. "It is okay that you're still struggling with everything that was done to you. Anyone would. It doesn't make you weak. You were violently maimed by someone who should have protected and nurtured you. The fact that you're still standing is a miracle. I respect you for it. "
V's cheeks went pink. "I, ah. . . don't really see it that way. "
"Fine. But I do. " To give him a break, she cleared her throat and said, "You going to tell me why we're here?"
He rubbed his face like he was trying to clear his brain. "Shit, I want to be with you. Here. "
She exhaled in relief and sadness. She wanted a goodbye with him, also. A good-bye that was sexual and private and not in the bedroom they'd been locked in together. "I want to be with you, too. "
Another candle came to life over by a bank of curtains. Then a fourth by a wet bar. A fifth next to a big bed with black satin sheets on it.
She started to smile. . . until the sixth one lit up. There was something hanging off the wall. . . something that looked like. . . chains?
More candles flared. Masks. Whips. Canes. Gags.
A black table with restraints that hung down to the floor.
She wrapped her arms around herself, chilled. "So this is where you do the tying-up. "
"Yeah. "
Oh, Jesus. . . She didn't want that kind of good-bye. Trying to stay calm, she said, "You know, it makes sense, given what happened to you. That you'd like that. " Shit, she couldn't handle this. "So. . . is it men or women? Or, like, a combination?"
She heard the creaking of leather and turned back to him. He was taking off his jacket, and a set of guns she hadn't seen were next. Followed by two black knives that had been hidden as well. Christ, he'd been totally armed.
Jane tightened the hold on herself. She wanted to be with him, but not tied down and masked while he pulled a 9 1/2 Weeks on her head and whipped the shit out of her body. "Listen, V, I don't think¡ª"
He took his shirt off, his back muscles flexing up his spine, his pecs pumping fully, then settling. He kicked off his boots.
Holy. . . shit, she thought, as it dawned on her what this was really about.
His socks and his leathers were next, and, as he'd gone commando, there were no boxers to get rid of. In total silence he padded across the glossy marble floor and got up on the table in a coordinated surge. Stretching out, he was utterly magnificent, his body heavy with muscle, his movements elegant and masculine. He took a deep breath, his rib cage rising and falling.
Fine tremors licked over his skin. . . or maybe it was the candlelight?
He swallowed hard.
No, it was fear that was making him twitch.
"Pick out a mask for me," he said in a low voice.
"V. . . no. "
"A mask and a ball gag. " He turned his head toward her. "Do it. Then put the cuffs on me. " When she didn't move, he nodded at what hung on the wall. "Please. "
"Why?" she asked, watching the sweat break out over his body.
He closed his eyes, and his lips barely moved. "You've given me so much¡ªand not just a weekend of your life. I tried to think of what I could give you in return¡ªyou know, fair-trade shit, throwing up oatmeal for deets on my scars. The only thing I've got is me and this. . . " He tapped the rack's hard wood with his knuckles. "This is as exposed as I could ever be, and that's what I want to give you. "
"I don't want to hurt you. "
"I know. " His lids flipped open. "But I want you to have me as no one else has or will. So pick out the mask. "
As he swallowed, she watched his Adam's apple roll along the column of his thick throat. "This is not the kind of gift I want. Or the kind of good-bye. "
There was a long silence. Then he said, "Remember I told you about the arranged-marriage thing?"
"Yes. "
"It's going down in a matter of days. "
Oh, now she really didn't want this. To think she was with someone else's fianc¨¦¡ª
"I haven't met the female. She hasn't met me. " He looked over at Jane. "And she's the first of about forty. "
"Forty?"
"I'm supposed to sire all their children. "
"Oh, God. "
"So here's the thing. Sex is all about biological function from here on out. And see, I haven't really ever put myself out there, true? I want to do this with you because. . . Well, anyway, I just do. "
She looked at him. The cost of laying himself out like this was in his wide, bouncing eyes and his pale face and the sweat that beaded his chest. To say no was to degrade his courage.
"What. . . " Holy shit. "What exactly do you want me to do to you?"
When V finished telling her, he turned away and stared at the ceiling. The candlelight played across the broad, black expanse, making it look like a pool of oil. As he waited for Jane's response, he was hit by vertigo, feeling as if the room had flipped itself over and he was suspended above the ceiling, about to be dropped into it and swallowed by Quaker State's best.
Jane didn't say a word.
Jesus. . . Nothing like offering yourself raw and being shut down.
Then again, maybe she didn't like vampire sushi.
He jumped as her hand came to rest on his foot. And then he heard the metal-on-metal sound of a buckle being lifted. He looked down his naked body as a four-inch leather strap looped around his ankle. At the sight of her pale hands working to restrain him, his cock punched into an erection.
Jane's face was all concentration as she put the end of the leather tongue through the buckle and tugged to the left. "Is this okay?"
"Tighter. "
Without glancing up she gave a good solid pull. As the strap bit into his skin, V's head dropped back on the wood and he moaned.
"Too much?" she asked.
"No. . . " He trembled outright as she anchored his other leg, both terrified and really fucking aroused. The feelings intensified as she did one wrist, then the other.
"Now the gag and the mask. " His voice was hoarse because his blood was running hot and cold, and his throat was as tight as the restraints.
She looked at him. "You sure?"
"Yeah. One of the masks is the kind that just goes over the eyes, and that will fit. "
When she came back to him she had a red rubber ball in a head halter and the mask in her hands.
"The gag first," he told her, opening his mouth wide. Her eyes shut for a moment, and he wondered if she was going to stop, but then she leaned forward. The ball tasted like latex, a stinging, bitter bite on his tongue. As he lifted his head so she could strap it on him, his breath whistled through his nose.
Jane shook her head. "I can't do the mask. I need to see your eyes. I can't. . . Yeah, I won't do this without eye contact. Okay?"
It was probably a good idea. The gag was doing what it should, making him feel suffocated. . . and the restraints were doing what they should, making him feel trapped. If he couldn't see and know that it was her, he'd probably totally fucking lose it.
When he nodded she dropped the mask onto the floor and took off her coat. Then she went over and picked up one of the black candles.
V's lungs burned as she came at him.
She took a deep breath. "You sure?"
He nodded again even as his thighs twitched and his eyes bugged out. With dread and excitement, he watched as she extended her arm over his chest. . . and tipped the candle.
Black wax dripped onto his nipple, and he ground hi
s teeth into the ball gag, straining against what kept him on the table until the leather creaked. His cock jumped on his belly, and he had to suck back the orgasm.
She did exactly what he'd told her he wanted, going down lower and lower on his torso, then skipping over his privates to start at his knees and work her way up. The pain had a cumulative effect, at first nothing more than bee stings, later growing intense. Sweat rolled down his temples and ribs, and he panted through his nose until his whole body was bowing up from the table.
He came the first time when she put the candle away, picked up a length of cane. . . and touched the head of his erection with the end of it. He barked against the gag and ejaculated all over the hardened black wax on his stomach.
Jane froze, as if the reaction surprised her. Then she ran the cane through the mess he'd made, coating his chest with what had come out of him. The bonding scent flooded the penthouse, and so did his groans of submission as she stroked up and down his torso, then onto his hips.
He came a second time when she slipped the cane between his legs and stroked the insides of his thighs with it. Fear and sex and love filled out his skin from the inside, becoming the muscles and bones that made him up; he was nothing but emotion and need, with her as the driver of him.
And then she brought the cane down across his thighs with a slice of her arm.
Jane couldn't believe she was getting hot, considering what she was doing. But with V stretched out and pinned and orgasming for her, it was hard not to jump on him.
She used the cane lightly on him, no doubt less than he wanted, but hard enough to leave marks on his thighs and his belly and his chest. She couldn't believe he liked it like this, considering what he'd been put through, but in fact he loved it. His eyes were focused on her and glowing bright as bulbs, casting white shadows over the buttery light of the candles. As he came yet again, that dark, spicy scent she associated with him wafted up anew.
God, it shamed and fascinated her that she wanted to go even further with what was available. . . that she eyed the box of metal clips and the whips on the wall no longer as aberrant but as representative of a host of erotic possibilities. It wasn't that she wanted to hurt him. She just wanted him to feel as intensely as he did now. The point was taking him to his sexual limit.
Eventually she got so worked up she pulled off her pants and her underwear. "I'm going to fuck you," she told him.
He moaned desperately, hips swiveling and pushing upward. His erection was still rock-solid in spite of the number of times he'd ejaculated, and it pulsed as if he were going to go again.
As she got up onto the rack and split her thighs over his pelvis, he breathed through his nose with such force she grew alarmed. With his nostrils sucking in and out, she reached forward to undo the gag, but he jerked his head away and shook it.
"You sure?" she asked.
When he nodded fiercely, she eased down onto his semen-slicked hips and settled on the hard ridge of his arousal, her core parting over him, gripping him. His eyes rolled back in their sockets and his lids fluttered like he was about to pass out as he rocked against her to the extent he could.
While she rode back and forth on him, she took off her shirt and pushed her bra's cups to the side so that they molded her up and out. There was a mighty creak as V strained against the binds. If he'd been free, she was quite sure he would have had her on her back underneath him in the work of a moment.
"Watch me take you," she said, running one of her hands up to her neck. When her fingers coasted over the remnants of his bite mark, V's lips pulled back from the ball gag and his fangs elongated, digging into the red latex as he growled.
She kept touching herself where he'd bitten her while she rose on her knees and stood up his arousal. She sat on him good and hard, and he orgasmed as soon as he entered her, kicking deep inside, flooding her. He was still fully erect afterward, even as he stopped twitching.
Jane had never felt more sexual in her life as she began to grind on top of him. She loved that he was smeared with wax and the result of his orgasms, that his skin was gleaming with sweat and flaming red in places, that there was going to be a mess to clean up. She had done the whole of it to him, and he adored her for what had happened, and that was why it felt right.
As her own release came barreling in, she looked into his wide, wild eyes.
She wished she didn't ever have to leave him.
