by Eden Bradley
Jamie left her in the middle of the room to set his toy bag on the wooden table. When he came back to her, he took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. As he’d had her do before, she focused on aligning her breath with his and he smiled in approval. And as that sense of utter connection kicked in, he moved in closer, until his forehead met hers. She breathed him in, exhaled, and felt her limbs go even weaker with exhilaration, anticipation. Love.
“Hey, baby,” he said quietly, “you ready?”
“Yes. I’m ready.”
“You love me?”
She smiled. “Oh, yes.”
“Love you, too, my sugar girl.”
When he kissed her, she sighed against his mouth as he opened hers with his soft, sleek tongue. He tasted of man and desire, and her body melted into his. He held her face more firmly, controlling the direction of the kiss, his fingers squeezing just hard enough to hurt. She loved it—every tiny signal of his authority over her. She loved that he could make her concerns and all the minutiae of the day disappear. And she loved the sensation of his lips on hers—so soft and sweet yet utterly commanding at the same time. How did he even manage that? But it had been that way with him from the very start.
Jamie.
Love you so much.
He let her go and stepped back. “Perfect that you’re wearing what I told you to. Such a pretty dress. But let’s not ruin it. Strip.”
“Oh. I . . .”
He took one step toward her and pressed his fingers into the tender space below her collarbone, into the pressure point there. “Do it now, love,” he said quietly.
She nodded, swallowed, realizing in some distant way that being a little afraid of him was a huge turn-on. Not knowing exactly what to expect, how much the hot wax would hurt, was a huge turn-on. The fact that all of this was happening with the man she loved was maybe the biggest turn-on of all.
Oh, yes . . .
Pulling the straps of her little black lace dress down, she shimmied her way out of it. Jamie gave a nod of his chin and she handed the dress to him before slipping out of her lacy bra, then undoing the garters on her black garter belt and sliding the sheer black seamed stockings down her legs. She had to step out of her high black stilettos to get the stockings off. Picking up the shoes, she silently handed them along with her bra and stockings to Jamie, who watched her with a sharp gleam in his green eyes. The barbell piercing his eyebrow glittered wickedly in the low lighting. Why did his piercings, his tattoos, make him seem all the more devilishly sexy when these things never had the same effect on her with any other man? But his demeanor and knowing what was coming were making her wet.
She was brought back into the moment by Jamie reaching out and pinching her nipple, hard.
“Oh!”
“Where were you, baby?”
“Right here, Jamie. I promise.”
“See that you are,” he warned.
She nodded, then got out of her garter belt and black lace thong. It felt so good to be naked—the vulnerability of it always took her down to another level of subspace when they were in-scene.
“Don’t move, my girl,” he said before turning to carefully fold each article of her scant clothing and setting the small pile on the long wooden table, leaving her to shiver as an exquisite anticipation spiraled in her.
With his back still to her, he began to pull chains from his bag, and the primal clink of metal on metal made her nipples go hard, made her skin itch to feel them on her body. He worked slowly, making it pure torture to watch him. To wait. She took a deep breath and tried to calm her racing pulse as she reminded herself that everything he did was part of the beautiful mind-fuck they both loved.
Finally he turned back to her and moved in closer. He smoothed his palm over the small of her back, and even that simple touch made her tremble with need.
“This is how it’s going to come down, sugar. I’m going to lay you out on this vinyl table and cuff your wrists and ankles to the chains, which will be attached to the table by the steel bars on the sides. They’re incredibly strong, so no matter how you squirm you can’t get away. No matter how bad the pain gets, the only thing that gets you out is using one of your safewords. Tell me you understand.”
“I understand, Jamie.”
“Tell me your safewords. I want them foremost in your mind before we get started.”
Oh God. How bad was this going to hurt? But she wanted it to. Wanted to do this for him. Wanted the pain, to test her limits. Her mind was buzzing.
“Yellow if I need to pause or to change toys, which I have a feeling is not an option tonight—”
“It’s not.”
She nodded. “Red if I need to stop the scene completely.”
“Good girl. Hands clasped behind your back.”
Good girl.
Her legs went weak as she did as he asked.
Jamie kissed her cheek, her temple, his hands going to her shoulders, sliding down to cup her breasts, then gripping until she groaned. He moved his hands lower, over her buttocks, squeezing and kneading, harder and harder, finding the pressure points. When she came up on her toes to get away from the pain, he smiled.
“Your skin is so hot under my hands,” he said. “This is going to be so good. Come here.”
Lifting her, he set her on the edge of the vinyl table. She had one moment to realize how cool the red vinyl was against her naked thighs, her burning naked sex, then he kicked her legs apart, stepped between them and thrust his fingers inside her.
“Ah!”
She reached for his broad shoulders to steady herself.
“That’s it, sugar. You love it when I fuck you, whether it’s with my cock or my hand, don’t you?” His voice was rough with desire. “You are so damn wet. Fucking beautiful. Makes me so hard.” He pumped his fingers into her, deeper, faster.
“Ah, God . . .”
“Yeah, that’s it, baby.”
He thrust hard into her pussy, over and over. She grew wetter and wetter as pleasure poured into her system, until she was soaking his hand and the table beneath her. Until she was moaning and panting, ready to come.
“Ah-ah. Not yet.” He pulled his fingers from her swollen and needy sex and pressed her down onto the table on her back.
She started to fold her thighs together, unable to help herself, but he forced her legs apart with strong hands. Leaning over her he ordered, “Eyes on me, Summer Grace.”
As she looked up at him, the only thoughts in her head were how beautiful he was and how badly she needed to come. How much more she needed to please him. Needed to.
“You know I see your desire, that everything I do is to make it good for you. And I think this is going to be so good for you. The wax is going to be hot. It’s going to feel like it’s burning your skin, but I will not let you walk away with blisters. The point is always to hurt, but not harm. You know I believe in that. Do you trust me?”
The answer came easily. “Of course I do. I trust you.”
He kept his gaze on hers, his eyes brilliant, letting her know how deeply immersed he was in Topspace. He bent and brushed a kiss across her lips, then over her cheek, whispering, “Love you, my sugar girl. You are infinitely precious to me. I would never harm you. Never. But I’m going to hurt you now because we both love it so much. Because it’ll make you fly so high. It’ll make me fly, in my own way. The pain always brings us closer, and I can’t seem to get close enough to you.” He paused, stroking her hair. “Stay here now, love. Stay still and wait.”
She smiled as he straightened up and reached behind him, coming back with a length of chain with one of the leather cuffs already clipped to one end. He attached the chain to the table, then he took one of her ankles in his hands and buckled the cuff around it.
“Comfortable?”
“Yes,
Jamie.”
“Not cutting off your circulation?”
“No, Jamie.”
He did the same to the other ankle, leaving her legs spread wide. She loved how it made her feel. Wanton. His.
Standing at the foot of the table, he watched her. “You’ll find that I’ve left a little slack in the chains. I love the sound they make when you pull against them.” He paused, his gaze roving over her face, her body. “So, so pretty. All of you. And your pussy is beautiful right now, so pink and wet I can’t stand it.”
To her surprise he bent over her and placed a kiss there, right on her aching clit, making heat pound like a hammer of pure desire, bringing her pleasure even as it tortured her. He stood up and licked his lips.
“Like honey. Like sugar, my sweet girl.”
Tracing the lines of her body with his fingertips, keeping contact as he moved around the table attaching the chains, he placed her wrists in the cuffs and secured them, then checked in with her again.
“Still good? Circulation okay?”
“Yes. Still good.”
He stepped back to survey his handiwork, and as she watched him through the glaze of subspace, he unbuttoned his dark shirt and took it off. A frisson of heat trembled through her system, between her thighs, at his stark male beauty. She pulled a little against her bonds, writhing on the table, hearing the metallic clink of the chains. And she loved the sound, maybe because he did.
Need him to touch me.
But he turned away from her to pull a few items from his bag—two tall pillar candles in glass containers, a long fireplace lighter, his first-aid kit, the big hunting knife he’d carried since he was a teenager. He laid it all out on the table, lit the candles, and she breathed in the scent of warming wax, the earthy scent of the burning wick. She felt her muscles tensing a little—there was no denying she was nervous. She knew some people used less potent candles in sensual play and massage, but this was Jamie, and although he was always sensual, he was also always a sadist.
He played with the candles for several minutes, letting the wax melt and pool. When he turned back to her with one of the candles in his hand, she had some idea of what was coming. Her pulse tripped, revved up a few notches.
He laid the palm of one hand flat on her stomach. “Hold very still,” he warned her before he poured.
The wax landed on one thigh, and at first the shock of the heat made her yelp. Then for a second or two she thought it wasn’t as hot as she expected. But when he poured again in the same spot, the second pour sealing in the heat of the first, the pain was like a simmering buildup that took a few seconds to hit her brain.
“Ah, fucking Christ!”
“Breathe,” he commanded, and she pulled in a gasping breath.
He gave her a minute, then he poured again, this time on the other thigh. The wax had obviously had time to build in temperature, because the burn came right away, and she cried out.
“God, Jamie!” The chains clinked and crashed as she yanked on them, her body convulsing in pain.
He stroked a hand over her skin, his touch soothing, helping her to convert the pain to pleasure. “Shh, you’ll be okay. You can take it, Summer Grace.”
She bit her lip, then made herself pull in and blow out a few breaths.
“Okay?”
“Yes. Okay. I want to take it. For you, Jamie.”
“Good girl.”
This time he moved his hand between her breasts and poured onto her stomach and she yelled again.
“Fuck!”
“Breathe,” he told her, his hand smoothing over her breasts, caressing them, pausing to feather his fingertips over her nipples, bringing some pleasure to help her ride out the pain. She sighed.
“Summer Grace.”
Blinking, she looked up at him, and he held her gaze while he played with her nipple, teasing it into a hard point. Still holding her gaze, he drew his hand back to pour the melted wax over her breasts.
“Ah! Jamie . . . Goddamn it, that hurts!”
With a small smile he bent to kiss her lips. “Yes it does, sweetheart.”
It did—it hurt like hell. But at the same time her body was being flooded with endorphins and dopamine—the lovely brain chemicals that made her fly. That and the fact that he called her those sweet pet names while he hurt her really did something to her head.
He did it again and again and she lost track of time, of their surroundings. All that she was had to do with Jamie’s touch, the burning pain, the sound of her own cries in her ears. And all of it while he stayed close enough that she could smell his skin, his desire. All of it while her body burned with a need so intense she thought she might come as he poured the wax onto her skin.
Impossible.
But nothing was impossible with Jamie.
She flew, safe in his command, under his hands, in his love. And it was everything.
* * *
JAMIE PRESSED DOWN on Summer Grace’s skin, the heat beneath his palm melting into his skin. For some reason he couldn’t quite understand, he welcomed the pain. Welcomed that moment of connecting with what she was feeling.
He glanced up at her face, so lovely and soft. So lost in subspace. So entirely his.
She was squirming on the table, pulling a little on the chains as her body undulated He was certain she had no idea what she was doing. No idea how unbelievably beautiful she was. How hot it was for him to watch her moan and squirm, to hear the metallic clink of the heavy chains, to see her bound in them.
He licked his lips as he slipped a hand between her spread thighs. She was soaked, swollen. When he stroked her hard clit, she gasped. His cock twitched. He pushed his fingers inside her, and she was so hot and wet it nearly sent him over the edge. He stripped his jeans off, kicked his way out of them and his boots, grabbing a condom from the table before climbing onto the table on top of her.
She looked up at him with that sensual, gleaming blue gaze as he knelt up between her spread legs to slide the condom over his hard cock.
“Have to be inside you, baby,” he murmured, hearing the desperation in his own voice.
“Yes. Please, Jamie. Yes.”
As he slid his hands under her buttocks, lifting her, opening her up, she bit her lip, her fingers wrapping around the chains that still held her to the table. He shifted, pulled her hips a little higher, and surged slowly into her.
“Ah, Jesus.”
She was so wet and tight and clenching his cock already. Pleasure went through him in a rush that made him dizzy. Keeping one hand under her, he stroked her body with the other, finding her skin in between the patches of wax hardening on her stomach and ribs. He began to move inside her, and raised his hand to her face, which was torn with pleasure. Touching her lips he ordered, “Suck,” and slipped two fingers into her mouth.
Wrapping her lips around his fingers, her tongue slid over the tips, in between them. She worked them as she would his cock, and he had to force himself to calm, to not explode inside her. He began to fuck her in rhythm with her warm, sucking mouth, losing himself in the cadence, in her body, in her utter submission to him.
Summer Grace.
“You are mine, my sugar girl. My girl. My heart,” he muttered, gasping in between the words that didn’t do enough to convey what he felt.
She moaned around his fingers to tell him, “I’m going to come. Please, Jamie. I need to . . . Please.”
“Yes. Come for me. I’m gonna come, too. Now . . . Right now. Ah!”
He fell on top of her as his climax came down on him like a wave of heat and need that drowned him in sensation. He grasped the chains above her head, felt her fingers searching for his and twined their hands together as she shuddered, as she came with him.
“Baby, baby, baby . . .”
“Jamie. Love you, Jamie.”
He drew in a long bre
ath, breathing it all in—the scents of desire and candle wax, their intermingled sweat and come. The scent of her hair and what was left of her sugary lip gloss. And he had to kiss her, to drink her in. To drink in this moment. He pressed his lips to hers, heard her small sigh, felt her body give in to his once more. And it was perfect. They were perfect.
CHAPTER
Twelve
SUMMER TURNED ONTO the main boulevard and headed toward home. The city was quiet on a Sunday night, and she considered stopping for groceries but decided she could do her shopping tomorrow night after work. She wanted to stay in her head, exactly in this lovely space where Jamie had put her. Her cell phone lit up, but she saw it was her mother’s number, and let the call go to voice mail. She wasn’t ready to tell her about Jamie, about their budding relationship. And she didn’t want anything to intrude on her mood.
Their weekend together had been incredible. Being with all their friends made her feel more like a couple somehow. And then their night at The Bastille . . . She was still flying from the wax play, and even more from the amazing connection she’d felt that night, and still felt. The weekend had stripped away the nagging voice full of doubts that always seemed to be lurking in the back of her mind, waiting to come out and take over. But Jamie’s love, his tenderness after they played and even during the play, wiped out everything else. If only they could be together all the time those voices might not ever come back.
A small shadow of self-doubt flitted through her mind, but she fought it down.
“No,” she murmured to herself. “Everything is fine. We’re together. He’s not going anywhere.”
She made another turn into her neighborhood and the lights and buzz of the city gave way to the quiet Gentilly district. She passed the rows of old homes, some of them still closed up or showing signs of damage from Katrina, many more restored to their former glory. She was glad to see her neighborhood coming back to life, blossoming in the wake of the terrible storm. She felt somewhat the same inside.
Jamie was making her blossom in a way she’d never been sure was possible. The idea made her smile to herself as she pulled into her narrow driveway. Getting out of the car, she grabbed her purse and her overnight bag. She went up the stairs and unlocked the front door, eager to get inside, to get things ready for work in the morning so she could climb into bed, close her eyes and remember every detail from the weekend.
