Finders Keepers (Fairy Tales After Dark Book 2)

by Jessica Collins

  “That, and gives me an excuse to put my hands all over a beautiful woman’s naked body.”

  She sensed his smirk. “A worthy skill then, seeing as how you need all the help you can get.”

  She yelped as he swatted her uncovered ass, the sting a surprise. Just before she had a moment to respond, he kneaded and rubbed the area he just reddened, the sensation of the pain, then pleasure, not entirely unwelcome. This time, before she could control it, a moan escaped her lips.

  Trying to regain control, she told him, “Don’t do that again.”

  “Right. Because you hated it.”

  He continued to massage her leg, just as he had done before. Just when she thought she couldn’t handle any more of his innocent teasing, he covered her, moving up and lifting the sheet off her back. He pulled it up, covering his face.

  “Turn over, and move down the bed a few inches,” he commanded, surprising her.

  Without question, she did as he said, wanting more of whatever pleasure his hands were going to provide. When she settled, he draped the sheet back over her and, removing the pillow from her ankles, he bent her knees and placed it under them for support.

  He pulled a chair around, sitting behind her head. Lifting up her head, he moved her hair out from under her and away from the table, brushing his fingers over her shoulders. When he pulled the strands, rather than pain, it only heightened her arousal.

  He did this a few times, running his fingers through her hair, scratching against her scalp, and then pulling her hair back just enough to cause a rush.

  He moved her hair a final time, placing a blindfold over her eyes, wrapping the elastic around her hair, darkening the room once more.

  “What are you doing?” Surely, this can’t be part of the massage.

  His chuckle was kind. “Relax, Princess. It’s all part of the process.”

  “I doubt they blindfold you in a real massage parlor.”

  His hands grasped her shoulders ever so lightly. Clearing his throat, he bent low to her ear, whispering, “They cover your eyes with a cloth. But I’ve been dreaming about blindfolding you for weeks now.”

  Her nipples hardened at his breath at her ear. She took a breath, hating how her body responded.

  “Really? Why?”

  “Sensory deprivation. Heightens … well, everything.”

  She still didn’t fully agree with the idea of Domination/submission, but she was curious. She’d been more aroused by his commanding voice and the images she’d researched than she had ever been. And then, there was his story at dinner. It was almost too much. To answer his question, she did trust him, but she couldn’t fathom why or how he had got into the lifestyle. Time to find out.

  “Why do you do it? The whole … Dom thing?” Her voice was soft as she asked. “You say it’s about the women, but there has to be something more in it for you.”

  His hands turned her head, gliding down the side of her throat. He slowly worked the muscles in her neck, using the perfect amount of pressure.

  “There’s no greater feeling than giving my woman an orgasm. Having full control of when she has it? That’s fucking priceless.”

  “‘No greater feeling?’ What about your orgasm? Isn’t that the whole reason you do it?”

  He laughed gently. “I’ll admit, it feels amazing for me too.” He spoke in her ear, his breath warm against her, “But when you were on my bike, riding me, coming apart against my cock, I swear to fucking Christ, I was in heaven.”

  Her cheeks burned from his words, and the memory.

  “So … if I were your sub, you’d have me—”

  Before she could finish her thought, he jumped in, “There’d be days I wouldn’t let you off my fingers, my tongue. I’d be inside you so long you’d think my cock was attached; you’d come so hard, so many times, you wouldn’t even remember how to walk.”

  Her breaths quickened as he spoke.

  “Got you thinking about it, huh?”

  “How can I not think about something you’re saying?” she responded sarcastically, desperate to regain control over her reactions. She cleared her throat, seriousness returning. “Does that mean you’d keep me as a slave? Expect me to call you ‘daddy’?”

  “I don’t keep slaves — and I’m not into littles either.”

  She didn’t understand half of what he said, but it didn’t matter. “What are you into?”

  “Your kind, actually.”

  “My kind? What kind is that? The non-existent one,” she smiled at her joke.

  “You, Princess, are a brat — a submissive who’s petulant, yet playful. Who talks back, liking the idea of me taking control, even though what I do is actually the opposite. I give control to you.”

  “Maybe I just don’t like the idea of BDSM at all — it’s not bratty if I disagree.”

  “Your reactions say otherwise.”

  She huffed. It was fruitless lying. “Why do you want to ‘take control’ then?”

  “By taking control, I allow you to shut off your brain. To submit entirely. I’m responsible for ensuring your pleasure. All you need to focus on is me. Trust I’m going to give you more pleasure than you’ve ever had before.”

  “Okay, but if you think I want you to have control, then why punish? Why the whips and all?”

  “It’s part of my duty as a Dom, and your role as brat. The thing you still don’t understand yet — it’s the sub who holds all the power. The sub has to allow me to offer discipline or punishment as I see fit for correcting behavior. But, if at any time the sub refuses, punishment ends. It’s not about abuse. Not ever.”

  “So, if I told you to remove the blindfold?” she asked, testing him.

  “Then I would. But that’s not what you want.”

  His hands circled her neck, thumbs digging into the back of her shoulders as his fingers gently squeezed around her throat. Her pussy throbbed at the motion.

  “What you want is for me to take control. To take you out of your head.” His fingers danced along her collarbone before dipping lower. The tips of his fingers grazed the tops of her nipples under the thin sheet as he spoke, “To fuck you the way you need to be fucked.”

  She sucked in a breath at his words, heat rushing throughout her body. His fingers moved down her sides, brushing against the mounds of her breasts. He was right, she wanted him to touch her, to kiss her, to fuck her. As he brought his hands back up her ribcage, his fingers grazed the bottoms of her breasts, circling around them before returning to the side and then up over her chest.

  Now or never, Jayla.

  “Show me,” she whispered.

  Fuck. Me.

  There she lay, as a present waiting to be unwrapped. She’d finally given in and asked him to show her what he could do. His cock had been swollen since he walked into the room. With her words, he grew nearly painful, begging to be released. What he wanted was to tie her to his bed and fuck her senseless. What she needed was the knowledge that he only offered pleasure — not the pain she had been subjected to for so long.

  When Snow came to him the other night, explaining her plan, he’d been wholly unconvinced Jayla was ready. Now, he’d made a mental note to send Snow the best “thank you” package he could think of.

  Massaging Jayla had given him the means to tease her, push her past her discomfort. Maybe Gene was right, maybe he could be good for her, show her what a real man was like.

  What he hadn’t anticipated was how hard it would be to resist her. Normally, he had better control over himself, but with Jayla, he was like a teenager again, unable to keep his cock at bay.

  Alistair pulled her arms over her head, and the sheet that covered her inched lower, grazing against her erect nipples, nearly exposing her full breasts to him completely.

  He moved back, opening a cabinet behind him. First, he removed a soft, plush blanket and covered her gently. Returning to the cabinet, he removed a clean sheet. Using his teeth and hands, he ripped it into long shreds. When he was certain he ha
d enough of the makeshift bindings, he turned back to her. “Choose a safe word, Jayla. One word, and the second you say it — this all stops. No questions asked.”

  He often chose them himself, but she needed different, she needed options.

  As he had massaged her, his fingertips had trailed over raised scars throughout her torso — some on her upper legs and arms. He ventured a guess these scars were not self-inflicted. Nor an accident.

  “Jasmine,” she breathed, her voice strained.

  He smiled, fully aware she was trying her hardest to keep in control of her arousal. That, Princess, is the one thing I won’t let you have control of.

  “Good. You say ‘jasmine’, I stop completely. If you say yellow, it means you’re growing uncomfortable. I will take it into consideration — I may or may not stop. Understood?”

  He watched the motion of her throat as she swallowed, nodding.

  “When you’re with me, like this, I expect a verbal answer. You will answer ‘yes, Sir’ or ‘no, Sir’. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I understand.” A pause. “I’m not calling you ‘Sir’.”

  As she was blindfolded, he allowed himself to smile at her response. Perfect.

  He walked toward her feet, ensuring to step heavily enough she could hear his footsteps. Reaching under the blanket, he grasped her firmly by her ankles.

  She tensed under him, but he simply waited until he felt her body relax again. Confident she was ready, he pulled her forward a few inches.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, voice slightly raised. There was a mixture of fear and questioning in her voice, along with a hint of anticipation.

  “Trust me, Jayla.” He rubbed his hands up from her ankles to the back of her knees and waited for her to relax once again. When she complied, he grabbed just under her knees, pulling her another few inches toward him. When in the position he wanted, her ass just hanging off the edge, he pulled the blanket back. He hissed a breath through his teeth at the sight of her gleaming pussy.

  “Beautiful,” he said as his hands splayed her thighs, his thumbs rubbing toward her center. Her thighs tensed for a just a moment before she took a breath, then relaxed under his touch. He allowed his thumbs to move closer, watching her face for discomfort. As her lips parted in want, he moved them closer, just brushing her soft, trimmed curls.

  Her chest rose quickly, her breaths coming in short pants. He smiled again as he continued his ministrations, just barely grazing her slit. He traced down the lines of her lips, her wetness coating the edges of his fingers. His cock jerked in his pants, wanting to drive into her.

  He paused just a beat before lowering his forearms to her thighs, pushing her legs open wide, kneeling in front of her. He took her right ankle, tying the cloth around it and pulling her leg to the side, wrapping it around the back of the table. Taking the remaining end, he secured it around her other ankle. If she moved one leg, it would pull on the other, keeping her wide open for him. He looked up, noticing her breathing quickening even more.

  “How’s my Princess doing?” he asked.

  “O-okay,” she stuttered.

  His lips quirked in a smile again at her obvious arousal. He moved to the front end of the bed, pulling her arms above her head as he tied them together with another length of cloth. He bound the other end around the base of the front of the table, causing her upper body to stretch.

  Bending forward, he placed his lips against hers, slowly kissing her upside-down mouth. He was gentle, sucking and biting just so, running his tongue along the edge of her teeth, his lips barely touching hers. Her body squirmed, attempting to reach up for him, to push harder against him.

  Reaching for the blanket, in one swift move he pulled hard, baring her body to him. She gasped as he drank her in. Her generous breasts were on full display, their browned nipples stiff, waiting to be suckled. Her tattoos were perfectly placed and designed, enhancing her beauty.

  Down her right leg, from hip to ankle, he saw the design in full display — sensuously curving filigree, a few flowers and other images worked in, coating her leg, accentuating her soft beauty.

  Then there was the tiger stalking down her left side — a warning: Don’t fuck with me. The small patch of raised skin, almost perfectly hidden in the tiger’s stripes, had him balling his fists at his side.

  Other than the ink, her skin was littered with discolorations — scarring from broken bones, a few resembling sutures. Artwork covered most of the marks, but the raised skin couldn’t be fully hidden.

  On the ribs opposite from the tiger, two lines of wording in a language he didn’t recognize stretched across her side. He traced it with his fingers, her body responding in a shiver.

  “What does this say?” he asked softly.

  “‘Strength is what we gain from the madness we survive.’” She didn’t hesitate in her response.

  Fucking bastard, he thought again as he processed her words. Looking at the masterpiece in front of him, he couldn’t image a man who would do anything other than fucking worship her. Despite his best efforts, the man who had done this to her hadn’t taken any of her beauty — or strength.

  He was going to rectify as much as he could tonight, to give back to her what that coward had taken.

  Seeing her in front of him, bound and blindfolded as her breaths quivered and her pussy gleamed — it was a sight he would remember for as long as he lived. He drank in his fill of her, his fingertips tracing various lines on her body, trying to decide where to begin.

  “Jayla,” he started, voice low.

  “Yes?” Her answer strained with concern.

  “You are … fucking gorgeous, Jayla.”

  The corners of her lips lifted as the top of her chest turned pink, the color traveling up her neck to her face. He loved watching her skin redden, loved knowing it was his words that caused the reaction. He wanted her to believe him — not assume he was teasing.

  “Th-thank you.”

  His hand traced her left thigh, his palm opening as he rubbed up toward her center. “One day, I’m going to keep you tied, just so I can stare at you at my leisure. Not today, though.”

  He settled in, kneeling between her legs, his hands tracing her inner thighs as his thumbs teased her slit. Her hips lifted off the table at the touch.

  “I’m going to have such fun with you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Oh, please! Alistair, please!” she called out, her voice harsh. He’d been edging her for what felt like hours, the pleasure bordering on pain.

  And she loved it.

  “That’s not what you’re to call me, Princess,” he growled against her swollen, wet lips. Darting his tongue inside her folds again, his fingers circled inside her, pressing firmly against her inner wall. Her body jolted upright, fighting against her bonds as she strained for release.

  As his thumb circled her clit, lights flashed behind her eyelids. Orgasm with Jeffrey? Non-existent. Orgasm by herself? Fireworks. Orgasm with Alistair? Fucking nuclear. If only he would let her finish!

  “PLEASE!” she cried, tears flowing down the sides of her face. She never imagined not orgasming could be this good.

  He turned his face, kissing her thighs gently as his fingers continued to work her. The juxtaposition of his sweet kisses against the onslaught of her senses threatening to undo her. She thought he was domineering outside of the bedroom? Pfft. It took all of her control not to call him ‘Sir’. It appeared until she did, he’d keep this up. And she was game.

  He stood, his mouth kissing, licking, up her torso. His tongue circled her navel, trailing up toward her breasts. He took a swollen nipple in between his teeth, biting as his tongue moved around it. Blood rushed toward the sensitive nub as his suction deepened, stopping again just before it became too much. He did the same to the other side, all while his fingers lazily played with her pussy.

  “Your taste, woman. You’re addictive.” He rumbled against her breast. “Give me what I want and I’ll let yo
u come on my tongue. Lap your sweet juices dry.”

  Yes, Sir. “No.”

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  “No,” she panted, thrashing her head.

  He rewarded her with a sharp sting against her inner thigh, following by a smooth caress. “Tell me the truth.”

  “Yes,” she breathed as the pain subsided. Alistair was right — it was nothing like the abuse she’d experienced. This was … everything.

  His fingers plunged into her again, forcing a moan. Her back arched when his thumb found her clit, pressing hard. Have to come … going to come … have to.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, yes!”

  “Nuh-uh. Not until you say it.” He removed his fingers, lifting his mouth from her breast. Now, he wasn’t touching her anywhere, and she needed him. He softly caressed her face, and then, removed the blindfold. “Open your eyes, Jayla. I want you to see yourself how I see you.”

  Her eyes creaked open, taking a deep breath as she took herself in. Skin pink, nipples swollen, her body stretched over the bed. Between her legs, she could see her thighs glistening, a combination of his mouth, and her own arousal.

  Looking up, she couldn’t help her gaze from turning to him. He was leaning over her, face flushed as well, his lips, swollen from the suction against her.

  His gaze bore into hers — the shadows of the candles flickering around the room glowing within the rich chocolate color, making them appear as darkened flames, ignited for her alone. The tension of his shoulders and forearms, the sinewy muscles bulging under his shirt, was made all the more apparent by his rapid breathing. The lines on his face were sharp, his jaw clenched, as if it was taking every ounce of control not to give in to her as well. He looked desperate, crazed, to get her off. He needed to hear the word.

  How could she not give him what he wanted?

  “Please, Sir,” she begged.

  “Finally,” he growled. His mouth found her nipple once again, growling against it as he nipped. The pain ebbed as his finger found its way back inside of her. He kissed back down her body, placing his mouth around her clit and sucking gently. He twirled his tongue around her as his fingers pushed against the spot on her inner wall, rubbing with determination.