by Mia Downing
Chapter Fifteen
Tia stared out a window at the big tree with the tire swing, wishing it had some divine advice. She had no idea how to put words to what Jake wanted her to do, because the pain seemed to quickly outgrow the cell she’d build for it. It flooded out, along the pathway in her mind, seeped into her body. Everything seemed to ache, to hurt, and she couldn’t possibly see how giving in would make the pain be any less.
First things first, she finished his hat. She pulled the yarn through the last loop and sewed it closed, tucking in any stray ends, making it perfect for him. If anything, he’d have his hat to remind him of her. She’d have the purse he bought for her.
Tomorrow, she’d kiss him goodbye, and that would be that. She’d grow a set of balls and get Chase to give her a new partner, because she wasn’t stupid. Jake had two faults—he was impulsive and he was stubborn. He would chase her as hard as she ran.
Or better yet, she could go to Europe, take the assignment her old job had offered as an ante up, trying to get her to stay instead of jump over to Chase’s ship. Easy work, a solid identity, a chance for stability. The government knew what she wanted better than she did.
That wasn’t true. Jake seemed to sense exactly what she wanted, and that was dangerous, because what she wanted and what she could live with were two different things. Sure, she wanted cake every day. But who could live with the calories. And Jake was cake. Delicious, sinful, decadent cake that would come back to ruin her life. If she could trust him…no. It wasn’t possible.
She picked up the phone and made other plans. Her old boss, Christian Martin, was thrilled to have her back, enough to offer a pay raise and a sweeter European job. It hurt to say yes, but she did it.
The phone call made, the hat done, she went upstairs and began to make preparations. She showered, shaved everything, did her hair, washed it again when she didn’t like how it looked with gel, washed off the makeup twice and decided to go natural. She’d just sweat it off, anyway. The nightgown was clean, sparkling white, daring her to drop the tough girl act and embrace the sweetness of what Jake wanted from her. She slipped it over her head, trembling as she buttoned the four white buttons at the throat.
Once, she had thought that submitting entirely would mean hardcore kink. Whips, chains, clamps, plugs, ball gags, and canes. But she’d done kink and still wasn’t any closer to giving Jake her soul. The closest she had ever come was during wedding night sex, during stupid, boring missionary position. Who would have thought it?
But then she wondered if it made a difference. If she gave in on her back vanilla-style, would it be any different if she gave in on her knees, with a plug up her ass, her hands wrapped in black bondage tape? She had a sinking suspicion the answer was, probably not.
“You ready?” Jake asked from the doorway, freshly showered from the downstairs bathroom. He wore a crisp white T-shirt and pajama bottoms in navy blue with some sports team logo on them. It surprised her that he’d wear clothes, but maybe he was a little afraid, just like she was.
“I guess.” Tia grabbed the hat and tucked it behind her back, hoping he’d be happy. “Close your eyes, hold out your hands.”
He did as he was told, looking so boyish as he stood before her that she wanted to kiss him instead. But she set the hat gently in his hands and waited.
“It’s done?” He opened them, his expression pleased, his mouth a gentle O as he studied the stitches. He placed it on his head, and it fit perfectly, the blue stripe matching his eyes. “It’s wonderful.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“No, thank you.” He stepped forward, looking so sexy and incredibly stupid in a winter hat in May. But her heart did a little flutter, as if trying to take flight despite the bondage tape that held it captive. Hearts didn’t grow wings, did they? But hers must have, because he kissed her and it fluttered again.
He placed his forehead on hers and held her hands in his, his thumb tracing the ring on her left hand. “So what do you want from me?”
Tia took a deep breath and whispered, “I want wedding sex again.”
His forehead lifted from hers, and he looked at her with surprise. Joy. “Okay.”
“I want to be just plain Sarah in your arms, as you asked. Tia was the name I took when things got tough. When I got tough. I want our lovemaking to be every bit as sweet, pure, and wonderful as it was the first time we did this.”
He released her hand and ran his thumb over her bottom lip, stroking it gently. “And what will you give me?”
Oh, this part would hurt, just as much as wedding vows. She’d never handed over power before. She’d let men steal it, sure. Had allowed it to be taken. But had never given it.
“I promise I will let you to do this,” she whispered. “I promise to moan when it feels good, I promise to scream your name when you demand it. I promise I will tell you when it hurts and when I’m scared like hell.” She trembled because it already hurt like hell, and she was terrified. More than she’d been on the first try.
“I want you to use your safeword when it’s too much. I’ll stop.”
“That’s stupid. It’s vanilla sex. I shouldn’t need one.”
“That’s the tough girl talking. Sarah’s going to need a safeword.” He slid his hands to her waist, looking down at her, smelling of shampoo and soap. Clean, yet with a hint of man that made it his scent. “This is going to be the most intense scene of your life, honey, because it’s real. I am going to make love to you, every inch of you, and I’m hoping when you’re done, you’ll feel like I feel.”
She didn’t want to ask how he felt, because she hoped he was as scared and terrified as she was. Then he kissed her sweetly, his mouth gentle, persuasive, luring her, beckoning to her. She answered, afraid to give in. He kissed harder, and finally, she moaned under his mouth and allowed herself to feel.
Sensation mixed with color in the back of her mind, the pleasure a brilliant purple that sparked a shock in her pussy, her skin tingling a soft yellow in her mind. The love she felt for him tinged in red and pink, and her skin glowed, heated, dampened as his tongue swirled with hers. Green was something else, envy, maybe, that he could feel this much for her and put it in a kiss. Wasn’t that wrong for a man?
Somehow, they ended up on the bed, him between her legs, his pants gone, his cock insistent between her legs, delving into her folds. He slid the nightgown up and off her head, and she was naked in his arms, guiding his head to her breasts to suck her nipples.
His fingers delved into her wet core, stroking her pussy, her clit, thrusting into her damp heat. A jolt of realization that she didn’t want him to be slow or easy shook her. She needed him to be urgent, fast, to claim her quickly as if he couldn’t wait. She couldn’t.
“Slow,” Jake whispered against her breast. “I want to savor what you’re offering.”
How could she be slow? Her lungs seemed to shut down, her breaths coming in short pants as if they only worked on a teaspoon of air. His hands tickled her ribs, spanning her waist. He dropped a kiss on her stomach, right below where her ribcage ended, then slid his tongue upward, over her ribs, along the underside of her breast. She jumped, and when she bit back a moan, he stopped.
“Moan or I’ll punish you.”
She didn’t want punishment, did she? He lapped again, along the same path, and she grabbed the bottom sheet, wrinkling it in her fists.
“Bad, bad girl,” he whispered. “You made a promise. Now you’ll pay.”
She tensed, fear and desire banding together, and her senses heightened as he struggled to the side of the bed. Something touched her side, then tickled. She shrieked and batted his hands away, the pleasure intense. “No tickling!”
“You said you’d moan. If you don’t moan when it feels good, I’ll tickle you. Totally kink, but the house likes it.” He tickled again, the gray feather in his hand one he’d stolen from the duster downstairs.
She smacked his hand, trying not to shriek again. “No one has e
ver tickled me before.”
“Do you like it?” He tried to manage innocence as fingers walked down her stomach, over her bare mound to slide into her slit.
“I don’t think so.” She tried to glare, but he tickled again with the feather hand. The other hand did wicked things to her clit, stroking and teasing that hard nub. Two fingers eased into her pussy, thrusting in time with each feather stroke. This time she allowed the moan to slip from her lips. “I don’t think the house likes it, either.”
“I think you and the house like it more than you want to admit.” He returned his tongue to her breast and rimmed her areola this time, tracing the darkened circle around her nipple. Her lungs seemed to reduce in size again as that wicked path drew closer, the peak hard and sensitive. He blew hot air across the tip, and this time, when she bit her lip in open disobedience, he ran that damned feather up her ribs.
“Nooo,” came out as half moan, half laugh. So shocking that stupid feather would send shivers of desire along her spine, into her tummy, between her thighs to coat his fingers with even more cream.
“No?” He sat up, the bed creaking, and sighed. “Sorry I didn’t please you. I guess I’ll go have a whiskey—”
“No! Quit being an ass. This is supposed to be my darkest fantasy, not a tickle fest.” Only Jake would promise her a dark fantasy and give her…tickling. But maybe he knew exactly what she needed, because a part of her wanted to be naughty so he’d do it again and again. Maybe laughing with him, something she’d done all weekend, would release the Sarah side of her easier.
He wiggled the feather under her breast, where she wanted him to lick, and gave her a wicked laugh. “What would you like me to do to you, Tia?”
“Suck my nipples.”
“I don’t remember how. Or where they are.” He sucked her hipbone. “Here?”
Total ass. But she lov—liked him that way. She smacked him again on the shoulder, then sank her hands into his hair and dragged him up, over, and down until his lips covered the aching peak. “Suck,” she whispered.
He drew the peak in between insistent lips, his tongue joining in to flick and tease, echoing the gentle thrusts his other hand executed, in and out of her slick channel. She sighed and the strain of tension left her body, her muscles becoming pliant and soft like globs of pudding stuck on her bones.
“That’s my girl,” he encouraged. “How much pain?”
How could she take stock of her emotions when his tongue was performing gymnastic movements on her other nipple? And his thrusting fingers tapped out a beat on that squishy bundle of nerves at the top of her channel? But she focused inward and found just the tiniest ache seeping out around the bondage tape on her heart. “Just a little.”
“Good girl. You want some good pain?”
“God, yes.” Anything but the tickling.
His hand withdrew and she wanted to protest until he dragged a bag up off the floor. “I found this store when I was on my mission for Chase. I picked up a few special things, just for you.”
She struggled to sit up but her pudding muscles weren’t lending much support.
Jake gently pressed her back on the bed. “Shh, lay back, baby. I worked hard to get you this relaxed. Just close your eyes and let me surprise you.”
She closed her eyes. The bag rustled, plastic rattled and a chain jingled. Mmm, chains meant clamps, her favorite. She had guessed right because one hand opened her pussy lips and his mouth covered her clit, sucking gently, vibrating it with his tongue. As soon as his mouth lifted, he applied the clamp. She sighed with delight, loving the sting, how he knew exactly what she needed.
“Too much?”
“No, go for more.”
He adjusted the clamp tighter, and this time, she gave him the moan he wanted so desperately.
“That’s my girl. These are nipple and clit combined. I’m lazy. I only want to pull one chain and hit all the high notes at once.” He got to work on her nipples, sucking each in turn, then decorating them with his toys. “So pretty, those pert nipples decked out in silver. I know, I’m breaking the rules. This should be your fantasy. But I know you like them, and I’d picked them up with intent on using them for our wedding night, take two.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. He yanked the chain and all clamped areas sang with the most wonderful, delicious pain ever. An orgasm began to make the slow climb upward, hovering on the rungs of that pleasure ladder deep inside her.
“Since this is your fantasy, I’ll give you choices. I got you a different butt plug, too. We can use that and I’ll fuck your pussy, or a vibrator and I’ll take your ass.” He vibrated the chain with his finger, and she moaned again. “Or we can just go for it without toys, or I can make you come like you are now, with my mouth and hands.”
She’d never had to pick before. He always told her what he wanted or needed or how the scene would play out, as did all men.
Whatever you wish surfaced. Fuck him or die also surfaced, and the two mingled and danced on her tongue. She looked up at him then, his blue eyes turbulent but patient, the cords of his neck taut with lust as he waited for her answer.
So she took a deep breath and gave in, as he wished.
“I want just you,” she whispered. “Plain missionary, like wedding sex night. But I like the clamps. It feels like…us.”
He closed his eyes, seemed to take stock in something, and then opened them with a smile that quirked almost sadly at the corners of his firm lips. Almost too late, she realized what she had said. Us. The ache in her heart swelled from a two to a six in the pain scale, and she swallowed the lump that grew in her throat.
“Kiss me,” he coaxed, leaning in.
She offered her lips. His tasted bittersweet, warm and gentle for the first stroke of his tongue, lusty and hot by the second stroke. Pain echoed with each nibble of his lips, and when he strummed the chain connecting all of her sensitive bits, that pain mixed with the other in a hybrid of damning sensation. She trembled as she slid under him, urging him to take his place, to make them one. How could his skin be so hot, muscles so hard, the brush of his hipbone against hers so erotic?
Reaching between them, she guided his cock to the opening of her pussy, needing him deep inside. Now, before lust burnt her to a crisp. He fluttered above her as her lids slid shut, blocking him out.
“Open your eyes.”
How could she? Eyes were the window to a soul, and he’d see what she felt for him if she did as he requested. He’d see the way into her bound heart and step in to claim the rest of her. There couldn’t be an us.
She bumped her hips upward, angling his cock so he could ram home, but he held back, denying her.
“Open.”
The voice always won. She opened her eyes, and he eased home, her pussy quivering as he stretched her with measured thrusts. Reverence shone in his blue eyes, as if she were his world. His perfection. She moaned, the stab in her chest stronger than any she’d ever felt before. Definitely a twelve, God help her.
“Does it hurt?”
“Oh, God. Yes.” She couldn’t gaze at him any longer. She’d have to believe he loved her if she did.
He held her chin and shook his head, daring her to close them. She obeyed. “Green?”
Lust swirled bright, golden like his skin. She swallowed and panted, her breath suddenly too quick. She wanted to run, but he held her captive with the blue of his eyes, stronger than any bondage tape. And she decided then to give in and allow herself to believe that he loved her. “Green.”
He thrust then, slowly, alternating between sucking each clamped nipple as he loved her, the length of his cock so hard, so deep, her pussy aching. Her heart aching just as hard. She grabbed his ass and drove him deeper, harder, and the pain grew instead of faded. She went to bite back a moan, and he must have felt it because he stilled.
“Give in,” he commanded. He tweaked the chain to her clamps.
The pain intensified, as did the pleasure, and she moaned, welcoming both for a
change. Her legs found his hips, and suddenly, he went from thrusting to pounding, then back to thrusting, so deep her clit clamp was ground on each down stroke, the shock of each bump felt to her toes. Through the pain-filled haze of pleasure, she couldn’t see where her orgasm began. It was there, wasn’t it? Lurking? But then he changed his tempo and kissed her again, holding one hip as he drove harder, faster, his cock demanding.
“Sarah?” He kissed her neck, his breath in her ear, hot, sweet. So sexy to hear the man she loved say her name this one time.
“Yes?”
“Come for me.”
She opened her mouth to say she didn’t know if she could. She didn’t feel anything like that brewing in the thick fog, but it snuck up and rammed into her, harder than his cock, faster than the jets he once flew, her insides shuddering and quaking as if he’d hit Mach one zillion. She whimpered and soared higher, faster, swirling, the only thing keeping her on the bed was his hips pressing her into the bed.
“Come again, Sarah.”
Really? Could she? She wasn’t done with this one. But she went higher, her toes cramping so hard. At the top of pleasure, he opened the door of the plane she soared in and shoved her out into freefall, holding her as she plummeted to Earth, his voice in her ear, urging her, guiding her. She screamed his name, the fall terrifying, because how could she survive something this fast, this hard?
“Give in, Sarah. Give in, honey.”
Could she? Yes, she could love him. And then she calmed as if a parachute had opened on the last contraction inside her core, and she floated, the pleasure blissful, peaceful, all the pain gone. Oh God, this is what Jake had wanted for her. It was divine.
“Jesus, Sarah. I love you,” he groaned in her ear as he came in a flood of wet heat.
Scissors snipped the lines that held her aloft. She hit the ground then, bottoming out under him, the shock, pain, admission of his love too much for her heart to bear. She shuddered, agony so sweet, the torture hot, like a hot brand inside, outside, the bondage tape on her heart wrapping tighter, tighter. Her breath was trapped in her lungs, deep in her chest. She gasped for air that didn’t come, gasped for words that wanted to come, to answer him.
