by Lime Craven
I win.
"You could have been a little more subtle," Leo scolds me as I lead her out through the opulent lobby.
"I don't care about subtle." Unless it serves me in some fashion—which subtle rarely does. "I care about getting you alone." I catch her around the waist and pull her closer. Lower my voice so it vibrates against her flesh. "And naked. And spread out."
She wriggles in my grasp. "Aeron."
"I'm going to eat you up. And then I'm going to put you on your belly, and—"
"Sir? Your car is here," the bell boy interrupts.
I turn my gaze to him, his narrow shoulders and fresh young face and cow lick of gelled red hair, and then I run my tongue up crest of Leo's cheekbone. She makes a soft sound of protest, but doesn't exactly shove me off. Our boy doesn't know where to look.
The cab has a privacy screen which I yank across with a shrill creak as soon as I climb in after Leo. Then we're sinking back on the cool leather, Leo reaching for her seat belt and me pulling it away. I've been fighting my unusual proclivities all evening.
The engine buzzes beneath us. We pull out into flickering lights.
Sweetheart, I've been waiting. So patiently. Does she understand what an achievement that is for a creature like me? She wakens strange cravings that will not shut up.
"You smell like cake," I mumble somewhere into her collarbone—one of the few places her strapless dress leaves exposed. Her skin is addictive; how can something so soft be such a hard drug?
She giggles. The champagne has gone to her head, making her voice light and breathy. "And cake turns you on...?"
"You promised to take care of me."
She pushes her fingers through my hair, alighting the nerves of my scalp one at a time. "I think you'll find you put those words in my mouth."
"Well, we both know where that pun's going." I drag her hand down to my cock again, press it closed over the length of me. "On your knees. Before I put you there myself."
To her credit, she moves swiftly—lurches, first, when we turn a sharp corner—but she lands on my lap, her arms around my neck, her groin falling to smother mine and her teeth grasping my bottom lip in a savage mockery of a kiss. The position puts pressure on her healing wound, and she whimpers quietly, her face twitching to a flinch. Sometimes, I think this girl was made for me. They rubbed her with honey in heaven and smoked her to shadows in hell.
A push to her shoulders and she slips down. The cab is full of blotted, disturbed sounds as if we're suddenly under water: the fabric of her dress rustling, my belt buckle clinking, our uneven tide of breath. She has to navigate the bulge of my cock to unzip my pants, and I groan every time she brushes me. I can't cut her here, so I must be a good boy...and this is my reward.
The air hits my cock first, cool and heavy. Then she's leaning over, hair spilling around her face, her breath pouring over my tight, bare skin. A beat, then she glances up to smile at me. To bite her lip.
My hand comes down on the back of her head like a slap. "I'm all out of patience," I say through my teeth.
"Oh." She draws a finger along the length of me, her painted nail making chalky scratches along my shaft. They are the sweetest of aches. "I didn't mean to be naughty." Then she's sucking me into this wet, wet heat, her tongue lashing down like rough velvet, and it's all I can do not to yell.
We don't have long until the cab pulls up at Leo's apartment. God knows, I'm done with being teased and I want her to know how I like it, so I hold her head back with a fistful of hair and fuck up into her mouth, thumping bluntly at the back of her throat. At first, she gags a little, but then the pupils of her black eyes begin to gloss over with familiar desire. Half of me wants to put my head back and just let go; the other half can't tear his eyes from the sight before him, the thick cock disappearing into the painted, swollen mouth of this dirty girl while street lights cut through the dark in strobes. She has me soaked in saliva to ease traction, and I glide in and out, over and over, shining and throbbing and almost red raw. The last time I was this hard, I had my tongue shoved so far inside her that I was nose deep in clit.
I don't care that I come quickly. This is what happens when I'm denied my Leo for several days, and I won't apologise or make excuses. I just want further down her throat, to be sucked harder; she knows, and she submits. The muscles of my thighs tighten, and then the tension turns to electric, liquid heat. Her mouth is excruciating pleasure. It's all I know.
When I come, I hold her head down and spasm on the back of her tongue, cursing quietly. She makes soft, encouraging sounds that ripple along my sensitive shaft, saliva soaking into the scratches and warm breath clouding against my pubic bone. We come down together, me still gasping and Leo trying to breathe and swallow around my still-hard cock. I don't want to let her up yet...but then the car stops.
Leo pulls off and gives me those big, black eyes as she wipes her sticky mouth with the back of her hand. Faint smudges of lipstick feather around her lip line; it's obvious that we've been bad back her. I love that she's already tainted with it, already marked.
Earlier this evening, I got ready at Leo's. It meant I could watch her dress and groom—which was the most painfully intimate tease—and that I could leave a bag. Though the scalpel remains on her bedside table, presented in its box like any other lover's token, I need my kit for...repairs.
Back in the apartment, I put in the alarm code while Leo dumps her keys.
"You want a drink?" she asks, kicking off her heels before padding toward the kitchen.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"
"The fridge. Is that okay?"
I grin at her. More and more, I find intrigue in the shadowy swamp between force and submission. The between. And here she comes, walking right into it, her breasts pushed high in her fitted gown and her lips still plump from giving head. She stills before me, reaching up to play with my silk tie.
"Did you have other plans?" she asks.
"I told you as much in the hotel lobby."
She slips her arms around my waist. "Ah. I see."
"Go take your clothes off," I whisper into her ear. "On the bed, on your front."
"Can I ask why?"
"No." I nip at her top lip. Balm the bite with a kiss. "Because you already know."
She stiffens a little. "Ah, I—"
"Mmm. Did I find a virginity you haven't lost yet?"
"If anyone's going to find one, I suppose it'll be you."
"This is true." I bring my hands up to cup her face, and push another firm kiss to her mouth. "Now go do what you're told. When I come in, I want that glorious ass up in the air for me. Everything between your legs on display. Have I made myself clear?"
She mews into my mouth, the softest sound of surrender; I love that the champagne has made her so pliable. If I want to find her fight, I'll have to push her boundaries. And I have a few in mind.
With Leo dispatched to the bedroom, I head to the kitchen and crack open a beer, which I raise in a gesture of cheers at the new camera on the side of the wall cabinet. My little lion, obedient as she is, is still paranoid about something—what, I don't know. But now isn't the time.
After a couple mouthfuls of beer, I take my time in the bathroom, undressing as if it were any other night. By the time I'm ready to come find her, my cock is heavy with the pulse of blood and it alone leads the way.
Leo hasn't switched her lamp on, leaving the bed soaked in shadows from the pale light of the hall. She lies on all fours, bared and beautiful, her high, full buttocks slightly split. They taper down to the shining pink of her pussy, her spread thighs, and between those I see her full breasts as they hang down to graze her forearms. Her head is buried in a pillow, golden hair splayed like a syrupy halo. Goosebumps ripple along the buttery tan of her skin.
"If I could get away with it," I tell her as I climb on to the bed, "I'd keep you like this all the time."
She giggles into the pillow.
I press my palm to her smooth, su
pple ass cheek. "I'm serious though. Maybe one of these days after the launch, I'll put you on a long vacation, tie you up..." I score a fingernail down the side of her ass and watch the flesh turn white in my wake. "Carve my name right here and then leave you naked to heal. Feed you grapes and shit." I finish with a flat spank that rings out around the room.
No words. But she shudders, instinctively trying to close her thighs. I scoop them back open.
"Oh, I'd take care of you. But you wouldn't be able to sit down, would you, sweetheart? You'd be forced to stay like this until you were all better."
It's true that I have to consider where I'll cut her, which is arousing and irritating all at once. The notion grates on my impulsive nature, yet the thought of cutting Leo at all gets me harder than rock.
I lean over to grab the scalpel box from the bedside table. It sits on its black tissue paper, freshly cleaned and sharp as before. I lay the box on the outer side of her calf, just so she knows it's there. Then I bring a hand up her thigh to press over the dressing.
"Does it still hurt?" I ask.
"A little," she mumbles.
I dressed it again for her yesterday; she sat spread-eagle on my desk at work while I peeled off the gauze to inspect the damage. The butterfly stitches came off one by one, and then I stroked on more ointment, careful not to break the knitted scab. I need Leo to heal clean for my little hobby to stay the distance; I paid less attention to Rachel, and that was a mistake.
"Where shall we go this time, huh?" I bend, rubbing my nose along her buttock before my teeth sink in. "Where..." Kisses, trailing down to the back of her thigh, "am I going to cut my angel tonight, huh?"
She knows I won't tell. It's all part of the ceremony. I like the way it pulls the thread between us tighter, how it threatens to snap at any second.
Now I walk my fingers around to her pussy. I know she's wet—I can fucking smell her—but feeling it all hot and cool at the same time, it's something else. Those last few days when summer segues into autumn, dewy grass and melted mornings and humid air; they come alive between her legs.
Leontine Reeves was made for me. She's my dark magnet. My favourite sin. Look at the evidence, the mess of her slick in my palm; look at the way she trembles when I trail her wetness up to rub over the pucker of her asshole. Listen to her yelp when I circle there—the place no man has been.
"I'm going to like it in here," I murmur, dropping my free hand to tease her clit. She whimpers, pushing her face further into the pillow and her ass further into the air. "Are you going to let me in?"
"Do you care?"
I laugh then, and each heave stings the taut muscles of my belly. "Yes."
"Huh."
"Doesn't mean I'll listen, but that doesn't take away from the fact that I..." I make a C shape with my lower hand; my thumb slides easily into her pussy while my fingers massage her clit. "...Care." With that, I push a finger through the hard ring of her asshole.
Leo swallows mouthfuls of pillow, her whimpers muffled by the red silk. I pinch my thumb and fingers together, pushing down through her flesh to the pebble of her clit. She likes this; it makes her writhe and yelp. Subdued little curses start to float up from beneath her messy hair.
She's tight at the back. Hot and untried. I take my time, stroking her clit, rubbing her pussy until she starts to twist back on to me, unintentionally working my finger further her into her ass. The longer we go at it, the more her skin starts to blur before me and patterns appear, split and oozing. They sing to me. How I suffer for my art.
I used to imagine Leo like this when I touched myself. Now here she is, bucking slowly into my hands and moaning like an answered prayer. When she tells me she's close, I'm grinning, my cock rubbing up against the back-and-forth of her beautiful ass. I've slathered her with pre-cum and it dries in messy trails. My little lion is not impressed when I pull my hand away—she scolds me, swears, begs and writhes. But then I'm sinking into her, my finger still stroking inside her ass. Fuck. Fuck.
"Aeron..." Her voice is a breathy wail of warning. "Please."
"Please what?" I pant.
"Fuck me."
I do not refuse.
She comes quickly, slapping at the sheets, her ass snapping at my finger's firm intrusion. I pause. Pull deep lungfuls of air from the room's heavy atmosphere. For the next part, I need a little control—at least to begin with.
"Ow," she croons as I pull away, leaving her empty everywhere. Untouched.
"I need you to do something for me, sweetheart." I grope around for the scalpel box. Fish it out.
She hears the rustle of tissue paper; it makes her thighs pull tight. "O-okay."
"The next few minutes will hurt, but I need you to keep still." I smooth a palm across her left buttock—the one closest to her heart. Ha. "Very still."
Silence. She absorbs this, shivers again, accepts with the slightest of nods. It's not trust or submission; it's more than that. Something greater. Ownership. The ultimate monogamy: I am the first and only man who will ever do this to her. She'll never allow another, no matter what else transpires.
There are things you wait for with baited breath, never imagining they will come to you. A man like me waits for so little, but this...it is the moment she and I were always meant to have.
I push my wet cock down the valley of her buttocks to find her opening. Although primed with my finger and the release of orgasm, she's still narrow here, fragile. So warm—I shudder, sailing along the sticky paths of her skin. Up, down...in.
A faded echo of a sob rushes up from Leo's pillow.
"Hold still," I say quietly.
It's all in the angle. I follow the line of her hips, pushing down toward her coccyx while she gradually, gradually gives. Pussies can be tight, though there's something liquid about the feel of them; like lying on a waterbed, the flesh submits before it pulls tight. An ass, however...it's like the sucking end of a fist. I feel everything, and though Leo's body tries to push me out, my gasps of pleasure serve to calm her somewhat. There will be no words of encouragement from me here; this is something she must learn to take. A more considerate man might have lubricated her first, I suppose, but then it's my turn to be selfish, and we both know I can do so much worse.
When I'm shoved all the way down, all the way in, I freeze to take in the sight of her—bent, helpless, full. Then I rub along the tops of her buttocks, the thickening just below her waist where that glorious heart-shaped ass begins. Here, I think, on the left; for this is where we begin, too.
The edge of the scalpel has not been lodged in my hand, so when it hits her skin, it's cool. She whimpers. I'm quick this time, savouring the quick parting of skin with each skim of the blade.
"Fuck," she hisses. "Aeron—"
"Stay still." I hold her in place with one hand, working quickly with another. A small heart takes shape at the top of her buttock, its red lines already weeping loose beads of crimson. Her asshole works over my cock with every new cut, trembling and pulling despite her lack of movement, and when I'm done, I bend to kiss the flesh surrounding her new two-inch would.
"It's beautiful." I blow softly over the shallow bleed of it, pushing blood out into pale scarlet feathers.
She just wails again, and there's a resigned despair to her tone, as if she couldn't pull away from me if she tried. Something keeps her here. Makes her stay.
"I'm going to fuck you now," I whisper, my empty hands firm on her ass cheeks, splaying them for my viewing pleasure. "I'm going to fuck you and you're going to take it all, aren't you, sweetheart?"
Her blond head bobs in a silent nod.
Then I begin to move, and it is the end of all silences.
A wound is like a forbidden woman. You can't fuck a wound, but you can agitate it, provoke it. Get it sopping in its own juices, watch it grow bigger in its own mess. It's the most exquisite thing to watch Leo's heart pull open while I thrust into her ass. Rivulets of blood sink down between her buttocks to coat my cock.
My
orgasm doesn't build as much as it rockets. More forceplay than foreplay, a pleasure I can barely contain. Fine hairs stand up on my body, the back of my neck, along my forearms. She finds rhythm in her protests, a desperate and disbelieving fuck, fuck, fuck punching holes in the air. When I come, it lasts longer than I can remember—this endless stream of heavy pulses, working along the tendons of my inner thighs to rush through my cock in bursts of electric ache. She's dripping when I withdraw—it fucking bubbles out of her—and as soon as I'm out, she sags down, every breath a sharp gasp.
I collapse beside her on the pillows. The whole bed shakes.
A minute elapses before we speak.
"I'm fine, by the way," she says finally, peering at me from beneath her mussed-up hair.
"No you're not. You're bleeding."
"I can barely feel it." She goes to feel her buttock, but I yank her hand up instead and kiss her fingers with sloppy disgrace.
"It's the adrenaline. You'll come down in a little while."
"I feel drunk," she says quietly.
I grin. Suck her pretty, painted thumb with its perfect pink nail. "You are, a little."
"It's more than that though. The champagne wore off. I..." She runs her thumb along the inside of my bottom lip, feeling for the remains of stitches. "It's like a chemical thing."
"You were afraid."
"Yeah."
"You didn't know how far I'd go."
"It's called edgeplay. I Googled it." She says this as if she ought to be ashamed, but hasn't fallen off that particular precipice.
Jesus, the things people would find if they checked our collective internet histories. SilentWitn3ss would be the least of our worries.
"I don't give a fuck what it's called. I just want us to stay there."
She begins to chuckle, and then puts on a voice full of mock foreboding. "On the...edge?"
"Fuck off." I lean over, find her mouth. Tangle my fingers in her honey hair while I kiss her. "I should clean you up."
She eases away, heading up. "One sec. I just want to....ahh." She winces, slowing her retreat.
