by Flora Dain
After a while I’m gasping for air, quivering all over as my skin tires of sensation, stimulated past bearing.
He pauses, running his hands over my fiery, sweating flanks. ‘How’re you doing? OK?’ His voice is anxious, his tone low and thrilling.
My burning places flare and tingle, one part especially. I lick my lips. ‘Yes, sir,’ I manage. I feel like I’m on fire, but this is only the start.
He stands very close, breathing deep. I feel his erection again as he brushes against me. It’s even hotter now, scorching on the soft, damp skin at my hip.
His voice lowers. ‘Kneel on the mat, head down.’
I do it, holding my breath, and wait. He turns away for a moment and from the corner of my vision I catch a glimpse of his shaft, tall and purplish, and a glint from the wicked little stud clamped in its rim. The thought sends a flame of arousal through me so acute I wonder if I’ll come on the spot.
‘Know what? I think we’ll finish this upstairs.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
In the elevator I lean against him, outwardly weepy and spent, inwardly seething and lustful.
He holds me close and murmurs nonsense into my hair. ‘It’s normal after a session. You’re doing fine. Breathe deep.’
In his room we’re hardly through the door when he falls on my mouth, slamming the door shut by pushing me against it. Our bodies fuse together as his oiled muscles rasp against my still tender softness, his heat searing my tender places, still tingling and eager from constant denial.
My arousal, held off for so long, thuds like a drumbeat. He pushes impatiently, his freed erection and its wicked little stud newly rampant.
I arch to reach him, my skin rippling under his touch as he feels my curves, my tingling breasts and between my legs. His forceful mouth pins me down, his eagerness overwhelming, leaching my will.
All at once he pulls away, exasperated, his erection still hot and bold against my thigh. ‘When can we fix you up with some protection, Ella? I’m so sick of those damned packets.’
I grin against his ear. ‘I already did. Thought I’d surprise you.’
He pulls away and stares down at me. For a moment it’s like Christmas morning dawns in his face. ‘You did? You mean, I can just …’
I laugh softly in his ear and caress his hot, hard length, letting my fingers map his ridges and his silky, rigid contours. ‘Yes. You can just do it. All the way. All the time.’
‘Wow.’ He buries his face in my neck for a moment and then leans up over me, solemn now. ‘Thank you, Ella. Wait till I tell Freda. She was standing by with her special collection. Ridges, fruit flavours – the whole bit.’
‘Freda?’ Slowly I stiffen below him. ‘You mean Freda was there? What, watching?’
He leans up on his hands, smiling. ‘Sure. I asked her to watch.’
A chill sweeps over me. ‘Why?’ Is this some new, unspecified kink? ‘Did I miss something? When did Freda become part of this bargain?’
He’s frowning now, like I’m a small child unable to grasp a simple fact. ‘Level three. Our safety code. The dungeon’s a dangerous place to get carried away. She makes sure we keep within safe limits. Why? What’s the matter?’
I struggle underneath him, sliding my leg out from his.
As he senses my bid for escape he tightens his grip with a frown. ‘What’s up? Where are you going?’
With difficulty I extract myself, rise to my feet and take some deep breaths. ‘I’m going to bed. You could have warned me she was watching. I don’t want people to watch. I’m not a peepshow.’
He’s on his feet now, glaring down at me. ‘You could have warned me we were going commando. I thought couples were supposed to discuss that kind of thing. I asked Freda to watch because I want you to be safe.’
His erection still juts between us, glossy, hot and unsatisfied. I ache to touch it. Instead I steel myself to hold his gaze. ‘You don’t get it, do you, Darnley? I don’t want to be safe because Freda’s watching. I want to be safe because you’re in control.’
I make a dash for the nearest bedroom, slam the door behind me and hurl myself onto the bed, sobbing.
In my misery I pull the cover over me and finally drift into a troubled kind of sleep. I only know it’s that when I wake suddenly in a pool of light. But it’s not yet morning. The light comes from the lamp by the bed.
I stare at it for a moment, puzzled. Surely I switched that off?
‘You awake now?’ Darnley’s sprawled in the armchair facing me. He looks gorgeous, his long legs stretched out, his short black robe a poor cover for his still-rampant manhood.
With an effort I focus on his face. His gaze is chilling.
My stomach shrinks.
Fully awake now, I haul myself upright. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘You are.’ He rises slowly to his feet and walks over to stand beside me.
This close he’s magnificent. He’s freshly showered. His clean, earthy aroma is a heady blend of Darnley and spice.
‘We’re doing this because of the bracelets. We had an agreement.’
‘Sorry. I got a little carried away.’ My welcoming smile freezes.
‘It’s you who doesn’t get it, Ella. You accepted them with the conditions I attached to them. And that means when you wear them, I make the rules.’
His voice is low, his face stern. For a split second I sense a wave of power, the scary inner Wolfe who rose from the ruin of his life to make his millions. He hides it well but all at once it’s shockingly close to the surface.
Slowly he folds his hand around my wrist, circling it with his finger and thumb, squeezing gently. As he does it his robe gapes open, his chest shining firm and golden in the soft light. He looks good enough to eat.
He sits close to me, his eyes dark and keeps his hand firmly in place. ‘I’m not used to having someone this close to me. When we’re together something sparks between us. It scares me sometimes. I may go too far. That’s why I make Freda watch.’
I hold my breath, slipping my hand into his gaping robe and letting my fingers explore the glories of his powerful chest. I massage gently and then kiss his jaw. ‘She’s not watching now, is she?’
I see his jaw clench. ‘In the dungeon, I meant.’
I kiss him again. ‘I know what you meant. But I trust you.’
‘That’s just it. I don’t. I’m a killer, remember.’
I wind my arms around his neck. No, no. You’re not. In my head I’m screaming it, but I daren’t say it out loud. If only I could help him …
I manage a troubled smile. ‘Coming to bed? Free access, don’t forget.’
‘You think I’d forget a thing like that?’ His voice is husky with need, his face full of pain.
Now. I lean over and touch my lips to his breastbone. For a second he holds perfectly still while I sink back onto the pillows with a lazy smile. His eyes gleam. ‘Move over.’
It’s like I’ve lit a fuse. In seconds Darnley’s robe is hurled across the floor. It’s quickly joined by the covers as he rips off the bedclothes.
I was soft and easy with sleep. There’s a sudden rush of cold air on my tender, whip-warmed skin. I’m still dressed like a hooker. Now the fire in his eyes reminds me my slicing thong and the thin leather straps of my scanty bra are not just for decoration.
They’re for discipline.
His mouth fastens on mine as he kneels over me, pinning my arms and forcing me back down. I yield to him eagerly, pulsing already as his thighs straddle me, his rigid muscles rasping against my soft curves as his massive, purplish erection looms in my face, his hooded gaze and his set, rigid jaw hinting at the submission he wants from me first.
‘You broke one of the first rules of the submissive. You never, ever, walk out on your Dom. If he wants relief he gets it, period.’
He stoops to touch his lips once more to mine, this time gentle, unbearably tender, a startling contrast to his stern gaze and his curt command.
‘So now he’s go
ing to get it. Slide out and kneel on the floor facing the bed. Just here.’ He pats the edge of the bed and I slither out, newly aroused and eager to please.
I hastily arrange myself to his satisfaction between his knees, hands at my back, eyes down. At last he tilts up my chin, his gaze troubled. ‘You OK?’
‘Yes, sir,’ I murmur softly, while down below a storm rages between my legs. All my punished places scream out for attention. ‘I’m ready, sir.’
Is this what he wants? Does this ritual of respect heighten things for him? Weirdly, it sends flames through me too. I’m rested and refreshed, but still throbbing, yet to be satisfied.
‘Make it wet,’ he says softly. ‘Make it wet and make it hard. And then maybe we’ll find somewhere to put it.’
I lick his salty richness, tasting the burning silky skin like it’s precious. I swallow him a little way, thrilling to the slight sounds he makes as I do it, his shallow breathing and the rasp of his fingers on the sheet as he grips the mattress.
‘Enough. Now get back up here.’ His quiet commands make me pulse as he directs me to kneel on all fours and grip the bed head. With my thighs wide apart he kneels behind me and stoops to kiss my butt cheeks, first on one side then the other. His lips burn but his breath cools my glowing skin.
All at once I feel his tongue on my splayed places, shamefully open to the air. I shudder again and now his tongue plunges deep, repeatedly searching out my aching, swollen little bud and teasing it without mercy.
I cry out for sheer joy and get a harsh, stinging slap on my rump.
‘Quiet. And keep still. I want to watch this.’
Watch it? He starts to examine me with soft, probing touches of his fingertips and tiny brushes of his lips, trailing light, specific kisses along my most private and hidden places. My swollen, pulsing little folds are already twitching with overload, so excited I can barely feel them.
‘You’re so beautiful down there, Ella. Ripe as a peach.’
I whimper as he kneels up to caress me, his hands cool on my glowing backside.
‘Hush, easy. Hold still. Store the energy.’
His low voice becomes a mantra as I struggle to obey, to reach the nirvana he wants me to find with this weird ritual thing, his voice low and soothing like I’m some nervous animal being tamed.
The throbbing down below is made worse by his slow, patient fingers as he revives all my quivering nerve endings with long, low sweeps of his hands over my tingling, sparkling body. All at once I feel him prod at my opening, his hot shaft a burning, solid reminder of his love and his power.
‘Please, please, this is torture …’
‘I know.’ I hear him laugh softly way overhead and now I feel the heat of his body as he stoops low to kiss the small of my back, pooling with sweat as I struggle to comply with his demands.
‘Is this what you want?’ And all at once, with a blissful surge of heat and muscle, he slams into me, pulls away slowly and thrusts again. I cry out as I jerk against the bedhead, my rigid arms aching now under his onslaught.
He reaches round to feel me where it matters most. With two long, pincer-like fingertips he seizes my hard little nub from behind and squeezes hard. A soft explosion erupts inside me and finally my spasms punch holes in his control. I feel a swell of heat in my belly and we come together in a medley of shrieks from me and grunts from him that end in a cascade of laughter.
Later he curls around me, but as sleep steals over me I feel his breath in my ear.
‘I’m leaving tomorrow.’
I’m already floating, soft and warm, as fluffy contented clouds gather beneath me. ‘Where are you going?’ I murmur, dreamily.
‘Can’t say. I’ll be a while.’ He makes it sound far, far away …
My eyes snap open. ‘How long?’
He nuzzles into my back, his voice muffled. ‘No idea. If you need me call my PA.’
I sit up. ‘Can you at least tell me where you’re going?’
‘No.’
‘Why not? You still won’t trust me?’
He unwinds his arms and flicks on the lamp. All at once I notice how sharp his cheekbones have become, how hollow his jawline. I watch in dismay as he slips out of bed and towers over me, his eyes glittering.
He leans down with one hand on the bedrail, his face close to mine. ‘It’s nothing to do with trust. I’m off-radar because the business I’m pitching is supposed to be secure and the people I’m pitching it to will test all my contacts to see just how secure it is. So no calls, no texts, no café-chat about me to my relatives. That’s how it is. That’s how I work.’
He tilts up my chin and kisses me on the lips in a long, gentle farewell. His brutal tone warned me he’s torn about this. Now his soft, lingering kiss tells me he’d far sooner stay.
Contrite, I kiss him back.
His loving look is ample reward. ‘Now get some sleep.’
In mid-November it turns cold. The pretty part of the fall is over and now the skies turn leaden and fog blows in off the sea. Soon it will snow.
I try to lose myself in work. Afterwards I hang out with friends over a beer and talk cheerful nonsense. I smile as I split the check with Billy in coffee shops and restaurants.
Underneath I’m raw with grief, lonely and aching. My lover is gone, my bed is empty. I’ve no idea when I’ll see him: tomorrow? Next week? Next month? If he’s trying to make me safe it’s the surest way to drive me insane. Without him I’m incomplete.
I prowl his rooms, bury my head in his pillow. It’s all I have left of him – that and the echo of his last words as he left me soft and warm in bed, my breasts and my lips still moist and tingling from his kisses, his last words echoing round my head.
‘It’s safer this way, Ella. You’re all I’ve got.’
One evening I get a call from Dodie, the harassed young mom I first met in the summer at Camp Akela. I ask politely after her husband Joel and enquire about Emily, her frail toddler.
I can almost see Dodie’s tense, anxious face crinkle up with love and freckles as she assures me Emily’s fine.
‘Looks like she’ll see another Christmas, anyway. So that’s a blessing. In this household we don’t look too far ahead. We were wondering – that is, if you’re not going to your family – how you’re placed for Thanksgiving? If you could possibly make it to us we’d love to have you …’
She tails off so shyly my heart softens. I murmur I’ll get back to her.
An hour later I find my parents have a prior invitation they’ve already half-accepted in case I’m doing some high-flying thing with Darnley’s people or my college friends. So I call her back and say I’ll come.
She sounds so pleased I feel tears well up, touched by this kindness in strangers when I need some so badly.
Thanksgiving dawns bright and cold. I’m busy all day but by late afternoon my marking’s finished and it’s time to go. I choose a close-fitting dress with a white Peter Pan collar, neat and prim. To make it more special for evening I pile up my hair and add demure pearl earrings.
Bullen drives me across town to the quiet little suburb where Joel and Dodie live.
Their apartment is small, very clean and filled with the glorious aroma of roasting turkey. I pick my way through the toys still scattered in the hall. Little Emily is settling down for bed and playing happily with a new outsize teddy, still dangling labels. She gives me a cheerful wave as I look in.
Dodie’s pleased with my gifts – a box of her favourite chocolates and an elaborate cake for dessert. She takes my coat, leads me through to the dining room and clears her throat. ‘We have another dinner guest this evening. You’d better say hello while I go fix some drinks.’
As I walk into the small dining room I catch my breath as the other guest turns to greet me. He’s tall, elegantly tailored and stunningly familiar. When our eyes lock his face creases into a faint, sardonic smile of greeting that sends a tremor all through me. Darnley.
Dodie looks from me to him and back aga
in and turns a little pink. ‘He wanted to surprise you.’ She clears her throat. ‘Guess I’ll give you two a minute.’
As the door closes softly behind her I launch myself into his arms. Our hug is brief, our kiss light but full of meaning. As we pull away he slips a finger under the edge of my pristine collar. ‘What’s this? The librarian look?’
I press back a demure smile. ‘I wasn’t expecting to run into the big bad Wolfe.’
He grins. ‘Well, too bad, little Red Riding Hood. You just did.’ His eyelids lower as he tilts up my chin. ‘And just you wait till I get you home.’
Dinner is delicious. Before we eat Dodie bows her head to say grace while Darnley and I gaze at each other over the table, our hearts full. For me it’s more than Thanksgiving, it’s a miracle.
Dodie’s a good cook and she’s gone to town. After lavish helpings of turkey and vegetables she brings in my cake for dessert. Joel’s generous with the wine and we all get merry. I learn that with the Kraik thing looming Joel has offered to represent Lola Forman and, if it comes to it, Darnley.
Later Darnley and Joel go into the study to talk. As they go I strain to catch Joel’s low murmur.
‘The way I see it, the Kraik people must figure Lola Forman’s been put up to this by a rival company. They’re coming down hard for commercial injury so they can flush them out and find out who it is.’
Darnley’s response is low, his tone grim. ‘I heard their sales figures are down.’
Joel’s excited. ‘Exactly. If we’re looking at a corporate battle this could run into millions, last for years. It has to be that. Otherwise Lord only knows what the Kraik people are at. Defamation per se, with the defamed already deceased? A big corporation hounding a penniless kid and his single mom? It makes no sense. Where’s their publicity division, off to the moon? If this ever gets to court the press will go nuts. We’ll wipe them all over the wall …’
As the door closes on Joel’s fighting talk I quake for Darnley. Wiping his past on a wall is the last thing he needs. Not to mention his family.
As I help Dodie clear away she gets confidential. ‘Darnley comes to us every year.’ She looks proud as she stacks the dishes. ‘It’s the only way he’ll let us thank him for everything. He always comes alone. But this year I thought maybe he’d like you here too.’ She tails off shyly. ‘I heard you were having a tough time. I hope I did right.’
