by Alex Rosa
His mouth is all over mine, bruising and possessive, as if the kiss is a punishment, but oh, how I love the blur that is pleasure and pain when it comes to Nathan Sanders.
“This is what I’m talking about. I need a fucking instruction manual,” he growls against my lips, his tongue dipping into my mouth, taking no prisoners as he devours me.
My frustration transitions back into horny-mess. Especially when his free hand is riding up my thigh. His fingers dig into my flesh when he lifts my leg to wrap around his narrow waist. I groan when I can feel his erection though his jeans at the apex of my thighs.
“You better not be wearing panties,” he scolds.
I attempt to reply, but only a whimper leaves me as I try to keep up with his mouth while still managing to breathe.
I should be worried the valet will return, or that someone new will appear, but I don’t. I don’t care much about anything other than having Nate’s hands and mouth on me. This is when I think he’s rubbing off on me. Pun intended.
“Keep your leg there,” he says, his lips moving up and over my jaw before he nibbles ruthlessly on the lobe of my ear, the nerve ending there connected to the palpitating one between my legs.
My eyes sink closed, savoring the carnal explosion.
For fun, I try to move my arms, but they meet brute resistance.
A small chuff of humid air skims over my neck from Nate’s soft chuckle. “Nuh-uh, Lauren. You aren’t in control when you’re with me, remember?”
His hand on my thigh slides between my legs, meeting slickness.
He groans, nipping at the sensitive skin behind my ear. His hand circles the entrance to my sex. “Looks like someone is a bit fuck-strated.”
“Mm-hm,” I moan, biting my bottom lip.
He dips his finger inside me, his thumb dancing against my clit, but it’s too quick when he pulls out and away, sliding my wetness up and down the most private part of my body. It doesn’t relieve any of the tension I have there, instead causing an almost painful throb to pulse.
“Lauren,” he hums, dipping a finger inside me and removing it again, teasing my clit with annoying finesse, toying with the orgasm that’s ready to appear.
This time I huff out my frustration. “Hm?”
“This is what happens when you piss me off.”
My eyes flicker open, confused by his words, and the confusion only growing when he let’s go of my arms, and peels himself away.
He’s grinning like the smug asshole he’s being. He knows it too when he flashes me that ridiculous, dangerous smile, and nips my lips with a quick kiss before pulling away.
Like days before, he takes the finger that was just some place damp and naughty, and sticks it in his mouth. His eyes never leaving mine.
“I don’t get it. Why did you do that?” I ask, trying not to pant.
“When you frustrate me, I’m going to frustrate you.”
“Is that something I should note about Fahrenheit, or is this a personal tactic?”
I’m smoothing out my dress and shaking out my hair. My body is wound tight. Nate can remove the tension as easily as he can put it there. His flat, annoyed stare says it all.
I can’t stop my mouth. “I’d hate for us to cross that line, because I know how you get when things get too personal.”
I don’t wait for a response, because I don’t want one. Nothing he could say would make sense. Fahrenheit might be a place filled with filthy rich, disgustingly handsome, fetish-freak-a-zoid men, but they’re all bat-shit crazy. I’ve decided.
I move past Nate, and open the damn door. I didn’t know sexual frustration could have levels of purgatory, but it definitely can, and I’m smack dab in the middle of one.
I sense him trailing close, and when I peek behind me, his golden eyes are wide and a little frantic, as if he doesn’t know what to do with me, but feels just as frustrated.
Good.
Before we make it to the podium, he comes up behind me, his hands smooth around either side of my hips, pulling me back against him, and something is poking me in my behind.
He leans down, his lips brushing against my ear as he says, “Asking for someone’s name here isn’t something I’d ever do.”
I yank my head to the left to look him in the eye. “Well, it’s something that I would do. Got it?”
I press a quick, biting kiss on his arrogantly, beautiful mouth. He growls or grumbles. I can’t tell if it’s in annoyance or arousal. It seems the two are riding dangerously close to one another this evening.
“God damn it,” he huffs before pulling away to approach the podium, running a hand through his hair. “Hi, Nina. Reservation, please.”
I can’t look at him. I cross my arms and wander the small lobby, following the trails of neon with my eyes until I feel a playful slap against my ass.
“Ow!” I yelp.
“Let’s go.” He grabs for my hand with less grace than he’s ever had, and yanks me down the hall.
“You’re not playing nice tonight,” I quip.
“Neither are you. C’mon.”
His strides are fast, and with his long legs, I can barely keep up in these heels.
“Please don’t tell me we’re getting into our first argument? We’re almost cute,” I instigate with an overly sweet tone, knowing this is the childish thing I do when I’m frustrated.
I try yanking my hand out of his, but when he feels the resistance, he pulls harder on my arm, swinging me forward.
He flings me against a door in the blue neon hallway we’ve reached, my back pressing into the neon tubing that forms the number on the door. It riles me up more. I open my mouth to shout at him, wondering how I’ve gotten so angry, but his mouth slams against mine again, and my hands claw at his chest, while finding a bruising rhythm against his lips. This time my tongue dips between them, seeking relief in his taste.
“For fucks sake, Lauren,” he groans, kissing me harder, pressing his erection into my stomach, both of his hands sliding under my dress.
“Fuck you, you impersonal prick.”
His chuff of laughter against my mouth has this bizarre way of sparking my smile. His hands curve under my thighs, lifting me off the ground. He presses his hard on against the apex of my thighs.
“Don’t. Laugh. At. Me,” I groan. “And. Don’t. You. Dare. Tease. Me.”
He presses his hips harder against me, pinning my body to the door while his right hand presses a code into the keypad.
When the door swings open, we nearly fall inside. His mouth hasn’t left mine, and I’m too much in a blur to notice much of anything other than all the pressure points on my body that Nate’s coming in contact with.
The door clicks shut, cutting off the hum of heavy metal music from the club. He walks across the room with me wrapped around him like a victory flag. That is until he yanks his mouth from mine and tosses me onto the bed. I note that the sheet colors have changed to match the navy walls, but my head snaps up in anger, remembering myself and my frustration.
“What’s your problem tonight?” I pant.
He’s pacing in front of the bed, and I like how he looks like a frenzied wild animal. I climb onto my knees, and crawl to the edge of the bed, then perch myself on the back of my heels. I brush my fingers through my hair as I watch him. Back and forth, back and forth.
“Nate, I—”
My words get choked off because I’m too distracted with Nate who’s peeling his black leather jacket off, tossing it onto the couch, and then continues to unbutton his white linen shirt. Soon that joins his jacket.
“I didn’t realize it was that easy to get you to stop talking.”
“Well, your naked body is kind of distracting.” I quip.
The right side of his eyebrows and lips twitch upward.
“What?” I ask. “Oh, now you’re the one with weird looks?” I chide, remembering I’m still trying to throw a tantrum on this lush, overly elaborate bed in the sex club we are hidden in. Silly me.
“You. It’s just kind of nice to see you becoming more honest.” He pauses, tapping the thick scruff of his chin before adding. “More unfiltered, the more time we spend with one another.”
I shrug, shifting gears into bashfulness, which wouldn’t be my choice if I could control it. “I don’t warm up to people instantly.”
“I’m aware, but that undeniable personal flare is there.”
My stare turns flat. “You don’t like me?” I shake my head, blinking as if a bug just flew in my eye before I refocus from my blabbering stupidity. “What I mean is, you don’t like my personality?”
He smiles again. My eyes keep dropping to his bare chest and chiseled abs. We really shouldn’t try to have conversations if he’s shirtless. It’s not fair.
“I like it. I’m just having a hard time handling it.”
“You’d rather me be quiet and obedient? You’d prefer me ask questions when I’m allowed, and suck your dick when requested?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re almost cute when you’re angry.”
“Almost?” I quip.
He smiles, and it holds so much behind it. I can tell.
“I’m not a fan of cute,” he replies.
“That’s such a lie!” I shake my head in rebuttal, knowing that, if that were the case, he wouldn’t have approached me in the first place.
He laughs again and again, and I add the stringing sounds to my tallied list of being rewarded with it.
He slinks toward me, and I’d hate to describe it as a lion approaching its prey, but that’s how it feels. I try not to cower.
He chews the inside of his cheek when he makes it to the edge of the bed, putting him in front of me.
“No more names. My turf, my rules.”
“My assignment,” I bite back.
“Aren’t you getting what you want?” He tilts his head to the side, licking his bottom lip.
“Yes,” I reply, but a part of me isn’t sure I mean it.
“Then just let it go.”
Whatever logical plane our situation is operating on, this suggestion rings true. Although, this whole thing is crazy, from my assignment to the sex. If I’m agreeing that those are the only things that matter, then I have to leave my irrational emotion at the door.
I force myself to find comfort in it.
“Don’t think, Lauren. You don’t have to here. Not with me. Not tonight.”
Like magic, I feel better.
“Okay,” I exhale. “Do me a favor.” My eyes flicker up with determination.
“What’s that?”
“Kiss me.”
He doesn’t answer or warn me. He just does as he’s told, reaching for my face without apology, and kisses me as if all he was waiting for was permission.
The pressure of this kiss dissolves my doubt and misplaced feelings, and I focus on how attracted I am to Nate.
I can do no-strings attached, I tell myself. Powered by his lips, why would I want to stop?
He pulls away, still holding my face, his eyes skimming over my features. “Feel better?”
I nod, and he releases me, taking a step back. “Any questions for me tonight?”
He’s giving me my allotted time to get what I want before he gets what he wants. A part of me really appreciates that.
I’m still on my knees, my fingers and palms spread out over each of my thighs. I allow my eyes to glide over Nate’s naked chest before scanning the room, noting that there’s nothing new for me to scrutinize.
“It’s the same room?” I question, feeling this strange pang of disappointment.
“Yes,” he replies. “But it’s still a different lesson.”
“Oh.” I gulp, realizing that I’m out of words for speech, and I don’t have anything to ask tonight. My body and mind are more interested in relieving the lingering tension in my spine and the ravenous throb between my legs that he’s put there. “That’s all I have.”
I wish I could tell him not to smile the way he is right now. Like he’s Dr. Frankenstein, and he’s working on a new creation. There’s a sly giddiness behind the corners of his mouth that I love and hate.
He nods as he steps forward. “Time to get this dress off.”
There’s also something funny about the fact there’s no preamble to getting naked, and a part of me wants to beg for a little foreplay, but I don’t.
I shimmy off the bed, and I try not being nervous as I do it.
Let’s count. I have been on the receiving end of Nate’s orgasm giving twice. I wouldn’t say that makes us best friends, so there’s still a bit of trepidation in giving my body to him, even for a night. I’m anxious and eager.
Once I’m standing, he lifts his hand, pointing and making a circular gesture with his index finger, telling me to turn around. I continue to do as I’m told, giving him my back.
His hands are on me with firm, sure, determination. He moves my hair to the side like the other night, kissing me on my neck a few times before reaching for my zipper. He draws it down, and I shiver.
The dress is pushed over my shoulders and falls to the floor. This time I’m completely naked. There are no panties or bra, and I attempt to calm my erratic breaths.
“Get on the bed, all the way up near the headboard, and on your back.”
His words are iron hot, slicing through me like melting butter.
I slip out of my heels and climb onto the bed, following his directions, but I can’t help covering myself.
Nate gives me the briefest of glances before walking over to shelves that sit in the far right corner of the room. He grabs one item that I can’t identify, placing it in his back pocket before I can see it.
He reaches again, but this time, I hear the sound of clinking chains. My eyes go wide. My heart beats hard in my chest as if it’s trying to make a run for it.
Nate stalks toward me, and I don’t recognize the item in his hand.
Surprising me still, he climbs onto the bed, crawling toward me.
“What are you thinking?” he goads.
I keep trying to look at what he’s holding, and I’m sure my raised brows give me away. “What do you have in your hands?”
He grins like the devil himself. “Put your hands together above your head.”
I don’t hesitate, which I can tell in the spark of his eyes that he loves.
“Do you trust me?” he asks, getting closer, climbing over my body, and I restrain a moan when his legs swing over to straddle me at the stomach.
“Yes,” I reply crisply, “but it doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re crazy.”
“You gotta be crazy to know crazy,” he replies with an innate coolness that has my nerves fading a little. I fight back a smile. “Have you ever been tied up or handcuffed?” he asks.
“You know I haven’t.”
He leans down, hiding a laugh behind his pouting lips to lay a chaste kiss on my mouth before sitting up. “I don’t like to assume things. I’m going to handcuff you.”
He reveals what he’s holding, dangling it in front of my face. Two dark leather cuffs are linked together by a metal chain.
“Oh, did you make a special request tonight?” I say with a little too much sarcasm.
He smiles, as if privy to a secret as he says, “I’m going to make you pay for that smart mouth, you know that, right?”
I consider he means another spanking, and my blood turns molten. I snap my mouth shut.
He leans over, buckling one leather cuff around my wrist, and I like its soft, worn texture against my skin. He loops it through the large metal ring that’s on the headboard. The ring’s purpose becomes clear. He buckles the other cuff on my free wrist. He makes sure that it’s comfortable and secure on each wrist by sticking a finger into each cuff, testing the space.
He sits back to examine his handiwork. “How does that feel?”
What’s the appropriate response here? Can I say, “Kinky as shit?” Probably not.
Instead, I giggle, and with Na
te’s heated stare blazing out of control, I feel the need to explain. “I just— I might’ve wondered while I was having a margarita with my boss if you were ever going to tie me up. It’s a funny coincidence that my Spidey-senses were on par.”
I shake my head, wondering how superheroes are somehow finding a way into my daily life. I tug on the restraints as if to test my super strength. Nope. Definitely still human, and at Batman’s mercy. Luckily, that still makes him human, too. I shake my head double time, knowing I should be embarrassed by the comparisons.
“Well, there’s no escape now,” he jokes.
My lips squirm, fighting a gasp as my head swivels to catch the glimmer in his eye. “I never pegged you as the villain of this scenario.”
He grins, and I see the evildoer hidden in the beautifully lifted corners of his mouth. “I’m sorry, Spidey, but I’m definitely the villain in this comic book.” That’s when he pulls out what’s in his back pocket. A blindfold.
My whole body revs hard. My heart beats overtime, my blood is a thick, pulsing, raging river, and my eyes are wide in panic.
“I won’t be able to see,” I blurt out.
He nods, his lips and eyebrows doing that twitchy thing. “I know. Just trust those Spidey-senses of yours, yeah? You said you trusted me.”
I grin, my frustration transforming into absolute giddiness, and I never knew foreplay could come in nerd talk. This might be my kinda thing.
“I do.” I try to remember that the hero never says this unless she has a plan. I wish I could say I do.
“Then it’s okay. I’d never do anything that I didn’t think you’d enjoy. We’ve done well so far, don’t you think?”
I nod, pulling in a deep breath.
“Remember, you’re not in control here.”
Definitely the villain, and I am most definitely surrendering.
“I know,” I exhale.
He leans back down, slipping the black blindfold over my head, adjusting it over my face and making sure every corner of light is blocked out.
I see nothing, but I hear everything.
Now, I start to feel like Daredevil instead of Spiderman. All my senses are amplified to the 100th degree by my blindness. I can even hear my breathing and the tight gulp that bounces in my throat in surround sound.
