She hesitated a moment longer. “I can say no anytime I need to, right?”
Isaac nodded. “Do you have a safe word you want to use?”
It had to be something more than stop or wait or no, she knew that. But what could it… “Turtle.”
That settled, she took his hand and let him lead her across the room. While she undressed, he started filling the whirlpool tub. Minutes later the heated oasis was calming her shivering nerves.
Isaac undressed and followed her in. “Will you let me hold you?”
Kennedy nodded.
“Tell me, love. I need to hear the permission from your lips.”
“Really?” She grinned. “Will you always be asking my permission?”
Isaac tweaked the nipple closest to his hand. “Sassy.”
He guided her into the water, settling her between his legs, her back to his chest. A moan escaped her when he cupped the breast he’d tweaked, his thumb caressing the throbbing tip. “No, I won’t always ask once we learn each other’s limits. But tonight it’s what you need.”
She arched her back, pushing her breast tighter into his hand. “Will that take away from the experience for you?”
“Nothing can take away from me having you in my control, Kennedy. Nothing.”
He held her in the heated water, his hands roaming over her body, arousing her, teasing her, erasing any fear that might have lingered in the recesses of her mind. When she stood to step out of the tub, there was no panic, no doubt, just the knowledge that she wanted to try this, and the assurance that, if she used her safe word, Isaac would heed it.
She reached for a towel, but he was there first, grabbing the terry cloth, then using it to dry her skin. She turned to the massage table while he dried himself, the same table she’d been on so many times. Now it loomed large in the room, and her heartbeat sped up as he laid her on it, faceup, and draped a warm sheet over her before turning to do some things she couldn’t see.
The soft sound of rain began to flow from the hidden speakers in the corners of the room. Moments later, Isaac was above her again. “Ready?”
Deep breath. She nodded, then remembered. “Yes.”
Isaac drew the sheet back. The way his gaze went straight to her breasts made them ache, but he didn’t touch more than her arm. “Up.”
When she sat facing him, he picked up a length of black satin ribbon from the table nearby.
“What, no ropes?” she teased, the need to keep the mood light a knot in her throat.
Isaac acknowledged the question with a curve of his lips. “Normally, yes. But I want to lay you down with my knots holding you captive and fuck you until neither one of us can breathe, and I don’t want anything to hinder that.” Holding one end, he trailed the fabric down her breast to the straining nipple stretching to greet him. “This will be softer, better. Still ready?”
She swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
The last word surprised them both. Isaac planted both hands at her hips and leaned forward, his mouth just touching hers. “Say it again.”
She had to close her eyes against the intensity of his, the demand written over every inch of his body. Another deep breath. She didn’t want to play games with this, didn’t want to give Isaac something she didn’t truly mean. Was she truly, absolutely ready to hand control over to him?
Kennedy opened her eyes. “Yes, sir.”
His kiss was hard and rough—and far shorter than she wanted it to be. “Good girl.”
Pleasure lit behind her breastbone.
As he adjusted the cloth between his hands, she could see the determination wash over him, the edge of command reappearing—Isaac was in control of them both. Everything inside her settled. No nerves. No unease. Just a hunger to give him more.
To give him her all.
The realization sent relief flooding through her body.
“Rest your arms at your sides.” Wrapping the silk around her back, he began a series of loops, knots, and rosettes that traveled up the middle of her flat belly. Her arms were forced against her sides, making her breath quicken, but she kept her focus on Isaac’s face, his fierce concentration, the strong, sure touch of his hands. When he reached her collarbone and the end of the ribbon, he tied it off and grabbed another, this time running the lines vertically on either side of each breast, then adding in the horizontals until each mound was contained in a bra-like web, only her straining nipples remaining bare. Isaac blew across them both, forcing them to harden even more.
“Oh God!” Kennedy tried to reach for his head, to pull him closer, urge him to suck her—and couldn’t move. Shock zipped through her, followed closely by a surge of pleasure that left her whimpering.
“Tell me, Ken. Tell me how it feels to be in my ropes.”
“Like…” She swallowed against the dryness in her throat. “Like I need more.” She searched her emotions, the sensations in her body. “Like I can go as crazy and as needy as I want, but I don’t have to be afraid because you’ve got me.”
“I do,” he whispered in her ear. He brought his hands to her breasts and rubbed the rough palms over her distended nipples. “I do have you, no matter what. You don’t have to be afraid.”
She arched into his touch. “Please…”
His palms left her. “When I say so, love. Only when I say.”
That was when the true torture began. Her mouth, ears, neck, shoulders—every inch of bared skin was explored, teased, tormented. He spent long minutes at her breasts, sucking her nipples hard, drawing out every ounce of pleasure until she was writhing on the bed, begging for his cock inside her. Only then did he draw back, much to her dismay.
“I want to clamp these beautiful pink nipples, Kennedy. I want to twist and tease them, pinch them in the prettiest clamps with dangling stones that will pull and tug on them when I can’t. Every thrust inside you will make them bounce and sway, and your nipples will be so sensitive you can come with no more than a breath across them. That’s when you’ll explode around my cock, when even your breasts are mine to control.”
“Yes! God, Isaac, yes,” she whimpered.
Firm hands guided her onto her back on the table. She opened her eyes to see Isaac turned toward his bag, and when he returned, a pair of what looked like dangling earrings were in his hold. Her breath hitched, but she didn’t even consider a no as he attached one clamp to her left nipple, then to her right. A hiss escaped as the pleasure-pain shot through her.
She had barely gotten used to the tight grip when Isaac went to the end of the bed and, grasping her thighs, dragged her down to meet him.
Pain sizzled through her nipples, followed by a hot rush of hunger. Her instinct was to grab them, grab the table, stabilize and protect herself, but there was no helping herself. Everything was in Isaac’s hands—her safety, her need, her comfort. The realization sank further into her mind as Isaac bent her legs until her heels met her upper thighs, tilting her knees out. The position exposed every inch of her private places to him in the dim room.
More black silk, this time for her legs. Having her arms tied was one thing—she could still get away even without the use of her hands. But when her calf and thigh were tied intricately, inescapably together?
“Isaac?”
He stopped what he was doing to lay a heavy palm on her lower belly, pressing firmly. “Look at me, Ken.”
Something about his tone and the sure look in his eyes quieted her panic.
“Do you need a break?”
“I—” She clung to his gaze, his hand on her like a lifeline. “I don’t know.”
He nodded. His palm slid up her belly a bit, tugging on her skin, and a cool hiss of air hit her clit. Isaac circled her tied leg with his other arm and leaned over her, surrounding her. “Feel me close,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”
He dropped his head and placed a soft, wet kiss on the top of her mound, his chin resting against her neatly trimmed pubic hair. “Do you feel me, love? Feel my heat.”
He kissed the plump fold just above her clit. “Feel my pleasure.” The tip of his tongue opened her lips. “Feel my hunger.”
Without warning his mouth surrounded her clit. He licked and sucked, bit, rubbed—she lost track of what he did. All she knew was that the pleasure threatened to shatter her in a way no orgasm had before. She didn’t worry about not being able to move; she reveled in it. If she could have crawled inside him and never let go, she knew in that moment it wouldn’t even be a choice. She’d do whatever he wanted, be whatever he wanted to find this—security, sex, him—again.
“Isaac!”
Just when her climax started to climb, Isaac eased back. “Ken.”
That tone…his breath on her clit. Pleasure quivered through her. “What—”
He licked over her opening. “We are not through yet.”
“Bastard,” she choked out.
The word was more groan than anything, but it had Isaac straightening up. She caught no more than a glimpse of a devilish grin before a hard smack landed on her inner thigh. Kennedy grunted, half pain, half desperate need.
“What did you call me?”
She barely gathered enough thought to manage a, “Sir?”
Isaac traced a fingertip around her clit, being careful not to touch the sensitive bud, then down her labia. Up, around, down. Up, around, down.
Torture.
“Please, Isaac; please.”
“Are you going to be still for me?”
Be still? When her orgasm crouched, a ripple she just knew would become a tsunami? Was he joking?
She met his eyes.
“Be still for me,” he told her, eyes steady and blazing with heat, “and you’ll have me inside you in minutes.”
“Yes.” God, yes. Anything to get him inside her.
Only when he began tying her free leg did she realize how thoroughly he’d distracted her from her fear. His movements were swift, economical now, emphasizing how desperate they both were. By that point Kennedy could care less if she could move; all that mattered was her open core and Isaac’s body so close to hers. She held her breath as he slid on another condom, lined himself up, and forced his way through her swollen folds.
Her climax was immediate—and devastating.
Long moments later she surfaced to the wet sounds of his thrusting into her. Her body felt too full, too sensitive, but when Isaac smiled down at her, the clench in her lower belly said it didn’t matter.
“There’s my girl,” Isaac crooned roughly, each word punctuated by the slap of their bodies coming together. “I want one more, Ken, understand? At least one more.”
One more might kill her. Still, when his thumb pressed to her clit, she moaned and tried to push closer.
She couldn’t. She couldn’t move. The realization sent a gush of heat to her core.
Isaac chuckled. “That’s it.” He reached for the clamp on one breast. “Ready?”
For what?
Another slam to her clit sent the question skittering away. All she had was her answer: “Yes.”
Pain howled through her nipple as the blood rushed back in. When Isaac bent forward to take the abused nub into his mouth, the press against her clit made her hips surge up.
Can’t. Move. Can’t… Oh God.
The second clamp came off, and Kennedy lost herself in the rush of pain, the rise of climax, the pummeling of so much sensation on her senses. Between one breath and the next, she wasn’t just about to climax, she was there, exploding, imploding, registering Isaac’s agonized groan as he let go. Her ears filled with static, her eyes slammed shut, and the force of her orgasm took her over the edge into blissful nothingness.
Chapter Nineteen
Isaac knew exactly where he was—on the beach at the cove where he and Oliver spent most of their summers. What he couldn’t figure out was why. He hadn’t been here in five years. And yet he felt the heat of the sun on his face, smelled the salt in the air. He was here…but where was Oliver?
Shading his eyes, he scanned the length of the beach. There, at the end near the cliffs, he could see his friend’s sandy blond hair. Oliver was headed into the water.
Isaac stood, brushing the sand off his shorts as he jogged toward the cliffs. Oliver was knee-deep now, but when Isaac called out to him, he didn’t stop. Every step took him deeper, farther away, and no matter how hard he ran, Isaac knew he’d never catch his friend. He watched, helpless, as Oliver sank beneath the waves—
Salt water choked him. He gasped instinctively, trying to get air, but more water flooded in instead. Salt stung his eyes and nose and throat, adding to the pain, but no matter how hard he swam, the surface stayed just out of reach. Just…out of…reach…
His body seized, desperate for oxygen. Don’t give in! Don’t give in! But slowly the light of the sun blinked into darkness.
“No!”
He shot up in bed, gasping for air, dragging it into his aching lungs. Holy shit. His chest hurt like a son of a bitch, and he rubbed at it, trying to ease the pain. Trying to figure out where the hell he was and why he felt like he had been thrown into the deep end of a pool with a boulder tied to his—
“Isaac.”
Kennedy. She appeared beside him like magic, only she was real; he knew it this time. Her hand felt warm, her touch steadying him. The light scent of her shampoo filled his nose, and bare skin met his arm.
He forced his eyes open. They were in his bed in the penthouse; Kennedy was as naked as he was. Gripping her hand hard against his chest, he let the memories flood in.
He’d tied her last night.
He’d been dreaming.
Oliver.
He was out of the bed before he’d even realized he was going, staggering toward the balcony doors, lungs too tight to do more than gasp for breath. Opening the curtain revealed the pinkish glow of dawn on the rugged horizon. He’d stood here so many times since he’d come to the Sovereign, and yet, this morning, the peace the view held couldn’t touch the agony in his heart.
Minutes later Kennedy eased up behind him, her cheek settling in the hollow of his spine, her arms coming around to pull his chilled body against the warmth of hers. Their roles were reversed—or maybe not. She was simply giving what she knew he needed, and in that moment he needed her holding him, giving him the strength he didn’t have. Keeping the pieces of him together before they shattered apart.
Hooking his arm over her head, he dragged her in front of him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t.”
She shivered against him. Despite the heat of her body, the air-conditioned room had drawn goose bumps over his skin.
He tried to clear some of the gravel from his voice. “Come back to bed, love.”
She let him lead her, let him tuck her under the covers with him and draw her close. The pile of pillows propped behind him raised him just enough that he could look down into her wide green eyes, see the canvas of pink that dawn painted on her skin. The clock over her shoulder read six a.m. “What’s got you up so early?” After last night they both should’ve slept till noon at least.
She rubbed her cheek into the hollow below his collarbone. “Everything. You. Thinking.”
Alarm jangled his already frayed nerves. “Second thoughts?” He forced his muscles to stay relaxed, not wanting her to realize how desperately he needed her answer.
“No.” Kennedy kept her gaze on her hand above his heart, but one leg settled across his, intertwining them. Reassuring him. “It’s just…a lot to take in.”
He shifted to his side and slid his knee between hers. “Discovering new aspects of ourselves usually is.”
“Mm.”
Snuggled close, her breasts were soft mounds against his chest. She had beautiful breasts, full and round and topped with nipples that turned strawberry-pink when he teased them. Remembering how they looked last night with his clamps, he felt his cock stir.
“You were having a nightmare.”
And…no more
stirring. The darkness of the dream washed over him again; all he could get out was a grunt of agreement. When Kennedy met his eyes, the worry he saw there made his chest ache all over again.
“I’m sorry.” He hooked a runaway strand of fire-red hair with his finger and smoothed it back behind her ear. “That’s not how I intended to wake you up this morning.”
A half-hearted smile tugged at her lips. “Do you… Would it help to talk about it?”
Probably. Not that he wanted to. But then he thought back to last night and the trust Kennedy had shown him.
Leaning back on the pillows, he drew her over him until she sprawled across his chest, needing her grounding him as he ventured back into the darkness. “It was a nightmare.”
She gave him a look, one he imagined sent her subordinates in the office scrambling to please. “I kinda figured that out. Wanna try again?”
How could she make him smile right now? “Watch it, Sassy. You know what happens when your tongue runs away with you.”
“You come?”
He managed to keep his amusement controlled long enough to throw the covers back and land an openhanded slap on her bare ass. Only then, when she was sputtering and rubbing the offended spot, her eyes sparking with promised retribution, did he let the laughter out. Gripping her chin, he consumed her outrage with his kiss.
She flashed him a look when he finally let go. “What happened to Mr. I Don’t Do Morning Kisses?” she asked, keeping her tone carefully neutral. Probably to avoid another spanking.
He hadn’t even hesitated. “It seems like you’re the exception to a lot of my rules, Ken.”
Pleasure softened her eyes, her mouth. “Then talk to me. I want to be here for you as much as you’re here for me. That’s allowed despite the big bad Dom-ness, right?”
“In D/s? Of course it is.” He took the curl that lay on her shoulder between his thumb and finger, rubbing the silky-smooth strands over and over. “And even if there was some rule we had to follow—which there isn’t; BDSM is as individual as the people who practice it—it wouldn’t affect us. Our relationship will be what we make it. So yes, I want you to be here for me too.”
Only for the Moment Page 13
