Pointe Noire (The Noire House Book 1)

by Lacie Thorne

  “Your words, Emily. Use your words.”

  Sam’s voice was low and husky, leaving me speechless—exactly the opposite of what he wanted. His hand slipped behind my neck, his fingers gripping me tight as he guided me to my feet, his gaze locked with mine. I felt captured by him, imprisoned by nothing but one hand and his eyes.

  “I admit this lack of speech makes me worry you wouldn’t be able to utter a safeword.” His fingers held me immobile even as I tried to shake my head. “You’ll still need one though. So, what will it be? Choose something personal. I loathe the clichéd stoplight colors.”

  I stammered, trying to get my thoughts together. “Um—fire.”

  Sam frowned, a smile creeping across his face. “Fire?”

  I nodded. “I feel like I’m on fire right now. It’s the only thing my brain can seem to process.”

  He laughed. “Okay, fire it is. How about smoke for when things are getting a bit much for you and you need me to slow down?”

  I smiled and nodded, earning an amused sigh from him. “You need one, too,” I blurted.

  “A safeword?” he asked, all confused now.

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t need one, Emily. You’re the one who’ll be following orders.”

  A shiver ran down my spine—a reaction that did not go unnoticed by Sam. “It’ll make me feel less silly.”

  The smile still stretched his lips as he nodded. “Fine, then to go with the theme you’ve already set, mine will be ashes.”

  “Fire, smoke, and ashes. Almost sounds like a Turner painting.”

  He looked surprised, eyes widening just a little. I expected him to comment, but he didn’t. Sam’s eyes heated, travelling down the curve of my neck, his thumb moving to stroke the column of my throat.

  “Come on, we need to relocate.” He reached down and took my hand. “I’m a lot of things, but exhibitionist isn’t one of them.”

  Only then did I remember about the cameras in the rooms mentioned on my original application. No audio, just video, I reminded myself, pleased Sam had thought about them when my brain failed to work. He led me out of the room and down the hallway, straight into another room. With a flick of his wrist, dim light flooded the space, illuminating a bed in the center of the room.

  Trepidation snuck up on me, but it disappeared the moment Sam stepped in front of me.

  “Relax. Just a taste tonight, Emily. I promise not to do anything you’re not ready for just yet.”

  I nodded, realizing too late that I hadn’t used my words. Before I could try to rectify my mistake, Sam’s lips met mine, his kiss fierce right from the start. I gasped, giving him more access. Strong arms enveloped me, hands moving down my back until they settled at my waist, his fingers digging into my slender build.

  He kissed me harder, tongue twining with mine, as his hands wandered lower at an impossibly slow pace. I pulled away, gasping for air the moment his hands curled over my ass, gently squeezing. If my pulling away upset him, he didn’t show it, his mouth drifting to my neck and paying careful attention to my throat.

  A groan left him as his hands slid lower to the backs of my thighs. His tongue stroked the spot behind my ear—a spot I knew drove many women crazy. I’d never experienced this magical feeling, though it had nothing to do with Sam’s skilled kisses.

  As if realizing he was losing me, he pulled back, eyes even darker than before. Holding my gaze, Sam gripped my thighs and lifted me into his arms, my legs pulled around his hips. My hands had been frozen against his chest, but I dared to let them travel up to circle his shoulders.

  He gifted me with a look of approval, already walking us closer to the bed. My heart was pounding with nerves, but I tried to ignore it as he set me down on the edge of the huge mattress, my back greeting the soft sheets. Sam held himself above me with one arm, the other still at my thigh, running up and down with firm pressure.

  He stared at me for what felt like forever, but was probably only a few minutes. When he moved away, it was to reach up above my head. I tried to follow his actions, but the angle wouldn’t allow me to see much. I caught a flash of black before Sam moved to his knees, holding onto a pair of leather cuffs.

  I swallowed hard, wide eyes glued to the silver buckles.

  “Relax. You mentioned in your file—”

  “I know,” I interrupted before I could think better of it. “It’s just—you know.”

  He gave me a patient smile. “Reality is a little different from fantasy.”

  I nodded. Sam leaned in again and kissed me, much softer and gentler than he had only moments before he produced the cuffs. Once my breathing turned ragged, he pulled away and set about cuffing both of my wrists, the heavy leather a foreign sensation, though not unpleasant.

  “I’ll always use cuffs, Emily,” he said as he clipped the buckles in place. “There are many other forms of restraints, but this is the one I like best. I find ropes to be time-consuming and even the softest ones leave marks.” He shrugged. “Maybe that’s my fault. I don’t have the patience to tie them perfectly, and I tend to get too rough.”

  He sent me a roguish smile, watching me closely for a reaction.

  “Besides, if something were to go wrong, leather cuffs are the fastest way to get you free. And don’t even ask about handcuffs. They’re a fucking vanilla fantasy of kink and completely illogical. Unless they’re lined, the metal can abrade the skin and when they are lined—well, they look ridiculous.”

  My wrists now encased in the leather, Sam clipped them together and pulled them above my head. I closed my eyes as he attached them to the headboard, his fingers trailing down my arms. His lips brushed my forehead, light kisses pressed to my temples before he whispered into my ear.

  “I also like how the leather cuffs grip your wrists. A solid pressure you don’t really get with other types of restraints.” He kissed the shell of my ear, causing my breath to stutter. “What do you think, Emily? Are the cuffs a yes or a no?”

  I nodded and felt him smile against my cheek. Your words, Emily. Use your words. His voice echoed in my head even though he hadn’t said them now. “Yes,” I finally gasped out.

  Sam groaned, the sound so much better when it vibrated right against my ear. One of his hands cupped my neck, stroking it with a light touch as he kissed my jaw. “How do you feel about edging, Emily?”

  A nervous jolt shot through me. “What do you mean?”

  Sam pulled back just enough so that he could meet my gaze, his hand settling at the base of my throat. “Edge play is a form of orgasm control and designed to keep you—the submissive—on edge. Like standing at the end of a cliff but not quite falling over the side. It’s pretty common in these types of relationships.”

  I frowned, trying to understand but failing. He leaned in and kissed my lips, just a light brush, before his hand tightened around my throat. A panicked little yelp left me.

  “How about this? How does this make you feel?”

  “Scared,” the word escaped on a breathy rush.

  “In a good way?” he asked, kissing my chin. I didn’t answer, unsure about what it was I was experiencing. “Focus on the pressure. And remember, if you want me to stop, you can safeword at any time.”

  Sam tightened his grip, not quite cutting off my oxygen supply, but it felt close. He moved his mouth to the spot on my neck just under where his thumb pressed into the flesh. His tongue stroked against my skin, the wet heat distracting me from my struggle to breathe.

  “Breath play is less common,” he whispered. “I suppose due to the skills required by the Dom in order to keep it safe. There’s a specific technique so you don’t actually strangle your partner. And of course the submissive has to trust their Dominant implicitly.”

  His hand tightened further, blocking my airway. My eyes flew wide open, panic setting in full force as I began to struggle. I tugged at the cuffs locked around my wrists, my body wriggling to get free even as Sam trapped me under him. Before I could lose it entirely, Sam let
go, his fingers caressing my throat as I gulped deep breaths.

  He met my gaze, his dark eyes beautiful and scary as I tried to regain my composure.

  “I’d like to work up to that, Emily,” he said. “But I won’t push you into it. This was just a taste, so you know what you’d be getting yourself into. I know what I’m doing though, so you’d never have to truly fear I’d harm you.”

  I wanted to trust him and perhaps I would have if I wasn’t still breathing heavily. Instead, I said nothing—not offering a yes or a no. For now. He seemed to understand, giving me a subtle nod before kissing my lips. It took me a moment to respond, my nerves still somewhat shot. One of his hands wandered, the other holding the majority of his weight off of me.

  He cupped my hip, fingers skimming the expanse of exposed skin—presumably—from my earlier struggles. With his palm flat against the small of my back, Sam pulled me closer, our bodies pressed tight so I felt every hard edge of him. He rocked his hips into the cradle between my thighs with a slow rhythm while his mouth descended on my neck once more.

  As he kissed and licked the column of my throat, I got the distinct impression Sam had a thing for necks—or at least mine. I gasped when he nipped the tender flesh where my neck curved into my shoulder. He eased the sting with another wet stroke of his tongue, his hips rocking into me faster.

  I was already out of my mind when he kissed me harder, sucking my skin into his mouth and grazing it with his teeth. Pain seared the inside of my palms, and I realized I was squeezing my hands into tight fists, my short nails cutting into my hands. I forced myself to flex them, my skin burning.

  “Do you like this?” he asked, panting in my ear. I nodded, unable to form words even though I knew it wouldn’t make him happy. He growled against my shoulder. “Words, Emily.”

  Instead, I cried out as he bit into me, his teeth molding around the curve of my neck and shoulder. “Oh, God!”

  He chuckled in my ear, though I barely registered the sound. “I told you, Sam’s fine.”

  The bad humor was lost on me in that moment, my mind locked on the pain in my shoulder. That was the moment I knew for sure I was kinky. I’d suspected, of course, or I wouldn’t have been there in the first place. But when Sam bit into me and the pain turned me on even more than any of his soft kisses, I knew. Without a doubt, I was not vanilla.

  “Emily? You still with me?”

  My eyes had closed as I panted through the sensations rocking my body. Sam cupped my cheek with the hand that had been at my back, and I missed that touch, sagging against the mattress. When I opened my eyes, he was staring at me with intense brown eyes.

  “You okay?”

  I nodded, then added, “Yes,” before he could remind me.

  He smiled that beautiful, devastating smile. “Good girl.”

  I shivered—literally shivered—and of course, Sam noticed. He seemed to miss nothing, hyper aware of everything I did. He leaned in and nuzzled my neck, kissing the spot that still stung from his bite.

  “You’re so fucking responsive, Emily.” He met my gaze again. “I have to say, I didn’t expect that. At least not yet.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “I like it.”

  A ragged sigh left me, and I licked my lips, earning another low groan from Sam.

  “I’m trying to be good here, but I can’t do that with you licking your lips like that.” He eased away, putting a little distance between us, but not a whole lot. His hand still wandered my hip, moving to trace my belly. He frowned as his fingers ran over the ridges of my ribcage.

  I blushed, aware I didn’t have a body a lot of men wanted. Too skinny and not enough curves.

  Mercifully, he didn’t comment, instead resting his hand between my breasts. I supposed I could be grateful I had a fuller chest than most ballet dancers, but it still didn’t compare to the average cup size of regular women.

  “I don’t share, Emily,” he said. “You should know that right from the start. Some people in this lifestyle get off on it, but I don’t. My jealous streak is far too severe. I will never share you with someone else, nor will I tolerate you playing with someone other than me while we’re together. It’s a deal breaker.”

  I smiled. “It would be for me, too.”

  He relaxed, and I realized he’d tensed above me, as though worried I’d want anyone but him.

  “That goes both ways,” I said. “I won’t share you either.”

  He laughed as his hand moved down the center of my torso. “That’s a given.”

  “Don’t laugh at me. I’m serious.” My voice was hard—stern. His laughter broke off as he stared at me, expression morphing back into a frown. “I’ve had someone cheat on me once before, and I refuse to—”

  He cut me off with a fierce kiss, lips and tongue more demanding than they’d been. His hand trailed down and cupped me through my jeans. I gasped into him, my body bowing beneath his.

  “I want to make you come, Emily. Okay?” He breathed the words across my lips, his hand still working against my pussy. I whimpered as he circled my clit, somehow working me over through a layer of denim.

  I wanted to tell him the truth—wanted to warn him that he may well be disappointed—but I couldn’t focus enough to speak.

  “I know you’re a virgin, but I don’t know what else you’ve done.” His mouth trailed kisses from my mouth to my chest as he spoke. “You’ll tell me—not now, but soon. Right now, I just want you to tell me yes or no.”

  I whimpered again as he pressed harder, keeping the circles tight against my clit.

  “Words, little one. I can see that’s going to be a hard lesson for you.”

  “Yes,” I gasped out on a sharp cry, despite my concerns that I wouldn’t be able to orgasm. That I’d disappoint him when I couldn’t. I needed to know if this time it would be different. If Sam would be different. “Please.”

  He laughed, chest rumbling with the sound. “At least you’re still polite.”

  His other hand—the one that had been holding him above me—now came into play, caressing my shoulder before venturing lower, tugging at the edge of my top. His lips and tongue followed the same path, discovering new skin as he pushed my top and bra out of the way. Sam licked my nipple with the lightest possible stroke.

  I swore I was going to pass out. My breathing had long passed ragged, now entering something much more frantic. I gasped and moaned and cried out when he took a nipple into his mouth and sucked. He pulled on my flesh harder than I thought would have been pleasurable, all while circling my clit with exquisite pressure.

  “Come for me, Emily.” He bit into my nipple, and I jerked against my restraints, the pain melting with the pleasure and setting off the exact response he wanted, much to my shock. He forced me to ride it out, pressing and sucking until I collapsed on the mattress, spent from the first real orgasm I’d ever experienced.

  I was a blubbering mess by the time Sam pulled back to catch my gaze. “You okay?” I nodded, earning a small smile. He reached up with the hand that had just been buried between my legs and touched the corner of my eye. “Then why are you crying?”

  His finger gathered the moisture along my temple and cheek, drawing my attention to the tears. I shook my head, unsure where they’d come from or how to explain what had happened. What it meant.

  Sam sighed, but he drew closer, his tongue licking up the moisture before he kissed my mouth. “Let’s free you. I think that’s enough for one night.”

  He had both cuffs unclipped from the headboard before I found my voice. “But—but what about you?”

  I glanced at the obvious erection under his jeans, as if there was any question as to my meaning. Sam laughed and tugged my arms around his neck, my wrists still cuffed together. I buried my fingers in his hair, the strands softer than I would have imagined.

  “As much as I’d love to have your mouth wrapped around my cock, I didn’t plan for things to go this far. Not tonight. It was supposed to be a taste, Emily.”

  I smiled and
licked my lips. “Well, technically that would be a taste.”

  He groaned, shifting us so I was perched on his lap, my legs around his hips as he knelt on the bed. His mouth found mine again, kissing me hard as he ground his cock between my thighs. I didn’t have a whole lot of experience in these sorts of situations and with a total of two serious boyfriends, I was hardly an expert, but—

  “You feel big.”

  I didn’t mean for the words to leave my lips, especially not on a whimper right into his mouth. Sam settled both hands at my hips, his grip hard, fingers digging into my flesh. He pressed me against him as he rocked up, our jeans becoming very well acquainted. I hated the denim, but was also grateful for the friction it caused.

  One of his hands slid up my back, cupping the nape of my neck in an unrelenting grip. “Don’t worry, little one. I’ll fit.”

  A moan left me, my mind flooded with images, nothing concrete, just erotic flashes before Sam pulled me into the present. He held my head at an angle, tongue stroking up the column of my throat before burying his face in the curve of my shoulder, teeth latching onto my flesh again.

  He bit down, his grip on my hip tightening to still my movements. With a heavy sigh, both his arms encircled my waist, his head resting on my shoulder. We stayed like that for a long while, both panting, chests brushing together.

  When we’d calmed, he released my wrists and straightened us both out, though I was sure my hair was a disheveled mess. Thankfully, I’d had the foresight to leave it loose for a change. I doubted a prim ballet bun would have made it through such a night of activities.

  We stood at the threshold of the room, Sam cupping my cheeks and kissing me softly. He pulled back with a devilish grin and opened the door to lead me down the hallway and the staircase. I was glad Mitchell was missing from the steps, unwilling to be caught looking freshly fucked—well, maybe not technically. Sam held my hand the entire way to my car, kissing me again when we reached it.

  “I think I’m addicted to your lips,” he whispered.

  “You’ll hear no complaints from me.”

  He smiled and pressed one last kiss to my forehead before ushering me into my car. He leaned on the roof and stuck his head through the open window to kiss me one last time.