Pointe Noire (The Noire House Book 1)

by Lacie Thorne

  I sucked in a breath, then let it out on a grunt as he flipped me over, the slack in my wrist cuffs twisting with the move. He shifted me onto my knees, head down and ass up in the air, and pushed my legs far apart, enough that they edged on discomfort. Seconds later, a metallic clink came from behind me, and Sam gripped one ankle.

  I stared over my shoulder as he attached my pointe shoe cuff to a strap from under the bed. While he moved to my other ankle, I tugged at the restraint. I could shift my knees, but with the tight hold on my ankle, there was no way I’d be able to close my legs. I breathed through the sensations flooding my body, trying to find a way to process what I was feeling.

  He’d secured me to the bed with three little straps, and I was stuck. Held in place even without his hands on me. I panted, breathing choppy and making my head fuzzy.

  Sam reached under the pillow again, but I couldn’t tell what was in his hand this time. He leaned closer, hands disappearing beneath my torso while I tried to twist so I could see what the hell he was doing. He attached a little silver ball to the clamp on one nipple—a weight of some kind—that caused the device to tighten and pull as it dangled, swaying just beneath my breast.

  I gasped. “Sam. I—I can’t. It hurts.”

  “I know.” He ran his fingers down my back and gave my ass a quick, hard slap. “But you can take it. I won’t leave them on too long.”

  While I struggled to breathe through the searing ache, he moved to the other side of the bed, applying another weighted ball to my other nipple. I cried out, arching my back and tugging on my restraints, but it just made the balls sway, increasing the pull on my nipples. “Sam, please.”

  “Are you using your safeword?” he asked, not touching me, not moving from beside the bed as he waited for my answer.

  I considered it. The intense grip on my nipples grew with every breath. But beyond that, my pussy throbbed. I was in pain, but I was also more turned on than I could ever remember. Besides, if I used my safeword, he’d stop. And, I admitted to myself, I didn’t want him to stop.

  “No,” I finally whispered into the mattress even as tears formed in my eyes.

  “Good girl.”

  The compliment went straight to my pussy, momentarily sending pure pleasure through my body, the pain vanishing for those short seconds. Sam knelt behind me and caressed one ass cheek. It felt so good I leaned into the touch. The next second, his palm cracked into my ass, the sting sharp and sudden, so different from the soft strokes he’d just given me. He slapped the other cheek with his palm, then fiddled with his belt buckle.

  “Oh, God,” I moaned, sinking my teeth into the mattress.

  The leather met my skin with a resounding snap over and over, until I was a writhing mess on the bed, jerking my legs hard enough the leather straps around my ankles would likely leave marks. Each blow jolted my body and pulled on the nipple clamps, making them burn hotter with every passing second.

  It felt like forever before he stopped, tossing the belt to the floor with a clatter. His hand dove straight between my legs. I was wetter than I expected I could be from a spanking, his fingers slipping over my pussy with ease as he toyed with my clit. He gripped my hip, one finger slipping inside me in a slow stroke. I stretched out my fingers and pointed my toes at the need spreading from my very center.

  Sam pulled his finger out, then pushed it back in, slow but with more force. He did it again and again, harder with every stroke. Then he added a second finger, my pussy gripping him tighter. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, but Sam trailed his free hand up my spine in a soothing gesture.

  “It’s okay. Let it out, Emily. Don’t hold back on me.”

  I panted as he scissored his fingers inside me, stretching my inner muscles. All the while his other hand soothed, massaging up and down my spine. Sam added a third finger with a searing stretch of my pussy as he thrust deeper. If he had to work this hard to get three fingers into me, how the hell would his cock fit?

  His fingers left me, and he made fast work of freeing my ankles before he twisted me onto my back. “Still okay?” he whispered, moving to the end of the bed.

  “Yes.” My voice was more air than anything else, but he understood.

  He shed his clothes, baring his gorgeous, bronzed skin, cock standing hard and proud. He stroked a palm down his erection, gaze travelling up and down my body. The silver weights dangled at my sides, tickling me even as they continued to pull on my nipples, a constant pressure I couldn’t escape.

  Sam grinned and climbed onto the bed, skimming his mouth along the length of my body, stubble chafing gently at my skin. When he reached my navel, he stared up at me from across my torso. “Spread your legs.”

  I didn’t think I’d survive his mouth on my pussy right then, but I slowly eased my legs apart.

  Not enough.

  “Wider,” Sam growled.

  I swallowed hard, and did as he said. When he still wasn’t happy, Sam pressed his palms to my inner thighs and pushed them impossibly wide. I was glad my dancer’s body allowed my muscles to comply because I doubted they’d cope otherwise.

  Sam kissed a line all the way to the pointe shoe cuffs, leaving a damp trail on my leg to cool as the air hit it. I shivered. He gripped my calf in one hand and reached for a restraint from under the far corner of the bed, snapping it around the D-ring of my pointe shoes and locking my leg in place. He sent me a playful grin as he moved to my other leg, skimming a wet kiss all the way down to the cuff before he clipped it to a restraint on the opposite corner.

  “There, that should keep you from wriggling around.”

  He eased over me, hands planted on the bed on either side of my hips. His mouth descended on my pussy, kissing my lips, then lapping at my clit. I tried to arch up into him, but the restraints pinned me. He used the hint of stubble on his chin, grazing it across sensitive skin. “Tell me why you never let your past boyfriends do this.”

  What? He wanted me to talk while he fucked me with his mouth? “Because.”

  “That’s not an answer.” He nipped at my clit. “Try again.”

  Sam moved down, slipping his tongue inside me in one quick thrust. I cried out, unable to form the words he demanded.

  “Tell me, Emily.”

  I panted, wishing he’d just put his cock inside me already. “Because it felt wrong.”

  “You already told me that.” His hand snaked up my torso to pinch a clamped nipple. “Why exactly, Emily?”

  “Because—because it felt too submissive on his part.”

  He stroked his thumb gently over my nipple and licked my clit. “Does this feel submissive to you?”

  “Not when you do it.”

  He groaned and pushed up so he hovered above me, our hips aligned as his mouth met mine. I kissed him back with everything I had, far harder than I thought I’d ever kissed anyone. Sam ground his hard cock against my pussy, driving us both crazy.

  “Please, Sam.”

  He swiftly removed the nipple clamps, and I tipped my head back at the sudden rush of blood returning to the tips of my breasts, hurting even more than the damn clamps themselves. Sam kissed each one, flicking his tongue over the reddened skin, his touch both soothing and painful.

  Sam reached behind my head again, retrieving a condom he rolled on swiftly before fisting his cock. Much as I wanted skin against skin, I’d made sure to get the birth control shot, but it’d be a little while before it took effect. He rubbed the tip against my entrance, nudging into me the tiniest fraction with every gentle stroke.

  “Don’t coddle me,” I reminded him, the same words I’d used the night at The Noire House. “I won’t break so easily. I want you, Sam. Please—”

  He pushed deeper, stretching me, my inner muscles burning as they tried to accommodate him. I didn’t care. I wanted him inside me, as far as he could go. He planted his hands either side my head, hips rocking into the cradle between my thighs. He kept up a slow, intense rhythm, driving me higher into a state of fuzzy bliss.
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  Without warning, he pulled out of me. I whined in protest, but he shifted down to free both my ankles with fast, jerky movements. He eased back over me, slipping his cock into me in one long thrust. I bowed my torso as he gripped both my thighs, wrapped them around his hips, then fell on top of me. One hand held him just above me, while the other stayed on my leg, fingers digging into me.

  Sam leaned down to kiss my nipples, rough chin scratching the sensitive skin of my breasts. He licked and teased the tender peaks, causing them to smart with every stroke of his tongue or graze of his teeth. And yet it only made me wetter, more aroused, even though it hurt. He closed his mouth over one nipple, pulling on it with hard suction.

  I jerked at my bonds, trying to get my hands free to push his mouth away. Or maybe hold him closer. He sank his teeth around my nipple, and I cried out, bucking under him with the flood of heat coursing through my veins.

  “You okay?” he asked, voice gone husky.

  I tried to respond, truly, but the words wouldn’t leave my mouth. Sam pushed into me harder, kneading the meager flesh of my thigh. I closed my eyes on a low moan, tilting my head back.

  “Emily?” When I still didn’t answer, his hand came down on my thigh with a sharp slap. “Answer me.”

  I whimpered, so far gone it was a miracle I even heard him. “Yes.”

  He moved his hand to my neck and squeezed, just the threat of cutting off my oxygen supply. His hips moved faster, pumping into me with hard, hot friction. I gasped when his next thrust ground against my clit, sending sparks all across my nerve endings. Every inch of me trembled, getting ready to shatter like a sheet of glass any second.

  I made soft, desperate sounds with every snap of his hips, too spaced out to be embarrassed by the needy little huffs. Sam held my throat tighter, making me work for every hint of oxygen. My head grew cloudy, spots dancing behind my eyelids like black swans from a Tchaikovsky ballet. I squeezed my thighs around Sam’s hips, mirroring his hand on my neck.

  “Come on, Emily.” He fucked me harder, sinking all the way to the hilt with every forceful thrust. “I want you to come on my cock. I want to feel those tight muscles ripple inside you. Squeezing me like a fucking vise.”

  He moved his hand from beside my head, cinching it around the cuffs locking my wrists together, pressing them down hard. Everything inside me wound tighter, like a rubber band being stretched to its limit, pulled and pulled until the only thing left to do was snap.

  “Fucking hell,” Sam growled into my ear, licking the shell and nipping my lobe. “Come, Emily.”

  Just like that, the rubber band snapped. The shadowy swans took flight. I came with a cry, probably deafening Sam in the process, but I couldn’t hold it back. I shattered into a million pieces. The orgasm rippled through every inch of my body even as Sam stiffened above me, letting out a roar as he climaxed seconds later.

  He collapsed against me, his hand on my throat loosening so I could breathe easily again, but he didn’t let go of my neck. He was still buried inside me, panting into my ear. “Good girl,” he whispered, pressing the softest kiss imaginable against the edge of my jaw.

  I was lost in the afterglow, a numb sort of pleasure spreading through my body. Sam kissed me, his mouth moving carefully over mine as his thumb caressed the column of my throat, from chin to clavicle. He released my wrists, then rubbed the skin to soothe away the marks created by the tight pressure of the cuffs. And my flailing around.

  “I’ll be right back.” He leaned in and kissed my forehead, then climbed off the bed and disappeared out the door.

  I closed my eyes and rolled onto my side, curling my knees up as a little twinge sparked between my legs. Didn’t matter. Sam had given me the best night I could have asked for.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sam

  I woke early, before Emily, and while the last thing I wanted to do was leave her in the studio bed alone, I needed to let Blue out for a bit. As carefully as possible, I slipped from beside her and tugged the blanket up higher to cover her. I put on my discarded boxer briefs, and went downstairs to open the living room doors. Blue strolled into the room, stretched his front legs and stopped at my feet for morning scratches.

  While he went off to take care of business, I did the same and then got his breakfast. I set up the coffee pot ready for later, then promised Blue I’d take him for a run after Emily was awake, hoping he’d forgive me this once. By the time I returned to bed, she’d kicked her way free of the blanket.

  I stared, gaze locked on the mottled bruises covering her ass cheeks, already turning purple and blue. Conflicted emotions twisted behind my ribcage. I loved the sight of her marked ass—my marks—but I hated the thought that I might have hurt her more than she could take.

  Climbing in behind her, I wrapped my arms around her waist and tugged her close, burying my face in her hair. It could have been minutes or hours later when she stirred, waking me as she wriggled her ass against my hardening cock. I groaned, grinding my hips into her before I remembered the bruises. She sighed, muscles relaxing under my hands as she turned her head to smile back at me.

  “Morning,” she whispered, voice hoarse.

  “Hey, sleep okay?”

  She nodded, closing her eyes and snuggling closer into me. I palmed her breast, squeezing gently, and she arched into my hand. I toyed with her nipple, lightly stroking it with my thumb, and earned a sharp gasp as she squirmed.

  “Sore?” I asked, circling the tight bud instead of direct contact. When she didn’t answer, I softly pinched her breast to get her attention. “Your words, Emily.”

  She whimpered. “Just—tender.”

  I suspected it was more than that. My stomach twisted because I’d obviously gone too hard on her last night, when I’d tried to take it easier than I usually did with my subs. I let my hand fall to her belly, fingers brushing her skin as I dipped lower and slid my hand between her legs, cupping her. “What about here?”

  Of course she didn’t answer. Any other day, I’d brush it off on her lack of verbal communication during moments like these, but I needed to know if I’d hurt her. I pulled my hand away, intending to turn her over to face me and somehow get her to open up—just this once—so I’d know if I needed to be even softer on her in future. Anything so I wouldn’t lose her.

  Before my hand lifted more than a couple inches, Emily gripped my wrist, holding me in place. “Please, Sam.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” I kissed her shoulder, right at the curve of her neck where I swore there were little traces of discoloration from my hand. “And I already think you’re in more pain than you’re letting on.”

  I started to move my hand, breaking her hold, but she dug her fingers into my wrist with more force.

  “Okay.” She squeezed her eyes shut, and I got the feeling she was steeling herself to say the words. “Yes, my nipples are more than a little tender. They hurt, mostly when you touch them, but—I like it.”

  The last part was whispered, so quiet I had to strain to hear her. I let her drag my hand back to her breast, guiding me to tease her sensitive nipples.

  “And yes, my pussy hurts.” She laughed, more self-conscious about admitting it than true amusement. “But I like that, too. I liked everything we did last night.”

  I pinched the bud between my fingers, and she let out a low cry, twisting her head to meet my gaze.

  “I loved it.”

  With a growl, I kissed her, hard and demanding, but slow. Intense. My hand travelled down her body, between her legs where I stroked her clit in time with my kiss. When she was wet and ready, I tore off my boxer briefs, gripped her thigh, and lifted her leg so I could push inside her from behind.

  So fucking tight.

  I took her gently—slower than I’d ever fucked anyone in my life—but deeper, more intense, and I suspected that was what people meant when they talked about making love. I still cringed at the frilly phrase, but I understood the distinction for the first time.
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  After I made Emily come once more—trying to make up for denying her all week—we finally left the bed. Much to my delight, she stepped into her lacy black underwear and slipped her arms into my shirt, closing a lone button right at the center of her sternum. We headed downstairs, but I stopped off at my bedroom to grab a pair of sweatpants and a tee.

  I told her to make herself comfortable with a cup of coffee while I took Blue for a quick run, but by the time we got back, she’d cooked up a storm. Brewed coffee mixed with the smoky scent of bacon, with a hint of vanilla-y sweetness.

  I walked into the kitchen as she bent over the dining table to set cutlery next to two plates. A heaped platter of blueberry pancakes sat in the middle, bacon on the side with more fruit, and a bowl of yoghurt. Two glasses of orange juice sat beside empty coffee cups.

  She bit her lip. “I hope you don’t mind I raided your kitchen, but I’m starving.”

  I laughed, reminded we never got to refueling the way I expected. “Of course I don’t mind. It smells amazing.” I wrapped my arms around her, kissing the edge of her jaw. “As do you.”

  She moaned, but angled her neck away from my lips. “Food first. Or you’ll have a fainting sub.”

  I growled. “Can’t have that.”

  The oven timer dinged, and Emily jumped. “Oh, the eggs are done.”

  “In the oven?”

  She glanced at me over her shoulder as she bent to open the oven door, gracing me with a hint of her purpling ass cheeks under my shirt. “You’ve never had cloud eggs?”

  I swallowed my laugh and shook my head. “Nope.”

  “They’re basically baked egg white nests with little yolk centers. All the protein and none of the fat.”

  We devoured the strange cloudy egg nests, roasted tomatoes, and bacon, then gorged on pancakes with fruit, yoghurt, and honey. Emily ate more than I’d ever seen her consume in one sitting, and I couldn’t help the smug grin that spread across my face.

  “What?” she asked around a bite of strawberry.