Against one corner was a stack of cube and ramp-shaped cushions in different sizes that caused a wealth of ideas for their use to sweep through Carmen’s mind. She closed her eyes and envisioned herself draped over the largest one as Carl pounded into her from behind. The brief fantasy made her breathing unsteady.
As if privy to her seductive thoughts, he squirmed on the chair, tugging on the bonds and making the chair creak. He didn’t speak, though, and she suspected he couldn’t as long as the hood remained in place. But he could hear; that was obvious when he stilled and turned his head toward her as she approached him.
From a short distance, Carmen inspected the ropes that bound him and discovered they appeared secure—no secret switches to enable his release, as he had in his usual cuffs.
“Are you comfortable?” she asked.
He squirmed his hips, which drew her gaze to his crotch and brought a smile to her face. She bit back the giggle though, since his erection made it obvious he wasn’t at all comfortable inside those snug jeans. She’d been thinking not of that when she asked the question, but rather him having to sit straight up in that chair. It appeared the chair was the least of his concerns.
She worried her bottom lip before asking the next question. “Do you want me to release you?”
No pause. He nodded.
A tear came to one eye. He didn’t want to be here...with her? “You want this to end? Do you want to use your safe word?”
A quick, fierce shake of his head.
Oh. She swiped at the tear and took a steadying breath. “What if I don’t want to release you? What if I want to enjoy the feel of your body...your warm, hard muscles...under my hand?” As she spoke, she ran her hand up his thigh from knee to just short of where his cock pressed against the fabric. The closer she drew to his crotch, the warmer his body felt beneath her hand.
Oh, yes, he was very aroused. She squeezed his thigh. He groaned and lifted his hips toward her touch.
She skipped over where he wanted her to be and instead reached up to trail her fingertips from his shoulders, down his pecs, and over the rippled hills and valleys of six-pack abs. He lifted his hooded face toward the ceiling as if praying for mercy.
After walking around behind him, she reached over his shoulders to stroke his chest, scraped her nails lightly over his taut skin, and heard him hiss. His fingers splayed and fisted while the strong muscles in his arms tensed, bulged.
Bending down, she pressed a kiss to the side of his neck and caught the subtle scent of cologne, a masculine, musky fragrance that made her draw in a deeper breath. She loved his body. Just touching him or the feel of his strong arms encircling her was enough to warm her heart. But she loved more than his body, more than what he could do to her, for her, physically. She wanted to show him the power behind her feelings toward him as a Domme. As a woman.
He’d shown her the true heart of a submissive, loving nature. He’d demonstrated how much he cared for her as a person, so much so that he wanted—genuinely desired—to please her in a multitude of ways. The only thing missing was proof of his trust, evidence of his faith in her ability to provide the same in return.
“I can’t continue,” she murmured in his ear, “until I know for certain that you want this. All of it.” She unfastened the hood and pulled it off his head.
He blinked several times before turning his head to look at her over his shoulder.
“I thought you left,” he said. His voice held a mix of accusation with a touch of sorrow.
So he had missed her. She shook her head as she stepped around to stand at his side. One hand lay on his shoulder. “I never went far, only to the Montgomerys’—”
He shook his head. “I called. I went there, twice, and you didn’t answer.”
Oh, damn. And she’d thought he— “I couldn’t sit there and do nothing. I’ve been out searching for a job so I can live here permanently.”
He looked away. “Oh.”
She turned his head so that he had to look at her once more. “I’m here now.”
“Why?” The question was sharp, the hurt evident. It was a good question and deserving of the truth.
“I want to give us a chance. I can’t guarantee that I won’t make mistakes as a Domme or as a partner, but I sense that we have something special. I’d like to see where it can lead us. The only question now is whether you’re willing to give me what I need to make this...relationship...between us work. Do you want this?” Do you want me?
Chapter Thirteen
His heart screamed for him to say yes, but his mind urged caution. “What is it that you need?”
“The truth. No illusions, no acting. No saying what you think I want to hear.” She tugged on the rope at his elbow, and it came undone. She held it up for him to see. “No fake props with hidden escape switches or easily unraveled binds. And no part‑time commitments.”
No more pretending, he added to himself. This time, everything would be for real, the risk higher but the reward much greater. He glanced from the rope to her face. Her eyes were guarded but sincere.
“I want to give you everything I have to give, Carl. All of the time. I need to know if you’ll do the same? Do you trust me enough to risk your heart? To see where this journey together might lead?”
What did she intend to do to him? Did he dare take the risk? He’d always had Kat there to look out for him, but not this time. They weren’t in one of the voyeur rooms where there were safeguards in place should something go wrong. This time he’d be at the mercy of another for real.
But this was Carmen. His Carmen, the one his soul cried out to call his mistress. He stared into the dark depths of her eyes, saw the raw need she had, the desire to know whether he’d been honest before when he said he believed in her. It was time to put his money where his mouth was or, in this case, his body where his vow was.
Just as he recognized the first signs of doubt cross her face, he nodded and lowered his gaze in a traditional show of respect. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He winced and couldn’t help but look back at her.
“You call Kat that. You’ve no doubt called countless women you’ve met at Incognito that. I don’t want to be lumped in with all of them.”
Understanding her reasons, he again dropped his gaze to the floor and waited.
“The Spanish word for mistress is amante. Have you ever used that term before?”
“No.” Although he recognized the root stemmed from another word in Spanish that held a wealth of emotional meaning...amor. That realization made him want to grin like a fool, but he resisted.
“Good. Then that’s what I would like you to call me, understood?”
Would like... Not a command. A request. His choice. His decision. Damn, he loved her for that. He looked her in the eye when he answered, “Yes, Amante.”
She smiled, and a heavy weight lifted from inside his chest. Although bound, he experienced an emotional release, a sudden high, a sense of relief.
My amante. As the words rooted in his mind, Carl’s heart swelled with so many feelings he thought it might burst.
She hadn’t left him, or she’d come back. Either way, he rejoiced in her presence and wanted to be freed so that he could hug her close and never let her go.
She came around in front of him, slid her skirt up her thighs, and straddled him. He swallowed hard and tried not to move for fear that one lurch of his hips would have him ejaculating inside his pants.
With a casual grin, she draped her arms over his shoulders to encircle his neck and met his gaze. “You’ve taught me so many things about this lifestyle.” She dropped her gaze to his chest and placed a hand over his heart, which responded with a rapid thud. “Thank you.” She leaned forward and pressed a soft, tender kiss to his lips.
He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, the desire to kiss her harder, to take command nearly overwhelming. She didn’t delve into his mouth, though, as he wanted. Instead, she nipp
ed and sucked his bottom lip, then left a trail of sweet kisses along his jaw.
Oh, God.
He let his head fall back and prayed for the strength to submit to whatever she had in store for him. Whoever said subs were weak could fuck off. Sitting motionless while she sat astride him—her pussy grinding against his ready cock, her lips tempting him to insanity—was the hardest thing he’d ever had to face. It took every ounce of willpower in his being to not yank free of his ties, to not take her the way he wanted. To let her have her way.
Just when he thought he couldn’t take any more, she pulled away and stood up. A conflict raged inside him as relief battled with disappointment. Relief that she’d given him a reprieve before he came in his pants. Disappointment that she’d backed away and no longer touched him at all.
“Release yourself from the chair.”
He blinked at her.
She stood with her arms crossed over her ample breasts, her skirt back in place. Only her slightly swollen lips showed signs of the erotic stimulation he’d experienced.
“Come on,” she said. “I know you can. As easily as that one rope fell away from your arm, you can get loose, I’m certain.”
With a sigh, he blindly fumbled with the ties that dangled from his wrists behind him. While he worked on the ropes, she walked over to a stack of geometric bondage cushions and tugged the largest away from the wall. When she placed a spreader bar under the cushion, a lump lodged in his throat.
One arm free, he worked on the rope at his other elbow while continuing to watch her every move. She placed a smaller, triangular cushion at the bottom of the other ramp-like one. Then she turned toward him.
He bent forward and went to work on the cords around his ankles. In another few seconds, he was free from the chair. But when he stood and turned toward her, she trapped him with those captivating eyes. He didn’t move a muscle as she approached him, except for his heart that pounded against his ribcage. It could no more escape his body than he could escape her gaze.
Without breaking eye contact, she offered him a tender smile, and her hands dipped to his belt buckle. A determined flick and a sharp tug later, she had his buckle undone and was pulling the leather strap. As each inch slithered from its loops, he found breathing a virtual impossibility. That changed, however, when she tossed the belt aside and her fingers dipped inside the waistband of his jeans. The top button released, and he sucked in a deep breath between clenched teeth as she tugged his zipper down. His cock bulged against the more flexible material of his cotton briefs, and relief exploded on a sigh.
Her smile became lopsided before she asked, “Feeling better, querido?”
“Oh, yeah,” he murmured and watched her smile brighten to a full-fledged grin.
He had to fist his hands to keep from pulling her into his arms. The urge grew stronger when she stepped away from him.
“Take your boots and pants off.”
He dropped onto the chair and wasted no time. When he stood once more, this time in nothing but his underwear, she eyed him from head to toe. Then, she took her own sweet time removing the last trace of clothes from his body. She ran a fingertip along the elastic waistband, a stroke that tickled at the same time as it tantalized.
What in the hell had he been thinking when he taught her to postpone the inevitable? His thighs tensed. His abs pulled taut. He ground his teeth against the need to scream for her to hurry.
She dipped her thumbs inside. She was killing him. Dead. I’m going to snap in two.
His cock was so hard he hurt with the need to take her, fuck her, and feel her climax around him. Finally, she tugged the briefs down, and he was free. The conditioned air of the room cooled his overheated flesh and offered some respite as he stepped out of his underwear.
“Lie down on that,” she said, pointing to the cushions. “On your back. I want your ass on this end.”
He saw this end meant the highest point of the ramp. He did as told but not without curious hesitation. What exactly did she have planned? When he was in place, his feet planted flat on the floor, she took his hands and bound them, one to each end of the spreader bar that poked out from underneath the cushion on which he lay. A moment later he felt the same tightening around his ankles. She’d attached a second bar to keep his feet spread apart, although he could lift his legs if he wanted. For now, however, he lay still and watched her return to the armoire.
A couple of tugs proved he would not get free from these cuffs. A unique rush of adrenaline raced through his system at that realization. His senses sharpened. He dropped his head back on the smaller cushion, which supported his head and shoulders, and stared at the ceiling.
Candlelight danced with shadows above him while the scent of vanilla teased his nostrils.
He closed his eyes in wonder at how he felt, knowing he was trapped. He’d expected fear and, yes, it simmered beneath the surface, but he also experienced an unfathomable sense of effusion.
Soft footsteps sounded when Carmen returned. By the time he opened his eyes and lifted his head, she’d knelt between his thighs.
“What’s your safe word?”
“Red light.”
She nodded. “I want to take you further than you ever imagined possible, Carl, but you have to trust me completely. Do you know that I would never harm you?”
“Yes...Amante.”
Her smile lit her face and warmed his heart. “You’ve served me even when you weren’t mine. Tonight, I return that service—”
“Amante—”
“Don’t interrupt. A mistress’ number one responsibility is to see to the care and nurturing of her submissive lover. I would be selfish and remiss if all I ever did was order you to fulfill my needs.”
His cock had softened some, but as she spoke and rubbed his thighs, the erection returned full force. Before, he would’ve suspected that she touched him absentmindedly, but somehow he doubted that now. No longer the naïve mistress-in-training, she was all too aware of the effect her touch had on him. He was certain of it.
She reached down a second and then straightened up with a blindfold held aloft in one hand. “Will you trust me with total control of your body?”
“Yes, Amante.”
She surprised him by dropping the blindfold on his stomach and climbing to her feet. Holding his gaze, she began to strip at an excruciatingly slow pace. Carl felt his cock harden more with every inch of silky flesh she revealed. She stopped when she stood between his thighs in nothing but a garter belt, thigh-high stockings, thong and satin bra. The vision of her well-endowed body made his mouth water, his cock throb, and he jerked against the cuffs that secured his hands.
He wanted emancipation now so he could yank her beneath him and power into her warm, tight body until they both collapsed with exhaustion. Instead, she forced him to watch helplessly as she released her long, dark hair from its confines.
“Amante, please. Let me go. Now. I want—”
“No. This night is yours—”
“Then let me loose. I want to love you, make love to you, so bad. I can’t wait anymore.”
“Patience, querido. Isn’t that what you preached to me?”
“Fuck that. I lied.”
She laughed. “I want you to love me, too. But tonight I’m going to make love to you. My way. Understood?”
He dropped his head back on the cushion. “You’re going to kill me.”
She braced a hand beside him and bent over him. “Never. Don’t even say that.”
He blinked at her. “I didn’t mean—” Remorse swelled in him at his ill-chosen words.
“I know what you meant, but I’m telling you I’ll never harm you any more than you would hurt me. But I am determined to push you beyond your comfort zone, to take you where you’ve never dared venture before. If you’ll allow me. If not, you need only say your safe word. Is that clear?”
He stared at her for a long, silent moment and then nodded. He’d be damned before he’d utter his safe word to sto
p her. He didn’t want her to stop. He wanted her to hurry.
She smiled. Her hand cradled his cheek. “I’m nervous, but excited.”
Her sudden remark, issued with such unexpected honesty, made him grin. The innocence with which she admitted her own feelings was the final tug that bound his heart to hers.
“I love you,” he said, the words slipping out as quick and natural as the blink of an eye.
She grinned, but instead of returning his declaration, she slipped the blindfold over his eyes. “Lie back. Relax. And enjoy.”
Darkness surrounded him. Fear, mild but persistent, hovered. Curious anticipation sizzled inside him.
He flinched when he felt along his side the gentle scrape of...a fingernail? Then a flick of that nail over one nipple. Mmm, nice. But he needed her touch several inches lower.
The next sensation was just as abrupt; something cold trickled over his chest. Her hands began to rub in the liquid, and he realized it must be lotion or oil of some kind. He took a deep breath of air and caught a faint, spicy scent. The oil warmed under her touch, and the tender massage made it easy for him to relax further. Her avoidance of his crotch kept his erection from becoming unbearable.
But then something soft pressed against his inner thigh, and he suspected she’d kissed him there. That thought was confirmed when she nipped that same spot with her teeth.
His fingers curled into fists as more nips and licks followed up one leg, then the other. He heard a squirt and pictured her squeezing more oil in her hands. Seconds later she ran her palms over his thighs. Her fingers splayed over his hips, her thumbs so close to his cock that his breath hitched.
Do it!
Warm air swept over his cock and balls as she exhaled. He shifted on the cushion, a slight lift to his hips, a silent plea.
A warm, moist stroke from balls to tip caused his cock to harden and lurch. He moaned and longed for more. Her oil-slick fingers circled and fondled his sac while she repeatedly licked and kissed his length.
He tried to think of something else, anything other than the woman crouched between his bound legs and the pleasure she gave him. But with his eyesight impeded, his other senses focused on the scent of the oil, the sound of her kisses, and the erotic touch of her hands. If she didn’t command him to come soon, he’d succumb anyway and embarrass himself.
Anna Leigh Keaton & Madison Layle - Incognito 06 - Charming Carmen Page 12
