by Carian Cole
“Open.” His deep voice pierces the silence. I obey and he slides the thick head past my lips. My hungry gaze travels up the length of his body. He looks like a god, looming above me, the flickering candles throwing an orange glow over his broad muscled chest and dancing along his blue-black hair. He pushes his thick shaft further into my mouth, causing me to gag. Pulling out slightly, he allows me to catch my breath before sliding back in, his cock hitting the back of my throat. Relaxing my muscles as much as I can, I suck him farther into my mouth, my head bobbing up and down off the mattress slightly, swirling my tongue over his girth. His grip on my throat heightens the intense sexual and emotional bond I feel growing between us. Everything I thought I knew about sex and making love is derailed as my trust grows for this man who’s got a chokehold on me while I suck him, with my hands bound to his bed by satin ribbons.
His eyes burn with lust as he watches me suck him, his hand moving from his cock to gently caress my cheek, his thumb gliding over my top lip that’s stretched around him. Releasing my throat, he runs that hand down the length of my body and thrusts it between my legs, inserting one, then two fingers inside me. I moan against his cock and suck harder as he fingers me, his thumb rubbing fast circles against my clit. I’m almost there again, squeezing my thighs against his hand, when he pulls his hand away. I pull my mouth from him in wild frustration.
“Oh my God, stop stopping,” I say, breathlessly. Laughing sadistically, he crawls between my legs and lies on top of me, leaning up on his elbows to stare down into my face.
“What’s wrong, baby?” He teases, rubbing his dick against my thigh.
I thrash my head to the side and yank my wrists, wishing I could put my hands on him and pull him into me.
“You’re torturing me!”
“I love to.” His lips come down on mine and he kisses me savagely, winding one hand beneath me to grab my ass and pull me against him. I coil my leg around his and rub against him like a cat.
“It’s mean,” I whine when he lifts his lips from mine.
“You’ll come when I let you,” he murmurs, burying his face into my neck and pressing his shaft against my swollen, waiting folds. He goes up on his knees between my legs and lifts me up, shoving a pillow under my ass. Slowly sliding his long cock into me, his eyes fixate on mine, watching my every reaction. I can’t break away from his hypnotizing gaze. He lifts my black stocking-clad legs up above his head, brings them together, and leans them against his left shoulder, his hand clasping my ankles together. Turning my body slightly, he plunges into me deeper, making me gasp. My fingers clench around the ribbon restraints in fervor as he bucks into me. His hand still wrapped around my ankles, he turns his head and slowly runs his tongue along the arch of my foot. The sensation sends ripples of tiny electric shocks through my body and I start to climax, praying to every God in the universe that he doesn’t stop. As my body trembles and clenches around him he leans down on top of me, my legs still over his shoulder and now pressing against my chest, almost bending me in half, and drives fast, deep and hard into me.
He comes so hard that I actually feel him explode inside me. I lie beneath him as he rocks inside of me slowly for a few minutes, allowing us each to catch our breath, then he rises and gently lays my legs down, pulling off the stockings and rubbing my calves and thighs as I stretch them out. Shit, I thought he was going to snap me at the waist. He unties my hands and rubs my fingers, wrists and arms silently for a few minutes, soothing the sore muscles from being tied in place. I watch him put the ribbons in the nightstand and take out a soft black cloth, which he uses to gently wipe me between my legs.
My head is fuzzy and I feel a bit delirious from the onslaught of everything that is he. Everything about this man is so consuming and powerful that surrendering to it all seems the easiest way to deal with being overwhelmed.
His lips catch mine softly and we kiss in the candlelit room, sweetly. Tenderly. Holding me in his arms, our naked bodies wrapped around each other, he continues to kiss me softly: my lips, my cheeks, my eyelids. This gentle side of him is not something I was expecting and it assaults my heart. I can no longer tell if this is lust or something more happening between us. I’m falling for him.
“You have to tell me your name,” I say softly. I simply can’t go one more day not being able to say his name. He rolls over on top of me, pinning me beneath him.
“I don’t have to tell you anything.” His voice is low and sexy.
Staring up into his eyes, I plead with him silently. I need to hear him say it. I need the honesty of who he is. His dark gaze locks onto mine and I can see the struggle behind it like a tormented storm. I tentatively touch his cheek. Please. Say it. Don’t let everything be a lie.
He takes a deep breath, his chest pressing against mine. “Vandal,” he finally says.
My eyes flutter closed as his name seeps into every pore of my being, the sound of it resonating through me, possessing me. Vandal. Some people are truly cursed by their names, their destiny sealed the moment it’s stamped into the world as who they are. Who they will become. What they will do.
“Wow,” I exclaim. “That’s an interesting name. I’ve never heard it before.”
“Good.” He exhales and holds me tighter. “I want you to sleep with me tonight.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I nod in the dark.
Vandal
My heart stopped when I told her my name, waiting for the recognition, the hatred, and the accusations to follow. Waiting for her to somehow know who I am. I mentally prepared myself for it. I even bought a pack of brand new shiny razor blades on the way home, knowing tonight she would ask my name. I could slice and dice all night after she spewed well-deserved verbal daggers at me and left me here to bleed and hopefully die. It didn’t happen, though. She stayed right here in my arms, sweet and soft.
My heart beat in rhythm with hers against my chest. Maybe this is meant to be. Maybe for once the universe has decided to give me a pass. Maybe the powers that be are finally bored with fucking me.
She lays her head on my chest and stares up at me with those wide, innocent eyes.
“What secrets are you hiding?” she whispers.
I hold her gaze, and I do what I do best. I capture her lips with mine and drag her into that place where desire shadows denial.
“If I tell you, you’ll hate me forever.”
Her breath hitches and she traces her finger down my cheek and presses it softly against my lips.
“Then don’t ever tell me.”
She falls asleep in my arms and I let her stay there. I don’t know how she manages to do it, but I want to break all my rules for her. It’s easy, because all I want is to see her smile and be the one that makes her happy. I want her to love me like she loved Nick.
No.
I want her to love me more than she loved Nick.
***
When I wake up, she’s still in my bed, but she’s curled up on her side facing away from me. I can’t take my eyes off of her beautiful back, the delicate curve of her spine. I run my palm over her pale skin, ideas flowing through my mind like a kaleidoscope. She moans softly while I caress her.
I know what I’m going to do today.
***
She’s eyeing me suspiciously with a grin on her face as she sips her coffee at the table.
“You look strangely happy this morning,” she says. “Should I be worried?”
I grin back at her. “Maybe a little.”
“Will you be leaving again today to not fuck another woman?”
“No, smart-ass. I’m going to spend the day with you.”
Visible pleasure spreads across her face. I finish off my omelet and push the plate away.
“Last night was perfect. You were perfect, Tabi. I could tell you learned some things from your reading.”
Her cheeks redden. “I like when you call me that. And last night … all I can say is wow.” She fingers the rim of her coffee cup and peeks up at
me. “The way you make me feel … and the things you bought for me …”
“Today I have another surprise. I have to go down in the basement for a few minutes to get what I need. While I’m down there, I want you to make the bed and put your gifts back in the guest room. I’ll put them away. I don’t want you in that closet because I have more things in there for you.”
“Okay …”
“I wrote in the journal this morning while you were still sleeping. Please read it while I’m downstairs so you can be ready.”
She frowns. “I didn’t have time to write in it yet, though.”
“That’s alright. You can whenever you want.”
“I really like the journal idea. It’s kinda sweet.”
“Sometimes it might be, sometimes not.”
Downstairs, I find everything I need. I’m glad I store some of my extra supplies here. Once again I’m venturing into taboo territory, but as usual, I just can’t stop myself. I like doing what I’m not supposed to be doing and I especially like doing things I’m not supposed to do to Tabi. Mostly because she likes it, and I like that she likes what we’re not supposed to be doing.
Being bad can be very, very good.
She’s exactly where she should be when I go back upstairs, sitting at the dining room table. I know she sprayed bleach cleaner on the table and all the chairs, as I asked in the journal, because I can smell it.
I open the window to let some air in. “I don’t want you to get a headache from the bleach smell,” I say, then grab Sterling. “I’m going to put him in the bedroom while we do this. I can’t risk him jumping on my stuff or knocking shit over.”
While I’m putting the cat in the guest room, I see the journal has been moved, so I grab it to see if she’s written in it, and she has, right under my entry. I skim through my words and then study hers.
Tabi,
In just a few days, you have become a very bright light in my very dark life. Last night was everything I hoped it would be. I love how you trust me. I don’t think I will ever get enough of you. I can see the change in you already and I hope you see it in yourself. You’ve changed me too. I never had a plan with you, and I still don’t. I like where we’re heading, though.
There’s something I need to do with you and I think you will love it. I hope you will.
Clean the dining room table and the chairs with the spray bleach under the sink. I’ll meet you there.
V
Vandal,
I don’t know what’s happening between us. I didn’t have a plan either—I just wanted to feel again, and not be so numb and lifeless. You’re giving me that. Yes, it’s a lot different than what I was thinking, but I have no regrets. At least not yet.
The bleach sounds scary but I’ll do what you say. I wouldn’t want another a spanking.
Tabi
Grinning, I close the journal. Her snarky comments always make me laugh.
I methodically lay my equipment out on the table as she watches with a slightly horrified look on her face.
“Um, what are we doing, exactly?” she asks.
“I’m going to tattoo you.”
Her eyes go wide and she looks from me, to the gun, to the inkwells and back to me again.
“What? You can’t just tattoo a person. I could get an infection or something. And you need to know how to draw, don’t you? You can’t just start jabbing with that … thing.” She gestures at the gun and looks up at me as if I’ve completely lost my mind.
“Tabi, I’m a tattoo artist. I have been for about ten years. My brother and I own a shop. I can show you the website if you want, and you can see my portfolio. And all this stuff is brand new, totally clean and sterile. I know what I’m doing.”
“Are you serious? You’re a tattoo artist?”
“Yes. A fucking good one, too. People wait months to have me do their ink. You should feel very privileged.”
She’s still staring at all the equipment. “I don’t know. Is it safe to do here?”
“Yes.”
“Will it hurt?”
“No,” I lie. She narrows her eyes at me. “Okay, a little,” I add. “It feels kinda like a bunch of fuckin’ bee stings. Me? I like it. I think it’s therapeutic. Like acupuncture. I like pain.”
“Bee stings?” she repeats. “That sounds painful. And you’re weird.”
“I think you’ll be okay. I’ll be nice and gentle.”
“You really want to do this to me?”
“Yes. But only if you want me to. If you’re really against it, I won’t do it. It’s going to be on you forever, so I want you to want it.”
She studies the tattoos on my arms for a few moments.
“Did you do these?” she asks.
“I did some on my left arm. I did the dragon. Lukas did my right arm.”
She lightly touches my skin, tracing the designs. “Well … what did you have in mind for me?”
“Angel wings on your back. I was staring at your back this morning while you were sleeping and I just thought how fucking gorgeous you would look with angel wings. Your skin is so pale and perfect. It’ll be beautiful on you.”
She contemplates this, chewing her lip. “I kinda always wanted a tattoo but Nick wouldn’t let me.” Her gaze shifts to the floor.
I scoff. “Let you? What the fuck? You needed permission?”
“You are really in no position to be making judgments about what other men do or what kind of control they try to inflict on their wives. He thought tattoos were like, for strippers and whores. He didn’t want me to look trashy.”
“Is that how you feel, too?”
“No, I always thought body art was beautiful. I used to photograph a friend of mine who’s a model, and she had a lot of them. They were really sexy on her. They were tasteful, though. Not stupid things that meant nothing.”
“Is there some kind of design you’d prefer? I’ll do whatever you want. You don’t have to go with what I want.”
She flashes me an adorably wicked grin and touches my hand, leaning over to kiss my lips. “I forgot to kiss you this morning. And thank you for the ramming,” she says.
“You’re not doing so great with that rule.”
“I know.”
I lean back in the chair and wait for her. “So, what’s it gonna be, darlin’?”
Nodding slowly, her smile comes back. “Yes. I think I’m gonna go for it. But only if you go slow. Will you stop when I ask you to?”
“Of course. I’ll give you a lot of breaks, but once we start the design, we have to finish it. Even if we work on it every day for two weeks. I’m not going to let you walk around with a half a design on you.”
“Ew. Deal.”
“Have you decided what you want?”
“I want you to do what you picked. That will mean the most to me.”
Nodding, I try not to let her see how happy that makes me. “Do you think you can straddle the chair backwards so I can get to your back? You can get up and stretch whenever you need to.”
“Sure.”
I get the rest of my gear ready while she turns the chair and moves it closer to me. “Should I take my shirt off?” she asks.
“Yeah, and your bra too, if you’re okay with that.”
She peers back at me. “Isn’t that unprofessional?”
“Immensely.”
It’s hard to concentrate once she’s sitting there topless, even with her back to me. I try to compose myself.
“I tattoo freehand,” I tell her, gathering her hair and laying it over her shoulder. “Keep your hair in front.”
“I have no idea what freehand means.”
I open a sterile rubbing alcohol pack and wipe her back with it. “It means I don’t draw a sketch first and then trace it onto your back to fill in. I just tat straight on.”
“Oh. How big is this going to be?”
I sit back and stare at her blank skin, trying to envision it in my mind. She’s so tiny. I picture it taking up almost her
entire back, if she has the patience for it.
“I was thinking two huge angel wings, taking up pretty much your whole back. It would look incredible, but it would take some time to do, depending on how much you can handle at once. Or if you just want small wings, I can do that too. It’s your body, so you tell me.”
She grabs her cell phone and starts fiddling with it, then turns and thrusts it at me. It’s a web image of a tattoo similar to what I described. The art isn’t as good as mine, but it’s not bad. “Like this?” she asks.
“Yeah but my detail and shading will be much more realistic than that. But yeah, that size.”
“Yes! That’s what I want. I will love that.”
“Let’s get started then. Try to keep still, and let me know if you need me to stop.”
I snap my black gloves on and get to work. She yowls two seconds after I start. I pull back.
“Ouch! That does hurt. Shit!”
I stifle a laugh. I’ve seen girls react this way at least a hundred times. “You kinda get numb to it after a while. Do you want me to stop? There’s just a tiny black line.”
“No!” she wails. “I’m doing this. I will not wuss out.”
“Good girl.”
“Just talk a lot to distract me.”
We talk casually as I work on her. She tells me some funny stories about when she was a little girl, and I tell her a few of my tamer childhood stories. I want to tell her about the band, and more about my music but I’m afraid that could lead to too many possible connections for her to connect the dots and figure out who I am. Shit. For the first time in my life, all my lies are making me sick.
