Aeromancist: The Beginning

by Charmaine Pauls

  His hands were on her shoulders, rubbing in sensual movements. Preparing her. For what? The contact gone. Kat realized her thoughts were coming in fragmented shards. All that remained was sensation. She existed in a dark world of feeling only. Something soft, cool wrapped around her neck. The music picked up. Crescendo. An unspoken whisper, ‘Come to me’. Something on her clit. A vibrator? Yes. The feeling drove her insane. Not enough. Too much. His cock in her pussy, driving her up, up, wild. Her screams. A tightening around her neck. No air. No breath. Oh God.

  He fucked her mindless. Sparks exploded behind her eyes. There was pressure on the plug in her ass, pressure on her clit, the vibrator speeding up, his cock pushing so hard her body moved up the bed. A tightening. She was going to pass out. Panic got hold of her. Just as she considered yelling, the pressure around her neck released. Air again.

  Gulps of breath that burned her throat. An intense awareness of her senses. The vision behind her blindfold went white. An orgasm that ripped her apart. It wouldn’t end. Make it stop. Did she say that out loud? Lann jamming into her, his cock growing even thicker. His hot semen running down her legs. The spasms wouldn’t stop coming. Ripples over her body, contracting her pelvis, her nipples. Stretching her body. Driving her over an edge she couldn’t come back from.

  Please, make it stop. Could she even speak? Soundless panting. Lann’s kisses on her face, shoulders, back. The pressure eased from her ass. Her arms were free. Lifted. Lann’s fingers rubbed over her wrists. Her body was flipped over. The music softened, slowed. Lann’s big hands massaged her. Slow strokes over her body, over her tense muscles. This warm tongue pressed against her folds. Not moving. Simply soothing. Something slipping from her throat. Lann’s arms around her.

  Quiet. The music was gone. He pulled the earphones free, and then the blindfold. Light.

  His thumbs pressed gently on her eyes. “Don’t open them just yet.” His voice, his sweet, familiar voice, washing over her. “Give them time to adjust.”

  When his touch lifted, she opened them slowly, and stared into Lann’s face. He cradled her in his arms. His expression was tender, his pupils dilated. His hand cupped her face. When he kissed her, it was long and tender.

  Kat stared at him, feeling her equilibrium slowly stabilize. “What have you done to me?” The croakiness of her voice shocked her.

  He kissed her throat. “Which part?”

  She pushed away from him. Her fingers went to her neck. “Did you strangle me?”

  His hands slipped to his sides. “Yes.”

  She looked at him, shocked. “Why?”

  “Do you need to ask, Katherine? Haven’t you felt it?” he said softly, his tone dark. “That day at the lake, you told me you liked it.”

  “What are you?” She struggled away from him and wobbly managed to come to her feet.

  He watched her emotionlessly. “I’d never risk your life. I promised you. It was only for a few seconds.”

  She trembled from head to toe from more than the after-effect of her orgasm. “What if you’d miscalculated? What if you forget yourself in your own pleasure?”

  “Katherine,” his voice was stern, sounding strangely reasonable, “I promised you I’d take all the control so that you could lose yours, and that’s what I did.”

  She turned.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need time,” she said, a quiver in her voice, “to process this.”

  “What you need is to ask yourself if you enjoyed it. Was that the best orgasm of your life? Did you explode inside, feel only pleasure, and nothing else?”

  She faced him again slowly. “I don’t like the idea of being strangled.”

  His eyes narrowed. “It was far from strangling.” When her hand fluttered back to her neck, he said, “I didn’t leave any marks. I used a silk scarf.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  He reached for her. “Katherine, I—”

  She took a step back. “I want to be alone.”

  She needed to understand, to come to grips with herself, to get over the shock of how much she had enjoyed what he had done to her. It couldn’t be normal.

  “Krasavitsa, I would never harm you.” His eyes drilled into hers.

  “Have you ...” She needed to ask a question that had nothing to do with the situation, or with how they were having sex. It was one she had skirted for way too long. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

  His eyes turned cold, his voice hard. “Not while fucking them.”

  The intake of her breath was loud. She had always suspected. No, deep down, she had always known. Why, then, did it come as such a shock? She needed to get away. To think. Her eyes fell on his clothes that were draped over a chair. She grabbed his shirt and pulled it on with jerky movements.

  “Run, bella,” he said, “go hide in your room, cry in the dark, convince yourself that you didn’t like what I did to you, that I’m a monster. If this outburst is what you need to face that we’re coming to an end, I’ll gladly carry your misguided guilt for you.”

  A sob escaped her throat. She ran for the door. He wouldn’t see her cry. He wouldn’t see her tears. For the first time since she had started sleeping in Lann’s room, she got into her own bed. The sheets were cold, and they felt like what they were—not her own.

  Chapter Eight

  Kat huddled in her bed. She wanted to curl into a ball and cry because she was here instead of in Lann’s bed. She wanted to cry because he confirmed her worst suspicions: people had died at his hand. She wanted to cry because his words had cut deep. But most of all, she wanted to cry because he was right—she couldn’t face the end.

  Despite it all, the hard, cold truth was that Lann was perfect for her. After everything he told her, she still trusted him. Instinctively, she knew he was a good person. She trusted him with breath play during sex. She trusted him with her life. With a jolt of her heart, she realized that she more than trusted him. She was in love with him.

  When the door between their rooms opened, she gave a little jump. Lann was dressed in a silk gown, carrying a tumbler with golden liquor. He studied her over the rim of his glasses as he slowly approached.

  He handed her the glass, sat down next to her on the bed, moved back against the headboard and pulled her into his lap.

  “Drink that,” he instructed in his usual commanding way. “It’ll take the edge off.”

  She sniffed the drink. “Whiskey?”

  “Scotch.”

  “Why did you come?” she said warily. “You’re angry.”

  “I’m not angry.” He sighed. “Did you think I wouldn’t want to soothe you?” He stroked her hair, his fingers playing with her curls.

  “I’m sorry for my reaction,” she whispered. “It was just ... overwhelming.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I thought you were ready.”

  Kat wanted to be everything he needed her to, but what he did frightened her. Anyway, it wasn’t as if they were building a relationship.

  “You don’t think I’d hurt you?” His voice was pained. “Is that why you asked me if I’ve ever killed someone?”

  She bit her lip, contemplating her answer. Finally, she said, “When I told you I trusted you, I meant it. There’s just so much about you I don’t know. There’s this thing with the media, and the way you told me I could be in danger... I can’t help but wonder what you’re really involved in.”

  His arms tightened around her. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “The people you’ve ... killed...” She couldn’t finish her sentence.

  His eyes turned hard. “I told you about my past, about how I grew up. Surely you’re not naïve enough to believe I have no blood on my hands?”

  She barely contained a shiver. “What about now?”

  “Don’t sound so hopeful.” He kissed her nose. “I’m no saint. In my line of work, that’s what’s sometimes required.”

  “Are yo
u often in danger?” She nestled against his chest.

  “You know the answer to that, bella,” he said softly.

  The tears she had been holding back finally found their way to her cheeks. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “Shh.” He kissed her gently. “Drink the Scotch.”

  She threw the drink back and made a face. Warmth filtered down her throat and settled in her stomach. Her muscles seemed to relax a bit.

  “Do you want to talk about what happened in the vault?” he said, his voice tender.

  “I guess I panicked.”

  “It’s called erotic asphyxiation.”

  Kat froze. She was familiar with the term.

  “All we did was some breath play. It wasn’t more than what we did at the lake.” His hand continued to stroke over her hair. “You told me you liked it, and I thought you were ready.”

  “It frightens me, Lann.”

  “Alright. We won’t do it again.”

  “I mean, I did like what you did at the lake. But I wasn’t tied up or handcuffed. I wasn’t helpless. I guess the scarf and being handcuffed is taking it too far for me on some psychological level.”

  “That’s fine, sweetheart.”

  “I do trust you.”

  He was quiet for some time.

  She looked at him imploringly. “Lann?”

  “It’s very important to me that you trust me. Your fear is understandable. We’ve only been together for a month. If we had more time ...”

  She bit her lip. “Do you need it to turn you on?”

  Gripping her chin, he turned her face to him. “I do what I do to turn you on, krasavitsa. Whatever I do is more for your benefit than for mine.”

  “Then what do you need?”

  He took the glass and left it on the bedside table. “Seeing your pleasure is all I need.” He removed his glasses, leaving them on the table too. His head came down, slowly, until their lips met. Lann always knew how to steal her breath.

  When he finally let her go, he said, “What would you like to do tomorrow? Would you like to go flying?”

  They had one week left. Lann still hadn’t spoken about the following Sunday, about her leaving, or the technicalities thereof, such as how and at what time. She forced it from her mind.

  “What about the media?” she said.

  “Fuck them. I want to make it perfect for you.”

  “Yes. I want you to take me flying.”

  “Anything you want.”

  * * * *

  Even though she had to, Kat couldn’t face working on her thesis the following morning. She had started thinking of the days in numbers. It was Saturday, day twenty-two. It was as if she had a calendar imprinted in her brain, and every new morning she circled another number closer to thirty with a red marker.

  To take her thoughts off the inevitable, she helped Lann evaluate books for a few hours, until he chased her off to work on her thesis after lunch, while he continued with the task of inspecting his book collection. Since it was a weekend, they were alone, except for Alfonso, the security guards, and kitchen staff. They worked quietly in the library. From time to time, her gaze slipped to the door upstairs, and she couldn’t help the blush that colored her cheeks during those moments.

  An hour into the afternoon Alfonso entered the room and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, a word with you please, sir?”

  The way in which the butler glanced at her told her that this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have in front of her, but Lann said, “Go ahead, Alfonso.”

  She continued to type, pretending she wasn’t eavesdropping.

  Alfonso cleared his throat again. “Shall I prepare the usual, sir?”

  “Yes.” From over her screen, Kat could see Lann flip his glasses down. He stared at her. She averted her eyes and didn’t break the speed of her fingers, even if she knew she was making plenty of typos. “I’ll need day and evening suits. Pack my coats. And snow gear.”

  Kat’s heart shrunk painfully.

  Alfonso nodded. “I hear it’s snowing in New York, sir. Any chance the flight might be cancelled?”

  She knew Lann was still looking at her. However, she kept her gaze on her keyboard, her fingers clacking away.

  “No. The weather will hold.”

  “Yes, sir. You’ve never been wrong about the weather.”

  With an apologetic nod of his head in her direction, Alfonso left.

  Lann walked to her desk. “I’m taking the ten o’clock flight on Sunday in a week’s time.”

  She lifted her head and forced a smile. “Oh. I’ll wait to say goodbye then.”

  When he didn’t speak for several seconds, she said, a bit too brightly, “Have you managed to go through all of them?” She motioned at a pile of books on his desk.

  “No. It’ll have to wait for next time.”

  His voice was sad. Maybe it was because of more than just the books. Maybe he’d miss her, or think of her sometimes.

  He removed his glasses, left them on the light table, and held his hand to her. “Come here.”

  She obeyed, getting to her feet and placing her palm in his. He led her to the stairs.

  “What are you doing, Lann?”

  “I’ve been watching you looking at this room all morning. I told you I was going to make love to you in here, but I want your memory of this room to be a good one.”

  “But it is a good—”

  He placed his finger on her lips. This time he sent her in front of him, his hands on her hips. He unlocked the door, and waited for her to enter, as if that would be her answer. She stepped inside without hesitation. Lann followed and closed the door.

  “Do you want me to undress?” she said shyly.

  “No, krasavitsa.”

  His answer surprised her, but then he started to unbutton her blouse. “I want to undress you.”

  He removed her clothes first, then his. He scooped her up and carried her to the bed, laying her down gently.

  “Turn onto your front,” he said.

  She did, expecting him to bring forward one or the other kinky sex toy, but instead he started rubbing her shoulders. He massaged her neck and back, working his way down her buttocks, thighs, calves and feet, until he had worked all the knots out of her muscles. She moaned contentedly when he slipped his hands under her body and turned her around. He started the whole routine from scratch, this time down the front of her body, paying special care to her breasts and her stomach. By the time he was done, Kat was both relaxed and impossibly turned on.

  She took his face between her hands. “Please, Lann.”

  “Your wish is my command, my beautiful Katherine.”

  His answer was to kiss her, and then he took her so gently she would have sworn he was making love to her if she hadn’t known better.

  * * * *

  They were about to drift off to sleep in the blissful glow of their release, but Kat didn’t want to waste a wakeful second.

  She drew her fingers through Lann’s hair. “Come swim with me?”

  He smiled lazily. “Now?”

  “Now.”

  His eyes took on a teasing light. “Only if we swim naked.”

  “What about Alfonso?”

  “Alfonso knows when to disappear,” he said, already sitting up and pulling her to her feet.

  He marched to the door naked, waiting for her to follow. Kat grabbed his shirt and pulled it on, just in case Alfonso didn’t disappear before they got to the pool.

  Lann put on some music, a Chambao Flamenco Chill album she liked, and poured them each a Pisco Sour. They sipped it in the pool, and when she grew chilly, they got out and lay down on the chairs in the sun.

  Kat studied him. His scars were healing and his bruises had started to fade. If she believed he’d actually answer her, she’d ask him again about how he’d obtained those nasty marks. Lann seemed content with the silence, deep in his own thoughts, and Kat said nothing. Neither of them spoke about the future. As the sun s
tarted setting, Kat felt depressed.

  * * * *

  Day twenty-three, four, five, and the rest of them rolled by. Even if Kat tried hard not to think about Sunday, it was impossible to ignore D-day. She went through the motions during that last week—working, helping Lann, and enjoying dinners with him. She called Diana and lied, telling her friend that she was fine, that she hadn’t fallen in love with her Russian lover. After the Valentine’s ball she’d asked Lann to cut off her airflow once while they were having sex, and he complied by applying pressure to her neck with his fingers, but he never again did it when she was handcuffed. Her orgasm was so intense that she blacked out for a few seconds. She tried to please him, too, whenever she could. For the last seven days they had sex so many times that she was as sore as the first night with Lann.

  The media attention started to dwindle. There were fewer articles in the gossip columns and only one or two hardened paparazzi still camped out in front of the building in the hope of catching a stolen photo of the lovers. Kat hadn’t left the convent since the dance at the Moneda and the day they went flying, and on Saturday, their last day together, Lann took her out in the glider again. They soared over the Andes for a good hour before landing. Afterward he took her for a picnic in the mountains, and they returned to the monastery, hot and sunburned, in the late afternoon. They went for a swim and stretched out in the last rays of the sun to dry. When Kat was quiet, her mind always fixed on one thing. This was the end.

  It was late before Kat wrapped a towel around her body. She stood next to Lann’s chair. “I’m going for a shower.”

  She hoped it sounded like an invitation, but Lann said, “I have some loose ends to tie up, so how about I meet you for dinner at nine?”

  She nodded, and he kissed her hand.