by Poppet
"Take those godawful contacts out."
Flicking my eyes up to stare back at Seithe. "Why? You wear them."
My heart rate increases when he covers my body with his own to speak softly into my ear, "No, I don't."
Nimbly he pushes a thumb under an eye and painfully pops off a contact. He flicks it next to his foot before forcing the twin out of my other eye. With a smirk he crushes them under a heel. Titling my chin up he stares into lapis lazuli eyes with his own gentle brown ones.
"That's better."
His velvet voice seduces me with its pleasure. Willingly I wrap my arms around his neck as he kisses me softly, tenderly. He's so full of contradictions. Mmmmmm! Slurpilicious. I can taste the hint of allspice in his mouth. My head lolls back in a wave of dizziness as I gasp against his lips, pleased with my sensory analysis, "Allspice."
He wraps an arm around my waist, letting me lean against him for strength, and strolls away, flicking a hand signal to Darise in farewell. I soak in his heat, anticipating the feel of this body touching mine, naked hopefully, the hand in my waist running rivers of sensation over me later. I'm happy to leave. And I don't care where we're going, as long as I get to engage in Operation Seithe.
Up in the crisp predawn air, he pauses to stare down into my face.
"You are beautiful with pink flushed cheeks."
I smile back lazily, still sedated from the purple H, "You bring out the heat in me."
"Close your eyes." I close them obediently.
Lips flit over each eyelid softly, his heated breath bathing me; I curse my trusting compliance as a tight band forces my eyes to remain closed.
He holds me close, I can feel muscles under his clothes, smell his scent wafting in waves of warmth to accost my nostrils, when his low voice whispers intimately into my ear, "Trust me."
In reply, I nod. Blinded again. The fear of being forced to trust him implicitly gives me sobering awareness. My relaxed stupor evaporates like my cloud of breath in the chilling air.
I experience an odd lurching sensation, the kind you get when you're on a roller coaster and have just started free-falling down after a crest.
He seats me on something hard, holding me close to his side, keeping me warm and managing to make me feel partially safe because I can indulge in his presence.
"What do you smell?"
I focus and inhale deeply. The air is laced headily with the scent of wisteria. "Flowers. Wisteria I think."
I feel a jerk from him. Then something tickles under my nose, "This?"
"Jasmine."
A low chuckle. "This?"
Hmm. This is a tough one. It's definitely got that green smell to it.
"Hold it. Crush it between your fingers."
I fumble blindly, finding his flexing forearm. My body reacts as I trace fingers over his muscles to his wrist to find the object clasped in his fingers. I take it and squeeze it out of sexual frustration, releasing energy. Mint explodes into the air powerfully.
A giggle slips, "Mint."
Feeling an arm on either side of me as he speaks into my ear, "All fragrances are more intense at night."
His breath is on my face and I part my lips with expectation.
Something wet falls onto the lip, slipping into my mouth. I react, flinching away; wiping at my mouth, "Ugh. Don't do that! Gross."
He pulls my hand away, holding it tight.
"Taste it."
It's bitter and it burns. "It's alcoholic."
"Tasting of?"
"Whiskey?"
"Very good. Now open wide."
Tentatively, with huge trepidation, I open my mouth wider. Warm liquid slips in, running over my lip onto my chin. I clamp my mouth to hold the fluid in and nearly choke when stubble and lips impress on my chin, followed with a snaking tongue.
The taste is liquorice. It's so pungent and overpowering. His mouth covers mine and a roaming tongue finds its way through my lips to taste the liquid in my mouth.
He pulls away, chuckling softly, "What was it?"
"Liquorice."
"Wrong, close but wrong."
"Anise?"
The blindfold is ripped off in a swift motion, with a triumphant, "Yes!"
I stare around at Kirstenbosch botanical gardens. At least I think that's where we are.
How did we get here so fast? And since when can you get in at night?
He's so handsome when he smiles. Hands hold my jeans and he pulls me to sit with my legs wrapped around him. Facing each other on the unforgiving bench. I'm under dressed for the chill air out here.
Clouds roll down the back of Table Mountain behind us like dry ice vapours; spilling hazy droplets which magically vanish. The dragon's breath is cold tonight. There's mojo in the air, the way the moon catches us with milky ethereal rays, subtly highlighting and softening our images.
I am stranded between realms; the trees and large rolling lawns hauntingly lit with subdued lunar ambience. White flowers capture the rays, splaying them outward. These immaculate gardens are a showpiece of the very best variety of natural vegetation.
The air is redolent with fragrance, but his warm cologne dominates the frivolous scents of stamens heavy with pollen. Pin cushion proteas sticky with nectar lure moths to float past us lazily, as if we are simply two apparitions striking a lovers pose. Night art, sharing the stage with the moon's rings and the misty breath of the stone.
My own breath catches with anticipation; it feels so right. This moment is simply enchanting.
His head dips into my neck and I relish the tempting kissing. Slipping my hands under his black knitted shirt, I rest them on his stomach. I can feel hairs below his navel and wonder what colour they are. My eyes close when I rest my forehead on his shoulder.
A shocked gasp escapes as he yanks my top down. The pathetic spaghetti straps binding my arms to my sides rather effectively, considering how feeble they seem. The cold air bites into my skin, it erupts with reaction, nipples harden, and I am appalled by his smug laugh.
Chapter 5: Touch
His mischievous smile dances as he drinks in my exposed flesh with a gaze.
"Describe it."
"Humiliating."
He leans forward and so tenderly kisses me that it makes my heart ache; emotions prickle. Tracing my jaw-line with a soft touch, he reassures, "No baby girl, that is not the lesson. Explain the cold attacking what was warm. Is your skin talking to you?"
"Yes, it says it's freezing cold!"
"Pretend I can't feel anything at all. Now try to describe the sensation you're experiencing."
"What if someone sees us?"
"I'll rip their eyes out. Now talk to me, baby."
I release a sigh of resignation. Closing eyes to concentrate on my skin. "It feels uncomfortable. Every movement of air makes my hair follicles tingle in reaction to the stimulation. My spine feels as though someone is breathing on it and it creates a sensation we associate with fear. Everything tightens, is tense, movement hurts. It's so cold it's on the precipice of painful. I'm not enjoying this."
My throat burns when I inhale deeply in shock. His mouth covers my right nipple. Sucking slightly, gentle pressure. He moves back and covers it with his hand as blue eyes watch me with interest, "How does that compare?"
"Comforting, warm, enjoyable."
"You are forgetting something."
I glare at him. Sometimes I'm not altogether positive he's sane.
"Muscles? Do they speak to you too?"
I purse numbing lips, "They are tense, almost to the point of cramping. A sudden movement would cause me severe pain. They tense because they're exposed to the cold. Your warmth causes those parts of my body to relax."
As he pulls my straps up and re-covers me, I use the opportunity to slap him.
"Stinging painful sensation. Causing heat to erupt in my palm with needle-like prickles. It almost hurts, but the satisfaction of doing it overrides the pain and induces an overwhelming desire to laugh."
He a
rches his neck and a low rumble of laughter breaks the vacuum of silence around us. It's unnaturally quiet, I don't even hear a cricket. I stare at that neck. I have a weakness for strong necks. They melt me.
"Still a vixen."
Quirking a challenging eyebrow I rub my cold arms, suppressing a shiver.
He leans closer to me, pulling me into his embrace, "Aren't you afraid I'll react in kind?"
"Aren't you afraid I will?" I snap back.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning I'll pull your pants down and watch your balls turn blue and ask you to describe the pain."
His laughter dies against my collarbone, snuffed with a silent kiss.
I push further as he tries to distract me with kisses by biting his neck being exposed to me. "That is reacting in kind. Do you like it? Do you feel the burning pain? Does it turn you on? Does it increase your adrenalin? Does it make you want to hurt me or lust after me?"
His hands tighten and he pulls me ever closer. My eyes stare at the exposed neck above his black shirt. I can just see over the muscles leading to his neck, into the shadowed recesses of the tree littered gardens, ancient sentries guarding a landmark of beauty; hoping for a glimpse of wildlife. We could even get naked and bathe in Lady Ann Barnard's bath. Somehow doing something utterly forbidden is always irresistibly enticing.
Hot breath warms my ear as he whispers seductively, "I like it when you fight back."
"I wasn't fighting."
"I want to hurt you but at the same time I don't. Does it turn me on? Yes."
I can't see his eyes and it's hard to read his voice. I am sensing hesitation in this answer.
"But?"
I snuggle in, soaking in his comforting body heat. Suddenly the thought of icy water is totally unappealing.
"But you're tasty."
I swivel my head and lick his neck gently with the tip of my tongue, sliding over grazing stubble. "You're tasty too." Answering before he can speak, "And no, I'm not going to describe it to you."
"Are you still cold?"
"No. Why?"
"Your nipples are harder than stalactites."
My cheeks heat up rapidly with an uncomfortable blush. I hide my face in the crook of his neck, feeling shy.
"Even I can feel that heat. Why does arousal embarrass you?"
"Because."
"Because why?"
"Because I hardly know you! I don't have your phone number, or know your last name. You make me bolder than I am. I don't usually let complete strangers bite me and remove my clothes on a whim. I'm not an exhibitionist."
"I make you uncomfortable?"
"No. I find you thrilling. You make me feel alive."
His hand manages to pull my chin out of his neck so he can examine my eyes. I stare sullenly back at warm chocolate ones.
"What colour are your eyes?" I have to know.
"Brown."
"Now they are, but I mean naturally."
"Brown."
"But then, how do you make them go blue?"
"It's a genetic defect."
"Wow. How awesome."
"I dislike phones, but I'll email you if it will make you happy."
I nod, a shy smile quirking my mouth at the corners.
He leans closer to me, his face tight against mine, a stubbled cheek prickling mine, "Whisper the address into my ear, and I promise you can keep contact with me."
I feel silly, but indulge him.
Withdrawing, he grins, and I'm drawn to that sensual bottom lip again. It's such an unnatural shade of red. Most women would die for lips that naturally red. He kisses me deeply, reading my transparency.
He's intoxicating. A drug I'm becoming addicted to. I climb deeper into his lap, hooking arms behind his subliminally strong neck. He smells warm, mildly soapy, mildly spicy, and his mouth is just the most succulent experience I've ever indulged in.
Warm arms squeeze me tightly into his chest, until I'm struggling to breathe. He unlocks our lips long enough for me to whisper breathlessly, "Take me home."
He places a hand over my eyes and speaks deeply next to my ear, "Hold tight." I squeeze my arms and legs tightly around him, thinking he's joking, but pass out with immediate vertigo.
Chapter 6: Silence
Mmmm, this is comfortable. I am so peaceful and relaxed. I'm the perfect temperature; this is better than a floatation tank. I should have bought myself a futon decades ago.
Reluctantly I part my eyelids. A single flame burns, pathetic against so much perfect black. It makes no impression other than to cause a searing pain behind my retina.
Where am I?
Oooooh! Swallowing heavily, I close my eyes again to indulge in the nubile lips tracing my nape. Why are warm lips shrouded with breath so sensually enticing?
Seductively lulling me to stay relaxed, trust, submit mindlessly. Indulging in sensory overload, without thinking about where it's going to go, or what it means, but to be completely in the right here and now, no questions, no expectations.
I'm enjoying this so much, succumbing to sensation, shutting out that little voice of reason; so easy.
I wait for my heartbeat to let me catch my breath before asking quietly, "Where are we?"
"It doesn't matter."
I wriggle around to face him. It's so dark in here I still feel blind.
"Phoebe, you are capable of so much more."
"More what?"
"Sensation."
Oh well, why don't you be more subtle next time? That's one way to try and get into my pants.
"Oh really?" I can't hide the smile of amusement tingeing my tone, plumping my cheeks.
"Tonight I want you to communicate non-verbally. Find other ways to express yourself."
Giggling, I open my mouth and point into it with my finger. Followed with choking noises, to indicate I am thirsty.
He chuckles before sitting up and retrieving a wine glass, which he presents to me.
I incline my head, feeling bloody stupid, and take it, sipping it slowly. It's warm, coating my tongue and leaving a biting aftertaste.
He's like a barely visible ghost; it's really dark.
As if sensing my thoughts, his hair turns blond, his eyes silver, and I catch my breath. I feel like I'm laying beside a supernatural being. An angel.
I trace his face with a fingertip. Soaking in the contours of a cupid's bow and sensational brows. How do you non-verbally communicate that you find someone beautiful? Cupping his face with my hands, I softly cover lips with my own.
Leaning away, I run my hands down his delectable torso, before breaking the moment with a giggle of mirth and two thumbs up. I then change my hand signal to the O of perfection.
His laughter breaks the silence with me. "Not quite what I had in mind."
"So explain yourself."
"Your body is a mass of nerve endings. All talking to your brain, imbuing constant information. Your body loudly tells you what it likes, and what it doesn't. Pain and discomfort, indicates dislike. Pleasure is enjoyable, it's something you want more of. Try and use these two polar opposites, to communicate to me, what you do and don't like. Yes and no. Without speaking."
I nod acquiescence. Okay. He's full of games, and so far none of them have endangered me. In a way it's fun. Sometimes it's a turn on. I'm prepared to indulge his little fantasies.
"Take your clothes off."
I shake my head to indicate the negative. He picks up the candle, then holds my wrist over the flame until it begins to burn.
"Stop it!" I'm struggling to pull free from his imprisoning grasp.
He puts the candle back down and stares at me, still gripping my wrist, "Did that non-verbally indicate displeasure to you?"
I nod, definitely intimidated now.
"Take off your clothes."
Grabbing the inside of his bicep, I pinch hard. I'm fearful.
"Aaah, that would be a no?"
I nod again.
"Find another method to indicate the positive."
That was such a bloody shock to my system.
He waits for me to withdraw, before challenging, "But, what if you can't move toward me? How will you communicate then?"
Holding his strong hand, I give it a gentle squeeze of pressure.
He smiles, "Better. I like a fast learner."
I feel like flipping him the bird, but instead I grip one of the hairs in the hollow of his throat and pull it out.
His smile is so wide now, which is the last thing I expected. He runs fingers into my hair, commanding my head to his face where he invades me with a fervent kiss.
He's so cocksure.
Why do I always go for the overly confident ones?
Like an imbecile, I close my eyes and give myself to the sensory explosion.
With numbing speed he manages to pull the pathetic shirt down to my waist and flip me over, keeping me stomach down on the soft surface we're reclining on.
I can't exactly reach him now, to indicate displeasure. Instead I growl deep in my throat, my eyes unable to see him or what he's doing. A hand pushes into the small of my back to hold me down.
Searing heat drops onto my shoulder blade.
"Hot candle wax. Do not use your voice. Next time I won't be so gentle."
I fumble with my hand until I find his skin and grip it tightly between unvarnished fingernails.
He leans over, covering me with heat, his mouth next to my ear, "Good girl."
I'm wary. I have no idea where this is going, and I'm tense!
Something liquid and warm runs down my spine before his hands catch it, smearing it in palm caressing circles over my skin. A hand covers my eyes, forcing them closed.
A strong scent of tangerine rushes to my olfactory nerve. Now I feel stupid. He's massaging me, and I put up such a fight.
Fingers trace my spine, kneading into shoulders, stubble on my nape. I snap the fingers on my right hand, furthest away from him.
He places a hand in mine, his weight resting on my buttocks. I pull the hand under me so he can feel the biological response my body is giving the pressure of his hands. I hear him laugh softly before kissing my neck, wordlessly indicating pleasure. Fingertips run over my breast before returning to my spine.
