Descended (The Red Blindfold Book 1)

by Rose Devereux

  “What I’m doing? You’re out of your mind.”

  “You’re right. That’s exactly what I am.”

  He kissed my open lips, forcing his tongue into my mouth and grabbing the back of my head. Though the kiss was almost violent, there was a gentleness in the pressure of his fingers that made my legs tremble and go weak.

  But I had never been weak. Not before meeting Marc, and certainly not after.

  On instinct, I slammed my fists against his bare chest and tried to shove him away. Everything was happening too fast, before I could understand what I was feeling or why. I only knew that it was dangerous, an attraction way too strong to handle.

  Breaking the kiss, I turned my face away. “Don’t,” I said.

  He pushed his hand between my legs, searching with insistent fingers through my dress. “Let me touch you,” he said his words clipped and decisive. “I know you want me to.”

  His cock was so stiff and large against my abdomen that he seemed like a cross between human and animal. He kissed me again, bruising my lips under his.

  “Please,” I said, in a cracked whisper. “I mean it.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  No, I didn’t. But how did he know?

  Face blazing with shame, I looked down to see a conspicuous damp spot on my dress. My deprived body had betrayed me. It didn’t matter what I said, Marc’s fingers knew I was aroused and wet.

  This couldn’t be me. I didn’t respond this way to anybody. I needed a lot of foreplay and even then, sex was something I had to get psyched up for.

  “Marc,” I pleaded.

  “Shhh,” he said, his fingers finding my clit through the layer of silk.

  I’d never felt so vulnerable, so close to losing control. Maybe what I’d felt in the car wasn’t a fluke. The passion I’d always wanted was happening now, on assignment, with a man I had no right to want. And it scared the shit out of me.

  I tried again to push him away, but in one smooth motion he grabbed my wrists and pinned them behind my back. I gasped at his strength and tried to yank myself free. “Is that what you want?” he asked, his face an inch from mine. “For me to let you go?”

  I opened my mouth to say yes, but my voice failed. All I could do was stare at him, my lips swollen and tingling.

  “No?” he said. “I didn’t think so.”

  Slowly, teasingly, he lifted the hem of my dress with his free hand. Eyes riveted to his face, I held my breath as he trailed gentle fingers along my inner thigh. He hooked his thumb over the sheer lace edge of my panties and let it rest beside my hip bone. His smell – so sexy and distinct – was soothing, mesmerizing, intoxicatingly male. For a long moment, neither of us moved, then he pulled my panties with a light jerk down to my knees. I was too spellbound to do anything but whimper.

  He smiled when he saw that the panties were drenched, but it was a dark smile that sent a shiver through my gut. “And I thought you might need coaxing,” he said.

  I tried to pull my wrists away but it was useless. “I can’t.”

  “You can’t? But you enjoy being held this way. We both know you do.”

  I shook my head defiantly, bangs falling into my eyes.

  “You like feeling out of control. It excites you, doesn’t it, Sophie?”

  My nipples were achingly hard, my thighs wet and sticky. It was obvious what I felt, but I wouldn’t admit it. I couldn’t.

  “I didn’t hear you,” he said. He tipped up my chin and forced me to look at him. “Say it. Tell me it excites you.”

  Almost without meaning to, I nodded my head once.

  “Out loud,” he barked.

  “Yes,” I said quickly.

  “Yes, what?”

  “I like it,” I said, horrified to hear myself say the words. “It excites me.”

  At this, he let go of my chin and reached for the slick warmth between my legs. I bit my lip to keep from crying out. Nothing in my life had ever felt so good. With perfect precision, he delicately probed a finger into my wetness, sliding it from clitoris to hot entrance and back again until tears stung my eyes.

  I’d never come with a man. I had no idea how it would feel or what might happen if I gave myself to him. I was petrified, and his for the taking.

  “Oh, God,” I whispered. Breath coming fast and shallow, my eyelids began to drift shut.

  “Look at me,” he said, his voice like poison-laced honey. “I want to see the pleasure in your eyes when I touch you.”

  I forced myself to look at him, and saw raw hunger in his expression. It would take nothing – the raising of my leg, the unzipping of his pants – for him to enter me. As if he knew the direction of my thoughts, he pushed two fingers inside me, just long and deep enough that I could imagine how it would feel to be fucked by him. I tilted my hips the way I’d pictured in a thousand frustrated fantasies and moaned.

  With a rogue’s laugh, he loosened his grip on my wrists. He had a willing and aroused captive, and he knew it.

  “Take my cock in your hands,” he said, his fingers still sliding between my legs. I reached for him, clumsily grazing his hard-ridged stomach. I fumbled with his belt, trembling so violently he must have thought it was my first time.

  “Feel that?” he said as I slid my hand into his jeans. “You do that to me. You’ve been doing it to me all fucking day.”

  His muscles contracted at my touch and a low, carnal sound tore from his throat. He was hot and velvety in my fingers, his huge erection throbbing against my palm. Never taking his eyes from mine, he slipped the other strap from my shoulder, letting my dress fall over my naked chest to my waist. Finally, he let his gaze drift downward. “Incredible,” he muttered. “I knew you would be.”

  He skimmed his hand over my rib cage to my breasts, stroking one and then the other, and finally, squeezing my nipples with exquisite tenderness. When I gasped, he grew even larger and harder in response. “Your body could drive a man insane,” he said. “Is that what you’re trying to do? Drive me insane?”

  “No,” I whispered, my breath short and fast.

  “Squeeze your hands together. Feel how big I am.”

  Biting my lip for courage, I squeezed. He grunted in response and exhaled sharply. So this was what a well-endowed man felt like, so huge and hard he could tear a woman apart.

  “You have no idea how you affect me, do you?” he said, grabbing my hips in both hands.

  Heart throbbing against my ribs, I shook my head.

  He smiled wickedly. “Okay, then. Maybe this will make you understand.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Marc spun me around and bent me over the bed. Pulling my dress up in one tug, he pushed himself against my naked ass. I couldn’t believe I was giving in to him – or was he giving in to me? At least a month of dating before sex had been my hard-and-fast rule since graduating from college. Now it seemed like a quaint vestige of a time when I hadn’t known what real desire was.

  I heard his belt buckle clink as his pants fell to the floor. Holding my wrists in front of me, he tipped my pelvis back with his other hand. “Just like that, you gorgeous thing,” he said, pushing my legs apart with his knee. “That’s how I’m going to fuck you to pieces.”

  At his words, my pussy flowed with lust and fear. So this was the true Marc.

  He was not gentle or sweet. He wasn’t a bit nervous. He was not going to ask permission, or let go of me and apologize. He was relentless, a man who wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted.

  “We shouldn’t,” I whispered, sliding one foot to the side to open myself even more.

  “I know,” he said. “We’re going to anyway.”

  His mouth was against my neck, biting, sucking, bruising my skin and the edge of my jaw. I felt the profound pressure of his swollen tip, then my body yielding as his thick shaft filled me completely. “Marc, please…” A cry escaped my lips, a sharp sound of overwhelming pleasure made only more intense by his size. He was too big, too tall, too powerful. Too much was what
I’d always wanted, and I’d never known it until now.

  He fucked me standing up, thrusting with savage force and heartbreaking tenderness. I could hear myself as if from a distance, my high-pitched moans mingling with his deep grunts of hunger. I’d always been almost silent in bed, but with Marc I couldn’t stay quiet. All the years I’d viewed sex with contempt and disappointment – this was what I’d been missing. The right body, the right man, the smell of his skin and the taste of his lips. Every stroke was a blunt reminder of how much I excited him, and how hard he was for me. Now that I’d experienced it, I would never be satisfied with anything less.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, pulsating inside me. “So sweet and wet.”

  He slipped a hand between my legs and teased my clit with expert fingers. Another minute of this and he’d make me come without even trying. I could already feel the telltale pulsing, the tightening of my thighs and stomach muscles. All that remained was to step up to the edge and fall over into – what? I didn’t know, but I couldn’t wait to find out.

  “Marc,” I panted, heart tripping. “Yes, yes.”

  Suddenly, his thrusts slowed and he pulled his hand away. He’d stopped, though he must have known I was just seconds away.

  “Not yet, Sophie,” he said, turning me to face him. “Not tonight.”

  “What?” I said, confused and breathless. “Why?”

  “Because if I deny you, you’ll never stop wanting me.”

  “But that’s cruel,” I whispered.

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a shudder-inducing smile. “Yes, it is. But it doesn’t mean I’m finished with you. Because I’m not even close.”

  With a harsh groan of impatience, he yanked my dress over my legs and left it puddled on the floor around my feet. “Lie on the bed,” he said. “Face up. Now.”

  Now? Who talked to a grown woman that way? And what sort of grown woman obeyed?

  A naked, wet, and very nervous one, apparently.

  Arms crossed over my breasts, I lay back on the bedspread. The light from the chandelier displayed every lily-white inch of my bare skin. The only protection I had was a slim strip of hair between my legs and dark red polish on my toes. Which amounted to absolutely nothing.

  Marc stood over me, hands braced on his narrow hips. Self-conscious though I was, I couldn’t help but stare at the sheer, strapping perfection of his naked body. Wide shoulders, chest and arms etched with muscle, hard, athletic thighs, and between them, the most impressively massive erection I’d ever seen or dreamt about – he was head-spinningly gorgeous. And he was about to ravish me in the same house where countless women before me had been stripped and deflowered by a madman.

  What the hell was I doing?

  “Don’t cover yourself,” Marc said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’ve left the light on for a reason. I want to see you.”

  Watching his face, I reluctantly slid my arms down to my sides. It was reckless and stupid to give in, but I wanted him too much. I felt my nipples stiffen under his ravenous gaze.

  “Jesus,” he whispered. “Fucking perfect.”

  Without another word, he reached for a pillow, shook off the case, and with two quick snaps tore the linen lengthwise into strips.

  “What’s that for?” I asked, swallowing around the lump in my throat.

  “You’ll see. Cross your ankles for me.”

  I hesitated, panicked thoughts flitting through my mind. The man was tearing a pillowcase to shreds beside my nude body. There was no telling what he planned to do with me. But wasn’t I being ridiculous? He wasn’t a criminal, for God’s sake. He was a well-respected investor and his father was sleeping in the same house. I’d sensed nothing menacing about him – nothing, that is, but the demonically sexy look in his eyes.

  It was too seductive to deny. As soon as I obeyed and crossed my ankles, his expression darkened. I’d never felt so commanded, so overpowered by a man’s lust. That I was the object of it seemed impossible to believe.

  With quick fingers, he bound me with a strip of white cotton, tied it tightly, and knotted it twice for good measure. I was beginning to understand – this was what he liked. To dominate and control, to see me in complete surrender to him. Just like Sade, the man whose urges he claimed to despise.

  “Are you doing this so I won’t escape?” I joked, trying to mask my anxiety.

  “Something like that,” he said, without a hint of amusement. “I take it you’ve never done this before?”

  “No, never.” I cleared my throat. “Have you?”

  He answered with another gruff order: “Hold out your hands.”

  Using the second linen strip, he double-wrapped my wrists, his lips pursed with concentration. Bound like chattel before him, I felt overheated and claustrophobic. “I don’t think I like this,” I said, trying in vain to pull my legs apart.

  He put a gentle hand to my cheek. “Are you sure you don’t? Or is it just a new sensation?”

  I took a long breath. “I’m not sure.”

  “That’s okay,” he said. “I’ll go slowly at first.”

  At first. And after that?

  He bent over and slid his mouth softly across my shoulder. “I’ve wanted this since last night,” he whispered. “I couldn’t think of anything else at dinner.”

  My mind tumbled back to last light, searching for a sign, but all I could remember was his fury when I asked for his photograph. “Then why did you get angry about –”

  “Shush,” he said. “Don’t talk now. Feel.”

  Pulse pounding, I tried to focus on the feeling of his lips against my skin. He kissed me from belly to breast to collarbone, lightly sucking my nipples and fingertips until I was quivering uncontrollably. Every inch of my skin tingled and my clit ached for his fingers.

  “She likes it,” he murmured, touching my inner thigh so lightly it made me shake with chills. “She can’t get enough.”

  Oh, God, the man had already figured me out. I’d never wanted anything – or anyone – so much.

  Just when I thought he’d tease me for eternity, he straddled me, planting his knees on either side of my hips. His silver eyes were fiery now, the muscles in his arms hard and distended.

  In one breathtakingly sudden gesture of control, he grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head. I lay under him, utterly helpless. With his other hand he raised my legs and set my ankles on one of his broad shoulders. He slid the tip of his shaft lightly over my pussy and watched me, pulling away when my breath quickened. Again and again he brought me to the brink, then pulled away with cool, sadistic control.

  “Don’t stop,” I whispered. “Please.” I couldn’t bear his denial anymore. Nothing else mattered but having him inside me again.

  “I enjoy making you suffer,” he said. “Judging from how wet you are, I think you enjoy it, too.”

  With infinite patience he tormented me, teasing me until I hardly felt the ties around my ankles or wrists. Almost frantic now, I writhed under him. I was ready to scream with frustration when he finally pressed his thick, engorged tip between my legs and began to penetrate.

  “You’re so tight,” he said, holding my hips as he slowly pushed himself inside me. “Like no other man has ever touched you.”

  I inhaled quickly and clutched at the air as he filled me to the hilt. Bliss shattered through me. My hips flexed as he pushed my legs back and plunged into my core. It was a feeling of total possession, a profound erotic connection that went beyond words or understanding.

  “See how huge you make me?” he said. “It’s your fault. Every last inch of it.”

  “My fault?” I repeated.

  “And you know it. You know I’d be asleep if you hadn’t stopped outside my door. Don’t you?”

  Chin raised, I curled my bound hands into fists. “You told me to come inside.”

  “And you did. It was your choice. No one forced you.”

  “Then why do I feel forced?” I asked, keeping my voice calm.
/>   His cock swelled inside me. “Because you’re getting fucked the right way for the first time.”

  A sweat-dampened lock of hair fell across his brow and he shook it back. Gazing down at me with steely eyes as if I were prey, he drove into me with long, smooth strokes. He was so damn good at sex, a natural lover. Teacher and pupil, I thought, sweat beading between my breasts. Expert and novice. Master and servant.

  “You’re stunning in the light,” he said. “Just like I knew you’d be.”

  Fucking me rhythmically, he leaned over and put his mouth to mine. The kiss was sweet, all soft lips and tongue, in stark contrast to the primitive force of his thrusts. The friction might have been too much to bear if it weren’t so wildly pleasurable, if I didn’t want more and more of it. I was in heat, fully open to a man as I’d never been before.

  Sliding my ankles from his shoulder, he tore off the linen strip and tossed it aside. Then he freed my hands, kissing each palm as he untied the knots. “Spread your legs,” he said. “All the way.” Without waiting for me to comply, he grabbed my knees and pushed my legs apart. He stared lustfully at my exposed pussy, the tip of his tongue flickering over his mouth. “So pretty and slick,” he said. “Such a woman.”

  Overcome with shyness, I squinted my eyes shut.

  “No,” he said, taking my face in his hand. “Don’t do that. Not with me.”

  “But the light...can’t we turn it off?”

  His lips turned up faintly. “If you could see yourself the way I see you, you’d want it brighter.”

  A deep flush spread over my neck and chest. I wasn’t used to such dramatic compliments, or so many in one night. “I love looking at you,” he said, pressing his rigid tip against me again. “Fucking seems to make you even more beautiful.”

  He watched my face as he slowly pushed his full length into me. My lips were trembling, my cheeks feverishly hot. I gasped his name and his eyes took on a devilishly aroused look. “Do you like the way I feel inside you?”

  “Too much,” I whispered, sliding my hands over his hard chest.