I couldn’t say no. The most I could do was stall the inevitable.
“It’s a lot to think about,” I said.
“Is it? You’re here less than a week, Sophie. A blink of an eye.”
“I’m supposed to be in Paris for research and sightseeing,” I said.
He smiled as if this were the easiest problem in the world to solve. “Then we’ll sightsee. I have nothing planned tomorrow. Do you?”
“Not yet,” I admitted.
His face brightened in a charming, almost innocent way. “Then we’ll be tourists. We’ll see it all – Notre-Dame, the Eiffel Tower, Saint-Germain-des-Pres. We’ll wait in monstrous queues and take lots of pictures.”
I smiled. “I’ll buy a bagful of awful souvenirs to take home. The cheaper the better.”
“And when we’re finished I’ll do unspeakable things to you. In fact, I don’t think I can wait.” He kissed me, grabbing my hips tightly and setting my nerves on fire.
I put my palms against his chest. “Not here. Anyone could see us.”
“Let them.”
“No,” I said, pushing him away. “We can go back to the apartment or I’ll go back alone. Your choice.”
Eyes glittering like chrome, he raised his eyebrows. “This is going to be quite a challenge, I see.”
“Of course it is,” I said, sliding a safe distance away. “Isn’t that why you want to do it?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The second we stepped into the apartment, Marc backed me hard against a wall and covered my mouth with his. It was the first time we’d been truly alone, with no one else to hear or discover us.
Still kissing me, he dropped his jacket to the floor and pulled off his tie, letting it fall onto my right foot. “I’ve waited all week for this,” he said. “Every minute since you left.”
“How did you know it would happen?” I asked as he trailed his lips down my neck.
“I didn’t. That’s what drove me fucking crazy.”
He was so hard, I gasped just touching him through his pants. A deep, animal groan sounded in his throat. There was no one to save me now. No escape. Not even a safe word to make him stop.
“I’m afraid,” I whispered.
“I know,” he said, taking my face in his hands. “I can feel it.”
“What if I don’t like it?”
“You will. It’s who you are.” Taking my hand, he led me down the hall to the bedroom. He switched on the light and lowered the dimmer to a cool, gray glow.
“Do you need anything?” he asked. “Water? A glass of wine?”
“No,” I said. “Nothing, thank you.”
While he’d seemed driven and impatient in the foyer, here he was calm, in effortless control. He kissed me, then took a few steps back and watched me. When I moved toward him, he shook his head.
“Stay still,” he said. “Just like you are.”
I stood with my eyes cast down, feeling his gaze sweep over me. A minute went by, maybe two.
“Take off your watch and jewelry,” he said softly.
I did, setting them on the nightstand.
“Sit on the bed,” he said. “Eyes closed.”
I sat on the edge of the mattress and shut my eyes. There was a long moment of silence followed by the sound of a drawer opening. I felt Marc’s fingers smoothing my hair and then, the cool slipperiness of silk across my eyelids.
“A blindfold?” I whispered.
“Yes. Now everything you experience will come through me. Without sight, all of your other senses will be more intense.” He wrapped the blindfold around my head and knotted it, careful not to pull my hair.
“What color is it?” I asked.
“Red, of course.” His voice was deep and smooth, the only sound connecting me to the world.
“Why of course?” I asked.
He traced the hollow of my throat with his fingertip. “Because red is the color of sin,” he said. “Stay still. I’ll be back.”
I heard him leave the room and return a minute later. There was a brief rustling as he knelt in front of me. I flinched against the feeling of something cold and sharp on my skin.
I pulled in a quick breath. “What is it?”
“It’s all right,” he said.
I heard a quiet tearing and felt my dress begin to loosen from my breasts. He was cutting the dress off with scissors, slicing it brutally down the front from neck to navel.
Though I shivered, I said nothing. I had to know what would happen next. Would he cut the dress through to the hem, or make me stand so he could remove it? Make love to me while it lay in tatters on my back? Had he planned this while buying it, imagining mutilating it later while I sat in front of him?
The steel blades slid along my skin, snipping through the center elastic of the bra, the panties, and finally, the skirt of the dress.
“Stand,” he said.
“But –”
“Do it.”
Reluctant as I was, I stood up. I’d known exactly who Marc was when I came here. I couldn’t be surprised that he expected me to obey his orders.
As I got to my feet, everything fell in a soft rustle to the carpet. Except for shoes I was naked, without even earrings to hide behind. My skin quivered with a hot wave of fear.
“Beautiful,” he muttered. “Don’t move.”
I stood for what felt like ages, arms at my sides, trembling and unsteady on my narrow high heels. I could see nothing but tiny white spots on the insides of my eyelids. Dizzy and disoriented, I reached out but there was nothing to hold onto. My stomach clenched at the thought I might fall.
“Marc? Are you there?”
“Right here.” He picked me up in his arms and laid me on the bed. His touch released my fear, sending waves of excitement through me.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “You’re safe.”
“Am I?”
Instead of answering, he bent over and put his warm, soft tongue deep into my mouth. Feeling his lips bruise mine, I ran tentative fingertips over his face, shoulders, and chest. He was still fully dressed, making me feel even more naked and vulnerable. A minute later I heard a zipper and a belt unbuckling. “On your knees for me,” he said.
I did the best I could blindfolded in five-inch heels, on a bed so large I had to feel around to find the edge. “Like this?”
“Perfect.”
I could tell from the heat coming off his skin that he was standing in front of me. I reached out to touch him but he lightly pushed my hand away. “Not without my permission, Sophie.”
“But I can’t see. I was just –”
“Please wait for my instructions. You agreed you would try.” His tone was testy and sharp.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I want you to fellate me until I’m satisfied, and then I’m going to fuck you while you kneel. If you’re very good, I may let you come. Now give me your hands.”
“Why?” But I already knew why. He was about to take away what little freedom I had left.
I raised my fingers to the blindfold, desperate to get my bearings. I didn’t recognize this woman on her knees, defenseless in an unfamiliar apartment. She couldn’t possibly be me.
“You’d like to remove your blindfold?” Marc asked.
I hesitated, my fingers on the tight silk knot. “Maybe. I’m not sure.”
“Keep it on,” he said. “It’s a matter of trust.”
“But I hardly know you.”
He tsked away my concern. “You know me better than you realize. No one’s seen this side of me in a long time. Only you.” He lowered his voice and switched effortlessly into French. “Nous ne voyons pas les choses telles qu'elles sont, nous les voyons comme nous sommes.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, my heart pounding against my closed eyelids.
“We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are, Sophie. Do you understand? Fears are paralyzing. This kind of pleasure is possible only if you let go of your expectations.”
<
br /> “I’m trying.”
“I know.” He sat beside me on the bed and began stroking my backbone. “You should see yourself in the moonlight,” he said, and kissed my bare shoulder. “You’re like something from my fantasies.”
Even now I could hardly believe his compliments were for me. “The woman in your fantasies would know what to do.”
“No, Sophie, she wouldn’t. She’d be acting exactly as you are right now.” The bed creaked slightly as he lowered himself to the floor. “Let’s begin a little differently,” he said.
“How?”
“I want you to focus on what you feel. Okay? Deep breaths.”
With a long inhale, I tried to relax. At first I felt only his warm hands on my lower legs. Then his lips were on my feet, slowly kissing my toes, my ankles, the silk straps of the shoes. “I’ve imagined this a thousand times,” he said. “Strapping your feet into sexy shoes and worshipping them.”
He lifted my feet and placed them in his lap, pressing my insteps against either side of his huge erection. “Squeeze them together,” he said.
When I did, he moaned in response. The sound bypassed my brain and went straight to my very deprived pussy. “Again,” he said. “Harder.”
After a few moments of rubbing me against him, he grabbed my ankles and pushed me roughly back onto the mattress. Positioning each sharp heel against the edge of the bed, he spread my legs wide, his hands circling each of my thighs. He kissed the sensitive skin just above my knees, moving up unhurriedly, softly biting until I could feel his hair against my hip.
“Every moment you were gone I thought of this,” he said. “Blindfolding you, tasting all that pretty wetness between your legs.”
Knowing what was about to happen, I suddenly felt intensely exposed, as if I were standing naked in a roomful of strangers. “I haven’t done this very much,” I admitted.
He chuckled softly. “Good. I like that.”
“Wait, Marc, please? Maybe without the blindfold –”
I tried to sit up but he eased me back down. “No shyness, Sophie. Give me everything, your thoughts along with your body. No secrets.”
“Okay.”
“Say it.”
“No secrets,” I said. My voice was thin and breathy.
“That’s right. So open yourself for me. Show me how incredible you are.”
Wincing, I parted my legs even further. At the first touch of his mouth, my modesty drifted to the back of my mind. The pointed tip of his tongue dipped into my wetness, then its full, magical strength rasped over my swollen clit until gasps ripped from my throat. Pleasure flared like an out-of-control blaze through my belly. He nipped my ass cheeks before devouring me again, sucking the sensitive flesh as if he loved nothing more than my taste.
So this was what a real lover was like. No inhibitions, no worries, just pure, hedonistic pleasure.
The flat of his tongue was against me, scorching and slick. Muscles tight, I panted. I was so close to coming it seemed impossible to stop now. Even if he pulled away, I would fall from the cliff into bliss.
But then he raised his head and slipped two fingers inside me, stopping the orgasm just before it began. It was all I could do not to pound my fists against his back. “No, Marc, please…”
“First you want me to stop, then you want me to continue,” he teased. “I have a very confused little pleasure hound on my hands.” He kissed along my bikini line, swirling a finger between my legs in exquisitely slow circles. “You’re very responsive,” he said. “Not difficult to please at all. Every other man you’ve known must have been a bumbling fool.”
Kisses growing fainter, he drew away from me. I was too weak to move, all of my blood pooled in my abdomen. My entire body still throbbed for him, and when I felt his arm around me raising me to a sitting position, I clung to him with tears stinging my eyes.
It was too much. Too intense, too frightening, too intimate. But I couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop, even if it was the right thing to do.
“Here,” he said gently, and I felt the edge of a glass against my lips. “It’s water.”
I drank, my teeth aching from the cold. When I was finished he wiped my mouth with the tips of his fingers. They smelled of me, my perfume and my dampness. I heard him put the glass on the nightstand. When he spoke again, his gentleness was gone.
“Kneel down, Sophie. On the floor in front of me.”
Heart racing, I knelt slowly beside the bed, knowing what it meant.
Grabbing my wrists, he put my hands on his erection. “Now suck me,” he said, his voice raspy. “Take all of it.”
“But it’s too big,” I whispered.
“Yes, it is,” he said. “And you’ll learn to like it that way.”
I hesitated, afraid of disappointing him or losing my nerve. But when I parted my lips and took him in my mouth, I felt so wanted that my shyness vanished.
I had done this to him. Cold, frigid Sophie Quinn had made Marc Brayden’s amazing cock as hard as ice.
Holding my head firmly, he groaned and tangled his fingers in my hair. As he’d promised, my other senses were more vivid than ever. Against my tongue he was warm velvet, slightly salty and intensely male. I was shameless, opening my throat as I’d done only in fantasies, feeling the soft heaviness of his swollen balls in my palm. With Trevor I’d dreaded oral sex, giving him a few licks with my eyes closed while fighting an embarrassing revulsion. I’d thought something was wrong with me because I didn’t want him more. That I was asexual because I’d rather take a bath than spend another minute with him in bed.
But tonight, there was nothing I wanted more than to fill my mouth with Marc’s rock-hard shaft. The faster he moved his hips, the more aroused I became, until I thought I might come just from the sound of his guttural moans. I loved seeing how every little movement affected him. Extra pressure made him inhale sharply, while sucking his tip gently made his thigh muscles stiffen under my hands.
Just when I thought he’d be the first man to come in my mouth, he slowed and pulled away. “You’re much too good at that, Sophie, but I want this to last a lot longer. Lie on the bed for me. Raise your arms above your head.”
Taking his hands, I got unsteadily to my feet and lay back on the duvet. The drawer opened again, and I felt something smooth and cool against my wrist. “What is it?” I asked.
“Rope. Hold your hands apart, about six inches.” I could almost feel his focused concentration as he tied me. He took his time looping the rope around and between my wrists, then knotted it securely to the headboard.
“It feels tight,” I said, whimpering a little. Strips of linen were one form of claustrophobia, but rope was quite another.
“This is the thinnest rope I have and it’s more than adequate. Another benefit of your delicate bone structure, besides beauty. I think it’ll be very comfortable.”
I squirmed, bunching the covers under me. “But it’s not comfortable at all.”
“Because you’re fighting it. Give it time.”
He stroked my hair in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. I swallowed and let my hands go limp.
“Is it getting better?” he asked.
Though my heart still beat like a trapped bird, his touch was soothing. “I’m not sure. I think so.”
“I knew it would.” He ran his hands lightly over my breasts, waist, and hips. “Look at you, so much shape. A real woman. No one would mistake you for anything else.”
Lowering himself over me, he kissed my neck and breasts, stopping to flick his tongue against each of my hard nipples. I writhed under him, barely able to breathe from the pleasure. I’d never felt so anxious, or so wildly turned on.
“It’s like you’re wired for me,” he said. “All this time you’ve been waiting for me to find you.”
“Maybe I have been,” I whispered.
“There’s no maybe about it.” He licked across my stomach, his hair trailing lightly on my skin. My pussy clenched as he licked lower. Any thoughts of the wisdo
m of my actions were banished by an excitement so strong I couldn’t fight it. After hours of anticipation, I was almost frantic for him.
“I saw it in your eyes when we met,” he said, pushing my legs apart and raising my knees.
“What did you see?”
“That we were alike. That you understood me, even if you didn’t know me yet.”
He rubbed the tip of his massive erection across my clit until my legs were quivering uncontrollably. “You like that,” he said. “I remember.”
“No one’s ever done that to me before,” I said.
“Maybe you’ve never come with a man because you’ve always been with boys,” he said. “I’m not a boy.”
No, he wasn’t. He was so powerful that I was almost glad to be blindfolded when he finally entered me, taking me as if my body had always belonged to him. He moved slowly, every thrust thicker and deeper than the last. “Am I big and hard enough for you tonight?” he whispered. “Big enough to make you come?”
“Yes,” I said, arching up toward him. “Please make me come.”
“I will,” he said. “When you’ve learned your lessons.”
“But I’ve learned them.”
“No, you haven’t. This is just the start.”
“I’ve done everything you’ve asked tonight. I’ve been –”
He slapped my face and I gasped with shock. “If you continue to argue, I can do it harder,” he said. “It’s up to you.”
Bastard. Fiery blood surged through my veins. Was I excited or did I despise him? Or both? “Why did you do that?” I asked, my voice breaking.
“To remind you who’s in control. You needed reminding.”
I tried to shake my wrists loose but the rope held tight. “That hurt.”
“No, it surprised you,” he said, sounding amused.
I gritted my teeth. Damn him to hell for being right. “Well, I didn’t like it.”
“Didn’t you?” He kissed my jaw and began moving inside me again. His deft fingers lit sparks across my nipples. “Not even a little?”
Descended (The Red Blindfold Book 1) Page 11
