“Of course the actual speech he makes isn’t in the book, so we have no way to know what he really said. Only that he dwelt on the consequences too warmly,” Ivan mused.
It took me a moment to absorb what he’d said. “Wait. You’ve read this, and remember it that well? I didn’t even remember the way the thing was worded in the book. Why didn’t you tell me?” I turned around and caught him smiling at me with what I could only characterize as extremely fond tolerance.
“Watch the end of the movie,” he said softly, gesturing to the screen.
I turned around, but my mind was far from Hertfordshire. This wasn’t the first time I’d had cause to wonder how much Ivan really wanted or needed the help I was giving him. But it was the first time I’d wondered whether the whole thing had been an elaborate ruse to get me to go out with him. So silly, if that was the case. I would have said yes if he’d asked. Apparently he was exactly as dumb as most guys in that respect. They rarely thought to just ask. Or they over-thought, and scared themselves out of it.
“So what’s my lesson? Since I think it’s pretty obvious we both think Darcy had a certain amount going for him in the first place,” Ivan clarified. “What makes the transformed Darcy more desirable?”
I lifted my head from his lap and thought about it. “Well, for one thing, the early Darcy was a serious drag at parties. Too busy looking for things to condemn, instead of considering ways to enjoy himself.”
“I always find ways to enjoy myself,” Ivan protested. “I usually bring a book or my computer. If I have to attend a party at all, I mean.”
He didn’t seem too put out when I laughed at that.
“But that approach isn’t going to win hearts or donations. So what did Darcy do differently, how did he change?” I stood and stretched my legs as I spoke, having honestly forgotten I was nude until I felt Ivan’s hand cupping my butt, stroking down the back of one thigh.
“Did I tell you to get up and distract me, Camilla?”
Grinning, I took a longer stretch to see what would happen. “Sorry, Professor.”
“You might be later. Darcy traded his external and internal motivations.”
“He what?” I’d been looking for an answer about being nice or paying attention to people. Ivan’s summary forced me to actually think again, when I’d already started shutting the thinking parts of my mind down for the evening.
“Turn around.” Patiently, Ivan turned me to face him, his hands on my hips, his legs sliding between mine to part them until I was practically straddling his lap. “To begin with, Darcy’s internal motivation was all for himself. How would things work to his advantage, how would things reflect on him? And he had an external locus of control. He viewed the dictates of society as forces that controlled him. If he acted a certain way, it was because society demanded that. Lace your fingers behind your neck, Camilla.”
“Huh? Oh…” I put my hands to my neck, trying to focus on Ivan’s discourse about Darcy while at the same time battling sudden, overwhelming arousal. The sexy professor voice was like an aphrodisiac to me now, I realized. God help me if I ever tried to audit one of Ivan’s classes.
“Very good. Have I mentioned that your breasts are almost perfectly symmetrical? Today at work, I couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of your nipple on my tongue, hardening as I sucked. It was very distracting. As was the thought of ejaculating all over your breasts. I like that idea very much. Would you like that?”
Guh.
“Y-yes, Professor.”
“Of course what really matters is that I’d like it. But it’s good to know what you find rewarding. Do you like the idea of being marked that way? Like territory, or property?”
“Oh God, yes.”
“It makes you wet just to think about it.”
He wasn’t making an assumption, he was testing a theory, pressing one long finger between my legs and sliding it between folds that were already slick and throbbing in anticipation of that touch. My legs were getting wobbly. I bit my lip and tried to slow my breathing.
“After he realizes his approach is ineffective, Darcy begins to see the constraints of class and social expectations as matters of choice, and he realizes that he is a free agent who must take responsibility not only for his choices but their consequences.”
“Wow. That’s a really good analysis.” How was he thinking so calmly about character development at the same time he was driving me crazy doing that with his hands?
“I don’t buy it, though,” Ivan said firmly, thrusting another finger inside my clenching channel. “I think he was just putting up a good front because it was the only way to get Elizabeth to marry him, so he could get her into bed.”
His lips grazed my belly and I swayed toward him, nearly falling into his lap but snatching myself upright at the last second.
“There’s another possible explanation,” I gasped, trying to act like I had the same control, the same degree of cool, as the man currently driving me to sweet distraction. “Darcy was shy and insecure, but when he realized he didn’t have to impress everybody and he could be himself with Lizzie, he turned out to be okay. Oh, God, do that again.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No. What’s the lesson for tonight? Wrap it up. You tell me mine, and I’ll tell you yours.”
It was hard to think with my body melting, much less talk. How I managed, I really don’t know. “What you did at the barbecue. Focus on one person at a time, get into that one person’s head. That works for you. Now, please?”
“Upstairs.”
Chapter Nine
Ivan’s bed was taller than mine, because he had it up on risers. I found out why that night when he bent me over the edge of it. It was the perfect height to support my upper body but allow me to plant my feet comfortably on the floor. This was fortunate, as I was to spend quite a bit of time in that position. As soon as I was situated, Ivan set about securing me into place with cuffs and tethers. Not very tight, as I could move my arms quite a bit and bring my legs all the way together. But I couldn’t get away, which was the main point.
“Comfortable? You’ll be there quite some time,” he said, resting one hand on my lower back.
“Yes, Professor.”
I wasn’t merely comfortable, I still had that melting sensation, like I was sinking into the bed. Boneless and accepting, but at the same time coursing with eagerness.
“On with the lesson, then.”
As he spoke, he rubbed my back gently, relaxing me even further. Then he slid his hands down, spreading my ass with one palm on each cheek and kneading until I was aching for him to shift his attention to my pussy or clit.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. It never ceased to amaze me, the things he suddenly chose to give opinions about. “Have you ever had anal sex?”
My brain made a record-scratch noise and I lifted my head like an antelope sniffing for predators. “No! Have you?”
Ivan snickered at my entry in the stupid-question-of-the-day contest. After a second, I joined him. It really was pretty stupid. Obviously he had, as if it mattered.
“Yes. And I’d like to have it tonight.”
“Oh, holy cow. Wait, is that my lesson?”
He leaned over my back, still fondling my butt, pressing his semi-hard cock against the cleft and nibbling on my neck. “Your lesson for tonight is that you’re mine, Camilla, and I can take you whenever and however I like.” He slid his tongue around my earlobe, pulling a chill from me, chuckling when I pushed my hips back into his. “I can have you on your knees, servicing me with your mouth. I can spread your legs and fuck your pussy whenever the mood strikes me. But tonight…”
He paused, nipping harder against the taut muscle that led from my jaw to my shoulder. The hint of pain made a delicious contrast with the unexpected dirty language Ivan was indulging in. When I groaned, charmed beyond sense at the combination, his lips curled against my skin. “Tonight I want to teach you to take my cock in your ass li
ke a good little slut. Because I’m in the mood, and it’s time you learned that your ass is mine to fuck, just like your pussy and your mouth.”
Evil. Pure unadulterated evil, this man was. His voice and hands were clearly agents of some dark, seductive force that caused me to do things I would normally never have considered. Because when he said all that, it sounded like the best idea in the world. Really, I could hardly wait. Except that I was still a bit—
“Scared,” I confessed, despite the fact that I was grinding my hips back into his body in a steady, needy beat. “It’ll hurt.”
“So does paddling,” he reminded me. He moved his hands down a bit and used his thumbs, stroking my slick lower lips apart and dipping between them. “This doesn’t really have to hurt as much as you’d think. Not if it’s done right. I assure you I will do it right, because I want you to enjoy it so you’ll let me do it again. I’ll go slowly, and I’ll do a lot of prep work.”
“’Kay,” I mumbled into my arm, resisting the urge to beg so early in the evening. “Prep work?”
He stood and pushed away from the bed, leaving me chilly again from the loss of his heat. I heard fabric rustling, and the drawer to the bedside table being opened, and some other noises I couldn’t identify. I knew better than to try to turn around and look, however.
What was more, I didn’t want to look. I didn’t need to. I wanted the surprise, the shock and apprehension dissolving into pain and pleasure. I wanted to accept whatever Ivan chose to do. To submit to it, absorb it. Not mindlessly, either, despite how brainless with pleasure he often made me feel.
He called it taking, but I felt as though he were giving me these things, these actions, like pieces of himself. Challenging me to receive these odd gifts, because they were all he had to give. His attention, his regard. His respect, which was the strangest thing of all, because I had expected to feel degraded at some point in all this and instead I felt valued beyond measure. Cherished. Strong.
“Professor?” I couldn’t hear him, but I sensed he was still there in the room behind me.
“Yes, Camilla?”
“I need you,” I whispered. A last-minute alteration from what my mind had first supplied for me to say. It was way too soon to say that other thing, to even think that.
“You’ll have me soon enough.” His voice was calm, reassuring. I basked in it. “Do you want me to tell you the plan for the evening, so you’ll know what to expect?”
“No.” I was vaguely bewildered to hear myself sounding so insistent. “I don’t. I trust you.”
I could hear him approach, feet padding softly on the carpet. Then the warmth of his thighs against mine, his stomach leaning in over my lower back again. Skin to skin, against my back—he had taken off his shirt, but his jeans and the warmed metal of his belt buckle scuffed against my legs and ass.
“I know you trust me, but you said it was scary, too. Are you saying you want to be surprised?” He sounded a little dubious.
“I’m saying…” I struggled to frame it in words, this incoherent jumble of feelings and desires. “I trust you. And I want to just be here and accept whatever you choose to do to me. I want to—to give that to you.”
A moment of thick silence followed my words, enough time for panic to knock on the door. Then I heard Ivan sigh, a long, shaky exhale, and the next thing I knew he was leaning over me again, first kissing my shoulder and then biting there as though the kiss weren’t enough.
“Camilla, you…my God,” he whispered against my skin, his voice sounding oddly strained. “Sweetheart, do you even know? You’re so perfect and you don’t even realize.”
The endearment seeped into me like a touch, warming me as much as his body did. “Did I say a good thing, Professor?”
“Oh, you said an amazing thing. Tonight I’m going to make very, very sure you know how much it means to me.”
Words left me as Ivan’s hands started wandering, his mouth not far behind. He covered me with touches and kisses, always teasing away from the most sensitive areas, chuckling cruelly when I protested. Soon I was the opposite of relaxed, every nerve ending alive, every muscle taut with anticipation. I was already wound up so tightly, I felt I might climax from a single touch or word.
When he dropped to the floor behind me, nipping and licking the tender backs of my thighs, I spread my legs shamelessly and tried to wriggle closer to him. He laughed and pressed my hips to the bed, pinning me easily. Soon his knees were nudging my stance wider still and I felt his breath, scorching hot against my pussy as he tightened the straps at my ankles to keep me from closing my legs.
My next attempt to move earned me a sharp pop on the back of one leg. “Be still.”
I obeyed, biting back a moan of frustration. It felt too good, I wanted to argue. Nobody could possibly be still for that. Instead I breathed out slowly, forcing myself to settle into the bed once more.
He rewarded that effort with a lick, then another, and then a muscular curl of his tongue into my slit and out again. That wasn’t his destination, though. He slipped a finger into my pussy like a placeholder and slid his tongue higher, skating over my perineum before executing a lazy circle around the tightly puckered opening that was his objective for the evening.
Whatever I might have expected, the reality was something entirely new. He had played a little there with his fingers before, but this time Ivan licked and teased at my ass, awakening nerve endings I hadn’t even been aware of. He flicked his tongue over the opening, a shocking delight, then brought his conveniently slick finger into play. When he started to work it into the tiny, resistant hole, slow heat shimmered over my back until I felt like a bed of living coals, waiting for a single breeze to fan me into flame.
It dawned on me at a certain point that Ivan clearly knew more about that part of my anatomy than I did. He seemed to know exactly where to push and where to stop. The first tight band of resistance yielded when he kept his finger inside the rim and licked around the perimeter, pressing with his tongue until my muscles submitted and relaxed to allow the intrusion. Then that finger pulsed in and out, in and out, a fraction of an inch deeper each stroke, as his clever tongue meandered down to tickle my clit.
By the time Ivan’s finger was buried to the last knuckle, I was so close to an orgasm that my pussy was clenching in tiny spasms of want. For a moment, I thought he might even let me come. And then he pulled his finger out, prompting another hot rush of sensation over my back and legs, and backed away again. I heard a click and a squirt, then Ivan spoke again.
“You’re very tight, Camilla. I’m glad I picked this up the other day, I thought it might come in handy.”
Something cold, slippery and much larger than a finger pressed against my rear. Ivan used the fingers of one hand to spread me and add more lube, as he gently but insistently pushed into my ass again.
“This plug isn’t quite as big around as my cock, so it’ll be a good intermediate step. No, sweetheart. Be still.”
I had started to grind mindlessly against the edge of the mattress, my need beginning to crowd out any other considerations. At Ivan’s words I stopped, trembling with the effort it took. He nudged the plug a little deeper, straining the snug ring to the edge of pain before retreating a little. And then another nudge, insistent and steady, gaining a little ground.
Apparently recalling my positive reaction to his earlier unprecedented display of skill at talking dirty, Ivan began to narrate. “Your ass is starting to stretch. It’s opening up to take the plug, just like it’ll take my cock later when I’m ready to fuck you. I’ve imagined this, you know. So many times. Tying you down so you can’t get away, getting you so excited your pussy is soaked. Flogging that butt until it’s hot and pink and you’re begging for an orgasm. Begging for my cock. And then only letting you come when I’m finally fucking your tight little ass.”
I groaned, and then gasped as the plug finally popped past the tightness and seated itself inside me. It burned a little, but that subsided quickly
into a naughty, buzzing heat as Ivan continued to pet and praise me.
I could have wallowed in that state indefinitely, but he had other plans. This time, after he left me, he told me to watch him. I turned my head, craning my neck until I could see him over my shoulder in the semi-darkness. When he was sure he had my attention, he unbuckled his belt with seductive deliberation, pulling it from his belt loops one at a time and then doubling it over in his fist.
Sweet Jesus.
I closed my eyes, unable to watch anymore as he brought his arm back for the first swing. The leather whistled a little in the air, and the blow cracked like gunfire, louder than I was expecting but not hurting quite as much as I’d feared. A deep thud, leaving a sting in its wake. And then another, and another, until my entire rear end was burning like hellfire over a deeper, restless ache.
Until Ivan pressed his hands to my hips and told me to settle down, I hadn’t realized I was moving. To get closer to the belt or to retreat from it, I honestly couldn’t have said. I had lost track of the swings, the smack of the leather against my skin, as the individual blows were lost in the greater picture of pain and anticipation. Wet, I felt so wet, throbbing between my legs with the need to be filled, fucked, taken. The first brush of the Professor’s fingers over my mound brought me right to the edge of orgasm and stranded me there, crying literal tears of frustration, as he took his time removing his pants and donning a condom.
Was it mercy or cruelty that he slid into my waiting pussy and thrust deep, balls slapping against my clit, once again taking me so close to climax I could taste it? Cruelty, I decided when he stopped moving after only a few thrusts. Definitely cruelty.
“Please…” I wailed, yanking against the wrist restraints.
“Shh.”
More cruelty. He began to manipulate the plug inside my ass, twisting it, pushing it in and out to stretch me even further, until I stopped straining against it each time it entered me again.
He pulled it and his cock out at the same time, and I was too far gone even to struggle or protest the loss. And then he pressed the head of his cock against the still-tight clasp of my ass, slicking more lubricant onto himself before snapping the bottle shut and lobbing it onto the bed where it bounced in front of my face, an unexpected focal point.
The Theory of Attraction Page 12
