Chapter Thirty
Eliza searched his face, and he wondered what she was looking for. He didn’t know whether to hope she found it or hope she didn’t.
She moistened her lips, her teeth scraping across the bottom one. “Will you catch me when I come down?”
“Always.” He didn’t even have to think about it. If she’d let him, he’d spend the rest of his life setting her free and being her safe place to land.
“Now,” he said, letting a hard edge creep into his voice. “I want you on the weight bench—naked, facing the door with your legs spread.” He ignored the catch in her breath. “And I want you edging the entire time. Don’t you dare let yourself come. Tonight, you only come with my permission.”
She tried to nod, but he still had hold of her hair. “Yes, Sir.”
He released her and jerked his head toward the door. As soon as she left the room, he rested his palms against his desk and took several slow, steadying breaths. She’d said she loved him. And he believed her, but it still felt tenuous, like the connection they had could fray and snap at any moment. Not because it wasn’t real enough or strong enough, but because she didn’t trust that he could love her for simply being who she was. Somehow, he’d figure out a way to prove how wrong she was. But for right now, he had to clear his head and sharpen his focus to give her what she needed.
Keeping her needs in the forefront of his mind, he moved to the bookcase. He took a key from inside an R2-D2 mug then turned and unlocked the old trunk he’d found in the attic after he’d purchased the house. He’d had it restored to house his toys—including the new things he’d ordered for Eliza that had been delivered a few days ago. Lifting the lid, he removed the new pinwheel, several bright-colored paraffin candles, a lighter, and a condom. Since she’d said she’d never experimented with wax play, he’d imagined it almost constantly. From hooks inside the lid, he grabbed a flogger and rope.
Normally, he’d enjoy engaging in this kind of play in a club with better furniture than a weight bench, but given Eliza’s limits of anything even remotely exhibitionist, he was sure that was off the table. Besides, what she needed more than anything was to get out of her head. He could do that just fine from where they were.
Steeling himself, he paused outside the room where he’d told Eliza to wait. In the silent house, he could hear the sounds of her ragged breathing. He stepped into the doorway and drank in the sight of her sitting on the bench.
Her skin was flushed all over and slightly sweaty—strands of her hair clung damply to her arms and shoulders. Her legs were spread wide, feet on either side of the seat. The insides of her thighs and the vinyl were both slick with her juices. One hand spread her vulva, and the fingers on the other slid up her wet slit to circle her clit before delving down into her pussy. As he watched, her hand trembled and slowed, then finally stilled.
“Did I tell you to stop?”
She looked up, her face damp with exertion. “Had to,” she panted. “The way you’re looking at me...too close—too close to coming.”
“Continue.”
She drew a shuddering breath. “Yes, Sir.”
He walked around her and laid his tools on the dresser, her head turned slightly as she followed his motion.
“Eyes forward,” he snapped.
She stiffened then moved her head. Picking up the coil of rope, he stood next to her, watching as she slowly fingerfucked herself.
Squatting, he murmured, “You can do better than that, little bird.”
She bit her lip and moved her hand a bit faster.
“Add another. Show me how much you want my cock.”
She whimpered. “I do.” She added a third finger, and her eyes fluttered closed on a groan. “I want your cock, Sir. Please.”
“Deeper. Show me how much that tight little cunt can take.”
She fucked herself deeper and faster, her hips rocking to meet her thrusts, and his prick wept at the sight.
“Please, Sir,” she begged. “I can’t keep going.”
He reached out and caught her wrist, stopping her movement. Holding firm to her, he gently tugged her hand from her slick pussy and brought it to his lips. Waiting until her eyes were on him, he sucked her fingers, one by one, into his mouth and licked them clean.
When he was finished, he glanced between her legs. Her bare cunt was slippery and swollen, and he wanted nothing more than to sink inside her and lose himself. Reaching between her thighs, he dragged his fingertips through the wetness on the bench then brought his hand to her lips. She opened her mouth and drew them in, sucking away the moisture.
He pulled away from her sweet warmth and stood, letting the silky rope trail up her back as he did. Leaning down, he adjusted the back of the seat, raising it a bit so she wouldn’t be laying completely flat when he tied her to the support bars. He wanted her to be able to see exactly what he was going to do to her.
“Scoot back.”
He waited while she got into the position he wanted then motioned for her to give him her arm.
“You remember your safeword?”
Eyes wide, she nodded.
He tightened his grip. “Eliza?”
“Yes, Sir,” she breathed.
He wrapped the rope around her wrist, and a sigh of relief escaped her. As he secured her to the support bar, her eyes fluttered closed, a small smile teasing the corners of her mouth. Those tiny little reactions made it clear to him how much she craved this. How much she needed it. He moved to the other side and fastened her other wrist.
Dragging the rope along the center of her body, he knelt and coiled it around her ankle then around the leg of the bench. He passed the rope beneath it and secured her other ankle to the other side.
When he was finished, he stood and surveyed his handiwork. His cock leapt in his jeans at the sight of her lying there, wriggling helplessly against her bindings. But she wasn’t frightened, that much was obvious. Even someone who’d never seen her before wouldn’t attribute her squirming to anything but arousal.
He reached for the flogger then dragged the leather fronds through the valley of her breasts and over her stomach, but he pulled it away before it came too near her pussy. Her eyes flew open as she cried out in frustration. Stepping closer, he swirled the leather around the taut points of her nipples. She tried to arch into the contact, but each time she reached the limits of her bonds, he pulled the flogger away.
He teased her until she was begging—begging for any touch he’d give her. Without warning, he lifted his arm and brought the flogger down sharply across her breasts, drawing a startled shriek from her. He did it again, watching as she tried to lift into the stroke.
“God, yes!” she hissed.
Moving around her, he let the leather fall over her body. Her stomach. Her waist. The inside of her thighs. Her pussy. Pink lines rose on her flesh, flaring brightly against her skin. She thrashed and cried out as he smacked her cunt over and over.
“Please, I can’t hold ba—”
“Come for me, little bird.” He spun the flogger in a rapidly tightening arc, increasing the speed but varying the impact. “Show me how you fly.”
On a scream, she broke, shuddering and crying. He let the flogger fall from his hand as he dropped to his knees. Stripping off his shirt, he leaned over the bench and slid between her thighs, needing to feel her skin against his.
He drew his tongue along her cleft, loving the way she jerked under his mouth, her lash-reddened flesh hot against his lips. Sweet and tangy, her arousal burst on his tongue, and he groaned, shoving inside her, drinking her down. He’d never tire of her taste.
Climbing up her body, he drew a taut nipple between his lips, sucking at the heated flesh before switching to the other side.
“Are you going to fuck me, now?” she asked hopefully, barely remembering to tack on a “Sir” at the end.
He pulled off her nipple with a pop and shook his head. Reaching toward the dresser, he felt around until he found what he wa
s looking for and closed his hand around the handle of the pinwheel. She gasped when she saw it, and he slowly began running it in ever-tightening circles around the already sensitized skin of her breast, inching ever closer to her nipple. As he ran the prongs over her areola, her breath caught, and her nipple stabbed upward into the hardest, tightest point he’d ever seen. He nearly moaned at the thought of dripping wax all over her sensitive flesh.
Creeping backward, he ran the metal wheel in patterns over her belly, moving nearer to her sweetly swollen cunt. Her thighs trembled as he drew closer, and her pussy was practically dripping with her cream.
“Look at you. Look how pretty you are, and you’re just gagging for this aren’t you? Wanting to feel it against your cunt?”
She nodded drunkenly. “Yes, Sir. Please, Sir.”
He ran the tiny metal teeth over her vulva, unable to hide his pleasure at the way her body jerked as if he’d brushed a live wire across her flesh. He did it again, and she cried out, begging for more. Christ, she was so fucking beautiful the way she gave herself to the experience—to him.
Greedy for more, he spread her lips and traced the wheel up and down her juicy slit while she quivered beneath him.
He dragged the damp spokes over his lower lip. “Think we should see what this feels like on your tender little clit?”
She shook her head, her hair clinging to her damp cheeks. “Nooooooooooooooo,” she wailed.
He studied her face for a moment then shrugged. “You know how to stop me.”
But she didn’t say it. He knew she wouldn’t. She wanted it too badly. He could see the hunger in her eyes.
Chapter Thirty-One
Eliza shivered as Angus gently tugged back her clitoral hood and exposed the swollen bundle of nerves beneath. His dark eyes were hot on hers, making it hard to swallow—or, hell, even breathe—as he lowered the metal pinwheel toward her clit. Just the barest of touch of the spokes sent an electrical current shunting through her body.
“Did you come?” His dark, disapproving tone sent shameful desire slithering through her to coil low in her abdomen.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head. “No, Sir.”
“Good girl,” he breathed the last against her pussy, and her hips jerked upward, pushing across his chin and mouth. She moaned as his whiskers chafed her delicate flesh, but she wanted more. She raised her hips again, but this time, he chuckled and stood, giving her no friction. Nothing to rub against but air.
She turned her head, straining her neck to follow his progress through the room. Standing at her side, he popped open the button at the waistband of his jeans. His cock strained so hard against his fly, she wasn’t sure he’d be able to get it unzipped. It was a struggle, but he managed, shoving his damp underwear down below his balls.
Her mouth watered as she watched him slowly stroke his cock, spreading around the thick beads of pre-come, slicking up his shaft. She swallowed hard, keeping her eyes on him the entire time, wishing he’d shove his cock in her mouth.
A mischievous smile played around his lips. He knew exactly what she wanted. And the gleam in his eyes told her she wasn’t going to get it. Though, he did take pity on her when he pushed his sticky fingers past her lips and let her suck them clean, his salty-sweet essence coating her tongue.
She whimpered when he pulled free. And that whimper turned into a gasp when she saw what he’d grabbed from the dresser. He slipped a lighter and condom into his pocket then spun a long purple taper candle between his fingers. Straddling the bench, he stood over her and teased her nipple with the soft cotton wick. To her hypersensitive skin, it might as well have been made of burrs. Her back arched as she tried to get more contact. She needed to come so badly. It probably hadn’t been that long since she’d orgasmed from the flogging, but she was insatiable where he was concerned.
He roughly jacked his cock. “I’ve been imagining this since that first night. It’s going to be a fucking miracle if I don’t spend all over your tits.”
Moaning, she shivered almost violently, picturing him coming on her, covering her skin with his hot, sticky semen. He reached out and pinched her nipple.
“Like the idea of that, do you?”
She nodded.
He raised an eyebrow then reached out and pinched her other nipple. Harder.
“Yes, Sir,” she choked out. “Though...I’d rather have both,” she admitted.
“Both?”
“I’d rather have you fuck me, then come on me.”
His eyes closed, and his fingers tightened around the base of his cock. He took a slow, deep breath, his nostrils flaring. When he finally opened his eyes, he stared down at her, his dark gaze molten. “You may just get your wish, lass.”
A silvery strand of pre-come dripped from the engorged head of his cock, catching the light and her attention. Opening her mouth, she strained forward, as far as her bindings would allow. Her stomach flipped with anticipation as he angled his shaft toward her then stepped forward, pushing the slippery knot of flesh past her lips. His flavor filled her mouth, and she groaned, swirling her tongue around him and drawing on him as much as she could in this slightly awkward position.
“I love the way you struggle for me.”
She tongued his opening, and his cock jumped in her mouth, leaking more fluid across her tongue. She sucked harder on him, but he pulled free. And when she fought to reach him, he placed his hand in the center of her chest and shoved, holding her against the seat.
“I could just leave you like this, you know.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he laid the candle across her lips. Despite the fact that he’d been holding it, the wax was cool against her skin. And smooth, she noticed, as he rolled it across her lips and chin.
Seemingly satisfied that she’d stay put, he straightened and backed up a few steps, fishing the lighter from his pocket. Waiting until he had her full attention, he lit the candle. Together, they watched as the wick caught then burned down to the wax, liquefying it.
Goosebumps rose on her skin, tightening it. It wasn’t that she was frightened, really. Just a little nervous. Maybe apprehensive was a better word. But she trusted Angus. Her belly fluttered wildly as a smile curved his lips and he tilted the candle. She startled, letting out a little squeal as the first drop of hot wax hit her, landing between her breasts. A burst of heat and pain stung her skin, fading slightly as the wax cooled.
He searched her face for the longest time, then let another drop fall on the inner slope of her breast. And another and another as he inched closer to her nipple. The nearer he got to her rapidly contracting peak, the more frantic her breathing became until each breath turned into a sharp little gasp. Just when she thought he’d drip the wax over the tip, he reversed direction and splattered her other breast with the heated purple droplets.
Moving his arm again, he trickled a line down her stomach and lower but not quite reaching her mound. Frustration and anticipation tensed her body as he dribbled heated rivulets down the insides of her thighs. Her legs shook, and a scream strangled in her throat.
“What was that, lass?”
“Nothing,” she bit out.
“Hmm...” he said, letting a near-steady stream of melted wax slide down the crease between her leg and her groin.
“Oh, god!” She squirmed wanting to get away from the pain but, at the same time, wanting more.
“I could watch you wriggle all day.” He moved his arm in seemingly random patterns and let the wax fall where it would until, suddenly, his hand was above her nipple again. “Such sweet little berries,” he murmured.
She screamed as the hot wax hit her taut flesh. The stinging heat shocked her, pulling the tip still tighter. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the sight of the dripping purple wax slowly engulfing her nipple.
“More,” she begged. Both breasts ached, heavy with need. “More-please-more.” He made as if to blow out the candle, and she rushed to add, “Sir! More please, Sir.”
A satisfied expression settled over his features, and he targeted her other nipple. The first drop stung, and he slowly lowered the candle. The heat increased with every drip. The wax didn’t have as much time to cool before it hit her skin. It hurt, but she loved it. She loved it almost as much as she loved the feral expression on his face as he left a tingling purple trail down her body.
Gripping his cock, he backed up a little farther as he continued dribbling the wax closer to her pussy while she writhed beneath him, begging and pleading with him to cover her with it.
“Fuck me,” he breathed as he spattered her mound.
She bucked up so hard the bench shifted, and everything started to slide away. The room, the vinyl beneath her sticking to her damp skin, even the thrashing motion of her body and the sound of her own gasping cries. There was nothing but the pain of the wax and the fierce intensity in his gaze. The heat of his torture and the heat in his eyes bound them together. The wax struck her clit, and the fire streaking through her body stole her voice. All she could do was tremble and silently beg for more.
And he gave it to her. Liquid fire splashed against her pussy, adding to the wax that already hardened against her flesh.
“Please, Sir. I can’t—I can’t hold back. I can’t—”
He tilted the candle again, adding another layer of pain—another layer of bliss. “Fly for me.”
She strained against the rope as she flailed, her body rioting, her throat sore from screaming. Sinking into the feeling, she reveled in the pain until pleasure lashed at her, battering her relentlessly as her coiling muscles snapped and her release ripped through her. The drowning feeling flipped, and it was as if she’d burst upward until she was floating, completely weightless and untethered.
When she finally came back to Earth, Angus was gently stroking her. He was breathing nearly as hard as she was, and his expression was almost pained. “I need you to see how fucking beautiful you are.”
For a minute, cold panic choked her, and she was afraid he was going for a phone or a camera. Instead, he blew out the candle and laid it on the dresser, then he crossed the room and shut the door. She blinked, and her surroundings came into better focus, including the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the door. Angus squatted behind her, reaching around the bench to stroke her sides and resting his head against hers.
Rewritten (The Bound Series Book 7) Page 20
