by Linnea May
A loving smile flees across his face when our eyes meet. His hair is still gelled and in order, just as it was at the beginning of our date. He still looks spick and span while I have turned into a crumbling naked mess under his touch.
“This is not fair,” I whisper, dreamily staring at him.
He raises his eyebrows. “Not fair?”
“What did you do to me?” I ask.
“I told you,” he replies. “I know what I want - and I know how to make you give it to me. Today, I wanted to see you come until you faint. I wanted to see you lose control, see your eyes roll back into your head and your body spasm with pleasure.”
I have no words to reply to that.
“Seeing you like this only adds to my pleasure,” he continues. “Seeing a girl break under your touch is the most beautiful thing you can imagine.”
“You want to break me?” I ask.
He smirks and leans over to plant a little kiss on my cheek.
“A little, yes,” he whispers. “But don’t worry, you’ll want it, too.”
I gulp and try to fathom his words. The drug like fog that has dampened my conscious is beginning to clear and I am beginning to feel in control again. It is as if a part of me - the sane and rational part - has temporarily escaped my body and is now making its return, accompanied by threats and warnings.
His words are sweet, but also oddly scary.
“I knew I should be careful with you,” I say.
He shrugs. “Yes, be careful. It might be for the better.”
“You should know, though,” I add. “Whatever you’re trying to do, it won’t work with me.”
He smirks at me. “No? What do you think I am trying to do?”
“You just said it! You want to break me. You want to make me lose control. But that’s not what I do. I don’t lose myself to guys. Never.”
His smile broadens. He pulls me in closer, wrapping his other arm around my waist and pressing my naked body against his as he claims me with another kiss.
His kisses are so greedy, so possessive - and irresistibly hot. I cannot help but moan and squirm as his tongue invades my mouth. My body and mind are fighting a battle that is well known to many - and that the mind is bound to lose.
Fuck, why is this so hot. Why is he so damn compelling.
I am panting helplessly, desperate with longing when he releases me.
And of course, he is displaying that triumphant little smile I have come to loathe so much. So freaking handsome. It drives me mad.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I know you’re hard to conquer. It only makes me want to break you more.”
Well, great. Exactly what I wanted to hear.
I clear my throat and adjust myself, gently pushing him away from me, as he is still holding me in a tight grip. He lets it happen, but not without giving me another smug smile.
“Why are you saying these things?” I ask. “Wanting to break me, to make me lose myself. Why are trying to get into my head so much, when you made it clear that you’re not looking for a relationship?”
“A relationship in the common sense, yes” he clarifies. “I don’t want you to do my laundry or stand next to me while we’re washing the dishes. But if you are to become my sub, you will be mine in a different sense.”
He pauses and gently strokes my cheek with the tip of his index finger, while I look up at him in anticipation.
“Be yours, huh,” I whisper.
“Yes,” he confirms. “You would be mine. Mine to take care of, mine to please, mine to spoil - and mine to punish and-”
“Pff, you are pretty full of yourself, mister,” I interrupt, laughing at him.
He stops moving for a second, his index finger still resting on my cheek. I hold my breath as a weird tension is filling the air between us. His smile has disappeared and he looks at me with that stern, unyielding face again.
Uh, oh.
Just as I am about to apologize for my sassy statement, he bends down, pulling me in close with one arm while he uses the other push my face to the side, exposing my neck to him.
I yelp in surprise when his teeth find my skin and he starts sucking and biting on the lower side of my neck.
“No!” I object. “Stop it! It hurts!”
Instead of letting go, his bite intensifies causing tears to run down my face as I try to process the unexpected pain and confinement he is putting me through. My body is convolving beneath him, trying to get away from his unyielding grip, but instead of winning leeway, I just get pinned down even more. He uses his entire body to keep me in place while continues to sink his teeth into my skin.
I have gotten hickeys before, but none of them ever hurt as much as what he is doing to me right now. And I am pretty sure, this is not about giving me a cute little love mark.
I am whimpering and shaking by the time he finally lets go of me. His grip around me loosens, and instead of breaking free and away from him, I just lie there, panting as my muscles relax and my body is processing the aftershock of his bite.
He plants a soft kiss on my tortured skin. I flinch, which makes him smile with accomplishment.
I would never admit it to him - or anybody else - but I am pretty sure that my center is damp. God dammit.
“Don’t interrupt me,” he says. His voice is soft and loving, in total contrast to his brute bite. “And don’t make fun of me. Do you understand?”
I bite my lips and narrow my eyes as I look at him. The spot on my neck is burning and there is no doubt that this will leave a visible mark that won’t be easy to hide. Oh, the mocking I will have to endure from Yuka tonight…
“Yes, Sir,” I utter, suppressing any smart ass remarks to tease him.
I cannot explain why, but all I want to do right now is to hug and kiss him, asking for forgiveness and showering him with affection.
The throbbing pain in my neck feels as if he has injected me with poison. Some kind of potion that only makes me want him more.
That makes no sense at all, Nicky, my conscious warns. He just hurt you, he silenced you with a painful bite into your neck!
“Good girl,” he whispers. The way he looks at me now is so different from before. I see nothing but affection and appreciation in his dark eyes.
I want to be close to him and curl up in his arms.
So I do it.
I roll over and shyly wrap my arm around his upper body. He welcomes me by putting his arm around me and placing his hand at the back of my head to gently push my face into his chest.
I sigh in relieve. There is place I would rather be right now. I have never felt this safe. This feeling of belonging - it is unfamiliar and scary, but so fucking great.
My conscious needs to shut up for just a few minutes. I want to enjoy this without questioning any of it for now. He feels great, he smells good, and he makes me feel like a god damn queen - even with his bites.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
I know I can only say it, because he cannot see my face right now. I am hiding in his soft pullover, feeling his muscles beneath the fabric and closing my eyes.
This feeling of transparency is eerie. He knows how I feel, I don’t have to tell him. He can see all of it. That damn battle I am fighting. He wants me to feel like this and he enjoys it.
But right now, he is not taking the chance to mock me for it, to show his triumphant with a smug smile. I cannot see his face, but I know that he is not deriding me at the moment.
He is comforting me.
His hand caresses the back of my head, stroking through the thick and wild strains of my hair that are ruffled up from our play and my desperate fight.
“It’s okay,” he whispers.
I smile. Recovering in his arms is surprisingly easy. What he has done to me can be seen as vicious attacks, both, the multiple orgasms as well as the painful bite to punish me.
But I took it. Oddly enough, I feel strong and accomplished, as if have earned some kind of reward or climbed the next step o
n to a bigger achievement.
I release myself from his hug, putting some distance between us and look up at him. Just as I thought, there is no triumph, no sovereign grin on his face that would make my inside boil with fury and shame. If anything, his faint smile conveys care - and a little worry.
“Why did you come to the club that night?” I ask. “You said you have never been there before. Why that night? Change of pace?”
He shrugs. “Yes, in a way. It has been a while since I have been to places like that one. With good music, cheap drinks and real people.”
“Real people?” I ask.
“You were right about some things you said that night,” he explains. “Your prejudices may not be fair and a little narrow-minded, but they are not completely wrong.”
He pauses, visibly enjoying the view as I put on a triumphant smile.
“Elaborate,” I say.
“The success I have had by doing the things I love has vaulted me into a world I never wanted to be a part of,” he continues. “And you are right, there is a lot of superficiality, a lot of boring cocktail party events, an indefinite amount of pointless small talk and people who are so uninspiring that I feel as if they drain my vital energy. Which they probably do. They are like zombies, brain eaters. So empty themselves that they need the energy and creativity of others to feel alive.”
“And you are one of those who feeds them?” I ask.
He laughs. “I know, that must sound arrogant to you. But as you have already pointed out correctly: I am pretty full of myself.”
I smile. “You really are.”
“In all honesty, I just wanted to dance,” he adds. “I wanted to be surrounded by noise and a little filth and people who don’t feel the need to impress me, because they have no idea who I am and what I do.”
“I felt pretty stupid when I saw that article about you…”
“It only made me like you more,” he whispers while gently caressing my cheek with the tip of his finger. “The fact that you had no idea who I was only added to my interest in you. And your sassy comments. God, I wanted to spank that bratty attitude out of you right then and there.”
“Well,” I say. “It’s not like you really tried to blend in. You looked so out of place with your business outfit. And I didn’t see you dance at all either.”
“Habit,” he says, shrugging. “It’s not easy to get out of it once you have been accustomed to it for so long. And besides, I don’t like rugged jeans and crappy t-shirts with juvenile logos. I never have. Wanting to be surrounded by a certain atmosphere and certain people does not mean that you have to do everything to blend in. I have never been fond of adapting mimicry behavior just to be on the safe side.”
“Safe from what?” I teasingly ask.
“Safe from sassy little girls who dump their insecurities and prejudices all over me, because they feel like they know everything there is to know by just looking at me,” he replies.
“Insecurities, huh?”
“Yes, little girl,” he says. “Whether you like it or not, you are an open book to me, revealing everything that is beautiful about you - including the things that need to be reassembled. You will have to let me take care of those as well, if you really want to be my submissive.”
I blush and feel strangely exposed. His words feel as if he just stripped me naked all over again.
“What do you-”
“Hush,” he interrupts me. “For now, I need you to do something else for me.”
CHAPTER II
Before I can ask what it is he wants me to do for him, he pulls me in for another kiss. His lips meet mine with gentle curiosity at first, but soon ask for more. He greedily claims me, pushing his tongue inside my mouth with intrusive force while keeping me in place with his strong arms.
I give in all too willingly. Yearning moans accompany the heavy breathing of our passionate kiss.
His hand wanders along my torso, skimming over my belly as he moves further down. I shiver when his fingertips travel across my mound until he reaches my center. A nudge against the inside of my thighs orders me to spread my legs for him, which I do obediently.
I moan loudly when he parts my folds and slowly reaches between them.
“Good girl,” he whispers, interrupting our kiss. “So wet and ready for me already.”
He observes me as I convolve under his touch, moaning and squirming as his fingers skillfully play with my wetness. He deliberately disregards my most sensitive spot, only caressing my clit here and there, seemingly on accident - and every time he does, I welcome it with a desperate moan, begging for more.
“I need to know one more thing,” he says. “Before we both lose our clear minds again.”
“It might be too late for that already,” I breathe with a hoarse voice.
He shakes his head. “I need to know if I can fuck you bare. Are you on birth control?”
Oh, I did not expect that question.
“Of course I am,” I reply. The thought only relying on condoms has always seemed too risky for my taste and I have been on the pill pretty much since I started showing any interest in boys.
“And is there anything else I need to worry about?” he asks. “You don’t have to with me, I can assure you.”
“No,” I reply. “I am as clean and healthy as can be, Sir.”
A broad smile appears on his handsome face.
“Great,” he says, leaning forward to plant passionate kisses along my neckline. “I want you. All of you. I need to fuck you with nothing between us.”
The only reply I can think of is a desperate moan. I close my eyes and throw my head back with pleasure as he continues to kiss and lick alternating spots on my neck.
“I love how responsive you are,” he whispers. “How willing and ready to serve me.”
His words make me blush and only add to my arousal. I strongly hope he will fuck me this time. He has to.
He withdraws his finger, leaving me with a yearning sigh as he moves it up to his face. I almost explode with embarrassment when he licks my juices off of them, moaning with relish.
“Delicious,” he comments. “Your taste is divine.”
I gulp, unsure whether I should thank him for that unusual compliment or not.
“But you know,” he adds. “You already had your turn. This one is for me. Stand up.”
He lets go of me and beckons me to get off the bed.
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper and obediently follow his command.
“Wait here,” he says as I place myself standing next to the bed, looking at him with anticipation.
He gets up and walks past me. I hear him rummaging around, opening drawers of the dresser that is standing behind me. Again, I wonder how often he uses this room. I still don’t see any luggage or personal belongings lying around, but if there is stuff in the dresser’s drawers, that must mean that he lives here. Sort of. Sometimes, maybe? He must have a real home, too.
I wonder if I will ever see it.
“Put your hands together in front of your chest,” he says. “As if you were praying.”
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper and comply.
He shows up in front of me, holding a piece of black rope in his hands. He casts me a quick smile, before he starts binding it around my wrists, skillfully tying them together with elaborate knots. He is good at this and has clearly done it before. I adore the cute and intense face he makes while he is concentrating on the knots he is tying.
“Good?” He asks. “Not too tight?”
“No, it’s perfect,” I reply.
There is still a good length of rope left. He holds it in his right hand like a leash as he slowly takes two steps back to look at me.
“There’s so many things I want to do to you,” he says, casting me a naughty smile. “Rope suits you. You will need more of it. And we need something for your neck, too. Don’t you think?”
I am pretty sure that the only answer that will not get me in trouble right now is “Yes, Sir�
�, but it is not the one that is on the tip of my tongue.
“Something around my neck?” I ask. “Do you want strangle me?”
He smirks. “No, silly girl. Leashes suit you - but they belong on a collar, right?”
“A collar?” I ask, blushing. I know very little about these things, but what I do know is that a collar can come close to a wedding ring between a Dom and his sub.
“We are nowhere near that,” he adds as if he can read my mind. “But maybe someday.”
He pauses and looks at me with that stern, intense face. His look makes me shiver and causes my heart to skip beats. It feels like a warm but threatening grip, mesmerizing and paralyzing me at the same time.
I love it. I would do anything for him right now. No questions asked. Seeing him happy and pleased with me would be the greatest satisfaction I can think of right now.
“Would you like that?” He asks. “To be collared by me?”
“Yes,” I reply. “Yes, Sir. Very much.”
He smiles. “That makes two of us. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. For now, you follow me on this.”
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper with a dumb smile on my face.
He turns around and leads me to the window while I follow like a puppy on a leash, with my hands tied in front of my body. I startle when he does something unexpected: He opens the curtains!
We are on the 26th floor, very high up and higher than most buildings surrounding the hotel. Most, not all.
I instinctively take a step back from the window as the light of dawn hits me. I feel so exposed, as if a thousand eyes are glued on me at once.
He chuckles as I try to seek safety by hiding behind him.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I don’t think anyone can see you up here, little girl. The windows reflect too much, especially when the evening sun hits them like it does right now.”
He turns around to face me. The sun illuminates him from behind, giving him the contradictory impression of an archangel or some other holy apparition.
“You’ll be safe as long as you are with me,” he whispers. “Do you trust me?”
