Spiral of Bliss: The Complete Boxed Set

by Nina Lane

  Dean spreads his hands over the top of my head, the strong weight of his palms like a beatification.

  “Okay?” he asks.

  I take a breath and nod. He waits for a minute more, as if ensuring I’m not on the verge of real fear, before slipping his hands away. His lips touch my forehead in a warm, reassuring kiss. Then cooler air fills the space in front of me, and I know he’s gone.

  A shudder rocks me. My nipples are still so hard, chafing against my bodice, my breasts full and exquisitely sensitive. I wait. And listen, straining my ears for a hint of what Dean might be up to. But all I can hear is the sound of my own breath, quick and heavy in rhythm with the beat of my heart.

  He returns, the heat of his presence tangible in the space between us. I arch forward a bit, tensing with anticipation over what he will do next. Then something sticky and sweet-smelling brushes across my lips.

  “Open,” Dean commands.

  I open my mouth. He slips something inside, and my tongue floods with the taste of sugar and gooey fruit. Cherry pie.

  “Mmm.” I bite down on the soft cherry, which is almost overwhelmingly sweet and tart, as if my sense of taste is heightened to acute levels since I can neither see nor move. I’m suddenly ravenous for more.

  Dean’s finger brushes against my lower lip, as if he’s wiping away a sticky trace. “Want another?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Open.”

  I open my mouth. He feeds me another cherry. The sweet, sugary flavor goes straight to my blood. Another bite has a bit of crust attached, the flaky pastry a delicious contrast to the gooey filling.

  “More?” Dean asks.

  “Yes, please.” I think I could eat the whole pie. I want to eat the whole pie.

  I scoot forward as far as I can to the edge of the chair and open my mouth. This time when Dean slides a cherry past my lips, I close my mouth quickly so I can suck the juices from his finger.

  He breathes out a mild curse and pulls his finger from my mouth with a pop.

  “Behave, Miss Winter,” he warns.

  I smile innocently, wishing I could see the expression on his face. He holds another cherry to my mouth. I eat a few more offerings before something different nudges at my lips.

  And I’m so awash in the taste and deliciousness of cherry pie that it takes me a second to realize it’s the smooth, tight head of Dean’s cock.

  I gasp. “Mr. West!”

  “It’s bigger than a cherry,” he remarks.

  I stifle a laugh, my heart hammering at the thought of sucking his cock without being able to touch or see him. For a second, I’m not sure I can do it, but overwhelming that uncertainty is the deep, abiding wish to do whatever he commands, to obey.

  I inhale a deep breath, curl my hands around the arms of the chair, and open my mouth. Dean’s hands settle on the sides of my head, his fingers tightening against my scalp as he pushes slowly forward.

  Oh, God…

  I have no frame of reference, nothing else to focus on except the aching throb between my legs, the silk tied around my wrists, and the glide of my husband’s cock into my mouth. I moan, wanting desperately to reach up and touch him, to grip his hips and fist the base of his shaft like I always do, but all I can do is sit here and take him in.

  Dean pauses, his breath rasping above me. I swallow and move my head forward to indicate it’s okay for him to go deeper.

  And he does. Filling my mouth with his thick, throbbing shaft. The taste of him mingles with the sweet cherry juice still lingering on my tongue. I slacken my throat muscles and close my eyes behind the blindfold, feeling his tension, the grip of his fingers on my head.

  When he starts to thrust, I’m ready for him, loving the sensation of him pumping gently in and out of my mouth. His restraint is palpable, as it always is, his care not to thrust too deep, but this time—maybe for the first time—I don’t want him to be gentle.

  I start to ease back, and he pulls out at the same instant, the head of his erection brushing across my mouth. I wish I could see it.

  “I don’t…” I swallow and lick my lips, my breathing rapid. “I don’t want you to be gentle, Mr. West.”

  “You don’t, huh?”

  “Not this time.” I squirm, wishing he would touch my breasts, rub my nipples. “I want you to fuck my mouth.”

  A groan rumbles above me. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  His hands tighten on my hair as he pushes forward again. Then the length of his cock is in my mouth as deeply as I can take him. I relax my jaw muscles and let him pull back and push forward again. He’s still gentle at first, before urgency coils palpably through his body and his thrusts increase in pace.

  And oh my God, my blood fires with bolts of heat as I sit there, hot and dripping, tied up and blindfolded with silk, unable to do anything but suck the cock driving in and out of my mouth.

  Dean’s breath is heavy and harsh, his fingers gripping my head so tightly it hurts. I struggle to take him in deeper, breathing through my nose, my wrists straining against the bonds lashing me to the chair.

  When Dean pulls away from me, releasing his hold, a sudden bereftness and fear sparks in my belly.

  “Dean?”

  “Right here.” He puts his hand on the side of my neck, the gesture both reassuring and welcome. “Okay?”

  I nod, my chest heaving with rapid breaths. I squeeze my thighs together, aching for the sensation of his cock pushing into me down there, so thick and hard…

  God. A violent shudder rocks through me.

  “Wait,” he says, lifting his hand from my neck.

  I wait again, forcing my breathing to slow. Then Dean is in front of me, his hand slipping under my chin. The cool edge of a glass touches my lips. Obediently I open my mouth. The crisp, sparkly flavor of champagne spreads over my tongue. I gulp it down too fast, and a trickle spills down my chin to my neck.

  With a soft laugh, Dean lowers his head, his faint stubble scraping my skin as he licks up the stray drops. The touch of his tongue creates a warm, swirling pool of desire in my lower body.

  Then his lips brush against mine. I draw in a breath of relief when our mouths press together in a hot, familiar kiss that reminds me exactly why I’ve always been so willing, so eager, to let this man alone take me places I’ve never been before.

  The kiss deepens, shifting from familiarity to an edgy lustfulness as Dean slips his hand down to cup my breast. A moan spills from my throat. I arch into his hand, aching for him to rub my tight nipples.

  He grabs the straps of my baby doll and tugs them over my arms, baring my breasts. I shiver—even though I can’t see, I feel his gaze traveling over my body like a touch. I wiggle a little, spreading my thighs in the hopes that he’ll slip his fingers into my pussy and stroke me in the expert, precise way of his that makes me crazy with need—

  His hands linger on mine as he works the knots of the silk ties. I swallow my questions about what’s going to happen next. He doesn’t remove the blindfold, instead lifting me up into his arms as if I’m light as a feather.

  I wrap my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist, loving the solid strength of his body as he carries me across the room. His shirt is smooth and soft against my bare skin. For some reason, the thought of him still fully dressed while I’m half-naked and clad only in skimpy lingerie is shockingly arousing. A few seconds later, he lowers me onto the bed, the comforter plush and pillowy beneath my half-naked body.

  “Don’t move,” Dean instructs, and he spreads my arms out to fasten the silk around my wrists again—this time, it seems, tying the other ends to the bedposts.

  I shift, tugging experimentally at the cloth again but the knots are as tight as they were before. I pull in a breath, uncertainty flashing through me.

  “Christ in heaven,” Dean whisp
ers, his voice guttural and hot. “You have no idea how fucking sexy you are.”

  My pulse hammers. I can imagine how I look—disheveled and blindfolded, my lingerie pushed to my waist to expose my breasts, my messy hair falling in a tumble over the pillows, my skin sweaty, and my inner thighs damp with arousal. I turn my head toward the sound of Dean’s voice, aching for the reassurance of his touch.

  The bed shifts with his weight as he moves onto it. He touches my thigh, the edge of his sleeve brushing against my skin.

  “I’m going to fuck you now, Olivia,” he says, his deep voice a wash of heat over me. “And you’re going to take my cock as deep as you can, over and over again. You’re going to twist and flex your gorgeous body as I pound my cock into your sweet pussy. You’re going to scream, moan, and beg for more… and if you’re good, I’ll give you more. Are you ready?”

  My mouth is so dry, my pulse pounding so hard, that for a second I can’t even answer. I manage to nod, straining toward him.

  “Please,” I gasp. “Sir. Fuck me. Now.”

  A faint chuckle rumbles from his chest. The mattress shifts again as he moves, his fingers adept as he strips off my panties. There’s the sound of rustling cloth before he slides his hands against my inner thighs and spreads my legs apart. Obediently, I lift my knees, dizziness washing over me when I feel his cock pressing against my spread folds.

  Oh God. Oh God.

  I’ve made love with this man countless times, but this night is so drenched in erotic fantasy it’s almost impossible not to feel as if he’s a beautiful, domineering stranger who is about to fuck me for the first time ever.

  I flex my hands, arching my hips upward. He pushes his cock into me with excruciating slowness, as if he wants me to feel every inch of his throbbing flesh. And I do. My nerves fire with sparks as he fills me, stretches me, going deeper, deeper… oh, so deep…

  I draw in a heavy breath. Sweat trickles between my breasts. He pauses, and his hands spread over my hips, up my torso to my breasts. He pinches my stiff nipples at the exact instant that he plunges all the way into me, his testicles slapping against my pussy.

  Electric currents arc through me. I whimper, aching for the exquisite friction of his thrusts, but he stills. His shaft throbs, sending heat rippling to my blood.

  “Please,” I whisper, my voice barely audible past the heaviness of my breath. “Fuck me hard, sir.”

  “I’ll fuck you hard.” His grip moves to my waist. “I’ll fuck you rough.”

  He pulls back and plunges inside me again, the rhythm edged with lust and the drive toward release. Again, I can do none of the things I would normally do—grip his arms, pull him against me, gaze into his desire-drenched eyes, watch his gorgeous muscles flex and strain. All is darkness, except for the bright, glowing light burning right in the center of my soul.

  I twist my hands so I can hold on to the silk ties as his thrusts increase in pace, jostling my body back and forth, each push and pull firing me with fresh heat. I draw my legs up, letting him go as deep as he can and knowing I can take as much as he can give.

  His breath rasps harshly in the air above me, echoing the rhythm of my own breath. He pauses once to circle his thumb around my aching clit. I moan, arching into his touch. My eyes dampen behind the silk blindfold.

  “I need you so badly,” I gasp, pulling ineffectually against the restraints, desperate to touch him. “Oh, please…”

  He pulls out of me, and I feel his fingers working at the knots of my ties. When they’re loosened, he grabs my hips and turns me around before fastening the silk back around the bedposts.

  Air brushes against my naked bottom. I tighten my hands into fists—this position has always made me feel intensely vulnerable, even at home with Dean, and now that sense of helplessness hits me harder than ever.

  I sink my face into the pillow, shivering when his big hands stroke over the length of my back.

  “On your knees, Olivia,” he orders softly.

  I swallow, pulling myself onto my knees, my head and shoulders still lowered onto the pillow. There’s enough give in the silk ties that I can rest my arms on either side of my head, but the tension pulls my muscles tight.

  “Ah, fuck.” Dean’s voice deepens with lust, and I feel the burn of his gaze on my upturned ass. He nudges his knee between my thighs. “Spread them wide.”

  Wincing, I do, feeling my damp cleft open for his view alone. His breath escapes in a rush.

  Oh, how I want to look over my shoulder and see him—all sweaty and muscular, his eyes burning with lust as he stares at my spread pussy, his cock sticking straight out and his hand stroking up and down the shaft…

  But I can’t see him. I press my face into the pillow again and wait. The head of his cock rubs deliciously against my folds before he sinks into me again with a rough groan. I shriek, my whole body jerking forward as he grips my ass and starts to thrust.

  In this position, he’s harder to take, impossibly big, his cock firing me with both need and apprehension. I grip the silk ties and struggle to take him, my head filling with the wet, smacking sound of our bodies slapping together. Cries spill from my throat with every deep plunge, my nerves blazing with heat.

  “Fuck, you feel incredible,” Dean mutters. “Like a tight, hot glove... look at how you spread your legs so well… such a good girl… so fucking perfect.”

  His words pour over me, flooding me with pleasure, lust, love. Sweat drips into my eyes. Despite the shocking sense of vulnerability, I know I could crouch here forever, letting him drive into me over and over again, but the pressure inside mounts, coiling through me like a whip ready to strike.

  “Please, sir,” I beg, turning toward him over my shoulder even though I can’t see him. “I’m so close… I need to come…”

  “You don’t get to come first,” he says, giving my ass a little stinging spank. “I do.”

  A shudder rocks through me. “Then I… oh, I want to feel it, sir, please let me. Come inside me, come on my ass… wherever you want. Whatever you want… please.”

  He plunges into me once and pulls out, and I know he’s stroking his cock. A burn scorches me as I see him in my mind’s eye, his head back and his hand wrapped around his shaft as he thrusts into the vise of his fist. His shout vibrates against my skin the instant before warm seed splashes over my ass. I moan, wiggling my lower body, desperate to escape the restraints.

  “Dean.” My voice cracks, on the verge of breaking.

  He moves swiftly to unfasten the ties and pulls me against his sweaty body, his arms coming around me in the strong, secure haven I know so well. I sink against him, panting and still aching for release. He lowers his lips to my ear and slides his hands over my breasts.

  “I love you,” he whispers, his breath hot. “You’re so goddamned beautiful you break my heart in two. I will climb mountains and cross oceans to get to you. You fill every fucking part of me, my blood, my heart, my soul. I will slay monsters for you until the end of time. And I will make you come so hard you’ll see stars.”

  I can’t speak. I’m shaking, trembling, aching. And when Dean slides his hand between my legs and rubs my clit, I explode like a rocket. A scream rips from my throat as I buck against his hand, a torrent of vibrations trembling violently through me.

  Dean’s voice is a low, deep whisper against my ear, a stream of praise filling me with as much bliss as the physical release. Tears stream down my cheeks and dampen the blindfold. I turn, pressing my face against Dean’s chest as the sensations slide from my body.

  We lie there for a long time, his arms around me, our bodies pressed together. Then he tugs the blindfold off me and brushes my hair away from my sticky forehead. I blink, momentarily off-balance as my eyes adjust to sight and light again. The bedcovers are rumpled, the silk ties tangled on the pillow.

  Dean cups his hand beneath my chin and lifts my face to
his. Love floods me at the sight of him—his beautiful, gold-flecked eyes warm with tenderness, the sharp angles of his cheekbones flushed with heat, his hair tousled and falling over his forehead.

  “Hey, beauty,” he says.

  I smile. “Hi, professor.”

  Dean kisses my forehead and pulls me to him. All thought slides away as I relax against his solid strength, and we settle together into the fluffy pillows.

  Before long my eyelids start to droop. As the haze of sleep descends, I have the fuzzy thought that I need to call Kelsey and at least say goodnight to Nicholas…

  I wake with a start, disoriented and confused until I feel Dean’s warm body next to mine. He threads his hand through my hair.

  “Midnight,” he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep. “Tomorrow is Saturday, your day off. Archer and Kelsey are taking care of Nicholas until late afternoon.”

  “Oh.” Relief washes over me, and I sink against him with a sigh. “You mean we can stay here all day?”

  “We’re going to stay here all day,” he replies, skimming his fingers down my spine. “Now that I have you, I’m not letting you go.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  OLIVIA

  OUR NIGHT IS AN ECHO OF the ones we used to spend together. We doze for an hour before pulling ourselves from the allure of sleep and back toward each other. Our lips meet lazily, I run my hand down Dean’s chest, and he tugs my bare leg over his hips. We make love again but slowly, a marked contrast to the rawness of our previous encounter.

  In a drowsy haze, the air scented with lust and cherries, I let Dean pull me on top of him and position his cock at the opening of my body. I slide down onto his shaft, welcoming the faint twinge of pain because it reminds me of how completely I’ve been taken.

  “Oh.” I lower my head to kiss him, my hair falling into a veil on either side of us, cocooning us in our own private world.

  Tension coils through Dean’s body as he grips my hips and thrusts inside me, the head of his cock hitting the sweet spot that makes me burn. I curl my fingers against his chest and ride him, feeling every inch of his stiff flesh, the exquisite friction on my clit, the powerful strength of his body beneath me.