by I. T. Lucas
The relief his words brought about was so profound that it made her feel lightheaded. She wanted to laugh, or cry, she wasn’t sure. Instead, she buried her face in his T-shirt.
“But.” Brundar put a finger under her chin and lifted her head, his pale blue eyes boring into hers. “It’s gonna be my way—with you tied up and blindfolded. Are you okay with that? Because that’s not negotiable.”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. Definitely yes.”
His lips twitched. “Aren’t you going to tack on the ‘sir’?”
Callie straightened her back and saluted. “Sir! Yes, sir!”
“Good. Now let’s eat. I’m starving.” He rubbed at the flat expanse of his stomach.
“How about we take our dinner to the dining table? The steaks deserve a more formal setting than the counter.”
“No problem.”
Brundar helped set the table, while she arranged the steaks on a platter and tossed the salad with some olive oil and lemon juice.
A bottle of mango-flavored vodka, a container of lemonade, and a bottle of Chivas completed the setup.
“Thank you for the Scotch.” Brundar pulled the bottle closer to him. “What are you going to do with the vodka and the juice?”
“Mix them, of course. The recipe says one shot of vodka to two shots of lemonade, but I double on the lemonade. As you’ve noticed, I’m a very light drinker.” She reached for the vodka.
He grabbed the bottle with a speed that seemed almost unnatural. “Let me mix it for you.”
“Oh, I forgot the mint. I’ll be right back.” The drink wasn’t the same without that last finishing touch.
When she got back, she dropped the leaves inside the drink he’d mixed for her, and for the next few minutes, they ate in silence.
Watching Brundar eat was fascinating. He was so methodical and precise. Every cut was the same size, and each forkful of salad had the same precise combination of lettuce and tomatoes. She wondered what it said about him. Was he as meticulous in everything? Was the apartment he shared with his brother pristine?
“You never told me your brother’s name.”
“Anandur.”
“Can you tell me a little bit about him?”
Brundar halted with a piece of steak speared on his fork. “Imagine the opposite of me and you get Anandur.”
Callie smirked. “You mean ugly, short, and talkative?”
That got a smile out of him. “You got the talkative right. If you want a rumor to spread at maximum velocity, tell it to my brother. He isn’t ugly or short. He is bigger than me and covered in way too much crinkly red hair. Beard, mustache, legs, chest, he looks like a Viking.”
She would've liked to meet Brundar's brother. Anandur sounded like fun. “Is he in the same business as you? Personal protection?”
Brundar nodded. “We work for our cousin, the big shot businessman with the butler.”
That explained how they got to share the guy’s vegan meals. If they were his bodyguards, they were spending a lot of time with him.
“Your cousin is smart to employ family. I’m sure you guys are more dedicated to his safety than some random security firm.”
Chewing, Brundar nodded again.
“Why does he need bodyguards? Does he conduct business in Third World countries or other dangerous places?”
Brundar hesitated, taking a moment to formulate his answer. “Sometimes. His dealings are confidential. I can’t share details.”
That was reasonable. “What about your parents?”
“When Anandur and I moved to the States, our mother remained in Scotland.”
“What about your father?”
“Fathers. Anandur and I had each a different sire. They died a long time ago.”
Sire was a strange way to refer to one’s father. It sounded like a sperm donor. Maybe it was a cultural thing, and all Scots referred to their fathers as sires? She wondered if Brundar’s mother had been widowed twice.
“How is she doing? Did she get married again?”
Brundar finished chewing. “She was never married. Anandur and I are both bastards.”
Callie’s hand flew to her chest. “Oh my God, Brundar. What a nasty thing to say. Why would you talk about your brother and yourself like that?”
He shrugged. “It’s the truth. Nothing nasty about it.”
“You can say that you’re a lovechild, or that you were born out of wedlock. You told me yourself that words have power. Why use a derogatory term like that?”
He pinned her with his pale eyes. “When I was growing up, those euphemisms didn’t exist. We were simply bastards.”
That had to have been another cultural difference. No one called children born to single mothers bastards anymore. She found it hard to believe that things were all that different in Scotland.
“Did you grow up in some small mountain village?”
Brundar dropped his fork, his eyes hardening, and his pale, austere face darkening as if night had descended above his head. “How did you know?”
“Just a guess.”
There was a story there, but Callie sensed it was better left alone.
Chapter 52: Brundar
Calypso was asking too many questions. At first, Brundar tried to humor her, telling her details that revealed no dangerous secrets or even hinted at them, but enough was enough. He wasn’t comfortable talking about himself, especially not about his childhood. It was a subject best left buried.
“Why do you keep your hair so long? Not that I don’t find it beautiful and sexy, I do, but it’s uncommon. You don’t strike me as a guy who likes to attract attention to himself.” She chuckled. “Though I don’t think you could avoid it even if you shaved your head bald. You’re strikingly good-looking.”
She'd gotten that right. Even without the hair, his good looks had been the bane of his existence, but no more. No one could touch him. No one could get close enough to hurt him. He dared anyone to try.
Brundar put his fork and knife down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Thank you for dinner, Calypso. It was very good.” He pushed his chair back to lounge more comfortably.
“You’re most welcome.” She rose to her feet and collected her plate, and then reached for his.
He caught her wrist. “Leave it.”
She looked up at him with questioning eyes.
“Put the other one down too.”
Without taking her eyes off him, she did as he’d asked. Under his thumb, her pulse sped up. Her breaths became shallow.
Brundar grabbed her other wrist and pulled her onto his lap. Transferring both into one hand, he threaded the fingers of his other one in her hair and kissed her—the taste of the sweet drink she’d had with dinner mingling with her own sweetness.
In moments, the scent of her desire permeated the room.
It didn’t take much to arouse Calypso. She was the most responsive female he’d ever been with. Brundar wondered whether it was his effect on her, or had she responded the same way to others.
Her husband had been her first, but that didn't mean she hadn't snogged with others before him.
Had other males touched her intimately before she’d surrendered her virginity to that asshole?
Had she responded to any of them with such lustful abandon?
One thing Brundar knew for certain: No other woman had ever affected him the way Calypso did. He couldn’t conceive of her responding to anyone else the way she responded to him.
Jealousy washed over him like hot acid, scalding, scarring, blurring his vision.
As his fangs punched over his lower lip, his venom glands pulsing with venom, he tightened his grip on her hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck. The need to bite her, to possess her, was overwhelming—a primitive urge he fought with every last bit of reason he had left.
Thousands of years of civilization were no match for the powerful animal instinct gripping him. A less disciplined man would have succumbed.
“Cl
ose your eyes, Calypso,” he hissed.
She tried to turn her head and look at him, but he tightened his grip on her hair until she whimpered. He let go. “Don’t argue. Keep them closed.” He used his most commanding tone. Her obedience was not negotiable this time. She couldn’t see him like that. He’d already thralled her once today; another thrall so soon might cause damage.
“Yes, sir,” she breathed without a shred of mocking in her tone.
Letting go of her wrists, one arm around her waist and the other under her thighs, he lifted Calypso as he pushed to his feet and carried her to her bedroom.
“Keep your eyes closed, and don’t move,” he reminded her as he laid her on top of the comforter, face down.
“Okay,” she murmured, sounding a little scared.
He didn’t want her afraid of him, but right now it was better that she was. It would keep her from trying to peek at him, which would force him to thrall her again if she did. He treasured her mind even more than he treasured her trust. He could regain the latter, but damage to the former was irreversible.
Rummaging through her drawers, he found a silk scarf in one and an unopened hosiery four-pack in another.
He blindfolded her first, then helped her out of her clothes.
“Back on your stomach, sweetling,” he commanded when he’d divested her of the last article of clothing.
Sitting naked on the bed, her sight obscured by the colorful silk tied around her eyes, one leg folded under her delectable ass, Calypso worried her lower lip. “Do I have to?”
Stocking in hand, Brundar paused, letting it dangle from the bedpost he was tying it to.
But before he could make up his mind, she continued. “I can’t see you, and you’re going to tie me up so I can’t touch you either. Can I at least have the intimacy of chest to chest?”
In a last ditch effort to keep up his crumbling shields, Brundar had planned to keep intimacy to a minimum, but he couldn’t deny Calypso her request. “You may.”
Exhaling a relieved breath, she lay down on her back and stretched her arms over her head.
Spread out before him, trusting him, she was all woman, perfect in every way, and all his. He had to spend a moment just drinking in the sight of her. “You’re beautiful, Calypso.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” He wrapped a stocking around one wrist, tying it loosely so she was comfortable, then repeated with the other. Stroking the inside of her arms, he went all the way up to her bound wrists then entwined their fingers. “I left a lot of give in the bindings. If you really want to, you can get free. The ties are meant as a reminder to keep your arms up.”
She nodded and let out a breath, the little trepidation that still lingered in her expression vanishing.
Good. Brundar wanted her aroused and hungry for his touch, but not afraid.
He kissed her parted lips, sliding his tongue for a quick taste before getting up to continue his work on the other side. Wrapping his palm around one slender ankle, he pulled it sideways and secured it in place with a stocking, then did the same with the other one.
Spread-eagled, pliable and obedient, Calypso was a wet dream come true. For the next hour or two, this beautiful, strong woman was going to give herself over to him to do with as he pleased, trusting him with her pleasure.
Was there anything sexier than that?
Nothing compared to this.
His prowess as a fighter and a swordsman were legendary, but his prowess as a lover who could bring a woman to the highest possible ecstasy was what Brundar prided himself on most. It didn’t matter that none of his clan members would ever know this about him. It was enough that he knew. And now Calypso would know that too.
Like a master musician, he tugged at the strings until he found the right combination of touch and pull to bring the most out of the particular instrument he was playing. Because no woman was the same as another, and each deserved her particular code deciphered.
Just like his swordsmanship, it required singular focus and dedication, prohibiting the intrusion of any rumbling thoughts about his disturbing past or his uninspiring future.
Except, Brundar had a feeling that all his prior performances were nothing but practice runs, preparing him for the masterpiece that was Calypso.
Chapter 53: Callie
Callie might have been deprived of sight, but she could sense Brundar watching her. For long moments he just stood at the foot of the bed.
What was he thinking about?
Was he admiring his handiwork?
Was he admiring her?
Callie wasn’t shy, but she wasn’t an exhibitionist either. She had a healthy body image, knowing she wasn’t too thin or overly padded, nor was she flabby or overly muscular, and even though her proportions weren’t perfect, they weren’t bad either. With the right clothes and the right bra, she could hide the fact that her butt was too scrawny and her hips too boyish in proportion to her bust, or that her breasts were too big for her delicate frame.
Naturally, she couldn’t hide those imperfections while in the nude, but it was nothing she felt embarrassed about.
Not with the way Brundar looked at her.
Callie had never felt as beautiful and as feminine as she did under Brundar’s gaze. It was so intense that even now, blindfolded, she felt it as if it was a physical caress.
It infused her with power.
“I can’t get enough of looking at you,” he admitted.
“You can look as much as you want, touch too.” She reminded him that she wasn’t an exhibition piece but a hot mess of sexual need that couldn’t wait to be sated.
Warm and strong, his palm wrapped around her calf, the small touch sending a zing of desire straight to her center.
She was already starved for his touch, even though he’d brought her to the heights of pleasure only a couple of hours ago.
This man was turning her into a nymphomaniac.
“What’s that mysterious smile for?” he asked.
“I can’t get enough of you either.”
He chuckled. “That’s good because you’re going to get a lot of me, and I’m not sure you can handle it all.”
“Try me,” she issued a challenge.
He caressed her knee, circling to her inner thigh, his touch feather-light, stopping an inch from her moist folds and moving to her other thigh, feathering his way down.
Calypso shivered, her arms tugging on her bonds.
“You need to learn patience, sweetling. All good things come to those who wait.”
Not in her experience. “Do you actually believe that?”
Brundar’s hand stilled on her thigh. “No, I don’t. Not out there. But in here, you can bet on it.” He continued his lazy caress.
Could she?
Brundar had proven to be a man of his word. Except for the wine bottle he’d promised and must have forgotten about, he’d come through for her on every front, not asking for anything in return.
He was her savior, her guardian angel, and she trusted him without reserve—as evidenced by her current state. There was no one else she would’ve ever let tie her up and blindfold her.
It was a huge step for her. Life had taught Callie not to give her trust lightly, and lowering her shields for Brundar was her biggest leap of faith yet.
And her last.
If Brundar ever betrayed that trust, she would never give it to anyone again. “I bet on you, Brundar. Don’t let me down.”
He groaned. “I’ll make your body sing for me, Calypso, that’s a promise, but it’s the only one I can make. No entanglement, no strings.”
She stifled a smirk. “I expect nothing more.”
For now.
Chapter 54: Brundar
That was a lie.
Calypso wanted so much more from him—things he could never give her.
It didn’t matter that he’d never promised to stay or be anything other than a guide on her journey of sexual discovery. She w
asn’t the only one caught in an emotional whirlpool, either. They were both trapped and sinking fast.
When it was done, and he was gone from her life, Calypso would hurt, and so would he. But at least he would know the reason why.
She would be left wondering what she’d done wrong.
The only thing he could do to mitigate her pain was to show her that she was perfect, and teach her to reach for what she deserved.
Later, he would come up with an excuse for why he couldn’t stay—fabricate a story that would leave no room for her to doubt herself. Like a deployment to a Third World country on some secret mission he would never come back from.
She’d mourn him for a while, but eventually she’d get over it and move on with her life, secure in the knowledge that she was desirable and worthy of love.
With that plausible scenario alleviating some of his guilt and his worry, Brundar returned his focus to the naked beauty sprawled before him, her sex slick and glistening with the evidence of her desire.
He’d made her a promise that he would make her body sing for him.
It was time he delivered on that promise.
It had been so long since Brundar had pleasured a woman with her front to him and not her back that he had to stop and think for a moment how to go about it.
Calypso wanted chest to chest contact.
It seemed that he would have to learn some new bedroom skills.
Pulling his shirt over his head, he dropped it on the floor, then climbed on the bed and knelt between her spread legs.
Calypso parted her lips, her heartbeat speeding in anticipation.
He lowered himself gently over her, careful not to crush her under him as he dipped his head and kissed her.
She moaned into his mouth, wrapping her tongue around his as soon as he penetrated her mouth.
His torso still braced on his elbows, he threaded his fingers through her lush hair, cradling her head and lifting it for his kiss.
Arching into him, Calypso groaned in pleasure as soon as their chests touched. The hosiery tying her to the bed limited her range of motion, but the things stretched enough so she could rub her tight nipples against his chest.
