Endless - Manhattan Knights Series Book Three

by Sienna Parks

  She throws her head back and covers her face with her arm. “This is exactly what I’m talking about! Are you going to run me a bath, help me completely naked into the bath, and then act like there is nothing between us? I don't generally go around letting guys see me naked, and letting them get me off, when we’re ‘just friends.’”

  “Stop. I told you we will continue this, after. Don’t make me repeat myself.” My tone leaves no room for question, or a smartass reply. I lift her into my arms and stride down the hallway and into the bathroom, where I set her down on the countertop. She pouts as I start the water running and pour some bubble bath into the stream, but when I turn around, she’s not playing fair.

  I watch, mesmerized, as she pulls her T-shirt over her head, and discards it. Next, she tugs at her pajama bottoms, shimmying her butt on the counter until she gets them loose and lets them drop to the floor. She is completely naked, except for the bandage around her ankle, and I’m fighting every urge in my body right now, but I can’t ignore the tight, uncomfortable feeling in my pants as my dick strains against the denim. She looks incredible; every inch of her body is perfection. You can tell she’s a dancer, a vessel that moves with effortless grace as the music flows through her.

  I don’t say a word. I simply walk over to her, lift her foot and place it gently against my chest, caressing her slender calves as I slowly and carefully remove the bandage. Her skin is bruised and swollen, and I can see that even this small movement is painful for her. Holding her foot for a moment, I’m aware that she can feel how fast my heart is beating under her toes.

  I carry her over to the tub, her arms holding tight around my neck as I try not to react to the exquisite feel of her naked body under my fingertips. She scents me as I lower her into the water, our eyes locking as we acknowledge the current passing between us; flowing from her skin, to mine. I place a chaste kiss on her forehead before I let her go, sitting with my back against the tub, my arms resting on my knees and my head resting on edge of the bath.

  Vittoria starts running her wet fingers through my hair, simultaneously arousing me and relaxing me. I close my eyes and give in to the conflicting sensations.

  “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. Why do you keep pushing me away?”

  “There is no simple answer to that.”

  “Well, answer me this. Why did you sleep with me last night?”

  I take a deep breath, her fingers still tangled in my hair as I begin to speak. “Honestly? Because I couldn’t have left you lying there alone, looking so fucking beautiful, even if I wanted to. Whenever I’m around you… I can’t explain it. I need to be near you, to touch you, feel you, even if it’s just my arm around you as you sleep. That’s why I tried to stay away.”

  “I don’t get it. Why do we need to stay away from each other? Because of the way Carter reacted? Even he admitted that he blew the whole thing way out of proportion. You feel the same way as I do, so why can’t we give this a try?”

  “You know why. You know what I’m into, what I want in a relationship. We…” She cuts me off.

  “We’re perfect for each other. I do know exactly what you want, and I can give you that. You have to have figured it out by now… that I’m a…”

  “Don’t say it, Vittoria. Please, for fuck’s sake, don’t say it.”

  “WHY?”

  I turn to face her, distress evident on her delicate features. “Because, I’ve known you forever, I’ve been in love with you from the moment we met. You’re Carter’s sister, and I’m pretty sure he has an idea that I’m into ‘kinky shit’ as he would call it. If we were together for real, eventually he would do the math and murder me for corrupting you. It doesn’t matter if you want it, he wouldn’t see it that way. You guys are my only real family, and when I fuck things up between us again, which I would, because you are far too good for me, I would be left with nothing. No family, no best friend, and most importantly, you wouldn’t be in my life anymore. I’ve been there before, and it tore me apart. I don’t think they would afford me anymore chances.”

  “That won’t happen.”

  “You say that now, but I don’t exactly have a great track record with the people that are supposed to love me more than anything in the world. I can’t risk it. I can’t risk hurting you again, or losing you for good. This past year has been the worst of my life. Please, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I’m trying to be the good guy here. I’m trying to do what’s best for you, and what I can live with. Don’t think for a second that this is the easy way for me. The easy way would be if I didn’t give a shit about how badly I could hurt you in the long run. The easiest thing would be for me to take you to bed, tie you down, and fuck you until your voice is hoarse from screaming my name and begging for more.”

  “Then take the easy way, Logan. It’s what I want.”

  “Aren’t you listening? If I do that, then you’re mine. I won’t let you go. You’d be my sub, and I’d be your Master. You would have all the power in our relationship, and when the day came, and it would come, when you decided to walk away, I would be left an empty husk; a shell of a man. I would lose everything, and I can’t live through that again.”

  “But…”

  “ENOUGH! You asked, I answered. I’m sorry that I’ve given you mixed signals, that’s my own weakness at work. I won’t let it happen again.” I get up off the floor. “I’ll leave you to your bath. Call me when you need help getting out. I’ll be in the bedroom.” I walk out, hearing her quietly cursing under her breath as I close the door behind me.

  I have so much pent up energy and anger as I pace her room, my whole body vibrating; the smell of her perfume lingering in the air, taunting me as I fight to be the good guy… for her. I ball my fists at my sides, singing the lyrics to the first song that comes into my head, to try and distract myself, but I end up grabbing one of the pillows off the bed and beating the shit out of it. As if that’s going to make me feel better in any way, shape, or form! What would make this all better, is if I could shackle Vittoria to my St. Andrew’s Cross, spank her for pushing me almost to my breaking point, and then fuck her into next week.

  “Ouch… Shit… Logan… I need help getting out of the bath.” I can hear the reluctance in her voice, but I can’t blame her. I take a few deep breaths and try to prepare myself for dealing with a hot, wet, and very naked Vittoria, but it doesn’t matter worth a shit when I open the door and see her lying there, the bubbles all but gone, her body on display.

  “Fuck.” I scrub my hands over my face before grabbing a towel and making my way over to her. “Hold on tight, I don’t want to drop you.” As I lift her out of the water, the tiny, sexy little groan that escapes her is too much. I pull the towel around her and take her into the bedroom. Once she’s safely on the bed, I quickly search her drawers to find something for her to wear. She’ll look sexy as hell in everything she owns, so I pick the first top and shorts I can get my hands on and give them to her, before striding out of the room. I can’t even steal a look at her, or I’ll crack.

  “I’ll check on you in a bit.”

  After finding my overnight bag still in the living room, I retreat to the guest room for an hour, spending half of that time in the shower, shamelessly taking myself in hand, over and over again. It’s not something I do very often; I prefer to get my subs to do that for me, but today is different. No matter how many times I jerk off to the image of Vittoria naked in the bath, or laid out on that table in Verona, it isn’t enough. I’m still rock-hard and desperate for her. Eventually, I give up and give in to the fact that I will be spending the next few days uncomfortably hard, with no real way to relieve the tension.

  Now, I’m lying on the bed, wondering when I became such a pussy. I’m a Master for God’s sake! Yet, here I am, hiding from a woman I want to fuck more than anything in the world, jerking off like a teenager, and sulking because she’s mad at me for trying to do the right thing. It’s pathetic! I would tear Xander and Carter to shreds
for this kind of behavior, and I’m the worst offender by far. I purport to exercise complete control, and it’s a joke. From the moment I stepped over that line with her, my life has been in utter disarray, and whichever way I turn, whatever I do, I’m making a mess of this… whatever this is.

  I decide to catch up on some emails, and call the boys to see how they’re settling in at the new apartment before I check on Tori. They really lighten my mood, going crazy over every little thing about their new place, and New York. I don’t think they’ve even been to bed since I left them yesterday; too pumped to calm the hell down and get some rest. I try to convince them that they have a huge week ahead at the studio, and that they absolutely need to have some downtime, but I can hear a few of them in the background, arranging the rest of their day in the city that never sleeps! It makes me laugh, but it also reminds me that I have other responsibilities, and I need to get my head back in the game.

  An hour later, and I think I’ve composed myself enough to go and see if I’m still public enemy number one. I don’t hear any noise in the living room, or coming from her bedroom, so I figure she’s sleeping, but when I push open the door, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

  Holy fuck!

  Her eyes meet mine. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t stop.

  I’m hypnotized by the sight of her. Her cheeks flushed, her breathing labored, her hand moving beneath the sheets, her legs parted.

  “Logan.”

  “Fuck!”

  I know I should walk out and close the door behind me. But instead, I’m standing at the foot of the bed, tearing the sheets off so that I can see her properly; watch her as she touches herself. She doesn’t take her eyes off me, and I can’t bring myself to leave. My faltering control is becoming a problem, but I manage not to touch her; not to crawl onto the bed between her legs and bury my head at the apex, delighting in the taste of her. Instead, I remain fixed to the spot, admiring the breathtaking sight of her writhing under her own hand. I unbutton my pants and lower them just enough to free my rock-hard erection, wrapping my fist around the base and pumping up and down. I watch as her eyes devour me, her hand quickening as she flicks her clit, pushing herself higher, getting closer to her release, and I can see the excitement in her eyes as I chase my own.

  The distance between us is charged with an intensity and a need that I have never experienced outside of an elaborate scene in my playroom at the club. The fact that she can do this to me without us touching, without so much as a kiss, is incredible, and terrifying, and it doesn’t take long until I’m on the edge.

  “Come with me, Vittoria.”

  I can see that she’s been holding back, waiting for me to say the word, and the moment that she lets go and allows her orgasm to wash over her, is fucking resplendent. Her back arches off the bed, one hand brutally grasping at her breast, pinching her nipple to a hardened point; her other hand working frantically, her fingers drenched in her own juices as she palms her clit and thrusts three of her fingers inside herself. It’s fucking beautiful, and I let myself join her; my hand fisting tighter around my cock, my movements quick and precise, my legs trembling beneath me. The look in her eyes as she watches my come spurting into my other hand is one of complete female satisfaction.

  She loves that she has this effect on me.

  I take a moment to compose myself, taking off my shirt and wiping my hands clean, before buttoning up my pants, grabbing the sheet off the floor and covering her with it. I turn and walk out of the room without a word. I know she’s expecting something from me, but I need to do this my way now.

  I find a length of rope in my overnight bag and head back to her room. I don’t know why I brought it from my apartment, or maybe I just don’t want to admit the reason, even to myself. I talk a good game of being the nice guy when it comes to Vittoria, but I’m not. Deep down, I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist her for long.

  Her eyes light up at the sight of the pretty purple rope in my hands as I make my way over to the bed. I crawl up the length of her, the smell of her arousal, thick in the air, enticing me. When I’m happy with my position, I slowly unravel the rope before grabbing her wrists and binding them together. Her headboard is perfect for a playroom; hardwood spindles that would act as strong tethers for any form of restraints. I wonder if that’s intentional, but the thought that she’s had other men in here, tying her up, makes me want to break something, so I push the thought aside and focus on weaving the ropes through the headboard, securing her hands in place.

  She doesn’t say a word, but simply watches me as I work; a contented look on her face. I can see that she feels comfortable with this, with me, and it makes my dick throb in my pants, but I ignore it, telling myself to remember the bigger picture.

  I can’t bind her ankles, so I decide on some shibari knots around her knees. I feel a calm serenity wash over me as I work the ropes around her skin. I realize that this is the moment, when everything changes. I can’t ignore my feelings for her anymore, and I can’t keep losing control around her. It’s not who I am, and if I change for her, if I let her keep pushing me, pushing for us to be together, and pander to her, I’ll become a man I don’t recognize; a man I don’t respect, and at some point she would lose respect for me, too. She was drawn to me because of the man I am. I control everything around me, I command it. If I lose that, I lose myself.

  When I’m happy with my handiwork, I get up off the bed and take a step back to admire it. Even this small amount of rope on her looks so fucking hot. The purple is perfect against the unique hue of her skin, highlighting just how stunning her body really is. I could turn her into a work of art if I bound her full body using shibari.

  I cross my arms over my chest, feeling my rapid heartbeat thundering against my forearms. Every muscle in my body is tense; adrenaline coursing through me as I fight my instincts, my desperation to be inside of her. I pull a chair from the corner of the room and place it at the end of the bed, sitting down to collect my thoughts.

  “Logan. What are you doing?”

  I take a few minutes before I answer. Letting my pulse return to normal, and my inner calm wash over me until I feel like myself again.

  “You will refer to me as Master Fitzgerald from now on, unless I tell you otherwise. I’ve earned it.”

  She stares at me, lust and desire evident in her eyes.

  “Do you understand?”

  She’s quick to answer. “Yes, Master Fitzgerald.”

  “I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen. You will speak only when I ask you a question. Understood?”

  “Yes, Master Fitzgerald.”

  “Good. Firstly, let me tell you how absolutely stunning your little show was. You are breathtaking when you touch yourself, Vittoria, but I assume you already know that, or you wouldn’t have tried to entice me with it.” Her gaze drops to the bed. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you.” She does as I ask, but I can tell that she’s starting to feel uncomfortable. This isn’t what she was expecting. “I can see in your eyes that you thought I was going to give in to you. That I wouldn’t be able to control myself. You are stunning, but know this – everything that has happened up until this point, every bit of control you have felt over me… is because I let you. I chose to discard my own self-imposed rules. I chose to let you suck my cock. I chose to lick your sweet little pussy. I also made the decision to kiss you in the airport and tell you that I’m in love with you.”

  She’s squirming now.

  “I’ve been going over and over every one of our interactions last year, and there are three possible explanations, so I’m going to lay them out for you and maybe we can figure out which is correct.”

  I stand from the chair, walking around the bed, trailing my hands from her toes, up the length of her legs.

  “The first possibility is that you are a spoiled brat that likes to get her own way no matter what anyone else says or thinks. That would explain you pushing me, even after I told you we couldn’t be tog
ether.”

  “That’s not it at all…” I flip her onto her side and slap her naked ass, hard; the sound reverberating around the room.

  “Do not speak until I tell you to, or your ass will be the same color as a pretty red rose. Understand?”

  “Yes… Master Fitzgerald.”

  “The second option is that you are most definitely involved in my lifestyle, but you’re a Dominatrix. In that case, I could only hazard a guess that you had some silly notion that you could turn me from a Dom into your submissive, playing on the fact that you know I’ve been in love with you for years.” I continue to trail my fingers over her soft, supple skin. “I know that can’t be the right answer, because you wouldn’t be that naïve! The reason you are so attracted to me is because of how controlling I am in all aspects of my life…” I slip my hand between her legs; she’s wet and warm, and oh so ready for me. I lean down to whisper in her ear. “…especially in the bedroom.”

  I relish the sound of her breath catching at my words, her flesh trembling under my touch, but I leave her bereft and make my way back over to the chair at the end of the bed. Her gaze following my every move.

  “The final option, and the one I’m really rooting for, is that you are an extremely feisty submissive, in need of some training from a real Master. That maybe you’ve forgotten exactly what it is that you ‘love’ about me. You were drawn to my dominance. You crave it. You thrive under it. It’s why you excel as a dancer. The discipline, the pain, the pleasure of it all. The euphoria that comes as the music flows through you. You give yourself over to dance completely, and in return, it rewards you. This is the same. If you gave yourself over to me completely, I would play your body with such utter precision; I would walk that fine line between pleasure and pain with such effortless ease, that you couldn’t help but feel the same euphoria when you come for me.”