When I'm With You: Part VII

by BETH KERY

  This time, Elise managed several bites of the delicious dessert. Lucien, on the other hand, didn’t eat a thing.

  * * *

  She felt the tension building in him as they said their good-byes and gave their thanks to Richard and Emile later. She sensed it mounting as they drove home, brewing and coiling tight until it felt like the very atmosphere on the inside of the sedan pressed down on her skin and made breathing difficult.

  It thrilled her to know she would be the target of all that awesome passion, but it intimidated her as well. Lucien never ceased to excite and amaze her sexually, but his challenges frightened her a little as well.

  Was she worried she would fall short somehow, and not meet his demanding expectations?

  If you are honest . . . you’ll please me every time.

  The recollection of what he’d said to her last night gave her courage when Lucien led her back to the bedroom immediately upon their return to the penthouse. His face looked like it’d been cast from stone it was so tense, as he turned and began to undress her without preamble. He’d unlocked her bracelets before they’d left Fusion. When he’d removed her jacket and blouse, she stood before him wearing only the skirt, her shoes, the necklace and nipple chain, and her bracelets.

  He moved to take off her skirt and looked at her face. He paused.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, his eyelids narrowing.

  She nodded. When he continued to stare, she said, “I’m a little afraid.”

  “Of me?” he asked, his eyebrows slanting.

  “No. I’m afraid I won’t be able to please you.”

  His mouth fell open. He stepped closer and cradled her jaw. “That’s not even a remote possibility. Trust me on that. Do you?” he asked intently.

  She looked into his eyes and nodded.

  “You’ve already pleased me more tonight than I’ve ever been in my life.” He bent and touched his mouth to hers, his kiss a quiet reassurance he’d take her safely through the storm. He lifted his head a moment later.

  “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to treat you with kid gloves,” he said, his tone reminding her of velvet-covered steel.

  “I don’t want you to,” she assured. Now that she’d spoken of her insecurity, and heard Lucien’s response, she experienced a sense of mixed regret and reassurance. She shouldn’t have been afraid. Of course he would keep her safe. Of course he wouldn’t demand anything of her she couldn’t give.

  But can he keep me safe if he doesn’t share in the love that’s threatening to burst out of my chest? You’ll be all alone, then, even if Lucien is right by your side.

  Her thoughts were so volatile, she longed to distract herself from them . . . make her fear a distant memory.

  “Good,” Lucien murmured. “Because you drove me to the brink of madness tonight.”

  She touched his jaw and brushed her body against him, the slight abrading of her erect, tender nipples against the fabric of his suit coat thrilling her. She tilted her head back and met his gaze. “I will help you stave off madness. I am your slave. Use me for your pleasure,” she whispered, letting him read the dare in her gaze. She saw something spark in his light eyes. His nostrils flared as he looked down at her.

  “You needn’t offer yourself. I would have taken what I wanted anyway, because you are mine to do with as I please.”

  Fresh arousal spiked through her at his stark dominance. He reached behind her and unfastened her skirt, pushing it down her hips and thighs until she stepped out of it. She stood before him naked except for her heels and jewelry. When he gently released the loops on her nipples, she bit her lip to halt a cry at the quick, sharp pain resulting from the sudden release of pressure.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. He set aside her necklace and the nipple chain and leaned down to brush his lips against hers. The pain faded as quickly as it came. He ran his hands over her hips and sensitive sides. He gently caressed her sensitive nipples. She shivered uncontrollably beneath his touch and blatantly possessive stare.

  “Your nipples are so large now, so pink. So beautiful,” he said, his fingers worshiping.

  “Lucien,” she said, her desperation rising.

  “I will not draw this out any further,” he said with sudden decisiveness. He led her over to his large bed. “Put your hands on the railing and bend over.” Excitement built in her when she took the position, her hands bracing her weight on the mahogany rail that ran between the two end posts, her heartbeat throbbing in the tips of her suspended breasts.

  “Stay put,” he said.

  She craned around and watched as Lucien walked into his dressing closet. When he came out a moment later, he wore nothing but his suit pants, his delineated muscles gleaming in the soft lamplight. She couldn’t help but notice how full his cock looked behind the fly of his trousers and riding along his left thigh. She yanked her gaze off the compelling sight, frowning in puzzlement at what she saw in his hands.

  One of the items she recognized immediately: the black leather crop he’d used on her the night in the stables when he’d taken her virginity, the one he’d said was now hers . . . not hers to use, but to have used on her. A thrill went through her. A shiny wooden shoe-polish box was tucked under his arm. The third item had her completely puzzled, however. Hanging from his left hand was something made of incredibly supple black leather. Two straps hung loosely, swaying.

  She was still staring at the leather item when he approached her and let the wooden shoe-polish box drop to the floor. He placed the crop on the bed.

  “Lucien . . . what is that?” she asked through a tight throat, referring to the leather thing with straps.

  She wasn’t expecting his small smile when he turned to her, or that familiar, devilish gleam in his eyes. He’d been so stern and tense all evening that his playfulness took her by surprise.

  “It’s a leather corset, of sorts. Very strong. Very durable. I thought it would look extremely sexy, next to your white skin,” he said, holding up the corset. Elise gasped when she saw the two thin leather straps sewn to the back of the soft leather, one on each side of the zipper.

  “Are those . . . ?” she muttered in amazement.

  “Reins,” he said, a hint of mirth in his tone. “It’s your ad hoc saddle. I had it made for you. Inhale,” he murmured as he fit the corset around her ribs and zipped it in the back. She understood why he’d said to inhale. It fit very tightly. The leather stopped an inch or two below her nipples, plumping the flesh above it until it spilled over the edge. “It seems to fit,” he murmured, running his fingers over the fulsome flesh squeezed above the leather. A shudder of pleasure went through her at his touch. “How does it feel?”

  “Extremely tight,” Elise blurted, still stunned by what was occurring. She didn’t know whether to be irritated or pleased by his gift. An ad hoc saddle?

  He straightened, regarding her and undoubtedly noticing her slight pique. “If you recall, you once told me in no uncertain terms that no one rode you.”

  “And you thought to prove me wrong?” she exclaimed heatedly.

  “I bought this to make it clear to you that there is one person on this planet whom you will submit to,” he growled softly, running his hand over her ass. “And yes, there is one man you will allow to ride you. Who is that?”

  For a moment, she just stared back at him, her heart beginning to pound in her ears.

  “You,” she finally admitted softly.

  Her gaze remained glued to the small, god-awful-sexy smile that shaped his lips. He walked over to the bedside chest and extricated another bottle of lubricant . . . and the last plug in the box.

  The largest one.

  Her muscles tightened instinctually around the plug already inserted. He set down the lubricant and the plug on the tabletop. She watched in avid lust as he methodical
ly stripped off the rest of his clothes. Her mouth went dry at the profile vision of his muscular ass, his powerful thighs, and his erect penis, the heavy weight of it making it fall at a horizontal, slightly downward angle.

  Her sexual hunger mounted exponentially.

  He walked toward her, the bottle of lubricant and the last plug in his hand.

  “You’re going to . . . fuck me in the ass, aren’t you?” she asked, flushing with embarrassment, even though it had seemed obvious to her all night that was precisely what he was preparing her for.

  “Yes,” he said, flipping open the cap on the bottle of lubricant. “And you will submit to it. But first, I will ride your hot little pussy.”

  A whimper of pure arousal leaked past her lips. The paradox of her feelings created an untenable friction. She didn’t want to be ridden. And yet . . . she did want to be ridden. By him. She wanted the rebellious, empty, hot-blooded wild child she’d been her whole life to find her limit. Held in check.

  Held secure by Lucien.

  He came toward her, his cock and balls swaying slightly between his thighs as he stalked. Her gaze flicked nervously to the largest plug in his hand. Her breath started to come choppily as Lucien moved behind her. She moaned as he removed the plug in her ass. She clenched her eyelids shut and clamped her jaw a moment later when he inserted the new lubricated butt plug. It hurt a little going in, but once it was fully inserted her ass throbbed around the rubber intruder.

  She should have been humiliated, bending over with a large plug in her ass and wearing a corset with reins that Lucien would use to control her. Instead, she was almost overwhelmingly aroused. It grew worse when Lucien came next to her and picked up the crop from the bed. Her arousal was so acute, she looked away from his stare. His hand caught her chin, preventing her avoidance.

  “There is no shame in submission,” he reminded her softly. “Only pleasure. And trust. And a desire to please.”

  “I do want to please you.”

  “I know you do. Even if you doubt. And that pleases me more than anything.”

  She bit her lower lip, the anticipation cutting at her, as he walked behind her.

  “Step up on the box,” he said, scooting the smooth shoe-polish box near her feet. She shifted and stepped onto the box, still leaning against the horizontal rail at the foot of the bed, putting her body at a more hospitable angle for Lucien to penetrate her.

  He impaled her pussy with his cock in one long, forceful stroke. She shrieked at the burst of pressure and pleasure. She was filled to the brim—overfilled—with the plug in her ass and Lucien plunged to the hilt in her vagina. He caressed a buttock as if to soothe her, even as he immediately began fucking her demandingly, his pelvis and balls slapping against her ass. The dual combination of pressure in her ass and pussy was almost too much for her to bear. And he wasn’t being gentle. He drove into her again and again, and Elise strove to keep herself steady for his onslaught.

  “You’re so hot,” he grated out, and she gloried at the thick lust in his tone. He withdrew almost entirely, only the bulbous head of his cock submerged in her, and flicked the side of her ass with the crop.

  “Ooh,” she squealed, and bucked her hips, sinking her pussy down over his rigid length and bobbing eagerly. He popped her ass harder for that with the leather slapper and gripped her hips in his powerful hold.

  “I ride you,” he reminded her, his tone a strange mixture of harsh arousal and fond amusement.

  “Yes. Yes, all right,” she conceded in a muffled voice.

  This time, he gathered the reins in one hand. It was shockingly exciting, to have him control her movements with the taut reins as he fucked her, pulling back on her body until it smacked against his pelvis in a heady, naughty rhythm she loved and responded to wholeheartedly. Her nipples throbbed as her breasts bounced from his forceful thrusts. Her ass tightened around the plug, sending a dark thrill through her. As his pace increased, he popped her bottom with the crop, urging her on . . .

  Oh yes. She was made to ride free . . . but she was also made to submit to this man. This man.

  She heard Lucien’s blistering curse a moment later as she shuddered in orgasm. She howled in protest when he jerked his cock out of her body.

  “Irrepressible,” he muttered thickly as he pulled the butt plug out of her and she yelped at the interruption of her orgasm. She squeaked in surprise when he landed the crop several times on her ass and thighs. “I didn’t give you permission to come,” he said starkly.

  “I couldn’t help it,” she moaned as he continued to swat her bottom and upper thighs, making her skin sting and smart.

  He tossed the crop onto the bed. Her eyes widened when she felt him spread back her ass cheeks and present his lubricated, hard-as-steel cock to her ass a moment later. “How would you feel if I was continually telling you I couldn’t control it, that I couldn’t help myself?” he asked her darkly.

  “I . . . I wouldn’t mind,” she replied defiantly. “I could take it.”

  He pushed his cock into her ass and she squealed.

  “You’re such a little fool if you think that,” he said before he firmed his hold on her hips and slowly penetrated her.

  * * *

  It was the purest, most distilled version of sexual torture he could ever imagine, let alone endure. Her ass was on fire, magnifying the burn in his blood and brain and balls, making him feel like he’d melt like candle wax from unadulterated lust.

  It was difficult going. Even with all the preparation he’d given her, her ass resisted him. He spanked her bottom gently, but his tone was rough with arousal.

  “Push back on me. It will help,” he demanded.

  She did it, and of course, being Elise, she didn’t do it halfway. She plunged her bottom backward, making both of them groan in agony. Lucien knew enough, however, to recognize that her moan was not of the sexual variety.

  “Are you all right?” he grated out. Holding still with half his cock submerged in her clamping channel was like telling himself not to draw air with deflated lungs.

  “Yes,” he heard her moan. “It hurt for a moment, but no more.”

  “Stay still this time, then.”

  He slowly began to pump back and forth a scarce inch in and out of her while she moaned. When she began to bob her ass against him, he swatted her ass.

  “Stay still, you little minx.” He reached around her and found her clit, rubbing the slick flesh strenuously. With his other hand, he kept her hip immobile and pushed his cock farther into her.

  “Ohhh,” she cried out, sounding aghast. This time, Lucien could tell she experienced excitement, not pain. He growled savagely as he entered her to the hilt and his balls pressed tight against her buttocks. He rubbed her clit hard and felt her buckle. Catching her weight, he stood there holding her against him, his cock buried in her ass while she shuddered in orgasm.

  She was going to kill him. No doubt about it.

  When he could endure no more, he tightened the reins on her leather corset and spread his hand over a hip. “You have had your pleasure many times over. I will have mine now. Take me for a ride, little filly.”

  He began to fuck her, using his hold on the reins and on her ass to control her completely.

  “That’s right. Now you are submitting to me, aren’t you? And it feels so good,” he muttered through a snarl as he pounded into her.

  Even though he mastered the movements, she still took him for the ride of a lifetime. She bounced her ass in perfect rhythm to his demanding strokes, her sharp cries of excitement every time his pelvis and balls slapped against her ass mounting his lust until he finally could take no more. He lifted her lower body, utterly controlling her, serving her to his cock again and again, ruthless in his possession. She shouted, but he couldn’t tell if her cry was from arousal, surprise, or discomfort. H
e was too busy peaking over the crest into nirvana.

  He dove into it.

  A roar erupted from his throat. He began to ejaculate deep inside her, howling as the sharp talons of pleasure ripped through him mercilessly.

  Pain brought him back to himself. His biceps had locked in a rigid flexed position as he held Elise to him and climaxed. He hissed in discomfort as he released her, carefully setting her feet back down on the shoe-polish box. He remained bent over her for a moment, panting, trying desperately to get control of himself.

  He was surprised that orgasm hadn’t ripped his head clean off him it had been so powerful.

  “Are you all right?” he asked her. Yes, he’d told her he would take his pleasure of her and that she must accept it, but he hadn’t really planned on his need growing to the cataclysmic level that it had.

  “Yes,” she murmured. She sounded okay—worn out . . . satiated. Had she come again, there at the end? He’d been too tied up in the twist of his own pleasure to tell. She moaned shakily when he withdrew his cock. He quickly unzipped the corset and encouraged her to stand. He took her weight, lifting her off the shoe-polish box and brushing his mouth against hers, his kiss every bit as tender as his earlier possession had been demanding. She trembled in his arms, feeling so warm, so feminine. It stunned him, that he could want to cherish her so much, soothe her, and yet still desired her to the point of near savagery.

  He carried her to the bathroom where he set her down and removed her bracelets. She flipped off her heels.

  Then he turned on the shower and pulled her in next to him. He gently washed her, as if he thought he could clean away the residue of his blazing, raw hunger, all along knowing it was a helpless cause. He would want her again soon enough, and all he could do—all he could ever do—was tame the savagery, regulate the taint inside him as best he could.

  It was a daily mission. Elise made it an hourly one, a battle he fought minute by minute. But because it was her—because he cherished her—the fight was not only worthy, it was sanctifying to his spirit.