She needed a trellis of some kind for the exotics he wanted to grow up and over, to wind around. Cain wanted to incorporate a piece of equipment called St. Andrew’s Cross. It was far too big and bulky. She couldn’t find a place for it in her space, although she told him in the newer section she would try. Then he came up with a different one. This was a sleeker design, more of an hourglass shape and one she thought she could work with if anchored properly. It was called a BDSM Triangle Cross. She didn’t care what it was called as long as it didn’t move. Cain’s men had installed it a couple of weeks earlier, in the hopes that the plants would arrive.
Flambé hadn’t yet decided how best to use the cross. It was situated in a corner where the very expensive plants wouldn’t be trampled on by accident. She worked around the space, occasionally stopping to study it. One flowering tree was close to it, but if it became a problem, she would prune it or teach Cain how to.
Usually she could envision exactly how she wanted the flowers and vines to drape over the existing wood to show them off at the height of their beauty, but for some reason, every time she looked at the cross, she thought of Sevastyan and her body reacted. He had been very upset with her when he dropped her off. He’d left two bodyguards, one at the front door and one at the back, basically threatening them within an inch of their lives if anything happened to her.
They had gone back to the house and both had showered and eaten and she’d informed him that the plants had to go into the ground immediately or they would be lost. They were that sensitive. She was fine going to the club alone or with bodyguards. He had said little, but then, he didn’t have to. Those focused eyes of his had sent a chill down her spine. She was playing with fire. With the devil.
She just needed time to think. She wasn’t someone who usually made snap decisions. He probably thought she was because she’d accepted his claim on her leopard. She couldn’t blame him for his assessment of her. She cursed the fact that she needed sex so much. She didn’t want to explain why, and being around Sevastyan had turned that terrible raw need into a craving that was so strong it bordered on obsession of him. She couldn’t think straight when he was around.
The worst part was, she’d thought sex would satisfy her and she could walk away, as he did so easily from all those other women—as clearly he could from her. She found, with him, she wasn’t built that way. Something about him got to her and not just in a sexual way. He got to her deeper. That was where she was going to get into trouble. She had to figure out very fast what she was going to do. What the truth about Sevastyan Amurov really was.
Normally, she was good at reading people. That was a major part of her gifts. She could size up a person the moment she saw them, spoke to them or just watched or listened to them for a few moments. She could read their character, but even after spending time with Sevastyan and being in his head, he was still an enigma to her. That was frightening in the face of all the rumors about his family and his admissions about them. More, after the things she’d overheard at his cousin’s home . . .
There wasn’t a single sound. Not one, but Flambé knew he was there. Her body reacted first, goose bumps rising all over her skin. Her nipples hardened. Her sex clenched. She just knew.
She glanced up as Sevastyan entered the long, wide, glassed-in garden of paradise. Her breath caught in her throat. He was wearing only his soft drawstring pants, his chest bare, and there were several bundles of ropes in his hands. He looked remote. Merciless. So completely the man she’d first seen in the club who had robbed her of her ability to think or sleep for weeks on end. She sat back on her heels, blinking up at him as he dimmed the lights in the garden even lower than she already had them.
“Go. Prepare yourself for a very long session. Hurry. I don’t want to be waiting long. When you return, come back to this exact spot. Hydrate, Flambé.” He indicated the water bottle she’d brought with her and set on the table near the door but hadn’t yet touched.
Heart beating fast, Flambé got up and walked to the nearest restroom, ducked inside and took care of business, washing her hands thoroughly and staring at herself in the mirror. She looked terrified and excited beyond belief. He did that to her. A part of her was so afraid he might leave that she hurried back out, catching up the water bottle and drinking from it as she returned to where she’d been working.
He indicated the ground and she knelt back amongst the vines in the exact spot where she’d been planting new flowers.
“Strip. Everything. Fold your clothes neatly and put them on the bench, but do it right from there. Don’t get up.”
That voice. He issued the command in a low, compelling tone, velvet over steel. The tone seemed to brush along her nerve endings, sending sparks igniting fires in her veins, her sex, her deepest core. She didn’t think to object. She didn’t want to. She needed to give him everything he demanded or could ever desire. She had needed him from the moment she had first opened her eyes that morning. She didn’t care that she still was unsure if she wanted to be in a relationship with him, she wanted sex with him—like this. Just like this.
She unbuttoned her blouse with trembling fingers and folded it just as he ordered, placing it on the bench, which was just barely in reach. Her bra followed, allowing her generous breasts to spill out into the open. At once her nipples tightened in spite of the heat inside the glassed-in garden. She glanced at him from under her lashes, feeling very feminine, but he looked aloof, as if he didn’t notice her body at all. For some strange reason, that sent liquid heat dampening her panties. She quickly worked at pulling her jeans and the thong over her hips and down her legs to slide them off along with her sandals.
Once she had her clothes and shoes on the bench, he indicated the ground with the ropes. “Get back on your hands and knees and come to the center just under this tree, close to the cross.”
Her heart went crazy as she crawled, using the fluid, sexy movements of her leopard’s sleek form, hips undulating temptingly, breasts swaying, as she put each hand and knee carefully down until she got to the exact center under the blossoming tree. She didn’t look at him. She stared straight ahead at the thick flowering bushes she’d planted in all directions, the lacy leaves climbing up trellises she’d cleverly provided so anyone sitting at the high tables could see through the glass into the viewing rooms.
Flambé couldn’t hear him. Not a whisper of sound. Even his clothing didn’t dare slide against a limb or leaf. His fingertips touched her left buttock, nearly making her jump. A whisper of a touch, but it felt like a brand against her skin—searing her straight to the bone. She did her best not to move, but she trembled in anticipation. His fingertips trailed up her spine, feeling like tongues of fire licking along her back.
His legs came into view. His thighs. He seemed so big towering over her. Invincible. She touched her tongue to her lips. He could make her so crazy for him so fast, it was insane. Now he only had one bundle of rope in his hands. Where had he gotten the rope? Had he brought them with him? She knew he had a storage locker at the club. He had a membership there. In fact, Cain considered him a VIP. Just the idea that other club members might catch a glimpse of him or his work brought many members in night after night. Cain had told her that.
It was shocking to her that she had him all to herself. He stood there in silence, looking down at her while her body coiled tighter and tighter, heat gathering along with the need to feel the ropes wrapping her in their embrace. The ropes were so much a part of him. Just keeping her like this, on the edge of anticipation, made that place inside of her all the more open to him.
The rope was a bright red. Crimson. It slid through his hands, a part of him. She knew he was checking for slivers as it passed through his fingers. He moved over to the cross anchored in the corner and her heart stuttered and then accelerated as he tested the sturdiness of it, pushing against it with the strength of a leopard. It barely moved.
He indicated for her to stand. He didn’t help her. He just waited for her
to rise and then he walked around her, this time his fingers trailing on her pulse, a whisper of a touch, hand checking to see how cold or warm her skin was. He slipped the rope over her shoulders and began to build a harness in the fast, sure way he had, this one quite different than the one he had used before. The knots were thick, hard, the harness more of a yoke, coming under her breasts and between them, the knots going down to form a diamond around her belly button and then wrap around her waist, thick strands coming from several angles off the diamond for support. He caught her arms behind her and pulled them tight, binding them into the weave of knots going up her back and into the yoke. He added rope positioned directly over her nipples, pulling tight enough that she felt the burn if she moved.
He tied more rope to the diamond and quickly added thick knots down the front of her to her crotch and back between her cheeks as if it were a thong, but the knots were very large, rubbing against her pussy lips and the hood of her clit, spreading her cheeks with any movement. She stayed very still, her lungs filled with the scent of him. Her mind filled with the need of him.
He walked around her, carefully inspecting his ties, checking her pulse as he did. Making certain her skin was warm and her circulation hadn’t been cut off. More rope wrapped up very high around her thigh and then around her ankle. He positioned her very close to the cross. The small movement sent the ropes sliding over her body and sent every nerve ending screaming with need.
Her wild gaze jumped to the cross to see his ropes had already been threaded through the various rings at the top of the two wooden beams. He pulled her easily into the air, a slow rise, her weight evenly distributed. Nevertheless, it was shocking and frightening when she was no longer on the ground.
He tightly pulled up the leg tied at the ankle and thigh so her knee was drawn up and out. He secured her knee to her waist, exposing her damp crotch to him. Her sex pulsed. Her heartbeat pounded right through her sheath as he tied her other leg and pulled her knee into position.
Again, he was careful, checking her pulse, touching her body to ensure her circulation wasn’t cut off. He stood in front of her, looking down at her in silence for what seemed like forever before he retrieved a small camera from somewhere behind her. He walked around her taking several pictures.
“I hope you’re ready to talk to me, Flambé.” His tone was casual. Low. Velvet over steel. “You do look really beautiful and so much a part of this garden. I think you outdid yourself. I’m a little jealous. Perhaps you’ll have to make us something similar, although for us, I would like you to think in terms of suspension throughout our garden since it is something I like to tie and you like to be in.”
He moved very close to her belly and took a closeup of the knots and then backed off to get a closeup of her face. “You have a look of almost ecstasy on your face.” He reached out with that same casual way he had and gently moved the rope controlling the knots.
Her breath hissed out; she couldn’t help it. The brush over her nipples set them on fire. The knots between her breasts leading down to her sex and back up between her cheeks moved and twisted in such a way that she wanted to ride the knots to see if she could relieve the terrible coiling tension that burned inside of her, but she knew it was impossible. Relief was just out of reach and any movement would only make her need worse.
“We were fine last night, but then after being at Mitya’s everything changed.” He walked to the side of her and snapped more photographs of the knots. Of her breasts. Returned to the front and moved close to capture the way the knot was positioned right over the hood of her clit. “Tell me what changed.”
His voice was exactly the same, as if she were an art object and they were having a casual conversation. She was desperate for sex, her body flushed and so aroused her brain could barely function. He trailed his fingers over her thigh, inside, close to her sex, just stroked for a moment, but that one small touch nearly brought her to orgasm.
“We have all night, Flambé. You look quite beautiful. If you want to be stubborn and not tell me, that won’t be a problem. I can lower the suspension to the perfect height to give your body rest while you take care of me. That gives me some respite and we’ll start over again. I’ll lift you back up and then we’ll see how long you want to hold out before you talk to me.”
She instantly wanted to hold out just for that alone. She tried desperately not to look at him, not to meet his eyes because he would see, but she couldn’t stop her lashes from lifting. Naturally, his eyes were blazing right into hers. Focused. Hypnotic. Knowing. He was already lowering her body to the floor. Slowly, so not one part of her jarred when her bottom touched down other than the insanity of the sexual hunger coursing through her like a firestorm.
The knot positioned directly over her little star was soaked with liquid heat and the moment her weight settled it pushed deep, straight into the bundle of sensitive nerve endings, adding desperation to the flames the knot over her clit and the two pushing into her entrance caused.
He slid the drawstring on his trousers open and withdrew his cock, one hand circling the base of the shaft while the other fisted in her hair, tilting her head back. He rubbed the broad crown back and forth over her mouth, smearing his addicting taste along her lips before suddenly abandoning her hair to press his fingers into her jaw, opening her mouth wide. He pushed his cock deep, stretching her lips all in one swift motion.
“Look at me. Keep your eyes on me. I want to see you like this. Suck hard. That’s it, baby. Harder. Swallow me down.”
He felt heavy and delicious on her tongue. He took up her mouth. He was big, a monster, but she wanted him. She wanted to do exactly what he asked of her. Everything he asked, but she wasn’t certain she could. She concentrated on his cock, using her tongue, her mouth, listening to his instructions as he thrust into her. She knew he was gentle for her. Sevastyan wasn’t a gentle lover. He never would be and that was more than half his appeal for her. But this could be a scary situation and he took more care than usual although he thrust deep, his cock pulsing, a dark, erotic, powerful seduction that sent her own body into a frenzy of need.
She found herself sucking even harder just as he demanded, tilting her head back farther to give him a better angle. His cock swelled even more, jerked, felt so hot it was a burning brand as ropes of his seed jetted down her throat. He held himself there, one hand to the back of her head.
“That’s it, baby. All of it.” He eased back enough for her to breathe. “Clean me up. All of me. Every drop. Every inch of me.”
She wasn’t certain he was breathing hard. He looked as aloof as ever. Why was that hot to her? Why was her body so responsive to that? She took her time, her tongue finding every last sticky spot on him. He stepped away from her, casually retied his trousers and retrieved her water bottle. He held it to her mouth so she could drink and then he checked her arms.
“Is your circulation all right?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He unwrapped the rope that covered her nipples.
Flambé wasn’t happy about that, but she didn’t protest. She kept her lashes down, desperate to keep from squirming on the knots. Three of them were in her body now, or at least they felt like it. Sevastyan began to pull her back into a suspended position. He stopped when her breasts were jutting toward him. He leaned forward and took her left one into the heat of his mouth and her entire body jolted. Flames ran up her spine. He sucked hard on her nipple, elongating it as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small case.
“You’ll look particularly lovely in these rubies with this decorative tie.” He leaned close and began to attach something that bit into her nipple. “This is a rubber-tipped alligator clamp. Ruby, of course, and weighted with rubies. You’ll want to be still so they don’t swing while you talk and I take your photograph.”
He screwed the clamp tighter, watching her face the entire time. When she took a deep breath and her gaze jumped to his, his finger slid to her slick entrance and pressed deep
. “You like this, don’t you, baby?”
She swallowed and nodded. She did. It was scary, but she felt like she floating close to euphoria. She couldn’t say why, only that she was so very close.
He switched his attention to the other breast and mimicked the same action. When he was satisfied, he lifted her a few more inches into the air. Once again, he tested her pulse and checked to make certain her skin was warm.
To her consternation, he lifted the knot at her clit idly and began to rub back and forth with his finger and then the knot, alternating between them. “What happened at Mitya’s house, Flambé?” His thumb hooked in the rope and played for a moment, sending streaks of fire darting to her sex and bottom simultaneously while his fingers and the knot burned over her inflamed clit until she wanted to scream.
She jerked and the rubies dangling from the nipple clamps danced as though possessed, sending flames roaring through her veins straight to her sheath.
“I heard some men talking about me. About a conversation you had with your cousin.” She could barely find her voice. Her mind was in chaos. It was difficult to think straight but she was so desperate to have him she thought she might go insane.
Sevastyan stepped back. “Open your eyes, baby, and look at me. You’re flying too high to talk and we’re not stopping until we have this conversation.”
His voice was commanding. There was no disobeying it and she needed the sound of it as an anchor. Flambé forced air into her lungs and opened her eyes, holding her body very still. He was about a foot away from her, maybe less, sucking on one finger, his camera cradled in his hands. He looked so unaffected by everything, so sexy she wanted to hold out even longer but she knew she couldn’t.
“Who did you hear talking?”
“I don’t know. They were in the next room, but the door was open. I was waiting for you. Ania had gone upstairs to get her things. She said to go ahead and wait in the sitting room and I took a wrong turn. I heard voices and was going to ask where I went wrong, but I heard my name so I just stopped and listened.”
Leopard's Rage (Leopard People) Page 16
