by N. R. Larry
The material of the mask is sheer lace dipped in glittery paint, which lends a metal-like effect to it. The mask is exquisite, delicate yet it doesn’t conceal much. It adds an aura of mystery to the attire, but it doesn’t hide my identity.
As I step inside the vaulted hall that greets newcomers, I realize I am overdressed. And utterly screwed. The black and white polished floor flickers with the light of dozens of candles mounted on medieval-looking sticks as well as on a tiered chandelier. They set the mood to ultra-sexy, which the handful of female guests lounging around in skimpy outfits emphasize. I get that a sorority is throwing this party, but I don’t find male guests other than myself when I glance about.
Hackles high up, a shudder rattles me. What sort of trap have I walked into? And where the hell is Jessie?
The click-clack of high-heels against marble approaching me from behind tighten my balls and stiffen my cock. There are few sounds sexier than a resolute woman strutting on fuck-me-pumps. When her warmth envelopes me like a blanket, I gaze down to find a pair of red satin shoes flanking my black Oxfords.
Jessie
Deception
Nick begins to turn his head, but wrap my fingers around his chin, stopping his movement. My long nails sport a deep burgundy polish in a stark contrast with his tanned skin. Although delicate, my hand has a vice-like grip on his head as I subdue his instinctive resistance. Nick Krios doesn’t deal well with lack of control.
“Hush now, pretty boy. You’ll see me in good time.” I plant a feathery kiss on the blueish vein throbbing on his neck. A groan escapes his tight lips. I glance down to confirm my suspicion and smile at the sight of the bulge straining the black fabric of his pants. I graze his left earlobe as I whisper commands, “Move towards that blue door across the hall. Don’t look back. Behave well and I might reward you”.
I spear my fingers through his thick mane of black curls, lightly scratching his scalp. He catches his breath when my nails travel down his back. I swat his butt as I wonder if he finds our role-play amusing or annoying. I have done my homework. A confirmed habitue of the sex club circuit, he is no ordinary bottom. Despite the occasional flip, Nick is a dominant, through and through.
As the door creaks open, he relaxes the muscles on his shoulders. I bet the familiar sight does the trick. A four-poster bed, large enough to accommodate six, dominates the room. Harnesses dangle from the ceiling above it while plush cuffs ornate its headboard and feet. To the right, a spanking bench padded with blue leather and a black and blue St. Andrew’s cross beckon us. My palms itch to latch on one of the leather whips mounted on the wall next to the cross. On the left wall, a chest takes up more than half the width of the room. Earlier in the week, when I scouted this place, I discovered the mahogany piece is filled with mouth-watering sex toys. I plan to try most of them on Nick tonight.
I cover his eyes with a silky blindfold tying it behind his head. With my hands, I apply gentle pressure on his shoulder blades to ease the tension gripping the muscles there. “You’re going to be fine. I just need you to rein in your inner Dom for a while, stud.”
“How the hell do you…?” he utters.
I interrupt his question cupping his cock. It twitches under my fingers, through the layers of clothes. He squints his eyes, a nerve ticks on his jaw. Despite the iron-hard evidence of his desire twitching under my palm, I don’t harbor illusions. He must be plotting his payback.
With lips glued to his right ear, I mutter, “Let me take care of you. Just you wait. It’s going to be worth it. I promise.” I steer his steps toward the St. Andrew’s cross. Clamping my fingers on his shoulder, I direct him, “Stop. Turn around. Strip for me.”
As Nick obeys, a smug smile curves his full lips. He must be aware of the effect his physique has on women. I’m not immune to his sex appeal. Sparks ignite my skin as he glides a hand down the grooves on his torso before unbuttoning the pants, letting them slide down brawny legs. I eyeball the tan skin as his striptease reveals increments of his taut chest. Liquid warmth gathers inside me flooding my sex at the sight of his stiff, thick cock. I lick my lips when he swipes his thumb over its head and dries a couple of pre-cum droplets crowning his shaft.
The damn man is nicely built. Well, technically he is not a man. Still, his human form is exquisite. I grin as he flexes his pectorals. Leaning forward, I trace a naughty line across the jittering six-pack with the tip of my tongue. The hiss that escapes Nick’s mouth brings a sinful smile to mine.
I had secured his interest long before I found out about the magic of the Red Shoes. Now it has come into the picture, for the next forty-eight hours, a snowball in hell has better chances of survival than Nick has resisting me. I might as well enjoy my revenge, make it as kinky and pleasurable as I can. For me, at least.
I sink my teeth into the smooth flesh of his lower abdomen and guffaw when he jumps back.
He squeals, “What the hell?”
I swat his naked butt. “I didn’t give you permission to talk. Or step away from me.” Grabbing his left wrist, I shackle it to the St. Andrew’s cross, then repeat the action with the right one. When I’m done tying his ankles, I stroll back a couple of feet to take in my handiwork. I decide to leave the blindfold on him.
Satisfied, I step into his personal space, nose the left side of his neck, and whisper, “Not seeing heightens your other senses.”
He pulls at the restraints when I scrape his chest with a fingernail before flicking his nipples. His pleasure evidenced by the way he pulls his lower lip into his mouth and sucks at it. A grin spreads my lips upward when I hear the tiniest groan rumbling his chest. I nibble at a sensitive spot on his neck.
Blood rushes through my veins, buzzing hums in my inner ear, my sex throbs. I’m not sure how much of this pleasure is real, and how much is the magic of the red shoes. I. Don’t. Care. Control threatens to slip away when I wrap my fingers around his erection. I pump it a couple of times to lubricate his hot flesh before covering it with a condom. He whimpers when I squeeze his steel-hard cock and it sizzles my palm through the latex. I guide it to my entrance and revel at the sensations as his wide shaft spreads my wet folds. I pause to give my body time to adjust to his girth. I catalog a myriad of feelings playing on his face as grunts fall from his tightly sealed lips. Considering I teased the hell out of him during the semester, I bet the pent-up desire is the winning emotion in his mind as he thrusts his hips forward ever so slightly. It drives me insane.
I gasp, “For a dominant, you’re doing great as submissive.” I pinch his nipple and smack his hip. “Don’t mess up now or I won’t let you finish.”
His nostrils flare as deep inhales and exhales betray his frustration.
“Do you understand?” I smile at his silence. “You may nod if you do.”
When he signals his acknowledgment of my rules, I allow his erection to fill me up. We gasp when our pelvic bones collide resulting in pleasure so intense it’s borderline painful.
I pant.
He shivers.
I close my eyes as I grab his fine ass with both hands and pull him against me.
“Thrust up,” I command. “More.” I swivel my hips to ensure his cock hits all the right spots on its way in and out of my dripping folds. “Faster.”
When release builds up inside me, I sink my teeth into the hot skin of his shoulder. Pleasure overpowers me, my sex squeezes his dick. Colorful specs explode behind my closed eyelids.
He growls.
I purr.
Thin tendrils of violet haze ooze from me, spiral around our bodies, and dive into his chest. My magic reaches out to his shifter soul, daring his wolf to take over.
Not yet. I won’t let it. Not now.
Calling on the red shoes power to curtail mine, I throw my head back and wail as wave after wave of exquisite release wash over me. My body milks Nick’s for every ounce of his seed as he explodes, filling the condom.
As my heartbeats return to normal, I untie the slippery cloth from his ey
es. The black pupils cover most of the blue in his eyes, cheeks glow rosy, and the swollen lower lip bears the indentation from his teeth.
Without thinking, I dip my head and capture his mouth, caressing his tongue as I allow my fingers to get entangled in his hair.
I whimper, step back, and knit my eyebrows. “Why do you have to make it harder than it has to be?”
“What are you talking about?”
My mind is clogged by the aftermath of the most intense orgasm I’ve ever experienced. I forget to chastise him for talking without permission.
I scrutinize his expression before answering, “Us. Me. I don’t know.”
“That makes two of us.”
I allow my gaze to travel from his face to his feet and back up as I appraise the fine specimen standing before me.
I shrug. “What the hell! Let’s pretend for just one night.”
Aware he has no clue what I mean, or who I really am, I unshackle him. Relinquishing my dominatrix role, I bask in his warmth as he buries his long fingers in my thick red curls, claims my mouth, and rekindles our passion.
He whispers inside my mouth, “I let you play Mistress, but I’m Master now.”
One hand holds my nape, the other cups my ass while a naughty finger teases my butt crack. I shudder.
He licks my bottom lip, probing his hot tongue between my lips. Impatient, I suck at his tongue. I knead the flesh of his back, long nails raking his skin. He moans when I wrap my legs around his waist. He bites my lip, tongues my nipples, and sucks at them.
I grunt.
He commands, “Stop squeezing me with your thighs or I’ll truss you.”
I arch an eyebrow, drawing my knees up, digging my heels into his butt. With a distracting kiss he turns the table on me and ties me to the St. Andrew’s cross. My heartrate spikes with anticipation.
A sinful grin curves his lips up as he reaches for a lever, pulls it down, and the cross moves upward. He locks the mechanism when my waist gets to his eye-level. I melt when he caresses my thighs with his cheeks and plants an open-mouthed kiss on the sensitive skin.
He chuckles, “You smell good enough to eat.”
Grabbing my hips, he snatches his mouth onto my core, licking, teasing the hard nub. His hands take their time kneading my flesh until they reach my breasts. He tweaks my nipples, stretching them between his fingers as he pulls my clit into his lips. He sucks hard at it until I’m reduced to moans and sighs. My sounds drive him on while my juices flood his mouth. When my thighs shudder, he pulls away.
He lowers the cross until my red shoes touch the floor. He traces an imaginary line with an index finger from my nose, down pouty lips, slender neck, turgid nipples, quivering belly button, until the top of my drenched sex. Stopping there, he teases me with an intent stare. I move my hips upward.
“You want me to stick my finger in your hot core?”
His middle finger penetrates me in one swift movement. In and out until it’s coated in my arousal. Bringing it to his nose, he inhales and moans. With a naughty grin, he nudges my lips with it. I open my mouth and lick the digit with gusto. His sharp intake of air comes seconds before he replaces his finger with his tongue.
As our mouths duel, he cups my sex, invading me with three fingers. Poking, probing, teasing the G-spot. I whimper when my body clutches his hand. I’m almost there. He takes a step back and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, the hunger in the dark blue depths threatens to send me over the edge.
Clamping his mouth on my left breast, he sucks at my birthmark and I panic for a beat. When he doesn’t mention seeing the heart-shaped mark before, and instead bites my hardened nipple, pleasure overpowers me.
I groan when he pinches my clit. He switches his lips to the other nipple. His thick erection stretches me, my thighs tremble. The first waves of another massive release hit me. I roll my head over my shoulders.
As my muscles clench and unclench around his dick, he plunges inside, sinking to the hilt, melding our lips together, slamming his body against mine. He takes my breath away, steals my self-control.
“Yes, Nick! Yes!” I roar.
He groans and explodes deep inside me, driving me insane. I guess it’s my third orgasm. Who’s counting? All that matters is this blinding ecstasy.
Yet I want more.
He unfastens the handcuffs, scoops me up, and walk us to the bed. For the next couple of hours, we don’t talk. We fuck. We soar to the stars. We tumble over the edge multiple times.
When I can’t keep my eyes open, I slip into unconsciousness snugged under his arm, chin resting on his expansive chest.
Nick
Wrath
If I believed in heaven, I’d say I’ve found mine. Being lulled to sleep by the rhythmic beats of Jessie’s heart against mine is the closest thing I have felt to paradise in a long time. Flashes of the evening sparkle behind closed eyelids. I haven’t had such an explosive release in ages either. My cock twitches against her soft hip. There’s something about Jessie, about the way she kisses me, but I can’t figure out what that is. A faint memory stirs at the back of my mind, flickers, then vanishes.
Too bad heaven and hell are inseparable.
I wake up handcuffed to the headboard, Jessie’s mouth enclosing my erection. The metal bites my wrist. I don’t care. She takes her time, tension builds inside me, pleasure lurks just around the corner. A couple of hours ago, she gave me the blowjob of a lifetime. I guess she enjoys going for seconds. Who am I to deny the lady her pleasure? I drop my head back, sink into the pillow, and close my eyes.
She stops.
I give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe this is a new technique. When the mattress dips and I hear footsteps around the room, I crack an eye open. Jessie is collecting her clothes scattered on the floor.
I gesture to the cuff with my free hand. “What’s the point of tying me down again, if you’re putting your clothes back on?”
Her cold stare freezes me.
What the hell?
She zips up her leather minidress, unzips a front pocket, fishes a key out of it, and drops it on the covers at the far end of the bed. She places a business card on the dent her head created on the pillow beside me.
“Earlier, it was pleasure; now, it’s business, Mr. Krios,” she mutters as she grabs my wallet from the night table and flashes an arctic grin over her shoulder on her way out. “Or should I call you Mr. Katach?”
Ice. My veins pump ice instead of blood. How the hell does she know my real family name?
She pauses at the doorway, turns her head just enough the candles from the hall illuminate her profile. The image is familiar, but I can’t place it. She bites her lower lip and squints her eyes shut for a second. After taking a deep breath, she opens them up again to stare at me. Gargoyles on cathedral roofs sport more welcoming expressions than her stony face.
She hisses, “If you want your wallet back, you’ll have to do me a favor. When you’re ready to commit, call the number on the card.” She nods to the bed. “If I don’t hear back from you in forty-eight hours, I’ll call your dad.”
Pure, unaltered rage singes my guts as I lunge for the key. The metal cuts my left wrist when I stretch my right fingers to reach the key. I ignore the pain and grab key. I open the handcuff and bolt out of the door in time to witness an emergency exit door at the end of the corridor closing behind Jessie’s leather-clad ass.
I give chase. As I step outside, the headlights of a flashy red sports car blind me. Survival instinct makes me jump back, out of its way. After gifting me a smug grin, she turns to face the road, her red curls bounce around her head.
I fist my hands, standing like a lamp post, watching the taillights disappear.
I hate feeling powerless. I’ve had to resign myself to being without powers for far too long. “I’m done with this shit!”
Murderous thoughts collide in my crazed brain, but one stands out. This is a setup. The whole sorority party was a scam. Jessie invited me to this remot
e sex club to make the first move in a mysterious, dangerous game she wants to play. One I’ve no clue as to what the rules are. One I cannot afford to sit out.
Seeing red, I march back inside. When I cross the threshold of the blue door again, slamming it behind me, anger releases the beast in me. I’ve got no control over my wolf any longer.
I don’t want to.
I don’t fully turn, though. Claws are all I need right now.
I relish tearing the room down one kinky toy at a time, purging my pent-up frustration. Unsatisfied lust turns into unbridled anger. I trash the room in a matter of minutes. Luckily, sex club rooms come with soundproof insulation. Nobody hears the thuds as objects hit walls, ceiling, and floor; or the clinks as shards of glass explode as I shatter mirrors. Nobody hears the roars as my unleashed beast lurches around the room.
Red is all I see.
The deep burgundy of the bed linen I shred to pieces. The enticing shade of Jessie’s curls framing her flawless skin as we fucked through the night. The bright hue on her nails when she raked them down my body. The velvety red of the damn high heels she never dropped.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
Each word matches a punch to a different spot on the wall above the headboard. Red drops splatter around the last two fist holes. Bloody droplets. Looking down, I realize my blood is dripping onto the hardwood floor.
“Damn it!”
I scan the room turned warzone for my clothes, pick them up, and get dressed. Serves me right for allowing my cock to do the thinking. People don’t get called dickheads without reason. Rushing to the car parked outside, my mind is laser focused on one goal: Escaping this hellhole. But my demons know where I live.
