Falling For The Forbidden

by Hawkins, Jessica

  He caught my wrists immediately, guiding them back down to my sides.

  “Settle, cosita,” he cooed. “This isn’t going to hurt.”

  “I’m scared,” I admitted on a shaky whisper, the words leaving me without thought.

  A low, rumbling sound rolled over my skin. “If I were a good man, I’d tell you not to be frightened. But I’m not a good man.” He pulled one of my hands forward, pressing my palm against his bulging erection. “I like having you at my mercy, Samantha. I like when you tremble and whimper for me.”

  “Please,” I whined, trying to tug my hand away from his hard length.

  He held me fast. “Just like that,” he said with rough approval. “But soon, you’ll be begging me to touch you, not to release you.”

  He finally, mercifully guided my hand away from his terrifying arousal. He released my wrists and gripped my waist, lifting my body as though I weighed nothing. The dark world spun around me as he moved my body and positioned it where he wanted. My back settled onto the soft mattress, and I instantly tried to roll away, disoriented and frightened. I could hear my blood rushing in my ears, and I was very aware of the heat of his hands on my flesh. His masculine scent infused the air I desperately breathed, until I thought I would drown in it.

  His steady grip kept me pinned to the bed. He grasped my wrists again, tugging them above my head. Cool metal snapped in place around them, a sensation that wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to me; we’d trained with handcuffs at the FBI academy. As soon as his grip left my wrists, I tried to pull my arms down to cover my exposed body. They jerked against the unyielding metal, and his hands returned to my forearms, pressing them down into the mattress.

  “Don’t struggle,” he ordered. “You’ll only bruise yourself. I’m interested to see how easily your pretty skin marks up, but not like this.”

  His words made my fear spike, and I twisted beneath him. His palm settled over my throat, his long fingers wrapping around my neck.

  “Cosita,” he said, warning imbuing the word. “I gave you an order. Settle down. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “But you want to,” I whispered tremulously, going utterly still. “You want to break me.”

  His hand remained at my throat, but his other stroked my hair. “I won’t break you. But I am going to tame you.”

  “I don’t want to be tamed. I want to go home.” Tears sank into the black cloth that covered my eyes.

  “You’re scared,” he said softly, still petting me while holding my neck in a gentle grip. “That’s natural. But it will pass. You have to trust me, Samantha.”

  “Trust you?” I asked on a maddened laugh. It was impossible, insane.

  “You will trust me. You will give me everything. Trust that I will take care of you. I will give you pain, but you don’t yet understand the pleasure I can offer. Now, be a good girl and don’t pull against the cuffs.”

  “Fuck you,” I hissed, my terror morphing into rage. It was too intense to bear, so my mind redirected the fear into anger.

  “Mind your language,” he rebuked. His hand tightened around my throat. I could still breathe, but he pressed down just hard enough to restrict the blood flow to my brain. I’d trained in how to choke a man out, so I knew what was happening to me. If he squeezed too hard, I’d slip into unconsciousness. Maybe even die.

  Just as panic began to sap my mind, he released the pressure. Blood rushed back to my head, and a strange high I’d never experienced soared through me. I let out a long sigh, and my entire body relaxed as a pleasant buzz quieted my mind. All my fear, my conflicting emotions, melted away, and I floated for a few ecstatic seconds.

  “That’s better,” he praised, his fingertips skimming along the line of my vulnerable artery at my neck. My skin felt electric beneath his touch, alive. A low moan left my chest, and I arched my head back, further exposing my throat to him in mindless invitation for more.

  “Stay just like that,” he commanded. His touch left my throat, his heat receding as the mattress shifted beneath me. I was aware of his hands on my ankles, one after the other. He spread my legs wide, and supple leather cuffs wrapped around my ankles to lock them in place. I didn’t tug against the restraints this time. I lay perfectly still and relaxed, relishing the quiet in my mind. This was much preferable to unrelenting terror.

  Then he touched my sex, and instinctive fear surged back. My entire body jerked, but the restraints he’d used to secure me kept my body stretched out for him.

  He gently shushed me, continuing to lightly caress me despite my struggles. “This part will be over soon,” he said, his voice almost tender. There was something slick on his fingers, a thicker substance than my own arousal. He carefully coated my labia, his fingers dipping between them before circling around my clit. I gasped and shuddered as he teased around the tightly-packed little bundle of nerves, pleasure lighting up my system despite my mounting fear. The longer his touch lingered directly on my sex, the more intense my terror grew. My entire body was shaking by the time he finally withdrew his hand, leaving a strange heat behind, as though he’d branded my sensitive flesh with his touch.

  It wasn’t an unpleasant heat. In fact, it tingled rather than burning. I squirmed and tried to press my legs together to stop the sensation. The cuffs held my ankles fast, and I was left quivering and helpless to stop what was happening to my body.

  “What are you doing to me?” I asked on a throaty whisper.

  His fingers trailed beneath my breasts, spiraling upward and inward until they reached my peaked nipples. The same slick substance coated the tight buds.

  “This is arousal cream,” he told me. “Not that you need it to feel pleasure. You’ve already soaked my hand when I’ve spanked you. This is to help you get past the fear. Soon, you’ll be desperate for me to touch your pretty pussy. You’ll beg for me to grant you release. Need will outweigh fear. Then we can move forward with your training.”

  “I don’t want to be trained,” I protested on a whine. The same tingling had set in around my nipples, making me squirm as my body instinctively sought stimulation.

  He chuckled. “Most wild things don’t. And you are a wild thing, aren’t you? You’re innocent, untouched. But your body hungers to feel pleasure. Once we get past your fears, I suspect you’ll be a very greedy girl. You’ll crave my touch. You’ve already responded so well to your spankings. You’ll learn to respond to positive reinforcement, as well.”

  “You make it sound like I’m an animal,” I forced out, trying to ignore the heat that flared between my legs. “I’m not.”

  “No, you’re not,” he agreed, his hands skimming down my sides, tracing the slight flare of my hips. “You’re a woman. But you’re mine. That means you’re whatever I want you to be. My plaything, my pet. Your sole purpose is to please me, to serve me. I’m your Master now, and it’s time you understood what that means.”

  “But I—”

  “Shhh.” He blew a stream of cool air over my nipples as he shushed me, and my protest ended on a soft cry as the tight peaks lit up with sensation. My back arched, offering my breasts up to him. His approving rumble vibrated against my skin as he pressed his lips against the soft swells, leaving feather-light kisses in a random, scorching pattern across my flesh. A strange, strangled sound left my chest, and rational thought evaporated.

  “Has any man ever touched your breasts?” he asked before flicking his hot tongue against my tight, aching nipples.

  A rough shout tore from my throat, and I thrust myself toward the delicious heat of his mouth. But my cruel restraints held me in place, and he moved away to blow another torturously cold stream of air over them. I whined and writhed, acting like the wild thing he claimed I was.

  “Answer me,” he prompted. “Be honest, and I’ll kiss your pretty pink nipples.”

  “No,” I said, the confession leaving me in a rapid-fire stream. “Not really. Not like this. I went to a convention once. I dressed up like The Dark Phoenix. From X-Men. Cosplay
, you know? So this guy was Wolverine. I met him at an after-party. He kissed me and copped a feel. But it was over my costume. So I guess that doesn’t really count. Does it? I used to think so. But I—” My lust-addled speech ended on a sharp cry when his lips touched my nipple, his tongue swirling around it before flicking the peak.

  Keening, animal sounds left me in a steady stream as he continued to stimulate my breasts, alternating between plucking at my nipples with his fingers and kissing the sting away with his soft lips. My head thrashed against the pillow, and I began to lift my hips up in wanton invitation. My core pulsed to the point of aching, my clit throbbing in time with my heartbeat.

  His palm rested on my belly, below my navel and tantalizingly close to my heated sex. His fingers traced little circular patterns just above my clit, teasing.

  “And your pretty little pussy,” he prompted. “Has any man ever touched you here?”

  “No,” I whimpered, my mind too far gone to worry over confessing my most embarrassing secrets.

  “Poor little virgin,” he murmured. “You need to be touched, don’t you?”

  “I… I want…” I bit my lip, barely holding back.

  “Tell your Master what you want,” he cajoled. “Tell me how you like to be touched. Do you put your fingers inside your tight pussy? Or do you rub your little clit?”

  “I don’t. I can’t. It’s…”

  Dirty. Wrong.

  Dirty little girl.

  Something awful stirred at the edges of my mind. I shied away from it. Instead, I focused on the heat that was consuming me, the tingling in my flesh, the gentle brush of Andrés’ fingers against my hypersensitive skin.

  “You don’t touch yourself?” His deep voice was colored with surprise. “You’ve never made yourself come?”

  “I… No.” Shame made my cheeks flame, but the heat in my sex kept me distracted. I couldn’t see, couldn’t think. All I could do was feel and listen to Andrés’ lilting voice as he asked me the most devious questions.

  “So you’ve never had an orgasm at all?”

  I shook my head and tried to lift my hips again, but his palm on my belly kept me pinned down.

  “Then let me show you what your body is capable of,” he said, the words distorted by his hungry growl. “In the future, you will beg me for this.”

  His hand finally shifted down to where I craved it most. One thick finger parted my wet folds, and my entire body tightened as he slowly slid it inside my channel. He felt huge as my inner muscles gripped him, torn between welcoming him in and pushing him out. Emotion swelled along with sensation, fear and pleasure crackling through my system. A harsh sob tore from my chest, and my tears wet the blindfold.

  “Too much,” I gasped out, twisting against my restraints. “It’s too much. Please—”

  “Don’t fight it,” he commanded, finding a secret spot at the front of my inner walls. He crooked his finger against it. At the same time, he brought his thumb down on my clit and rubbed in a demanding rhythm. “Come for me, sirenita.”

  Pleasure lit up my entire being, tearing through me with the force of a tidal wave. A raw scream echoed through the room as all my muscles tensed and shook. Bliss wracked my body, my mind. The world fell away as unrelenting bliss sang through my veins, sweeping away my lingering fear. All that existed was Andrés: his touch, his scent, his power. He’d wrung this unknown ecstasy from my soul, ruthlessly subjugating my being with earth-shattering pleasure.

  My sex tingled as he continued stroking me. Little lightning strikes of residual pleasure tormented me, making me tremble. I fully surrendered to sensation and sank back against the mattress, utterly sated and thoroughly conquered.

  Chapter 7

  Andrés pressed tender kisses against my slightly sore wrists when he removed the handcuffs that kept me bound to the bed. I didn’t move once I was free, and I didn’t stir when he unlocked the collar from around my neck. My eyes remained closed when he unknotted the blindfold; I wasn’t ready to face reality yet.

  I continued floating in quiet bliss as he unbuckled the cuffs around my ankles and carefully lifted my body up into his strong arms. He cradled me against his chest as he carried me, taking long, sure strides toward an unknown destination. I remained carefully cocooned in warm darkness, clinging to pleasure so I didn’t have to face the horror of my defeat.

  I noted that his chest was bare against my skin, his dusting of dark hair tickling my cheek. He must have removed his clothes while I lay boneless and mindless in my post-orgasmic haze.

  The world tilted, and my eyes fluttered open when my feet touched cool tiles. I watched with detached interest as Andrés reached around me and turned the knob for the shower. Water sprayed from every direction, multiple showerheads raining down. It seemed awfully decadent compared to my low water pressure, single showerhead setup at my shabby townhouse.

  My heart squeezed, and I quickly smothered my thoughts before they could start firing again. I didn’t want to think about my townhouse. About how far I was from home, even though I was located just across town. I might as well be on another planet.

  Andrés gripped my hips and guided me into the glass-fronted shower stall. The water was uncomfortably hot, and my pale skin turned pink almost instantly. He seemed to notice everything about my body, so he immediately turned the temperature to something more bearable.

  He stayed positioned behind me, and I was grateful for that. If I didn’t have to look at him, I didn’t have to process the fact that he was fully naked in the shower with me. I’d felt his erection, and that had been terrifying enough.

  He didn’t allow me much of a reprieve. His hands closed around my waist, pulling my body back against his so I could feel his hard length pressing into my ass. I tried and failed to swallow a whimper as some of my fear resurfaced, despite my best efforts to remain lost in lingering pleasure.

  “You’re still afraid of my cock,” he surmised, but he didn’t move away at the sound of my distress. “But you’re not afraid when I touch you anymore, are you?”

  To prove his point, he pumped soap into his hand from a dispenser on the wall before returning his touch to my breasts. He massaged them gently, and I moaned as his slick palms grazed my nipples. They were still tender from the arousal cream, and he made sure to tease the tight buds as he washed away the substance that lingered on my skin. My flesh tingled, but not as intensely as it had when he’d first applied the cream.

  One hand skimmed down my belly to carefully wash my sex, his other remaining at my breasts to play with my nipples. I shuddered and leaned back against him for support as pleasure flooded my body again, the tension at my core building.

  “You are a greedy girl,” he said, his voice heavy with satisfaction. “I knew you’d be like this. But you don’t deserve a reward. Not yet.”

  A humiliating whine slipped through my lips when he stopped touching me intimately. He grasped my shoulders and turned me to face him. My eyes darted around the bathroom, avoiding looking at his imposing body.

  He caught my chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting my face to his. I made the mistake of glancing up, and I found myself trapped in his steady black stare.

  “You don’t like looking at me,” he said, an acknowledgement of fact. “My scars frighten you.”

  “It’s not that,” I admitted, the words tumbling out of me in my nervousness. “I mean, you’re scary. But your scars aren’t why you scare me. Well, kind of, because they mean you’re violent. But this is just a tic I have. I don’t really like looking at anyone. I have to for work, sometimes. It takes effort. It makes me uncomfortable. I mean…” I finally managed to end my rambling confession. Why was I telling him all this?

  Because I babbled when I was nervous, that’s why. Especially around alpha males, and especially when they turned their full, potent attention on me to impose their will. I did it with Jason, and I definitely did it with Dex. I could barely look at my best friend under normal circumstances, even when I didn�
��t have a reason to be intimidated. I was always nervous around him, in that butterflies-in-my-stomach kind of way.

  Not the way Andrés made me nervous. Nervous wasn’t an intense enough word to express the enormity of what he made me feel. It was why I couldn’t look away once he captured me in his dark gaze. I never maintained eye contact with anyone like I did with him. He didn’t give me a choice in the matter.

  He considered me for a long, tense moment, his jaw tight. “Would it make you more comfortable if I told you I didn’t get these scars in a fight?”

  I blinked at him. “What?” That didn’t make any sense. “Then how—?”

  “That’s enough questions,” he cut me off. “I am a violent man, but I won’t harm you. I’ll never let anyone harm you. You’re mine, which means you’ll be protected. It also means you’ll accept my touch and my cock. Look at me.” When he said it this time, I knew he wasn’t ordering me to look him in the eye. “All of me,” he prompted when I hesitated. “Now, cosita.” The last was dark with warning, and my eyes flicked down his body before I could contemplate further defiance.

  Once my gaze landed on his cock, I couldn’t look away. I might not have been with a man in real life, but I watched porn. And, despite his scarred body, Andrés could have starred in some of the most depraved videos I’d seen. He was huge, long and thick. His cockhead was purple with arousal, and a feminine part of me marveled that this reaction was for me.

  “Touch me,” he bit out, his control slipping. I gasped when his cock bobbed, straining toward me.

  I reached out and tentatively brushed my fingertips along his shaft. His skin was soft and smooth, but he was hard beneath my touch. He hissed in a sharp breath, and I felt him pulse under my fingers. I stared in fascination. I was doing this to him, affecting him the way he’d affected me. A strange sense of heady power teased at the corners of my mind, and I struggled to resist the perverted satisfaction. I shouldn’t enjoy my captor’s lustful reaction to me.