by Cherrie Lynn
Now he laughed outright. “You want it to be ‘cheesecake’?”
“Cheesecake is close to my heart.”
“All right, then. ‘Cheesecake’ it is. I’ll still go get you some cheesecake if you want it that bad, Emma.”
“Maybe when we go out.” She was silent for a moment while he stroked her soft, silky hair, dreaming of all the things he’d like to do to her body. “When would we do this, then? Scene?”
“Given the nature of your fantasies, I’d rather keep you in the dark. The element of surprise is part of it, right?”
He felt the tremor go through her. Fuck. So responsive. “Oh. Right.”
“Just remember your word if you feel too uncomfortable with anything I do.”
“What if I get caught up in the moment and try to fight you?”
“I won’t stop until I get that word. You can scream, you can hit me. You can bite, you can tell me ‘no.’ You can cry. Do them all, if you want, if you need to. But unless I feel you’re incapable of making decisions about your own safety, I won’t stop.” He smirked at her. “Until I hear ‘cheesecake.’”
“Why would I be incapable of making decisions about my safety?”
“It happens,” he said. “Getting caught up in the moment, like you said. Emotions run high, euphoria sets in . . . you might allow more than you ordinarily would. I have to go in knowing your limits.”
“Don’t call me names,” she said quickly, drawing his attention to the way her mouth turned down. Her gaze skated away from his. “I had a boyfriend in college who liked talking dirty, and that’s fine, but he would call me his little slut, or his dirty bitch. I never spoke up, but I never liked it. If you called me your whore or something, given our arrangement—”
“I won’t do that,” he said, seething at the thought of any other man with his hands on her. “But you didn’t speak up with him, and you have to do that with me.”
“Okay. I will.”
“Anything else?”
“I’m not sure. I might have to learn as we go, I guess?”
“Nothing wrong with that. As long as you—”
“Speak up,” she finished for him, giving a light laugh. “I get it.”
“I hope you do. Because that’s of utmost importance. You can’t let me go beyond what you’re willing to allow because you think I want it or you’re afraid of disappointing me.” That was his primary concern with her. She had spirit, but she was so eager to please him.
“What if I’m boring?”
Looking down at her, with her shining eyes appearing forest green in the dim room, he wondered how in the hell she could ever think she would bore him. Had she even been paying attention? “If all you do is lie there and look at me like you are right now, I promise, it won’t be boring.”
She pulled him down for a kiss, her sweetness drawing him in and drowning him. She didn’t realize how deadly it was, just the gentle touch of her lips, the tentative explorations of her tongue. Any man who had been lucky enough to have her but hadn’t absolutely cherished her was a damn fool.
Maybe that included him, because instead of wooing her and seducing her like she deserved, he’d hatched this plot to take her, own her. And she’d almost gotten hurt. It sent a sharp pang through his chest that made him draw back and look at her, caressing the softness of her cheek, tracing his thumb around the perfect lines of her lips.
Was he fucking insane to do this?
* * *
Damien kept his promise; a few days after the accident, when her soreness had worn off and she felt better, he spent the day with her. They strolled the beach in Galveston, something Emma hadn’t done in a long time even though it was around an hour’s drive away. The salty air was cleansing, the cool water rushing around her feet exhilarating, but perhaps the most fun thing about the day was Damien’s insistence on slathering her with sunscreen every half hour. She knew she was pale, but jeez. At least she knew she wouldn’t burn.
It was a perfectly beautiful day, the sun glaring down from an impossibly blue, cloudless sky. She spent time soaking up the rays—reflecting them, rather—and admiring Damien’s gorgeous, muscular build and the way she could always tell he was looking at her bikini-clad body even through his sunglasses.
She wasn’t the only one admiring his build, either. Every woman who passed by, a college-aged tart or middle-aged mom, checked him out.
This was the life. When they were tired and in need of some shade, he took her to his brother Mike’s beach house, where she attempted to seduce him in the shower but was left pouting when she was thwarted. His fat, luscious cock there, all for her, hard and dripping, and he wouldn’t let her have it no matter how she pleaded, not even when she presented her ass to him and wiggled it. He only gave it a consolatory slap and said, “Later,” his willpower ironclad. Despite her disappointment, that word made her shiver.
She was no longer so sure she ever wanted to go back home.
Back at his place, they threw together a pasta salad and recuperated from the sun’s draining effects by cuddling in his bed and finding random movies to watch on Netflix. Perfect end to a perfect day. She fell asleep in his arms.
Chapter Eighteen
She opened her eyes to absolute blackness. Something’s not right. Too dark. Her mind tossed explanations at her—closed curtains? Was it still the dead of night? Her internal clock whirred in confusion, and she turned her head seeking a clock or her phone, only gradually realizing she couldn’t see because something was over her eyes.
Instantly awake, her heart jumped into her throat and her lungs burned.
“Don’t move.”
The disembodied voice came to her from what she thought was an area near the door. It was Damien, she knew it was, but . . . it wasn’t her smooth, detached Damien. It wasn’t the Damien she could smart off to, chastise or argue with, or the one who had been so careful with her the past few days. This was the shark who would tear her apart if she fucked with him.
Her lips opened to speak, but he must have been waiting for that. Before she could breathe one note into her voice, he said, “Close your mouth or I’ll gag you.”
Emma closed her mouth so fast her teeth snapped together, a reflex response, but the heat flooding between her legs intensified when she thought of him shoving something into her mouth. Adrenaline surged through her veins, but she didn’t dare push him, not yet.
The covers had been pulled from her body; she could feel nothing but cool air circulating over her naked skin. There was nothing to hold on to as she drifted in this strange black void.
Suddenly, her hand was taken, something silky wound around her wrist, and her arm was jerked straight and held fast. It all happened so quickly she could hardly make sense of it, and she hadn’t heard him move. She gasped, testing the strength of the bond and finding it secure but not tight enough to hurt or cut off circulation. That was reassuring just when she thought she might panic. But then her other hand was yanked back and bound similarly, rendering her virtually helpless.
Her chest heaved, her body burned. If only he would say something, touch her, comfort her, something. She was scared, but even so, she could feel the slickness between her thighs when she rubbed them together, but she didn’t have that luxury for long. His strong fingers clamped around one ankle, and then it was tied down. With her other leg, her last remaining limb that was still under her power, she fought him, pulling away and kicking out, but he grabbed her and wrenched her down, chuckling darkly. Jesus Christ, she hadn’t quite realized he was that strong. A whimper emitted from her throat. Surely it was him. He’d told her he wouldn’t share, but how would she know? How would she really know if he had someone else in the room? He seemed to be everywhere at once, moving so silently and, behind her mask or blindfold or whatever it was, she felt dizzy, off-balance.
“Now that’s a pretty sight,” he said, his voice definitely coming from the foot of the bed. She imagined him there, his dark eyes roaming her exposed body, and he
r heart rate redoubled. The frantic organ was already about to beat out of her chest. She felt her breasts quivering with every heavy breath. Not knowing where he would be or what he would do next sent a thrill down her spine. Was he naked, was he hard? Would he fuck her soon? Please let him fuck her soon, just like this. She licked her lips and squirmed against her bonds, impatience building between her legs.
From seemingly nowhere, warm breath gusted across her left nipple, and Emma gasped as it pebbled. The lightest touch she’d ever felt in her life brushed it, and she tried to arch toward the sensation, but it was fleeting. Her skin prickled from the back of her neck down that entire side of her body.
“Damien,” she pleaded, twisting her hips on the bed.
“What did I say about that mouth?” he asked silkily, and the unmistakable hardness of his teeth gently tugged her nipple as she bit down on her bottom lip and struggled not to make a sound. “I’d love to clamp these, see how hard I could get them, but that might be too much for you this time.” As he spoke, his voice drew farther away and then closer again, coming around to the other side of her. He gave the same delectable treatment to her other nipple, only he licked it and sucked it as her breathing grew frantic through her nose.
With sight gone, all she could do was feel. Smell. Hear. She longed to taste, and she licked her neglected lips, wishing he would get the hint and kiss her, even knowing he wouldn’t until he wanted to. Desire pooled higher in her belly, an aching emptiness that begged for him. Something impossibly light and soft trailed up her inner thigh. Not his fingers—it felt fluffy, like a feather, and it would have tickled if she hadn’t been so turned on. All it did was torment her by denying her the pressure she needed. Hard, fast, brutal pressure. Coupled with his wet mouth sucking her nipple, it sent a jolt between her legs that almost made her cry out before she could clamp down on the sound.
“Good girl,” he said, noticing her struggle, and his words made her beam inwardly, but as long as he was talking, his mouth wasn’t on her, and she wanted that back. “You might get what you need after all.”
Yes! Yes, yes, yes, give me what I need. He might think she was being good, but inside, she was screaming at him.
The feather-soft thing moved to her other thigh, leaving trails of sensation in its wake as it moved inexorably toward her apex. Just when she thought it would brush her there, it moved up her stomach, her muscles tensing under it, and to her other nipple. He drew languid circles around it, bringing his mouth back down and sucking again.
Oh God, could she come like this? Would she get in trouble? Everything was tightening up from her belly down.
“Don’t you dare come yet,” he ordered, and it all shut down at once at his sharp tone. She would have curled into a wounded ball if she hadn’t been held open for him. Maybe he read her expression, or her full-body reaction, or maybe he was going easy on her because it was her first time, because his voice gentled as he asked, “Do you need to come, Emma?”
“Yes,” she whimpered. Then she remembered a tip Liz had given her over cheesecake the other day. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s real sweet. I don’t need that, but I like it.” The shifting of the bed as his weight came down was almost as much a relief as the feel of his hot naked skin on hers. She hadn’t realized she was slicked with sweat until they slid against each other. Or maybe it was his sweat, but it didn’t matter. She’d never felt him as acutely as she did right now. At last, he kissed her, and she’d never tasted him like this, either. Rich and dark and sweet. As she opened her mouth to devour him, though, he pulled away, and she wasn’t sure how much more of this teasing she could take. Her mouth opened to call his name but she caught herself at the last minute.
“Look at that pout,” he said. “I’m going to bite that bottom lip if you don’t pull it in, doll.”
“Please,” she whispered, undulating against him as much as her bonds would allow.
“Is this what you need?” His fingertip trailed through her wetness, and a shock went through her body when he brushed her throbbing clit. She nodded frantically, afraid to speak since he’d let her last involuntary infraction slide. He might stop. “You can answer when I ask you a question.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Do you know how beautiful you look all spread out for me?” She felt him shift and move, and then his hands were on her inner thighs, and she felt him looking at her there as his thumbs gently pulled her apart. “Fuck, I can see how wet you are. You’re glistening. You’ve dripped onto my sheets, Emma.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, not sure what else he wanted her to say. A blush roared high in her cheeks.
“Don’t be sorry. You’re going to need to be this wet when I fuck you.”
Thank. God. She wanted to ask exactly when that would be, but she didn’t dare. The damp heat of his mouth came down on the inside of her thigh and he kissed and nibbled a path up, and up, and up, but he stopped short of licking her between her legs. She wanted so badly to grab his head and shove him there that she pulled against her bonds until her wrists ached.
“I want you to come,” he told her, the command back in his voice. “As soon as I put it in you, just like the first time, when you were so hot you couldn’t wait for me. You nearly made me lose it, Emma, you pulled me so deep. Do it again.”
She nodded her eagerness, felt him sliding his knees under her thighs to tilt her hips up. It pulled the ties on her ankles tight, but that added restriction only heightened her longing.
“You make me so fucking hard,” he growled, his hands on her hips. In the blackness behind her blindfold, he was her faceless stranger come to ravish her, and his first deep thrust into her trembling pussy slid so easily but stretched her so wide it drew a keening cry from her lips. He was so big, so hot, he scalded her, the friction and the heat of his flesh and hers melding into some kind of ecstatic alchemy that flooded her entire body in a rush of blood and need that obliterated all else. Every beat of her heart pushed it into the furthest reaches of her being. Pain and pleasure and fear had never been so intertwined, and she couldn’t be bothered to separate the threads and decide what was what. He’d demanded she come, and she came, almost as if the words alone had programmed something inside her to lift off.
“God, yes,” he groaned above her as she spasmed around him, her entire body jerking and shaking. He gave her no quarter, thrusting hard and deep and wringing every shred of need from her until there was nothing left. She collapsed in exhaustion, but he kept going, and her body kept responding. Emma wanted so much to hold him now that tears pricked behind her eyes. The fantasy was wonderful, but she wanted him.
“I want to see you,” she said weakly, not sure if she was allowed to speak or if she should use her safe word to stop things for a minute. But a split second later, the mask was pushed up from her eyes and he leaned over her, kissing her deeply. “I want to touch you, too,” she murmured between mouthfuls of his delicious tongue. He pulled back and his fingers went to work on the ties at her left wrist.
“Ordinarily I wouldn’t do this without your word,” he said, sending her a side glance. “But we’ll go easy for now.”
“I understand,” she said, nodding, still shivering beneath him. She was glad he would make concessions for her this time. “Cheesecake. I remember it.”
Chuckling, he finished one hand and went to work on the other. Sighing with relief, she pulled her wrists to her chest, rubbing first one and then the other. “Any objections to leaving your feet for a few minutes?” he asked, and she shook her head.
“No, they’re fine.” After her deprivation, he felt so good, and she traced the curves and dips of his back muscles with her fingertips as he lowered himself to her again, kissing her gently as his body moved into hers.
She came twice more before he did, and she was glad the mask was gone, because she would never want to be denied watching him in his pleasure. It was a moment when he was stripped bare, when his walls dropped, when she saw into him and
knew exactly what he was feeling for a few seconds in time. The hot rush of him inside her, the erratic pulses of his cock, all of it combined was just as exhilarating as her own climaxes, and there was little that could compete with those. She also loved how he lowered himself over her, and for a few minutes as she stroked his hair, he almost felt like hers.
Almost.
Chapter Nineteen
The twinkling lights of fabulous Las Vegas were laid out like a blanket of fallen stars as the plane circled for a landing. Emma practically had her nose pressed to the glass, watching those lights rise higher and higher to meet them. It had never been a city she had much interest in visiting, but as the trip drew nearer, she’d become more and more excited. She so seldom got any opportunities to travel, and lounging poolside or shopping until she dropped while Damien was at the poker tables all day sounded like heaven to her.
“It’s beautiful,” she gushed, turning a big grin on Damien, who’d taken the aisle seat so she could have the window. “I guess you’ve seen this view a hundred times.”
“It’s like a second home,” he said, casting a careless glance out the window and going back to his tablet.
“Oh, you’re too jaded,” she said, picking up her cell phone to snap some pictures even though they would never do the view justice. Sitting back at last, she asked, “So what’s your schedule like for the next several days?”
“We start at eleven A.M. tomorrow. I’ll be there all day, with short breaks between levels and a dinner break. We’ll wrap up around midnight. If I don’t get eliminated—”
“Which you won’t,” she said.
“—Which, most likely, I won’t,” he said with a grin, “then I’ll get the next day off and it’ll start up again Tuesday and go on like that for the next several days. On day seven we play down to the final nine.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” she said. “It’s so much repetition.”