God, she felt so exposed. Her shiver had nothing to do with being cold.
She couldn’t meet his gaze, couldn’t look away from the sight of her own body, spread lewdly wide and naked for his pleasure. She felt the cool air against her hot flesh, saw the deep red of her labia and the dark, fiery brown of her curls.
And she saw his hand, large and strong and possessive upon her.
“Very nice,” he murmured while his fingertips twirled and tangled in her curls. “I am pleased to see you know how to behave yourself, dushka.”
His fingers flexed, pulling the short strands of hair and tugging little pinpricks of pain from her skin. The sweet, sharp sensations made her pussy clench and forced a moan from her throat.
Her eyes drifted shut until his free hand raised her chin and he ordered her to look at him.
“You look very pretty like this, Regina.” His hand left her chin and smoothed over her until her skin faded to silk and his palm rested in the valley of her tightly corseted waist. “But do you know why a woman in a corset is really so appealing to a man?”
His voice sounded casual, even indifferent, but the feel of his lean fingers petting her mound made Reggie quiver. She couldn’t concentrate. She could barely remember the question, but he clearly waited for an answer.
“Because—” It came out as a squeak, and she cleared her throat to start again. “Because it exaggerates her figure?”
Her hips rocked forward, trying to force his fingers lower. They were so close to her clit, but she didn’t want them close. She wanted them on.
He evaded her.
“Not really,” he murmured. “Yes, the corset enhances her figure, but no more than a good bra and a tight pair of jeans. No, there are other reasons. Deeper reasons.”
Reggie bit back a moan. The only deeper she cared about in that moment was the deeper caress of his fingers. If he expected her to be able to follow his conversation when his fingertips rested less than two inches from her swollen and needy clit, he was insane.
His fingers began to wander, bypassing her clit and sinking down the curve of her pubis to brush delicately over her slick, flushed lips, and she knew she was insane. The man was driving her crazy. She sucked in her breath with a hiss and canted her hips higher. He only lightened his touch.
“A man sees two irresistible things in a corseted woman.”
His fingers teased her sensitive tissues while his tone sounded like a professor at the lectern. She wanted to kill him.
Right after she tossed him down and raped him.
“First, the restriction on her movement makes it impossible to run from him,” he continued, seemingly oblivious to her violent thoughts. “It places her at his mercy, appeals to his primitive instincts. It makes him feel powerful in comparison.”
How Dmitri could not feel powerful when his tormenting fingers decided whether she would live or die, Reggie couldn’t understand. If he gained more control over her, he would have to force the breath in and out of her lungs. The man was killing her.
A split second later, his hand shifted, and Reggie knew she’d been right. He’d killed her. His exploring fingers halted and withdrew. She whimpered a protest, but her whimper became a scream when his finger returned, parting her wet folds and plunging deep inside.
Dmitri was a large man with large hands, and the extent of her arousal combined with the swelling of her inner tissue to make that one finger feel as large as a penis. Her body felt stretched and full and achy.
“And second…”
He’s still talking. How the hell can he talk? Oh, God!
His free hand slid around to her bottom, pushing her hips forward and rocking her pelvis against his hand. Her clit bumped his wrist, and she gasped.
Her breathing grew harsh, and he leaned forward, speaking into her ear until she felt his words as much as heard them. “Second, it reminds him that a woman’s body is at its most beautiful when it is bound and shaped by his hands.”
She couldn’t help herself. She shuddered, her entire body racked by it, flooding Dmitri’s hand with moisture. She came on a long, high whimper, her body clenching around his invading finger. She couldn’t believe it—one finger and she came like a porn star. What would happen when he actually took off his clothes and got around to taking her?
Her hands released their death grip on the bedspread and reached up to touch his broad, muscular chest.
“Please, Misha,” she panted. Struggling to catch her breath. “Won’t you take your clothes off? I want to see you. I want to touch you.”
“Maybe later, if you continue to be a good girl,” he said dismissively, removing her hands and placing them flat against the bed beside her hips. “For now, we will continue as I wish. Stay still, and close your eyes.”
She closed her eyes and tried not to move, but when his hand slid from between her legs and he stepped away, she whimpered and reached for him. She felt bereft without his touch and his overwhelming presence beside her. The air felt empty where he had stood.
“Hush, dushka.”
Easy for him to say.
She drew in shallow, shaky breaths and listened hard. She wanted to know what he was doing. Her mind swam with the possibilities, but he moved silently, giving her no clues.
He seemed gone for hours while she knelt there on the bed, panting and exposed like some lewd offering to a pagan god. Her nerves tingled, but before she could register awareness of his return, he slipped his hand into her hair and tugged, tumbling her back onto the mattress in a blur of satin and skin. Her arms were dragged above her head, wrapped with a soft, silky cord, and bound to something solid and immovable. A second later, his weight shifted, and she felt her thighs pulled apart, her ankles roped with the same type of cord and tied securely to the bedposts.
He accomplished it all so quickly she didn’t have time to gasp a protest before she found herself secured spread-eagle to her bed. She just lay there, her head spinning, until the rasp of a zipper knocked her straight back into reality.
Her eyes flew open. “What was that?”
Dmitri chuckled. “Clearly not what you thought,” he teased, holding up a half-open duffel bag so she could see it. He cast a pointed look to the button fly of his jeans. “Though even if it had been, would that have been a reason for disobeying my commands?”
Her eyes snapped closed, and she shook her head. “No, Misha.”
“I thought not.” His fingertip brushed the crescent of her lowered eyelashes. “You must try harder if you wish to be a good girl, milaya.”
She heard him rummaging through the bag and stiffened when she realized he hadn’t brought it with him. Her stomach turned a slow somersault when she remembered the bag of tricks her friends had left at her apartment. Her bossy, interfering friends.
Oh, God.
She gave a surreptitious tug at her bindings, but they held fast. The cord Dmitri had used might feel soft against her skin, but it held fast, as did his knots. Clearly, the man knew what he was doing.
Reggie couldn’t decide if his talent for this kind of game meant she should start screaming and hope for nosy neighbors, or bend her knees, wiggle her ass, and shout, “Come and get me, big boy!”
In the end, she just lay still and listened to her heart pound. And tried to ignore the images crashing through her mind. Images of herself, bound and helpless while this dark, mysterious stranger positioned her and took her and slowly drove her out of her mind.
After endless, agonizing minutes, she caught the muffled thump of the bag against the hardwood floor and felt the dip of the mattress when he moved onto the bed beside her.
“You can open your eyes now.”
Reggie did, and wasted no time in scanning the bed and nightstand for whatever implements of destruction he had removed from the duffel. From her limited perspective—the bindings prevented her from lifting anything more than her head—she couldn’t see a thing. Wary, she turned back to Dmitri. He looked amused.
“If I wa
nted you to see what I was doing, I wouldn’t have made you close your eyes, would I?” His mouth curved in a little smile, and he ran his fingers across her collarbone, skimming them down her side until they curled around her thigh in a brief, disarmingly affectionate squeeze. “Now I want you to see what I’m doing.”
She saw.
She saw those beautiful, powerful hands of his reach up to the bodice of her corset. She saw them shift the heavy layers of silk away from her breast, exposing a hard little nipple. It tightened further in the cool air, and she flinched when the backs of his fingers brushed against it while he folded the fabric under itself and tucked it out of the way. He repeated the action on the other side, making her nipples ache and her breath catch. When he finished, the corset supported her lush breasts, holding them high and full above her, completely exposed to his eyes and his hands.
She saw them offered up to him, pale and swollen and pouting for his touch, but when his thumb and forefinger closed over one erect peak, she stopped seeing. All she could do was feel.
Dmitri pinched, his touch firm but gentle. Reggie sighed and shifted restlessly. Against her aroused bud, the pressure felt like a caress. She needed more. Her eyes began to drift shut.
“No,” he growled. “Look at me.”
She struggled to obey.
“You liked that.”
He seemed to wait for an answer, so she forced herself to nod.
“But it wasn’t enough for you.”
God, did he have to point out what a pervert she was? She blushed, but shook her head.
“Then I should not repeat it.” He withdrew his hand, and her heart sank.
“No, please,” she gasped, arching her back to offer her breasts up to him. “Please, Misha. Do it again.”
She felt his silence, counted his pause in her racing heartbeats. His hand slid back to her nipple, and he repeated the pinch with the exact same amount of pressure. “Like that?”
“No,” she moaned, shaking her head. “I want…more. Please, Misha.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Please. Harder.”
He removed his hand altogether. “I don’t think so. If you cannot be clear with me, I must assume you do not really want this.”
The loss of his touch made her chest tighten in fear. “Please don’t leave me like this,” she whispered, on the verge of tears. “Please, Misha.”
“Please, what?” His tone sounded polite, but bored, and she knew he wouldn’t cut her any slack.
She wanted to slap his face and walk away, but tied to her own bed, neither was an option. Besides, she wanted him inside her so desperately she was prepared to negotiate.
Hell, she was prepared to surrender.
She licked her dry lips, took a deep breath. “Misha, would you please pinch my nipple harder?”
She heard his silence, felt him stretch it out for long minutes. He knew he tortured her, and she knew he did it on purpose.
“I don’t think so,” he said abruptly. “I think we need to remind you of your position.”
Embarrassment and anger opened Reggie’s eyes, and she jerked hard against her bindings, scowling furiously up at him. “What? Somehow being tied half-naked to my bed isn’t a good enough reminder?”
She knew she sounded snippy, but damn it, he’d made her beg and then he’d refused her. It almost killed her mood.
“Clearly not.” He turned his back and reached down to the duffel he’d left on the floor. “You must not take your position very seriously, or you wouldn’t still be talking back to me, would you?”
He shook his head and clucked his tongue in admonishment. “No, I think before we go any further, you need a crash course in remembering both your place and your manners.”
Her scowl didn’t budge, not until he straightened up and turned to face her. At that point, her expression slid right into something less like defiance and more like shock. Bordering on panic.
In his left hand, Dmitri held an impressively sized dildo. In his right, he grasped a black leather flogger with tails as long as his forearm. Above them both, his expression remained polite and impassive.
“Now then, I think we’re ready to get started.”
Chapter 6
“Misha? Maybe we could talk about this first…”
Dmitri stepped close to the side of the bed until he looked directly down at her. “What do we need to talk about, Regina?”
Damn it. His use of her name failed to reassure her. What had happened to the endearments? She scrambled to regroup. “I just thought…well, this isn’t…quite what I was expecting. When I pictured this moment.”
“On the contrary,” he corrected her, “this is precisely what you were expecting. This is how you envisioned submitting to a man, is it not?”
Reggie frowned. He spoke as if he knew that for sure, as if he’d read her mind again. And here she’d been doing so well pretending that hadn’t happened.
God, what are you thinking? It couldn’t have happened. Things like that just don’t happen! This is not an episode of Ghost Whisperer.
“No it isn’t,” she protested, ignoring her niggling conscience. A situation like this called for judicious lying. Perhaps even through her teeth. “I thought it would be—”
“Exactly as I have presented it to you,” he finished firmly, cutting straight through her excuses. He set the toys down on the nightstand and sat beside her, cupping her cheek in one hand. “Do not lie to me, dushka. Not about anything. I will not tolerate it.”
“How do you know I’m lying?” She didn’t really want an answer, but she didn’t want to head back to the scary territory they’d just left either.
“I know your thoughts, milaya. You have a very strong mind. Oh, do not be missish or act as if this shocks you,” he said when she tried to look disbelieving. “You knew this at the bar, and yet you still let me bring you home. You feel as drawn to me as I feel to you.”
Right. Like she would admit to that one. The last thing this man needed was more ammunition against her. He already had her so hot, she felt as if she were melting from the inside out.
“I’ll admit I noticed something weird before now, and I can’t deny I’m attracted to you, since I did let you get me naked and tie me up,” she conceded. “But I still don’t know how you can claim to read my mind. That kind of thing is impossible.”
“It is quite possible, as you well know.” He sounded impatient. “Shall I prove to you how possible it truly is, Regina Elaina?”
Oh, shit. No one ever added her middle name unless she was in really big trouble.
Reggie backpedaled hastily, which was quite a trick, considering her feet were still tied to the bedposts.
“That’s not necessary. I’m sure—” She broke off when she saw his expression.
He stared at her, his eyes narrowed, his lips firmed into a thin line.
She braced herself for a wave of anger. Somehow she had the feeling Dmitri’s temper could be explosive, but nothing detonated. Instead, she found herself fascinated by the changing expressions that played across his face.
When stern discipline shifted to hunger, followed by amused satisfaction, she decided anger might be a better choice.
“Oh, Regina, you naughty girl,” he purred, leaning close and bracing his arms on either side of her. He lowered his face until his breath tickled her skin. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to taunt a hungry man?”
She swallowed hard, her eyes wide and wary while she stared into his eyes, only inches from hers. He couldn’t possibly know what she had been imagining.
“I will never let another touch you, milaya, but I can give you what you dream of. Would you like me to fulfill your darkest fantasies, Regina?”
She started to shake her head, but when the first touch rasped against her skin, she froze. Her eyes opened impossibly wide, and her lips parted on a soundless gasp. She could see his arms had not moved. His hands remained planted on the mattress on either side of her head, supporting his weight as he leane
d over her, yet she felt a dozen hot, eager hands caressing her naked flesh.
Firm fingers tightened around her puckered nipples, pinching and tugging the rosy flesh. Hands slid up her thighs, over the round warmth of her belly. More hands invaded her body, pressing into the heat between her spread thighs, parting her slick folds and penetrating her. She felt one finger enter her, then two, then three, stretching her uncomfortably wide while her lover remained unmoving above her.
The phantom hands multiplied, touching every inch of her skin at once. They kneaded her ass, stroked and probed along the secret cleft, parted her round cheeks and rubbed erotic circles around her rosebud.
Unseen fingers pumped steadily into her dripping pussy, and Reggie cried out. She felt like a dozen lovers caressed her, each demanding a response from her overwhelmed senses. But the only lover she could see remained hard and motionless above her, his black eyes blazing while he watched her shiver on the brink of orgasm.
Fear welled up in her. She couldn’t understand what he was doing to her, how he could make her feel these things, and all at once she wanted nothing more than to get away from him and from the power he wielded over her.
“No!” she shouted, trying to twist away from the invisible hands, but they were everywhere, and the silk ropes held her pinned for their exploration.
She squeezed her eyes shut. They’re not real! she told herself, desperately willing her senses to ignore what her mind couldn’t accept. It’s a trick. No one is touching you. No one is here but Dmitri. It’s a trick. Ignore it, and it will stop. But it didn’t stop.
The fingers inside her thrust faster, the thumb on her clit rubbed harder, tighter circles, and she began to cry.
“Stop,” she whimpered. “Please stop.”
The hands froze, not withdrawing, but going completely still. Dmitri’s breath stirred the hair beside her ear, but all she could hear was the throbbing beat of her own heart and the ragged sound of her breath sawing in and out of her lungs.
She heard his voice rumbling so close to her ear his lips brushed the sensitive lobe.
“Why should I stop?” he asked, soft and low and purring. “This is what you imagine, late at night, when you stroke your own needy flesh. This is what you feel in your mind when you rub your little clit and try to fill yourself with your own little fingers. Why not let me give you what you want, Regina?”
One Bite with a Stranger Page 6