The Consequence

by Giana Darling

  I was. My wetness leaked down the inside of my thighs. I groaned around his length, which made him groan too.

  Before I could even process the change, Sinclair had switched places with me so that I was sprawled on the sofa. He quickly pushed my legs apart and secured them wide with the seatbelts until I was spread open and immobile. I watched him beneath lowered lids as he stared at my exposed flesh, his expression tight with longing.

  “You are so beautiful, Giselle,” he breathed, leaning in to plant a kiss on each inner thigh.

  I trembled when he dipped a finger into my wetness and placed it in his mouth.

  “And you taste extraordinary.”

  I wanted to tell him to touch me harder, sink into me and take me hard but as if he could read my mind, he shook his head and settled down more comfortably on his knees.

  “I need to take my time with you right now. I want to paint your body with mine, map your breasts and thighs with my tongue and trace new paths across your hips and ass with my fingers. I want you incoherent with pleasure, so saturated in me and my love that my name is the only word in your mouth.”

  I gasped as he softly closed his lips over my clit and laved me with his tongue. From somewhere deep in my sleeping rational mind, I was astonished that he could have such an effect on my body. I only had to feel him in the room with me to have my heart racing. A single touch of his skin against mine ignited a furious fire deep in the heart of me.

  I watched his dark red head pressed between my thighs as he pleasured me with languid strokes. The sight of such a powerful man, still impossibly immaculate in a thousand dollar suit, on his knees before me made me feel dizzy with power.

  He worked me over masterfully, pausing whenever I grew too excited, licking along every erotic seam of my body until I shook with desire. I tried to press him closer, yanking his silky hair between my fists, but his warm chuckle only fueled me and the gentle press of his nose against my clit aroused me but failed to satisfy. Curses fell from my lips in a mad torrent as I begged him to make me come.

  He ignored me.

  A little while later, my muscles had grown slack and my head lolled on my neck as I murmured his name over and over again, incoherent with an overload of pleasure.

  “My sweet siren wants to come, don’t you?” he teased against the folds of my sex. “You want to come against my tongue?”

  A soft groan was all I could manage.

  I could feel his smile against my damp inner thigh. It was the sign he had been waiting for.

  With a skillful twist of his fingers and a soft nip of his teeth over the hood of my clit, I exploded at the seams. It was a messy orgasm, my hoarse shouts primal and my body flailing against my restraints as every muscle in my body clenched and unclenched in mind-blowing release.

  Before I could get my bearings, Sin had gathered my bound legs up in his arms and was pushing inside me. A rattling groan escaped me as he slid across highly sensitive tissues. I was about to protest when he ground his hips against my clit and another orgasm was wrenched from me like a waxing strip, edged deeply with pain and all the more intense for it.

  I gasped and shuddered as I held onto him, pushing my hips against his as he surged into me. His name was a mantra, a benediction on my lips. I wanted him to come inside me with a savagery that stole my breath away. My nails scoured down his back to hear his moan. I sunk my teeth deeply into that delicious ridge of muscle where his neck met his shoulder to feel him shudder against my tongue.

  “I want to feel you come inside me,” I begged.

  “Fuck,” he groaned. “Take all of me.”

  “More,” I demanded, “I need more.”

  Sin pressed his damp forehead against mine. “Come with me.”

  “Yes,” I hissed as his hips ground into me and my back arched off the couch.

  His lips caught mine and muffled my shriek of ecstasy as I pulsed around him, undone again by this man. He breathed my name against my neck and followed me into blissfulness.

  When he collapsed against me and our sweat ruined his beautiful suit, I ran a limp hand through his hair and hugged him as tightly as my spent muscles would allow. Somehow, this gorgeous creature who had mastered my body from the start was now my partner, the love of my life. I could feel our hearts beat in tandem. I let the terror I had held at bay since I had first laid eyes on him in Mexico tear through me on a deep exhale.

  “I’ve got you,” my Frenchman murmured against my neck because he always knew the right things to say. “I’ve got you now and I’m never giving you up.”

  I let the tears roll down my cheeks and I wasn’t sure if they were happy or sad, or maybe even a little bit afraid of the things our fragile new bond still had to face.

  Chapter Three.

  Sinclair

  I loved Paris the way someone might love an eccentric, acerbic great aunt who palmed them five-dollar bills and snuck vodka into their punch at family functions. The combination of her gorgeous excess, her calculated haughtiness and secret grim reminded me acutely of my reasons for loving Elena. It was wrong of me to compare my aloof admiration of the city to my feelings for the woman I had just spent the last four years of my life with, but as I rode silently through the beautiful streets of Paris, it was impossible for me not to think about my ex-girlfriend.

  We had never been to Paris together before. Giselle was a large reason for Elena’s reluctance to spend anytime in the city but we also disliked travelling together for business. The purpose of such a trip was to accomplish work, not dilute productivity with romantic dinners and afternoon visits to museums.

  The irony of my desire to do just that with Giselle was not lost on me. How could two sisters be so incredibly different and more so, invoke such contrary emotions in one man?

  I ran a hand through my hair, a nervous habit I had never kicked. I needed a haircut but Giselle liked my hair long and it was finally beginning to curl around my ears as it had in Mexico. I’d grow out my hair to the conceited length of Cage’s if it meant Elle would fist it in her small hand while I worshiped every dip and curve of her luscious body.

  She was quiet beside me, her anxieties lulled by multiple orgasms and the steadiness of my hand against the bare skin of her thigh. The trust she had in me was evident in my total influence over her body; she was warm, pliable wax under my careful touch, not only ready but willing to be molded into whatever shape and consistency I deemed best for her. No drug, adrenaline sport or any other false ecstasy could come close to the feeling that power evoked in me.

  I wanted this trip to be healing for her but more than that; I needed it to fortify our bond. We belonged together - this I knew without a doubt - but any relationship, especially one as new as ours, could bow and break under the strain of so much hatred and so many lies. I needed to tie myself to her in as many ways as conceivably possible so that no amount of external conflict could pull us apart. My selfish desire to do this was so great, I was even contemplating a fucking tattoo of her name across my chest. Unreasonably, I wondered if she might consider the same thing.

  My fingers clenched unconsciously around her thigh, bringing her bright grey eyes to mine. The serenity in her expression calmed me.

  “You are very quiet,” I noted.

  Her lips twitched. “It’s making you uncomfortable.”

  I raised my eyebrows at her, knowing it would make her laugh.

  I wasn’t disappointed.

  When she was finished giggling, she leaned towards me to press a fragrant kiss to my jaw. “You are so much more volatile than anyone knows.”

  “Because I want to know every thought that runs through the gorgeous mind of yours? That’s hardly unreasonable.”

  Her lips pursed in an expression of doubt that I was all too familiar with. Giselle wasn’t a confident woman at the best of times and I hadn’t given her much reason to believe in me. She might have believed that I loved her but she didn’t trust that I wanted to love her. I’d been fighting it for so long t
hat she obviously still felt like a burden to me.

  God, I was fucking disgusting.

  “Giselle,” I said, tugging her hands so that she was forced to face me. I ran a hand through her copper colored hair and let it rest on her cheek. “Have I spent too much time telling you that you are mine, and not enough emphasizing that I am utterly yours?”

  She smiled slightly but in the reserved mood she was in, I couldn’t tell if it was sincere or meant to placate me. Before I could question her further about it, the car pulled up on the narrow street in St-Germaine-des-Pres where we would be staying.

  I watched with the eager anticipation of a child as Giselle laid eyes on the building. Her beautiful features shone with joy as she realized where we were.

  “Sin, how did you know?” she crowed, spinning around to throw her arms around me.

  I chuckled. “I may have down a little background check at some point. I was starved for information about you when we weren’t talking,” I explained with a deceptively casual shrug. She didn’t need to know how I had spent countless hours pouring over every thing I could find about her. “I may have stumbled across your Pinterest account.”

  Her delighted laugh pealed like Parisian church bells through the town car and the sound echoed throughout my body. I was utterly dazzled by her.

  “I’ve always wanted to stay here. Did you know Oscar Wilde died here in 1900?” She pressed her nose to the glass, her hands spread wide against the pane.

  I chuckled. “That would explain why our room is named after him.”

  She spun to face me, her petal pink lips soft and dewy as they opened and closed in shock. I had to fight the urge to press them to my hardening cock.

  “You are amazing,” she breathed.

  I sunk my hand into the silky hair at the base of her neck and pulled her close until I spoke against those enticing lips. “Only for you.”

  She kissed me with smiling lips and then dove out of the car. I chuckled as I collected our luggage and followed her into the lobby. I found her standing in the small but ornate reception, her face tipped to the ceiling and glowing with joy. It took my breath away to see her like that, especially after months of causing her only pain.

  I snagged her hand as I walked past to check in but she remained blissed out on our setting and didn’t clue in to my exchange until I said, “Yes, my girlfriend and I will need a car to pick us up at eight o’clock to take us to Chez Dumonet.”

  She stared at me as I accepted the old fashioned key to out room but I ignored her until we were safely enclosed in the elevator.

  “Yes, siren?”

  “I’m your girlfriend?”

  I struggled not to smile, shrugging one shoulder instead. “A bit juvenile, I know.”

  “No,” she whispered after a brief pause. “It’s perfect.”

  “You can call yourself whatever you want, Elle, as long as it implies that you are mine.”

  She blushed beautifully.

  I led her down the hallway to our famous Oscar Wilde room, opening the door for her so I could watch her expression of awe as she passed into it. Cage had an apartment in the city, my parents had a house just outside Paris in the countryside with enough room for us and a travelling circus, but I was glad that I had decided on the hotel because it meant I got that look on her face.

  “It’s just how I imagined. Did you know he was a bit of a social pariah? He was cutting edge and sexually progressive for his age, not to mention very gay.” She smiled wryly at me. “It’s fitting we’re staying here.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “If you’re a homosexual, Elle, I’m afraid you should have told me sooner.”

  She laughed and skipped over to me, throwing her arms around my neck to pull me down for a loud, smacking kiss.

  “Thank you for this.”

  “Mmm?”

  “Thank you for taking me away. Thank you for bringing me here, to the second love of my life.”

  I smoothed a hand down her hair and collected the ends in my fist so I could tip her head back. “Just how thankful are you?”

  Her eyes darkened as her pupils dilated and her voice was breathy when she said, “Why don’t you let me show you?”

  My cock twitched when she gracefully sunk to her knees before me. Her gorgeous red hair shimmered like flames trapped in a silk tapestry. I had to swallow the lump of longing that clogged my throat. I had her, she was right in front of me, begging for me to take her and own her in the exact way I longed to but the residual panic of loss still haunted me and it took me a moment to center myself.

  I ran a hand down that crazy beautiful hair, pressing her face into my crotch as I did so. She breathed in deeply, moaning at my scent. My fingers flexed against her head.

  “Open my pants and take my cock out.”

  A little shiver ran down her back as her quick fingers undid my trousers and wrapped around my painfully hard erection. There was a bright flush painted high on her cheeks and her fingers shook slightly with the force of her arousal. It was enough to make any man feel like a fucking king. How could you not when you had a queen worshipping at your feet?

  “Hands behind your back. I want you to use that pretty mouth on me.”

  I’d never enjoyed blow jobs before as much as I did with Elle. It had a lot to do with the sight of her pretty pink lips wrapped lewdly around the width of my shaft, how she strained to take the length of me down her throat, working passed her gag reflex to slot me into that tight canal. Don’t even get me start of the thrill I got from looking down into her eyes with my dick stuffed down her throat. But mostly, I loved that as soon as I pulled her off me so I could run my fingers, tongue or cock through her pussy, it would be absolutely drenched with arousal.

  My erection snapped back up to my stomach when she let go but she was quick to run her tongue up the seam of my balls and the underside of my shaft before taking the entire thing in her mouth with one strong downward suck. She moaned loudly and the sound vibrated through me, sending sparks up my spine.

  “You want this don’t you, my siren? You love to take me straight down your throat.”

  She moaned loudly. Her lips were tight around my tip as she slowly took every inch of me into her mouth. She tipped her head carefully to look up at me and there was pure, unadulterated rapture in her eyes. The sight was so erotic it made me see stars.

  Before I couldn’t, I pulled her off my cock, wincing at the intense pleasure of her lips sucking hard as she tried to keep me in her mouth.

  “I have plans for tonight though, and they do not include coming in your mouth.”

  She pouted then licked her slick, swollen lips greedily, like she couldn’t stand the absence of my taste in her mouth.

  Fuck, she was phenomenal.

  Before she could react, I had lifted her into my arms and was depositing her on the bed.

  “Close your eyes,” I commanded softly, rewarding her with a kiss to each shut lid as she obeyed.

  I got off the bed and went to retrieve the bag of toys I had brought from my suitcase by the front door. Quickly, I grabbed what I needed from the fully stocked bar and shucked my clothes. On quiet feet, I returned to see Giselle lying perfectly still and serene, just as I had left her.

  “Good girl,” I said, as I moved around the bed to secure her hands and feet to the old-fashioned bedposts. “I’ve waited ages to have you like this and now we have time, I will not waste it.”

  I got off the bed, smiling slightly at her moan of disappointment, and laid out the implements I would need so that they were in easy reach on the bedside table.

  “I’m going to touch every inch of your delicious body until your skin is singing and you are beyond begging, until you are shaking and mute with pleasure.”

  I watched a flush sweep over her body, my words like a brush inked with desire and brushed across all that creamy skin. I hadn’t craved a paintbrush between my fingers in years but the urge to paint her like that was nearly as strong as the urge to take her.r />
  So, I compromised.

  She gasped as I drew the thick, plush head of a clean paintbrush from just behind her ear, down the elegant line of her neck and into the hollow of her collarbone. Her skin pebbled under the soft, ticklish strokes and when I passed circles over her tight nipples, her chest arched off the bed to increase the contact.

  “I wish you could see all your gorgeous, creamy skin blush with the pleasure that I’m giving you,” I said before groaning in the back of my throat. Her breathing stuttered in response as she sunk further into sub space. “It is just a pale pink under this brush but it will be reddened by the time I’m done with you.”

  I circled her naval, watching her belly flutter in anticipation, but I dipped the bristles in the divot there. She squirmed when I traced the tender intersection of her legs and groin.

  “Be still,” I ordered.

  Immediately, she held herself taught, only her pulse still bouncing madly in her breasts and throat.

  “Good girl,” I soothed, as I wet the end of the brush in the well of her arousal and swirled the dampened end teasingly over her clit.

  Her hips shot off the bed.

  “I told you to be still,” I reminded her, my voice saturated with displeasure.

  She shivered, fisting her hands in the sheets and biting her bottom lip in an attempt to control herself.

  I passed the brush once more over her swollen button, round and round in progressively harder strokes until her mound glistened wetly in the low light. Leaning over the bed but careful not to touch her with anything other than the brush, I blew cool air across her sex. Her legs quivered in response. I dipped the brush in her dripping pussy once more before I brought it to her breasts. Her nipple pulled ever tighter as her juices cooled and dried on her skin. She moaned loudly when I followed the path of the brush stroke with my tongue and sucked a nipple into my mouth. I drew on it hard, curling my tongue around her peak.

  “Ah,” she exhaled a long, low gasp when I did the same thing to the other nipple.

  “Your pussy tastes so fucking sweet, Elle. Rich and sweet like wildflower honey. Here,” I said, bringing the brush back to her sex for more of that sugary nectar. “Try it.”