“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” I stammer angrily, pulling at my top and then sitting there awkwardly. Thank God for a decent bra.
“Perfect,” he says haughtily, staring at my now heaving chest. “Shall we carry on? And where exactly did that come from?” he asks with a smart arsed smile creeping over his face as he points to my belly button pendant - my one and only rebellious streak as a teenager, one I particularly love, and I so knew he’d bring it up. Why the hell I didn’t wear it the first night, I do not know. I look down at the diamonds dangling from the charm.
“Do you have a problem with it?”
“No, not at all. It’s lovely and will definitely be of use to me.” My eyes narrow as I fiddle with said charm and wonder why the hell it could be useful. “Now, are you ready?”
Right, you bastard. Game on.
I force the play as best I can, but he’s just too quick. He must be at least five moves ahead because I’m playing at three to four and he’s slaughtering me. Time after time he defends and moves pieces to ensure his victory and another item of clothing is removed, along with any thought of winning. He counters everything I have and eventually I am left in just my bra and panties, while he sits there looking ravishingly exquisite in his blue shirt and black jeans, not an item of clothing having been removed from his body, much to my irritation. Interestingly though, I am no longer feeling awkward and frankly, the thought of being near naked around him is just too much. His constant glances at my body have made me hyper aware of the lust that is radiating through his pores and his darkening eyes have me quaking at the knees for him to finish the game or me. Either will be absolutely fine. As long as it ends up with him on me, I couldn’t care less.
Then, finally, I see him deliberately reach for the wrong piece. He’s far too good to have made that sort of mistake. He slowly looks up into my eyes and breathes out heavily.
“You have advantage, Elizabeth. What do you want?”
Sex oozes out of his ever-stiffening muscles, his breathing elevated and those blue heated eyes begging me to give everything to him.
“You,” I reply without thinking, desperate for his touch.
“Then you shall have me.” He reaches towards his king and topples it over.
“I have been beaten - utterly and without regret,” he whispers softly, gazing towards me with some emotion crossing his face I haven’t seen before. “Up you get.” He stands and holds his hand out for me.
Lacing his fingers with mine, he guides me to the back of the plane towards a small corridor and then opens a door. He pulls me in and then kicks the door closed behind him, leaving me standing in the middle of a bedroom as he backs away and let’s go of my hand.
“Elizabeth, I want you to do something for me. Do you trust me enough to do what I say?”
“Yes,” I reply without hesitation. It’s the most bizarre answer I could have given, bearing in mind that I hardly know the man, but for some reason I do trust him.
“Good, you should. Don’t ever think I’ll give you more than you can take. Do you understand me?” I nod in response as I scan the room a little nervously. “Never nod as an answer. Speak, unless you can’t. We’ll talk about hand gestures later. I have no intention of gagging you yet.” He gazes at me for a minute and then moves to the side of the bed. “Do you understand?” Gagging, really?
“Yes.” I smile and look towards him.
“Okay, go to that corner of the room,” he says, pointing towards an empty corner as he pulls a length of rope from the bedside draw and removes his shirt. I back into the corner while he ambles his way towards me. God, he’s breath-taking. I’m drooling watching his broad shoulders and rippling lean muscles moving around the space. His hands twitch around the rope as he gets closer. I feel my thighs clench and my heart rate quicken as the familiar stirring begins in my groin. Just looking at him is enough to make me come. He’ll only have to touch me once and I’ll probably explode.
“Have you been tied up before?” he asks as he twirls the rope around his fingers expertly, threading it and showing me just how familiar he is with it. I suddenly feel completely out of my comfort zone.
“No, never.” I look gingerly toward the rope in his hands as he holds it out to me.
“Don’t fight it or struggle against it. You’ll cause yourself pain, and while I want you bound, I don’t want you broken. Well, not yet anyway.”
“Okay.”
Looking directly at me, he grabs hold of something above my head and pulls down a long stainless steel pole that ends at his feet. Stamping on the floor by the base of it, a bolt miraculously slots down into place and holds the pole secure.
“I’m going to tie you to this by your hands and then fuck you in any way I please.” My mouth opens to say something. He cuts me off before I get a chance. “At some point, your knees will give way, which will leave you hanging. That’s exactly what I want from you. I want to see you stretched out for me with your head lowered either in exhaustion or respect. I really don’t give a fuck which one.” He stares at me, probably waiting for an answer, or maybe permission. I’m really not sure which.
I close my mouth and think, my fingers travelling along the pole as I reach out for the rope. It’s quite soft for rope. I was expecting something courser. The thought of being restrained hasn’t ever appealed before but with him, I’m so aroused that I’ll probably do anything.
“Okay,” I eventually reply, frowning at myself. I’m not even sure why I’m agreeing to any of this.
“Put your hands above your head,” he says firmly.
I comply and he reaches above me. The smell of him so close to me as he brushes his body against mine is almost my undoing. His familiar spicy scent and the rasp of denim on my skin, as he pulls and tugs gently, is so enthralling that I forget to breathe out after each intake. I move my hands and wrists, testing my restraints. They don’t move in the slightest and I look up to notice the rope around them has been threaded into some sort of thick cuff around my whole wrist. The look of it suddenly makes me feel a little panicky. It comes out of nowhere and I look to his eyes for some sort of reassurance. Those darkened eyes are instantly on mine, focusing my mind again.
“Shh, baby. Look at me. Keep your eyes on me,” he says, stroking the side of my face soothingly. “You’ll enjoy this but you have to let go and feel only me.” I nuzzle in and nod my head at him again, feeling secure somehow.
He starts at my neck, smoothing his hands down both sides and putting some pressure on my collar bone with the pads of his thumbs, then kisses me softly, teasing my mouth open with his tongue and swirling it inside. Licking and biting at my lips, he pulls my body flush to his. I can feel the hard length of him pressing against my stomach but the helpless feeling of being tied is distracting me and I can’t stop myself trying to struggle again.
His head stills as he removes his mouth from my neck.
“Elizabeth, stop struggling. I won’t tell you again. I have other ways to teach you obedience if you’d prefer.” His tone is stern, almost angry. I stop instantly because I have no idea where this version of him is leading. “Better.”
His head resumes its course downwards towards my breasts, fingers moving my bra cups out of the way as he moulds his hand around one, kneading it roughly. And then lips travel, sucking it into his mouth and then biting gently at it. His right hand takes a leisurely path down my body as he transfers his mouth to the other breast and continues with his biting and licking. God, I can feel it building already. Heat is flooding towards my sex and I desperately want his touch down there, but his hand skates loosely over the material of my panties not giving me any pressure. I gasp at the impact of him being so close, arching into him to gain more weight from his hands, and then he claws his hand roughly over my thigh, back towards that aching nub.
“Please...” God, touch me before I explode.
He moves toward my sex again and this time presses harder on the material, cupping me while slow
ly moving his hand backwards and forwards.
“Oh god, yes,” I moan loudly. He lifts his head and stands back slightly, watching me intently, still rubbing in an achingly slow rhythm. I can hear my own panting in my head as if I’m watching from a different angle, which seems to lull me to a strange place of softness. Images of those fluffy clouds fly through my mind as his hand continues and my legs wobble beneath me.
“Tell me, Elizabeth. Ask for want you want.” His dark eyes sear into mine while his cool stance remains intact. If I could speak, I’d probably scream, but all I can do is gasp for air and hope he knows what I want.
“Please...” I can’t find the words at all. I have never been so horny and the pressure my own body is creating is excruciating. He slowly pushes my panties aside and draws one long finger through me, lifting it to his mouth and sucking off my wetness. It’s the most erotic vision I’ve ever seen and I swear, just once more and it’ll be the end.
“So ready for me, so eager,” he muses, returning his hand. He cups me again and presses his thumb directly to my swollen nub. Electricity sparks through me and I jolt forward into him. His lips quirk up as he pushes me away from him again to create distance between us.
“Not yet, baby. Hold it back a bit. Let me watch you squirm for a while,” he rasps out, slowly rubbing his thumb around in circles, applying pressure and then releasing, applying then releasing. I can feel myself gripping the pole, barely able to stand already and yet he still continues the torture.
“I can’t hold off. Oh, god.” I pant out, closing my eyes and tipping my head back, trying to gain some control again. His intense eyes are too much for me. I desperately need to get away from them if I’m to have any hope of holding this back. His hand clamps my jaw and pulls my head level again, still moving his hand.
“Look at me. Keep your eyes open. I want to see your agony,” he growls breathlessly. My eyes open to see the dark desire fuelling his as his hand works me mercilessly.
“Alex, please let me come. I can’t...”
He pushes two fingers inside me and watches as I writhe like a temptress in front of him. It’s too much. I can’t breathe and him rubbing those fingers on my g-spot, now applying a slightly faster rhythm, is near mindblowing.
“Yes, oh god, yes. Please, faster.” I moan in ecstasy. I’m nearly there - just a little bit more. My arms take my weight as my knees start to buckle beneath me. The rope rubs gratingly against my wrists, inducing a slight pain that only seems to intensify my need to come as my whole body stretches out and I grind down onto his fingers.
“You’re ready now, baby. Let go for me,” he says, scooping me towards him roughly and taking my weight in his arms.
Air puffs out of me at the onslaught, and oh Jesus Christ, the stars alight behind my eyelids as the most gut-wrenching orgasm travels the length of my soul and back. Every part of my body tingles and quivers and I swear I pass out for a second. I can feel his hand still rubbing, pushing me further into the pain and pleasure of bliss as he turns me round to face the pole.
“Hold onto that,” he orders, pushing me roughly. “Don’t let go.”
While I ride out the effects of my shattering, he rips my panties from me. I hear a rustling of clothes and suddenly he’s inside me. I lurch forward at the hard thrust as he hits my cervix from behind and slams in with such force, it takes what little breath I had away from me.
“Breathe, Elizabeth. There’s more in you yet.” I close my eyes and let the full feeling envelop me, the stretch so deliciously tight it’s almost painful.
“Fuck, you’re so tight. Say my name, Elizabeth. Scream it for me.”
Grabbing my hips, he slams in again and again, and unbelievably, my body starts to react. I feel my insides tighten around him and the build of pleasure form in my core as he grabs hold of my neck harshly and tilts my head to the side. His arm loops around my waist to support me and he forges harder and harder until I’m nearly there again. “I can feel you. Fuck, you’re so close again.” Oh god he’s right. So close, and his hand closing around my throat, applying that pressure I crave, spurs me on towards another bliss-filled place. “Hold it off. I want you to come with me.”
He removes his hand from my throat and drags his fingers along my back languidly, slowing his rhythm and pulling himself backwards achingly slowly again.
“Alex, harder. Fuck me harder, please,” I beg, pushing myself back towards him in the hope of speeding him back up. He groans with pleasure and tilts my hips slightly, pulling me back onto him with brutal intent. It’s too much and the colours start darting behind my eyelids.
“Yes,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “Christ, Alex, yes.”
He slows his pounding again and splays his hand over my back.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful. Let me watch you longer. Slow yourself for me,” he growls as he moves his hands to my breasts and pinches hard on my nipples, twisting them.
What? He has to be fucking kidding me.
I take in a deep breath and try to contain my orgasm by opening my eyes and focusing on my bound wrists. If I just stare at the rope, just focus on something other than the feel of him inside me, then maybe …
“So tight, so achingly sexy. You are exquisite, Elizabeth, and fuck, I love hearing you beg for me. Do it again. Beg,” he rasps out as he travels his hand back up towards my neck and moves towards my throat again.
“Please, Alex, do it. Fuck me.” My breathing spikes instantly and I moan out as he starts to increase his rhythm, harder and faster, more, punishing stroke after punishing stroke slamming into me over and over again.
“You’re just too fucking much.”
“Yes. God, please make me come.”
He pounds in again and grabs at my throat, lifting my head and pushing me towards the pole. I push back against him and feel him hit my core again. My orgasm starts with such force my knees buckle at the ache building to a peak of almost pain. Both of his arms suddenly wrap around my waist, taking all my weight, which allows me to just sense every mind blowing thing that is happening to me as he pushes me further into it.
“That’s it, right there.”
He groans into my ear as I feel him thickening and changing speed. My body falls apart around me, everything going numb. Intense sensation travels through the core of me. My legs give way completely and I collapse into his arms, lights flashing before my eyes. I have no fucking idea what’s happening as I spiral out of control and vaguely hear him shouting my name in the distance. Warmth floods inside of me as he finds his own release and my brain fogs. Nothing else is here apart from the feeling of him inside me and the dull throb that’s coursing through my bones.
What the hell was that? What did he do to me? Oh god, I can’t even tell my muscles to work. Shit. Something’s wrong. I slump back into him and before I know it, the ropes are removed and I’m lying on the bed with his arms pulling me to him.
Soft lips caress my forehead. They’re warm, honest. That’s the last thing I remember. That, and him saying, “Sleep, baby. You were perfect.”
Chapter 18
Elizabeth
“S ir, we’re half an hour out - on time and ready to descend. Would you like us to circle?”
“Yes, Phillip. Thank you.” I hear Alex murmur, his arms tightening around me from behind as he nuzzles into me. “Are you awake, baby?” he whispers.
“Yes, I think so,” I groan beside him. “What did you do to me? I feel like I could sleep for a week. Did I pass out?”
“It’s the altitude, and no you didn’t pass out. I’ll have to work you harder in future. You were rather more robust than I thought you would be. You were remarkably pleasing.” He chuckles, pulling me towards him again, pushing his morning glory into my back, or afternoon glory. What time is it anyway? I’m struggling to remember the day.
“You are kidding me, right? I still can’t move and you’re up for round two,” I mumble, and what the hell does remarkably pleasing mean?
“O
h, baby, you have no idea how many rounds of you I’m up for. It’s your own fault. You shouldn’t be so damned gorgeous.” He kisses my neck and moves a hand to my thigh.
“Oh, well. When you put it like that. How long do we have?” I push back against him and wriggle a bit, giggling like a bloody schoolgirl.
“As long as we need. I’d circle this jet all day for a few more minutes with you. I’ve never enjoyed just lying with someone so much,” he says, a small sigh coming from him as he nibbles my shoulder.
“You certainly know all the right things to say to a girl, Mr. White. Ooh, turn onto your front a minute,” I say suddenly, jumping up onto my knees with renewed vigour.
“What? Why?” he replies, quizzically.
“Because I want to see your tattoo.” I smile brightly. “I keep getting glances but I’ve never really looked at it for long enough. I am not often behind you now, am I?” I say, raising my eyebrow.
He rolls over and I straddle his back. Looking down, I see one word stretched across his shoulders in black and grey.
“Belligerare,” I mutter softly as I run my fingers over it and frown, not understanding the meaning. Scanning further down, I realise that the rest of it is simply lots of numbers and dots that start in the middle of his left shoulder blade and run across to his right. The numbers are a kind of Sanskrit style and all in black, about an inch high for each number. At present it reaches about halfway down his back and the last number ends just at his spine.
“It’s beautiful. What does it all mean?” I ask, wandering my hands over the numbers.
“I wondered when you’d ask. All the dates are something of significance to me. Turning points in my life, you could say - good and bad.” He turns over and gazes up at me softly. “I like you up there.” He continues smiling and reaching up to grasp my hands.
“What does the word mean?” I ask.
“To wage war,” he murmurs, dragging a finger down my body from my neck. “Latin.”
“How apt, Mr. White.” I giggle as I look down at him with something close to adoration. Such a beautiful man - the sort of man who would have his life tattooed on his body to reinforce his memories. “Why would you tattoo the bad dates?” I ask quietly. “Why would you want to remind yourself?”
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