by Anita Gray
He's beside me now, but he doesn't touch me yet. A flicking sound, like a lighter going off, draws my attention. The room glows with a dancing orange flame—he's lighting a candle.
“What's that for?” I ask, swallowing after. “You're-you're not going to burn me, are you?”
“What?” he says, sounding shocked. “Course I'm not gonna burn you.” He wants to know why I said that—I can sense it—but he doesn't question me.
On the bedside cabinet next to me, there's a candle burner. The rim is filled with liquid. I can't see what color. Charlie puts the candle inside the burner, under the liquid, and a strong scent fills the room. It's potent and makes my head rush a little faster.
“What's that for?”
“These oils will help you relax,” Charlie says. Leaning over me, he hooks his fingers into the waist of my trousers. My stomach tightens from the skin to skin contact. I instinctively go for his wrists to stop him from touching me. He pauses, and I retreat, Maksim's order swimming in my mind—do not fight him.
“Are you gonna fight me?” he asks. He's so close that I can feel his warm breath on my forehead.
I don't look at him. I just shake my head.
“That's a shame.” Charlie tugs my trousers down my legs, yanking off my trainers one by one on his way to undress me.
I sit bare in my bra and pants now, my anxiety reaching its summit.
The only time I was ever this apprehensive was when Maksim first belted me himself—the first time I told him 'no' to sucking his cock.
What I would give to go back to him right now.
I miss what I know.
Huge hands close around my ankles and my toes curl. Charlie pulls me down so I'm lying on my back, my hair pooling around my face. I squeeze my thighs together and close my eyes. The blackness makes this seem almost like a bad dream.
Soft strands of hair tickle up my stomach, followed by a wet trail and the bed dipping around me. Charlie is licking his way up my body I realize, over my navel, through my breasts and to my throat. Tension gathers low in my stomach, and my insides tingle.
His tongue on my body feels so good. I can't deny it.
The saliva trail turns from warm to cold within seconds, and I shiver.
“You liked it when I kissed you, didn't you...” he says. It doesn't sound like he's asking. It sounds like he's telling me what I already know.
I don't bother trying to rebuff him. He knows I liked it. I hardly fought him off.
To avoid kissing him again—this is my power over him—I turn my head to the side but it only gives him the access he wants. He presses kisses up the side of my neck, inhaling on his way, his smooth face gliding across my skin like satin. He sucks on my earlobe, nips with his teeth, sending some strange vibes through my body. I'm ashamed to admit I nearly moan.
“You smell creamy,” he says with puffs of breath in my ear, “like cocoa butter.”
Knees try to probe my legs open but I squeeze my thighs together, hugging my breasts.
“Blaire...” he warns, his voice deepening, “if you're gonna fight me, do it with some dignity.”
My blood simmers, but I reluctantly relax because I know he wants me to fight him. I remember how much pleasure he took in our first battle—the first time he won at kissing me. I won't let him have the pleasure of fighting me again.
A rough skinned hand forces me open and his heavy weight settles between my thighs, his jeans chafing my sensitive skin. I'm glad he's fully clothed. I don't think I could handle him being naked at the moment.
Fingers touch my face, my jaw, and then my cheek. He kisses me there with gentle lips.
Fuck, I can smell him, the clean, soapy/musky fragrance of his skin, and he's so warm it almost feels like a hot summer's day in here. It's all so intense, and confusing—a horrifying mixture of things. I enjoyed the way he kissed me before and the way he just sucked my ear, but I am horrified.
I don't want this.
I want to go home.
“I'm glad to learn it's true what they say about redheads. They're fiery.” Charlie kisses down my neck and across my collarbones, one by one, his lips tender and nearly inviting—it has to be those oils he's burning. “But you're not fiery anymore, are you? Not with your orders firmly dished out.” He sucks the pulsing vein in my neck with his lips and something surges through me. I jerk under him, unable to stop.
“What I'd give to have Maksim's control over you...”
“You're fucked up, you know that?” I spit at him, my cool slipping away—I wish he'd stop fucking talking!
I boldly meet his gaze. We're nose to nose.
“We're all a little fucked up,” he says in my face, his blue eyes glowing with zeal, “it's just, some of us aren't scared to admit it.”
“I don't mean like that,” I say through closed teeth. “Look at you, Charlie, how handsome you are.” Putting my hands on his large shoulders to keep him an inch away, I soak up his handsomeness, the stark silver blueness in his eyes—I don't think I've ever seen eyes so untamed and beautiful—the perfection of his lips; the sharpness of his features.
“You don't need to do this.” I try to push him back another inch but he isn't budging. His hard body just makes me feel weaker and more helpless. “Tell me why you're doing this to me.”
He tips his head to the side, lifts a hand and strokes down my face. “Why should I tell you?”
I've got a million thoughts running through my mind. Is it just that he wants to fuck me? Or is he getting his revenge on Maksim through me?
I cannot ask that. I'm afraid he'll say yes.
“Ever since I saw you walk into Maksim's office, dripping in wild beauty,” he starts talking before I even answer him, “and ever since you defiantly mouthed me back at Rumo's place, I've wanted you.” Running his thumb and finger down my jaw line, he pinches my chin. “And I always get what I want, Blaire. One way or the other.” He isn't joking. I can see it in his eyes.
Hot lips travel back down my body, down my neck and to the arc of my breasts, making me quiver.
So, because I have a backbone and I'll tell him exactly what I think without fear, he wants me?
What a twisted motherfucker.
He sucks over the curve of my left breast, sucking my flesh into his mouth, and I don't know what happens inside me... I'm throbbing all over with heat, somewhat aroused but still anxious about what he's doing. I'm fighting not to arch into him too, using my grip on his shoulders to keep flat against the bed.
He senses how he's making me feel inside, it seems, because his teeth close around my pebbled nipple over the thin cotton material of my bra. He gently kneads, rolling his jaw from left to right, rolling my nipple in his teeth. The pain is strangely perverse and arousing; hurts at times but I... I like it.
I arch into him now—I can't stop myself. I'm losing my fucking mind!
“That's it, sweet Blaire.” His tongue swirls around my nipple, soaking through the material, making my insides roll with sensations.
He goes further down my body, leaving a path of fire in his wake. He kisses and caresses me at once, kneading my body with large hands; my breasts first, tweaking my nipples with his fingers until they're standing on ends, then he massages my sides, my hips, squeezing me, having me squirm against the sureness of his large hands.
My chest is on fire. It's taking every ounce of my spirit not to groan out, not to express how good that feels.
He's kissing just above my pant line now, from left to right, over each of my sharp hipbones. My stomach quivers, and again when his hands follow his kisses down my thighs.
Letting go of his shoulders, I claw the sheets on either side of my waist, thawing under him. I know exactly where he's going. Maksim has told me that men like doing this to women. They like making women come apart with using only their mouth. It's a game of power.
When Charlie is crouched between my legs, he spreads me wide open, gripping the insides of my thighs. He leans down and licks over my black
cotton pants, briefly touching my throbbing clit. I writhe against the warmth of his tongue, tightening my ass, trying to cope with the sensations. He then blows on me down there, turning everything cold. A surge of pleasure zaps right through me. I jump in my skin, letting out a small girlish moan, my senses flooding with endorphins.
“I like it when you moan like that,” Charlie rasps out. “It'll forever remind me of when I first kissed you.”
He does it all over again, licks and blows against my pants, teasing me with... pleasure?
I slam my teeth together, my head getting faint all over again as I struggle with the bitter sweet agonizing pleasure.
I can feel he's looking up at me from down there and it’s making the whole ordeal that much more intense. I have no privacy right now.
He hooks a finger into the side of my pants and the pressure in the low of my body expands; turns to streams of desire. He strokes an invisible boundary of mine, up and then back down, just touching my sex.
“You've gotta be kidding me,” he says angrily, and I wonder what the hell he's talking about. “Shaven? Fucking hell!”
The back of his dusty hand tickles my thigh as he strokes up and down my groin some more, savoring the moment. I wriggle about but I can’t escape what he's making me feel.
He peels my pants to the side, then silky warmth presses to the most private part of me, my blood swollen bud, and my world blows up. I cannot hold back moaning this time, nor can I stop my toes from curling.
“Smooth, soft, and untouched.” He blows on my flesh this time, sending tendrils of rapture through me, then he rips off my pants with a loud elastic snap, causing the cotton material to burn against my hips.
Nothing is said, and he buries his face between my legs.
“Ohhh!” I squeal, twisting and turning. His mouth is warm and wet and soft and... “Oh, god!”
He laughs out puffs of breath, grabbing my hips and pinning me to the bed, his hair brushing my inner thighs. He sucks my folds with his lips, gently and slowly drinking me in, then kisses me like he did my mouth. Full on, lips completely sealed over my sex.
Now he’s massaging my clit with his tongue, coaxing something dark within me, making me buck forward more times than once.
I'm almost out of breath. I'm almost out of my mind with sensations.
It goes on and on... Charlie breaking me down... kissing me... sucking me... moaning like he's enjoying this more than I am.
I'm tensing so hard that I start to shake.
This is too much. Too... all over I'm hot and cold at once, my skin swamped with sweat.
“You're pretty down here, too,” he says in a muffed voice, pressing a kiss to my inflamed bud.
My thoughts scatter, drifting away like balls of white light. In the back of my mind there's Maksim and what he's letting happen to me, the evilness in which he can clear a debt, then there's this: the epitome of what I think is pleasure, mindless pleasure that makes everything in the world seem like a nightmare. In all my life, I've never felt such provoking sensations.
Another kiss is pressed to my sex, making me quiver, and I don't know why, but I reach out to Charlie—I just can't deal with this. He takes my hand in one of his and holds it against my hip.
His face is soaked in my arousal, smooth and wet and adding to everything I'm enduring.
“Charlie...” I groan, trying to stop my hips from moving. I'm grinding against his tongue as it swirls around my clit, infusing the delight.
“I know, baby,” he whispers, pecking my bud again. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No...” I sob in a state of dismay. I want this. It's like the first kiss all over again but on another level.
I feel him smile against my sex, then he does something that turns me inside out. He closes his lips over my clit and sucks, hard, in time with flicking his tongue against it with endless endeavor.
“Oh fucking God!” I scream out as my left legs starts trembling. I grip his hand with my nails, sure I'm drawing blood. He doesn't care. He strokes my hand with his thumb, as if to comfort me.
My veins vibrate with tension and between my legs... I'm pulsing so hard that I'm sure Charlie can feel it against his tongue, sensations rushing through me.
It's never ending, and I cannot move to deal with this—he won't let me!
I squeeze his head between my legs—it's all I can do but pass out from spiraling—but he doesn't want me to do that. Letting go of my hand, he wraps his arms around and over my hips to grip my inner thighs, and lifts my ass off the bed, practically folding me in half.
“I'm not done with you yet,” he says. “Not by a long shot.” His tongue parts my nether folds as he finds my clit and he makes my body blow a fuse again, manipulating me... kissing me... Or, maybe the rush never stopped. I think he's drawing it out somehow... making it go on and on and on...
He gazes down on me through heavy eyes, and I can't take anymore.
Grabbing my face in both hands, my sensory system goes into a state of epidemic as a stronger force hits me and I scream.
10
As Charlie said, he's not done with me. Not by a long shot.
He carefully puts me back down on the bed and whispers somewhere from above, “You all right?”
I'm floating in a cradle of ecstasy, my chest heavy with pants, a weird buzzing feeling radiating all over my skin.
A hand touches my face; strokes under my eye. “Blaire? You with me?”
I think I nod. I'm not sure. I'm too mindless to concentrate right now.
That was... extraordinary. I never knew such sensations existed. All I've ever felt is the lick of a belt, heat of a branding iron, or a blow from Maksim's fist. I wasn't aware there was more.
Sitting back on his knees, Charlie pulls off his t-shirt, revealing a hard chiseled stomach and broad shoulders, his chest sprinkled in rough, dark hair. The candle glowing on the bedside cabinet next to us gives an orange shine to his tanned skin.
Like that, he's more savagely handsome than ever before.
Why is he so good looking? It would be so much easier for me to resist the desire if he was ugly.
Panting still, I lie there gazing up at him, sheathed in diamonds of sweat. I cannot even hug myself because my muscles are like jelly, and I do want to hug myself.
The sound of a zipper coming down, slow and raw, and heavy movement on the bed. Then, Charlie is hovering over me, pressing into the mattress on all fours. I can feel something warm and hard just touching my pulsing sex but I don't really register what it is. I’m so hazy—I cannot even really make out his face. I've got stars in my eyes.
With a single hand, Charlie picks wet lengths of hair out of my face. “So fucking pretty,” he whispers, and I can feel his eyes boring into my face.
I don't care.
After a while, my serious pants die down and the barrier that is my dizziness fades away. Charlie smiles when I really look at him, his black unruly hair dripping around his neck and face—it's a dark, exultant smile. His lips are wet, glossy against the orange candle light. My cheeks flush red. Wet from my arousal.
I try to cup my face, desperate to hide from him, but he takes my wrists and pins them to the mattress on either side of my face, supporting himself on his knees between my legs.
“Don't be embarrassed,” he says huskily, reading my mind. “You're perfect.” He licks his glistening lips and closes down on me, kissing my mouth. He tastes salty and smells like... a little musky. A feminine musky scent with a hint of his own.
I turn my face to the side—not because I don't want to kiss him; I just need a moment to recover—but he doesn't seem to like that. Freeing one of my hands, he grapples my jaw line and puts us nose to nose, his fingers digging into my skin.
“Don't look away from me,” he says, and physically orders me to kiss him.
I do, even when he lets go of my face to hold my neck. Losing my mind all over again, I bask in that kiss, in how slow his tongue caresses mine; in how soft and al
luring his lips are. I even wrap my free arm around his neck to keep him close, savoring the feeling of his smooth, shaven face on mine, his heart pounding against my chest.
Looks like we're both running on adrenaline.
My lips swell under the pressure of his, but I can't seem to stop having a taste of him. I kiss him with all I have, sucking his tongue and gasping with anxiety every time he attempts to pull away from me.
“Why are you pulling away?” I say through clatters of breath, blinking up at him. “You wanted this.”
“Oh, I still want this.” Releasing my neck from his hold, he braces his body up on one elbow beside my face; stares into my eyes. “I just need to loosen you up first.”
My heart jumps into my throat. I know what he's going to do.
“Is it going to hurt?” My voice comes out so pathetic that I want to punch myself in the face.
He silently watches me for a second, his dazzling blue eyes flickering back and forth between mine. The orange glow of the candle makes him look so gorgeous that my heart goes a little faster.
“Might a bit at first,” he tells me honestly, “but I'll go slow, and I won't go all the way in if it's too much.”
Won't go all the way in!
I think he knows I'm anxious because he focuses on kissing my mouth for a while, a gentle pursuit, his hand stroking the side of my face. I'm practically purring against his touch, his kiss, rushing with heat. I shut my eyes so I can anchor my thoughts on four senses instead of five—looking at him is too overwhelming right now.
His back muscles feel extraordinary under my arm enveloped around his neck, flexing and contracting as he moves, and the weight of his body holding me down isn't so frustrating anymore. I sort of like the feeling of being under a powerful man. For the first time in my life, I feel like a girl lusted after, rather than a 'pet' ordered to please.
I'm not sure how much time passes before Charlie lets go of my other wrist. Now I'm swathed around him with both arms, putting us chest to chest, crushing my breasts between us.
I think those oils have fucked with my arousal or something because I've never felt this ravenous for anything in my entire life.