Roulette

by Sophie Haas

  The hard pounds of my heart felt like they should’ve been heard by not just me but Wells. My thoughts swirled left, right and centre, as I tried to process everything. Could I blame the text from Four? After all if there had been nothing from him, I wouldn’t have been all revved up and then I wouldn’t have sat on Wells’s lap. His hand wouldn’t have gone down my pants and I wouldn’t have tried to drown the sensation with vodka. Ergo I wouldn’t have gone back to his place to spy on him and Anya. I wouldn’t have been locked out and I wouldn’t be here now.

  I’d have been home. Alone. Safe with no new memories to haunt me.

  I couldn’t do this. I didn’t care if he was right. I couldn’t be here with him because there was no one left to put me back together. Jack was gone and I had zero Wellsley coping skills.

  Because he was wrong. I wasn’t afraid of submitting.

  Okay, a smidge considering it was him.

  Fine. More than a smidge.

  The Big Dog was a terrifying man. Him and his stupid three piece suits. No one had the right to look that sexy in a tie and vest. It was ridiculous. And he wore them all the time. What was wrong with a good pair of jeans and an old tee? But no. Instead he had to look like he had control of every second of the day.

  That shouldn’t be sexy. It should be obsessive.

  Had I watched him slip into one of those sexy vests this morning, I was pretty sure my vagina would’ve exploded. The way those hugged his body should be criminal. Dangerous man with those suits and that glint in his eye that said he knew he was the alpha in the room. He didn’t have any swagger – he didn’t need it. The very air around him whispered of control and authority.

  Drugging.

  Especially when he turned that energy towards someone like me. It made you feel like everything would be okay if you just trusted.

  “The foundation,” he said, his voice low and rather soothing, “for any of us in the lifestyle is trust. Did you know that?”

  A shiver moved through me when his words echoed my thoughts.

  “The submissive trusts that, be she in ropes, under needles or quietly kneeling, her Dom will protect her as she relinquishes everything to him. She trusts that the ropes will hold.” As he spoke the back of his hand pressed against the inside of my wrist lifting it away from the dashboard. “She trusts that the pain won’t scar. She trusts that he respects the consent she gives. Do you trust that the belt will hold you, girl?”

  The question made my brain start. Even though I felt the snug pull of the seat belt there was brief panic. What if it suddenly gave and I went face first into the dashboard? But it was tight against me and I needed to trust that Wells didn’t want me to have a bleeding nose. I could feel that tension in the seat belt and in the air. Instead of answering him, I slowly lifted my right hand.

  Even though the seat was beneath me, the angle of my upper body gave a floating sensation. The feeling was emphasized when he tucked both my hands on my side of the safety harness. Fuuuuuck. My fingers flexed, fisted, and flexed again before relaxing.

  “The Dom,” he continued in that slow, sexy tone, “trusts that his submissive will tell him if the ropes are too tight or too lose. He trusts that she’ll give a solid, hardcore no if the needles are not what she wants or needs. He trusts that everything she consents to is what she wants and not what he wants. He trusts that her trust is felt all the way to the core of who she is.” His finger on my cheek as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear caused goose bumps to break out on my body all while the quiet unraveled deep within, stretching awake after being denied for a long time. Everything grew still at that one touch. The thoughts of his suit, the memory of last night, the utter chaos that had become a constant since Jack’s death went still as if unsure of what to do beneath that simple touch.

  “It’s not about fucking. It’s not about controlling when you come. It’s about trust. Trusting in the power dynamic. Trusting me. Trusting you. And you have so very little trust.”

  A tear slipped free and the tip of his finger traced its path.

  The latch on the seatbelt went and my eyes snapped open as I grabbed onto the seatbelt when it gave and my body jolted forward. His arm was braced before me, his hand on the door.

  I stared at the stark white sleeve of his shirt, tracking it over his forearm, his biceps. His face was so close to mine I could almost count each thick lash around his light brown eyes. Knowledge was there. He had known what I’d do, that I hadn’t trusted him to keep me from smashing face first into the dashboard.

  My stomach hurt. “Sorry,” I whispered, letting go of the seatbelt before scrambling for the handle. I all but spilled from his car, patting my pockets as I walked as fast as I could for the safe haven of my home. Fleeing from Wells was instinctual, something I had perfected over the years.

  Finally I found the single key. Too bad my hand was shaking too much to aim properly.

  Long fingers wrapped around my hand and guided the key. He was the one who turned the knob, his other hand on the small of my back guiding me inside. “Sorry,” I mumbled again. Before I could shut him out, barricading myself inside, he was in my home shutting the door. “I’m fine. You can go.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Truer words, I thought as he set his hands on my shoulders and walked me through the bungalow. With stunning accuracy, he steered me through my home to the master bathroom. He set my hands on the vanity then dipped his fingers into each pocket, removing items that he set on the grey marble.

  Blinking, I watched him crouch to one knee, lift my foot and set it on his bent leg. He unzipped the boot then with a tug, freed my foot. He repeated it with my other boot, setting them neatly beside each other. When he reached for the button of my jeans, I made a weak attempt to swat his hand away.

  A firm grip on my wrist and a hard look as he returned my hand to the vanity was enough to make my entire body still. He slid my jeans down and I still felt the imprint of his touch on my skin. I wanted to rub but wasn’t entirely sure what he’d do if I moved.

  “Do I want to know where your panties are?”

  Shaking my head, I lifted one foot then the other as he stripped away my pants and socks. In a graceful move, he stood before me. He snagged the bottom of my shirt and drew it up. I struggled to remember the last time I was completely naked for someone and came up blank. The words of the bar bitches came to me and I sucked in my stomach in a self-conscious move.

  He flicked his fingers against my belly button hard enough to sting. “Ow.” Glaring at him, I rubbed the spot.

  “Trust, Amy Marie. Put your hand back where it belongs.”

  Unable to look away his patrician face, I lowered my hand. He cupped the back of my neck, not breaking eye contact as his other hand caressed down and easily popped my bra open. It wasn’t until his finger hooked between the ivory cup and my breast that I fully comprehended I was being undressed by Wellsley Darling.

  My breasts tingled and my nipples tightened as they were bared to the quiet room. I squeezed my thighs together, as if that could halt the slickness on my thighs. The bra was drawn down my arms and set on top of my shirt.

  One large hand cupped my breast and both my thighs and stomach quivered at the contact. My eyes closed when his thumb and forefinger rolled my nipple into a swollen, aching point. “I very much want to see these beautiful tits decorated. Captured between my rope and dangling weights pulling on your nipples.” His shoe tapped against the inside of my feet, inching my legs open. “I’d turn you into a pretty decoration kneeling on that large coffee table you have out there. There’s nothing like a pretty little submissive all cinched up in rope.” Air against my damp pussy made me gasp. He pinched my nipple, harder and harder until a sharp cry escaped, my entire body throbbing at the sensation. My head fell back at the rush of wet warmth between my legs. In an instant the quiet snap around me, like an erotic bear trap.

  “Nice,” he murmured as he turned me around. “I’m no sadist but a little pain is
a beautiful thing. Open those big brown eyes. I think you need to see.”

  He stood behind me, a powerful being so beautiful he made things ache. Then there was me. My cheeks were flushed, my eyes dazed and glazed.

  “How can something so pure terrify you so much?”

  “It doesn’t,” I confessed, watching his fingers as he unbuttoned the cuffs on his sleeve then the front of his shirt. A shrug of his shoulders and his upper body was bared though I was blocking the view. Pity. It was an amazing view.

  A dark gold eyebrow arched up, clearly doubting me before he turned and walked to into my closet. He found an empty hanger and draped his shirt over the plastic arms then toed off his shoes. In the mirror I watched him slide the belt free then coil it around the hook. My eyes went wide as I watched him step out off his slacks and underwear.

  Naked. Naked Wellsley.

  Naked Wellsley in my bathroom.

  He hung the pants on the bar then actually folded his socks into his shoes. It didn’t escape my notice that his clothes had been treated carefully while mine had been casually tossed on the vanity.

  I had splurged on the house when I bought it, turning one of the bedrooms into a master bathroom. I was never more thankful than when I watched the reflection of a partially erect dominant male walk towards me. Every bob and sway of his cock made me remember the feel of him moving inside me: the sharp bite of pain as he had obliterated my virginity, the way he had filled me until I had sworn I was stretched to accommodate him, every thrust and glide as ropes held me immobile, the hot, silky spurts of when he had come inside me.

  It had been terrifying then. All those raw emotions too much to understand, the dominant ways of him foreign to me but so erotic they would haunt my body for months. I hadn’t understood domination and submission. I hadn’t understood the dark hunger within him, or the answering need within to sate that feeling for him.

  Submitting had been too much for me. My age, my innocence, hadn’t known about what was inside Wellsley Darling. It sure as hell hadn’t been in any of the books I read. Filled with his cum and domination, I had broken.

  Had his eyes looked at me that way? A little bit like a predatory lion, his long, lean body graceful and certain with every step he made. He looked at me like I was his sexual prey

  A finger drew a line along my spine from the middle of my back to my neck. My nipples pulled tight as he rested his palm along my nape, his fingers curling into a firm grip.

  When the pad of his thumb pressed into a spot, a soft gasp escaped, tiny darts of pleasurable pain licking under my skin. There was something about having my neck touched like this that made things melt. A strong clasp of utter control in a vulnerable spot just did it for me.

  My breathing quickened and I ached to press my thighs together. There was nothing to hold back what that touch did to me.

  And he knew it too. The pressure continued, the hold sinking me deeper into my body, into the moment, into the quiet.

  “How can you fear something so natural for you? So beautiful on you? Look at you so sensual and erotic, Amy.”

  I sucked in my breath at his words. My hands tightening on the edge of the vanity, we both listened to me breathe. His fingers slowly tightened on the back of my neck.

  “What can you possibly fear? Answer me.”

  My head fell back to rest against his shoulder, the demand coiling around me, squeezing like his hand. I couldn’t lie. I wouldn’t. “You,” I whispered to the dark presence behind me.

  “You have no idea how much that pleases me,” he murmured, his lips against my ear.

  I felt his hand on my stomach and a whispered “Oh God,” escaped. My heart began to pound like it had that day in his lake house years ago: fear, uncertainty, lust, joy, and buried beneath all those rioting feelings, the inexplicable need to submit. To him.

  My breath rushed out at the truth I had buried deep down after the lake house because this was bigger than a crush, bigger than me, even bigger than him. His fingers boldly slid down and I gasped, my body straining as he pushed one thick finger into me.

  “So wet and welcoming yet still so tight. Yield to me, Amy. Let go and give over. Stop fighting what is so beautiful about you. Surrender isn’t the darkness. It’s the light.”

  A small cry escaped and his fingers curled around the front of my neck, holding me against him. His cock was thick and heavy where he pressed into my ass. I wanted to push back into him, rub up against him, and feel him inside me. Again.

  “Why fight what gives you such peace? You submit so gloriously, without fear of the other side. No boundaries, no hesitation. Remember her. Embrace her. You say you don’t fear this but you fight it. Let go. Eyes open, girl.” Tilting my head forward, I tried to catch my breath. I cracked my eyes open to see his hand between my legs. While his finger was deep inside me, his other hand collared my throat.

  On my next exhale, he began to glide his finger within me, his hand sliding down my body to my stomach. He held me against him all while he unraveled me with slow slow slow strokes.

  I broke his rules. I let go of the counter, reaching for his hand. Not the one holding me up, but the one holding me open. A long, drawn out gasp escaped when he withdrew his finger, snagged mine and penetrated me with it. He held me still so I could feel the slickness of my cunt, the way I tightened around the sensual invasion. My hips twitched but his hand gripped tight, stilling the movement so I could only feel the growing wetness, the way I squeezed more. My body clenched; stirring memories awake as I remembered how it felt to be fucked by Wells.

  Consumed by him.

  “You will not come.”

  A sharp, hot gasp escaped and I clamped my lips between my teeth, biting back what those four words did to me, did to the damp, needy clench of my cunt while everything began to unravel.

  I grew wetter and wetter, our fingers moving inside me. Every time my eyes started to close he pinched my waist. I was unable to look away from his finger vanishing inside me. He held me against his body, not allowing me to escape from the eroticism of this moment.

  “I want you to watch that pretty little sub in the mirror,” Wells demanded in his sinful voice, his finger thrusting and retreating in a relentless tempo. “That’s not the face of someone who is afraid of me.”

  No. It was very much the face of someone who really wanted him to bend her over the counter and thrust into her. My cheeks were flushed and my mouth parted on a loud gasp every time he buried his finger inside me. Wells seemed larger than life behind me. The naked wall of his chest propped me up, his burnt honey eyes watching every response he drew from me.

  He slid a second finger into me and in the mirror my eyes went wide and unfocused as I cried out. I never spent a lot of time gazing at my naked body. Why would I? I knew what I looked like.

  Now, I couldn’t look away. My breasts jiggled with each rock of my hips as he filled me. The muscles in my thighs quivered and twitched while my pussy stretched around our fingers, the entrance glistening because I was wet. So wet.

  Then his fingers hit that one spot that made me gasp while my cunt clamped tight.

  “You will watch,” he ordered, rubbing and pressing within me. An ache spread beneath his relentless touch. My eyes were open but I saw nothing. I grew wetter and tighter. “No,” he whispered in my ear, the firm control weaving through the erotic sensation. In the crack of my ass, his thick cock was snug, the skin growing slick from the pre-cum. I rocked along him, needing him inside me with an almost savage obsession. I wanted to come but more than that I wanted to obey.

  I was fine, somewhat, until he pushed a third finger into me. Too much. Too much! Three fingers glided over the g-spot and the pleasure was almost painful. My cunt seemed to both tighten and relax as I came on a soundless cry.

  “I said no.” And the asshole kept up the tortures strokes, his fingers buried deep in me while cum dripped from his knuckles.

  He made me come again, despite my trying to obey. Every muscle was tau
t but this wasn’t about me obeying.

  I rose on my toes in a desperate attempt to escape. Too much. Too much! I clamped my hand on his wrist in an attempt to stop him but all it did was make me feel the muscles flexing beneath the skin coated in my orgasms. My ragged breaths filled the bathroom and I could hear him moving inside of me. The wet suction on his fingers and the rub of skin against skin. I felt the hard clench of my vagina, the tightness squeezing from the inside out. He wrenched another punishing orgasm from me. I could barely move, my body shaking from the intensity.

  He held me against him and pulled another soul wrenching climax from me. I could barely move. I shook while the hot silky release pushed along his fingers. I gasped. The intense orgasm flooded from me as I bore down on the fingers invading every throbbing inch of me. Every shudder of my body hurt. I came only to have the pain float away in euphoric bliss. Quiet sobs made me shake and I felt both hot and cold.

  The drag of his fingers through my tight, swollen cunt made me whimper. He lifted me with ease and carried me into the shower. The warm water stung my skin. I shook so hard I was surprised I didn’t shatter apart. Wellsley held me through it all: a port in the storm he had unleashed.

  Chapter 7

  I don’t know how long we stood there, how long I shook beneath the water. Strong fingers slid along my wet hair then wrapped the slick strands around his hand. Wells gradually tilted my head back so I was looking up at him. God, he was beautiful. Never in the classical sense, his face had too much cruelty in it but even cruelty could be beautiful. His eyes had a permanent glint that said he was going to do what the fuck he wanted and you either got out of his way or he’d flatten you. His facial features were harsh even with water glistening on his skin. Against the smooth, warm skin of his chest my nipples tightened in response to being near to him. Domination dripped from his pores. You never doubted you were in the presence of an alpha male.