by Sienna Blake
“There is nothing you can say that will make me want you less.” I can see in his eyes that he’s still unsure. “Caden, it’s your turn to trust me.”
A softness comes over his face. He nods. “We’ll take it slow, okay? Bit by bit to get you used to it,” he says as his hands explore my thighs over the silk of my dress.
I pull back far enough to frown at him. “Used to what?”
“My needs are… unorthodox. But I would never hurt you,” he adds quickly. “You know that, don’t you?”
I nod.
“Do you trust me? Will you try… for me?”
A small trickle of uncertainty runs down my spine. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
I nod and push a smile to my face. “Okay.”
He nods, but he still looks grim. He pulls away and unwraps my arms from around his neck. “Will you do something for me? Will you hold out your index fingers for me like this?” He holds his fingers chest-level, pointing to each other. I mimic him.
He pulls out a small weaved tube from his pocket. “Do you know what this is?”
I shake my head, still holding my fingers out.
“It’s a Chinese finger trap. Here, let me show you.”
He places one of my index fingers deep into an open end, then pushes my other finger into the other end so that my fingers are almost touching inside the tube. “Now try to pull your fingers apart.”
I do, but the weaving of the trap tightens around my fingers, holding them together. A shiver runs through me and my eyes widen.
“All you have to do to release it is to push your fingers together.”
I do, and the trap loosens its grip on me. Before I can take the trap off, he pulls my arms up and over his head. I have to reach up to get them around his neck so my fingers pull the trap tight again. He leans into me filling up my senses with his presence.
“Tell me, is that so bad to have your fingers trapped like that?” he asks, concern marring his face as he studies me.
I shake my head. “Not when they are trapped around you.”
This time his kisses almost hurt. His lips pressing against mine are insistent. Demanding. Taking. His tongue forces its way between my lips, searching for mine, and they fight one another in a provocative war. I ache to touch him. As I tug, the grip around my fingers tightens so my hands are trapped out of reach.
His hands are free to roam my body. They close over my breasts through the satin, alternating between tender caresses which make my skin awaken to an aching sensitivity, and hard pinches of my nipples which send throbs to my core. Each one heightening the sensation of the other. I buck against him.
His hands run down my side and round my ass. He lifts one of my legs and hooks it around his waist so that my most tender spot presses up against his hardness making me gasp. My skirt is forced to skim up my thighs revealing where my stockings hook into my garters. With one arm he holds me against him. His other hand runs up and down my lifted leg, pulling and flicking the garter straps against my thigh, causing small exquisite snaps of pain. I moan. I’m sure he can feel I’m soaking through my lace panties.
Holding my hip still, he rocks his hips gently and slowly against me, telling me that he’s controlling the pace. My lace rubs along the length of his hardness and my insides spasm with pleasure. I moan into his mouth. God, please, more.
And we rock. He moves faster. I swear my underwear is just going to burn away from all this heat and friction. My head and my body are almost hurting from all this pressure inside. God, I just need him.
He stops, letting out a grunt. He lowers my leg and pulls my hands from around his neck. “Stay here.”
What. The. Hell?
“You’re leaving me?” I can feel myself shaking with an immediate cold rage.
“I’m coming back. Promise. Then we’re getting naked. Very. Very. Naked.”
Fuck. I shiver. “Okay. Hurry up.”
As he walks across the room I notice a metal contraption attached to the far wall that I haven’t noticed before. It looks like a fire hose wrapped around a wheel, except this isn’t a fire hose. It has a thick chain and some sort of pulley up in the roof that the chain extends up to. He starts to wind something and I hear the rattling of metal and clinking from above. I look up. It’s the other end of the chain hanging from the ceiling. On the end is a pair of leather straps with rigid grips. Oh. My God.
I yank against my wrists which are held together in chains, bleeding from the rough cold iron. The blackout curtains shut out the world, the only light coming from the dimmed wall lamps of Jacob’s bedroom.
In this dark abandoned building, I stare, frozen to the spot while Caden lowers the chain towards me. The clinking stops and the loose chain end thrashes a little before falling into a soft sway. I look over to see him walking back towards me.
“Rule number two: I can touch you but you can’t touch me.”
“You want to restrain me,” I choke out as he stops before me.
“Jacob, please,” I croak. My mouth is dry. I need water. My stomach is tight from not having eaten. “I can’t take anymore.”
“No.” I can hear the scowl in his voice. I try not to whimper as he wraps his fingers through my hair and pushes his cock past my lips. “I will tell you when you’ve had enough.”
I shrink back from Caden, feeling a tremble taking me over. I can’t. No. I can’t. I start to back away. “No. You can’t force me−”
“I’m not forcing you. I would never force you. This will always be your choice. But this rule is very important to me. We can take it slowly. I won’t close the straps around your wrist. You can just be restrained by the finger trap. You can push your fingers together and release yourself at any time. If you do so, I’ll stop.”
He can touch me but I can’t touch him. I look between the chain and him, my head whipping back and forth in a shake. “No restraints.”
“I can’t make love to you unless your hands are bound.”
“Why?”
A flare of darkness behind his eyes makes them look black. A cold chill blows across the heated desire still running through my body.
“I would never hurt you, you know that. I have my reasons for needing this, but I can’t explain them to you. You just have to trust me. You do trust me, don’t you?”
Manipulative bastard. I already said I trusted him before we entered the abandoned building and now I feel like I can’t go back on my word. Slowly, slowly, he is pushing out the edge of my trust. Slowly, slowly, he is walking me towards something in the dark that I cannot see.
I eye the restraints. I eye him. I rub my thumb over the weaved trap still clinging to one of my index fingers.
“I trust you,” I whisper, “But…” It’s too familiar.
“If you want me to stop at any point, it doesn’t matter how far into it we are, just tell me and I’ll stop.”
“What if you don’t?” I ask quietly.
“Do you want a safe word?”
“What’s a safe word?”
He frowns. “A safe word. It’s your control. You just say it if you want things to stop and I’ll stop.”
I blink, my mind getting used to the idea. A safe word. Caden is giving me a safe word, a gift.
I hear him growl. “No one ever gave you a safe word?”
A shot of heat hits the back of my eyeballs and I look away before I start to cry. No one ever gave me a safe word. I was never given control, I always had to take it and even then, it was a lie. Not even when I was fucking those men in the booths of Bound did I ever really have control.
Caden’s palms come up to cup my face and he pulls up so that I’m looking at him. Against the firmness of his hands I realize I’m shaking. He peers at me. “I know this seems so messed up. I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you… everything. I wish I could give you… more, but I can’t. I want to love you. But this is the only way I know how. It’s your choice. If you can’t accept this… me… I understand. I won’t be mad.
”
He is broken inside just like I am. Beautiful broken pieces. We are both broken pieces, but together we can fight to be whole.
The look in his eyes is so tender and pleading that my heart aches for him. The reason why doesn’t matter right now. I want him, Caden Thaine, broken pieces and all. And I want him to cherish my broken pieces.
I nod and step away from him, slipping out of his hands so that I’m standing directly under the chain. This close I can see that the restraints are made of two leather cuffs meant to buckle around the wrists. Above them are two hand grips for the restrainee to hold onto. I lift my arms as if I’m asking him to take off my shirt. Instead I’m asking him to help me restrain myself. The love on his face cracks open the shell of pain across his features when he realizes what I’m doing. For him. For us.
He takes a step before me. “Thank you,” he whispers as he traces his fingers up the undersides of my arms before maneuvering my hands onto the grips. I hold the foamy grips with my fingers except for my index fingers, one finger still in the end of the trap. Caden pushes my other index finger into the other side of the trap. As he promised, he doesn’t buckle the cuffs but leaves them open.
I force myself to take a calming breath before I test the Chinese finger trap. He’s right. I’m forced to stand with my arms up above me while my fingers are in the trap, but if I push my fingers in I can loosen it and free myself.
“Are you okay?” He’s watching me with concern, as if at any moment I might freak out.
My resolve firms. If this is how he wants to make love to me – no, if this is the only way he can make love to me, I will accept it. I have accepted it. I’ll do this for him. I’ll prove to him that he can trust me and that I trust him. Because one day I may need him to understand why I am broken.
I smile. “I’m okay. I trust you.”
He leans down to kiss me, but before his lips reach mine he pauses. He pulls back with a frown on his face and makes a displeased noise in his throat. He starts to walk around me.
“What’s wrong?”
“This dress.”
I look down. I can hear his footsteps echoing around me. “What about it?”
He stops before me, but this time he has a smirk on his face. “It’s still on you.”
He moves in close so that gorgeous smirk takes up most of my vision. His hands reach around me. I hear the zip opening down my back and it makes me shiver against him like a baby bird. My dress peels away from my body and drops on the dirty floor. He doesn’t even give it a glance when he lifts my legs out of it then kicks it aside.
“My dress!”
“I’ll buy you a new one.” The roughness of his voice reverberates in my most sensitive places. “I’ll buy you a dozen.”
He lowers my legs to the floor. His eyes remain fixed on me. He reaches around again and unclasps my bra. That too falls away and is discarded across the room somewhere.
He steps back and makes a low growling noise as his eyes roam across my stretched out body, standing there only in black lace panties, stockings and a pair of heels. He’s already fucking me with those eyes.
When he steps up to me again his hands roam across my bare skin. Across my neck and shoulder and arms and waist. Everywhere except where I most desperately want him.
He kisses softly at my mouth, teasing me. I purr and push forward, desperate to taste his tongue. He reaches up to hold my neck firmly with his left hand and hold me back. He keeps his mouth far enough away so I can’t reach his lips but close enough so I’m breathing his hot breath. I watch as he brings two the fingers of his other hand up to his mouth. He stares at me as he laps at them. My pussy clenches when I see the moisture glistening at the end of his fingers. Please, touch me with them. Fuck me with them.
Instead he rubs them across my partially parted lips, breath escaping from them in short bursts. He’s showing my mouth what he’s going to do to other parts of me. He dips a fingers in, finding the wetness on my tongue and withdraws it again. He teases my lips and the tip of my tongue until finally, slowly, he pushes his fingers in. They press along the length of my tongue. I cry out around his fingers. I keep my eyes on him as I suck. He watches me as he thrusts his fingers in and out of my lips.
A small growl escapes him and both his hands melt down my body, his fingers making a moist trail across my skin. Down. Over my breasts, down my stomach. Please keep going. His fingers stop along the edge of my underwear for a moment. Bastard. He’s still toying with me. It makes me ache, but it feels so good.
One hand slips into the lace. He fingers search until they find the slickness between my legs, exactly where I have been aching for three months. The shock of his touch makes me gasp. It doesn’t soothe the ache. It makes it worse. I tilt my hips and moan. I need more.
His voice drops to a low rumble, “you are so ready for me.”
I was ready the moment I laid eyes on you. My eyes flutter shut as I press my pussy around his…
But his fingers are gone, snapping the band of my underwear as his hand leaves my body completely. My eyes open in shock. I cry out in frustration and pull against my finger trap.
“Don’t move.”
My body reacts like a sob between my legs, wetter and tighter at the loss of his touch. Oh God. When is he going to stop torturing me? I hang there, arms to the sky as if in prayer, needing him so badly that I’m shaking. That the only thing holding me up is this restraint.
He walks to the side of the room and begins to blow out the candles. One by one.
“What are you doing?”
“Do you trust me?”
“Of course.”
He continues to make his way around the room, blowing out the candles. As the room darkens shade by shade, old painful memories are shut out. As my eyes become useless, my other senses heighten to compensate. I begin to feel where the still air meets my skin. Just that touch alone makes my body break out in goose bumps. I begin to hear the difference in the sound when he steps on pieces of wood or glass, each crush and crumble sending little tickles through my inner ear. From under the smell of vanilla and rosemary potatoes the damp must of this place begins to surface.
Soon, the only candles left are the three on the table behind me. I can see my shadow touching the far wall. I hear him walk back towards me. My shadow moves along the pitted floor, so I know he has picked up the candelabra and is carrying it with him.
He stops behind me and I hear the soft clatter of the candelabra being placed on the ground. On the far wall I can see both our shadows. He’s so close, so close I can feel the heat rolling off him.
I hear the sound of his jacket falling to the floor. I watch, mesmerized as the shadow-Cade on the wall unbuttons his shirt and pulls it off his rounded shoulders, revealing a gorgeous thick chest that tapers to his waist. He slips out of his shoes and socks. His belt draws from his body like a long snake, then that too is lost to the floor. Finally he unzips his pants and drops them to the ground.
Cade is naked behind me and his shadow is naked in front of me. I draw in a breath, realizing that I had been holding it in. His fingers find my hips and he slowly peels my underwear down. I step out of them, having to rely on the grips above me to maintain my balance. I’m left in just my garter belt, stockings and my heels. I hear his breath huff out and the last three candles go out, leaving us in total darkness.
“Did you miss me?” His arms close around my waist from behind.
“Yes,” I say as his hands move across my skin, one hand travelling up, the other travelling down. One hand grips my jaw, two fingers teasing my mouth again. He runs his other hand between my legs, his fingers teasing my folds.
His breathe is hot in my ear. “I missed you.”
At the same time he pushes inside me with his fingers, two inside my mouth and two inside my pussy. Pleasure thrums like a tightened band between my lips all the way down to my core. He starts to thrust, slowly at first. I moan around him, I suck, I tighten. I try and push out with bot
h ends of my body so that I can get more. He gives in to my need and pushes faster and deeper.
Faster and deeper.
Until I can’t hold on any longer. I come around his fingers. My muffled cries echo into the ceiling of this warehouse.
His fingers slow and his teeth nip at my neck as I float back down. This buzzy need for him is already building again, so I start to move against him again. He pulls his fingers away from me, the space behind my lips feeling empty. “Cade?”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
He keeps his hands on me and uses my body to guide him as he walks around me until he stands facing me. His hands find my face and I can smell my arousal around us. His lips find mine in the dark. His tongue is rough and insistent. I can feel he’s done with waiting. His hips draw forward, trapping his erection between us. His arms are bent between us, still holding my face. His forearms press against my breasts and I can’t help move my but rub my nipples against them. The hairs on his arms are rough and feel wonderful against me. We both pour our groans into each others’ mouths and around our tongues.
His hand slips between my legs to rub the head of his cock against me. Oh. Yes.
“Please,” I whimper, “please take me.”
“No, kitten.” He positions his erection between my legs. “This isn’t me taking you. This is us giving ourselves to each other.”
He enters me, filling all the emptiness inside. And my heart explodes like a bomb.
The notes from Caden continue to come. Our dates have turned to sleepovers, never at his or mine, always at a hotel or a rented holiday home. At first I’m so consumed by our love-making that I don’t question his rules. I think that what we have is enough. I don’t realize something in me is shifting…
Today, the note comes through a letter.
When I return home from work, it’s there: the only envelope in my mailbox. Plain and white. I know it must be from Caden because no one else sends me letters. No one else knows where I live.
As I pull the envelope from my mailbox my heart starts beating against my ribs like a trapped animal against its cage. In some ways it is, and he is the only one who can set it free. I know that this letter will contain a note. And this note means I will see him again soon.