The metal was cold. The water that jetted into her warm. The reflection of her face had gone pale in the mirror, her eyes enormous. She moaned and bit her lip, feeling more exposed, more out of control than ever in her life. And more aroused.
It filled her, adding pressure. How far would he take it? Maybe too humiliating.
“Morpheus, Sir?” she whispered.
He paused. Turned off the stream of water and caressed her hip. “Too much?”
“Just, can I do the rest in private—pick it up from there?”
“Of course.” He took something else from the shelf and lubed it up, watching her closely. The jet of water stopped and he slipped the nozzle out of her, then deftly replaced it with the other device, one that stretched her wide before it popped in, sealing the fluids, the pressure, inside her.
“Game on?” he asked and she nodded. Alec braced himself on an upright and leaned over her, dark and deadly, reaching under her to tug on the nipple clamps. She shuddered, fighting the bonds.
“Please don’t do this,” she begged him, meeting his gaze.
“I hear the words.” He slid his hand down her taut belly, cupped her mound and caressed her, fingers bracketing her clit so he made her crazy but not enough to make her come, ramping the intensity back up again. “But you’re so very wet. You crave this. Admit it.”
“No.” The vicious tension rode through her at his light touch, all of the scenario sending her reeling. “Let me go, please!”
“You’re mine to do with as I wish. My helpless captive.”
He worked the butt plug with the other hand, pumping it slightly, so the pressure built impossibly higher, watching her struggle not to come. “This is what you’ll do for me and then we’ll revisit. I’m going to release you and you’ll take yourself into the water closet and empty yourself for me. Nice and clean.” He released her bonds as he spoke. Then handed her the tube of lube. “You’ll need this. Use plenty—you’ll be grateful you did. Put the plug back in and meet me in the bedroom. Don’t try to escape or things will go much worse for you.”
Shaking enough she could hardly walk, she obeyed. Unable to form coherent thoughts, in some kind of out-of-body delirium, she relied on following instructions, emptying herself in private and then reinserting the plug. The big bath was off the hallway that led to the master bedroom and he’d darkened all the lights, leaving only a soft glow from the master to guide her. Anticipation and trepidation both wound through her gut, the ache in her nipples from the swaying weights sinking down to seep out between her legs, slicking her thighs. Absurdly nervous to enter the room, she hesitated in the doorway, feeling much like she’d been summoned to the principal’s office.
With all the dark fantasies that entailed.
“Hands and knees,” Alec’s voice snapped out and she obeyed reflexively, dropping to the plush carpet with a surge of longing. “Come here.”
She crawled across the floor to where he sat in an armchair, shrouded in shadows. He’d lit candles, but only a few. Not enough to dispel the sense of intimate mystery, of vague threat, and that only the two of them existed in the world. The curtains stood open to the city, the towers of lights glittering. She halted at his feet, the black leather of his shoes a soft gleam in the dimness.
“Show your obedience,” he whispered. She bent and kissed the shoe, soft and cool under her lips, while the rest of her melted in the lava of need. He brushed a hand over her head, running the braid through his fingers, then wrapping it around his fist. Lifting her to her feet, he directed her to the window, arranging her so she faced out, her palms flat against plate glass, the nipple clamps clinking musically, the dizzying drop of the city spread all around. “Can they see you, do you think?” he asked in her ear, stroking his hands down her flanks. “Are they watching, knowing what you’re letting me do to you? What you can’t stop from happening?”
“I don’t know.” But she could imagine it and it worked her as much as his casually possessive hands.
He leaned into her, crushing her against the glass, mouth feeding on her neck and hands clamping her front and back, making her squirm. Then he took her wrists and slid her hands down the glass, walking her hips toward him until she was bent in half. He tugged on her braid, the hook clinking against something else metallic and then tightened, pulling on the butt plug that already stretched her. She whimpered, unable to stop from resisting, which only pulled on both.
“Stay still.”
He wandered away, silent on the thick carpeting. She tried to stay still, but the position made that impossible. Her curved back ached to straighten, her scalp protested, but when she tried to relieve them, the plug in her ass dug in deeper, echoed by the throbbing in her nipples. Complete mind and body fuck.
The frantic mewling sounds must be coming from her, because he murmured something soothing, running a hand over her hip and down her thigh. Attaching something to her ankle cuff, he spread her legs wide apart, and attached the other. Something rigid that didn’t allow her to close her straining thighs.
“So lovely.” He palmed her bottom, sliding a finger into her empty channel and stroking. “So totally helpless. My little virgin.”
With her head craned back, she could see his dim reflection in the glass as he stood behind her, watch him slide his cock into her slick passage. The dual penetration seemed like it would split her apart, so intense. She moaned and tried to pull away, but he sharply smacked her ass and pushed in deeper.
“You wanted this.” His voice had frayed, gone dark and ragged. “By God you’ll take it.”
He thrust in and out of her and she lost herself to all but that, clinging to the edge of control. Just when she thought she’d go insane from it, the braid released and he cupped her mound, working the plug free.
Then slid into her there.
He was larger than the plug had been. And longer. Filling her more deeply. So darkly intimate. His clever fingers worked her clit, sending her into an ascending frenzy of need.
“Please,” she gasped, unable to frame more than that. “Please.”
“When I say.” He thrust in and out, the sensation so intense, shattering. Unreal.
With his other hand, he gathered her breasts together, squeezing them, and she cried at it, a long stream of pleas. The forestalled orgasm seemed as agonizing as any of it. He accelerated his pace, smacking into her hips so hard she had to brace against the glass.
“Now!” He shouted, simultaneously dragging off the clamps and pinching her clit, ramming to the hilt inside her.
She screamed. Flung far from the earth, fired into orbit by the incredible release. Rocket fuel. Nuclear fission.
She blasted into tiny fragments of who she’d been.
Chapter Twenty-Six
His knees threatened to buckle and he barely managed to stay upright through possibly the most intense orgasm of his life.
What is it about me that gets to you? Amber had asked, half-curious ingénue, half-sensual woman teasingly perched on his lap. She never let up, forgiving him everything, excusing him nothing. Pushing him to do his worst.
Daring him.
And now he’d buried himself in her deliciously tight ass. A bit more innocence stripped away. Devouring her the way he’d wanted from the first moment he laid eyes on her.
What is it about me that gets to you?
He had no idea. He only knew she did.
She might be helpless under him, shackled, speared, tormented and subdued, but she’d taken him prisoner. Worse, behind those searching blue eyes and determined questions, her canny brain knew it and exploited him ruthlessly. She shuddered under him, drooping, her hands sliding against the glass. Did she know the external window treatment kept anyone from seeing in—or did she trust him that much?
Likely the latter. She trusted him beyond reason. A tho
ught that terrified him.
Easing out of her and stripping off the condom, he wrapped her around the waist and helped her to the chair, then divested her of the spreader bar and cuffs. She lolled bonelessly, a pale slim figure against the dark leather, eyes nearly closed, completely exhausted.
“Come to bed, darling.” He brushed her cheek and she smiled without opening her eyes.
“Gonna stay right here,” she murmured. “Can’t move.”
“All right then.” He managed to scoop her up, a surge of deep affection filling him at the way she curled into him, soft, curvy, impossibly sensual, winding her graceful arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m so glad it was you. You’re perfect.”
He laid her on the sheets, the same pale champagne color as the cuffs he’d had rush designed and then had resolved never to use. The colors suited her—he’d had that right, if nothing else. He unbraided her hair and spread it out across the pillow. Her breathing had already softened into deep sleep and he shucked off the suit, too wrung dry to do more than drop it on the floor. Suit porn. She never ceased to surprise and delight him.
He managed enough energy to snuff the candles, then slid into bed with her, wrapping himself around her, breathing in her scent and loving how she snuggled into him.
Perfect.
* * *
He woke before she did this time. She looked more like an angel than ever, face soft, peaceful in sleep, one slim hand curled under her cheek, hair kinked from the tight braid in a glittering cascade, shades darker than the sheets. The mark on her neck stood out livid against her creamy skin—stirring both regret and desire.
His typical mix with her, it seemed. And yet, even with that, he itched to roll her under him, to watch her innocent eyes darken with her wickeder nature, for her body to go pliant under his, offering him everything in her artless, trusting way.
As if she sensed his sharpening thoughts, she opened her eyes. A drowsy blink followed by a radiant smile. “Hi.”
He couldn’t help smiling back, the taint of regret sliding away. “Hi.”
She scooted closer, pressing her warm naked breasts against him and sliding a long thigh between his, rocking her hip against his erection. “Look who’s up.”
So beautiful, with that mischief sparkling in her eyes. She parted her lips as he leaned in for the kiss, welcoming him into her mouth with a soft mmm. Indulging himself, he traced the curving landscape from her shoulder to her waist, the rounded hip, the slim thigh, so delicately soft on the inner curve, her cleft wet and hot. She gasped, that enticingly sweet sound as he pushed a finger inside her welcoming heat, spreading her thighs and pulling her onto her back.
With a sly glance, she reached for the bedside stand, freed the condom from its foil and sheathed him with it. Then guided him into her, expression going sublime as he went deep. She pushed the sheet down his thighs, using her feet to kick it off of him. “I want to watch this,” she purred into his ear.
For himself, he watched her face as he set a lazy tempo, the pleasure clouding the blue. She enfolded him, fingers dancing over his back, savoring him as he loved to do with her. Digging into the muscles of his shoulders, the backs of his thighs, scraping over his ass. Her deep moans increased from warm whispers to erotic openmouthed cries. He increased the speed, raising her knee to penetrate deeper, rewarded by the way her eyes rolled back in her head.
The climax shouldered into him, demanding release, and he held out, waiting for her. She focused on his face, dragging her nails down his chest and lifting her hips to meet his thrusts.
“Kiss me, Alec,” she commanded, glowing with the power she wielded.
Helpless to resist her, he bent to obey, the orgasm tearing loose as their lips touched. She cried out her pleasure into his mouth, body flexing in waves that buoyed his. She clung to him, clamping onto him with arms, legs and her rippling wet heat, offering a sensual comfort that flooded him with a release far more than sexual.
* * *
“I’m starving.” She walked naked into the bedroom, hair wrapped in a towel and skin flushed from her shower.
“No surprise as we never ate dinner.”
She tipped her head, thinking. “You’re right. See what a cheap date I am? Tons of kinky sex and all for a glass of wine. I’m not counting the one you broke—that’s on you.”
“Perfectly reasonable. I clearly owe you. What would you like—shall we order up?”
“No. I want diner breakfast. Something very greasy and American.” She rummaged in her bag, yanking out a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, then tossed them on the bed and gave him a look. “In public.”
“Amber...”
She wiggled into a pair of scandalously sexy red lace knickers and slipped on a matching bra, casually plumping her breasts as she adjusted the fit. “I’m serious about this, Alec. I want to be able to go out and have breakfast with you on a gorgeous Saturday morning. There’s, what, over eight million people in the city and something like one point five in Manhattan alone. What are the odds we’ll run into someone we know?”
“Am I allowed to factor in Murphy’s Law?”
“No.” She pulled the shorts over her long legs, whipped the towel off her wet hair and yanked the shirt over her head. It was hot pink, had a woman’s face on it and said WE ARE THE MEDIA. She looked him over. Cocked her head. “I love that you wear a button-down shirt even on a weekend morning.”
“And what’s the one you have on?”
She glanced down, pulled it out from her body to look. “That’s Amanda Fucking Palmer. Indie rock star. She’s married to Neil Gaiman, a name you should recognize by now. We can discuss over breakfast. Out.”
“You’re terribly pushy for a supposedly submissive girl.”
“You know the saying—submissive whore in the bedroom, pushy broad in the drawing room.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it goes.” But she amused him, making him smile with her irrepressible spirit. “Besides, we’re still in the bedroom.”
She put her arms around his waist and rubbed against him like a cat, a teasing smile curving her fresh lipstick. “Unless you’re planning to make use of it, I want you to feed me.”
“I see. Still a reasonably cheap date.” He squeezed her pert bottom and she winced. “Sore?”
“A bit. What I get for having your enormous cock rammed up my virgin ass.” She gave him a sunny smile.
“Such a pretty mouth. Such a filthy one.”
“You like it. You can’t resist me.”
“True. Very well then, as I’m clearly doomed, let’s go and have breakfast.”
“Yay! Let me just comb out my hair.”
“I need a shave.”
“No, don’t.” She scraped her nails along his stubble. “I like the shadow. Very sexy.”
“You think everything is sexy.”
“You were the one who said the everyday can be sexually fraught. I happen to agree.”
They walked out through the lobby, the day bright and busy indeed. Amber threaded her arm through his when Sean opened the glass doors for them.
“Good morning, Sean! Thank you,” she sang out. Completely incorrigible.
“Is there anyone you don’t enjoy teasing?”
“Hush. I’m having a Pretty Woman moment here.”
“You don’t know who Sinead O’Connor is, but you’ve seen that movie?”
“Every girl has seen that movie. Classic Cinderella and don’t bug me about the details.” She slid him a speculative look. “You know, you could pull off that Richard Gere look, if you went silver—with your pretty brown eyes.”
“I’m not that old.” Yet.
True to her word, she picked an old-fashioned-style diner and insisted on sitting at the co
unter. Making happy sounds as she drank her mocha with whipped cream on top, spinning on the stool, long legs bare and ending in sparkly sandals, she looked both gorgeous and terribly young. The ponytail she’d pulled her hair into, not wanting to take the time to dry it, didn’t help. She perused the laminated menu—then ordered an absurdly large breakfast—and badgered him to do the same.
He enjoyed himself, he discovered. Letting her draw him into telling stories of London and his family. After they ate, they walked along the wrought iron fence that bordered Central Park, Amber insisting that they’d be swallowed up among the thousands of people thronging the place on a sunny weekend.
“Carriage ride for you and your daughter, sir?” One of the men with the horse-drawn carriages called out.
Bloody hell. And there Amber went, with that delighted mischief on her face. With her arm already looped through his, she squeezed against him and gave him a huge smile. “Oh, Daddy! Can we? Please please please?”
He glared at her, but she only pressed her breast against his arm, enjoying his discomfort.
“Fine then.” He helped her into the carriage. “But I’m going to paddle your bottom for that,” he hissed into her ear as he settled beside her.
“Promises, promises.” She looped a slim thigh over his lap and snuggled against his chest. “You’re the best Daddy ever.”
“Stop that. You’ll scandalize that poor bloke.”
“It’s his own damn fault for making assumptions. Besides—” she slipped a hand between them to brush his hardening cock, “—it turns you on.”
“You turn me on,” he corrected, but relented and took the kiss she offered, sliding a hand along her silky thigh, letting her stroke his erection behind the visual barrier of her leg. Completely irresistible. “And I know you enjoy yanking my chain.”
“Yes. Yes, I do. Because, if I yank hard enough, dark Alec comes out to play.”
Bemused, he tugged her ponytail. “Dark Alec?”
“You know. Right now you’re sunny Alec. Happy. Laughing. Relaxed. And then you get that edge, like when the cabbie called me your daughter. Then you go all intense and demanding. Kind of angry, kind of severe with it. Like you get in scenes. Dark Alec.” She nuzzled his neck, bit lightly. “Mmm.”
Under His Touch Page 23