“Ready to go, then?”
I scowled at him. Teasing this much was totally unfair. “You know I am.”
I got his hint of a smile again for that. “Right.”
He raised a hand for the check, slipped his credit card immediately into the folder, and had it back within a minute, during which time he was thumbing his phone. And then he was finally leading me outside, and Charles was there to open the car door.
The second we were in the car, after checking that the window between us and Charles was still up, I said, “Do not even think about it. We’re not doing anything else until we can finish.”
“Want to finish, do you? How many times?”
“How...many...times?”
“This seems like a good night to find out what you’re capable of, don’t you think?” He tucked my hair behind my ear, his touch oddly tender. “You going to count, or shall I?”
“If we do that,” I said, doing my feeble best to keep some control over the situation, “you could be holding out for hours. Do you really think you’re capable of that?”
“Not if I make you take care of me first,” he said, and took my breath away. “Here we are.”
One of the grand historic apartment buildings on Central Park West, I registered fuzzily as a doorman held the door for us, as Hemi nodded to the man behind the security desk and led me to an elevator bank, his hand once again on my lower back, burning straight through my clothes. And that was all I noticed, because I was past caring.
He didn’t grab me in the elevator this time. He waited, unspeaking, while my pulse raced along with the floor indicator. I wanted to say something else, to ask, but I couldn’t think what.
When he opened the door to his apartment, I barely saw it. It was big, more like a house, furnished with more of those stark lines in contrast to the historic architecture. Modern furniture, black and white, plenty of leather, with splashes of accent color in walls and accessories. But I didn’t take that in, either, because Hemi had my coat and his own jacket off, had tossed them onto a couch, and was leading me by the hand into a master bedroom dominated by a massive low bed.
“Got anything you need to do,” he said, turning to me, “before I tie you to my bed?”
The rush of heat was so strong, I could feel the flush rising all the way into my face. “No.”
“Good.” He pulled out a drawer and took out some things I recognized, including the same red ties.
“I’d love to take my time undressing you tonight,” he told me. “But I want to see you on your knees in those undies even more.” He’d stepped forward, was sliding his hands under the hem of my sweater, and I sucked in a breath at the feeling of hard hands against bare skin. And then he’d pulled the sweater over my head, tossed it onto the bench at the foot of the bed, and was reaching for the zipper of my skirt and pulling it down.
“Oh, yeh,” he said when I’d kicked my way out of the skirt. “I was right. I’m going to enjoy watching you in those.”
I’d never been anything close to voluptuous. I’d always been too short, too small-boned, my curves too subtle for that. But his words, his touch, his hungry eyes made me feel that way.
He lifted my left hand, wrapped the ribbon around it three times, and tied the other end to the bedpost, and there was that surge again, making my knees wobble.
“Now you can’t get away,” he said. “But you can still take off your shoes, and you can get on your knees, too. And you’re going to do it right now. Show me you remember what I taught you before. Give me a chance to take care of you the way you need it, because I’m going to be doing everything to you tonight.”
I looked him in the eye, bent and took off my shoes, set them next to the bed, and lowered myself slowly to my knees. And then I looked up at him. “Sure you can take it?”
“Oh,” he said, “I think so.”
“Hmm. I can tease, too, you know.” I had my hand on his belt buckle, and I ran my fingers over the leather, all the way to the edge of the leather tongue and back. “You might not want to make me so mad next time. No telling what I’ll do.”
“Pretty saucy,” he said, “for a girl who’s on her knees.” But he didn’t sound quite as in control as he had a few moments ago.
“If I do anything you don’t like, you can take it out of me later, how’s that?” I pulled the tongue free of the buckle and rested my hand on the button of his gray woolen trousers, and couldn’t help the secret little smile of satisfaction at the bulge I wasn’t touching.
“That...” he said, and he was definitely having a little trouble now, “that works for me.” His fingers were already in my hair, and if just that little bit of teasing had worked this well? I was definitely going to be doing some more.
And I did. I did it all. Slowed down, then sped up again. Worked hard, then worked...softer. Touched and explored and played. And when he tried to tell me what to do...this time, I didn’t listen. Until his hands were pulling hard at my hair, his head was thrown back, and he was groaning.
“Bloody hell,” he gritted out between his teeth. “I know I can’t shove you. I’m trying so hard not to force you. Please...please finish.”
He was begging, and I loved it. I smiled around him, and then I did it. Gave it everything I had, and took everything he had, and loved that, too.
By the time I sat back on my heels and looked up at him, his legs were shaking as hard as mine had ever been. I might have been the one tied to the bed, but there was no question who’d been in control of this encounter, and surely that was good for Hemi. I knew it was good for me.
“Right,” he said when he could speak again. “On the bed. On your back.”
The throb that had started fully two hours ago had grown into a hard, pulsing ache by now. I’d be going up so fast as soon as he touched me, and I needed him to touch me so badly. And now? I was done teasing. I sat on the bed, lay down, and lifted my other hand over my head.
“You can’t wait, can you?” he said. Getting his fierce back, it was clear. Which was just fine by me, because I wanted it.
“No. I can’t. Please. Do it.” It didn’t bother me a bit to say, either.
Instead of tying me down, though, he untied the ribbon from around the bed, reached for the clasp of my bra, and pulled it off.
“No, Hemi,” I said. “I want it this way. I do.”
He smiled a little. “I know you do. You’re going to get it, too. You loved it on your hands and knees, though.”
“Yes.” I would have felt embarrassed by that, except I could tell by the look in his eyes how much he enjoyed the thought.
I was right, too, because he said, “Mm. You’re a girl who likes it best from behind. Lucky, because that’s my favorite as well. The most submissive posture there is. So turn over, sweetheart. This is how you’re going to get it tonight.”
I stared into his eyes, and he kept looking back at me, and, slowly, I turned onto my stomach. I turned my head to the side so I could see him, and he pulled the hand that still had its ribbon attached back up toward the bedpost and fastened it down, then was wrapping another tie around the other wrist and fastening it in place.
My hands weren’t together now. This time, he’d tied each one to an opposite post, and that alone had the heat surging some more.
“We’re going to do it all tonight,” he said. “So before we go any further, you need to choose a safe word. That’s going to be your word every time we’re together from now on.”
I didn’t need that, surely. It felt so...dirty, like we were living some ‘lifestyle.’ I didn’t want to wear a label. I just wanted to experiment. I just wanted to play. “I’m all right,” I said.
“No,” he said. “Choose. A word that means ‘stop,’ no matter what. I should’ve done it before, but I may not have been thinking too clearly. You need to know I’ll stop, and I need to know that you can tell me.”
“Uh...I don’t know.” I thought about the movie we’d watched. “Pie.”
&nbs
p; “Pie, eh. Right. You say ‘pie,’ and I’ll stop. Whatever I’m doing. Always. Because this time...” He sat on the edge of the bed beside me and stroked my hair back from my cheek. “You’re not going to be able to untie yourself. You’re going to have to trust me. Do you trust me?”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
He stood up so I couldn’t see him, and his voice wasn’t quite so gentle anymore. “Trust me to tease you, to make you come over and over, until you’re shaking, until you’re screaming? Trust me to fuck you so hard you scream some more?”
I was nearly coming already. “Hemi,” I moaned. “Please.”
I didn’t get an answer, because he wasn’t with me anymore. I could tell he was gone. I couldn’t even hear him anymore. I lay, trembling and soaking wet, for minutes, tied to his bed on my stomach wearing only a black lace thong, and was suddenly seized by a horrible thought. I’d never specified that I didn’t want multiple partners. What if he’d tied me down and gone to go get...somebody else? He wouldn’t do that to me, though. Would he?
By the time I heard him returning, I’d worked my way into a full anxiety attack. “Hemi?” I asked, and could hear the strain in my voice. I turned my head, but couldn’t see him.
“Yeh?” The voice came from the foot of the bed.
“You don’t have...anybody else with you, do you? That’s not all right. Nobody else. Please.”
“Sweetheart.” He sat down beside me on the bed and ran a gentle hand over my shoulder, down my back, and it was such a relief to see him, to know he was alone, that I shook. “Have you been lying here worrying?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “Yes.”
“No,” he said. “Nobody else. Ever. I thought I’d made that pretty clear. You’re all mine, and you’re going to stay that way. Nobody else, no pain, and nothing at all that you don’t want. You say the word, and we’re done.”
He was naked. Fully aroused again, all hard muscle and hard man, and once again, every nerve I possessed was quivering, at the screaming edge. But not from fear, not anymore. Because he was lifting my hips, just as he’d done in his office, putting a larger wedge under my belly this time, positioning me over it, then stroking his hand over the curves of my bottom, making me quiver and moan.
“This is so I can have total access,” he said. “Because you’re not going to be able to get to your hands and knees tonight.”
“Wh-what?” His hand was still there, and every bit of attention I had was concentrated in that hand. But what was he talking about?
I felt my thong being pulled over my hips, down my legs, and I was fully naked. And then I got my answer, because his hand was around my ankle, exactly as it had been that first evening under my desk, and he was pulling my legs apart. I felt the ribbon being wrapped around my ankle, then the yank as he fastened me down. He did the same to the other ankle, until I was pulled tight, spread-eagled on my stomach, my bottom high in the air.
“My butterfly,” he said. “Fastened down to my web. What’s going to happen to her?”
I couldn’t answer, because I was too far gone already, and he didn’t say anything more. I lay there for agonizing seconds before I heard a buzz that made me jump.
“Have you ever used a vibrator?”
He was somewhere behind me, and I couldn’t see him. “N-no. Too noisy. And I don’t...I don’t need one. Just touch me.”
His laugh was pure melted chocolate. “Oh, I’m going to touch you. I’m going to touch you everywhere.”
He was over me, then. Kneeling between my legs, drawing the buzzing instrument over my back, lingering on the sensitive spot between my shoulder blades as I shivered at the delicious stimulation. Around to my sides, as far as he could reach toward my breasts, and I was shifting. Slow and hot as sin down my spine, all the way to my tailbone, which was the best yet, and there were some moans escaping now. And, finally, over the curves of my bottom, all the way to the crease at the top of my thighs. Down, up, and down some more. So close, and not nearly close enough.
The closer he got, the slower he went. And then, when he was almost there...he shifted it. Began to move the buzzing thing gently up and down my thighs, over every sensitized inch of them, making me squirm. Then up the insides, drifting closer. Closer. The vibration setting up a reaction, a seismic shift inside me that was so close to erupting. So close, until he stopped a bare inch from the junction of my legs and stayed there, rotating the delicate pressure over first one thigh, then the other. As soon as I became accustomed to the sensation and began to relax, he would shift legs and start me up again. Winding me so tight.
By now, I was keening. “Hemi. Please. Please.”
Finally, he moved. Not to where I needed him most, where I was burning for him. Over my outer lips instead, circling once, twice, three times. But the delicious buzz vibrated all the way up, and I was there. Up and over, shaking hard, my hips jerking to the limit my bonds would allow. Calling out loud.
He kept up the intense pressure all the way through it, until I was barely on my way down. Then he pulled the vibrator away, the buzzing stopped, and I cried out again at the loss. I tensed, expecting to feel him inside me, needing that more than I’d ever needed anything. Instead, I heard the noise starting up again, felt its touch, and jerked against my restraints. But there was a difference this time. The motion was no longer steady. It was a rhythmic pulse, and the hard plastic was wet. Slippery.
I’d barely registered that before he’d shoved it inside me in one quick motion that made me scream at the shock, at the nearly overwhelming pulse. I was twisting, thrashing, unable to dislodge it. Climbing again despite everything, panting, calling out, and climaxing so hard it almost hurt.
“Enough,” I gasped when I could speak. “Enough.”
“You’ve got a word,” he said. “Pie. Say the word, and it’s over.”
I couldn’t answer, because I was coming again.
“Say the word,” he told me.
“N-no. No. No.” It was too much, and I never wanted it to end.
“No, pie?” he insisted. “Or no, don’t stop?”
“No...don’t stop,” I managed to say. “Don’t...stop. Ohhhh....”
Another low laugh. “Then I’ll just leave this here a minute, shall I? And while I do...” He sighed. “Time to try something else.”
I barely heard him, because I was making too much noise. Spiking up again and again, for long, unbearable minutes, until I thought it was going to split me in two. Until I felt something else, and heard it, too. A second buzz, another wet, hard surface, a smaller tip teasing at the other entrance.
“Hemi.” I was squirming again. “Ah...”
“Ever wanted to try anal sex?” He had hold of both vibrators now, was moving them, and the pulse...it was killing me.
“N-no,” I said, although it was a lie. I’d always wondered. How could that feel good?
“Well, you’re going to try it tonight.” The tip of the little one had moved the smallest bit inside me now, and I was tightening against it, clenching all my internal muscles.
Which made the next climax hit me like a train. And as soon as it did, Hemi slipped the smaller vibrator inside. Thrillingly alien, unbelievably stimulating, and I was screaming.
The orgasms were almost continuous now. A few seconds after one ended, I was climbing into another. My arms and legs were shaking, my forehead banging against the mattress.
When I thought I couldn’t stand it another second, Hemi pulled both devices out, shifted all the way over me, pulled my hips up even higher with one hand, and thrust into me, hard and fast. He was so much bigger than the vibrator, and the added stretch, the angle, the depth of his penetration gave this another dimension. He was hitting the sweet spot with every stroke, and I was bucking, moaning, my head still banging. He had one hand over my upper back again, was pushing me down, using me without a bit of gentleness, exactly how I needed it, and all I wanted was more.
There was nothing but this, nothing but hard sensat
ion, ratcheting up higher and higher until he was swearing himself, until he was emptying into me, until I was jerking against my restraints with everything I had. Until I saw stars.
I rolled away from Hope at last, disposed of the condom, then untied her ankles with hands that were actually shaking before moving around the bed and unfastening her wrists.
She was still shuddering as if she couldn’t stop, her face buried in the mattress, and I felt a twinge of alarm that overrode the lingering, bone-deep satisfaction from one of the strongest orgasms of my life. Had I hurt her after all? Not given her enough chance to say no? When she’d begun to climax so fiercely, so continuously, all I’d wanted was to make her do it again and again, and then to feel what it would be like to be inside her when she was that far gone. Had I checked in with her enough, though? I couldn’t even remember.
I pulled out the wedge that had been holding her up for me, lay down beside her, and pulled her into my arms. “Hope. Talk to me.”
“Uh...” She was still shuddering. “Can’t...stop.”
“Baby.” I smoothed my hand over her hair, down her back. “All right?”
“Y-yes.” The shudders had turned to shivers now, to my relief. “Keep...holding me.”
“Too much?”
“Yes. Too...amazing. Th-thank you.”
“No.” I kissed her closed eyelids, stroked her hair some more, and breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. You’re the amazing one. I nearly had a heart attack.”
She opened her eyes at that. One of her hands came up to touch my chest and run over my shoulder, down my arm, because she seemed to need to touch me, too. “You did?”
“Oh, yeh. I did.”
When I levered myself up, she tightened her grip on me and said, “Don’t go.”
I bent to kiss her cheek. “Nah. Just going to get a warm towel, clean you up.”
“Then will you hold me some more?”
“Yeh,” I said. “I will. I’ll hold you all night.”
Except that I couldn’t, of course. I lay with her for a bit, stroked her some more, and within minutes, she was asleep. Knackered, not that I could blame her. I’d never seen a woman respond like that.
Fierce (Not Quite a Billionaire) Page 21