Pointe Noire (The Noire House Book 1)

by Lacie Thorne

  “Hold on. I need you to concentrate for a minute. Normally I wouldn’t tell you. I’d let you squirm and wonder, but since our time together is limited and sadly dictated by your busy dance schedule, I’m making an exception this once. Maybe knowing will increase the anticipation, in its own way.” He paused, and I opened my eyes to find a tiny frown creasing his brows. “For the next week, I’m going to withhold your orgasm, okay? You will not have permission to come until next weekend.”

  I glared at him. “What? Why?”

  The bastard had the nerve to smile. “I don’t want to hurt you, Emily. Not when I take you for the first time. Edging you over the course of this week will help. By the time I slide my cock into you, you’ll be desperate enough that it won’t hurt. Hopefully.” He stroked the curve of my cheek, resting his hand over the column of my throat. “Besides, I’ll enjoy the build-up over the next few days. Well, your build-up, anyway.”

  I stared at him, confused about how I felt. On the one hand, I was grateful for his concern, but also frustrated at even the thought of spending the next week in my current state. I’d only just learnt how to come and now he was purposefully keeping that from me.

  “There’s another thing I’d like to ask you. I already told you that I don’t want you to call me anything other than Sam. Are you happy with that? You didn’t have some burning desire to call me Sir or Master? No daddy fantasies?”

  I scrunched my face in disgust and shook my head. “God, no. Please.”

  Sam tapped the tip of my nose. “Hey, don’t judge. You wouldn’t want the vanilla folks judging you so don’t judge others. There’s a saying in our world I think you should be aware of before we go any further. Your kink is not my kink, but your kink is okay.”

  A sad smile crossed my face. “Like Garret.”

  Sam’s features tightened, but he nodded. “Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page. It leads into the last thing I want to talk to you about tonight.”

  In a sudden move, Sam shifted so that he hovered above me, both palms pressed into the bed beside my head. He stared down at me, half of his face in shadows as the light danced across his profile.

  “I like control, Emily.” Sam nudged my legs apart with his knees, wedging himself between my thighs and into the cradle of my hips. I sucked in a deep breath at the feel of his erection pressing against me. “I’ll restrain you and control how and when you move. You’ve already agreed to give me your orgasms. Over time, I’ll introduce you to other forms of control—”

  “Like the breath play thing?”

  He didn’t seem to mind that I’d interrupted him. “Yes. I want you to at least try them before you say no. If you can’t handle it, we’ll negotiate, but I don’t want to take anything off the table unless you’ve attempted it at least once.”

  I licked my lips in a nervous gesture, unsure what else he’d put me through, but I trusted Sam. He’d given me every reason to so far.

  “I might issue demands of you and sometimes they won’t be easy. It’s inevitable that sometimes you won’t be able to carry them out—”

  “I will.”

  He smiled and leaned in for the briefest kiss, more lips brushing against each other than a real kiss. “No more interrupting.” He nipped my lower lip before he spoke again. “I know you’ll try. You’re a dancer, and you’ll want to be perfect. You’re strong, but I need you to understand that I will never punish you. I’m not your father, and you’re not a child. You’re free to do as you please outside of our time together.”

  I contemplated his words, my mind drifting back to the few hours we’d shared at my place and the swats he’d given my ass. Sam must have noticed my dazed expression, shifting to free one hand and place it on the curve of my waist.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking about, Emily.”

  I didn’t miss the way he’d phrased it, demanding instead of asking. “I was just—well, wondering about—pain. I mean, if you’re not going to punish me.”

  His mouth curled in a slow grin. “I never said there won’t be pain, only that it won’t come as a punishment.” Sam let his hand drift down over my hip until he cupped the spot where thigh met ass. “How do you feel about that?”

  I moaned as he kneaded the modest flesh of one cheek. “I’m not sure. Pain doesn’t sound sexy, but I’m also a little turned on at the thought of your hand on my ass.”

  Sam laughed, using his hold to pull my hips up as he thrust against my pussy. “We’ll have to do some exploring in the future, but right now, you are severely overdressed.”

  Within moments, he’d stripped and repositioned me so my head rested on the mound of pillows. Still fully clothed, he disappeared into what I suspected was the walk-in closet and came back with a set of leather cuffs similar to the ones from The Noire House. Sam knelt on the edge of the bed and reached for my hand, fingers curling around my wrist. He stroked my pulse point, thumb caressing down to the sensitive skin where inner wrist met palm, and I shivered at the little thrill coursing through my veins.

  He leaned closer, licking the spot his thumb had just touched, his gaze never straying from mine. I swallowed back my moan, but Sam smiled, nipping gently before shifting to wrap the leather cuff around my wrist. He pulled the strap in place, giving it a sharp tug as he fastened it, the weight of the leather strangely comforting. He repeated the entire process with my other hand, lick and all. When the cuffs were secured tightly around my wrists, he straddled my hips and pushed my hands above my head.

  I gasped as he attached them to some point on the headboard I hadn’t seen, his fingers trailing all the way down my arms, his touch so light it was like a whisper. His hands stopped either side my breasts, running his palms over my ribcage. I winced and closed my eyes, worried he’d hate the way my bones stuck out far more than the average woman.

  “Emily?”

  I opened my eyes to find him frowning at me, hands stilled on my waist.

  “You okay?”

  I tried to smile. “Ballet bodies, huh?”

  His frown deepened. “You need to stop thinking like that. You’re perfect. Intoxicatingly beautiful, and you need to start accepting that.”

  He moved his hands, caressing the undersides of my breasts, while his thumbs played with my nipples. When his head dipped closer, I arched up in eager anticipation of his mouth, but he kissed my sternum, frustratingly denying where I wanted his lips. He kissed a path up my chest, stroked his tongue over my collarbone and up my neck until he reached my ear. He licked the curved shell of my ear before sucking the lobe into his hot mouth.

  I let out a ragged breath, barely able to process his next words.

  “You need to get comfortable with the fact that I love everything about your body. I love touching you. And playing with you.” He pinched my nipples simultaneously, and I jerked upright, tugging at my bonds and rubbing up against him. “And I’m definitely going to love sliding my cock inside you next weekend.”

  I groaned as he ground his hips against mine, not even close to what I needed, more tease than real friction. “Sam.”

  “I know.” He eased down my torso, mouth skimming my skin. “But it’ll be worth it, I promise.”

  He latched his mouth around my nipple, using tongue, teeth, and lips until the little bud stood to attention. He cupped my breast in one hand, reached into his pocket with the other, and pulled out a deceptively innocent-looking metal device. I shivered. I’d heard of nipple clamps, seen them even, but that was as close as I’d come.

  “Ever worn one?” Sam asked, the hand with the clamp hovering inches above my nipple.

  I shook my head, too nervous to speak. A little glint sparked in his eyes as he lowered the clamp and pinched my nipple between the prongs. I arched up at the sharp bite. He didn’t give me much recovery time, quickly moving to my other nipple and giving it the same treatment, the bite of the clamp even sharper than before. I tried to keep my cry to myself, vibrating in my throat and demanding to be let free.

 
; And then he tugged on a slim chain linking the clamps, and I screamed.

  His hand covered my mouth before more than a short screech echoed through the room. “None of that or my neighbors might come knocking on the door. Or worse. You want to be found tied to my bed, writhing with a clamp dangling from each nipple?”

  I whimpered behind his hand. He jerked the little chain, and I sank my teeth into his palm to keep from screaming again. Sam laughed, but he finally released the chain. His hand wandered down my body, rounding my hip to stroke my thigh. When he was sure I wasn’t about to make any more attempts to scream, he pulled his hand away from my mouth and crawled down my body.

  Oh, God.

  I knew what was coming. And I knew it was going to be hell not to orgasm with his mouth tormenting my pussy. He settled into the cradle between my legs, shouldering my thighs so wide I looked fucking obscene.

  “I love that you’re a dancer.” Sam placed both hands on my inner thighs, mouth descending. “Love how flexible you are.”

  No warm ups, he latched his mouth right onto my clit, sucking with more force than he had the last time we’d done this. I bit my own damn lip to keep silent, only letting my wild breathing leave my tongue. I undulated beneath him—there was no other way to put it. I kept rolling my hips back and forth, like a wave that couldn’t decide if it wanted his mouth or not.

  I planted my feet into his bed, uncaring if I left deep dents in the mattress. My hands were clenched so tight, I knew I’d have little crescent marks in my palms from my nails. And still Sam didn’t relent. He lapped at me softly, then sucked on my clit with hard pulls, before dipping down to sink his tongue inside me.

  When I squirmed away, convinced I couldn’t take another second, about to tell him he needed to stop or I’d break his current number one rule, he reached up and gripped the chain linking my nipples. The intense sting jolted me back from the edge, but I instantly tumbled closer the next second.

  “Sam, I’m—”

  “No.” He eased away, one hand settled on my lower belly, just shy of my navel and the other on the curve of my hip. Both touches so close I could feel the heat of him on my pussy, but too far to give me the stimulation I needed. “Not yet. Take a few deep breaths.”

  I did as he said, but each inhale made me even more aware of his hand on my stomach, massaging me in the most innocent way. But it sure as fuck didn’t feel innocent. He pushed my thighs even farther apart, my dancer’s body allowing him to stretch me beyond normal comfort. My outer thighs touched the bed either side of me. It should have helped, but being so exposed to him made me hotter. Wetter.

  “Don’t, Emily.” With his other hand, the one on my belly, he circled my throat, applying a faint hint of pressure. “Your orgasms are mine, remember?”

  I arched up, my nerves wrung so tight, my pussy aching. How was I going to survive another week if this is what he had planned?

  “Look at me, Emily.” He tightened his hand around my throat until our eyes met. His had gone darker than I’d ever seen them, pools of melted chocolate.

  With his jaw clenched as hard as my hands, he slapped his free palm into my thigh, the sting distracting me from the need to come. The skin burned, leaving a hot handprint that was quickly joined by several more, all in that one same spot. He clenched my throat tighter, almost but-not-quite cutting off my oxygen supply.

  My head grew fuzzy, and I swore I heard Sam growl, but it sounded so far in the distance I couldn’t be sure.

  Another sting across my thigh, this time the unmarked one, and I jolted, eyes snapping open. Had I passed out? Had I come? Sam jerked the chain and a ripple went right through my pussy, confirming that I definitely had not come. My body was still on the precipice, hovering so close I didn’t know how I hadn’t tumbled over the edge.

  “Unclench your hands. Let them fall open or you’re going to fucking hurt yourself.”

  He sounded on the edge of his control, perhaps more so than me. He leaned closer and licked both of my clamped nipples, searing them with hot strokes before he finally released them. I gasped and whimpered as the blood rushed back into the tips, hurting even more than the actual clamps. Sam kissed the lingering burn in each bud, soothing the pain away with warm, wet licks of his tongue.

  “You’re doing so well, Emily. Better than I expected.”

  Doing. Not did. Present tense instead of past. Did—did he mean to push me farther? I wasn’t sure I’d survive it, but I’d try. For him—no, for me. I’d give it my all.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sam

  I tossed and turned all night, entertaining thoughts of dragging Emily back into my bed but ultimately leaving her to sleep soundly across the hall. I’d worked her over more than I’d planned, but she’d taken it all like a fucking pro. The clamps, the slaps to her thighs, and even the breath play.

  And then I’d started it all over again, fucking her with my mouth until she was right on the edge again. When I was sure she couldn’t take any more, I’d shed my clothes and bound her on her knees with her hands behind her back so she could suck me off. There was no way I’d last the week without release.

  Cruel, perhaps, but there was a method to my denial. Hopefully one that would work.

  She was perfect. And worn the hell out by the end. So, I tucked her into bed in the guestroom and left her to rest. That was hours ago, and I still hadn’t calmed the fuck down. I wanted her too much. But I refused to hurt her, and I’d convinced myself that waiting, edging her for the week, would ensure she’d experience the least amount of pain—of the wrong kind. In the meantime, I’d suffer as much as she did, though not exactly in the same way.

  In the early hours of the morning, I gave up on sleep and found myself standing outside the open door of the guestroom. The faint rhythm of her steady breathing greeted me. I’d exhausted her. Perhaps pushed her too far, too soon. I needed to remember to take it easy on her or I’d ruin this—us—before we even got going.

  Instead of wandering inside the way I wanted, I climbed the stairs to the third floor and flicked on the overhead lights. Heavy plastic covered the newly-installed sprung flooring in haphazard ripples and bunches, the clear sheeting spattered with white paint. During the day, the huge window on the far side flooded the space with sunlight, but revealed a black pit beyond the glass at night.

  The studio still required a lot of work before it would be complete, but I was lucky to have found a house with enough space. I imagined what it would look like once the contractors finished adding the full wall of mirrors and barre. My thoughts took a decidedly perverted turn when I pictured Emily pirouetting in front of the window, sunlight bathing her bare skin in an amber glow.

  Ideas began to form, my plans shifting from the purely functional room to something more interesting. By the time the rising sun lightened the sky, turning it several shades of indigo and pink, I had a list of requests for the renovation team. With a smile, I headed downstairs and put a pot of coffee on before going about the normal morning routines.

  Blue was nowhere in sight, but I suspected where I’d find him. I poked my head into Emily’s room and sure enough, Blue lay curled around her slender frame, his head resting on her hip. His ears twitched, icy eyes zeroing on me, but he otherwise pretended not to notice. I smothered a laugh and shook my head.

  “Best spot in the house, huh, buddy?”

  Emily sighed in her sleep and rolled over, her arm landing in Blue’s fur and her hand clenching around a few tufts. The two of them looked ridiculously cute and comfortable, but I tried to call Blue, whispering so as not to wake Emily. The big guy remained glued to her side, stubbornly staring at me from his spot with her snuggled next to him.

  Despite my attempts to be quiet, Emily’s eyes flickered open, a drowsy smile tugging at her lips when she spotted me. “Morning.”

  Fuck, her voice was rough and sexy when she just woke up.

  “Sorry,” I whispered as I edged inside the room. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back
to sleep.”

  She laughed. “Why are you whispering?”

  “So I don’t wake you.” I kissed her forehead and palmed Blue’s collar at the same time. “No reason for you to get up yet. Blue and I are going for a run, but you sleep.”

  She shook her head and slid a hand around my neck. “You could always join me here instead.”

  I smiled, enjoying this bold side of her. “Much as I’d love to, Blue needs his exercise.” I glanced down at where he was burrowed into the covers and laughed. “Not that you can tell right now, but be usually gets antsy if we don’t go for a walk at least once a day.”

  She groaned, a sound that nearly had me caving and climbing under the covers to get to her body. When she didn’t comment, I leaned in and kissed her head again. “I’ll be back soon. Feel free to make yourself at home. There’s coffee downstairs when you get up, and I’ll make breakfast for us when I get back.”

  I somehow dragged myself away from her and tugged Blue with me. Once he realized we were headed for Audubon Park, he perked up, no longer resenting me for taking him away from Emily. The park was quiet, most people on their way to work for the start of another week. Blue ran a few steps in front of me, his leash in my hand but not connected to his collar. I kept it handy just in case, but he was always well behaved enough to be trusted without one.

  We were both panting and sweating—or at least I was—when we returned to the house, cutting through the gate that opened out onto the edges of the park and led into my living room. It was another reason I’d bought this house, despite the limited garden space. Blue bounded in after me, tail wagging as he rushed down the hall. Emily’s voice carried through the house as she greeted him.

  I wasn’t surprised to find she’d claimed the open spot near the breakfast nook, a purple yoga mat spread out on the hardwood floor where the sun streamed into the space. I’d asked her to forgo her Monday dance classes so it stood to reason she’d find another form of exercise. It’s what I would have done. Ballet was unforgiving on the body and a dancer needed to stay in top shape, a fine balance between training and resting.