Your Red Always

by Leeann Whitaker

  “What’s in there that’s bothering you so much?”

  “It’s a room… intended for you,” he murmurs. “A room designed for my needs.”

  I frown with a stumped grin. “For me… for your needs?”

  “It’s kind of a custom for those in the Order.” I find his incoherent mumbling very hard to hear, and have to tilt my head nearer to him. “All Executives who have a Red, have a distinctive room. But we’re not going to use it?” He says. “I don’t need to, Elizabeth.”

  “Fuck… I knew it. There’s kinky stuff in there isn’t there?”

  His eyes spin, annoyed. “Take a look.”

  I inhale and open the door, to find a set of stained wooden stairs. I’m so eager. There’s an irrepressible impishness in me, that can’t be shaken off.

  I climb halfway, but don’t hear him follow. I glance over my shoulder. He’s stood there still at the bottom, anxiously glaring up.

  “Elizabeth, I can’t go up there.”

  “Come on… this your house, and it’s not like you’ve killed anyone.” I huff. “Or have you?” I chuckle.

  “Fuck it.” He jogs up behind me.

  I place my foot onto a solid redwood floor. I raise my head to see a vast round beamed roof, which has six heavy duty black hooks spaced out at different location on the main beam. There are no straight walls. It’s just a huge round space with deep maroon and gold wall coverings, and a tall fancy mahogany cabinet. My eyes search this evocative room further. I see three elegant wall lights that produce a hot sexy atmosphere against the rich red. Crap, I’m tingling all over.

  I’m supposed to be shocked. I’m supposed to be against this kind of fetish stuff. My mum’s midlife crisis created that dislike in me. But now I feel I know Adrien enough to be curious about his needs. To be interested.

  I’ve been trying not to look. But now I have to. Perhaps I want to. I hum out.

  The bed is stood dead centre. A modern chunky solid four poster, made from stripped and waxed railway sleepers. It’s not as bad as my mind made out to be a second ago. It has hooks on each post, one in the bedhead, and one in the foot-base. There are drapes of cream lace that swag over the posts, giving it a softer look. And the sheets are taupe silk. But no chains, leather straps, or intimidating handcuffs are on show, which is a bizarre relief. The longer I look at this erotic bed, the more my imagination fills with dirty thoughts.

  I pace coolly. I feel so audacious and keen. It’s like he told me, I may get fucked up like that curious cat. Because right now, my body is liking the idea of using this room with him, very much.

  I run my hand over a brown leather chair, the kind I dream will be in my office one day, and stop before the tall cabinet. I move my hand to the door and bite my cheek, observing Adrien’s cagey eyes. I pull, but it’s locked.

  “The key,” he says, sheepishly.

  I use the same door key to open the gold lined lock, taking a big breath.

  This is it Liz. This will tell you what kind of guy you’re involved with. If there’s whips and spanking sticks in here. Or anything that’s the size of a forearm, and runs on batteries. You’re going to have to seriously get you head checked out, if you’re still stood here in the next five minutes.

  I swallow and open. I can’t see, so pull ajar the other door. I note fabric; red silk and rope on the top shelf. The one below houses a box made of solid silver, with lettering engraved on each surface. It’s the size of an average shoe box, and looks antique. I take it out and look to him. It’s weighty and the lid is locked, like everything else in this room.

  “That’s personal,” he says, still too fearful to venture near me.

  I slide the box back, and look at the clothes rail. Garments hang, seven of them. Silks, laces, and satins, in white, cream, and black. I take out one of the beige suede coat hangers. It’s beautiful. A white silk and lace mini nightdress, with a ribbon corset back.

  Wow. This room. It’s sending sultry shivers up my legs, into my darkest areas. In fact, it’s making me want him more than ever. I never in a million years thought I’d want to use such a room. But now, my skin’s on fire thinking of him seeing me dressed in this silk and his arousal. I cough and purr.

  “So” I pull out one of the long red pieces of silk. “What’s this for?”

  His avid gaze is intense and fraught. “For your eyes.”

  “So I don’t see you.” I run the silk through the palm of my hand. “Why?”

  He finally takes a step closer, but it’s still too far away. “It’s believed that with one sense covered, the others heighten.” He wets his bottom lip.

  “Hmm.” Please continue Adrien.

  “When I kiss your skin, you will feel it three fold.” His eyes are now activating that scenario directly on me. “When I stroke your hair, face, lips, your body will,” he exhales. “Move and experience an unearthly journey while in darkness.” He steps nearer. “Your hands will be bound, so all your roused responses will stimulate your hips. And you must trust me to read you, and have no influence over the experience at all.”

  Oh my-my-my. I want that journey. He needs to take me there.

  “And.” I try not to moan out in premature arousal. “You don’t want this?”

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, agitated. “Tying you up… is well… not necessary.”

  “You won’t hurt me.” I hold out the blindfold nervously.

  I’m most definitely convinced I want this. It is an absolute necessity he does all those things to me. He’s stirred my insides. He’s kindled a neurotic need for it.

  He breathes heavy, coursing his fingers through his hair, sexually stressed by my unyielding will. He charges to me, and his lips meet mine ardently. He sighs, shifting his mouth over my ear to inhale me. I pant, gripping the blindfold tight.

  “You want this… you want me to tie your hands to that bed?” He murmurs moist words. “You want me to do things to your body, without you having the ability to see?” I can’t speak to answer. “Elizabeth,” he whispers. “Say no… please.”

  That’s never going to happen. Not now he’s turned me on like this. He’s going to do all those things to me, he has to. I stare up at him with my top lip pleated over my bottom.

  “I want this,” I gulp.

  I stand back and lust into his eyes. I bend over and unzip my boots to remove them. He watches every move I make, immobile. I undo my zipper and bow over with straight legs, teasing down my jeans, bit by bit. Still his view is glued on my striptease. I feel inspired by this room, no anxiety or shame. I breathe deep, peering down at my blouse. I flick open my buttons, to see my breasts rising needy beneath my white lace bra. My throat has narrowed in the most sensory way, a feeling that will stay until I’ve been satisfied. Deliberately, I lift my head to shake down my hair so it tickles my back. I wait for him.

  He launches to me with hunger and plays with my bottom lip. He stops with an instinctive want, and casts his eyes down my body. His respiration is extreme and cool on my skin. I pull up his shirt as his raging gasps flicker through my hair. I slip my hands beneath onto his firm chest, and gently scour my nails down his abdomen. He twitches at my touch, then tears it over his head. He reaches into the cupboard and takes out the rope, bracing his strong jaw. His hand gently tugs on mine, and he leads me to the bed. He pushes on my shoulders so I sit.

  This is the raciest act I’ve ever been a part of, and I will comply. I’m on the dangerous threshold of falling for this man. I can’t imagine not being with him like this again. Pleasing each other, over and over.

  “Hold out your arms… cross them like this.” With the rope in his hand he demonstrates, one wrist over the other.

  I do as he asks, so the tips of my fingers brush over his soft pubic hair. He wraps the rope around my wrists in a figure of eight movement, as I watch his concrete focus. I draw in my dry lips to dampen them because I feel so hot.

  “Is that too tight?” He tenderly asks.

  I nod, se
xually afflicted and unable to reply.

  He kneels on the bed and moves to my back. I shudder as the red blindfold comes down over my face, and across my eyes. He pulls it over my ears, making sure it’s flat. It’s begun already. His chest and arms brushing against my skin, it makes my pores tingle and my groin throb for him. He ties the silk. I can’t see him now. All I see is red.

  He leaves the bed and stands before me. I know he’s there, not just by sound, but the powerful static that is bombarding between us.

  “Elizabeth,” he says lightly as I bite my cheek. “I’m going to lift you up into my arms and move you, okay?”

  His arm threads beneath my knees, and he places the other around my waist. I’m airborne, with my head in the crevice of his cool chest. I’m going to savour every single moment of this.

  He gently lays me down on the mattress, and bends across my fluttering belly. He hoists my arms high, coursing his hands up to my roped wrists to hook them onto the bed. I have goose-pimples all over my skin, and my ribs are elevating up and down briskly. I’m not scared, no. Being bound by him has made me wet with suspense.

  “Elizabeth,” he breathes. “Calm yourself.”

  His hand sweeps from my chin, down my breast, to the top of my lace panties. I sigh heavily, as my hips float up of their own accord. He scales the lace down my legs, while coating me with slight kisses and lashes with the tip of his tongue. The wetness of his mouth stains me and lingers. He grabs my calf and lifts, so my left knee bends. I feel a faint scratch at the back of my thigh as he uses his hand to caress my wet opening circularly. I wriggle and purr out. I can’t help it. It’s true what he said. This really is something else. As I lay in red, his touch is all over me.

  “You taste so damn sweet,” he hums. “Mine… all mine.”

  Jeez. I’m trying to hang on here. Let’s keep dirty talk to a minimum please.

  He laps and licks my quivering body. I’m so weak and ready for him. I call his name, as he continues to tongue my thigh like a mad man.

  “Elizabeth… you need to stop yelling at me.”

  I chomp hard on my cheek. It’s hard to be quiet when he’s turning me inside out with this damning, but perfect sex act. Shit. I never thought it would be this difficult.

  He places my leg on the bed, and my hips drift up. I feel his teeth as he seductively kisses my permeable opening. After each kiss, his tongue flicks, causing me to convulse irrepressibly as though I’m being hit by a thousand vaults.

  “God Adrien,” I wail. “I need you.”

  He journeys up my skin, drawing down my bra to uncover my nipple. He toys with it then moves up. His flawless velvet skin weighs down carefully over me. My pulse drops beat after beat as I try to catch a breath. He nips and sucks my clammy neck riotously. I feel him, how hard he is as he presses upon me. Hell, he’s so ready. I exhale loud with a needy moan.

  “Please unhook me.” I need to touch his face; I’m losing my mind here.

  “Only if you keep the blindfold on.” He nuzzles my nose as I agree to his demand.

  He unhooks me and I wiggle my fingertips urgently until he sweeps his lips across them. His head goes through my open constraint arms, and I rest them on his strong bare shoulders.

  He goes back to my neck, tasting and kissing. His erection is rubbing against my pounding slit, and I’m now desperate. I position my hips so he moves into me, rotating my waist for easy entry. He growls and dives deep inside.

  “Oh god!”

  My whole being ruptures into chaos as hot juice floods out of me. He’s giving me everything, and doing it hard. He pounds and pounds in me as I howl to the heavens above. My legs coil further up his body as he takes me even higher. Holy shit!

  He thrusts into my stream, and we come both come together. I dig my toes into the mattress, pulling his hair as I let everything go. He flags on my shoulder as I breathe wildly.

  “Adrien… I’m falling for you,” I sigh.

  He stops breathing. There’s no sense, no sound, or movement. Suddenly, he draws away, shuffling from my arms and down my body.

  Shit. I told him how I feel and he doesn’t like it. I’m not going to get emotional here. Please don’t cry. Please, do not cry.

  “Adrien?” He’s leaving me. I can hear him running down the damn stairs.

  I sit up and use my thumbs to remove the blindfold. How fucking ignorant. I wasn’t asking him to marry me. I thought what we did just now, was some kind of epic memory we’d both share forever. He’s made me feel this way. God, I’m such an idiot.

  I shift to the end of the mattress and pull the end of the rope with my teeth to untie myself. I pick my panties up from the floor, and see a drop of blood. Oh, you have got to be kidding me. I bet that’s why he ran. I’m not due for another two week. Thank you mother nature for completely screwing up my night.

  On route to the stairs, I retrieve my shirt from the floor. I make quick-time, hoping I don’t make a mess everywhere. I enter his room cautiously, just in-case he’s there. He’s not, so I hurry and shut myself in the bathroom.

  I don’t get it. No sign of blood. Nothing. I button up my shirt and look at my reflection, hunched over the sink. It’s no good, I can’t hold them in. Tears begin to fall from my eyes.

  What was it I did that was so bad? Not perform in the way he fantasised. Tell him my feelings. Be too damn open with him. He must not have the same idea about this as me. Clearly he wants this to be some amicable, easy fuck thing. Cate did warn me.

  I sniff the flow of fluid running from my nose, and rip off some toilet tissue. While dabbing my face, I level out my tousled hair, then apprehensively make my way to the stairs.

  It’s so dark down here. Not one light on. I feel my way to the light switch by the front door, flicking them all on.

  He’s arched over the kitchen island with his shirt open. He knows I’m here, there’s a spotlight shining directly above his head, but he won’t look at me. It’s impossible right now not to be overemotional. But I have to be direct with him. I need to know where I stand.

  I nervously move closer, pulling down the bottom of my shirt because I now feel so exposed near him. I vigilantly place my hand on his back.

  “Do you… well, will you say something?”

  He turns sharp. I’ve never seen this look before. Angry streaks around his eyes. His pupils almost black, bottomless, and full of scorn. And his face, its sheet white with a dark rouge over his cheekbones only. I quickly take my hand away and step back.

  “Do you feel okay?” He’s still glaring, and now panting vigorously. “Adrien!”

  His head drops down as his torso expands and deflates great lungful’s of air. Then strangely he calms to a dead silence.

  “Adrien, did I do something wrong up there?” I remain still, keeping a safe distance between us.

  “No Elizabeth,” his voice is deep and intimidating.

  “Sure doesn’t feel that way to me,” I utter.

  He slants his head. I see he’s cooled off a little. He stares, and it flares a lump to form in my neck. I will not cry. I won’t do it, be weak in front of him. I inhale, swallow, and take a step nearer, but he holds out his hand to stop me. He doesn’t want me anywhere near him.

  “Please… don’t.” His eyes pain.

  “Is this because of the room?” I gulp, plucking up the courage to get him to open up to me. “Are you embarrassed… was it something I didn’t do right… what?” My voice strains with upset. “I’m open-minded; are you forgetting what I told you about my mum?”

  “The tonic… you took it?”

  Okay, what sort of a question is that? I didn’t fall asleep on him. In fact, the whole experience woke me inside and out.

  “Well?” He snaps at me.

  I drank it before we left the house. I didn’t want to, but did it because he was being so insistent.

  My mouth opens and I silence, watching his fingertips grasp the granite worktop. He’s not making any sense to me. Is the tonic some kind of
viagra, and the orgasm I had with him just wasn’t as powerful as he anticipated?

  “Why is that relevant… what’s in that stuff?”

  “Did you take it?” He voices in an irritable manner.

  “Shit… yes I drank it! You need to talk to me, Adrien.”

  He growls and walks to the narrow edge of the island, creating more distance between us. He hesitates, while I linger in wounded confusion.

  “You did everything right, Elizabeth.” His features soften. “I have the problem.” He smirks with self-loathing. “You’re intoxicating, and I’m a dangerous addict.”

  “Please, explain it to me?” I say quietly.

  “Going into that room was a mistake. Shit, maybe all this is. You’re doing something to me, something that’s fucking with my head.”

  I snap my teeth together, tight. My eyes sting and vision blurs. Why is he being such a dick with me?

  “You’re too good, for me,” he exhales, hanging his head. “To good for that room… I can’t give you what you want.”

  I feel so hot. My heart is booming hard against my ribs, and I can’t stop flexing my knees. This isn’t like the reaction he usually causes within me. This is fury like I’ve never felt before.

  “Bullshit… you’re giving me the excuse all guys do when they freak-out because a woman has displayed a bit of emotion.” I begin to shake; I’m such a frigging mess. “I don’t want to marry you, live with you, or picture a future of us with kids. I never wanted to take you away from your bachelor businessman status. I enjoy the sex if you must know.” I catch my breath, watching his face harden in shock.

  “Elizabeth,” he murmurs.

  “It’s Liz!”

  A tear escapes down my cheek. I turn my back to him so he doesn’t see it, and hear his bare feet approach. He gently holds my bicep, but I yank it back. He can’t sweet-talk his way out of this. He’s really hurt me.

  “Liz.” I close my eyes because his voice sounds almost pleading. “Sorry. I’m not myself. I’m sick and need to rest.”

  I peer up into his slight eyes. “Fine.”