by Shelly Bell
“So you’d never let me top you one night? Allow me to tie you up?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to take them back.
They both knew there would never be another night.
“If it was something that excited you, sure, I’d let you tie me up,” he said calmly. “I might even let you think you’re topping me, but in truth, I’d still be dominating you. Right now, you’ve got me blindfolded. Do you feel as though you’re the one in control?”
“No.” She laid a hand on his cheek. “I can’t explain it, but when I’m with you, I don’t want to be in control. I know I’m safe to let go and trust you to take care of me. I answer to no one else but you. But right now, this is about showing you there’s more to sex than sight. Please let me continue, Master.”
“Of course. Besides, I’m curious what else you have for me to taste.”
“Nothing but the best for you.” She cupped a crostini with caviar in her hand and held it under his nose. “What do you smell?”
He inhaled. “The ocean. It’s caviar.”
“Very good.” She rubbed it up against his lips. “Now take a bite and describe the taste to me.”
He sampled the appetizer and chewed. “A bit salty like the sea.”
She poured the fizzy liquid from the other bottle into a glass and brought it to his mouth. “Now take a sip of this.”
His hand wrapped around the glass and sampled the bubbly liquid. “Champagne. The good stuff. I’d recognize Dom Perignon anywhere.”
She unwrapped a square of chocolate and waved it under his nose. “Can you smell this?” She slipped it onto her tongue and sealed her mouth with his, letting the creamy chocolate melt from the heat of their kiss.
He hooked his arm around her waist and tugged her into his side. “I know what you’re trying to impart to me. That when I go blind, I’ll still find pleasure through my other senses. And you’re right.” He slid his hand up the inside of her trembling thigh and delved his fingers between her swollen folds, thrusting them inside her. “There’s nothing I enjoy more than the slick, hot feel of your tight pussy. Or the wet sucking sound of it as I move my fingers or my cock inside it.” She whimpered when he brought his drenched fingers to his nose and inhaled. “The sweet scent of your arousal.” On a moan, his tongue laved a path down one finger and up the other. “The spicy, addictive taste of you. Nothing more I enjoy . . . ” He ripped off his blindfold, his brown eyes somber. “Except the sight of you.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“ARE YOU READY for my surprise?” Cole asked as he took her hand. At her nod, Cole led her out of the kitchen and up the staircase to the fantasy rooms.
Danielle choked down her disappointment. What had she expected? That Cole would instantly change his mind and fall to his knees with a marriage proposal? He’d made his choice not to marry years ago. It would take more than a few minutes for him to process that he could still experience sexual fulfillment without his sight.
When they got to the top of the stairs, Cole opened a door and guided her into a hallway with a window on the left side that gave them a view of a trio of women making love on a bed. Chairs for viewing were set up along the wall on their right. At the end of the hall, they came to another door, and going through it, she looked into this window, observing a man dressed up as a vampire fucking the ass of a man dressed as a werewolf. Continuing into the next hallway, they stopped in front of a room that had the shades drawn.
Cole pushed open the door, and she stepped inside. The room was like something out of a historical romance. Candles flickered, and the smell of incense filled in the air. Square pillows made from foreign fabrics in royal purple and gold covered the floor. Netting hung down from the ceiling like a ceremonial veil. The room looked endless, and that’s when she realized the walls were lined with mirrors.
Cole swept his fingers down the length of her neck and across her collarbone. “I want to make love to you here. I want you to see every facet of me so you know there’s not a part of me that doesn’t love every part of you. I didn’t used to believe in love at first sight, but it was as if something inside me woke up when I caught you looking at me from the stairs of your house. I hadn’t known what to call it back then, but now I think it was love—or at least the realization I would love you one day.”
A warmth filled her chest. He’d felt the same connection as she had all those years ago. He loved her, and she loved him. Why couldn’t that be enough for her?
She ventured farther into the room and caressed the gauzy netting. “I would have thought a mirror room would look more like one of those rooms in a funhouse, but this . . . I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”
He moved in behind her, surrounding her with his heat, his steely erection prodding her backside. “I have. Every time I look at you.”
She glanced over at the covered window. “I’m frightened.”
“Of what?” He captured her chin between his thumb and finger and tipped up her head, stealing her ability to look away. “Of me?”
A shiver ran down the length of her spine, hardening her nipples. “Of how much I want this.” She’d bared herself in front of the members when Adrian and Logan had tied her up, but that time, she’d been blindfolded.
Cole and Danielle breathed in sync, as if they were one, their chests rising and falling together.
“What is your safe word?” he whispered in her ear, his dark and delicious voice sending tingles straight to her clitoris.
She turned in his arms. “Red, Master.”
He hissed through his teeth, and his pupils dilated, his body jerking as if the word Master had taken physical form. “When the music begins, you will strip. Slowly. Seductively. Dance and move your body as though a thousand hands are touching you.” He jutted his chin toward the window. “Tease those men and women out there with what they cannot have. What they cannot touch. Show them how drenched your pussy gets knowing they can see you. And when the moment is right, your Master will fuck you so hard and so good, they’ll hear your screaming in the dungeon.”
Her vaginal muscles clenched, and arousal spread to her outer folds, her pussy preparing to be filled. She felt weightless, as if she was floating a foot off the floor, and her body buzzed with need from the awareness of those who waited behind the covered window. She couldn’t see them yet, but she sensed their anticipation like a beacon in the sky on a starless night.
“Will you do something for me? Wear the blindfold as I dance. Imagine me dancing for you. My hands on my breasts. My pussy drenched with my arousal. Can you do that for me? Please?”
“Yes. As long as you include some vocals for me. We’ll hear you in the hall through an audio feed.” Cole seized her lips, staking his ownership of her. Without warning, he tore himself away and strode out of the room, leaving her panting and desperate for release.
The door closed, and the window blinds began to rise, giving her glimpses of the crowd that had gathered in the hallway. They were shadows, outlines of people without defining characteristics—only eyes—while she was in the spotlight, no longer hiding her true self.
Soft music began to play, a familiar song about sex and desire. The rush of her pulse roared so loudly in her ears that she could barely distinguish the beat of the music from her own heart.
She moaned and sighed as she ran her hands down her sides and swiveled her hips in a seductive imitation of sex. Heat built in her pussy as she caught the flames of desire in her audience’s eyes. She dragged her corset down until it lay on the floor, baring her breasts to the eager voyeurs. Cole’s words played in her head, a whisper of instructions she had no choice but to obey. She pinched her nipples and massaged her generous breasts, and it was as if there were a dozen other hands on them in addition to her own.
Five minutes. Ten minutes. There was no measure of time.
Her body was on fire.
She dipped her hands into her panties and rubbed her finger over her clitoris. “Oh, Master. My pussy
is soaking wet, and my clit is swollen. It feels so good to touch it, but my fingers aren’t enough.”
The crowd wanted more. They wanted to see. So she tugged the drenched fabric down her legs and gave it to them.
Power swept through her, emboldening her, and it was being fed by the slack-jawed response of her audience at her naked body. Her legs trembled, and she wobbled on her Prada heels.
She lowered herself to the floor and crawled to the center of the room, catching sight of herself in the mirrors all around her. Her breasts hung heavy, and the muscles in her ass flexed as she moved on her hands and knees.
What did they see when they looked at her?
She settled on the pillows and spread her thighs wide, her greedy fingers instantly going between her legs. Her eyes sought Cole. “I’ve pushed three of my fingers inside my pussy, and I’m stroking the pearl of my clit with my thumb while my other hand is pinching my nipple hard, just the way I like it. I’m fucking myself, Master, but it’s not enough. I need your cock.”
New sounds entered the room, quiet moans and smacking noises, telling her she wasn’t the only one masturbating. Cole had turned on the audio so she could hear the observers out in the hall. Now the exhibitionist was also the voyeur, both roles feeding off each other and driving her arousal even higher.
But only one person really mattered. Was her dirty talk arousing him? Could he visualize what she was doing to herself? Was he touching himself right now?
Her muscles tightened and her body shook, the fire in her core burning out of control. “I’m coming, Master. I’m coming.” Heat gathered in her pussy, burning hotter and hotter until she exploded and the heat rushed through her, leaving no part untouched.
A door slammed, footsteps stomped across the floor, and then Cole was there, the blindfold in his hands. He stood over her, ripping off his clothes.
Naked before her and those who remained in the hallway, he motioned to the mirrors. “I get it. I didn’t need to see you to visualize what you looked like as you fucked yourself to an orgasm. Lesson learned. But now I want you to watch me claim you.”
“No.” She got to her knees, leveling her mouth with his cock. “First I want you to watch me claim you.”
He jolted as her tongue swirled around the head of his cock, exploring the sensitive underside. She licked her way down to his heavy testicles, then back up to the tip, where a drop of pre-come awaited her. Squeezing and jacking him with a firm grip, she lapped up the tangy essence before sucking the head of his cock into her mouth.
When he groaned and pushed his cock deeper into her mouth, she took it as a sign she was doing something right. He cupped the back of her head, his fingers winding into her hair, but he didn’t force himself any further or control her speed.
The taste of him, a mix of salt and musk, drove her wild. Made her pussy ache for him. A buoyancy filled her at the idea of pleasing him. Making him insane with pleasure and making him come.
His hand tightened on her head, and suddenly he wrenched away.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked.
“If you had kept up much longer, I would’ve come in your mouth.”
She smiled. “That was the general idea of me giving you a blow job.”
His hands went to her shoulders, his fingers possessively digging into her flesh. “I want my cock inside your pussy. I want to feel your heat. Your wet, velvety flesh as I drive myself in you over and over again. I want to feel you ripple around me as you climax.”
He moved behind her and kneeled on the pillows, facing her toward the audience. She looked at the mirrors.
Six Coles wrapped their dark tattooed arms around the pale skin of her middle.
Six Coles notched their cocks to Danielle’s slippery entrance and sank their rigid lengths into her.
Six Coles arched their necks and palmed her breast. “Fuck. Never felt so good.”
Each Cole commanded her body as if it belonged to him, dominance and control in every thrust.
He pulled at her nipples until she tore her gaze from the mirrors and cried out his name. “Every time I think it can’t get better, it does. You undo me, Danielle.”
Her thighs burned, and sweat trickled between her breasts. Hunger showed on each of the voyeur’s faces, moans and sobs spilling from their lips. Hunger for her. Hunger for release. Cole swept his hand to her clitoris, and she watched as his nimble fingers worked her. An electric current shot down her spine, zinging to her fingers and her toes. It was too much, the mirrors and the candles and the eyes dizzying, overpowering her ability to believe she was anything less than beautiful.
“I’m going to come,” she said breathlessly, unsure whether she was supposed to ask for permission.
He bit her neck in response, and the pleasurable pain of it sent her careening into a full-body climax, her muscles turning liquid and hot as her core pulsed and throbbed. Seconds later, Cole joined her, his own body still except for the twitch of his cock as it released inside of her.
She didn’t know how, but as if right on cue, the blinds lowered over the window and the audio feed quieted, so that the only sound in the room was their panting. They collapsed onto the pillows, and he kissed her tenderly, leisurely, as if they had all the time in the world.
But time was not on their side.
He pulled back, that knowledge mirrored in his eyes. Tomorrow morning, she’d be on a plane back to Arizona.
Cole planted a trail of kisses down her spine, and she felt herself responding, her body softening and moistening as if it hadn’t just climaxed. She peered over her shoulder, viewing the erotic sight of it in the mirrors, and she sighed.
She loved the strong, confident man Cole was, but she was greedy. It wasn’t enough that he loved every part of her. Until he could accept all the parts of himself, he’d never truly belong to her.
And she wouldn’t settle for anything less.
He didn’t have to say it.
Tonight had changed nothing.
Here in this room, they’d made love one final time.
This night was their good-bye.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Two Months Later
DANIELLE STARED OUT her bedroom window at the surrounding mountains and desert landscape, wondering how she’d ever thought she could have a different life.
Two months had gone by without a single word from Cole. He’d not only let her leave Michigan, he’d provided her and Tasha with his private jet to take them back to Arizona. Up until the plane had lifted off into the air, she’d held some hope he would change his mind and beg her to stay in Michigan with him.
The minute the plane touched down in Phoenix, she’d started to cry. After receiving word about his mother’s kidnapping, Roman had flown back from Russia. He’d been Danielle’s rock, listening to her vent and holding her when she cried. It would have made it so much easier if she’d been angry at Cole or hated him, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.
Unsurprisingly, she had lost her job at the art museum. Barely sleeping, she found herself having trouble getting out of bed in the morning. Her appetite diminished, and she started losing weight without trying. When she did eat, she’d sometimes get sick right after. For weeks she’d thought her symptoms would improve once she adjusted to life without Cole.
If only it had been that simple.
After closing the shades, she dropped back into bed and drew the covers over her, her gaze falling on the original Degas paintings on the wall. They’d arrived a week after she’d moved back to Arizona, delivered by special courier. No note.
She’d started to drift off when a knock fell on her door. It creaked open. “Can I come in?”
Roman.
She wiped her eyes and sat up, resting her back against the headboard. “Of course.”
He settled beside her, stretching his legs out and sliding his arm around her back. “I’m worried about you. Since you came back from Michigan, you haven’t been yourself.”
She playe
d with a thread of her blanket, her chest tight with tension. “What do you mean? I’m doing what I always did. I read. Lay by the pool. Rinse and repeat.”
“I’m talking about the fact that you barely eat anything. You have no energy. And you never smile.” His expression grew serious. “I think maybe you should see a doctor. You went through a traumatic event. It’s normal to suffer some effects after something so scary. Not to mention, you’re nursing a broken heart. It’s natural for the physical body to show symptoms of depression.”
She sighed. Of course Roman had noticed. “You want me to see a psychiatrist?”
“It wouldn’t hurt. He could prescribe some medication—”
“I don’t need an antidepressant, Roman.” She looked up at him. “I’m pregnant.”
His jaw dropped. “What?”
That had been her reaction to the doctor’s diagnosis too. She’d chalked up her symptoms to her broken heart until one day she came across her unused pack of birth control pills and remembered she had missed a few while in Michigan. Two store-bought pregnancy tests and a doctor’s appointment later, she finally accepted the truth. “Ten weeks. My gynecologist said the fatigue and nausea should pass in a couple more weeks.”
“Is it DeMarco’s? Or someone—”
“It’s Cole’s. There’s no other possibility.” She hadn’t gone into details with Roman about her time at Benediction because talking about it, thinking about it, was too painful for her. At least now she knew there was more at work than simply a broken heart. The hormones had wreaked major havoc on her emotions as well.
“Have you told him?” Roman stood, his jaw set in anger. “If he thinks he can just turn his back—”
“No. He doesn’t know.” She kicked off the blankets. “And he wouldn’t turn his back on me or the baby, but it’s also not what he wanted. I won’t go into the reasons, but the subject did come up, and he doesn’t want a wife or children.”
Roman paused and ran his fingers through his thick blond hair, seemingly at a loss for words. After a moment, he grew somber. “You’re going to keep it from him?