Songbird

by A. J. Adams

  He was laughing. “I’ll keep going, but you have to do your part.” He pressed something smooth, thin and hard against my forehead and leaned me against the wall. “Keep the coin against the wall. If it falls, I stop.” His lips were against my ear. “Don’t move, sirena. If you do, I’ll walk away and leave you.”

  Now I was sweating, standing on tiptoe, straining to keep that coin in place, dying to feel the thud of the flogger, terrified he’d carry out his threat and leave me suspended on the cusp of release.

  There was a pause and a whisper of silk. He was undressing, I could hear his clothes dropping to the floor. At the thought of what was to come next, I was quivering. Then the flogger swept through the air, landing with a thud across my shoulders again. A second thud landed on my arse, a few tails slinking down the insides of my thighs, teasingly close to my creaming centre. I yearned to lean into the next blow, but the coin held me in place. I knew I mustn’t move. I didn’t want this to stop.

  “Brace yourself.”

  The blows landed faster and faster, fanning the blaze across my body. He was working me over mercilessly now, the tails spreading over my body, each time curling between my legs, tipping me from delight to ecstasy. I could hear my wails echo around the room. I was shimmering and shuddering uncontrollably.

  I’d forgotten the coin. All my concentration was focussed on the continuous thud of the flogger. It wasn’t enough to push me into release. It held me trembling on the edge, hovering on the rim of exquisite release. I was going nowhere without his touch, and he knew it. I could hear him laugh as I moaned and begged.

  Finally, driven to despair, I lifted my head, crying for him to finish me. All at once he was behind me, his skin cool against my burning back. He was whispering in my ear, telling me how much he wanted me. The bonds held me in place, frustrating my efforts to get him inside me. While I keened with complaint and desire, I heard his laughter turned to gasping want.

  He pushed his cock between my legs, rubbing it against my drenched flesh, teasing me until I was screaming. “Say please, sirena.”

  “Pleeeeeeeeease!”

  He wrapped his arms around me, lifting me slightly and then he was sliding into me. The feel of that hard hotness had me shimmering around his rigid flesh. His hands rubbed over my nipples, tugging, teasing and then slipped to my clit. A touch and I was screaming as the ripples of ecstasy flooded through me, augmented by the sound of his gasping breath in my ear and his iron hold on my body as he fucked me.

  I hung there, supine, drowning in the sensation of his skin against mine, his scent surrounding me, and that pulsing cock slamming in and out of me. The motion had me gasping, and then I was quivering again, roiling back to the edge of orgasm. His breath was ragged now, his skin lava-hot as he once again drove me to the peak. He exploded inside me, the violence of his thrusts causing a final orgasm to rip through me.

  “Amor de mi vida!” He was holding me tight, shuddering against me, stroking my hair and kissing my neck. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. I was shattered, boneless. I could feel my forehead leaning against the wall but the rest of my body had vanished, evaporated in sated want.

  I felt him holding me as the restraints clicked open, and then I was in his arms, being carried. There were soft sheets and low lights. I lay in the circle of his body, feeling as if I was sinking into him.

  “Sirena, my sweet slut.” He was kissing me, running his hands over me and telling me how wonderful I was. I wanted more; I wanted kisses. The second I lifted my face, his lips were locked on mine. I melted again.

  A million years later, he smoothed the blindfold away from my eyes. For once his in-control look had vanished. Arturo looked hot, sticky and sweaty, and he was grinning like a maniac.

  “Sweet sirena. Angel, darling. Chiquitína.”

  His words flowed over me like honey, curling round me sweetly, bathing me in love.

  We lay there forever, waiting for the universe to fall into place again. It was peaceful down in the dungeon. The utter silence and the low lights made the place timeless. As I lay there, cocooned in comfortable warmth, my brain began churning again, and I knew I’d made a mistake.

  Just a short time ago I was sitting in that rose garden, convinced that I was up shit creek. No family, no friends and no future. I’d been kicking myself for thinking that Arturo was the man for me. I was also frightened of what he’d do to me if I kept raging at him.

  Back in London and in the plane I’d been so mad that I hadn’t cared, but sitting in his home, surrounded by opulence, I knew I had to be careful. Arturo hadn’t said a word, but I knew he wouldn’t put up with me giving him shit forever. He couldn’t. A cartel boss has to maintain respect, and you can’t do that when you’ve got a girl ragging you mercilessly in public.

  I knew I had to make my peace with him, move on or both. The thing is that I have a temper. I was telling myself to keep cool, but when he sat next to me the rage flooded through me again. It gave me a hell of a surprise when he said I was the best thing that had happened to him.

  You know, for a moment I actually believed him? I really did. Then, while he was talking about how good we were together, I realised that Arturo was not in love but in lust. He talked of my body but he didn’t know me. Hell, I didn’t know me! He was physically infatuated because we shared a kink.

  I sat there and wondered what I really wanted. Looking at him telling me how he’d fallen for me as I danced for him, I knew I liked him still, despite everything that had happened, but I wasn’t sure I could trust him.

  Arturo wanted me, loved fucking me, but his heart was with his family. Everything Arturo did was for them: from the shopping to the way he took out his enemies, it was all geared to keeping them safe. It was a quality I loved about him, and I’d naively hoped that he would extend that to me, but as he talked, Arturo made it clear he wasn’t asking me to be his wife or even his girlfriend. What he talked about was having a sex partner.

  He’d been open to trying for a relationship but crucially, he’d hesitated about giving me an equal partnership. He’d even been cautious about trusting me to go out and about without asking him for permission first. It all argued that while Arturo talked of love, he really meant lust.

  Although it hurt, I appreciated Arturo’s honesty. He’d laid out exactly what he loved about me: looks, sex and attitude. He told me he thought of me as a cut above the women he’d had before, but for all his talk of love, it wasn’t exactly a statement that he’d found his soul mate.

  So I knew Arturo liked me, that he would be generous and would give me a fantastic sex life, but I didn’t hear him say that I was the love of his life. Or that he wanted me forever. I discounted the possessiveness; that was just the cartel man speaking. Men like Arturo have to own their pussy; it’s just part of the image.

  The thing is, I wanted more. I knew I really could have fallen for Arturo in a big way because he was the complete package: brains, loyalty, generosity, power and a way of turning my knees to jelly with a single look.

  The sensible thing would be to ask him to let me move on. Being around him and knowing I couldn’t have him and seeing him with his family, reminding me of all that I’d lost, would hurt too much. And when he fell out of lust, I’d be alone again. I knew it was stupid to leave myself open to that kind of pain. I should run, go somewhere safe. And that was the problem: I had nowhere to go.

  I learned something about myself at that moment: I am very sensible. I wanted to cry, I wanted to beat his chest and beg him to love me forever, but I put aside my hurt, ignored my yearning and concentrated on securing my future.

  Practicality is probably not a lovable trait. The blond arsehole in the pub had said I was a cold bitch, Danjuma had called me a frosty bitch, McClutsky had said I was an ice-cold bitch. They were probably right, but when you’re on your own, there’s no point in wallowing in emotion and getting into ever deeper shit when a bit of sense can give you security.

  So I told my heart to shut t
he fuck up, and while Arturo was willing to be generous, I negotiated the best deal I could get. I got a good package: respect, a certain independence and a show of equality. I knew Arturo would stick to the deal, too. He made it clear that he was bored with whores, so we’d have something different.

  I was sensible, so I decided I’d keep my eyes peeled for a job opportunity. Once I found something with a future, I’d ask Arturo to help me chart a career path. He’d shown me that he had a generous heart, and he was all for empowering women, so I didn’t anticipate a problem there. Arturo might even be relieved, knowing that giving me a chance to be independent meant he wouldn’t have to pension me off when he wanted a change.

  I told myself all of this, and I tried shutting down my heart and thinking only of physical pleasure, but oh my God, when he tied me to the cross all that sense dissolved, and he slipped into my soul.

  I lived and died for him, burned for him, cried for him, and then he took me out of myself and into paradise. Afterwards I couldn’t bear to let him go. I lay curled up in his arms, and I told myself sternly not to fall in love with this man. Like, yes, friendship, definitely, loyalty, certainly. But not love. That would be the way to heartbreak. But I knew it was too late. I’d given him my heart.

  Arturo stroked the hair off my face and looked into my eyes. “All right, sirena?”

  “Yes.” I said yes, but part of me wanted to cry. I knew I couldn’t live with him as a kind of a deal. But what’s the point of whining for what you can’t have? Except that I looked into those warm eyes, and I saw affection there. Real warm affection. It gave me courage, that look. I wanted to talk to him, but I couldn’t find the words.

  Arturo dipped his head, kissing me. He was smiling. “We’ve got twenty-four hours before the family descends on us,” he said. “Let’s make the most of it.”

  That didn’t sound good. “They won’t like me?” If they didn’t, Arturo would be hurt, and I didn’t like that idea.

  He was silent for a moment. “Loli and Julia won’t. They’re my sisters. But they’ll get over it. Just be patient with them, okay? They’re a bit spoilt.” He kissed me again. “I was thinking about what you said earlier.”

  “Oh?”

  “I know I agreed to everything you asked for, but my balls were doing a lot of my thinking,” Arturo said quietly. “I don’t think this is going to work the way you thought.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that, either.

  He stopped me from speaking by putting a finger gently on my lips. “About your coming and going when you like, I said yes, but it won’t work.”

  That hurt. “You don’t trust me?”

  “I do trust you! Listen a minute, sirena. I want you to be happy, but if you run around by yourself, it’s just too dangerous.” Arturo was looking serious. “You offered me a deal, Solitaire. I took it because I want you. I’ll do my best about everything else, but I need to know where you are, always. And so do my people.”

  “I can live with that. I just meant you have to trust me.”

  “I do,” Arturo said. “But I don’t think you understood what you’ll have to sacrifice if you stay with me.”

  “Sacrifice?”

  “When people realise you’re not just a part-time girl, you’ll become a target. You’re going to have to live with the same kind of security I do. That means armoured cars, outriders, bodyguards, the works.” Arturo looked grave. “And that’s just the start of it, Solitaire. Living with me means giving up all sorts of freedoms that you’ve taken for granted. Going dancing, taking walks, hanging in the mall – all that will still be possible, but you won’t be able to just get up and go. Even with a detail, there are checks that have to be made before you leave. And while you’re out, someone will be tracking you. I’ve got GPS in my car, in my phone, and I have a chip hidden in my watch, too. You’ll have the same. Even then there will be times when you’ll be in lockdown, because it will be too dangerous to go out.”

  He was telling me about his life.

  “Solitaire, I can give you things, but you don’t care about jewellery and cars. I need you to understand what you’re getting into. Knowing what it means, do you think you could be happy with me?”

  I just looked at him, breathless at his honesty. He was talking about letting me into his life. It’s what I yearned for, but there would be a price. Was I ready for this? Was it what I wanted?

  “I’ll understand if you want to rethink this, Solitaire,” Arturo said. “I don’t want you taking a step you regret. And if you want to go, you can. I won’t hold you back.”

  He was offering me freedom.

  “I’ll give you some money, and I can get you a job,” Arturo said. “Or I’ll pay for a college course if you want. You wouldn’t be starting from nothing. And you could always ask for my help.”

  I was stunned. Speechless. I suddenly realised I was staring at him with my mouth wide open.

  “Sirena,” Arturo was looking seriously worried. “Are you okay?”

  “No,” I said slowly. “I’m not.” And then I burst into tears.

  So much for being sensible and cold-hearted, right?

  Chapter Thirteen: Arturo

  Who would have thought it? Whoever said honesty is the best policy got it right on the button. I could have let Solitaire walk into my life and let her discover what it involved, knowing by then it would be too late, but I played it straight. I thought for a horrible moment that she’d walk, and when she burst into tears I was certain of it.

  Just as I felt my heart begin to break she flung her arms around me. “Oh God, yes please, Arturo! I want to stay!”

  That’s when she told me she thought I was just infatuated with her.

  “You need your head examined as well as your ears,” I told her. “For God’s sake, Solitaire! I told you I want you forever.”

  “I thought you were just being romantic. When I said I wanted to be your girl, like a normal relationship, you hesitated so long that I thought it was just your dick talking. I thought you weren’t that into me.”

  I was practically speechless. “Not that into you? I’m the world’s most cautious man, and yet I let you walk away from the manor, I didn’t suspect you when you ran off to that church, I didn’t care that you could have walked away any time when we were out clubbing, and I let you sit in on meetings, even after you told me you would spy on me!” Then, out of fairness, I added, “I was an asshole over the debrief but –”

  Solitaire put a finger on my lips. “That’s forgotten.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” She curled herself into my body. “I tried not to fall for you, Arturo, but I couldn’t help it.” She rubbed her cheek against mine. “After we bonked that first time, I felt like I’d come home.”

  “Sirena.” I didn’t know what to say. Words just didn’t cover it. I crushed her to me. “I’m never letting you go.”

  “Good.”

  We lay there, just being happy. I stroked her hair, kissed her neck, and pretty soon I couldn’t wait to have her again. This time I just curled myself around her and fucked her slowly. She was red hot and creamy, melting all over my cock and peaking with gasping moans.

  I ended up wrapping myself around her. She was hot, sweaty, half-conscious, and I never wanted to let her go. I brushed the hair off her face and felt a rush of possessiveness flood through me. “You’re all mine,” I whispered.

  “Nashwf.”

  I love post-orgasmic Solitaire. All that self-possession melts away, leaving a soft slushy sweetheart. I held her tightly, feeling on top of the world. I’d been blown away when fucking Solitaire in London, but this was in a different league. She was fantastic, the best I’d ever had, bar none.

  Solitaire hadn’t known if she’d played games before, but I knew the second I’d secured her to the cross that she hadn’t. You see, Solitaire didn’t know consciously where she’d been or what she’d done, but the body remembers. I knew by the awkward way she moved when I put her up that t
his was totally new for her. The knowledge almost made me explode on the spot. She’d joked about being a virgin, and in a way she was. When I had her on the cross, all spread out for me, I was turned on as hell, but at the same time, I wanted to take care of her.

  For once I thought with my head instead of my dick. Solitaire was totally in the zone, flushed and breathing all ragged, but she’d been through hell, courtesy of me mostly, and I know how fast scary-fun can turn into scary-nasty, so I took it slow.

  It was the best decision I’d ever made. Solitaire started off enjoying herself, and as I racked it up notch by notch, she went from excitement to ecstasy. I drew it out, putting the coin into the game and intending to tease her by holding off when it fell to the floor. Instead, she ended up testing both of us. By the time she lifted her head, my balls were so blue that I could have been a Yale man. Sliding into her hot tight depths was like sliding into heaven. I had to recite the top twenty international stock exchanges in the world as I pumped into her. I didn’t make it; I blew at Moscow’s MICEX-RTS.

  It was the best fuck ever, except for the one we had after, and the one in London after she’d danced for me. I knew from now on every time I touched her would be magical, and as I lay on the bed with her, I vowed I would make her happy.

  I looked at the black hair fanning out over her shoulders and then looked up at the mirror on the ceiling. When you’ve been flogged, heat prevents bruising. Solitaire’s back was red but not excessively so, and I thought it unlikely she would suffer, but it’s better safe than sorry. Also, she might be dehydrated. I was edging my way out of bed, intending to get her a hot water bottle when Solitaire threw her arms around me.

  “Don’t go,” she murmured in my ear. “Don’t leave me.”

  As I said, post-bliss Solitaire is complete mush. “I’m just getting you some heat for your back and a cold drink.”

  “Stay.”

  I stayed. I lay there, saying absolutely nothing and feeling fucking fantastic.

  We must have lain there for an hour when Solitaire finally stirred. “Arturo,” her blue eyes were looking deep into mine. “I’ve got this hollow feeling.”