“Ahh, Sir!”
Colt brought the crop up to my chin and with it, he guided my head lower and closer to him.
“Lower your head…ass in the air…part your legs…good, Leda.” Colt twisted a hand in my hair, grabbing it all of it. “Now suck.”
I lightly flicked my tongue at the underside of his deep red, bulbous, cock head. I kept my tongue flat and moved around his shaft, relishing in the soft flesh that was stretched tight. As I began to massage his ample, smooth sac, I felt the crop between my legs. Colt’s lengthy arm was able to continue with bringing down the crop on my pussy as it rest on the backrest.
“Don’t toy and tease me with these little ‘behind the bleacher blow job tactics,’ Leda. Open your mouth and take my cock down your throat,” Colt gritted out and gave me several punishing swats of the crop that almost made me come.
I worked feverishly on Colt’s cock, nearly gagging as his head bumped against the back of my throat. In my hand, I felt his balls pull upward and knew I was close to making him come. Colt continued to slap my ass and pussy with the crop until he suddenly stopped and his body grew still.
“Fuck, Leda! I’m going to come, and you’re going to swallow all of it.”
I nodded that I understood and within seconds, warm jets of his creamy fluid coated the inside of my mouth. Over his moans, I quickly began devouring his load. There was so much there, I just kept swallowing and licking it off his head. I finally got it all, and his chest stopped heaving.
Colt pulled my head by my hair that was knotted around his hand, and he gazed into my eyes with his heavy lidded eyes.
“Excellent, Leda. Roll over onto your back…bend your knees…part them…now hang onto them.”
I waited to see what was next. I ached so badly and needed to come. Colt slapped my nipple on my right breast and took hold of it, rolling it roughly between his fingers. Then he brought the crop down between my legs. I moved my pelvis upward to get more friction and finally, he rubbed the leather flap over my clit.
“Oohhh, Sir…Sir, may I come?”
Colt had a wide smile on his face and granted me permission.
“Come for me, Leda.”
I let go and moaned out my release. I felt incredible and could have stayed in the position forever. We sat there for a few moments and then he pulled me up. He stood me up under the light and ran his hand gently over my skin where he had flogged and used the crop on me. He applied a special lotion and a Band-Aid over a spot on the back of one of my legs.
After we both had dressed, he ran his thumb over my swollen lips and a cocky smile appeared.
“Beautiful. Your swollen lips tell a tale of your evening, Leda.”
While we waited for his Ferrari at the valet of Seven, he positioned me so my back was to the woods and he started talking to me about what the rest of the week held for our schedules. The one time I began to glance over my shoulder, Colt stopped me.
“Ah, eyes on me. There’s nothing over there you need to be concerned with, Leda.”
I smiled at him and hoped he hadn’t seen the tears in my eyes. He knew I didn’t like the woods, yet he was trying to make me more comfortable around them. I think he kind of cared. Colt wasn’t the monster Wade was making him out to be.
All the way back to the city, Colt either held my hand or held his hand on my leg. When we got back to the restaurant, he waited outside with me while valet brought me my car. He kissed my forehead before I got in and he asked me to text him when I got home. Colt ran his thumb over the bottom of my lip and gave me a warm smile before he closed my car door.
“Leda, I warned you about not finishing.”
I was so tired, and my stomach hurt. I wanted to go home and never come back. Years after I was far too old to play with my dolls, grandpa and I still made our daily trek through the woods.
He angrily pushed away from me before he lunged at me, grabbing my hair and pulling it back, making me cry. I jerked away from him, but he caught me around my upper arm. The look in his eyes was of a madman. He looked as deranged as the monsters in horror flicks do.
“Get a switch, Leda.”
I thought about running. Where would I go, though? It was so secluded out here. And my attempt would only make it worse. I trudged to the nearest tree and pulled off a whispy branch and returned with it.
He held it in his hands as he examined it and pointed for me to take up my usual whipping spot; hugging the downed tree trunk. The pain, in the beginning, was bad and I just clenched my jaw and dealt with it. Even after the branch snapped, he was still angry. He took off his belt to finish punishing me. I could feel the warmth of blood running down the sides of my thighs as I lay pressed against the log.
“Why do you hate me so much?” I muttered out through clenched teeth.
I never heard him answer.
Shit! I bolted up in bed clutching at my tank top and trying to catch my breath. With shaking fingers, I reached for the light beside my bed and turned it on. Just then, Chastity came in and sat down on the bed. She reached out to stroke my hair, but I backed away.
It wasn't her, it was me. It was always me. I couldn't stand to be touched after waking up from these dreams. Chastity realized that I didn't want to be touched and she retracted her hands, setting them in her lap.
“Leeds, sweetie are you okay? Wade and I heard you crying out. How bad was the nightmare?”
I shook my head, hoping she’d take that as confirmation that I didn't want to talk about it. Wade appeared in the doorway and looked in. I wasn't in the mood now to deal with Wade. He eventually came in and sat down behind Chastity on the bed.
“I'm sorry that I woke you guys up. I'm fine, though.”
“Were you dreaming of your grandfather or Colt?” Wade asked.
“Wade,” Chastity said his name and jabbed her elbow back at him.
“Either could be the source of nightmares,” Wade added.
I felt sick to my stomach and mentally drained. I tried forcing the repulsive images of my grandfather from my head and replaced them with the visual of Colt standing with me by the valet at Seven while we waited for his car. It was so sweet of him to try and keep me from focusing on the woods. And now Wade was sitting here, trying to create a problem.
“The nightmare was about my grandfather, Wade. Please stop trying to criminalize Colt.”
“I'm sorry you had a dream about your asshole grandfather, Leeds. But I know you've been spending time with Colt. It's just a matter of time before he gets into your nightmares.”
“Can I be alone, please? I'm sorry I woke you guys up and thank you for coming to check on me. I'm fine and just want to go back to sleep.”
“Ok, Leeds.”
Chastity got off the bed, pulled Wade with her and they left my room. I wanted to throw something at the door as they left. I took a deep breath and leaned against my pillows.
As much as I tried to fight it, I had an overwhelming urge to send Colt a text. I know I'm not his sub, but rather his Initiate. But I still felt a connection to him. I’ve trusted him with things in such a quick amount of time.
I picked up my cell phone and started to type out a text.
Hi, Colt. I know it's late and you're probably asleep. I can't sleep. Well, I was asleep, but woke up from a nightmare, and now I can't sleep.
I stared at it. I can't send him that. Why would he care? I'm just his Initiate. His pawn. His game token that if he gets across the finish line, he gets a tattoo mark. Besides, one of his rules was that I wasn’t to contact him unless in extreme emergencies.
I deleted my text and tossed my phone to the side and thought.
He seems to want to at least be on good terms and build a bond with me. He's taken me to dinner and out for coffee in efforts to try to get to know me. But he hasn't shared much about himself. Though, he's the Dom. He doesn't have to tell me or share anything with me. I'm just a means to his tattoo mark. But, in being that, I'm still important.
I remembered the look
on his face at the valet stand at Seven when I started to look over my shoulder. “Ah, eyes on me. There’s nothing over there you need to be concerned with, Leda.”
I looked at the scar on my wrist. I ran my finger over it as I've done nearly every day since I received it. I recalled pieces of it from my dream and shuddered at the memory. Colt touched this scar at Seven in the bar. No one has ever touched it but me.
“You're distracted,” Colt said as he leaned forward in his chair.
Since he hadn't asked but rather stated that I was distracted, I didn't bother denying it. I was glad he just wanted to meet for coffee this morning and not a full blown meal. I was still nursing a nightmare hangover and the intensity of Colt first thing this morning probably wasn't a good thing. I kept thinking of all of Wade’s warnings about not getting distracted around Colt, and to always concentrate.
I was failing at heeding those warnings. He was staring at me with those dark, sexy eyes.
“I had a long night, I'm just a little tired.”
“Did I keep you up past your bedtime? Did Wade and his girl interrogate you?” I smiled and sipped my coffee. “You didn't fuck anyone, did you?”
Colt’s eyebrows were knitted together tightly now.
“Of course not! I got home about twenty minutes after you dropped me off at my car and went to bed. I just didn't sleep well. Besides, I knew your rules and agreed to them.”
“You should have slept soundly after our play at Seven.”
“I did…I just woke up too abruptly.”
Colt sipped his coffee but peered at me over the rim of his cup. When he set his cup down, he was no longer frowning, but a different look was plastered on his handsome face; understanding.
“Nightmares?” he asked as he stared at me.
I nodded.
“Yes, Sir.”
“It's Colt, Leda. ‘Sir’ is for Seven,” he reminded me.
I closed my eyes for a moment and berated myself. I've got to concentrate around him.
“I apologize, Colt.”
He was quiet for a few moments and stood. Was he leaving? Shit! Was it because I said “Sir” versus his name? My heart began pounding as he picked up his coffee cup. Colt picked my cup up too and said he'd be right back. He walked up to the counter and asked for refills.
He wasn't leaving.
When he returned, instead of sitting across from me as he had been, he pulled his chair closer to me and sat to my left.
“Tell me what chases you in the night, Leda.”
I tried taking a slow, deep breath that hopefully wasn't obvious. I didn't want him to see that I was nervous. I began overthinking; he told me to tell him. One of his rules was always to obey him; otherwise, I'm gone. I can't risk losing the opportunity to see if he could really give me what I needed. If Colt couldn't, I don't think anyone could.
“Leda,” Colt prompted.
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't apologize for something you have no control over. You're distracted by whatever haunts you in your dreams. So, what did you spend your night running from in your sleep?”
I had a feeling that he already knew or at least suspected.
“My grandfather.”
I looked down and the paper coffee cup and traced the words with my fingers during the awkward silence. Colt reached out and wrapped his hand around my fingers, preventing me from nervously tracing the warm cup.
His hand felt so comforting surrounding my fingers. Colt’s hands were warm, and while they were gentle, they were protective. I think my pulse picked up when he took hold of my fingers.
When I looked up at him, my heart clenched because he smiled at me.
“When did it start?” Colt asked but never took his eyes off me. I think he knew I was struggling a bit since I somewhat avoided this question with him the other day. “You mentioned that the two of you would go off to find wood for your dollhouse, so I imagine pretty young.” He paused, squeezed my fingers and added, “Sound about right?”
I nodded. With his other hand, he reached down and slowly pushed my skirt up, exposing the red skin that I created this morning. I think he knew that he was going to find red, blotchy skin, but probably hoped he wouldn’t see any fresh cuts. I looked down, embarrassed by what I had done. If I had known that Colt would call this morning, asking to meet for coffee, I wouldn't have taken the scalding shower. He called after I got out of the shower.
Colt let go of my skirt and set his hand on top of the fabric that covered my irritated skin. He was quiet and I worried about what he was thinking and what was on the tip of his tongue. What came out, wasn't what I was expecting.
“Did it make you feel a little better?”
I whipped my head up to look at him. Was he messing with me, or did he possibly understand?
“When you took the hot shower and let water burn, did it get rid of some of the other pain? Or when you cut yourself, does it soothe other pain?”
I slowly nodded as he gave me a small smile. I know we briefly talked about it the other night, but I didn’t think he’d possibly understand this.
“Leda, you have so much noise going on inside your head. I like you; you’re different. I see a lot of potential in you, but until you let go of what has weighed you down since you were a little girl, I’m never going to see your full potential. I would be shortchanged. And I don’t like to be shortchanged regarding anything. We’re going to get rid of all that noise in your head.”
“How?”
“You leave that to me. All you have to do is trust me.”
He was gently stroking the scar on my wrist as I stared at him. It was the first time in my life that someone has said something like that to me, and I believed him with my whole heart.
We arranged to have dinner tomorrow night and when I left his side, I felt like hope was alive and in full swing; Colt Grantham just might be the one who can give me what I desire and need.
19
Colt
“What I am certain of is your absolute ignorance regarding your own lustful needs, your wicked desires.”
She looked uncomfortable as I stared her down. I leaned forward to catch her hand within my own.
“Leda, you’re so full of longing. It’s what makes you so desirable. You’re completely out of touch with your own body.”
“No, I’m not,” she whispered shaking her head, but her body told me differently. She leaned in even closer to me.
“Yes, you are. But don’t worry, Leda, it’s my job to get you to make peace with your wicked desires, the ones that send the juices dripping down your legs. The ones that keep you awake at night staring at the ceiling drenched in perspiration, biting your lip as you drag that blade across your arm and pray for courage.”
Leda sucked in her breath. She jerked her arm away from me pulling her sleeve down. It was too late. I’d already seen the marks.
“Hesitation wounds. They’ll heal. You must have done it quite recently. My only question is who drove you to such extremes? Did you get turned down for a job you wanted? Financial difficulties? No, my experience tells me it was something personal…deeply personal.
“You hate yourself because of what someone else did to you. You associate pain with pleasure. You had to in order to survive your traumatic childhood. You had to believe that by hurting you he loved you.” I stopped to sip my scotch. I watched her face carefully noting how tense her body was becoming and the corners of her mouth had turned down.
“Colt, you see a lot, but that’s not exactly how I see it.”
“Then tell me how you see it. Make me feel what you feel, Leda.” I leaned forward my hand grazing her knee beneath the table. She jumped as she felt my hand.
“How can I? You and I are so different.”
I laughed, motioning the server to bring me another scotch.
“If you believe that, then this isn’t going to work. Leda, pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin. In my world, one does not exist without the other. The fi
rst time we met you told me you wanted something dark. If you look into the darkness, you’d better expect to see the devil.” I grinned at her baffled face. I knew she didn’t know what to make of me. She thought I was putting on a false bravado which, of course, I was.
“Are you the devil? Shouldn’t I be calling you Lucifer?” She laughed finishing her glass of wine. Her cheeks flushed pink.
I waved my hand.
“My friends call me Luke. No, with all seriousness, Leda, I am a very dark man and what Wade and Chastity said about me is true.”
I could see her interest piqued even more. She twitched nervously in her seat.
“The scenes you’ve done with Service Tops are nothing compared to what you’ll get with me. Intense pain that lasts for days and a climax so shattering you won’t be able to move afterward for hours. Think you can handle that?” I traced my finger over her right hand.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Then answer me one more thing. Who hurt you? Who aroused these feelings in you?”
Her blue eyes met mine squarely as she fondled her glass.
“My grandfather.”
I shuddered as it was my stepfather who had hurt me. I imagined her as a young girl with her long curling blonde hair huddled beneath the pink sheets of a canopy bed crying softly after he’d hurt her.
“I see. So, after your traumatic experience with your grandfather, you began to believe that you weren’t receiving love unless you received pain. I assumed you loved your grandfather?”
“I did at times.”
“Your relationship with pain is a precarious one. The infliction of pain onto your body causes you distress, but great pleasure. Therefore, when you can’t achieve the pleasure you’re seeking from someone else, you hurt yourself. Yet part of you hates the pain particularly the kind your grandfather caused you. But without pain, you can’t feel anything.”
Descent (Inferno Book 1) Page 13