by Christa Wick
Reaching down, he cups my breasts. His fingers draw forward, finding and twisting the nipples until a faint mewl escapes me. "If I hadn't been watching you so intently, I never would have noticed your tells or realized you were cheating. You made me want you. That was your mistake, Marie."
My mistake and my salvation. Without Masters, Rose and Solandro would have pulled me deeper into their con. He saved me from that and my life.
"Lucky me," I whisper before rule number 3 slaps me in the face.
Luck never gives, it only lends.
The loan period is almost over. I have one last night with Luke and then my marker is wiped clean.
Straddling my legs, he cups both sides of my face and forces me to look at him. "Why the sadness, baby?"
I close my eyes and hope he won't go so far as to pry my eyelids open to keep me from hiding. That he doesn't understand why I am sad tells me my leaving tomorrow means nothing to him. Nothing more to him than a drama-filled thirty-day fling, Luke Masters will soon forget me and have another woman warming his bed.
There have been plenty of warning signs of this outcome over the last few weeks. Not only did he stay away for five days after the shootout at Solandro's warehouse, but not once since my rescue has Luke called me love. He showers the word "baby" and kisses on me, tells me I'm beautiful and how badly he wants me, but he doesn't tell me he loves me.
How can I be all that and nothing at the same time?
"Not going to tell me?" Luke steps back, gripping my shoulders as he pushes my legs apart with the sweeping pressure of his foot.
Leaning forward, I press my forehead against the flat of his stomach. I could admit my feelings to him, but that will only increase my heartache when he sends me away. So I offer an explanation that I hope will end the conversation. "Endings are always a little sad, don't you think?"
His fingers knot in my hair to cinch my head against him. "If you only think of endings as endings."
I don't. The end of my relationship with Luke Masters marks the beginning of his relationship with another woman and the beginning of my return to loneliness. Knowing this doesn't drive away my sadness, it deepens it.
I take a ragged breath in, the fresh rush of oxygen easing my need to cry.
"Shhh..." He combs his fingers through my hair, his stomach pressing harder against my forehead as he rocks lightly from his heels to his toes. "You're way too stressed, baby."
"So relax me," I rasp. With my mouth concealed from Luke's view, I lick my lips. I know what comes next, where he can take me with his body and toys. Tonight, I need that trip more than ever.
His hand cradles the back of my skull. He arches his spine, the motion bringing the waistband of his pajama pants closer to my face. I want to unknot the ties, curl my fingers inside the fabric and drag it down his hips. Tomorrow will come no matter what, so we are only wasting time talking right now when I can instead have him halfway down my throat.
I nuzzle his stomach, my lips pressing against his navel as I tongue it.
"Relax you?" He chuckles, the sound pushing at me like a warm blast of air from an open oven door. "Baby, I'm going to exhaust you."
He breaks from me. I feel the hook and drag of each step he takes toward the dresser. Seeing him open the top left drawer, I focus on taking slow, deep breaths as my pussy works itself into a thick knot.
In his expert hands, the objects inside that drawer have the power to drive me wild and leave me floating in a blank abyss. The suede strands of the flogger will warm my skin, making my flesh extra sensitive to his touch. Nipple clamps and clit clips will bring even more sensitivity, his careful placement of them on my body achingly intimate.
Squirming in anticipation at what Luke will pull out, I hold my breath as he turns.
A blindfold.
I shake my head, something I am forbidden to do in response to play. My safe word is my only out, anything else and he will discipline me -- denying my climax until I am one contraction away from fainting if he doesn't permit me to come.
Seeing that bratty shake of my head, Luke lifts one dark brow at me.
That he would keep me in the dark on our last night of play makes me want to cry. I bite at my lip until I am certain I can contain the tears. "I want to see you tonight."
"You will, baby." Unraveling the fabric, he prowls toward me. "When the time is right."
Briefly closing my eyes, I nod. I know he will offer me only pleasure tonight. Tomorrow, I will deal with the heartache on my own. I lift my chin, silently accepting the blindfold. When he has it secured, Luke tells me to stand.
I rise as he drops to his feet. With no seeming agenda or fixed route, his hands roam my hips and thighs. His beard brushes against my stomach as he noses and kisses along the waistband of my underwear. His head dips, his nose and mouth landing halfway down my thigh. Keeping contact with my flesh, they move up toward the bottom of my panties.
Bunching the sides of the fabric, he slowly tugs as his mouth moves higher. I hear him inhaling and then his nose presses against the crotch of my panties. Scenting my arousal, he lips my plump labia through the fabric, the bottom half of his face manipulating my flesh until my need soaks through the material.
Groaning, he gnaws the thick folds of my sex then finishes unveiling my mound. On his order, I removed the dark triangle of pubic hair last week so that bald perfection greets his lips and tongue. Taking a second to part my labia with his thumbs, he presses a kiss to my clit and starts to suckle as his hands sweep my panties down to my ankles and guide me from them. The nylons remain in place.
His hands return to my thighs and wedge them apart. Fingers push up into my cunt and emerge covered in my juices to coat my thighs. "Every bit as wet as the first time."
I will always be this wet for him. I sigh, trying not to think about this being the last time he will experience my arousal. Hearing me, he growls softly and places his palm against my stomach. His other hand stays between my legs, his fingers pressed tightly together as they invade my cunt.
"Hands behind your back, baby."
Tilting my head back, I widen my stance and fold my arms behind me. Luke leans in, his body angling so that he can continue sucking at my clit as he increases the number of fingers fucking into me. Feeling the soft tissue inside me swelling, I moan at the pressure.
He responds with raspy groans and a fourth finger. "Such a sweet, malleable cunt, baby. You take everything I give you and you're still so tight."
I lift onto my tiptoes, my mound straining forward with the need to come.
"Can you take more?"
"Yes," I whisper.
Holding knuckle deep at four fingers, Luke returns to sucking my clit, his tongue dancing against the slow rocking waves of my body. My thighs flex, my mound pushes forward. Small tremors wrack my torso. Fluid seeps from me to run warmly down my thighs.
He licks me to my first climax then orders me over to the chair.
The chair arrived two weeks ago. It can only rightly be called a chair in some futuristic office where the secretaries take a very special form of dictation. A center beam rises up from a large metal base. From that beam, two more bars spread out to end in thick pads. These are where my knees go. On the other side are two more padded bars. These are where I rest my arms and upper body weight. A lever allows the height of the chair to rest anywhere from thirty to fifty inches off the ground.
When I am on it, my legs are forced apart, my ass is kept high, my back is exposed, and my breasts hang unencumbered. No chair back or seat exists to block Luke, leaving all my holes -- mouth, ass, and cunt -- available to him. It is a chair meant for flogging, sucking and fucking.
I move blindly toward the chair, my legs already shaking. I am amazed each time I climb on that it holds me and never threatens to tip, but the manufacture is solid. Even sightless from the cloth around my eyes, I easily settle onto it.
Contractions from my earlier climax continue to ripple through my pussy. The chair forces my body in
to a position that magnifies those ripples. My hips and ass do a little dance of need, but Luke is on the other side of the room. Over my excited breathing, I hear him slide the drawer shut.
He reaches the chair and places the flogger along my back. The tails flow down my bottom, their soft leather ends tickling my swollen labia. I sense Luke bend, as if placing something on the floor and my cunt gives a squeeze of anticipation.
Blindfolded, I have no idea what toys he brought to the chair.
Cunt flexing, I moan. He lifts the flogger from my back then his hand grips me. The thumb presses against my anus. He squeezes then rubs, ripping a heavier moan from my throat. Thumb still tight against that other whole, his fingers invade my cunt.
I know the tails of the flogger are only seconds from landing against my back. They whisper through the air and then I feel their light sting. My cunt locks around his thrusting fingers and I feel the tails again. I wiggle my ass, aching for the insertion of his thumb.
He doesn't give it to me. Another whoosh of the tails and my skin begins to heat in earnest. My head dips lower to rest against my arms. A light perspiration already coats my skin from the sensual torment and strain of holding the position. With my head down, my ass pushes higher.
Luke steps back, his fingers withdrawing from my pussy before a flurry of strokes pattern across the back of my thighs and my thick bottom. When they stop, his fingers stroke a repeating line from clit to cunt. Against my anus, I feel not a thumb but his tongue.
A tremor rolls through me. I need this badly -- not just the flogging and the fucking of his fingers deep into me, but the placement of his mouth at this exact second. I cannot imagine doing that to a lover destined to be discarded. The act is too intimate and accepting.
I am all too quickly brought to the edge of another orgasm. His hand drops down to my calf, his heat penetrating the nylon stocking as his tongue continues to gently trace and probe that other hole. I mewl and whimper, the sounds small pleas with my body to wait. His hand finds my pussy again. His thumb strokes my clit, starting with the small pearl beneath the hood and pushing upward.
His mouth leaves me and I feel him contort so that his thumb still plays with my cunt as he reaches down for the objects he placed on the floor. He straightens and I feel something about six inches long and incredibly smooth as he places it on my back. A tube runs from it to connect with another smooth, smaller object.
Groaning, I try to relax my ass for the inflatable probe. Hearing the squirt of lube, I tighten involuntarily. Grabbing the probe and its pump, Luke presses a soft kiss against the small of my back. He fingers my anus, his fingers slick from the lube. I bite my lip to keep my hips from jerking. Nothing I can do will control my moans.
When he has me fully lubed, he begins to insert the probe. One hand slowly fucks it into me while the other spreads my cheeks. When he has it halfway in, the hand holding me open moves down to my cunt so that he is penetrating both holes at once.
"I imagined this all day, baby."
Silent until now, his soft voice shatters me. I buck, the muscles of my ass pushing and sucking to quickly draw the last of the probe inside me. I cry out, climaxing and trying to ride his fingers and the toy before the sensation cuts off.
"That's it, baby."
Luke waits patiently until my hips cease their wild jerks. I feel him searching for the pump. He finds it and places it in my hand -- letting me control it. I hear him squirt more lube. Anticipation cuts deep into my skin. I am more than wet enough for his cock. No lube is necessary.
Or so I think. Fingers -- not his cock -- ease into me. Three at first, then a fourth. He is knuckle deep again. His palm narrows and then it is more than just his four fingers inside me. I suck a deep breath in and a shudder rolls through my body.
"Can you handle more, Marie."
It is the same question he asked me at the bench. I whisper a shaky yes, nodding as I do so. He is pushing me toward something sensation by sensation. I don't know what it is, but I trust him.
His fingers rotate inside me. Another tremor wracks my body. I have not squeezed the pump in my hand -- not once. I don't know if I can. Another rotation and a throaty sob leaves me. I can cry all I want -- I know this. He will not stop until I say my safe word.
A final rotation and he is all the way inside me -- fingers, thumb, palm. My clit pulls tight and refuses to relax. The tension increases with each contraction.
"The pump, baby."
The pump -- fuck yes. I give it a small pump, pushing only half the air in the bulb into the probe. Pleasure contorts through me -- ass, clit, cunt, even my nipples. My breasts hang heavy and swollen, sweat drips from my flesh, gathering at the tips of my nipples before it drops to the floor. I give another pump. My stomach tenses, the tilt of my ass shifting ever so slightly higher.
Inside me, his hand pushes forward like a plunger being depressed. Deeper and deeper he goes. His knuckles brush against something and I dissolve. My climax convulses through me. Pleasure, hot and liquid, squirts from me, wetting my thighs and the chair and the floor.
I cry, laugh, squirt again until I am barely conscious.
Slowly, Luke eases from me. The probe follows. I doubt I can walk but I don't have to. He wraps an arm around my waist, lifting and moving my body until I am cradled in his impossibly strong arms.
He carries me to the bed and places me center of the mattress. He kisses and strokes my body, his touch gentle everywhere it lands.
"So beautiful, baby. So fucking beautiful."
His admiration echoing inside my head, Luke leaves the bed. I hear water running in the bathroom. When he returns, I hear him open a bottle of Perrier. He brings it to me, holding the bottle and cradling me as I drink. Where his body touches mine, it is flesh on flesh, both of us naked since he has shed the pajama bottoms.
When my tremors die down, he cuffs me. Right hand, then left, the process familiar and comforting. When his hand closes around my ankle, I tense. This is new -- my legs have always been free.
As if he can read my mind, Luke softly whispers. "Not tonight, baby."
Bound and blindfolded, a weight begins to settle on my chest. He finishes securing my ankles. I hear the drawer slide open then shut. His weight pushes at the mattress as he settles next to me. His hands stroke my labia then move down one thigh. Finding the top hem of my stocking, he pulls it away from my flesh. His hands work at something and, when he releases the fabric, I can feel two small, rubbery attachments have been clipped to them.
A second later, he secures two more clips, this time to the labia on that side of my body. He repeats the process with the other stocking. I cannot see, but I feel the constant gentle pull on the swollen folds of my sex and know that my lower lips are being held back by the clips and the fact that my legs are spread wide.
The next object to touch my skin is long, thin and metallic. Like the cuffs around my legs, this is new. The caning wand has stayed buried in the drawer until now. He had told me my first time in his bed that he would teach me these things when I was ready. My ass surrendered first to his toys, then my flesh to the flogger but not this. I am not certain I am ready.
Rising from the bed, Luke works his hand beneath my head then removes the blindfold. I look at him, my eyes slowly adjusting. His skin glows with a thin sheen of perspiration, light from the candles flickering like gold. His cock runs thick and rigid up his lower stomach to an inch below his navel. The muscles of his torso and arms ripple as he subconsciously flexes for my benefit.
He is sculpted perfection and the ache I feel when I see him like this hasn't lessened a single degree.
Slowly, he lowers the wand until I can just feel it against my nipple. "Do you feel in control, Marie?"
I am cuffed to the bed, every limb bound until he frees me. It takes only one word, but I cannot use it. I want him too badly, want to please him and take pleasure from him. The need holds my tongue. "No," I confess.
"Are you afraid?"
"No."
I answer too quickly, before the question can fully filter through my mind. When it does, when the question really sinks in and takes root, I realize the answer is the same. I am not afraid because it is Luke.
The wand, when it strikes my flesh, will bring more than just the sting of metal. Like the flogger, it will make everywhere it touches more sensitive. My muscles will heat from its bite, my nipples will constrict. Everything will draw tighter to increase my pleasure.
Meeting Luke's gaze, I offer him my absolute trust. "I'm not afraid."
His eyes drift shut. His tongue pushes between his lips to wet the bottom center. Inhaling, he slowly sucks the lip and holds it between his teeth. I look from his face to the fat head of his cock. He has been in a state of full arousal for more than half an hour, his hands and mouth consumed with his attending to my pleasure. Pre-cum oozes from the slit at top and runs down his cock like the stream of a single tear.
My chest constricts painfully at the sight. Reciprocated or not, I love this man. I will, it seems, lose him by the morning, but tonight he is mine and I am his. I look back to his face, my gaze hooked and my heart waiting for him to open his eyes.
When he does, it is my face he first looks at. He nods faintly, as if we are both agreeing to something that hasn't been discussed. I don't know what it is, but I nod back. He moves one step to his right and the wand begins to strike lightly against my thighs. Although the area struck by the wand is more confined than the flogger, my skin heats and tingles more quickly from the rapid tapping of it against my flesh.
I want to squirm and wiggle as my cunt begins to knot, but I force myself to remain still. Luke moves with precision, heating both my thighs. Not missing a beat, the first strike against my breast lands. The impact is lighter but the strikes come faster as he moves toward my areola. With his attention and the cane focused on my breasts, my hips begin to move. My ass presses hard against the mattress. My thighs flex and relax in time to the taps from the cane. I moan when he stops, moan louder when he bends at the waist and sucks one sore, swollen nipple into his mouth.