101 Nights Box Set: Volume One

by SE Reign

  I flip to the app on my cell that controls the television and turn it off.

  “So this is how a future princess spends her days? Watching shit TV in her underwear?”

  She turns and blushes, like I know she will. Tugging her t-shirt down over her hips, Natalie tries to hide her body.

  “Really?” I ask, amused. “I’ve licked and fucked every inch of your body.”

  She grows redder, and I see her nipples harden beneath the t-shirt.

  I unbutton my suit jacket and pull it off, holding her gaze until she finally ducks her head. I toss the tie next then unbutton my shirt and cross to her. I’m at full mast, ready for my post-work fuck, and pause before her.

  She looks up at me, her gorgeous blue eyes a reminder of how exotic she’ll be considered in my home country. Her breathing is off, her gaze flashing with fire for reasons I don’t yet understand. When I touch her, she no longer tenses or shifts away. Instead, she leans into me.

  She’s ready for tonight. Her instinctive reactions have been replaced by those I want: submissive reactions that support the charade.

  “I like you this way,” I whisper, and dip my head to kiss her.

  “At your mercy?” she snaps, pulling back.

  “That’s what submissive is, isn’t it?” I counter.

  Her flush is from anger this time, not arousal.

  “What is this?” I ask, intrigued by her emotion. “A new side? I haven’t seen this before.” She’s responsive to my touch but that will of hers …

  Have I ever been curious enough about a woman to want to know how deep she is? Is this the elusive trait that’s been bothering me?

  “You aren’t playing my game,” I remind her.

  She sighs in frustration, and I can almost see her arguing internally with herself. I’m beyond amused to think she’d much rather hit me than kiss me. What she doesn’t know: I’d love a little more pain in our sex life. A hard slap or sharp tug of my dick … the rougher the better.

  “Okay. I’m … better.” The words are so forced, I laugh.

  “It’s a good time to teach you something new,” I add. “How to apologize.”

  “I’m not apologizing for being angry!”

  “Not for being angry. That I find interesting. For not being submissive.”

  She rolls her eyes and relaxes in my embrace, resting her head on my chest.

  “That’s not it,” I say and nuzzle her hair. My hands trace down her arms before I lift her chin to gaze into those gorgeous blue eyes once more.

  “I’m being good,” she insists.

  Capturing her lips with mine, I slide my tongue into her hot mouth, eager to taste the familiar, almost sweet flavor that is hers. She responds with passion I relish, her body molding to mine in a way that says she’s back in line after her little tantrum. Sliding my hands up her shirt, I tug it over her head quickly before returning to her mouth.

  Her skin is warm and oh so soft, and my palms skim her rounded hips and tucked waist to the nipples that are already tight buds, waiting for my touch. I flick my thumbs across both, and she shivers. I love exploring her body and press my swollen dick to her belly while deepening the kiss. Leaving her breasts, I stroke her feminine shape once more before circling her to give that tight ass a squeeze.

  Trailing hot kisses down her jaw and neck, I caress the soft skin of her body until I reach the hands clasped around my neck. After working them free, I maneuver her wrists behind her back. She doesn’t give one ounce of resistance now, once I’ve kissed her.

  I reach back to my pocket with one hand and pull free the handcuffs George passed to me in the limo then close one cuff around her wrist.

  She shifts, her uneven breathing slowing for a moment as she registers what I’m doing. It’s the first time I’ve used cuffs on her.

  “You remember your safe word?” I whisper, gazing down at her.

  She nods.

  I hold her gaze as I click the second cuff in place. She’s uneasy but trusting, her body still pliant in my arms.

  I release her hands and slide her panties off. She steps out of them, and I stand.

  “This is your kryptonite,” I start.

  The dazed expression on her pretty features is replaced by one of interest.

  “Widen your stance just past shoulder width.”

  She does so. I tap one leg out a little farther, and she complies.

  “Bend over.”

  The flush starts again, but she obeys. I circle to stand behind her, almost groaning in pure lust. Her perfect ass is in the air, her hands subdued behind her back, and her legs far enough a part that I can see the lips of that perfect little pussy waiting for me. Her tuckered asshole is on my to-do list for today, and I gaze at it, drooling over how tight I know it’ll be around my dick. It’s a position of perfect submission, one that makes me crazy with need.

  “No matter what happens, all you have to do is apologize like this, and I’ll forgive anything.” I tell her.

  “Anything?” she asks.

  “Almost anything,” I clarify. “I don’t think you’re capable, but if you fuck up bad, this position with you blindfolded and wearing a ball gag will take care of anything else. Pure kryptonite. Every time.” I strip out of my clothing fast. “You like that, don’t you?”

  “Yeah,” she whispers.

  “Want to know how to ask me for something in a way I won’t refuse?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Suck my dick.”

  “Okay.” She almost sounds pleased to learn this. “I kinda like that.”

  “You’ll like this even more.” I step towards her.

  Chapter Two: Natalie

  Kryptonite. I didn’t know it existed with someone like Elijah. It’s kind of scary to be handcuffed and vulnerable, more so when you’re naked and bent over with your ass in the air.

  I hear him take off his clothing and wait anxiously, always nervous about what he plans to do, until he touches me again. There are butterflies in my stomach and my blood is racing with exhilaration. He’s more exciting than a rollercoaster.

  Although, Elijah scares me sometimes. I don’t know if it’s what he does to me in bed or because, after a week, I’m starting to forget what life was like before him. My world now revolves around him and when he gets home. It’s nice to know I have some kind of Kryptonite, though, I’m not certain if I like it being me cuffed and exposed like this.

  His large hands touch my hips and run down the outside of my thighs to my knees then up my inner thighs. I hold my breath in anticipation, wanting – needing – him to touch me intimately.

  Two fingers fondle me, and I sigh. He places his other hand on my back to keep me bent over. I feel his cock on one cheek while he moves his fingers in and out of me, to my clit and around, then back to my pussy and to the tight ring of my ass.

  “God, yes,” he breathes, pushing a finger into my ass.

  My whole body aches for him, and not touching him is torture.

  “You know what I’m going to do to you tonight, after the gala?” he purrs. “Crush that ass hymen of yours. I am going to bury my dick so deep inside you … If I wasn’t in a rush now, I’d show you.” He pushes his finger all the way in.

  I shift, the need to have him inside me almost too strong for me to stand. He works his finger in and out of my ass, and I gasp as the large head of his dick tickles my pussy. I don’t mind his fingers and little blue in my ass. I’m not sure how his dick will fit, though, and I’m hoping it doesn’t hurt.

  He pushes into my pussy with patience that makes me groan, letting my body adjust to his size. The way he feels inside me is incredible. I’ve never had someone fill me to the point where I can feel them, and the way he so perfectly manages to stroke my G-spot when he thrusts … everything he does brings me insane pleasure, unlike anything I ever imagined possible with a long time lover let alone a stranger.

  If he was a different man, in a different time, and we led different lives … I’d say he was m
ade for me, because there’s no way it’s coincidental that our bodies fit together so well.

  His finger leaves my ass, and he takes my hips, bracing me as he moves in and out of me hard and fast. There’s no such thing as a quickie with Elijah, though I imagine if he’s in a hurry this afternoon, it’ll be faster than usual.

  “Know why I like this position?” he asks. He penetrates me as deep as he can and holds himself there, his hands traveling up my body. He grips my shoulders and pulls me to a standing position, one arm going around me to keep me steady.

  His other squeezes a nipple then makes large swirls on my abdomen, drifting downward, past my belly button, past my lower belly …

  “Why?” I gasp. I tug at the cuffs, unable to touch him or maneuver myself to feel him better.

  “Because your pleasure is completely mine,” he whispers in my ear. His hand pauses close to my clit without touching it, and I wriggle. He takes my neck with the other hand, and I rest my head against his shoulder, completely exposed to anything he wants to do to me.

  Beginning to thrust again, Elijah slides a finger onto my clit and strokes me lightly and rhythmically while his cock moves in and out of me. As much as I hate to admit it, there’s something liberating about him having complete control of my body, in letting myself drown in the scent of our lovemaking and the intense sensations going through me, from the thrum of pleasure building deep within me to the way he possessively yet gently grips my neck and plants hot kisses along my jawline.

  This man consumes me physically, pulls me into ecstasy even on days when I am almost too angry with him to speak.

  “Elijah,” I moan, the tension within me building to the breaking point.

  “You come when I say, farasha,” he reminds me – but strokes me harder and faster, sending me spiraling towards my climax.

  “Oh, god!”

  “Control it.”

  I’m too tense to move or speak, my mind going into overload with the pleasure just waiting for me to release it … As with everything about Elijah, I’m drowning in his intensity, in the feel of his massive cock in my pussy and the way his finger is circling my clit now, shoving me closer to my orgasm while he refuses to let me come.

  “Now, farasha,” he whispers, the strained note in his voice telling me he, too, is almost there.

  My back arches beyond my control, and I am frozen for a moment, my mouth open in a speechless scream, waiting for the dam to break.

  “Now,” he orders in a firmer tone.

  My world explodes in pleasure. I cry his name as always, my legs buckling under the intensity of the orgasm that sweeps through me in waves, pushed on by his dick’s friction with my G-spot. His finger keeps working on my clit, rendering involuntary tremors from me that cripple my ability to recover while he plunges into me harder, faster. The hand around my neck is now supporting me.

  “God. Yes!” He yells finally, plunging into me one last time. He wraps both arms around me, burying his face in the nape of my neck while his cock pulses within me, spilling his seed.

  Breathing hard, I rest fully against him, his warm chest pressed to my back. My inner thighs are trembling and my world gradually righting itself after tumbling out of control once more.

  “I can’t get enough of you,” he says.

  Surprised he feels the same way I do, I twist my head to look up at him the best I can.

  “If we didn’t have people waiting on us, I’d kneel down right here and lick your cunt dry,” he adds.

  I love it when he says things like that. Recovering in the afterglow, I kiss his temple, aching to touch him still.

  How can I hate him one second and want to crawl into his arms so he can fuck me the next? What kind of man has that kind of power? Right now, with his eyes closed and the softened expression of pleasure on his face, I don’t hate him. He’s an intense lover, but a thoughtful one, one who praises my body and always makes certain I climax.

  “You’re forgiven,” he says.

  Then he says something like that, and I’m back to hating him.

  “Your body is mine, Natalie. No matter what you feel towards me, I own you.”

  I sigh. So he doesn’t care why I’m mad – just doesn’t want me to deny him his afternoon fuck.

  “Can you uncuff me?” I ask.

  “When I’m ready,” he replies. “Don’t ask again. Because who is in control?”

  “You are.”

  “Who do you trust with everything?”

  “You.” Except my heart and soul. Pretty sure you can’t buy or coerce me out of those.

  “Who is your master?”

  “You are.” I roll my eyes, grateful he can’t see my face.

  “Good girl,” he whispers. He releases me.

  Being bound doesn’t scare me. Not being able to touch him, though, is one of the most frustrating experiences on the planet. I watch him walk away, my gaze lingering on the round globes of his tight ass. He’s got the perfect body: chiseled to perfection by daily trips to the gym and covered in dark honey skin. I love the way his muscular thighs and biceps are shaped. I’ve never noticed another man’s body the way I do his, and I love touching it more, feeling the smooth skin that covers the shapely muscles.

  When he faces me, I look at his large dick. It’s long and relaxed after our round, bumping his thigh as he walks. My mouth waters at the idea of taking the huge head and long shaft into me, and I can almost taste the slightly salty flavor of his semen.

  He returns with the key and releases me from the cuffs. I hesitate, still needing to touch him, but knowing I’m supposed to ask permission before I do. It’s part of his control-freak routine.

  Another ridiculous rule.

  “Can I touch you?” If I didn’t need to so badly …

  “Yes.”

  I wrap my arms around him, breathing in his masculine scent and relaxing against his muscular frame. It’s amazing, but even holding him close to me, I feel the need to be closer. For him to be inside me, to squish our bodies together until there’s no division between us.

  His arms circle my body briefly, and he lets me hug him for a couple of minutes. It’s a sign he’s satisfied. I’ve never meet a man who loves to cuddle the way he does. It’s instinctive with him, as if he needs to keep his prized possession in his arms at all times.

  I’ve been working on keeping the wall between my body and emotions reinforced this week, just in case some part of me is convinced he’s not the heartless bastard he is. He makes it easy to despise him out of bed. He’s generally a jerk with an abrasive manner and rarely speaks to me except to order me around.

  But after the mind blowing sex … it’s harder. Our skin is pressed together, and I’ve come to crave his scent, taste and touch. Whenever we’re together, we’re here in our own private world, fucking or sleeping until it’s time for him to leave again. It’s safe, warm and pleasant.

  “Want to tell me what the fuck that tantrum earlier was about?” he asks.

  “Not really.” I hold my breath, hoping he’s in too much of a hurry to pursue. Because when he’s determined, there’s no shaking him.

  “But you will,” he says, lifting my chin so I have to look at him. “Because who’s the master?”

  I sigh, sensing there will be no dissuading him until he gets what he wants. Telling him about the issue I just learned about with my father, though, makes this arrangement somehow more personal than just fucking. I hate it. What’s worse: knowing my parents can’t pay for the surgeries he needs, while I’m strutting around pretending to be the fiancée of a billionaire.

  “You are,” I say. I’m surprised how easy the words are. “My mom texted earlier to say my father is in the hospital. That’s it.”

  “And you’re pissed at me because … why?”

  “I can’t go outside without the press swarming me. I don’t dare go visit him but I need to. I feel like I have no freedom anymore!” I hate the emotion in my voice.

  “Why not simply ask me?” T
he mocking note is in his tone again. He releases my chin and hugs me closer.

  I clamp my mouth shut.

  “Ah,” he says with a half-smile. “You don’t like asking me for anything.”

  “I don’t need to.”

  “We’ll both visit him. Tomorrow.”

  Shit. The last thing I want is to expose my family to him, to give him the ability to manipulate them or me. I open my mouth to refuse him.

  “We’re going,” he says, and kisses me. “You’re being compared to Grace Kelly and you’re mad at me. You know how many people would kill to be here right now with me? To have access to my influence or my money?”

  “I do,” I reply reluctantly. “But it’s temporary. When this is over, life goes back to the way it was. Besides, I’m not here for either of those things. I don’t care about your money, Elijah.” Even though I really need it to help my father.

  Is it just me, or am I the worst daughter on the planet?

  He studies me hard. “I find that impossible.”

  “Have I asked anything of you?” I return. “I don’t want any of it. I want to help people who deserve it.”

  “Everyone has a price. One day, you’ll crack.”

  “I won’t,” I snap. “If only to prove you wrong!”

  His smile is slow and cunning. “I like that. Your lip is such a turn on.” He leans forward to kiss me hard and deep.

  It takes everything in my power not to resist him. Not about to apologize again, I find myself responding to him. His hand roams down my body and finds my pussy again, pushing into its hot depths, while his tongue and mine tangle and dance.

  He lifts his head with a satisfied smile. “Fucking you is so good.”

  “I know,” I reply smiling. “I thought you would’ve been tired of me by now. You don’t seem like someone who likes forming social bonds with others.”

  A shadow crosses his features, and suddenly, his expression grows shuttered. He strides to his closet.

  I watch, not expecting the change in him.