Rogue (Phoenix Rising)

by Brynley Blake

  “Stand up, sweetheart.”

  My knees feel wobbly. He must be able to tell, because he slips his arm around my waist, steadying me, and the heat of his hand burns through the thin fabric of my dress like a brand. He leans down and kisses the side of my neck, and I tilt my head, giving him better access. He trails hot kisses down the column of my neck and then steps back, his eyes still hot.

  “We’d better go, or we’re going to miss our dinner reservations,” he says in a low voice.

  I don’t try to hide my confusion or disappointment. I’m so aroused from the last five minutes that I feel ready to burst into flame. The last thing I’m thinking about is dinner. “But I thought we were going to…” I trail off, too self-conscious to continue.

  He smiles, and it takes my breath away. “All in good time. This is part of the seduction.” He taps my head with his forefinger. “Kink starts here.”

  “I thought kinky sex was handcuffs and blindfolds and stuff.”

  “That’s part of it, yes.” He gently gathers my hair into a loose ponytail in his hand. Using it as leverage, he pulls my head back, exposing my throat. He brushes his fingertips across my breasts, and my sex clenches in response. “But at its essence, it’s a power exchange. One person gives their control to another. In this case, you give the power to me. Are you still willing to do that?”

  “Yes.” It’s a breathless whisper.

  “Good. Then let’s go.”

  I pout. “Wait. We’re really going to dinner?”

  His laugh is rich and throaty, and it inexplicably makes me want to drop to my knees again. “We’re really going to dinner.” He lowers his voice seductively, and my belly tightens in response. “We need to talk. I want to know what turns you on, and how far I can push you. Just give me a few minutes to shower.”

  He showers quickly, emerging from the bathroom in less than five minutes wearing nothing but a towel, water droplets still clinging to his unruly dark hair. My mouth goes dry as he drops the towel. He is magnificent, his body lean and muscular, his cock thick and erect. But apparently, we’re still going to dinner, because he quickly dresses and we walk down to the beach where a table has been set up under a coconut tree, providing a perfect view of the sunset over the Pacific. He takes my hand as the waiter brings us a bottle of wine. I love the feel of my hand in his, and the way he idly plays with my fingers while he discusses the dinner options with the waiter.

  We order, and as the sun begins its magnificent descent into the ocean, he asks me about my past relationships.

  “I didn’t have the time, or the emotional availability, to date in high school, or even the first few years of college. I was dealing with my parents, and then their deaths,” I explain. “I went out with a few guys in college, but no one really special except for Bryce. Although he turned out to be not that special.” I frown.

  “And how was sex with Bryce?” he asks. He’s moved his chair closer to mine, and he places his hand on my bare thigh, his thumb rubbing erotic little circles over my sensitive flesh.

  I shrug. “It was okay.”

  His lips twitch. “If it was just okay, he wasn’t doing it right. Did you ever do anything kinky?”

  I laugh. “No! Bryce was about as far from kinky as you can be. He preferred missionary, and always with the lights off. Probably because that way, he didn’t have to see my body.”

  Noah’s eyes narrow. “Why the hell wouldn’t he want to see your body?”

  “Well, you know, it’s kind of curvy. I have a little too much ass and no matter how much I work out at the gym, my hips don’t seem inclined to shrink.”

  “Fuck, McKenzie! Do you really believe that shit?”

  His vehemence catches me off guard. “Well, sort of.” I shrug. “He ended up cheating on me with my next-door neighbor, who’s a marathon runner, so there was obviously something wrong with me.”

  Noah grips my chin in his hand in that possessive way that shoots arrows of desire straight to my sex. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with your body, and everything wrong with that asshole you were dating. Your body is perfect. You have the kind of body that gives men wet dreams.”

  I flush under his praise. He leans forward and kisses me, and I melt into him.

  “I want you to go to the bathroom and take off your panties and bra.”

  His low command, so close on the heels of a kiss that takes my breath away, catches me off guard. “Now?”

  He nods. “Right now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I told you to, and because you’re mine for the remainder of the trip and have agreed to do whatever I ask,” he reminds me gently.

  Why is him telling me what to do so freaking hot?

  “Oh,” I say in a small voice.

  He strokes his fingers up the tender underside of my arm. “And because I enjoy looking at your body and want to appreciate every curve and nuance of it. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  There’s a restroom inside the restaurant, and I quickly remove my bra and panties, balling them into my hand since I didn’t bring a purse. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, and I barely recognize myself. My chest is flushed, my lips slightly parted, my eyes glazed with lust. And Noah hasn’t even touched me yet.

  His lips twitch with that small, secret smile of his as I walk across the sand to our table, and my face flushes as I wonder how obvious it is that I’m wearing nothing but the dress.

  “That’s better,” he says as I sit down. “Now open your legs.”

  “I…” I start to protest, but the look on his face has me obeying.

  “How do you feel?”

  I feel exposed and vulnerable, but also incredibly aroused. I’m intensely aware of the brush of the soft fabric against my bared sex, and the faint breeze caresses me like a lover, making me needy to a degree I’ve never been before. Or maybe it’s just that predatory way Noah’s watching me, like he can’t wait to devour me, his eyes heated.

  Unwilling to admit how much he’s getting under my skin, I try to make light of it. I roll my eyes. “I might as well be naked.”

  “No more eye rolls, or you will be.”

  My gaze flies to his. Surely not. But he’s not smiling. Just looking at me with that intense gaze that makes me somehow scramble to do exactly as he says. And sends desire stabbing through me.

  “Okay,” I say quickly.

  “No more ‘okays.’ Make that ‘Yes, sir.’” His gaze is unwavering. He is dead serious, and it’s hot as hell.

  I am powerless to do anything but obey. “Yes, sir.”

  He brushes his hand across my chest again, and I can feel my nipples tighten, poking against the thin fabric of my dress. He notices, too, and smiles.

  “You know, your face glows when you’re aroused. I like it. Hand me your bra and panties. I’ll keep them for you in my pocket.”

  Wordlessly, I pass the lacy undergarments to him under the table. To my complete mortification, he lifts my thong to his nose and inhales deeply, then tucks them into his pocket. “Damn but I love the smell of you.”

  I know better than to protest this time. He’s made it clear that he will do as he pleases. Taking my hand in his again, he opens my fingers, lifts my hand to his lips, kisses my palm, and then places it back on the table, lacing our fingers together.

  “Tell me what you want, McKenzie.”

  I shake my head, certain I can’t put into words this hunger I have for something I didn’t even know existed until him. “I don’t know.”

  “Okay. Let’s start with what you do know. Last night, I was rough. I took you hard, manhandled you a bit. How did that make you feel?”

  That’s easy. “Excited. When you were so sure, so decisive, it didn’t leave any room for me to have any doubt or insecurities. I liked that you took what you wanted. And knew what I needed.”

  It was a sharp contrast to Bryce, who’d constantly asked if I was okay or if I’d come yet or whether he should continue.

>   His smile warms me all the way to my toes. “Sometimes I like to be tender, but other times, I’ll want to take you hard and even mark you.” The fact that there will be other times sends a thrill racing through me. He takes a sip of wine. “And when I spanked you?”

  I’m silent, embarrassed to admit how it had turned me on. But he’s adamant in his silence, patiently waiting for me to claim what I want, to find the words for my newfound need.

  “It made me wet. Needy. It made me want more.” I make my confession, my voice ragged.

  I put my hand on his thigh, as if I can transfer some of the strength in the solid hardness of his muscles to me. I am so out of my element. I try to divert the conversation away from the feelings he evokes in me. “I don’t understand. Why is this on Liam’s list?”

  “I didn’t know your brother, so I can’t say for sure, but it fits with the type of life it appears he wanted and the way he lived. The way I live. And the way I think you want to live.”

  “Go on.”

  “It’s for people who crave intensity, people who want the fullest experience possible, in how they think, how they feel, what they do, and how they love. That’s how I am. I want more. I want to live life to the very edge where I feel alive, not complacent. For me, that comes from being in control, from taking a girl to that space where need, hunger, desire, passion, and anticipation all come together, and watching her react to that. And most of all, knowing I made it happen.

  “I want to take you there. I want you to let go and let me take you to edge of the abyss, so close that you can glimpse the dark depths, while trusting me to never let you fall. I want you to have no limits with me.”

  No limits. It seems impossible. And completely wonderful. “I want that, too.”

  The sun has disappeared, leaving a trail of stars behind, and without speaking, we slowly walk back to our room. My heart beats faster with every step that takes us closer to the villa, and everything the night holds. Upstairs, he closes the door and takes me into his arms, and I practically sag with relief. When I’m this close to him, the steady sound of his heart beating in time with my breath, I feel protected and secure. It doesn’t make sense really. What I’ve agreed to, what I’m about to experience, is quite frankly scaring the hell out of me, although I’ve never wanted anything more. But ironically, what scares me is coming at the hand of the very person who makes me feel the safest.

  In a moment of clarity, I see how it works. I can give myself freely to him and surrender to whatever he wants precisely because I trust him, and because he makes me feel safe. There is no one else I could have done this with but the strong, silent man standing before me. All the crazy things on Liam’s list have simply been stepping stones to get me to this. Overcoming my fears to accomplish them has made me stronger, braver, and finally able to reach out and grab the life I’ve always wanted but been too afraid to claim. A life of surrender, abandon, and fulfillment. And I’ve been waiting for this one moment, this one man, to set me free.

  Chapter Thirteen

  McKenzie

  “Strip.”

  I freeze at the command, suddenly consumed by fear and doubt. I can’t do it. Not with Noah standing there watching me with that look of implacable expectation on his beautiful, but unsmiling, face. He hadn’t turned on the lights, but he’d lit several candles when we walked in, and coupled with the moonlight shining through the wall of windows, I feel too exposed. Too vulnerable. As if he can see every flaw, both inside and out. I’m not like the other girls I’m sure he’s used to, who are no doubt self-assured and confident in the power of their bodies and their sexuality. The girls who aren’t afraid.

  “I-I can’t,” I whisper.

  He’s next to me in an instant, the weight of his hand resting on my hip oddly reassuring. He grips my chin in his hand in a gesture I’m coming to love, forcing my gaze to his.

  “No, you can’t, can you, sweetheart?” His voice is soft with understanding, tinged with a hint of what almost sounds like wonder. “But one day, you will. One day soon, you will bare yourself to me.”

  I’m not sure if he’s just talking about clothes.

  His fingers brush over my shoulders, tugging the spaghetti straps of my dress down until my breasts, unfettered by a bra, spill out. He cups them in both hands, and I shiver with desire. His hands are warm and possessive, and he deliberately flicks his thumbs slowly over my hard nipples, watching my face intently for my reaction. He smiles as I suck in air and does it again. Then he’s easing the dress down over my hips until it pools at my feet and I’m completely naked, standing in front of him.

  “God, you’re exquisite.” The way he’s looking at me sends little sparks of heat dancing across my skin.

  He runs his fingertips lightly down my arms and then grabs my hands, pulling me gently toward the bed. He kisses me, distracting me with those soft but demanding lips of his, his tongue invading my mouth and igniting my senses. When he finally breaks the kiss, I’m surprised to find myself lying on my back on the bed, his chest flattened against mine so that the slightly rough fabric of his shirt abrades my suddenly hypersensitive breasts.

  With a faint smile, he lifts my wrist above my head and slips my hand through a loop he’s fashioned from a sash of some sort that’s tied to the bedpost. He pulls it tight, and just like that, my left arm is secured. My eyes widen as he grabs my other wrist and attaches it to the opposite side, so that my arms are restrained above me on either side of the headboard. I have no idea when he set this up, but he clearly has it all planned out, and I’m not sure if the thought of his premeditation is terrifying or exhilarating.

  He looks into my eyes, his steady gaze centering me. His hand caresses my cheek, his finger tracing the curve of my ear gently, and I sigh. Just his touch sends my pulse racing and has my stomach quivering. For a second, I wonder how I got here, tied to a bed in the Philippines while this gorgeous man touches me as if I’m an exquisite treasure, exploring every curve like I hold the secret to something mysterious and precious. It’s surreal. A few short months ago, I was grief-stricken and terrified of my own shadow, afraid of living because the flip side was unimaginable, never realizing I hadn’t truly been living at all.

  Then he’s lightly circling my breasts, drawing closer and closer to my nipples, which are already puckered and tingling in anticipation, and I’m not thinking about anything but his touch, and exactly where I want it. He chuckles as my body bows toward him slightly.

  “Baby, I love how responsive you are to my touch.”

  He traces a figure eight around my breasts, bypassing my needy nipples, and I groan with the overwhelming need to be touched. His fingers trail over my stomach, and he shifts his body down to the end of the bed, taking my foot in his firm grip. I feel the fabric cinch around my ankle as it did around my wrists, and with a sharp tug, my right leg is secured to the corner of the footboard. He grabs my other ankle and gently opens my legs, similarly binding my left ankle to the opposite corner so that I’m splayed spread-eagle.

  “What kind of hotel is this?” I mutter as I tug on the bindings. My arms and legs don’t budge, and I feel a small flare of panic that I quickly tamp down.

  “The kind with complimentary robes that come with sashes.”

  He stands next to the bed, looking down at me, and I want to cover myself, to close my legs against his scrutiny. But I’m powerless to do anything but be the object of his desire, available to his every whim. He regards me deliberately, those rugged hands of his stroking the scruff of his beard.

  “Something’s missing,” he muses, looking down at my open and splayed body.

  I watch as he walks into the bathroom and comes back with another sash which he ties over my eyes, throwing me into darkness. I’m disoriented, unable to see or hear anything other than the music he turned on when we got back to the room. Panic hits me in the gut. Suddenly, it feels as if all the air has been sucked from the room. I can’t breathe. I struggle, desperately trying to free myself as my
body thrashes against the bed.

  Noah’s hands on my shoulders are firm but comforting. “Breathe, baby. You’re okay. You’re safe with me. I won’t hurt you. I just want you to experience the exhilaration and pleasure that being out of control can give you. You’ll never know your limits if you don’t test them. I promise I won’t push you farther than you can go.” His hands are rubbing my shoulders soothingly, and I can feel my muscles begin to relax. “If things get too intense or you want me to stop, say red and I’ll immediately stop. But I want you to try. I want you to give yourself over to me. To let go. Okay?”

  My breathing has slowed, and I nod. When his hands are touching me, erotically stroking my skin, I feel like I can do anything.

  “We’re going to play a little game. You enjoy my hands on you, and you liked when I spanked you, too, so I think you’ll like this.”

  I stiffen slightly, and he chuckles again. It’s a dark and wicked sound that goes straight to my core.

  “I’m going to give you a little taste of how arousing it can be to not be in control. When your sight and mobility are removed, your other senses are heightened,” he continues conversationally, as if we’re still sitting across the table from each other instead of smack dab in the middle of some sort of erotic power exchange, with me tied naked on the bed next to him. “I’m going to touch you with a variety of objects, and I want you to try to guess what they are. If you guess right, it’s worth two minutes of erotic massage. And, I might add, I give a pretty damn good massage.”

  “I remember.” I’m kind of grateful for the diversion of the game. Maybe having something to occupy my mind will help me rein in the panic that’s still simmering just below the surface at the thought of being so completely out of control.

  “If you guess wrong, it’s worth two minutes of punishment. We’ll settle up at the end.”