Rogue (Phoenix Rising)

by Brynley Blake

  “Look at me.” The command is soft but forceful. With my mouth filled with his cock, I look up at him, and he holds my gaze as he slowly fucks my mouth. It’s profoundly intimate, and I swear I can see a glimpse of his soul through those deep brown eyes so dark with desire. Desire for me.

  The unmistakable whine of a small airplane overhead distracts me, and I’m suddenly excruciatingly aware of the fact that I’m kneeling naked on a boat, where anyone passing by in a boat, or overhead in a plane, could see me. I abruptly release his cock and instinctively cover my breasts.

  He frowns at me and stares pointedly at my arms, and I begrudgingly lower them.

  “Forget the rest of the world, baby. It’s only you and me.”

  “But people might see us,” I protest.

  “It’s unlikely. We’re hidden from view by the tarp and the cabin.” His practical tone doesn’t reassure me.

  I try to focus on his cock, which is impressively erect and still wet with my saliva, but now that the real world has encroached and reminded me it’s there, I can’t help casting furtive glances around us to see if anyone is nearby.

  Noah steps back abruptly, pulling his cock from my mouth and lifting me to my feet.

  “Whether anyone can see you or not shouldn’t be your concern,” he says brusquely. “Right now, you exist for my pleasure, and if I want to show you off, I will.”

  Grabbing a length of nylon rope in one hand and my hair in the other, he firmly drags me over to the mast and pushes me none too gently against it so my back is pressed against the cold metal. He yanks off my shirt and my underwear so I’m completely naked, and then begins lashing me to the mast with the rope. Within seconds, my wrists are bound to the pole above me and he’s winding the rope around my breasts, waist, and hips in some intricate pattern only he knows. The feel of the rope sliding against my skin is oddly erotic, waking my nerve endings and raising goose bumps of pleasure.

  However, I’m also increasingly aware of being tied up naked in plain sight of anyone who happens to pass by. Granted, we haven’t seen any other boats, and it’s dusk, but I still feel incredibly exposed.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, the edge of panic I’m feeling tinging my words.

  “No talking, baby. Just experiencing. Do I need to gag you?”

  I shake my head vehemently and clamp my lips together. He smiles, and my stomach flutters. That smile of his can convince me to do just about anything. He stops wrapping the rope around me long enough to kiss me, slowly and sensually. His lips are soft and gentle.

  “If anything gets too intense or you want me to stop, say red and we stop. Okay?” His words remind me this is play, just part of the world he wants to take me to, and I relax. He smiles again, but this time it’s the smile of a predator who knows his prey is cornered and helpless. “You may also speak if it’s in direct response to a question,” he adds. “But then your answer should be ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir.’ Do you understand?”

  I nod mutely. He smacks my pussy lightly and I gasp, even as I feel my arousal gush forth in response. My eyes fly to his, and he lifts one eyebrow expectantly.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good girl.” This time, he caresses my sex, the middle two fingers of his hand sliding into my wet heat, and I moan. I’m already completely aroused, and it doesn’t take long for that familiar gathering in my core to begin. But as soon as my hips start making little circles, driving his fingers deeper into me, he removes his hand and goes back to tying the rope. When he’s finished, I’m firmly strapped to the mast, the rope binding my torso to it in such a way that it looks like I’m wearing a rope harness of sorts.

  He steps back to admire his handiwork, and I look down at my body, marveling at the intricate series of knots. The way he’s fashioned the ropes frames my breasts, somehow putting them on display even more, yet the ropes crisscross over my breasts, trapping my nipples in between them. Moving down from my breasts, the rope wraps around my waist with one strand crossing vertically to bisect my slit and the crack of my ass. He has strategically tied a knot that rests on my clit and another that nestles between my butt cheeks, right at the tight opening hidden in between.

  “It’s called Shibari,” he explains, following my gaze. “The art of rope bondage. One of the more useful things I learned on assignment in Asia.” He flashes me a grin, and my stomach plummets to my toes.

  I try to move, but his ropework is as functional as it is artistic. I’m completely immobilized and his to do with as he pleases, with no one to witness it but the seagulls flying overhead. Hopefully.

  A wave hits the hull of the boat, and I immediately realize just how well-placed the knots are. The movement of the boat causes the rope to move ever so slightly—just enough to slide erotically over my nipples and clit and ass.

  I watch with trepidation mixed with desire as he crosses the boat and comes back with a strip of fabric that he got from God knows where. He pulls off his T-shirt, giving me a mouthwatering glimpse of his hard, glistening chest and abs before tying the fabric over my eyes. His fingers firmly pry my mouth open so he can kiss me deeply. I fall into the kiss as if gravity doesn’t exist. With Noah, there’s nothing to keep me grounded—no tether to sanity. There’s nothing to hold on to but him. He reminds me of the ocean—powerful, dangerous, and unknown, a force that can’t be controlled or explained. But I’m drawn to him like the ocean is to the moon, pulled by a force beyond time, despite the fact that at any moment I might slip under and be overwhelmed. Or maybe because of it.

  “This is two punishments in one.” My heart is beating like the wings of a trapped bird. “The punishment you earned on Pangulasian Island, coupled with a reminder of the fact that your body, and what I do with it, is unilaterally mine. How many minutes of punishment did you earn?”

  “I don’t know,” I say a little wildly. “Four? Six?” I’m having trouble thinking straight entirely.

  “We’ll split the difference with five,” he dictates. “That’s probably all you’ll be able to take anyway.”

  I swallow hard. That doesn’t sound very encouraging. What is he going to do?

  “The clock starts now.”

  I wait uneasily. The seconds tick by agonizingly slowly as I wait for my punishment to begin, every nerve ending on high alert. I can hear Noah moving around the deck as the waves gently rock the boat, causing the rope to continually graze across my erogenous zones. A bigger wave hits the hull, and it feels like the knot between my ass cheeks is being driven into my hole. I wiggle a little, trying to dislodge it, but that only pushes it in deeper. This is torture. Sweet, exquisite, mind-bending torture. The more the boat moves, the more the ropes tighten and press against me, and the more focused I become on my need to come. There’s just enough stimulation to keep me on the edge, but not enough to satisfy me. I hear the door of the cabin opening and closing, and then silence. The bastard has left me here alone, naked and tied to the mast.

  I try not to panic. I thought when he said he was going to punish me, it would be another spanking like the one he previously gave me—maybe a little painful but oh-so-erotic—not leaving me alone, kept in a constant state of arousal.

  “You’re a bastard, Noah Payne,” I mutter as another wave laps at the boat. The knot in my ass is stretching me uncomfortably, but somehow the friction is stimulating nerve endings I didn’t even know existed, while the knot on my clit is rubbing enticingly. I am quickly becoming a quivering bundle of need.

  “Not the best idea to throw insults when you’re in such a compromising position.” His low growl is close to my ear. “You just doubled your punishment, sweetheart.”

  “You were here all along?”

  “Well, I certainly wasn’t going to miss the show.” There’s a smile in his voice. He rubs his thumb over my lower lip. “I wouldn’t leave you, baby.”

  “But I heard the door open,” I begin. Then I remember what he said about things not always being what they seemed, and about having to put my trust
in him. “Oooh. Another mindfuck. You really are a bastard.”

  “You can call me a bastard, but it better be followed by ‘sir.’ Otherwise, your punishments are going to keep doubling with every word you say.” He’s enjoying this way too much.

  I bite back a retort. Although it’s fun to push his buttons, I’m not entirely sure I want to see how far I can push him, especially when I’m tied to a boat’s mast and completely at his mercy. He leaves me there another agonizingly long time as the boat rocks and the ropes shift, and I’m close to begging him to untie me when there’s a quick tug and the rope falls away. “Come here.” He doesn’t remove the blindfold, but with his hands on my naked body, he guides me to the upholstered double chaise and orders me onto my hands and knees. I obey, my heart thumping.

  He moves behind me now, his hands never leaving my body as he smooths my hair and strokes my back. I practically purr. I am so needy, and his hands feel so good. His fingers curve around my rib cage to caress my breasts, alternately squeezing them and tugging on my nipples until they become two tight points of desire. He reaches between my parted legs and slips a finger into my wetness. I moan as he slowly slides in and out of my pussy. When he removes it, I whimper at the emptiness he leaves behind and the fierce hunger he’s created for more.

  He pushes his finger into my mouth, forcing me to taste the undeniable evidence of my desire. Powerless to resist anything he asks of me, I let him invade my mouth, the sweet earthy taste of me on his fingertips intoxicating. He lightly trails his fingers down my spine and to my ass, unhurriedly caressing the globes of my bare bottom. His fingers gently pry open my cheeks, and I feel the heat suffuse my face as I imagine him inspecting my tight, immensely private hole, although his proprietary handling of my body is a huge turn-on. I remain as still as I can, trying to remind myself I have given my body to him, but self-consciousness finally gets the best of me and I jerk away from his touch.

  “Oh, baby.” He tsks, but I can sense his smile from behind my blindfold. “You are going to regret that.”

  His hand is on my back now, between my shoulder blades, firmly pushing me forward until my breasts touch the cool surface of the cushion and my ass is in the air. My sex feels swollen and puffy and ridiculously exposed to him, and I’m having trouble breathing. But for once in my life, it’s not from anxiety, but from rich and heady excitement.

  He slips his finger back into my pussy, coating it with my desire before pulling it out and tracing it over the crack of my ass. Then, slowly and methodically, he works his finger into the tight little hole. It feels huge—an unwelcome and wrong invasion—and I try to wriggle away from him again, but he’s having none of that. He delivers a sharp smack between my legs. It gets my attention, but it also has my pussy pulsing with little vibrations of ecstasy.

  He unceremoniously pushes his finger farther into my ass, and I gasp at the sensation. It feels forbidden, but oddly erotic as he slowly slides it in and out. With his finger still buried between my cheeks—holding me still in the most humiliating but oddly erotic way possible—he slips another digit into my pussy and begins to make little circling motions with both of his fingers. It feels so good I think I’m going to die. Another finger is pressing against my clit now, and the exquisiteness of it all is overwhelming. His fingers work together, each driving me higher and higher with the constant stimulation. I moan and buck my hips toward him. I’m desperate for more. He chuckles.

  “Not yet, baby. I’m not letting you come just yet. We still have a way to go into the darkness.”

  He pulls his finger out of my ass and my sex and I feel suddenly empty and bereft. And needy. Tears of frustration gather in my eyes. I have never wanted to come so badly in my life. I don’t have long to think about it because he’s lying down next to me, pulling me on top of him, my back to his chest, as his cock spears into me from below. My pussy pulses around him with mini tremors. I am hovering on the edge of combustion. He smacks my sex softly, and I instinctively try to close my legs, but he’s having none of that. He uses his feet and legs to hold me open and continues to tap my pussy. I’m crying now, tears of need and pleasure cleansing my soul.

  He stops and flips me over, opens my legs wide with the instruction to keep them there, and then leaves me alone for a few minutes. My anticipation heightens with the passing of each silent moment. The unexpected wet warmth of his tongue on my clit takes me by surprise, and I jump, but quickly relax as I melt into the delicious sensation. He licks and flicks and sucks on the engorged nub as he spears two fingers inside of me, pressing up against that hidden bundle of nerves that I didn’t even know I had until I met Noah. I’d always heard about the G-spot, but nothing I’d read had prepared me for the intensity of the feeling triggered by having that area stimulated, the first time by Noah’s fingers and then by his cock.

  This time, he rubs relentlessly, keeping up the pressure as an indescribable sensation begins to build, only to ebb slightly before intensifying even more. It’s almost painful, but not exactly, and I have the sudden undeniable urge to pee. Too caught up in the frenzy of my body’s response to form a coherent sentence, I try to jerk away from Noah, but he holds me in place, never letting up.

  “I have to pee.”

  “No, you don’t. Give yourself over to the pleasure. Let yourself go, baby.”

  I shake my head. I can’t. It’s too much. But I have no choice. I buck and contort my body, trying to get away, but Noah doesn’t let up. If anything, he presses more forcefully, pushing me past the point of what’s comfortable. This is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. The pressure builds, and I feel like a water balloon about to burst. I’m barely aware of my body writhing wildly as Noah continues to tongue my clit as he roughly thrusts his fingers inside of me. I’m equally sure that I can’t possibly take it anymore and that I never want it to stop. Not that it matters. My body belongs to Noah tonight, and the decision is his. Euphoria blooms in my belly as heat suffuses my entire body, spreading through my insides like coffee on a cold day.

  Everything ceases to exist as I hover suspended somewhere between some disoriented delirium and reality. There’s a roar that seems to start in my ears and move over my entire body and, having lost all sense of where I am, I imagine Noah is the ocean, the wave that is about to crash over me, obliterating me.

  Just as I feel the wave about to crest, he places his other hand just above my pubic bone and presses down—hard—and I scream as the surge crashes over me, sweeping me under in a flood of sensation. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. Tears fill my eyes, flowing over my cheeks from the sheer raw emotional force of the sweet release. But he doesn’t stop; he just keeps fucking me with his powerful hand while his equally clever tongue teases my clit, and I just keep coming and coming, one orgasm flowing into the other until my body is shuddering under his hands. It is the most intense thing I’ve ever experienced—powerful, deep, and seemingly never-ending.

  He pulls the blindfold off, and I struggle to focus on his face, which is right in front of mine. His eyes are beautiful, the window to a soul that’s made of sheer sex and masculinity steeped in aged whiskey. It’s dark now, and out in the middle of the ocean, a million stars blanket the sky like pinpoints letting the lights of heaven through. He bends forward and kisses me slowly, and I’m lost. I would do anything for him, give him all I have to give. My trust, my submission, my heart—they’re his for the taking.

  He gently turns me over onto my stomach and sinks his fingers inside my pussy again, opening me. Usually after I climax I feel sated, sleepy, and ready for cuddles, but right now my body feels amazing, like everything that just happened was priming it for what’s still to come. I’m still turned on, and I crave the feel of Noah inside me.

  “Please. Fuck me, Noah.”

  He replaces his finger with his cock and drives into me with such force that I grunt as my entire body lunges forward. The weight of his body pins me to the cushion beneath him, forcing his cock into me at a downward angle so that it hits
my G-spot again. Using his body as leverage, he holds me immobile as he batters into me, and this time the orgasms come more quickly, stealing my breath as they’re forced from me.

  “Milk my cock, sweetheart.” His breath is hot against my ear, and my pussy convulses around him at the raw command.

  With his cock still buried inside of me, he grasps my hips, yanks me up onto all fours, and drags me to the edge of the cushion, but my muscles are bankrupted by pleasure and my arms are shaky. He reaches forward and grabs my hands, and I have a moment of panic as I lose my sense of balance and feel like I’m going to fall. But he has me, his fingers wrapped firmly around my wrists, and I have no choice but to trust him to hold me and not let me fall. Its occurs to me then that that’s what intimacy with him is—a perpetual letting go and putting my body and my trust in his capable hands.

  He holds my arms behind me as he drives into me, and I hover over the chaise lounge, dependent on him to hold me up. If he lets go, I’ll fall. But I know he won’t.