"The room was dark save for the soft amber light given off by the few glowing candles scattered about the room. They made his eyes glint, her skin glisten as he moved.
She had to work hard to breathe. She had lost all connection to her body hours ago, her shape defined now solely by his touch alone. Sweat ran in tickling threads along her arms as she lay slack, limp on the bed, held in place by the silk scarves loosely holding her arms above her head, her legs spread wide, pillows supporting her knees and lifting her hips.
She whimpered faintly as he bathed her exhausted limbs tenderly with a cool cloth before trickling fresh water into her mouth, soothing her parched, ravaged throat. “One more time,” he encouraged. She tried to shake her head, but could barely move. “Just one more,” he repeated, his soft voice intense.
The words had lost all meaning, he had used them so often. After the third time, she had begged him. After the seventh, she had wept with desperation. He had simply murmured soft words of sympathy and encouragement and begun again.
She had lost count after that."
Michael's voice oozed over her, low, even, soothing in spite of the frission of electricity it set coursing under her skin. The words were incredibly erotic, but no more so than the situation she found herself in, tied down, vulnerable, being read explicit stories by a god of a man in wire frames. Was that in his book anywhere?
"Every time was the same. He stroked her whole body gently, lovingly, leaving not an inch of skin untouched. Sweet oil had eased the friction the first time, but quickly her own perspiration became all the lubricant he needed. He slowly circled in, over breasts and thighs, spiraling in on her mound. Each time was the same, as he stroked with his palms and thumbs over her labia, between her lips, massaging generously, comfortingly, drawing her desire higher and higher. Each time he slipped two fingers in to rub carefully along her inner walls with his fingertips as she writhed and twisted against her bonds.
And every single time, just as she was about to crash into blissful release, he pulled back, letting her frenzy recede like waves on the sand.
It was torture by ecstasy, and she was entirely at his mercy. She prayed yet again that he would release her, let her come finally so she could remember who she was again. She existed now only in that moment, formless except for the shape he gave her, insensate except for what he made her feel."
It was becoming too much for her. The imagery, the sensuality of his voice, the anticipation, the tension of her bonds, all worked together to make her absolutely desperate. She writhed against her restraints, begging, sobbing, but he just continued on.
She cried out as she felt one warm finger slide between her labia, drawing along the length as though evaluating her. She arched up into the touch, but he pulled back, keeping the stroke frustratingly gentle. When he needed to turn the page, he pulled away and licked the digit he had been caressing her with, then used it to turn the page.
"Please, Michael! Please!” she begged him.
He simply smiled and continued reading.
"It was coming again, rising up along the column of her spine, squeezing her heart and lungs and muscles, soft guttural moans the only sound she was capable of. This time, oh please God this time she was so close she could feel it rising monstrous behind her eyes, preparing to tear her asunder, oh God yes this time NOW!
And his hands pulled away to coast gently over her stomach and thighs, easing her back from the brink yet again.
She let her fingers unclench from around her bonds, forced herself to draw in deep, ragged breaths. Opened her eyes to see him hovering over her.
"One more time,” he murmured gently, urgently.
"Ethan, no,” she managed to whisper, but his hands were already moving, coursing gently over her, down the length of her sensitized body and along her legs.
And she realized he was untying her."
His hand dipped back down and he fingered her again, two fingers sliding up and down and around in her slippery folds. She reveled in it, circling her hips with small jerks to bring his fingers in contact with her clit. He allowed this until it brought her too much relief, and then he would take his hand away again, making her scream in frustration.
"His mouth joined his hands as he freed her ankles, slowly moving back up with soft caresses and lingering kisses at all her sensitive places.
The contact grounded her, brought her back into herself. She responded, albeit weakly, knowing that this time would be different.
He let his mouth linger on hers for the first time in hours as his deft fingers coasted up to untangle the knots at her wrists. She let her arms fall to drape limply around his shoulders as he moved between her legs, sliding into her as gently as he had touched her all night. She sighed in relief, rolling her hips in time to his movements as he built her climax quickly, his own need making him tremble. She felt him tighten, heard him groan a soft “Oh god, Naomi!” and shudder deep within her. Her own release followed immediately, no hesitation on the brink as she washed over into deep, liquefying ecstasy."
He kept going, torturing her with words and caresses. It seemed to just keep going on and on, and she had given up on finding relief when he finally reached the end of the story. He closed the book and set it aside. She was surprised that he didn't do the same with his glasses. Instead, he rose and moved to the foot of the bed. He knelt between her legs, bent down to suck warm, wet kisses along her inner thighs.
She knew what he was going to do. “No!” she cried out, gasping. “Please, Michael, it's too much! Please just fuck me! I need you so badly!"
He looked up at her, the lamplight glinting off the gold frames of his glasses. “Lindy, if you want me to stop, you know what to do. Say the magic words and I'll stop. I'll untie you, and kiss you sweetly and hold you, and we'll be done for the night. But until you do, I get to decide what I will and won't do to you. Do you understand?"
Panting hard, she nodded.
"So, do you have anything to say?"
It took her a moment to shake her head no.
"Good. Because I'm really very hungry.” And he bent his head to dig eagerly into her cunt.
His tongue was liquid fire against her, eager, brutal, hot against flesh desperate for contact. She screamed out as he slid around her center, sucking and licking all the moisture oozing out of her. He drew it up over her clit and down to circle around the tight pucker of her ass, making her jerk away in fear. He slid his arms under her legs and up over her hips to hold her in place as she bucked and rolled against his face. She jumped every time the cold metal of his glasses made contact with her superheated flesh. Glancing down, she saw his deceptively innocent young face buried between her legs, saw the satisfaction in his eyes as he pleasured her, a quirk of the wicked in his look. As his mouth worked her clit, he slipped one long finger into her channel, stroking lightly as it moved. It took her a moment to register that it was his off-hand before he slipped back out of her and traced the line of liquid down between her cheeks.
"No!” This time fear motivated her demand. She didn't want this. This was ... wrong. “Prince ... Prince...” But she couldn't bring herself to say it.
He stilled, watching her, waiting for the words to come.
Her chest was heaving in panic, in desire. She didn't want to stop, but she had never even considered going there. But he had promised her she'd be safe. And she trusted him. Slowly she let herself relax.
In response, he tongued eagerly at her clit, rewarding her for her bravery. She felt climax knotting itself in her gut, and she reached for it eagerly, just as his index finger slipped through the tight ring of muscles into her ass.
She whimpered, her body squirming at the momentary discomfort. But his mouth never slowed, sucking and nibbling her to distraction until she relaxed again, to her surprise finding the new pressure strangely erotic. He slid his hand back and then slowly forward again, moving a little deeper into her. This time she didn't fight it, letting the gentle friction shiver through her. When he pulled back
again, he added a second finger, slowly forcing her open. In response, she opened her knees wider against the pull of the bonds holding her ankles.
He hummed against her pussy, looking up at her over the rims of his glasses. “You know where this is going, don't you?"
Unable to speak from the overload of sensation, she nodded her head.
"Will you let me?” He never stopped watching her.
She twisted her wrists uncertainly in her ties. “I trust you,” she said finally.
He backed off, leaving her bereft as he looked down at her. “That doesn't answer my question, Lindy."
She whimpered, desperate for any kind of contact. “Yes! Please, Michael, just touch me. I'll do anything you want."
"That's not enough, sweetling. Do you want it?"
"Yes!"
"Then say it."
He was implacable, but his determination only aroused her further. “Please, Michael. Please. I want you to...” The raw words stuck in her throat for a moment, but her need was too great. “I want you to fuck me in the ass."
He moved up the bed to kiss her lips, painting the flavor of her pussy over her mouth with his tongue. She heard a drawer open and close, and then he was kneeling over her, slipping a condom down his length before squeezing a clear gel from a tube into his hand which he then proceeded to slick over cock and condom alike.
Suddenly he looked bigger to her than he ever had before, and she started to panic, struggling against the ties holding her. He was there in an instant, kissing her, stroking her hair with his clean hand. “Shh, love, it will be fine. It's going to feel so good, I promise you. I won't let it hurt, but you've got to relax. Just relax, Lindy. Trust me."
She gasped out one last sob, her eyes locked on his blue ones. He'd taken the glasses off at some point so they no longer hid the intense compassion he showed there. She gentled under his attentions, and he leaned forward to kiss her again.
She tensed when cool, slippery fingers prodded gently for entrance, returning to the slow, easy caress of before as he eased her back into it. His thumb tapped her labia with each stroke, connecting the two places and promising more, until finally she relaxed again and began to enjoy the penetration.
He moved closer, lifting her hips higher with one hand as the other slipped out of her to guide the head of his cock against the pucker of muscle. Lindy couldn't help stiffening again, instinct warring with need. “It's okay, pet,” he murmured encouragingly, “we'll take it nice and slow. Just like I promised you, yeah?” Michael caught her eyes with his own, and she didn't look away, letting the assurance in his look comfort her yet again as he brought her to this new threshold.
It burned as he pushed through the tight ring of muscles, making her cry out. But the pain was quickly overwhelmed with a wash of pure ecstasy that drove out all else. Her entire body clenched, eyes and mouth open in wordless, silent scream. It was a sensation she could only describe as intensity, one that contracted every muscle in her body, holding it locked as he gently moved in and out of her, the gel making him slick and slide easily through her tight muscles. She gave herself up to it, trust no longer an issue as pleasure took hold. “Uh ... uh ... uh ... uh...” Her voice climbed the register as orgasm wrapped around her. Her muscles suddenly released as her whole being erupted and she convulsed against him, driving him perhaps further into her than he had meant to go. She screamed in surprise, in ecstasy, and he drove her on every thrust of his hips.
Finally, she collapsed, limp, panting, dripping in sweat. He slipped out of her gently, deftly removing the condom and casting it aside as he sat back on his haunches to look at her.
"Fortune favors the brave,” he commented throatily.
She just nodded, her hands opening and closing spasmodically around the ties holding her in place.
"I want to fuck you, Lindy."
Without opening her eyes, she nodded her head enthusiastically.
"Good. Because if I don't get inside you soon..."
She arched her hips toward him. “I want it, Michael. I need to feel you fucking me."
The velvet head of his cock probed for entrance like a familiar friend, and she welcomed it, guiding it home with a shift of her pelvis. He thrust into her with a shuddering groan and she cried out as the altered angle of her hips brought him in contact with her most sensitive places. The other had been good, but this was so very much better. He took her hips in his hands, lifting them higher to allow him to kneel over her as he pumped into her. Too far gone already, his usual patter of beautiful words was reduced to deep, guttural, animalistic noises that made her want to claw and bite at him. She felt each thrust in her throat as he lost himself in her, reveled in the pleasure of another person finding delight in her body. She wanted to wrap her arms and legs around him but she settled for grinding her pelvis against him, pulsing her walls around him as he sank into her time and time again.
It was only moments before she felt the tell tale tightening of his balls against her ass. “That's it,” she encouraged. “Come for me, baby. I want to feel it so much. Want to feel how much you enjoy my body. Let it go, lover. Nothing better than feeling you..."
"Ungh!” He slammed into her hard and froze, panting two breaths before he jerked shallowly with another grunt, gasping and groaning with each eruption. He collapsed, his head resting against her breast. She wanted to touch him, sooth him, caress the sweat tangled curls on his head, but the best she could manage was to bend her neck just far enough to kiss his crown as he gasped for air against her chest.
She thought he might have fallen asleep, it took him so long to move. But finally he rose and left the bed, disappearing wordlessly into the bathroom. The light came on, and she heard water running, the flow interrupted by something passing under the stream. After a few moments, the water and the light went off again, and he came out, a wet washcloth in hand. He leaned over her and gently, thoroughly cleaned her tender places with the warm cloth, his touch comforting, caring. He tossed the cloth back into the bathroom and untied first one ankle and then the other, kissing each before bringing them together. She groaned softly as the release of tension eased her flexed muscles. Then he leaned forward and repeated the actions on her wrists, his lips lingering on each pulse point before he gathered her up in his arms, pulling the covers over them. “Brave, brave Lindy,” he murmured against her hair. “So proud of you. So strong."
She drifted off to sleep, his words of praise a melody in her ear.
Chapter 19
Rogue picked his way carefully down the alley, comparing the address on the slip of paper in his hand to the building numbers he passed. Lindy's studio was about as far south and west as it could be and still be called Soho. Even so, it must have cost Gabriel a pretty penny when he'd bought it for her. Must kill him to know it was standing around unused.
Forty-seven Dominick Alley. Here it was. Not what he'd expected. It looked to be the back of one of the old cast iron buildings, with two loading bay doors and a steel door at the entrance with a keypad. Hardly art space. But he stepped up gamely and rang the number she had given him.
He had given up and turned away when the intercom finally squawked. “Michael? Is that you?” Lindy's voice came through the static.
He pushed the button. “Yeah, love, it's me."
"Come on up. Fourth floor, last door.” And the steel door buzzed.
He pulled it open. The entrance hall was bare and stark, leading to a square stairwell with painted iron stairs circling upward. The old rail was smooth under his hand, worn from all the people who had used it over the building's lifetime.
The fourth floor landing opened onto a long hallway of old wood floors, new drywalled walls and a pressed tin ceiling. There were only two doors on the hall, one near the stairs on the left and one on the right at the end of the hall. As he passed the first door, he paused to read the sign on the glass. Dominick Street Movement Center. Jazz, ballet, tap, yoga, tai chi and taekwon do. Well, someone had a variety of interests.
He continued on to the end of the hall and knocked on the scarred wooden door there. He heard a muffled sound and presumed it was her bidding him to come in, so he tried the heavy brass knob. It turned easily in his hand.
The space did not live up to the promised blandness of the entrance. Except for the long drywalled wall dividing the studio from the rest of the floor, the architecture was unchanged from its origins. Bare bricks and copper piping showed throughout. The front opposite the new wall was a row of tall windows, the tops curved in an elegant scallop. The ceilings were easily sixteen to eighteen feet high and covered in antique pressed tin tiles. To the far right was a spiral staircase leading up to a loft railed in ornate black iron work. Part of the space underneath was framed out to make what he presumed were the facilities. The rest was a small kitchenette.
The long wall was covered in shelves and closets and storage racks, some of which were now standing open, as well as shelf upon shelf of art books. The brick wall to the left was covered in unframed canvasses. A long, wide table stood in front of it, covered in a variety of mats and stretchers and containers holding rulers and knives and medieval looking cutting devices, a variety of frames stacked underneath. The floor near the windows was covered in an array of Persian rugs and set with an old leather couch and a couple of chairs as well as her easel and stool, a rolling cart filled with paints, brushes, palettes and miscellaneous other necessities nearby. There was fresh paint on the canvas.
And in the middle of it all was Lindy. Her hair was clipped loosely on top of her head, and she was dressed in slouchy, paint stained overalls and a PAFA t-shirt. But what he noticed most was how her face glowed.
She put down her brush and danced across the floor to throw herself into his arms. Her legs and arms tangled around him as she dropped light kisses all over his face. He grinned at her excitement, finally stopping her by catching her mouth with his own to kiss her properly. She tasted sweet and happy, and it was hard for him to pull away. “Hello to you, too."
She laughed, sliding down his body playfully, making him groan at the intimate contact. She took his hand and led him into the space. “Let me show you around."
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