by Lulu Astor
After giving the driver the address of the hotel, he leans back and looks at me. Seeing my triumphant grin, he merely raises a brow. “Battle conceded, war still up for grabs,” he says as his hand goes back up my dress.
Chapter 15
Despite heavy Saturday night traffic, they get back to the hotel in ten minutes. Ian had his hand up her dress for the whole ride—inching her inexorably to the cliff edge and then easing her back—and she is seconds away from coming when the taxi pulls in front of the hotel. As they wait for the elevator, Ian sees Ella’s face is flushed and her eyes are bright and shining.
“Have I ever told you that you’d look beautiful in silks?” he asks, as soon as he closes their room door behind him. He slides off the black leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder and begins to remove the items he purchased from Get your Kinks. Ella is watching, mesmerized, as he pulls out the long silky scarf-like binds, the blindfold, clamps, and butterfly vibrator—he remembered she liked that the first time he used it on her.
When he finishes taking the items out, she catches his eyes and slowly raises the hem of her dress higher and higher until it goes over her head. She’s practically naked now, since he deprived her of any underwear. She’s wearing only her thigh-high black silk stockings, the new collar, her kick-ass shoes, and the bejeweled butt plug. She looks ridiculously sexy, Ian thinks, his pants becoming uncomfortably tight. He shifts his hips, trying for a more comfortable position.
“I do wish you were wearing a tie tonight, Ian, so I can lead you to the bed by it. I always wanted to do that to a tall, dark, and handsome stranger. You fit the bill.”
He smiles, going for a rakish look. “I’ll put one on if it means that much to you, baby.”
She eyes him up and down and he thinks she likes his attire by the hungry look in her eyes—or is she focused only on what’s underneath? Though he took time in selecting the clothes he’d worn tonight—black tailored pants, a charcoal silk shirt, and a black cashmere cardigan, his prized accessory is the one causing the trouser tent in the front of his pants.
Stalking towards him, her head tilted down in a predatory fashion, she replies. “Not strictly necessary. I can improvise.” She reaches him and grabs his collar with both hands, yanking him with her as she steps backward toward the fluffy white bed. Apparently she doesn’t intend to let him continue with the program, if she could help it. Ian, however, has other plans.
“As I said, you will look so very good in silks, Ella. So indulge me,” he gently removes her hands and steps back over to his goodies, grabbing the silky scarves.
He sits on the edge of the bed and pats the mattress next to him. “Come here.” She immediately moves to him and he kisses her, long and hard, holding her head to his so she cannot move. “Lie down in the center of the bed.” His voice has quickly slid from seductive lover to demanding Dominant with no segue. The unpredictability is intentional: it will keep her off balance.
Playing nice, she does as he asked. Ian takes a moment to admire the scene: enfolded in the downy comforter, the contrast of her long, dark hair, black stockings and shoes, and kohl-rimmed eyes against the crisp white is visually alluring. Again, he has to adjust his pants. He takes the first scarf and ties it to her right wrist, checking to make sure it’s not too tight. Drawing her right knee up, he ties her ankle to the long end of the wrist cuff. “It’s really too bad that hotel beds have nothing to lash these to, but I’m a determined man.”
Ian repeats the process on her left side so her arms and legs are bound together but not lashed to the bed. She tests the binds by closing her legs and looks satisfied at her relative freedom of movement. He picks up a third scarf and his lips stretch into a wicked grin. He ties one end to her right cuff and then runs the scarf under the mattress to the other side, where he ties it to the other. Now she can’t move, nor close her legs. She’s at his complete mercy.
“Okay?” he asks.
She nods, her eyes wide and slightly panicked. Perfect: a little apprehension will only enhance the experience for them both. Ian reaches into his pocket and then crawls on the bed with one knee, leaning between her legs. “Now, I will allow you to come anytime or as much as you want, Ella, but you may not move an inch or make any noise whatsoever,” he warns as he places three cobalt blue marbles on her belly, in a straight line. One immediately sinks into her navel. “I will not appreciate it if you make me lose my marbles. Are we clear?”
“I’m afraid that ship has long since sailed,” she says with a breathy laugh. “What happens if the marbles roll off?”
Shaking his head and tsk tsking, he says, “You don’t want to know. Trust me—it will be ugly.”
“How ugly?”
“Hmmm, let’s see. Spanking? Perhaps. Tickling? Almost definitely. Orgasm denial? Without a doubt. Giant anal plug? Possibly. I might even give you another go at it if you lose a marble or two but if I do permit that generosity, you will get nipple clamps first. Then if one or two marbles slip, it will earn you a tug on the clamp chain. Let’s just see how it goes, shall we?”
With that comment his head dips down between her legs and his tongue begins a relentless, unerring torment. Two of the marbles slide off almost immediately.
His head comes up; he attempts an expression of profound disappointment while trying hard to mask his amusement. “Oh, Ella. You didn’t even last a few seconds. Is that really the best you can do?”
“Just so we’re clear, Ian, I want you to know that I plan to murder you in the most painful way possible as soon as you untie my hands and legs. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He wags his finger back and forth. “Eh, eh, eh, you do not have permission to speak.” He gets up and retrieves another item from the pile on the table. “I’m going to choose to be generous and give you another chance.”
He takes her right breast into his mouth and sucks so hard she gasps sharply. When he pulls away, he replaces his mouth with the clamp. It stings but it’s not too bad—that is, until he tightens it beyond endurance.
“Ow! That really hurts!”
“Take a few deep breaths and it will subside.” His voice is confident and reassuring. He does the same with her other breast. Running down from each clamp is a delicate silver chain and the two connect together into one chain—a leash of sorts—that dangles down past her belly.
“Ready to try again?”
She whimpers. “I’m going to lose them again; I know it. Damn it, Ian: do you think you could do it? It’s damn near impossible.”
“Control, Ella. You need to work on maintaining better control.”
When his head dips down again, she stops him. “Wait. What do I win if I manage to keep the marbles still?”
“You get a big—giant, really—and hard… kiss.” He pauses for a long beat. “…as I fuck you into next week.” And he begins again.
Motivation. This time she manages to keep still for a little while but not silent. Far from it: does she even realize she’s moaning loudly the whole time? Ian can’t help but smile against her flesh. He stops to unzip his pants and put on a condom and then leans in to continue.
“Oh, no, you don’t. I want to see you naked. It’s only fair,” comes her husky voice and she picks up her head, expecting him to comply and to watch him undress.
Fair enough. He straightens and removes his shoes by pushing one off with his other and kicking them away. Unbuttoning his shirt, he keeps his eyes on hers the whole time, enjoying how they seem to darken as the pupils dilate with her excitement. It’s proof she finds him as attractive as he finds her, and it strokes his ego. When he’s entirely naked but for the condom, he slides back down between her legs to give her that long awaited orgasm. She earned it and fair is fair.
The marbles stay on her abdomen until the top of her climax when they come rolling off as her hips jerk up into the air as high as the restraints will allow her to move. As promised, he jerks the chain attached to the clamps and is rewarded with a high-pitched shriek.
The slight bit of erotic pain will only enhance her orgasm, whether she knows it or not. He continues tonguing her until the last spasm and then in one fluid motion pulls up and pushes deeply into her. The plug makes it an extremely tight fit, plus she can’t move much at all and that sense of helplessness combined with the extra friction sends her over the cliff and she comes again within seconds. The clench of it is so strong that she almost takes him with her, but he manages to pull back in time so he could keep going. He waited all night for this ride and he’s going to make it last.
Sounding excited—almost desperate, Ella cries out, “Ian, I want to touch you; unbind me please.”
“How much, baby? How much do you want to touch me? Tell me,” he says in a voice deeper and huskier than usual.
She whimpers. “Please, I want to hold you… so very much.”
“That much, huh? Enough to turn down the job with Lucien Phillips?”
She looks at him, startled, and they both freeze. It’s an awkward time for this discussion but he needs to make her understand how he feels. What better way to have her complete attention?
“What? Are you kidding?”
He shakes his head very slowly, his eyes boring into hers. “No, baby, no jokes tonight. What will it take for you to turn down the job?”
“I…”
He swivels his hips then swings them back slowly before driving into her forcefully. Her eyes begin to glaze over as lust replaces confusion. Leaning his head close to hers, Ian whispers into her ear. “You’re mine, sexy Ella, all mine. Turn down the job.”
It’s the last thing she hears before her world contracts and explodes in an incredible orgasm.
Chapter 16
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why Ian doesn’t want me to work with Lucien Phillips. If anyone could give Ian some competition, it would be that blond Adonis. But I’m not looking at Lucien as romantic potential: I want to work with him on his documentary—badly. Besides, in the few minutes we spent together, he demonstrated no interest in me other than purely professional—for all I know Lucien might even be gay. One thing I definitely do know: I am taking the job, come hell or high water.
The adjectives I’ve come up with to describe what Ian did last night are unconscionable, bizarre, outrageous, infuriating, and punishable—a crime worthy, in fact, of imaginative punitive measures. If I hadn’t been so irrevocably in the moment, I would have kicked him. Oh wait: I couldn’t do that with my legs bound, could I? He’d covered all his bases.
I have to admit the undeniable: sex with Ian is incomparable. It’s true that, technically, I have nothing to compare it with since he’s the only man I’ve ever been with intimately, but I’ve had enough conversations with my friends and read enough Cosmo articles to know that sex with Ian is not the norm. Not even close. I know I should want to experiment with other lovers but I’m so certain they’ll come up short that it almost seems an exercise in futility. It’s important to Ian—he’s made it abundantly clear—that he’s my first and only man, so I need to consider that going forward. Ironic that in the beginning my virginity bothered him but it’s come to be something he highly values. Still… he’s made no commitment to me nor have I to him. Do I even want a commitment so early in the game? I’m only twenty-three.
I open my eyes the next morning and realize I’m immobilized. The reason why becomes clear quickly: Ian has his arms and legs wrapped tightly around me—even in his sleep he restrains me! If I as much as take a deep breath, I’ll wake him. I crane my neck to see his face just above my head and he wears such a serene expression that I don’t have the heart to smack him upside the head, as I almost certainly should. I remain in my human cage for a few more minutes, using the time to think and trying not to dwell on the fact that my nose is itchy.
I will call Lucien and accept the job. It means I’ll have to stay in New York to interview the Picasso woman. Lucien had mentioned that he has a film crew on standby for the purpose. After, I can go back to Portland and try to conduct as much research there as possible, using my laptop and the library. At some point, I may have to do more travel but that’s fine. I sigh, realizing that if I stay with Ian in whatever this thing we have going is, it means many more fights on the horizon and the thought is depressing.
“Why the frown?”
He startles me: I thought he was still asleep. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
Inhale, Ella, and just go for it, I tell myself. “The logistics of my new job.”
I can feel his whole body stiffen around me. “So you are taking it, then?”
“Yes.” The least said the better, I think. I dare a peek at his face.
He looks pissed: his jaw is clenched and his eyes narrowed—quite a marked difference from the sleeping angel of a few minutes ago. “I see. I need to go to Tokyo next weekend and I thought to ask you to accompany me. Is that at all possible if you accept the position?”
“I’m not sure, Ian. I’ll have to stay in New York to do that interview that Lucien has been waiting for. That might take me past the weekend…”
“Too bad. It would have been nice to have you along. This will be only the second time I’ve visited Japan—it would be wonderful to have you there to sightsee with me.”
“Oh, I would love that, actually.” I know I shouldn’t feel guilty one tiny bit… but I do. I really do. Stupid, I know.
He says nothing, just swings his long legs over the side of the bed to get up. I watch his lean, graceful body as he stretches. Lean but powerful. Ah. The glory of young men is in their strength. He turns to see me ogling him and gifts me with a small smile. “Shall we go out to breakfast or call for room service?”
“Go out, I think. I want to see more of the city.”
“Okay. I’m getting in the shower.”
I surprise him in the shower, tiptoeing in silently, and grab him from behind… but he’s waiting for me, the sneak. In one fluidly efficient motion, he spins me around, pins my arms over my head, pushes me against the wall, and rams into me as the water turns scorching, scalding us both.
“Too hot!” I yelp and he turns up the cold water with his knee.
“Are you mine, Ella?” His face leans heavily on my cheek, his lips on my ear; I can’t escape any part of him.
Panting, I try to avoid answering.
“Ella, answer the question.” He continues thrusting his hips forcefully, making any coherent thought impossible. With one hand he’s holding my wrists, the other is brutally gripping my right hip, holding me in place.
“Right now I am.” I move forward, rest my face on the cool tile: I want to concentrate on feeling rather than thinking.
He falls silent then, instinct swamping intellect, and I fall with him, switching off my mind to revel in the physical wonder of what boy plus girl can equal.
“Ella, fantastic news! I’m excited,” Lucien says as I reach him in Paris a few hours later. “In the paperwork I gave you yesterday, you’ll find the contact information for both my crew and the interview subject. Her name is Maya St. Sauveur and she promised me that she’ll be back in the city by Tuesday afternoon. If you can shoot the interview, I think you can probably head back out west afterward. Also, can you sign the contract and send a copy to my New York address, as well as to my attorney’s office that’s listed on the back of the contract?
“Absolutely. I noticed you provided a list of questions you’d like me to ask her. Do you want me to go beyond those or adhere strictly to the script?”
“At your discretion, Ella. As long as you cover my questions, feel free to ask your own—within the bounds of the subject matter, but I know I don’t have to tell you that. I included a DVD of some of the interviews I’ve already taped of others so you can get a feel for how to approach it.”
“Oh, that helps. Alright, I’ll spend tomorrow reviewing all the material and getting ready for Tuesday.”
“Great. I’ll be back in the States before the end of the month. Will you be able
to return to New York at that time so we can work with the editor on the new footage and perhaps splice it with the others?”
“Not a problem, Lucien. I’m really looking forward to this project. Do you have a projected completion date?”
“We’re aiming for end of March so it can go into post-production and be ready for release May one.”
“That seems like plenty of time. Okay, I don’t want to keep you on the phone, Lucien, so I’m going to compile a list of questions and email them to you—that way you can answer at your leisure. Sound good?”
“Perfect, Ella. I’ll look forward to it. Enjoy your stay in New York—there’s no better city in the world… except maybe for Paris.”
“Thanks, I will. Bye, Lucien.” I disconnect and try to avoid looking across the table at Ian. I don’t need to look because I can feel his eyes on me, hostility radiating out like an atomic cloud threatening to engulf me.
Focusing his attention on his breakfast, Ian says nothing but I can feel the tension charging the air between us. “When do you have to leave for Tokyo?” I ask, after about five minutes of no conversation.
“I have meetings lined up for Tuesday and Wednesday, so I should probably leave sometime on Saturday, which will give me a day to acclimate.”
“Assuming I can’t come with you, will you stay to sightsee or return home after your meetings?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve made no plans yet. Since things are frenetic right now at Excalibur, I probably should come right home.”
I nod. Excalibur is the name of his umbrella enterprise, which is a holding company for all the smaller ones in which he owns majority stock. Apparently, his first company, named eponymously, went belly up about five years ago, which is when he established Excalibur. “I should know by Tuesday or so how long I have to stay in New York. Tomorrow I’ll get up to speed on my new job and I’ll pop over to see Mo Jackson, my agent.
Once Ian gets over his snit, we end up having the most fantastic time together. He is so relaxed and charming when taken out of his element, and we have a leisurely day visiting Hayden’s Planetarium and the Empire State building. It’s after four when we get back to the hotel and decide to have a drink at the hotel bar. Because the weather is chilly and damp, Ian orders us each an Irish coffee and then finds a quiet corner table. I spend a moment feeling grateful for the little joys in life, such as a hot drink and a beautiful man’s strong, warm hand holding mine.