But she couldn't come—she just could not. She wanted to arch her back, roll her hips, the familiar way her body reacted to Elijah's touch. But those movements sent her off balance, and she tensed. Each time she lost her balance, each time she regained control, her inability to come—and her frustration—grew.
Drops of sweat fell from her face, more ran down between her thighs. She was whimpering now, her bitten lip bleeding freely, drops of blood mixing with the sweat on the carpet. She ran her tongue over her lip, the hot coppery taste filling her with something strange and primal feeling, half-familiar, something from a dream.
Elijah's fingers were still inside her, and he'd found that magic spot that drove her wild. She was shaking violently now, mouth open, breath rasping from her throat. The arousal inside her had reached a fever pitch, the desire—the absolute need—to come consuming her.
The next slap set her tender skin on fire and she screamed, rocking forward on her toes, fighting to hold herself from stepping forward, rising up, arms coming up from her back, body threatening to betray her. She bent her knees, crying freely now, the pain on her skin searing, her shoulders throbbing. Slowly, achingly slowly, she brought her heels down to the floor.
From somewhere behind her she heard Elijah's breath, almost as loud as hers. His hand rested on her ass, softly, gently moving over her skin, the hellish pain sinking deep between her thighs. It was as if he were drawing the heat inside her with his other hand, pulling the pain, changing it.
She was sobbing now, her body locked in this terrible but wonderful place, thrumming on the edge, the desire to come wiping everything from her mind.
"Skye." He took his fingers from inside her, and she cried out, her body feeling empty. Then she felt his warmth on her back, the press of his body against her ass, her thighs. She realized he was naked, as the hot shaft of his cock slid against her flaming skin.
"God, Skye." He set his hands on her hips, fingers digging into her flesh. "You're so beautiful, your ass is so red, so hot. I can feel it against me."
His words were low, his voice seductive, and he moved and shifted behind her, forcing his cock between her clenched thighs. She longed to spread her legs, to let him into her, but she didn't—couldn't. She was under obedience.
But he was entering her, thrusting between her thighs, slipping into her center. He sunk home, his cock filling her completely, his balls hitting her bruised skin, setting it afire again. She gasped, falling forward, unable to stop this time. Elijah grabbed her hips, pulling her back against him as he thrust forward.
As soon as she felt his hands on her, supporting her, everything came together. She arched, head thrown back, giving voice to her inner desires.
Her body shuddered, not from tension, but with pleasure—exquisite pleasure, deeper, more intense than anything she'd ever felt before. She gave into it, letting it wash through her, consume her.
As intense as this was, she never lost herself, like she had so many times before. If anything, every sensation in her body was magnified, intensified. Every thing around her, the carpet beneath her feet, the feel of the silk biting into her skin, everything came out in stark detail.
Elijah was driving into her, his body slamming against her, driving her forward and she had no choice but to take a step forward. His weight pressed against her, pushing her down, and she fell forward, crying out as she went down.
But Elijah held her, guiding her, until she landed on her knees, Elijah thudding onto the floor behind her. He took one hand from her hips, pushing her forward until her cheek rested on the carpet. With her ass in the air, her face on the floor, Elijah's thrusts took on a new urgency, hitting her in a different way. Sending her spinning in a totally new direction.
The orgasm that had flooded through her flared to life again and she arched her back, her knees sliding on the carpet.
Behind her, Elijah buried himself, his grunts growing louder. She smiled, letting him ride her, reading his movements and sounds, the subtle change in pitch, the shift of his hips. Even though they'd been here a hundred times before, the power of what they did together took her breath away.
And the power of what they were doing reached its peak as Elijah thrust hard, cried out, and she felt the warm rush of him filling her. The wet heat flooded through her, and she gasped, joining him for one last orgasmic rush. It was enough—it was perfect. And it sent her into that space only she could reach, the only place Elijah couldn't quite follow. She thought she screamed.
"Skye? Hey, babe."
She kept her eyes closed. He was holding her, cradling her, gently chafing her wrists. From the prickly feel against her ass, they were still on the floor. She'd been gone long enough this time for him to untie her wrists and get comfortable. She opened one eye, looking up at him.
"Hey." The word came out a hoarse croak. She coughed, tried again. "What happened?"
"You. That's what happened." He brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead. The damp strand stuck to her skin. "We really need to have you start pulling your hair back."
"Yes, Master." She was suddenly, amazingly tired, and tried to lift her hand to stifle a massive yawn. But her shoulders ached, felt like they weighed a ton. Wincing, she shifted in Elijah's arms.
She felt the rumble of his laugh against her cheek. "We're done, Skye. You're not under obedience. But we need to get you off the floor. Can you stand?"
Her eyelids were drifting shut again, and she nodded. "Yeah. I'm good." She tried to get her legs to move, but they were just as leaden as her arms, and refused to cooperate.
"You're not, come on." He shifted her gently, and then he was carrying her to the bed. With infinite care, he set her on the cool sheets. It was mercy to feel them against her heated ass, but it sent a shiver through her.
"You want a blanket?" He grabbed a clean pair of sweats off a chair and pulled them on. Her eyes drifted over his body. Post-scene—post-sex—he was relaxed, his body movements still graceful, but somehow less controlled. She loved him during scenes, but this part of Elijah was special. This part belonged only to her.
"Yes, please. Blue, if it's clean." She coughed again, blinked, stretched, and reached for a pillow. It would be clean; Elijah knew it was her favorite. Gingerly she pushed up on one elbow, watching as he rummaging through a box under the bed. He emerged with a light blue blanket, soft as a kiss.
"Did I scream? I don't remember."
"Like a banshee." Glancing up, he grinned. "I might have to install soundproofing, or the neighbors are going to start calling the police."
"No wonder I have no voice."
"Here, sit up." He helped her sit up and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. Then he climbed onto the bed, letting her rest against his shoulder.
"How's your ass?"
"Sore. It's supposed to be, right?" She pulled the blanket around her, the smell of laundry soap and fabric softener mixing with the scent of the sex rising around her. It was a lush, heady smell and she inhaled deeply.
"It is." He stroked her hair. "You were amazing. Really amazing. How did it feel?"
He'd asked her this before, when she'd gone away from him, what it felt like. There really were no words to describe it. Sometimes she couldn't remember, sometimes there were only flashes of memory, of arching against Elijah, of her body shuddering under him, the sensations that flooded her body. But when she came back, she felt amazing, relaxed in a way nothing else could do to her.
She always tried to tell him, wanted to share this with him, even if the words were inadequate.
"It was… like running really hard, or… no. More like trying to learn a new piece on the piano. Trying to get every note right, struggling with it. And then, suddenly, it's there. It's beautiful and perfect and amazing. And I did it—except it's you that did it."
"It's you, all you, Skye. I can't do this without you." He went silent for a minute, and she listened to the soft thudding of his heart. It soothed her in a way nothing else could.
&n
bsp; Something was keeping her awake though, a thought in the back of her mind. Then it all came back and her eyes popped open.
"You tricked me though." She sat up, shoulders protesting, and turned to look up at him. For a brief second he managed to look genuinely surprised, but then his lip lifted in a half-smile. He shrugged, but she wasn't buying it. He'd never been able to lie to her, or keep secrets. Birthdays and Christmas almost drove him insane.
"You knew what that was going to be like for me, didn't you? How hard it would be?"
He shrugged again, but his smile told her she was right.
"I did." He traced a finger along her lip, brows knitting together. "You bit your lip."
Until he said it, she'd forgotten. Exploring the spot with her tongue, she closed her eyes, tasting the coppery residue of blood. It stung, but it each flare of pain was like a jolt to her body. This was something she wanted to savor, but later, when she was alone.
"It's not so bad. And you're changing the subject. Confess. You did it on purpose."
His face relaxed. "Yeah, I'll admit it. I tricked you. But it was worth it, wasn't it?"
"It was. It was worth every second."
"Besides, if I'm going to spank you, I want a full view of that beautiful backside of yours. And bent over." He shifted beneath her and she thought she felt his erection poking her hip.
"Why?"
"Why? Why do I love that view?"
"Tell me what you see." She wanted to know what it was like for him, but she just wanted to hear his voice, to feel the deep rumble in his chest as he spoke.
"You're beautiful. The way your skin changes, from pale, such perfect pale skin. Like cream. I want to lick you like cream. And then I spank you, and my hand touches all that beautiful skin. And it's soft, so soft." His hips flexed beneath her and she smiled.
"Then it changes, the color I mean. You turn pink, and I can see each hand print, each finger outlined in pink on your skin. The longer, the harder, and they start to blur. And then you start to glow."
Curling in the blanket, she rested her head against his shoulder. She was tired, a good tired, tired to the bone. But she was safe and warm and with Elijah.
"You need some aloe." His voice sounded distant, too distant.
She was moving, or being moved, she couldn't tell the difference. There was something cool—the pillow—beneath her cheek. Struggling up out of the intoxicating depths of sleep, she reached for him, touched only sheet and air.
"Don't go."
"I'm not. I'm right here." He was closer, his voice almost in her ear. "Just something cool."
There was the gentle scent of aloe, then coolness on her heated skin. It roused her for a minute and she stretched until she was lying flat on her stomach. Elijah's hands moved over her ass so softly she could barely feel them. All she could really feel was coolness spreading over her.
"Elijah." To her ears, her voice sounded thick. "Elijah, thank you."
"For what, love?"
She didn't think he was touching her anymore, but she couldn't tell where she ended and the bed started. But it didn't matter in the least. This feeling was just as wonderful as where she went after sex.
"For tricking me. For making it better than it would have been."
"It would have been amazing, not matter what happened." The mattress dipped beside her, and the subtle warmth of Elijah lying beside her washed over her. "You make it better. You make it all happen."
His kiss on her shoulder was soft. She smiled, and then everything faded into soft darkness.
Chapter 15
Today was something new, for both of them. Elijah had told her only that much, nothing more. But new meant exciting. And exciting, for her, usually meant amazing.
His footsteps on the stairs seemed to be a little faster than usual, and she was glad she'd gotten into position before she'd heard him. This was an important day, and she wanted everything to be perfect for him.
"You may rise, Skye."
She rose instantly, even though he hadn't opened the door. But she kept her eyes lowered, looking at his bare feet on the carpet. He was wearing the faded jeans she loved. It was hard to keep her eyes down, not to let them drift up, to take in every inch of him, the way the denim rested on his narrow hips, cupped the sensuous curve of his ass. Outlined his cock perfectly when he was erect.
"You're under obedience. Look at me."
She raised her eyes slowly, taking in as much of him as she could without taking too long. He was bare-chested, all beautiful smooth skin. But then she blinked in surprise. There were marks on his chest, tiny red marks. She gasped, eyes widening, meeting his gaze. The look in his eyes told her nothing and she quickly closed her mouth, and from habit dropped her eyes.
"Look at me, Skye."
She looked nowhere else but at his face. "Yes, Master."
For a moment he just held her gaze, one eyebrow cocked. Again, she could not read anything in his face, nothing behind that handsome exterior. One corner of his mouth lifted in that sexy smile that sent a shiver through her.
"I'm going to blindfold you." From his back pocket he pulled a length of black silk. "I want this to be a surprise."
The excitement in his voice was contagious and she nodded despite being under obedience. For once, he didn't reprimand her.
"This is going to be so awesome, Skye. You're going to love this."
The last glimpse she had was of him smiling, like he did on Christmas morning, waiting for her to open her presents. And then everything went softly dark.
There was the click of the latch, and the breeze against her legs as Elijah opened the door.
"Enter, Skye."
Seven steps in, stop, align her toes, the exact correct space between them. Square her shoulders, head down. Without looking, she knew she was within inches of being on her mark. Blindfolded, Elijah didn't require her to hit it exactly, but she knew she was almost spot on with her toes against the edge of the big rose on the carpet.
There was another breeze against her, probably Elijah moving past. Then she inhaled the scent of his aftershave—and the warm scent of him—and smiled. Her breath came up short, as it always did, as she stood and waited. She wondered sometimes if he knew what it was like for her, to stand and wait, to know he was going to do something amazing to her—for her. For them.
"This is why we haven't been up here for a few days." There was a thunk, metal clanking, a grunt from Elijah, the sound of something heavy being moved. She closed her eyes, swallowed hard. A rush of adrenaline flooded her body, wetness pooling between her legs.
He touched her shoulder, and despite endless practice, she jumped. But there was no reprimand. Whatever this surprise was, it was big enough for him to give her some slack.
"I'm taking off the blindfold." His fingers tangled briefly in her hair, and then the silk slid away from her face. This time there was no holding back her cry of surprise—and pleasure.
"You're not under obedience, Skye." He put his hand briefly on her back, nudging her forward. She glanced down; her toes were just shy of their mark, and she took a half step forward.
Then she looked up again. In front of her stood a St. Andrew's cross, made of dark wood. It was massive, dwarfing the bed, the arms almost reaching the ceiling. On each arm were padded leather restraints, another at the middle of the cross, presumably for her waist.
"What do you think? Do you like it?" Elijah stepped around her, walking up to the cross. He ran a hand over one of the arms, fingers playing over the dark wood with a lover's touch. She'd seen the look on his face before, when he was tying knots. He was in love with this new toy, very much in love.
"I think it's beautiful." Even though she wasn't under obedience, she stayed where she was, her toes perfectly aligned as she'd been taught. "When did you get it?"
"The day you worked late. I tried so hard to make sure you weren't home when it was delivered." He turned back to her. And it was clear by the look on his face he was anxious to get thi
s scene started.
"Remember, this is new. For both of us. The safe word?"
"Flowers, Master." She'd only come close to using it once or twice before, but he always asked. And it always sent a rush of love through her. It was such a simple thing, but it spoke volumes about how he felt, how her safety came first, always, forever.
"Good. You're under obedience again. Come." He flicked two fingers in her direction. She moved forward, feet placed just so. He pointed to the cross.
"Face forward, arms up."
The wood was cool against her skin, the wood so smooth it could have been covered in satin. She wanted to run her hands over the wood, over and over. For a moment, she had the overwhelming desire to hook her leg over one of the lower arms, to rub against it, to feel it against the tender skin of her inner thighs.
Elijah took her hand, pulling it up into place, wrapping the padded leather around her wrist. It took him a moment to buckle it, testing it to see it would hold her. It was odd to see him fumble, but she knew the next time he'd have mastered the buckles. He repeated this with the other arm, then had her spread her legs, wrapping the leather around her ankles.
He was so close, his breath moving over her thighs, against her ass. For a moment she imagined he'd kiss her, but he was focused on the technical parts of this new device, and she knew that turned him on almost as much as play, almost as much as she did.
He didn't attach the waist strap, and she wondered if he'd forgotten. But she mentally shook her head; Elijah never forgot anything. Maybe it was for some other reason.
"I'm going to start. This is what I'm going to use." He walked around the front of the cross so she could see. In his hand was something she'd only seen online, or at conventions. It was a flogger, a beautiful thing with a polished black wooden handle and dozens of long black leather strands. It swished as he moved it, the sound soft, like the hiss of a snake. But it was a snake she very much wanted to bite her, to feel its sting.
Holding Skye Page 10