She stared at it in the dim light, at the nicks and scrapes along the painted handle, wondering if he carried this knife while on deployment. If he’d ever used it to hurt someone.
Cal flicked the knife open with the ease born of lots of practice. “Don’t,” he said, “move.”
She didn’t.
She held completely still as the knife moved between her legs and the tip pricked carefully at the sensitive skin where thigh met cunt. And then his fingers withdrew, wrapped around the crotch of her leotard, and with a swift cut, her leotard was cut open.
The knife was folded, put away, and then Cal’s fingers tugged her leotard up past her hips. She was fully exposed now, so exposed that all any stranger had to do was look at her and they’d see her nakedness. See the wet place where Cal’s fingers were once again buried. See the hard points of her nipples through her leotard and the flush on her face and the tense lines of her thighs where she strained to hold them open.
“Someone might see,” she said, and she wasn’t sure if it was in a tone of protest or wonder.
“I want them to see,” Cal answered. “I want them to see what a little deviant you are.”
She tried to think of a response to that and she couldn’t. His touch felt so good and the way he fingered her—slow curls inside coupled with the press of his palm on her clit—had her insensate. She was going to come soon. And hard.
“Let’s play a game,” he growled into her ear.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“The game is that you have to do what I say, when I say it. And if you don’t, I’ll tell your father where you’ve been sneaking off to all these nights.”
She shivered. It didn’t take much imagination to recall the feeling of her father’s blows. “Is…is the game real?”
Cal paused before answering. “Do you really want to know?”
No. It was fucked up for sure, but the very real threat of her father finding out made the whole thing feel so much more…delicious.
“No,” she said, feeling certain of this one thing at least. “Don’t tell me.”
His hand withdrew from her folds again, and when she looked over at her shoulder at him, he was sucking her taste off his fingers, his eyes hooded. “You taste sweet, princess. Just like a little ballerina should. Let’s see if you look that way too.” And before she could protest—not that she would have anyway—she was pushed unceremoniously forward between his legs. He pushed her just fast enough for her to gasp, just slow enough that she could easily get her arms out in front of her and catch her weight.
It was a ridiculous position, all things considered—her hands flat on the floor, head hanging down, ass still secure in his lap. Thank God she was flexible enough to be comfortable like this. But then she felt his fingers run glancingly up her cunt to her ass and she realized this position wasn’t ridiculous at all. It was decidedly and definitely humiliating—which made it perfect. Leaning all the way forward like this meant that her ass and pussy were open for Cal’s viewing, and view them he did.
“Oh, your pussy looks so sweet too,” he said. “Pink like your slippers.”
“Oh,” she breathed as he took his thumbs and spread her folds. It was so fucking degrading, the air so cool on flesh that was usually hidden and protected.
“Don’t squirm, sweetheart. You’re letting me do whatever I want, remember?”
“Yes, I remember,” she managed from down by the floor.
A sharp smack on her ass. “Damn straight, you do.” Then the thumbs returned, spreading her even more. “Like a pretty pink butterfly,” Cal said with something between gruff wonder and lust. “I can’t wait to fuck it.”
“You’re…you’re going to fuck me?”
“Of course I am. I get to do anything I want with you. I’ve caught a little butterfly—I’ve caught you—and I’m not letting you go until I’m finished.”
She shuddered at his words, at the wrongness, at the sharp feelings of desire they stirred up in her.
“That’s right, sweetheart. You don’t have a choice, not if you want me to behave. You be good for me, I’ll be good for you, got it?
And then a thumb moved up higher, kneading gently at the little rosebud between her cheeks. “This is such a very pretty pink too,” he murmured. “How good for me are you going to be tonight?”
She’d never done…that…never been with someone she trusted enough to do that, and yet the idea of doing it for the first time with a man like Cal was exciting on an order of magnitude she’d never felt before. She decided to be brave in their game too.
“I’ll do anything you want,” she said, and she didn’t even have to work to make her voice pleading. “Just please don’t tell my dad.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Cal grunted. A finger pushed back into her pussy, and he chucked darkly. “I knew you were a dirty one.” And with strength she knew he had but was still shocking to feel, he wrapped his hands around her hips and raised her easily to his mouth.
“Oh God,” she moaned. His tongue was so strong, his lips so firm. His sucks and licks so greedy. And then he left her cunt to trace wet circles around her anus, and her entire body shivered in filthy delight.
So wrong.
So, so wrong.
“You’re going to let me inside you now,” he demanded, and when she panted out an answering, “Yes,” she thought that he’d take her right then and there in the chair. But he didn’t. With an easy movement, he stood and slung her over his shoulder and carried her out of the public playroom.
“Where are we going?” she asked, lifting her head so she could try to get her bearings. They were in the hallway of private playrooms, dark wood doors leading off into private dens of sex.
“To the place where I’m going to fuck you,” Cal said without inflection, producing a key from his pocket and unlocking a door.
“Are you a member here?” she asked.
“Not exactly. But I do enough work for them that it wasn’t hard for me to get a room tonight.” He opened the door, kicked it shut with his foot, and then dropped her unceremoniously on the massive king bed that dominated the room.
She stared at him from her new position on the bed, watching him stalk around the room, hitting lights, searching through drawers. “Are you looking for…” She didn’t know if the word would insult him, but she said it anyway “…toys?”
He laughed at that, a low, dark laugh that curled her toes. “I don’t need toys to play, sweetheart. I’m not a little boy.”
No, he was not.
“I’m looking for condoms,” he clarified, sliding open a drawer and finding a well organized stash. He selected one with two careful fingers and then turned to face her with that hard expression that turned her on so much. “Spread your legs so I can see you while I get ready.”
She bit her lip and obeyed, daring to offer, “You don’t have to, you know. Wear a condom.”
His eyes had been on her cunt before that, but now they slid up to her face, and his handsome face looked almost…sad?
“Time out,” he said. “Time out from the game.” And then he sat on the bed next to her and pulled her hand into his giant one. The touch nearly made her tremble from its sheer gentleness; she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had held her hand, except while dancing. She had the strange urge to press her face against his knuckles, to curve and coil around his hand and snuggle her face against it for weeks. And she had the even stranger feeling that he would allow her, that he would stroke her head until she fell asleep, that he would cover her with blankets and then wrap his large body around hers to keep her safe and warm the whole night through.
His other hand reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and his fingers lingered there. “Are you on birth control?” he asked.
She shook her head slowly. “No, but my period hardly ever comes. I’m sure I can’t get pregnant.”
He gave her a rueful smile. “That’s not good enough. You have an entire
career in ballet ahead of you. I’m guessing a pregnancy now would ruin that.”
She felt a childish need to defend herself, but he pressed a finger to her lips, his face growing stern again. “I’m not risking it, Tamsin. You are worth so much more than that. Game back on.”
You are worth so much more than that.
It was stupid how much those words bit into her, got into her bloodstream and endocrine system and kicked hormones and hopes into high gear.
He released her hand with a squeeze and stood again, hiking his T-shirt up his back and pulling it off with the perfunctory grace of a long-term bachelor. Like he was used to undressing fast and easy, without thinking of how he’d look to anyone watching. It was fascinating to Tamsin; everything about how she moved was about how she would look doing it. Every step, every turn, every sweep of the hand…it was all for the audience, for the junction of music and soul and the Other.
But Cal—he just moved. Just got from Point A to Point B with a directness that had its own kind of beauty. And once his shirt was off, Tamsin found it hard to think about movement or aesthetics or anything else, because his body was magnificent. Incredible. Not just the hard, flat stomach or the broad chest or those mouthwatering lines that disappeared under his belt, but the hair and the scars and the history of it. He wore his experience and age on his skin, and it made Tamsin feel so soft and unspoiled and young. The contrast left her panting, wanting, craving.
Then he started working open his belt with one hand and she knew what craving really was. Craving was flipping over on her hands and knees to crawl to the edge of the bed for a better look. Craving was that tight, hot feeling in her cunt, that sharp puckering of her needy nipples, that sudden feeling of vacancy low in her core.
“I thought I told you to spread your legs,” he said, noticing her rapt expression. “You want to make me happy or not?”
Oh, right. Yes. Shit.
She scrambled to be on her back once more, and he grunted again, this time in approval. He opened his pants and stepped out of them with the same efficiency as earlier, revealing a pair of black boxer briefs. And even before he pulled them off, she could see the head of his cock peeping over the waistline, looking swollen and angry.
She actually exhaled in shock when he pulled the briefs off, which earned her another pleased grunt. She couldn’t help her reaction, though: Cal was big. Cal was very big. It only made sense given the size of the rest of him, but it still intimidated her to see the real length and girth of him, to see how it bobbed and swung under its own weight.
“You’re big,” she whispered.
Cal gave her a look. “And you’re small.”
For the first time since they started playing this game, Tamsin felt real hesitation. She wasn’t a virgin and she wasn’t a stranger to men, but Cal was something more. It wasn’t just the thick cock now getting sheathed in shiny latex with a few practiced strokes; it was the thick cock plus him. Plus Cal and all his hardness and his experience.
Plus the game.
Make him happy.
Instinct sent her scooting up to the top of the bed as he approached, that shiny, blood-dark erection nodding between them as he walked to the bed. “Nervous?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Good.”
He crawled onto the bed, crawled like a huge cat slinking closer to its prey, and grabbed her ribbon-wrapped ankles, yanking her farther down so he could cover her entire body with his own. Chest to leotard-covered chest, thigh to thigh, her silk slippers against the dark hair of his shins. He felt huge on top of her like this, not just long but wide and heavy, and she could feel the coiled strength in every fiber of him as he held the bulk of his weight on his arms.
She expected him to thrust into her, to spread her legs and push inside, but he didn’t. He did something even more shocking.
He kissed her.
With his cock hard and pressing against her thigh, he brushed his lips over hers, starting at the corners of her mouth and working towards the middle. And when she parted her lips in surprise, he took advantage, sweeping his tongue in to taste hers, licking inside her mouth with abandon. His kisses swarmed her senses, a dazzling array of light and fluttering mixed with hard and possessive, and finally he reached a hand under her neck to tilt her head just right, and then his mouth slanted fully over hers, firm and demanding.
The erection against her felt hot and needy, grinding against her skin as Cal took his time with her mouth. He kissed her like it was his first kiss in years, like he hadn’t had a woman underneath him in far too long, and he was determined to brutally savor every single second of this.
And indeed, when he pulled back to blink those dark green eyes at her, there was nothing but determination in his face. Nothing but more hunger around the kiss-swollen lines of his mouth.
“Am I making you happy so far?” she asked, daring to reach up and touch his jaw. The stubble scratched at her fingers, a scratch she felt everywhere, rasping through her fingertips and reverberating down her spine.
He stared at her, and his voice was surprisingly gentle when he said, “Yes, Tamsin. You’re making me very happy.”
The game wavered for a moment as they stared at each other, and Cal caught her hand on his cheek, bringing her fingers to his mouth to kiss. She gazed up at him as his lips caressed every knuckle, every flat and pad of her fingers. She didn’t know how he could flip those switches inside himself, from degrading her to treasuring her, but she never wanted him to stop. It fascinated her, awakened something thrilling and alive. All her life she’d been treated like a china doll, a replica of her dead mother, a vehicle for her father’s own wasted dreams. But Cal didn’t look at her and see a ghost or a doll. He saw her.
Even as she had these thoughts, he seemed to come around to himself again, giving a hard shove against her thigh with his dick. “You say ‘stop’ if you want me to stop,” he instructed her. And then he pinned both of her wrists above her head, put a knee between her thighs, and thrust inside.
It was an invasion, a forcing, but God, no invasion had ever felt this good. Like he was trying to wedge his body inside her, like all of him was pushing against the most delicate parts of her flesh, and everything in that moment, from the rough hair on his thighs to his weight on her chest to his huge hands trapping her wrists above her head, served to remind her how powerful he was, how big, how male.
It hurt, in the best way, the kind of stretch and push that she could feel everywhere—her inner thighs, her chest, the arches of her feet. With a grunt, he shoved in deeper, making her cry out and bow up against him.
“Yeah,” he said, “like that.” And he thrust again and again, hard and ungentle, his eyes searching her face for signs of pain or hesitation. He wouldn’t see anything of the sort, Tamsin knew that for a fact, because she felt nothing of the sort. If she felt pain, it was only the kind that made her crave more. If she felt hesitation, it was only that she worried this would be over too fast, that Cal would empty himself and walk away and that would be the last time she ever felt so alive.
“I’ll do whatever you want,” she breathed up at him. “You can make me do anything.”
“I know,” he said with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I know I can.” He let go of her wrists and slid a hand under one of her thighs to raise it up to his hip, opening her up to deeper thrusts. His other hand he curled behind her neck, holding her head in place so he could brutalize her with more kisses, deep ones this time. He was pressing her into the mattress, a wall of hot muscle and firm flesh, and she used her newly freed hands to explore all of his body that she could reach. The furred expanse of his chest, the hard muscle of his back. The strong lines of his neck and shoulders.
“Wanna feel you come,” he grunted, breaking away from her mouth. “How do I make you come?”
She felt strangely touched that he asked—none of the young men she’d been with had ever asked that. She was never fucking a boy her age again if this was what it w
as like to fuck an older man.
“My nipples,” she said. “If you could suck—”
Before she’d finished, Cal had them both up and moving, and then she found herself in his lap, being impaled on his massive cock. Her head went back as she let out a long moan—this position pushed and stretched new places, and almost immediately she could feel the new tension curling around her womb, tugging at her lungs and spine.
Cal divested her of her leotard with the same perfunctory movements as he’d used to undress himself. And then before she could even adjust to being fully seated on him or to her new nakedness, his head was bent and a hot, wet mouth was closing over one aching nipple. He sucked and Tamsin arched to push her breast into his face. He bit and her toes curled. He moved to the other one, sucking and licking, his hands now on her back to hold her close to his face while he worked.
His stubble burned and scratched at her small breasts as she began moving her hips over him, struggling to breathe properly through the sensations crowding her nervous system. His thick length buried inside her, her clit against the hard muscle of his groin. The suction of his mouth and the chafe of his stubble. Each rock of her hips brought her closer and closer, but it was the demanding tugs of his mouth on her nipples that sent her over the edge. With a choked whimper, she came, the orgasm seeming too big to come from just inside her body. It felt like it came from everywhere, like the planets and the stars had realigned themselves just to ignite this thing.
“Fuck,” Cal muttered, raising his face so he could watch hers as she fell apart. “Fucking hell, princess.”
She was still shuddering with delight, still contracting around him. “Cal,” she whispered, but that was it, that was all she had.
He waited until she was finished, holding her close and letting her work herself on his cock however she needed to make it through her climax. And then when her body finally, finally stilled, he murmured, “You come like you dance.”
“How is that?” she said, burying her face in the strong curve of his neck.
“Like magic.”
And then she was on her back again, him moving over her like a beast, rutting into her so hard and fast that a second orgasm stirred itself from the ashes of the first, biting into her with claws and teeth until she released with an agonized moan of ecstasy.
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