by Paula Cox
“Take my cock out and worship it, slut,” he instructed once she was kneeling at his feet. Slut. The word said by anyone else was offensive, dirty, but he used it ironically with her. She’d been a virgin when they met, and he started calling her his slut, his whore, once this aspect of their sexual nature began. It was, to Eliza, as endearing as any other pet name, but she refused to ever let anyone else use it against her.
Eyes alight with joy, she surged up and unbuckled his belt, then dug his hard cock out from beneath his black jeans. All in black today. Stern. Dominant. Authoritative. She loved when he wore all black—he was her shadow then, always with her.
He must have been as excited for the moment as she was, because the tip of his cock glistened with arousal, and she licked the bead off, savoring the salty taste briefly before taking him in her mouth. Once she had him, she placed her hands behind her back, knowing he preferred the feel of her mouth over the feel of her palms. And she did, too. This way was better. It made her wetter, taking him deep, her hands trapped by the invisible bonds of his gaze.
“You’ve been such a good girl this last week,” he purred, his fingers threading through her hair, as he started to pump in and out of her mouth. “Maybe today I’ll even let you come…”
She moaned at the thought, the vibrations of her voice undoubtedly making his thighs quiver. It seemed she was entirely in his power, given her current position, but Eliza had more control in the situation than anyone would expect. She knew how to work him now, her gorgeous mystery man, and she thrilled in giving him pleasure almost as much as she enjoyed receiving it in turn.
His hand tightened in her hair, hard, and she gagged when he pushed in deeper than usual, his pace fast and merciless. When they’d first started, she might have pushed him away, frightened by his strength, but now she concentrated on breathing, on watching him with watery eyes as he had his way with her.
“Oh, fuck it,” he hissed, pulling out of her mouth suddenly so fast that she gasped, her teeth clattering together. “You’re too good today, slut. I had so many plans to torment you here. My paddle is in my bag. The gag. The ropes. But I think I’ll just fuck you.”
“Thank you, Master,” she all but cried, trying to keep herself in check, as he hoisted her up and bent her over a nearby desk. Facing the door, she gripped the desk’s edge and bit her lip in an effort to stay quiet while he ripped her tights and yanked her underwear down. Sometimes he teased her, rubbing the head of his engorged cock along her wet slit, making her beg for him to fuck her. But not this time. No, he pushed into her with a grunt, filling her as she gave a heady cry.
“Not too loud, my petulant slut,” he said with a chuckle, finding a harsh and fast rhythm as he took her, “or someone will come in and find the dean’s daughter bent over a desk being fucked by a dirty biker.”
“Master!” she whimpered, arching up to take him in. Sweet release—it was all she craved. She’d been so good. So patient. “Please, please, please…”
“What do you…?” He trailed off, stilling inside her when the doorknob across the room rattled. No one ought to be scheduled in the classroom, or so he hoped, especially if he’d initially planned to do a more elaborate scene with her. They both waited with bated breath, the silence suffocating, until whoever was about to enter thought better of it.
Nash wrapped a hand over her mouth and resumed his previous pace, slamming into her and bringing her closer and closer to the release she craved.
“Maybe I should have gagged you,” he whispered in her ear. Although she couldn’t see it, she could picture the sinful curve of his lips, the devilish look in his eye. She whimpered again, and Nash laughed as he continued to fuck her, tossing her over the edge of bliss and using her until they were both spent…
Chapter 16
She was in heaven. Eliza had left her body and floated up to the clouds—and she never wanted to come down.
***
All of her limbs were tied, one to each bedpost, her body spread taut. Helpless. It had taken her a little while to understand why someone would voluntarily be a sub in the relationship dynamic, but now she understood. While she couldn’t move, barely an inch anyway, she was totally in Nash’s hands. Entirely in his control. It was a lot of faith to put in a person, a lot of power to give. He had a say in her pleasure, her pain, and he was always good about dolling out an equal amount of each.
They’d tried ropes a few times in the past, though clearly not as often as Nash would have liked. January crawled by, Eliza weighed down by school and life and the fear of the future, and Nash had gone back to being a little distant. Distracted. But at least now he always answered her text messages. So while he wasn’t always physically around when she wanted to see him, at least he had taken the hint and was better about being in touch.
It had been almost a week since he’d been over, and when he pulled out the ropes and quirked an eyebrow, all she could do was shiver and nod. It had started off the same as always: fierce kisses, his hands roaming her body as if he owned it, and Eliza on her knees to worship at the altar of Nash. Then, just as he’d worked her into a frenzy, her body a quivering mess and her words incoherent whiny mumbles, Nash hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her to the bedroom. Usually they played in the living room and kitchen areas, using all the counters and couch back and armrests and coffee table to their advantage. Nash was always incredibly creative with how he took her, and it quickly became apparent that tonight would be no different.
After depositing her gracelessly on the bed, tossing her like she was an irksome book bag, he instructed her to lay on her back and spread. She’d already been naked, her nipples at full attention and her thighs smeared with the wetness of her arousal, but the thought of spreading out for him brought heat to her skin, a lovely red blush trailing down her body. When she hadn’t complied fast enough, he’d pinched her thigh then flicked her feet, the one pain she genuinely disliked, and did as she was told. Her submissive thrill rose through her when she saw the look of heated satisfaction cross his features.
Normally, he just bound her hands. It was what she was comfortable with at that point, but tonight he’d tied her feet, too. The rope was tight—but not tight enough to stop circulation—around her ankles. The position had kept her spread for him, and once he had her securely in place, he explored her body, alternating between licking and nibbling as he saw fit, both making her twitch and moan and beg. When she wouldn’t keep quiet, he went to her underwear drawer and pulled out a clean pair, then stuffed it in her mouth, threatening to use the ones she’d been wearing, the ones covered in her own juices, if she couldn’t behave.
When he’d been through tormenting her with his mouth, he finally gave in and had his way with her, cock buried deep inside her, hands griping her hips so hard she was sure he’d leave marks. Good. She loved looking over the faded marks of their play the following day, knowing he’d done it because he was pleasuring them both in the process.
“Good girl,” he hissed as he pounded into her, a pleasurable tightening consuming her with every thrust. “Do you want to come?”
She nodded frantically, knowing he loved to watch her orgasm. Sometimes it happened. Sometimes it didn’t. Withholding her pleasure seemed to be something he enjoyed, too.
“Do you think you deserve to come?” Another enthusiastic nod, though she toned it down when his eyes narrowed. “Such a presumptuous slut.”
He tweaked a nipple, taking her harder as he leaned over her. She loved to be covered by him, to feel the weight of his body, never enough to feel crushing by any means, atop hers. It made her feel…safe.
One hand slipped under her body, traveling beneath her back as his hips continued to pound against hers, until it cupped the back of her neck.
“Do you remember your safe word?” Nash whispered, his voice no more than a growl of want. She almost came on the spot. When Eliza didn’t answer right away, he asked again, and she nodded, biting down on the cottony fabric in her mouth
. His pace slowed suddenly, fucking her with long, deep thrusts, and he added, “You can still say it gagged like that. I’ll know what you’re saying.”
Her brow furrowed a little. Why was he telling her that? She hadn’t had to use their agreed upon safe word yet, and she had no plans to do so anytime soon. However, when his other hand crept up and wrapped around her throat, squeezing harder than expected, she gave a little whimper of understanding. They’d discussed breath play before, and while she had no interest in fading to black, Eliza had said she was open to light choking—but only because at the time it seemed to make him happy.
But as his fist closed around her throat, the pleasure in her sex growing, she understood it. It made her more powerless in his grasp, more anxious in his hand. Eliza loved it. Her eyes widened as her breathing became more labored, her arms and legs straining against their bonds.
“Come for me, my sweet sub,” Nash whispered in her ear, grinding his pelvis over her clit, his cock buried deep inside. “Come for me, my perfect little slut.”
And she did. By God, did Eliza ever come. Just as the pleasure ripped through her, Nash removed his hand, letting her gasp down a much needed breath, and then he resumed his almost savage pace, taking her hard and fast, his arms wrapped around her.
It was the best orgasm so far—she actually saw stars, her body light and incredibly sensitive in the aftermath. And she would have never felt it without the trust, without the, dare she say it, love. She had every faith, every confidence, that Nash would push her but keep her safe.
Tied beneath him, spread tight, his cock pounding into her, Eliza acknowledged that this was precisely where she wanted to be.
***
She was perfect. He’d said so much while he urged her to come, though he couldn’t believe the words that had tumbled through his lips. He hadn’t meant to say something so intimate, but in the heat of the moment…
Well, in the heat of the moment Nash had fucked up. Royally. He’d fucked up from the moment he let this relationship carry on after he found her snooping on his phone. At first he’d thought she was trying to figure out who he was, or worse, spying for her dad. However, it became clear that Eliza was as innocent as they came, despite what she let him do to her in the bedroom, and at the time, she had been worried he had found someone else.
It should have told him that she was falling for him. Maybe he knew and just pretended not to, like some chicken shit too scared to break things off. All he knew was that he wanted her. He wanted to keep fucking her. She felt so good beneath him, so pliable and earnest and devoted. And here he was, investigating her dad for his motorcycle club, dragging her into his personal drama when she ought to steer clear.
She was too sweet for his life. Too good for the shit that he did. Too innocent to be tarnished by a fucker like him, and it pained him to think that. But how could he let her go? She’d just let him choke her as she came—and god damn, did she ever come. It was the best orgasm he’d ever seen her have, her little body trembling in its restraints, her face flushed and her eyes wide. He wanted to give her more, a dozen more tonight alone. He wanted to whisper awful things in her ear as he continued to fuck her, continued to make her more and more his plaything, his obedient submissive.
But he stopped dirty talking, stopped whispering. He buried his face in her neck and concentrated on finishing, the guilt a total mood killer. This wasn’t fair to her. He liked her too much as a person to bring her into his underworld. She belonged in the heavens, and it was by some miracle that Nash found her here amongst the mortals on Earth.
He couldn’t drag her down to Hell with him.
It just wasn’t fair. To use her like this, as a means to satisfy his own dark desires, it wasn’t right. No matter how much she seemed to enjoy it, how much she basked in his actions, Nash couldn’t deny the guilt bubbling up inside him.
He finished somewhat halfheartedly, his feverish thoughts getting the better of him. She’d let him choke her. She’d put her life in his hands, in that moment, with total trust and openness. Nash was exploiting it for his own purposes, and it had to stop.
But how?
Easing out of her, he made quick work of the ropes, knowing she’d be sore, and helped her up. Once she’d used the bathroom, he beckoned her back and massaged her undoubtedly aching arms and legs, vowing that he would stop.
And if he couldn’t stop outright, he’d ease away. He had to.
Very seldom in this life did Nash do what was “right”—but when it came to Eliza, it was only fair that he tried.
Chapter 17
“Thank you very much,” the waitress said, snapping the menus up and cradling them to her chest. She looked quite smart in her pressed pants and crisp collared white shirt. “I’ll have your wine brought out in a moment, followed by the appetizers.”
“Thank you.” Eliza tugged at her dress self-consciously, glad to be hidden beneath the table and in the somewhat darker booth. She could have dressed up a little more for the evening, but then again, Nash was wearing jeans and t-shirt, so it wasn’t all bad. Nibbling her lower lip, she glanced across the table at her dinner date, a little upset to see that he was still wearing the same scowl he’d donned when she first told him instead of going back to her apartment for a night of rough and amazing sex, she’d made dinner reservations instead.
“This place is cheaper than I thought it’d be,” he noted after a long, somewhat tense moment. Eliza let out a soft sigh when he leaned back against the clean leather backrest. It reflected the light of the candle in the middle of the table, the flame’s orange hue flickering on the matte surface.
“Thank you for agreeing to come,” she said, then swallowed hard. Her hands were wracked with a cold, nervous sweat, her stomach in so many knots that she was surprised she’d even ordered anything. The pasta dish sounded delicious in theory, but given the way she was feeling, there was no guarantee she’d have more than a few bites. “I wanted to go out tonight so we could talk.”
“And we can’t talk in your apartment?” He raised an eyebrow, his tone lacking its usual playfulness. Hell, it even lacked the authoritative quality that made her shiver, which wasn’t a good sign. Eliza shook her head.
“I wanted it to be done…differently,” she told him, a slight tremor in her voice. “I wanted…I want us to be done differently.”
He ran a hand through his hair, his expression darkening. “Eliza—”
“I know you don’t do relationships,” she said, adding air quotes around do for emphasis, “but things are changing between us and you can’t deny that. I care about you. A lot. And I think you care about me, too.”
She loved him, actually. Over these last few months, she’d fallen head-over-heels, but she refused to admit it aloud. Guys always joked about virgins getting attached, and she didn’t want Nash to think that just because he was the first guy to sleep with her that she was clinging to him for dear life. She’d fallen for him, as a person, with all the added baggage that she knew about him and his preferences. She owed it to herself to put her foot down again.
“Eliza, I do care about you, but—”
“Then we’re going to explore this relationship,” Eliza said firmly, leaving no room for arguments. He could walk away at any point, and while it would devastate her, the logical side of her brain knew that in the long run it would be better to be with a man who actually wanted to date her rather than just screw her a few nights a week. “We have a connection that I’ve never felt with anyone before, and it’s not because I was a virgin.”
She pressed her lips together, only realizing the waitress had reappeared with their wine just as she said virgin. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment, and she sat back in the booth, letting Nash handle the sample testing, and waited until the wine was poured and the waitress had fled.
“So is this an ultimatum?” he asked, his tone light as he brought his wine glass to his lips and took a quick sip. The noise level in the restaurant had increased since they s
at down some twenty minutes earlier, and she preferred it that way. Tucked away in their booth, she felt safe to talk to him, like no one else in the world could see or hear them.
“It’s not an ultimatum,” Eliza told him. “It’s a conversation about what I want and what I think you would like if you gave it a chance. You can of course walk away. I’m not going to force you to be with me.”
“You’d never have to do that…” He set the wine glass down and sighed heavily again, his eyes everywhere but her face. “Eliza, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“And I want to learn it. All of it.” Something swelled within her chest suddenly—something like hope. “I don’t care what it is. I want you just as you are.”
“You should care,” he muttered, then clenched his teeth so his jaw flared for a moment. “It may not be what you want once you learn.”
“Then I’ll decide that then.” She reached across the table and grabbed his arm, latching her hand to it before he could pull it away. “Please.” Their eyes met. “Just let me decide for myself. I…” Swallowing hard, she quieted herself, refusing to let the L-word slip. “We’re basically in a relationship now, whether you want to label it or not. All I’m asking is that we both acknowledge it and start moving forward.”