by Paige North
I obviously got to him.
Our limo driver comes over, and Cage stands and nods to him.
“Take her home,” he says.
What?
“You’re not coming with me?”
“I’m staying here for a while.” He sits back down and orders something else from the server.
I feel as if I’m drifting on a wind that’s blowing me away from him, and I barely hear the driver as he says, “Miss Lively?”
I numbly turn to him to see him sweeping his arm toward the door.
I don’t make a scene. I just go with him, my steps heavy. Cage could’ve had more drinks in his home if he wanted to, but I’ve obviously upset his balance and he doesn’t want to be around me.
Tonight I think I robbed him of that control he so sorely needs, and all he can do is get it back by distancing himself.
The ride to his place seems to take forever, and when I’m finally inside, I slink to my bedroom, shutting my door behind me. I really messed up tonight. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut? Haven’t I learned to do that yet?
After I go into my walk-in closet to put my shoes on their rack, I try not to linger there, to think about how he got me off in here last night, how I thought that maybe we’d found a twisted yet deep connection…
I rush out of there, moving into the bathroom and turning on the light. I stand in front of the marble sink for a moment, then begin to take off my mask of makeup, one layer after the other. What’s left in the end is a woman, not a girl, I’m only starting to recognize—sadder and wiser, but she’s definitely changed from even a couple of days ago.
I finally see what Cage sees, and I want to cry.
But then I hear a slamming sound, like a door. I don’t move. About twenty frightened heartbeats later, I hear my own door open, and I hold my breath, still staring in the mirror.
There’s only one person who can get into Cage’s place and slam the doors that way.
He walks into the bathroom and stands behind me in the mirror, his tie gone, his jacket off, his collar undone. His hair is messy, as if he’s run his fingers through it while fighting himself about something, and I see the same dark look in his eyes that he had last night, right before he dominated me and I so willingly submitted.
“I thought you were staying at the bar for a drink,” I whisper.
But then I see Cage lifting a red blindfold in the mirror. It dangles like a new, exciting escapade.
“You need another lesson, Karini,” he whispers, right before he ties the silk around my head, making everything go black.
Chapter 16
As the blindfold turns my world dark, all my other senses explode.
I hear Cage’s harsh breathing behind me, almost as if he chased me back here to his apartment by taking an impulsive cab ride and he never stopped pursuing me until this very second. I smell his shirt, clean and starched, and his skin…god, his skin. I can taste the memory of him in my mouth from the last time we kissed, and I can feel the air caress my bare arms, making the hairs on them stand on end, thanks to all the goose bumps running up and down my flesh.
Cage has come here to control me in every way, and I think it’s the only way he knows how to do it.
“Did you think there’d be no consequences for your behavior tonight?” His voice is my everything right now—rough with frustration and obvious need, almost a physical thing because I’ve been deprived of seeing him.
“No,” I whisper as my hands fumble in front of me, finally resting on the smooth, cool marble counter. There—now I’m steady enough to say something back that I know will enflame him. “I was hoping there’d be another lesson after I pushed you to tell me things you obviously don’t want to talk about.”
“But I’m the one who’s going to do the talking now,” he commands. “Don’t say another word.”
I bite my lip, obeying, happy to do it. Much too happy.
His voice is still echoing inside of me. This blindfold has taken away so much of him from me, and this is the only part of him I have right now. My breathing speeds up, but it can’t compete with my heartbeat, which taps through me like a building rainstorm, making my pussy moist.
I feel a slight pressure on my back.
He’s got a hold of my zipper.
Oh, I wish I could see myself in the mirror that I’m still facing, but just imagining the roaring blush that must be covering my face gets me hot.
As he slowly pulls the zipper down and down, the sound fills the room. He’s undoing me second by agonizing second, and when my dress gapes open in back and he unclasps my bra, freeing my tits, I hold my breath.
I wait for him to touch my sensitive skin back there. I’m ready to beg for it.
He’s trying to control his breathing, but it’s uneven. The realization that I have a hold on him makes my nipples tighten.
I’m still waiting for him to touch me, but he isn’t doing it. What the hell is he doing?
When I feel my skirt being lifted, I swallow back a moan and brace my hands tighter on the counter. I imagine his hands getting busy with me as he slips them under my dress to pull down my panties. I hear the rustle of silk from the dress, the whispering caress of lace against my skin as he lowers my underwear. He’s being careful not to touch me with those long, naughty fingers of his, and his cruelty is driving me crazy, my clit wetly pulsating.
After my panties are off, nothing happens, and I clutch the counter, my heartbeat chipping away at me as I stand there in my own darkness.
“Cage…” I start to say.
“Quiet,” he demands.
His voice comes from behind me, low to the ground, as if he’s crouched with my panties in his hand. My pussy craves his touch, but he isn’t giving it to me, damn him.
He finally speaks, frustration edging his voice. “How can I be sure you’re going to be a sweet, obedient girl tomorrow night at that dinner if you keep disobeying my rules?”
I begin to answer, then stop myself. He’s testing me. I can’t see his face to be sure, but I sense it.
“All you have to do is act like my girlfriend,” he says. “That doesn’t mean you have to know about shit like my hopes and dreams. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean you have to dig deep into my business.”
I hear and feel him stand up, and my body quakes.
“There,” he says quietly. “You’re finally listening, not talking. You’re not saying a word unless I ask you to. Is it because you know you’re in for it if you say anything to me?”
My breath catches as I feel my skirt being lifted again. My bottom is exposed, and I prepare myself for him to spank me, even though I’ve been a pretty good girl so far.
“Or are you staying silent because you know you’ve been testing me tonight—and you know testing me is a bad, bad idea…?”
I jump when I feel his fingers on one of my ass cheeks. He strokes lower to explore underneath the curve of it, getting close to my pussy. I jolt with wet heat, anticipating, dying for whatever’s coming.
“How long before you test me again?” he asks. “How far are things going to go, baby?”
As I feel his other hand slide up my back to press me over the counter, I gasp. I cushion my head with my arms, my face turned to the side. My clit has a heartbeat of its own as he keeps caressing my ass.
What is he going to do? When will he do it?
He lifts his hand from my bottom, and I suck in a breath to prepare myself for the sting of a spank.
One pulse…two…
When nothing happens, I let out a thwarted little groan. Cage only laughs.
“Before you get what you so clearly want,” he says, “spread your legs. Show me your pretty pussy.”
At the nasty command, a flush rages through me, but I do as he says. As I part my legs, I hear how wet I am, sopping, needy.
He lets out one of those low growls, and I don’t have to see him to know that he’s getting hot, too. Behind my blindfold, I imagine what he sees—the pink flesh
of my most secret parts, the creamy folds, an invitation for him to do what he wants…
I expect him to slip his fingers into me now, just as he’s done before, but he surprises me when I feel him spread the cheeks of my bottom.
Now my clit is going wild, sending electric pulses into my belly. Each beat sizzles inside of me, louder, harder, building me up until I’m digging my nails into my own arms.
He uses his thumb to circle a forbidden spot in my crevice, and I move with him, whimpering at the foreign thrill that’s getting my sex even slicker.
“So many places no one has ever been with you,” he says. “How does this feel, baby?”
I don’t know if he’s gauging me, seeing if I’ll say something and break his rules or not, and as he presses his thumb against a super sensitive spot, I only make a shocked, delighted sound. He presses it again, and I gush even more between my legs. The next time, he dips his thumb into me a little, and my sight goes even darker under my blindfold.
“God!” I say, realizing too late that I disobeyed him by saying something, even this one tiny word.
“She just can’t help herself,” he says, as if disappointed.
But I can tell that he isn’t. He’s just as excited as I am.
I wish I could see it in his eyes, know everything he’s feeling. Has he let down his guard like I’ve seen him do before? Is that darkness in his gaze yet?
He smacks my bottom so suddenly that an explosive surge comes between my legs, and not only on the outside—it’s as if liquid has hit a live wire inside of me, charging me up and making me burst. With my ass stinging, he spanks me again, and this time I come with a ferocious gush, crying out loudly.
My skin burns, cream bathing my inner thighs, and in my blindfolded blackness, I can hear Cage’s breathing pick up even more.
He slips his fingers through my folds, smearing the cream around, circling my clit until I’m absolutely humming inside. But I think I’m actually making a sound like that, too—humming like a swarm of bees about to sting back.
“Does my baby like that?” he asks.
He damned well knows the answer, and I want more of it, so I break his rules.
“Yes,” I say forcefully. I might as well have said fuck you, give me some more, because that’s what I meant.
I don’t give a shit about being punished now—give it to me!—and I push my hands up the counter, spreading my legs farther, silently asking for him to give it to me, now, more, please…
When he only teases me by taking his fingers away from my pussy, I whimper again.
I can’t see for sure, but it’s as if he can’t keep his hands off of me now, and he skims both of them into the gaping back of my dress, coasting to the front of me and cupping my breasts. I arch off the counter with a pleased “ah,” and he slips his fingers over my nipples, playing with me. His fingers are slick with my juices, making every caress slippery. Then he presses his cock against the back of my sex, his hard tip nudging my entrance. He’s still in his trousers, and the rough sensation of his fabric against me drives me wild.
“More,” I groan.
“What’s that, baby?”
“More!”
“Do you want my cock? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
As he dips into me with his head, I make a yes sound. He does it again and…
Yes…yes…yes…
“You’re not supposed to be telling me anything,” he growls as he keeps dry fucking me, but just barely, just enough to make the pressure expand inside me again, building up for another wave of ecstasy.
I slowly realize that there was a strained note in his voice that I recognize—need for me, and only me.
My temperature rises even higher. Heat pushes out against my belly, steaming and pushing me to a place that’s going to blow my mind.
I can’t wait.
Suddenly, Cage hauls me back from the counter, and I blindly gasp, not knowing what to hold onto, not knowing what the hell is next. But I want it. Want it badly. The anticipation adds another layer to my desperation for him, and the beating pressure inside me turns into a fierce banging.
Cage swings me around, and I feel my back against the wall right before he tears off the rest of my clothing, leaving me bared to him. He lifts me higher against the wall, and I hook my legs around his waist as he latches his mouth onto my breast, desperately sucking, tonguing me and swirling around my tip until I’m pulling at his hair because of the sensations and the messy, erotic sounds we’re making.
Can’t see, but I can hear…can feel…and that feeling is pushing me and pushing me.
The blindfold is still firmly in place, and I want to pull it off so I can see him working my breasts with his mouth. Hearing him is bad enough, so is feeling him, but I want to see the madness in his gaze, the darkness. I want to see him dominating me as I let him do anything he wants.
I can feel his hand undoing his trousers now, and I know the minute his cock springs free, because he steadies me against the wall, then rams into me, stiff and hard. I yowl with aching rapture as I immediately explode for him, wet and wonderful and clawing at him so he doesn’t stop…never want him to stop…
He fucks me, grunting in primal passion with every thrust, lording it over me as I hang on and ask for more and more, yes and yes and please and please…
I’m reeling head-on toward another blind, brutal orgasm when Cage growls even louder than before, then stiffens, coming into me first, saturating me with hot cum during every blast. I pull at his hair, right on the edge of my own climax.
Just as I feel like I’m about to bust open, he jerks the blindfold off of me, and the slam of light combines with the crash of passion that completely takes me over—light, heat, wet. I give full voice to my release, my eyes finally focusing as I look at Cage watching me with his own naked gaze. I come and come, cry and cry until I’m so weak that I start slipping down the wall, satiated, a bad girl who did good.
Real good.
As he keeps his gaze on mine, I see that he does feel something for me, and I cling to him, never wanting to let go. This is it—the moment when he’s going to drop all his defenses and tell me how he really feels about me. I’ve seen it in him. I know it’s there.
No more hiding.
But, gradually, I feel his muscles tense, and as he lets me slide all the way down the wall, everything in me sinks—my stomach, my heart, my soul. It’s all falling.
After he makes sure I’m not going to crumble, he does what he always does—puts himself back in his pants then pushes back his hair from his face. But he doesn’t go anywhere.
There’s a moment of hope. I think he’s about to say something.
Will he?
Please?
But then he only withdraws once again, turning away from me and leaving the bathroom.
Once again acting as if I don’t exist.
Chapter 17
The next morning, I lie in bed alone. Sunlight pours through the curtains in my room, and I haven’t called on Daphne to make me a fancy breakfast because I’m not hungry. And I know the maid is probably chomping at the bit to do her daily cleaning in here.
But none of it matters.
Cage has given me many lessons about “being his girlfriend,” but it seems I haven’t learned the most important one of all—don’t fall for a man who never made you promises in the first place.
The only upside I can see is that, after tonight’s dinner, I’ll be free. Maybe once I’m back home and I’m not in Cage’s presence any more, I’ll be out from under this strange, sensual spell he has me under.
Everything will be okay tomorrow, I think. But I’m not so certain of that.
I’m afraid I’m in way too deep now…
When my phone rings, I startle to a sitting position in bed, clutching the duvet to my chest. Is it Cage? Then just as quickly I wonder if it’s Liam, upping his game, going from texts to phone calls to harass me about the money.
I calm down jus
t as soon as I realize that the ringtone is my mother’s.
Just before I answer, I wonder if my family has seen the society column photo of Cage and me from the other night at the art gallery. Actually, I really don’t care. That’s the least of my concerns.
I pick up the call.
“Good morning, sweetheart!” My mom sure sounds like she’s had her eggs sunny-side up today. “Or maybe I should say good afternoon since you’re still on your summer adventure back east with your friends. I always forget about the time change.”
Yeah. Summer adventure. If only she knew how adventurous I’ve gotten.
I smile as much as I’m able to, because it really is good to hear her familiar, loving voice. “Morning, Mom.”
“I just thought I’d check in before you fly home tomorrow evening.”
“I’ll still be there.”
“Oh, good. Dad and I will have your room all ready for you. I know you’ll be off to college again before we know it though. You never seem to stay in one place for long these days.”
She hasn’t said anything about seeing me on the arm of a billionaire in a society column picture, and I’m not about to bring up the subject.
As I move my legs to the side of the bed, I take in a breath at how sore I am between my legs. It reminds me that tonight is my last one with Cage, and that hurts even more.
God, I can’t think about this.
So I listen to Mom chatter about New York and how wonderful it must be. She’s never been here, so she wants to know about the restaurants and—e-hem—culture that I’m experiencing during this last hurrah before graduation. Then she mentions something that makes my hackles rise.
“This morning we got a lot of calls from an unknown number,” she says. “At first your dad and I thought you’d gotten a new phone and didn’t tell us, but I see that’s not the case. It’s probably only salesmen who don’t leave messages.”
I swallow, thinking of Liam. Is he doubling down on his harassment of me, aiming for my parents now? Is he about to tell them everything?
“There’re ways to block those calls, Mom,” I say, and somehow I sound calm.