by Donna Alam
Air is the first thing I register, cool air where before there was none. A tremble of flesh follows as I close my eyes and surrender to the sensations, to the indignity. Blood rushes through my veins, chasing an adrenaline spike, need and fear wracking my nerves and throbbing in my groin.
A soft, audible click sounds and my legs are drawn further apart. I bite back a whimper, low and libidinous, like an invitation for more.
Am I fucking mad?
‘Look at you, all wet and exposed.’
Admonishment? Appreciation? I can’t decide. I shake my head, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment, with shame. But the flaring sensations continue to build, stronger than ever before. Splayed across the table, the pulsing between my legs increases exponentially with the disgrace colouring my face.
‘Closing your eyes doesn’t make me go away. You’re wet and turned on . . . shamed by those reactions. I like it and so do you, in your own way. Fuck nice girls don’t,’ his voice derides from above.
I shake my head vigorously in denial, in misapprehension. Fuck the suggestion that nice girls don’t or just fuck . . . nice girls? Not that it matters, I can’t keep a thought in my head.
‘Pretty, pretty . . .’ he breathes. I feel the brush of air before the scent of his cologne becomes stronger, followed by the soft touch of his skin. ‘Lips,’ he whispers against my mouth, kissing me lightly as he stands over me, forehead to my chin.
I raise my arms, to draw him to me a split second before I realize that I can’t, that I’m powerless. I wriggle against the bindings as he smirks above me. He fucking smirks.
‘Let me help.’ His eyes shine as he straightens and reaches into the back pocket of his pants, pulling out a black, silk eye mask. ‘Bound, tethered, subdued.’ He slips the mask over my eyes.
‘I’m in awe of you,’ he breathes softly from above. ‘Do you know that? The fearless girl all alone on the other side of the world. Brave enough to embrace. To trust.’
I relax in small increments against the table, the knots of tension in my spine loosening. Like alchemy or sublimation, his words seep into me, restoring the delicate line between teasing and torment. My rapid breathing eases for the moment. A short moment as vestigial trepidation returns to my skin in a rush. Something cold and metal presses between my breasts; fabric tears, my nipples no longer restrained. I whimper again.
‘Relax.’ But it’s too late to tell me that as my spine stiffens, alarm slickly coating my skin as the remains of my bra is cut away. ‘You have no choice. Let go,’ he whispers as my panic amplifies. But then I melt under him, against him, as he places a moist kiss in the centre of my stomach. Sweet, sucking kisses move lower to my hipbones. I arch and whimper further as his words come back to haunt me.
Complicated. Twists your mind. Makes you come.
A mutinous moan escapes my throat, my hips jerking as his mouth works against me, resting at the apex of my thighs.
‘There’s no place to go. Give in, sweetheart. Give up.’
I whimper and writhe against him. For him. More touch, more words, more Kai. And then his tongue is where I need him, working me wetly; the feeling of it pushing inside me like an invasion. So immense. I have no option, but to take all he has to give. Sensations amplify, becoming electric, my body surging with the current. My fingers ball into fists, seeking to hang on as I climb; my body bowing from the wood in a motion of futility. I moan loudly as his tongue teases and swirls, skims and dips. Then two fingers are inside me, curling and beckoning me on. On the cusp of orgasm, I cry out, I surrender. Giving in. Giving over. Giving up. Right before he pulls back.
‘Remember khallas, Kate, and everything stops. Can you remember that?’
His movement brings me back to the moment and my absolute lack of control. I open my mouth, the word on the tip of my tongue before I swallow it back.
‘Tell me.’
‘Khallas and you’ll stop, but Kai—’ What will it take to get him to carry on?
‘Good girl.’
My heart beats like it would escape from my chest, the pulsing between my legs matching it in strength. And through all this I can sense him now by my side. I inhale deeper, willing myself to still, to hide my desperation and surrender to the absolute dark of the mask.
Leather. I can smell leather, candle wax and Kai.
My body jerks as the whip hits my stomach in barely a swipe. An electric-like surge courses through me but there’s no pain, no real pain.
Just a swipe to catch my attention.
I exhale a breath as the tendrils lift from my skin, slowly stroking the flesh of my torso, trailing my leg to my toes, before repeating against my other. Long, languid strokes skim my breasts and ribs, my skin quivering and tingling, receptive to every touch. The soft strands circle my stomach, sliding further still. I shudder violently as they caress the open ribbon of flesh between my legs, doubly so as his fingers follow in its wake.
‘Pretty, pretty,’ he echoes, his thumb stroking my wetness.
I exhale raggedly, intense sparks of pleasure shocking me into movement against the wood. He stills, resting his thumb against the sensitive nub, the pressing weight a delicious torture. I jerk instinctively, pointlessly, open as I am, breathing deeply, audibly, trying to force the tension to subside as I recognise the signs: The waiting game we’re playing, the weaving anticipation and anxiety. Part torture, part tease.
He meets my recognition by the rapid stroke of the whip against my thigh.
I call out, stunned by the sudden contact. My skin prickles, blood rushing to the surface like meeting a much-missed friend.
‘Oh, Kate, you undo me,’ he whispers, his voice as soft as a suede caress. Reverence. That’s the word I’m looking for; that’s how he sounds. The strands draw across my stomach again and I shiver at their touch. ‘Have you learned yet? Realised?’ He bends to my ear. ‘Bondage, Kate. Bondage is freedom when you want, when you need to be tied.’
His thumb moves, replaced by fingers that twist and curl deeply as the leather tendrils tease my skin.
‘Give in.’ A purr, words low and deep as he runs the soft wisps over my trembling skin, his fingers anchoring me.
The strands move across my breast, caressing the sensitive flesh, nipples standing high in invitation before leather meets skin again in a swipe. It hurts more this time, a stinging smart and I cry out in reply. Breath leaves my mouth in panting bursts as I deal with the throbbing, echoing the same inside. My head is exploding, the synergy of sweetness and violence blowing the fuses of my mind.
‘Pleasure in pain,’ Kai whispers.
Both sensations lick my skin with each swipe, the whip making a matching pair of my breasts, my nerve endings singing with delight.
How can this be?
Down my body and across my slit, slick and wet, the leather draws. I sense Kai leaning over me; feel his breath soft against my thigh as his fingers pry the sensitive tissues further apart.
‘Violent delights,’ he murmurs, his voice thick and throaty.
‘No, Kai. Don’t, please.’ Do I beg or do I moan? He can’t mean to hit me there?
The soft leather teases my insides, my whimpers increasing, my body quivering as a sudden, cold sweat beads against my skin. I can stop this. I just need to say one word. Reasonable thoughts rush through my head, at odds with the insidious ache building between my thighs. I try to hang on, the word at the very tip of my tongue.
Beg him to stop, beg him not to stop?
The strands drag higher against my wetness, torturously slow. The sensations are consuming, my mind spinning as I try to centre myself, torn as confusion bounds off the walls of my brain.
‘Punish you for your pleasure,’ he whispers.
‘No!’ I call out as the tendrils stroke still. I rattle small, helpless movements against the limits of the restraints as the pulsing builds. I need pressure, some kind of release, something as my head thrashes from side to side. ‘Please,’ I pant. It’s all too much—a sensation overload, t
he wiring of my brain short fusing.
He strikes the oversensitive flesh with one deft stroke and everything stops. Just for a moment. A moment of sweet violence. I’m a balloon cut free from its weight, floating free and high. Just for a second, the sounds drop out of the room, the darkness of the mask so welcoming. I come loudly, fighting pleasure and anguish, pulling against the restraints, thrashing and snarling through my captivity as my mind whispers more.
In my slow return, Kai removes his fingers, my insides clenching a lament. The mask moves and I blink into his sweetly smiling face. Kissing my forehead, he moves to loosen the bindings at my wrists, placing chaste kisses at the insides before attending to my ankles without speaking. He doesn’t speak and I can’t. My mind is vacuous, the shroud of orgasm robbing me of thought.
‘Sit,’ he murmurs almost solicitously, gathering me to his chest at the edge of the table. I’m weak and trembling as he coaxes me into his arms. Sliding the hair from my face, he croons unfamiliar sentiments as he carries me to the bedroom, laying me down against the cool sheets.
Hands hover over the button of his pants as he pauses for a moment, just looking at me. Then, sliding them off, he lowers himself to the bed, stroking and murmuring his praise. Music registers in the background; melody and a harp before words. Soft words of obsession, a lover coaxing through the song. Seducing, the words wrap around me and seep into my soul.
‘Thank you,’ he whispers, pulling me to him.
He kisses me with a fierce gentleness, his power and strength restrained. My eyelids quiver as he covers me in soft, fluttering butterfly wing kisses, kissing me from one high, transporting me to the next. Skin slides against skin, tongue against tongue. I lie beneath him, my hands against his chest, his heart in my hands.
‘Take me inside, Kate,’ he whispers, words like fingertips against my skin. I open gladly for him, inhaling sharply as he thrusts inside, igniting pleasure once more.
‘I love you.’ Eyes closed above me, he stills, savouring the moment. ‘I need you.’
His body is a graceful arc as he begins to move. Hip to hip, we rock and clutch, unable to get close enough to the other and as though we would possess the other’s skin. Pushing my knees wider, he buries himself in my heat, tempo increasing as he thrusts deeper, writhing above me almost as though in pain. Beautiful, dark and resplendent, his hips drive and propel his pleasure inside. Thrusting once, twice more, his rhythm falters, his mouth whispering words I don’t understand.
My heart is full, my mind a vacuum as my body responds. An exquisite pressure builds, wave upon wave of pleasure wracking my body as I cry out my love.
My hands lay at his ribs, unwilling to release him. We’re a tangle of limbs and sweat shone skin, speaking the unspoken with our fingers. Kai encourages me onto my side, fitting himself behind me. My back against his chest, his head rests above my own. We fit together seamlessly. He wraps his hand around my waist, grounding me, holding me tight as though he knows I feel so light, I could surely float away.
Twenty-Three
I open my eyes, head blurred with a dream-like torpor. Want and frustration, the feeling that Kai has gone. My heart beats staccato as a sense of desolation drowns me, bordering on pain. As my body jars upward, I realise he’s here, lying next to me; my dark angel silently sleeping.
An arm flung carelessly above his head, the caramel of his skin is almost luminescent, the muted light dancing in through the drapes. His lips pout as though reluctant to leave the night, one lock of hair caressing his forehead giving him an air of innocence and purity. His virtuous doppelganger. The thought makes me smile. Placing my forefinger against his full bottom lip, I watch the colour drain with pressure, watch the puckering of his brow. Then, leaning over him, I put my lips against his.
‘I love you,’ I whisper softly, wondering how long before he registers my mouth against his.
I place a chaste kiss in the centre, wanting to make out, to pash him, as adolescent as that sounds. I want to kiss him awake, kiss him to consciousness, feel him rouse under my hands.
He makes a low sound from the back of his throat, stirring but not opening his eyes. But then he smiles, and my heart aches impossibly so. I kiss him now, his mouth moving against my own, sweetness and smiles building between us, and all the while his eyes remained closed.
I pull away, sit back and watch his sleeping pretence, but I can’t stay away long. He’s better at this game than I am. Stroking my fingers against the warm skin of his arm, I walk them across his chest in faerie steps, stroking his nipple, bending to cover the nub with my mouth. I swirl my tongue against him before kissing further down, licking and caressing his ribcage and lower. Straddling his legs, I lay my hands against the bones of his hips, the prominent seat of his power.
‘What are you doing down there?’ His voice, peppered with curiosity and thick with sleep, makes him sound happy and tired and sexy all at once.
‘Shush,’ I whisper. ‘You’re not doing this right. You’re supposed to be asleep so I can kiss you awake.’
‘Don’t let me stop you,’ he murmurs throatily, his cock growing hard against my lips.
‘Then stop making me talk.’
I lower my mouth engulfing just the tip, his hips twitching reflexively, his body arching upwards from the bed. I tighten my fingers against his hips in warning, muscles tensing and flexing beneath my fingers as he lowers himself. I move a little more now, licking and sucking and swirling as I go.
Growling with abandon, his fists ball in the sheet by his legs. This is such a heady act, this kissing him awake. In my mouth, he’s warm satin over steel, yet I’m the one with the power. I push down much further, feeling him in the channel of my throat. My hair falls around me like a shield, covering his skin and tangling in my mouth. I moan around him, feeling the sound thrumming through my lips as he twists under me.
‘Ah, Kate,’ he rasps, his hands pushing the hair from my face, knotting it in his fingers. ‘I love it when you talk with your mouth full.’
I groan deliberately, like he’s told a really crappy joke. I want him to speak again, all growly and breathless, want him to keep moving reflexively. His hands hold my head as though he’d like to participate but hasn’t yet been invited, tightening slightly as I continue teasing and tasting him, noting every sigh and shudder, every flex and exhale, logging them away for later reflection.
All at once, I find myself flipped onto my back, Kai looming over me. One hand against the bed at my shoulder supports his weight, the other grasps his hard, wet length. His concentration is absolute as his soft, full mouth falls open, harsh breaths exhaled along with curses and demands that I watch him come. Stripped of his usual façade, he makes primal, almost guttural noises, the kind that make me long to swallow him whole.
Just moments later, I’m coated and pearlised in warm pulsing bursts.
Sticky, shocking. Slick.
Collapsing next to me on his side, his breath is heavy as he rasps, ‘Debauched.’
‘That you are.’ I giggle, touching my wet chest.
‘It’s you. You just bring out the best in me.’ Kissing my forehead, he stretches along the bed.
‘Do you think they did this sort of thing back in the thirteenth century?’
‘What?’ he asks, all languid, still coming down. . . from coming, I suppose.
‘I was thinking about veils versus pearls . . .’ Scrunching my nose, I point to my chest.’
‘We’re back to that?’ he asks, no doubt recalling our conversation about dating Middle-Ages style. ‘You’re asking if I think thirteenth-century men wanked over the one they loved?’
Loved. This makes me smile like a loon, and I nod manically. Even wanked is a close favourite. ‘When Layla and Kais were around. Do you think they did this kind of thing back then?’
‘While I’m certain poor old Kais never got that close, I’m sure it would’ve been part of our repertoire, had we been around then. Yes, I like to think lovers enjoyed themselves.’ L
eaning over the bed, he grabs something from the floor and holding himself on his forearm, he wipes at my neck and chest. I hope it’s not my beautiful dry clean only dress. ‘They’d be missing out, if not because that was the best kind of wake-up call.’ The words are low in his throat, like they’re spoken over gravel. ‘I thought I was dreaming.’ He sighs, content, wrapping his arms around me and gathering a slightly sticky me against his chest. ‘I could get used to this, waking up with you. You could kiss me awake every morning and I could cover you in pearls.’
‘Every morning?’ I ask, giggling.
‘I’d give you strings and strings of them,’ he says, playing along. ‘Cover you from head to toe.’
‘Someone’s been watching way too much porn. It’s mainly cornflour, you know?’
‘I’m not going to ask how you know.’
‘I’ll have you know I’m a mine of information, most of it useless.’
‘Getting back to the pearls,’ he drawls languidly.
‘I don’t do early morning house calls.’ I swat his shoulder with my hand.
‘But seriously,’ he says, grabbing my hand and pulling it into his chest. ‘I was thinking about us last night, while you were sleeping. About being together more often.’ Bringing my fingers to his mouth, he kisses them, moving my hand to reveal a wide smile. ‘I’m going to get you an apartment.’
‘But I’ve got one.’
‘Yes. One tied to your job. I thought perhaps you’d like to tutor privately, at some point. Or not,’ he adds hurriedly, watching my expression.
‘On top of my job? It’s against my contract.’
‘I meant instead of working, or maybe you might like to work somewhere else.’
‘Why would I want to leave?’ A sinking feeling pulls at my gut. I’ve only been employed at Al Mishael two minutes and I know dating Kai has caused some complications, but I’m not ready to leave on his whim. I like my job. I’m only just settling in.
‘It’s something to think about. I could get you an apartment, help you with—’