Black Market Magic

by Amy Sumida

  “Take off your clothes, Seren,” he said as he dropped the towels on the floor.

  “Abrupt,” I muttered.

  “Rule number one,” he said sternly, “no talking back.”

  I made a zipping motion with my fingers across my mouth, and he laughed. Then I took off my clothes, and his humor disappeared. Daxon breathed deeply and let it out slowly before he gestured to the tub.

  “Get in.”

  I slipped into the warm water and sat down. Daxon came up behind me and started to undo my braid. He took a comb from a nearby shelf and combed out my hair as the water filled the tube. Then Dax piled my hair on top of my head and pinned it up. I narrowed my eyes at the dish of golden hairpins he was using, and he chuckled.

  “We are not each other's first,” Daxon reminded me. “But everything I have for you is new. I purchased these with you in mind.”

  I stared back at him with wide eyes.

  “I told you,” he said with a smile, “I've been planning this for a long time.”

  “What next?” I asked to cover my surprise.

  “Next, you wash yourself,” he gestured to the cloth draped over the edge of the tub.

  “You're not going to bathe me?” I smirked.

  “Not yet.”

  I cleared my throat and set to briskly bathing.

  “Slow down, Seren.” Daxon laughed. “I want to enjoy this, and we have all night.”

  I slowed my movements and then slowed even further when Daxon stood up and started to remove his clothing. My mouth went dry as his tattooed body was revealed fully. The hard curves, the smooth planes, and—amid a thatch of sapphire curls—that rigid length of flesh rising for me alone. I swallowed past the dryness in my throat and tried to remember how to bathe myself—how to breathe. Every sweep of the cloth became sensuous with such a view to inspire me.

  Daxon smiled and came to the edge of the tub.

  “Stand up,” he said.

  I did; water sluicing off my body. Daxon took the cloth from me and soaped it up. Then he climbed into the tub behind me, but he took a seat on the platform surrounding the tub; with only his feet in the water.

  “Come here,” he said. “I want you to drape yourself over my lap.”

  “You're not going to spank me are you?” I asked with the barest hint of derision. I mean; how predictable.

  “What did I say about talking back to me?” His voice went hard, and I flinched. “Get over here, Seren.”

  I went with startled eyes and bent over his lap.

  “That's better.” He sighed and started stroking the cloth over my back.

  Daxon drew the cloth down, between my cheeks, and then across my womanhood. I sighed as he rubbed gently, relaxing across his lap, my hands sliding down his legs to absently rub his calves. And then the cloth fell away. Daxon's expert fingers twirled in circles over the most exquisite places, and pleasure shot through my body. I trembled, my shivering waist brushing his twitching manhood. One finger came close to my opening; slick strokes along the edge, just skimming where I wanted him to go, and then it drew back up... too far up. I went tense and tried to move away. Daxon's hand smacked down hard on my ass, and I froze.

  “Stay still,” he said.

  “Daxon,” I growled.

  “There are the most delicious nerve endings here, Seren,” Daxon purred as he rubbed a finger around that other place.

  The one I didn't even like to acknowledge I had, much less have someone run their finger over. He circled it with his soapy finger, and then, gently eased inside.

  “Daxon!” I snapped.

  “Relax, Seren,” Daxon's voice was full of laughter as he pressed a hand to my back and held me down. “I'm just washing you. I intend to have my tongue all over this amazing body, and I want to be sure you're clean enough to lick.”

  Daxon removed his finger and lowered me back into the tub. That was it. I still felt a little violated and glared at him, so he knew it. Dax pressed his lips together to hide his grin as he stepped out of the tub and then held a hand out to me. I took it, and he helped me out of the water, then over to the shower. Daxon turned on the water and stepped into the spray.

  “Now, it's your turn.” Daxon handed me a fresh washcloth and a bar of soap. “Make sure you wash everywhere.”

  I blushed. I actually blushed. But then I did just as he asked. I ran that soapy cloth over every curve, every dip, and long length of him. I got on my knees and ran the washcloth up his thighs and between his legs. Daxon's head fell back against the tile as I massaged him and soaped him up until he was clean enough to eat off of. Then I dropped the cloth and ran my hands further back; cleaning him as well as he had me. I figured that if he were going to goose my naughty place, I'd take a gander at his. Daxon sucked in his breath and gripped my hand before I went as far as he had.

  “I think you've got that area clean now, sweetheart,” Daxon said with a chuckle.

  I smirked at him as I stood. “All's fair in love and bathing.”

  “Cute,” he murmured before he kissed me.

  We rubbed our slick bodies against each other, his soapy member doing incredible things without invading me. Daxon pushed my thighs together tightly with his knees and shoved himself between them; he slid slickly and so tightly against me. I moaned and pressed even tighter against him, running my hands over the curve of his ass.

  Daxon angled us beneath the spray, and we let the water rinse us clean as we continued to grind against each other and kiss. When we were finally clean to our satisfaction, we stepped out of the stall. He handed me a towel, and we dried off without any added sensuality beyond the heat of our stares. Frankly, it was lovely, but I had been expecting something a little more... I don't know... exotic from him.

  Daxon led me back into the bedroom and then to the center of the room. The hardwood floor was cool beneath my feet, and the scent of ripening fruit carried in through the windows on a light breeze. Against my steamy flesh, it felt good. I breathed in deeply and started to relax. This wasn't so bad.

  “Spread your legs,” Daxon said. “And keep your arms down at your sides.”

  I did so without protest; I was still in that complacent state. Then Daxon waved a hand, and a wooden chest near the bed opened. Two lengths of white silk streamed out on a breeze and undulated through the air toward us. They began to snake around my ankles and up my legs.

  “What the hell?” I looked down at the winding fabric.

  Daxon just smiled.

  The silk continued up, encasing my legs completely, and then they crisscrossed over each other to wrap around my hips. Next, they traveled up my torso; binding my arms to my body with my hands left free but restrained. I scowled as the silk covered me all the way to my neck, where the ends tied together in a lovely bow.

  “Beautiful,” Daxon noted.

  “Did you just wrap me so that you could unwrap me?” I teased him.

  “In a way,” Daxon murmured as he pressed his body into mine.

  Daxon's arms went straight down my back and held me tight. Combined with the ribbon, it made for a very helpless feeling, and my heart began to race. Dax laid a gentle kiss on the pulse in my throat, licked it, and then nuzzled my neck. Even his breath became a caress. Then he scooped me up and carried me to the bed. I admit that I was a little panicked at this point—I wasn't a big fan of feeling vulnerable—but I had agreed to this, and I wasn't going to chicken out.

  Daxon laid me down gently and then stretched out beside me. He stroked a hand down my body, and the silk tightened in its wake. I inhaled sharply, but it wasn't too constricting, just enough to make me feel good and bound. Daxon's hand drifted to one of the few uncovered areas of my body; the juncture between my thighs. My dark curls were stark against the silk, and his fingers twirled through them playfully. My thighs clenched as his fingertips brushed my sensitive flesh, but then Daxon abruptly drew his hand away. I tried not to let him see my disappointment, but he knew anyway. Daxon smiled as he lifted his hands up my b
elly and then over the curves of my bound breasts.

  With a few flicks of his fingers, Dax parted the ribbons over the crest of each breast, popping my nipples free. The sensation was shocking—even more so when he brushed the pad of his thumb over my nipples. I sucked in a breath as Daxon smiled wickedly at me and then lowered his mouth to me. I couldn't stay silent. I cried out, my whole body thrumming against the bindings, as Daxon sucked hard on my nipple. My arms wanted to reach for him, pull him closer, but all I could do was lay there and pray for more.

  “Concentrate on every sensation,” Daxon lifted his head to whisper in my ear. “The lightest touch”—he trailed a finger down my arm and then over the exposed skin of my hand—“to the sharpest.” He pulled a piece of silk out from my hip and let it snap back against me. “One touch emphasizes the other.”

  He stood up and went to the chest that had held the silk. Daxon pulled out a few items that I didn't recognize, and then a candle. I frowned at that.

  “Remember that you trust me,” Dax said as he climbed onto the bed and spread out his haul beside me.

  Daxon positioned himself between my thighs and stretched his legs out straight before him and beneath mine—so that our legs were at opposite angles—before pulling me over his lap. His member pressed against the exposed flesh between my legs, and I writhed against it. He pressed himself against me briefly, and I moaned, but then he eased back.

  The candle was one of those that came in a glass jar. Daxon lit it with a little fire magic, and then bent over me. The flame came closer, and I flinched. I stared at Daxon in shock, and he lifted a brow.

  “Are you all right?” He asked, suddenly very serious.

  “I guess that whole burning thing affected me more than I knew.”

  “Do you want me to put the candle out?” He asked.

  “No, it's okay.”

  “Seren, I don't want you to actually be afraid,” he said softly.

  “I won't be,” I said firmly. “I trust you.”

  “Okay,” Daxon whispered as he laid the warm glass against the side of my breast.

  I could feel the heat rising, and for a second I saw the flames around me again, but then I focused on Daxon's ocean eyes, and they quenched the fire. I took a deep breath and nodded. He drew the candle down my side and then slid himself further down the bed so he could place the glass between my legs. I gasped, feeling the heat warm me there, and Daxon slid his thumb through my curls to find that sensitive spot at the top of my sex. I moaned as he rubbed me in circles; lightly at first, and then firmly. I angled my hips up, but the candle shifted, and the heat became too much.

  Daxon had one hand on the candle, making sure that it wouldn't burn me, even when I reacted abruptly. But he also kept it in place so that I wouldn't move up into his touch. Just another form of control. I remembered what he had said to me once; that power wasn't about forcing someone to their knees, it was making them want to be there.

  “I'm giving you this pleasure, Seren,” Daxon said roughly. “You're not taking it this time.”

  Daxon lifted the candle above my body and tipped it over. The wax fell into my curls; the heat just enough to startle me. He dripped it all the way up my stomach, making little spots in the silk, and then coated my nipples in wax. I moaned as the warmth spread through my breasts with zinging lightness like the touch of electric feathers.

  Daxon blew out the candle and placed it on the bedside table before laying over my body. He squeezed my nipples, molding the wax around them until he finally pulled it free. As soon as the wax was gone, his mouth replaced it. He sucked and laved my breast along with my nipple, right through the silk. I wriggled beneath him, wanting to touch him so badly, and he angled his cock intimately against me. I was going mindless with wanting, and the proximity of his sex to mine was nearly too much to bear. I thought for sure that Dax would slide inside me then, and I saw it clearly in my mind; his flesh coated with my desire, going in and out of me until we came in screaming pleasure.

  But he drew away.

  I made a frustrated sound, and Daxon smiled at me.

  “It's the journey that counts, my love,” Dax said as he tenderly drew his hands over my body.

  Daxon combed his fingers through my curls, pulling the wax free; an action that stung slightly. But then he slid his fingers down my flesh and parted me. I sighed as Dax rubbed up into me, and then he crawled between my legs and set him mouth where his fingers had been.

  I shrieked in happiness this time.

  Daxon's hot tongue laved me, flicking against me expertly as his fingers slid inside. Hard sucking and then tender licks were interspersed with gentle rubs of his chin. He grabbed my thighs and spread them wide, the tight silk cutting into my flesh. But I didn't care because the next thing Daxon did was lick me from base to top; even there. I flinched through the strange feeling of that wet tongue on me. He eased away and then went back, circling and teasing those nerve endings he had mentioned. It felt so wrong to enjoy it, and perhaps that made it even better. I was panting—making sounds that I didn't know I could make—by the time he drew his tongue up to my sex and shoved it inside me.

  “Daxon!” I screamed as I nearly lifted off the bed.

  Daxon took his fill and then pulled away, licking his lips with a wicked smile as he reached for a pile of what looked like thin lengths of leather. It appeared to be a leather duster; a handle with strips of leather hanging in a bundle from it. Daxon sat up and flicked the thing across my sensitive flesh. I inhaled sharply, and he flicked it again—harder. I moaned as zings of pleasure shot up my legs and set my belly to shaking. Even the sound of it was sexy; a sharp thwack of command. Dax drew the thing gently over me, then flicked me one more time before repeating the process over my silk-wrapped skin. Through the silk, the flicks were softer, but they also vibrated out through the tense fabric. By the time he reached my breasts, I was quivering.

  “Dax,” I moaned.

  Daxon tossed the bits of leather aside then blew lightly across my nipples, but as he did, he manipulated the air into something with a frigid bite. I jerked and shivered under his icy breath. Dax blew the air downward, over my belly, and then he flipped me onto my stomach. He spread my legs wider as he continued to breathe down me. The chill crept over the back of my legs, then up my thighs. Then Daxon set his mouth to me, and his cold tongue flicked against my wet heat. It felt like I should have been able to hear the sizzle.

  Daxon crawled back up me, laying his cock between the cheeks of my ass—which were pushed tightly together by the silk. He shoved himself between my cheeks, the cloth holding him in place, and thrust against me. Another tease of flesh on flesh. He pushed my legs closed my legs with his and kept that sexy slide going as he leaned forward and bit my neck. I sighed as his teeth worried at my muscles, and then he kissed me, sucking on the abused skin.

  “Do you want me to release you?” Daxon murmured in my ear.

  “Yes.”

  “Beg me.”

  “Daxon, you son of a bitch!”

  “Beg me!” Dax snarled as he shoved me onto my back.

  “Please!”

  “Please what?” His tone gentled.

  “Please take this fucking silk off me.”

  “Now, that didn't sound so nice,” he teased.

  Daxon sat up and picked up the last item he'd taken from the chest. It was a piece of steel shaped like a bird's talon. He lifted it and showed it to me before laying the sharp point against the silk on my belly and drawing it lightly over the curve of my breast.

  “Please let me go,” I said.

  “Never, love,” Daxon leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “I'm never letting you go.”

  I shivered with desire.

  “But I will release your bonds.” He pressed harder, and the steel cut through the fabric.

  Daxon used just enough pressure to open the silk without slicing me, but it had a dangerous feel to it. My flesh pushed out of the cut fabric; freedom so close. The sensation was
a delicious near-relief, but he barely opened an inch before he moved on to another area. A slice across my stomach sent cool air over my belly. Dax paused to lick me there. Then another cut over the top of a thigh—and another lick. I cried out, my head tossing from side to side as he continued this methodical torture/pleasure all over my body, even going as far as turning me over and carving up the silk on my back.

  “What is this; the death of a thousand cuts?” I groaned out the question.

  “Only a little death,” Daxon purred. “La petite mort.”

  “Isn't that French for coming?” I asked.

  “Real classy, Seren. Did they teach you that in princess school?” Daxon teased. “And be patient; I promise I will take you there.”

  The silk was fraying, shredded into smaller ribbons, but it was strong stuff and held firm. Daxon finally straddled me and slid the talon straight down my front. He repeated the process down each leg—silk ribbons bursting out dramatically like the petals of a blossoming flower. A few layers continued to hold out defiantly, and Daxon took them in hand, casting his gaze up to mine. The muscles in his arms bulged as he tore the fabric open in one movement. Silk fluttered through the air, and my body was freed completely. I cried out in relief and ecstasy, every nerve ending coming alive.

  And at that moment, Daxon finally surged inside me. The feeling of his flesh sliding into me had been so anticipated, and the rest of my body had come alive with so much wanting, that I went liquid around him and came instantly. As I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pulled him deeper, Daxon drove into me with gentle force. But I couldn't take gentle for long; I needed more.

  I pushed on the mattress with my feet, driving up to meet his thrusts. Silk strips still clung to me, some trapped beneath my body, and as we writhed together, they wrapped us together in a tangle of passion and love.