by Kresley Cole
I quirked a brow. "No warm milk?"
"You have no idea how hard your body worked tonight. I want you to come down softly."
I took a sip of the juice--had to be the best I'd ever tasted. It was everything I could do not to chug it like a frat boy on a keg nozzle. "What do you mean by coming down?"
He eased closer to lick a drop of juice from my lip, making my lids grow even heavier. "Your blood is flooded with endorphins. That's why you felt--"
"High?"
"Precisely. But what goes up must come down."
"You'll be here to catch me when I fall?"
He curled his forefinger under my chin. "Vsegda." Always.
Tonight we'd gotten one thing figured out. Surely hurdles had been cleared. Now we would make strides together.
I kissed the crooked bridge of his nose, then buried my face against his chest. I ran my fingers through his thick hair, clutching it as I hugged this big, brave man close. I'd never felt so cherished. So protected.
He was my guardian angel, my friend, my dream lover.
Aleksandr Sevastyan was everything. Everything.
He pulled me back to meet my gaze, his hooded eyes like gold coins. "Revelation?"
I whispered back, "Obsessed."
At the town house, he kept me in his arms, sweeping me inside and up to our bathroom. The light was low, the whirlpool bath already bubbling.
When he peeled the robe from me and lowered me into the water, I wanted back in his arms. As if he disliked the distance just as much, he hastily stripped, then slid in beside me. He sat on the submerged bench, pulling me back into his lap, my shoulder against his chest.
"I could get used to this," I sighed. I'd read about kink aftercare and how important it was, but hadn't grasped how much I would need it. I felt like I'd been broken down to the most primal levels and now had to readjust to everything.
It was like lingering at the edges of a drug-induced high, produced from the cleanest-burning drugs imaginable.
He started kneading my shoulders. "I intend for you to get used to it. Tonight, I take care of you."
I felt his shaft stiffening beneath me and grinned to myself--more of him, this very night? And his massage! Kneading . . . kneading . . . So. Freaking. Good.
Once his big hands had rendered me into a heap of bliss, he began shampooing my hair, massaging my scalp until I was on the verge of drooling for the second time this night.
After rinsing the strands with a sprayer, he worked conditioner through them. I turned to watch him over my shoulder. His face was drawn with absorption, as if he truly wanted to get this right, to bathe me and care for me, just so. That melted my heart.
He caught me staring up at him like a fool. "Are you enjoying this part?"
"I loathe it."
He chuckled. I'd actually made him laugh? His lips were curling. Still not a full smile, but close.
His lightheartedness signaled so much to me, and I grew even more optimistic about our future. "You never thought I'd go through with it, did you?"
"I admit it." Finished with my hair, he smoothed the length over one of my shoulders, then grazed bath oil over my sore upper back.
"Any regrets?"
"I decided that if you were willing to go through that--your first real time--then you must want it badly." His cock pulsed against my bottom--because he was replaying those scenes? "I took you to a place that I thought of as sordid. And you saw beauty everywhere and felt hope. Maybe that club is what you make of it? What you bring to it."
"I believe that, especially now."
"I meant what I said earlier. You know your own mind. I'd forgotten that along the way."
"What do you mean?"
He lifted one of my arms, washing it from fingertips to shoulder before bathing my ticklish underarm. "In Nebraska I witnessed your drive when you set your mind to something. I saw how hard you worked; at everything, you tried so damned hard." He saw to my other arm. "I wanted to know how you could keep at it, with no guarantee of success."
"But you couldn't talk to me to ask."
"Could only watch you from afar." He reached for one of my breasts, thumbing my nipple. "Are these sore?"
I could barely keep my eyes open as he stroked me. "A little. But I kind of like it. A constant reminder of the things we did."
He made a sound of approval. "We've established that you're hot-blooded--and you know your own mind. Yet you were a virgin?"
When he moved to my other breast, my lids slid shut. "I had some bad experiences."
Dropping his hands, he tensed around me, gritting out one word: "Names."
My eyes went wide. "No, no, not like that! I had some unfortunate, clumsy experiences, I should say."
"I don't understand."
So I told him about the guy who spooged into his condom. "He fled after that, never to be heard from again. I wasted weeks on that guy."
"Now that I know what he'd been so close to experiencing, I could almost pity him."
Awww. "I dated another guy for a couple of months, but I'm pretty sure he was a subbie. There were a few others who just weren't worth the bother."
Looking back, I could see that I'd been waiting for a man's man--one older than me, a lot more dominant, with some rough and dangerous edges. In other words, not your typical UNL student.
"Their loss is my gain."
I trailed my nails over his forearm. "I didn't want to be a virgin. Do you know how challenging it was to be sex-positive and progressive on a college campus and still be virginal? At my age? It was like a dirty little secret."
In a grave tone, he said, "I'm glad I was able to be of service with that."
Grinning, I turned to face him better, hanging my legs over his outer thigh. "So what's your story?"
"Story?" He seemed disconcerted that the conversation had steered toward him.
"This is where we trade dating tales."
He gave me an I-got-nothing look.
"You really haven't spent a lot of time with women outside of sex, have you?"
"Not at all." He began massaging my feet, working bath oil up my surprisingly sore calves.
"How did you usually find, well, bedmates? I don't suppose there were mafiya mixers?"
He raised his brows at that. "I would go to a bar or a scene club and wait for a woman to approach," he said without conceit, just stating the facts. "I'd stay for the time span of a few drinks; the situation would either resolve itself or not."
My face flushed when I realized I'd been one of those approaching women. "So when I hit on you that first night, you equated me with them?"
He shrugged.
"You didn't date any of the women you slept with? No going to a movie or out for coffee?" I couldn't picture him doing either.
"Never."
"Aside from our dinners on the road, was tonight your first real date?"
"Yes." As I hid my surprise, he added, "How am I doing?"
My heart fluttered. "Judges' scores of ten."
He frowned. "I shouldn't have admitted that to you, I suppose."
"No, you should have. I love"--everything I learn about you--"hearing new things about you."
"My first date, your first flogging," he said with amusement.
"I adored what you did to me."
"Tonight I realized that I can torment you and treasure you. For you, it can be one and the same." His hands began ascending my legs. "And there's much more to show you."
My breaths shallowed. "I want to see it all."
"I'm having supplies delivered tomorrow. We'll take it slowly, but be prepared for wherever this leads us."
"You really knew your way around this stuff." Though I spread my thighs in welcome, he simply teased me with those light circles. "How long have you been doing it?"
"Awhile."
Evasive much? "Now will you tell me about your particular interests?" With his fingers at work, I fought to keep my concentration. "When did you recognize them?"
; He opened his mouth to answer, then closed it.
"Please tell me. I'd like to know, since I benefited from those interests so much."
"I will, one day. For now, I don't want to think that far back into the past." How far back? "Know this: before you, I participated, but now I see those encounters for what they truly were."
"What?"
His gaze held mine. "Practice."
"For me?"
"For you."
I couldn't stop the slow grin that spread over my face.
His eyes dipped to it, darkening. "There will be rules, Natalie." He reached between my thighs at last, palming me with a sure grip. "This is mine. I'm the only one who gets to pet you here. I plan to keep you well pleased, but if you ever need to come, you wait for me--or for my command."
"So I'm never to play with myself in front of a camera for you?" I wriggled over his erection, making him inhale sharply.
"I'll order you to do that again--at a time when I can properly enjoy it. I was in a meeting that day when I stole a look at you." Against my damp neck, he said, "I shot hard as rock, had to rush out of the building. The phone shook in my hand the entire way back to you."
His words sent a thrill through me. "Then I'll await your command."
"And my permission. You're not to come at all until you ask for--and receive--permission from me."
"I can live with that. Any other rules?"
"Yes, one." He pinched my chin. "Don't ever look at another man with lust, unless you want him dead."
I knew he meant that literally.
"You belong to me alone. No man could feel more possessive of a woman than I do you." His eyes mesmerized me, as if he could see into my soul. Right now, I felt more vulnerable with Sevastyan than I had in front of an audience of dozens. "Do you understand me?"
Gazing up at him, I nodded.
"Horosho." Good. "I think that deserves a reward." He settled me on the submerged bench--alone. Before I could protest he'd risen from the water.
Drops sluiced down those magnificent muscles, over his entrancing tattoos. Just the sight of his body made my achy nipples grow even harder, my pussy wetter.
After spreading another plush robe over the flat marble expanse at the edge of the tub, he lifted me to my feet. "Go to your knees and forearms on the robe." He helped me climb up.
Even out of the water, I felt floaty and boneless, letting him guide me into the position he desired--one that left me bare to his gaze.
"Now rest on the side of your face and straighten your arms back alongside your body. That's it. Ease your legs apart." Even more exposed? "Good. Keep this position." He moved behind me. "Just relax and accept what I'm going to do to you."
Which would be what exactly--
He grazed the head of his cock along the crease of my ass.
I gasped. Surely he wasn't going to do that?
"So sensitive." Another graze. "Why am I even surprised?"
Right when I was resigned, arching up for him to do whatever he wanted, he leaned down and began to kiss one side of my ass, light nips and licks where he'd whipped me.
"You're going to be sore here too." The other side of my ass received the same attention. "You were so exquisite with these bright pink lashes over your pale skin." He ran his face against the backs of my thighs. "I imagined how each one must have made you feel and nearly came just from the sight."
He moved his face between my legs, leaning in to my pussy. To kiss from this angle? That was so hot. . . .
With his first lick, I couldn't bite back a cry.
"You sound surprised." He teased my entrance with the tip of his tongue, then said, "You didn't think I'd let a day go by without tasting you here? There's a reason I call you milaya moya." My sweet. "I'll be irritable any day I don't get my fix of this." He kissed me like he would french kiss my mouth, with his tongue sweeping and seeking between my lips.
I moaned, already close. I wanted him to continue--but I was on fire for him inside me. "Sevastyan, please fuck me again."
"Can't. You must be tender. I don't want to hurt you." He parted me with his thumbs, setting in with even more hunger.
Panting, I said, "I-I can take it."
He moved lower to my clitoris. "This isn't enough?"
"Oh, God!" My hands curled into fists.
A dark chuckle sounded against my flesh. "Relax and accept." He kept licking and sucking, until I was in a crisis: not wanting to come without permission, but tripping along the brink.
"Sevastyan, can I--"
"No."
"Please let me come!"
"How?" he demanded.
"Wh-what?"
"How do you want to be made to come? Be more specific when you beg me. And hold your position if you want my mouth."
I forced myself to go limp. "Please keep doing what you're doing. Harder." My words were throaty with passion.
"Where? Be very specific." He was so domineering that my thoughts got scrambled for the thousandth time tonight.
"Please . . . lick my clit . . . until you make me come."
"Umm. Better." He was lording his sexual power over me, and I didn't know which one of us enjoyed it more.
As he bent down farther to better tongue my bud, he spread the globes of my ass, his fingers nearing my ring.
I couldn't believe I was about to say . . . "A-and touch me there at the same time."
All innocence, he asked, "Here, love?" just before his stiffened tongue speared inside my pussy.
I stamped the tops of my feet with frustration. "You know what I mean!"
"Ah yes, this." He gave me another frustrating/blissful thrust of his tongue.
Half out of my head, I whimpered. "Please lick my clit while you touch my ass."
Tone wry, he said, "Better still, then."
In a dim part of my brain, I comprehended that my ruthless hit man was playing with me, enjoying himself ! And I loved it.
He took my clit between his lips and drew wetly.
"Ah, God, ah, God . . ."
The pad of his thumb found my center--
I exploded, startling myself with my sharp scream. "Sevastyan!"
The pressure between my cheeks and around my throbbing clit wrung wave after wave from me as he suckled and played. . . .
Once he'd coaxed every last ounce of my release, he stood behind me, rasping, "Greedy girl. You came without permission? Tomorrow I'll punish you for that. Tonight you get a pass because you've pleased me so well."
Between breaths, I asked, "Now will you fuck me?"
"You can't tonight." He was stroking himself? "Besides, seeing you like this . . . I won't last long."
"Really?"
"If I donned a condom right now, I'd be sure to come in it."
Even in the midst of this, I couldn't choke back a laugh. Maddening, fascinating man!
I rested on my forehead, tucking my head under to watch him. Those tattoos on his arms rippled over his muscles as he worked his thick length.
He bit out, "If you knew what I was imagining right now, beautiful . . ."
My toes curled from his wicked tone, from his wickeder eyes.
"Do you want my cum to mark you?" He squeezed his fist even tighter, as if to hold back a flood of it.
In answer, I arched my back down, spreading myself wide--
He loosed an overpowered bellow. An instant later, a ribbon of heat landed across my ass. Hips working, he fucked his fist, striping my flesh with semen.
Each heavy lash was as scalding as the leather he'd used to whip me. He yelled out his pleasure over and over . . . until finally spent.
Breaths heaving, he said, "Look at the sight of my woman."
My face flushed. I could only imagine what I looked like--spread, vulnerable, my reddened bottom coated.
"I'm committing this to memory."
Heartbeats passed; his gaze lingered until I was squirming. "Sevastyan . . ."
Then we were down in the water again, and he was washing me off, l
avishing kisses and praise--which I lapped up, a kitten to cream.
He rose, toweled off, then scooped me from the water, lifting me as if I weighed nothing.
As dazed as ever, I let him towel me dry and carry me to bed. Beneath the covers, he lay on his back, pulling me against his side. Once I'd curled into him, he gave an exhalation--pure masculine satisfaction.
My ear was over his heart, its strong beat lulling me to sleep. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so relaxed, so . . . at peace.
I'd never felt so in love.
He tugged me even closer, saying against my hair, "You have pleased me above all things. I never knew I could feel such pride."
Just before I drifted off, I smiled sleepily. Tonight, we had taken a wrecking ball to the walls between us.
Tomorrow everything would be different with him. . . .
Chapter 37
Nothing is different, I thought as I paced the room. Not a damn thing . . .
Today I'd slept until after lunch--a full ten hours!--waking with a big grin on my face and the words man, my ass is sore on my lips. Only to realize I was alone.
Sevastyan hadn't left a note or a text, hadn't called.
I'd been completely out of sorts, feeling hungover, chilled, and jittery from my endorphin withdrawal. Despite having few residual marks, I'd felt like I'd been through the wringer.
Still did, even three hours later. And his absence continued to baffle me. Yes, I'd figured he was out doing secret syndicate business, but couldn't he have taken a day off? I never should've been out of the bed, should be snuggled up with him!
Why isn't he here for me? I paced faster as my imagination ran away with me. What if he did regret taking me to the club? What if he was filled with second thoughts? Why can't I get warm?
What if I'd disappointed him somehow?
Normally, panic would not be my go-to emotion. But after the physical and emotional extremes of last night, I felt like a spinning top.
I reached for my phone, even as I told myself, Not going to call him. I didn't want to come across as some needy chick who couldn't go without reassurance--merely because she'd been whipped, screwed, and forced to come in front of dozens of people just the night before. . . .
Earlier, I'd been staring at the phone, waffling, when Jess had called. After my tepid greeting, she'd demanded, "Where'd he take you last night? I'm dying to know--so bad I figured out how to call France!"
Once I told her all about my experience, she'd said, "You really let him string you up? In front of an audience? Aw, Nat, I'm just so darned proud of the woman you've become!" After a pause, she'd said, "Wait, you're lapping me sexually? I want my own membership to Cirque du Cock! Come on, you durrrty hussy, buy me one, huh, huh?"