I first saw him sitting in the café of the hotel where I worked. He glanced up, eyes scorching green, and smiled at me. Our gazes locked. I don’t know why my body reacted the way it did—all tingly and hot as though I’d been struck by a bolt of lightning, but I smiled back. I’d never felt such an instant attraction. Not even with Nick, the man I’d been in a two year relationship with. The man, whom I foolishly believed, would never cheat on me.
The compelling stranger grabbed his tablet, stood up from the table, and gestured with his head to follow him. And in that moment I knew. I knew he would ruin me, and I would let him.
Cover art: Jay Aheer
Heat Level: 5
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance, Multiple Partner, BDSM
The edge of the leather danced around my right breast in agonizing slowness. Stroke. Glide…. Retreat.
“Cause and effect,” he said, and today his British accent was more pronounced. Did touching me unravel some of his control, even a little? “Have you ever considered the concept?”
“Not really,” I managed to say.
I shook my head, fanning the strands of my dark hair across the crisp white pillow.
“Well then. Let us consider the idea. Shall we?”
Before I could respond, the leather, followed by his fingertips, circled my areola.
“Cause is when every action produces a certain response to that action in the form of another event.” My nipples pebbled. He brushed the pad of his thumb over one of my taut nubs and goose bumps humped my flesh. “Effect,” he said, gazing down at me with piercing green eyes. A lock of his long, silken-black hair caressed his sculptured cheekbone. My pulse went wild.
Without another word, he slipped the blindfold over my eyes.
“Wait,” I uttered.
I felt him. His lips. They were pressed to the hollow below my ear when I heard his, “Shh….”
My naked frame quivered in excitement. Anticipation. Fear. This man was everything I shouldn’t crave. Everything I shouldn’t want. He would ruin me, and I would let him, because even though I knew I needed to put a decisive end to what was going on between us, I couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. I’d become a moth to his flame, intent on being burned up by insatiable desire.
The binding around my right wrist cinched tighter. A moment later came the tightening of the left. Control. He had total control over my body. I went rigid. A storm of emotion let loose inside of me and wreaked havoc. Unable to stop, I slipped my bottom lip between my teeth. Bit down.
“Makayla.” He gave me his velvet voice. As an anchor? A scolding? “Stop.”
A scolding, I realized and instinctively turned my head in the direction of the sound.
I waited for him to say more. To touch me. To do something to prevent me from thinking. To tell me everything would be okay. Take away this ache. To give me absolution. My thoughts, blurred within a haze of lust. Would he be the one who would make the decision I seemed incapable of and release me?
He didn’t do any of those things. He wouldn’t provide a quick release for the sexual ache. No physical freedom from the restraints. No Forgiveness for the wanton thoughts and feelings, nor the words to pardon them. So, the passing of time became measured in breaths….
Forty-two breaths later—a flick to my erect nipple sent a jolt of heat skipping across my torso and caused me to part my lips with a shuddering moan. Another leathery stroke swept along the line of my collarbone. Swirled within the hollow of my throat. Dropped between my breasts. Tickled my ribs. Inched lower. When he tapped my navel with the tip of the crop, I jerked—stomach trembling.
Once more he stopped. Minutes, or hours, or forever went by without his touch. The blindfold kept me from seeing, but my other senses were heightened. I became aware the only noise in the room was my own raspy respirations and the hum from the hotels air conditioning unit. Would he leave me? The thought of being left, exposed and quivering, took me under in a maelstrom of panic. I lifted my head and strained to hear him.
Did he leave?
I tugged at my restraints, making my wrists and ankles pull at the ties which were secured to the spindles of the bed.
“Look at you,” he said. “Straining and writhing.”
The relief I experienced, knowing he was still with me, was palpable. “I thought you—”
“Left?” he asked.
The sensation of his knuckles gliding along my jaw brought me back to him. He always knew how to bring me back to him.
“Do you really believe I would leave you?”
“Yes.” I swiped my tongue over my lips. “No. I don’t know,” I admitted.
His low chuckle was another flashpoint of sensation to hold on to.
“Let me put your mind at rest.” He skittered the implement of his seduction—of my pleasure—of my torture, over my hip, along my inner thigh, down my calf. A tap to the arch of my foot caused me to twitch and gasp. There was no other sensation for a long moment, and then I felt him slither the edge of the leather up my other leg until he rested the small patch on my bare mound, rapping out an erotic pattern in not quite stinging blows. Delicious sparks flowed to my clitoris and buzzed. “Leaving you…” He worked my flesh. Tap-tap. Retreat. “Is not an option.”
I lost my ability to reason when he placed his large palm just above my mound of Venus and pressed.
“Please,” I begged in a whisper. “Make the ache stop.”
“Is that what you desire? A quick, measly orgasm?”
“Yes,” I said then paused. “I mean. My orgasm won’t be measly. I feel like you are going to burn me to the bone.”
With what felt like the heel of his hand still pressing on me, he parted my feminine folds with his strong fingers. Cool air kissed me, intimately.
“Ah…. Well, I want you to burn for me, so why would I make this fast?”
“Because,” I mumbled.
“I intend for you to beg me to come, Makayla.”
He tapped the leather against my inner thigh.
“I am begging you.”
“I want more,” he said.
“Will you give yourself over to me completely?” he asked.
I bit at the inside of my cheek.
He moved the crop between my legs and patted the supple leather up my labia, stopping just shy of my stimulated clit. “Will you?”
A moaned escaped. Moisture pooled between my legs and I wanted to lift my hips upward, give my pussy to him in offering, but his hand held me in place.
“Answer me, Makayla.”
“Yes,” I rasped.
He pinched my clit, rolling the tantalized flesh between his fingers. I bucked. “Will you give me your pleasure how I demand?”
My pussy fluttered, reveling in the stern edge of his voice. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?” He slid his finger between my wet crease.
“Y-Yes. I will.”
“You will what? Give me the rest. I want to hear you say the rest.”
“I will give you my pleasure in every way you demand,” I uttered.
I heard and felt him move. Three heartbeats passed. To my left, the mattress dipped. An intake of breath gave me the exotic, spiced aroma of his cologne the instant before his warm breath bathed my throat, my chin….
“Good girl,” he said, cupping the entirety of my sex with his hand and took full possession of my mouth with his.