Elite Metal-ARE-epub (68 page)

His throat worked, but he kept his distance, surveying her the way a man might study a slab of meat, but there was a sultry tinge to his gaze. He arched a finger in a circle, wordlessly demanding that she turn around so he could see all of her. She did. It made her head spin.

Ah, but that was nothing, nothing to when he touched her. His palm was rough against her skin, warm, calloused. He drew it down her spine and over the curve of her ass, only stalling a moment for a squeeze. He made a noise, something deep in his throat. Something feral.

He turned her again and skimmed over her breasts, pausing to take her tender nipples between his fingers in a tight pinch.

She hissed in a breath.

His gulp rocketed around the silent room.

She could tell he was struggling to contain himself. It was evident in the tremble of his touch.

“Kneel on the bench.” His voice, wreathed with intent and impatience, wobbled.

Sucking in a deep breath, she crossed to the bench—little more than a stool covered in velvet. He positioned her the way he wanted, with her belly over the seat and her ass high. The velvet was soft, but it abraded her hypersensitive nerves.

Hell, this whole scene abraded her nerves.

She was naked. Bare. Splayed before him. Utterly helpless.

Well, not utterly.

At least, not until he pulled her hands behind her and bound them with a length of Velcro.

“Try to get free,” he suggested. Surely it was a suggestion.

No matter how she twisted or turned her wrists, she could not loosen the ties.

He grunted with satisfaction.

She winced as his palm skated over her ass again. She knew what was coming, craved it. Ached for it. And yeah. Fuck yeah. His hand fell.

Once.

Twice.

Three times, four. Again and again in a crazed rhythm, pausing every now and again to heighten her tension. Relentlessly, he covered her, reddened her ass. Awoke her soul.

She loved it, but she couldn’t resist the urge to try to avoid the next smack, which pleased him, judging from his murmurs, his chuckle.

“I love to see you squirm,” he said.

Which made her squirm more.

With exquisite skill, he worked her, leaving no spot untouched, no nerve unfried. And through it all, she burned. She was breathless, weeping, dripping when he stopped. Still, she nearly wailed.
More,
something deep within howled.
More.

He kicked her legs farther apart and she sucked in a breath. And then, when she felt the scrape of Velcro around her thighs, she whimpered. Yeah. He had. He had tied her legs apart.

“How are you doing, Roni,” he whispered into her hair. “Are you okay?”

“Y-y-y-yes.” A lie. She wasn’t okay. She was aching.

“Yes,
Sir
.” A snarl.

“Yes, Sir.” She swallowed the drool in her mouth. Tried to toss her head so she could see, but in this position, it was hopeless. He had her draped over the stool on her belly, with her hands behind her back and her legs tied apart; her breasts were exposed, untouched. Her nipples pebbled. They ached for attention. She wiggled a little. “Please.”

“Can you take more?” This he said as he drew a heinous finger along her slit, dabbing at her throbbing clit.

She sucked in a breath. “Yes. Yes. Please.”

The slap, straight to her core, shocked her. “Yes,
Sir
. Please,
Sir
. Come on, Roni. Don’t be difficult.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He rewarded her by sinking his fingers, three of them, deep into her cunt. It was glorious. Delicious. Devine. She nearly came. But he would not allow that. “Ah, ah, ah. Not until I give you permission.”

Holy fuck.

Her body shook.

He wiped his wet fingers on her ass, which was nearly soothing, and then he turned his attention to her breasts. Plucking, pulling, teasing, he drove her higher. At the same time, he toyed with her clit, circling it, scraping it, tugging until she wanted to dissolve.

“Sterling…” she hissed as she felt her orgasm approach.

He stilled. “Did I give you permission to call me that?” A bark. “You call me Master or Sir when we’re like this. Understand?”

“Yes, Master. But…”

“But what?”

“I can’t… I can’t… I can’t take much more.”

In a heartbeat, he retreated. It was cold in his absence. His voice was incongruously warm. “Do you need to take a break?”

“No!”

“Then what can’t you take?”

“The teasing. Please…” She gulped and then added, because she knew she probably should, “Sir.”

His chuckle made her shudder. It was ominous and wicked.

She flinched as something soft touched her clit. She nearly howled when she realized it was his breath.

“You can’t take it?” he said silkily. And then, God help her, he lapped.

His tongue was soft and rough at the same time, warm and sweet. It sent a trickle of delight through her, and horror at the same time.

Because she wasn’t allowed to come. Not until he gave her permission.

Fuck!

She tightened her muscles against the welling bliss, fought it off, the maelstrom, the beast stalking her.

“Please,” she wept as it prowled closer. “Please. Please. Please.”

He blew out a laugh, though there was tension threaded through it. He moved away again and his absence made her want to die. But then, she heard it. The most delicious sound in the world.

The slow, harsh slide of his zipper.

“Roni,” he said as he moved in behind her. His hands were hard on her ass; it still stung, but in a hot and sizzling way. He pulled her cheeks apart, tugging on the tender flap of her clit. Something nudged her. Something hard and hot and covered in latex. She hissed in a breath.

“Are you ready?”

“God, yes,” she snarled, and before she completed the words, he thrust.

And fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
It was perfect. His cock filled her, completed her, nudged at her sanity. The bliss, which had been hovering over her like a sword, descended, cleaving her in twain.

She clenched around him and thrust back into him and wriggled and wailed. And he pounded. Like a madman, he pounded into her, yanking her forward and back as far as her restraints would allow.

It was magnificent, horrible, delicious, all at the same time. Being helpless, suffering his control, being unable to direct any of the action, sawed at her every nerve. But at the same time, it freed her, released her, allowed her to do nothing…but feel.

And ah. How glorious it was. She let go, let fly, let him have her, all of her.

And bless him, he knew what he was doing.

Just when her orgasm began to wane, just when she started to float back down into herself, he would smack her or stroke her or rub against her and she would skitter off again into the ether.

She had no idea how long her orgasm lasted, but it seemed like a lifetime. All the while, he took her and continued taking her, nudging her deeper and deeper into the dark haven of his embrace.

When his cock lengthened, when his thrusts became faster and harder and shorter, when his breath broke and his cry enrobed her, she was filled, flooded with the most magnificent satisfaction.

Because he had given her a precious gift.

And she had given it back.

Together, they collapsed. She, on the bench, and he, on her, his weight like a blanket.

When he had recovered, he gently untied her, kissed each and every mark he’d made. His voice was low and tight as he asked if she was okay. When she nodded, he lifted her and carried her to his bedroom. He laid her on her back on the bed and kissed her again. His lips kicked up as he drew her hands above her head. The smile lit his eyes as he slipped on a new pair of cuffs, these soft and furry, but restrictive nonetheless.

She gave a little tug, just to test her limits, and a shaft of heat walked through her. Yep. She was bound to his bed and utterly helpless. And sated though she was, a new arousal flared. There was more. There would be more.

Though, apparently, not yet. It annoyed her that he kissed her again, gently, reverently, and then left her there, tied to the stupid bed, as he went to make a pizza.

That had been amazing.

Freaking amazing and satisfying as hell.

As hard as it had been to kiss her and leave her, Sterling needed some space…to process. As he tossed a pizza into the oven, he struggled to find his center again, and at the same time, wondered if he needed to.

Granted, it had been a long time since he’d known such bliss, such a connection, but that could not explain the effect she had on him.

She gutted him.

Plain and simple.

Tying her up, spanking her. Tormenting her and making her call him
Sir
? Fuck. That was nothing.

She took it all. Welcomed it. Wanted it. Begged for more.
Begged.

She was perfect.

He was lost.

He glared at the oven, where the supreme pizza baked. His disgruntlement didn’t stem from his displeasure with her, with what they’d shared. Quite the opposite in fact. But it ate at him that she was embroiled in this mess with Morrow. It ate at him that she wasn’t safe.

And she wasn’t his.

Not really.

Not yet.

When the pizza was done, he cut it and plated it and, leaving it on the table, he went back into the bedroom. He stopped as his gaze lit on her. There, lying on his bed, arms over her head, eyes closed, a blissful smile on her face. And it hit him again, hard and deep.

He wasn’t sure what this emotion was, but it felt like need.

Need to have her, hold her, protect her.

Her lashes fluttered open as he sat on the bed by her side. She gazed up at him in silence. Her expression made something coil in his gut.

Gently, he smoothed a curl from her cheek. Tucked it behind her ear. “How are you doing?” he asked.

Her response was a smile. One that lanced him to the core. He had to kiss her, but he did so on her brow so he would not be tempted to reach for more. He had worked her, and worked her hard, tonight. She needed to recuperate. Hence the pizza.

“Hungry?”

She nodded and he released one hand—kissing her wrist—and then the other. He helped her sit, although she probably didn’t need the help. But he needed it. The touch. The connection. The reassurance.

He helped her dress too—because it pleased him—slipping her sweet body into his robe. It was far too large for her, but he liked seeing her in it. It was probably a foolish fancy, but he imagined it as something of a brand of ownership. A claim.

He’d like to see her always wearing something of his.

They made their way into the kitchen without a word, and he pulled out her chair for her. She flicked a hooded look at him as she sat. Hooded, yes, but he read it. He read her. Without asking, he got her a beer and one for himself as well and then slid the plate toward her.

For someone who didn’t like pizza, she sure could wolf it down. She ate her half and then part of his, but he didn’t complain. She needed to fuel. There was still the rest of the night stretching before them. The thought made him smile.

When the pizza had been demolishedand the beer bottles were empty, he led her into the living room and sat on the sofa, pulling her onto his lap. He loved the way she felt in his arms as he cradled her. She nestled against him, wrapping her arms around him. He pressed his lips to her brow.

Though their meal had been silent, a conversation without words, they needed to talk now.

“So…” he began, and then his thoughts stalled because she kissed his chin.

She shot him a smile. He was pleased that it was filled with mischief. He was pleased that their play had not stifled her spirit. “So?” she asked.

“Did you…enjoy that?”

She made a noise that sounded like a snort. “Couldn’t you tell?”

Why he suddenly felt so uncertain, he didn’t know. He was not an uncertain kind of guy. “It seemed so, but I need to hear it from you.”

She framed his face in her hands. Stared into his eyes. “I did. I did enjoy it. That was…” She shook her head, as though words escaped her.

“I had the sense you’ve…never done this before?” He had to ask. Had to be sure. If they were to continue, he needed to know how far, how fast, he could take her.

She tucked her face into the crook of his neck. He allowed it, because he sensed she needed to shield herself, at least a little. “I’ve wanted to. But couldn’t.” He didn’t ask why. He knew she would tell him…eventually. “But it’s something I’ve fantasized about. Craved.” She drew a hand over his chest. “A big, strong, dominant man…”

He caught her wrist. As much as he loved her touch, he couldn’t allow himself to be incited to more. Not yet. In an attempt to placate her, he kissed her palm. “We do seem…well matched.”

She chuckled. “We do.”

“I…” He had no idea why the words clogged his throat. “I would like to continue this…exploration with you.”

He loved that she shivered. He loved the light in her eyes. He loved her soft, dreamy smile. “So would I.”

“But I need something from you first.”

His heart clenched when her smile faltered. “I… What?”

“I need to know I’m the only one.” It was a deep, dark, growling ache. Something necessary to him. Something raw and weeping.

He had no idea why she laughed. He shot her an offended glance. “Are you serious?” She thumbed the scruff on his jaw.

Fucking A. “Serious as hell.”

“Jesus, Sterling. Don’t you know? Can’t you see?”

He narrowed his eyes. Set his teeth.
See what?

“I’m not interested in any other man.”

Something released, blossomed within him. But, still… “You seemed pretty interested in Ant, who has a girl, by the way. A girl he’d fight to the death for and beyond.” Surely that was not a petulant tone. It should have come out as a growl.

She leaned up and kissed him. “I know.”

He blinked. “You know?”

How she managed that innocent look, he had no clue. “Beth joined us for lunch.”

“She…?”

“Those two are crazy in love.”