His mouth moved to my ear. “Now you may beg me,” he whispered, as though reading my mind.
I did beg, sobbing as I did so, the strap falling from my mouth, his permission acting as a floodgate. I begged with heartfelt feeling. He pulled out of me slowly when I’d finished. His mouth moved to the spot between my neck and shoulder, right on the tendon, that perfect sensitive spot, and he bit down savagely at the same moment that he plunged into me, hammering into me with the hardest, fastest thrust. It was a wonderful, brutal angle, my hips held immobile in his hands. I had no way to move with him or away from him, even my toes lifted slightly off the floor.
He bottomed out in me, reaching the end of me with a vicious twist of his hips.
He was making this perfect little noise low in his throat, deep but almost helpless, as though he couldn’t believe what was happening every time he slammed into the end of me. The third time he made that noise, I came, screaming.
He didn’t stop, still pounding , one hand snaking from my hip and up over my tortured breast. It hurt, my skin raw, but that pain seemed to jolt directly from my breast to deep inside my sex, where his stiff cock still worked furiously.
The second release caught me like that, a mix of pleasure and pain, jolting through the parts of my body that he played like an instrument. I was perfectly tuned, but only to his expert touch.
His thrusts stuttered for a moment, the hand at my hip sliding forward from my hip and his finger began to circle my clit. He resumed his pace, the arm now anchored over me from waist to pelvis and his other hand still a vise on my breast. His hardness rocked into me with that furious pace.
He slammed, slammed, slammed, his breathing harsh and ragged enough that I could hear it over my own uncontrollable mewling.
“Come,” he ordered roughly.
I shuddered as the waves of pleasure took me for a third time. He allowed himself to come with me that time, and I felt him shuddering and pouring inside of me, making those sounds I loved deep in his throat.
His hard arms wrapped around my waist, his cheek touching the top of my head.
Was the tender lover back? I wanted that, had never wanted it more. I needed some reassurance that this coldness that had overtaken him wasn’t permanent. Only a night of it and I felt emotionally bereft.
But he released me quickly, pulling out of me, and I heard the chains clanking together as my arms went a little slack. It put me more solidly onto my feet, but my knees gave way almost instantly. The cuffs caught me right away, since he’d only lowered me a few inches.
“Get your balance back. Get some weight onto your feet,” James ordered, lowering the chain a few more inches.
I put more weight on my feet, catching my balance slowly, shifting from foot to foot until I felt like I could stand without aid. It took awhile.
He unwound the chains above me until I was taking all of my weight. He unlatched my cuffed hands. I didn’t have to hold my own weight for more than a split second before he swept me off my feet, cradling me like a child as he carried me across the room.
I stroked my cheek along his bare, sweaty chest. He felt divine. He smelled divine.
He laid me down on a firmly cushioned surface. It felt like being on an examination table at the doctors office. I hadn’t seen anything like it the last time I’d been in his playground, but I’d only been there once before, and I’d been more than a little distracted at the time He drew my cuffed hands above my head, fastening them there. I tested the restraint. I didn’t even have an inch of slack. He fastened my feet to the bottom of the table, parted slightly. He used soft straps of some kind on each of my ankles, though I couldn’t have said what they were. I was still blindfolded, and it wasn’t anything he’d ever used on me before. I tested those restraints as well. There was no give at all. He definitely couldn’t fuck me in this position. My legs wouldn’t part far enough with the way I was bound.
I writhed a little at that realization, suddenly afraid of what he did plan to do.
He slapped the front of my thigh, hard. “Don’t move,” he ordered, his voice all dominance, with no hint of affection.
My tender lover was still missing. I didn’t think there was anything that I wouldn’t endure to get him back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
A little shriek escaped my lips as I felt cold metal grip one of my nipples firmly.
I felt James untying my blindfold, and suddenly I could see again. He had what looked like tiny smooth metal forceps holding my nipple captive. The end was a small hoop that fit perfectly around my hardened nipple. He reached into a drawer inside the table with his free hand, pulling out a marker. He bent close to my chest as he carefully marked my nipple on both sides.
His hands were covered in latex gloves that I hadn’t heard him put on, though he must have done so sometime since he had bound me to the table. His eyes were intent, studying the marks he’d made.
Finally, he put the pen away, pulling out a thick needle with a sharpened end. I could see that it was hollowed out in the middle, but I was still surprised at how big it was, how intimidatingly thick.
He smiled slightly as he saw my eyes widen as I studied the needle. “You ready to be pierced?” he asked, his voice wicked.
I studied him. He still wore his slacks, though the top button was undone. He was shirtless, and I could see my name in crimson over his heart. Somehow, I had almost forgotten about his new tattoos. The crimson lettering was startling and lovely against all of his golden skin.
He had his hair tied back, the first time I had seen him do that, so he could work on the piercing without his hair in his eyes. Some people were more beautiful with hair framing their faces, but it didn’t matter with James. He was exquisite even without all of that caramel hair falling artfully into his face. His face was just too perfect for it to affect his looks either way.
“You’re so beautiful,” I told him. I couldn’t seem to keep it in.
He sent me a very hot glance. He loved my admiration, I could tell. Even in this cold mood, he wasn’t immune. “You think flattery will distract me?”
I blinked at him. It wasn’t flattery. It was fact. “You’re magnificent.”
He didn’t respond, just pulled my nipple taut with the tongs, digging the thick needle into my skin. I held my breath, waiting for him to drive it in. I couldn’t seem to look away.
He surprised me when he pulled back, opening the drawer underneath me and dropping the needle and forceps inside. By the look on his face, he’d surprised himself.
He stripped off the latex gloves, tossing them aside. His eyes were on my breasts as he bent down to me, sucking on the abused nipples. He did it with singleminded focus, drawing on the flesh like his life depended on it.
I writhed beneath his ministrations, though my movements were hampered considerably. My head was bent forward as far as it would go and I watched him. His eyes were closed as he suckled there. His hands cupped my breasts from the sides, pushing them close together. He moved to my other breast, opening his eyes to gaze up at me, watching me as he very deliberately lapped at the flesh and then sucked so hard that a shudder went through my body, the sensation causing a shock of pleasure to shoot directly to my core.
He didn’t lift his head when he spoke, his breath punching at my skin, his eyes steady and heavy-lidded on mine. “I’m going to drink your milk like this when you breastfeed our children.” He bent down and began to suck again, drawing at it with hard suction, as though the large globes were already filled with milk. His words made my sex clench.
I told myself to reprimand him for saying something so outrageous. To imply that we would have children was stepping over a line, and saying that he would nurse on me like a babe, well, that was just wrong, but my body didn’t care. It thrived on any kinky thing that came out of his mouth.
He straightened. My hips were making little twisting motions even as he pulled away. He watched them, his eyes almost lazy, the lids were so heavy.
“I can’t pierce you yet. I won’t be able to suck on your nipples, or even play with them, while the piercings heal. That will take months. I just can’t bear to do it yet. Perhaps in a week or two.” He released my ankles as he spoke, and then my arms, swiftly releasing my cuffs. It always amazed me how quickly he untied my restraints, as though he’d been trained to do it. For all I knew, he had.
He cradled me against him. “Put your arms around my neck, Love,” he murmured, striding from the room.
Even his voice had changed. It had softened between one moment and the next. The tender lover was back. My James was back.
“I missed you,” I murmured against his sweaty chest.
He gazed down at me, and I could see real surprise in his eyes as he stepped into the elevator car. “I can’t shirk my duties to you, as your dom. I know what you need, Bianca. And I need you to know that no one else can give it to you like I can.” He punched the button, and we began to ascend as he spoke.
I wanted to respond, but he gripped my hair and leaned down to kiss me. It was a desperate kind of kiss, not altogether practiced. He ate at my mouth like he was starving for me, as though the distance he had put between us had affected him as well. He licked at my mouth, sucking at my injured bottom lip.
It hurt, but I didn’t mind hurting, and I kissed him back with all of the pent-up longing he had built in me over the cold evening. There was so much I wanted to tell him, about my feelings, about his, and I tried to put it into the kiss. I was much better at communicating my feelings to him in this manner.
The elevator stopped and he stepped off, still kissing me, as he strode to his beautiful bed. He laid me on it, pulling away to push his slacks off impatiently. It took the briefest moment, and he was back, arranging me in the middle of the bed.
He parted my legs wide, moving his hips between them, lowering his chest to mine. He was propped up slightly on his elbows, and he moved those elbows almost into my armpits so he could cup my face as he stared down at me.
His eyes were so tender and soft that an embarrassing tear slid down my cheek. His thumb caught it, and he pressed his thick arousal against my sex, pressing that first perfect inch inside of me. He entered me very slowly at first, though I was slick from arousal and the shared fluids from our last bout of fucking.
“I missed you,” I told him again, and he groaned, moving into me more forcefully, but with the smoothest strokes.
“I’m glad,” he told me with the softest smile. “I’m relieved that you want more than just the dominant side of me.”
I wanted so badly right then to tell him that I loved him, but the words wouldn’t form past the lump in my throat. I kissed him instead, gripping my hands in his silky hair and pulling him down to me.
He seemed pleased with that, kissing me back with a moan. His thrusts increased into that steady pounding that he’d taught me to love, and I melted under him, an exquisite orgasm building inside of me. I cried out into his mouth as I came, and he joined me, his own cries just as loud, just as desperate, as mine had been.
“You’re mine,” he told me, but it was a tender admission that time.
He crushed me under him when we’d finished, as though he didn’t even have the energy to roll off of me, when he was the most inexhaustible of men.