Chapter 20 #2
He chuckled. “I’m not sure you’re in any position to be making demands, sweetheart, but this one, I’m happy to oblige.” His hand came down in a hard strike. Her whole body jerked, and she let out an embarrassing yelp.
This time, he didn’t take his hand away, but trailed his fingers up and down her oversensitive flesh. The abrupt switch from pain to pleasure was almost too much to take, and she couldn’t help slamming her thighs shut.
“No,” he chided. “Open for me, Lea.”
Squeezing her eyes closed, she obeyed, bracing herself for more sensation. But his touch was gentle, feather-light. Need grew, drawing taut and sharp. She squirmed, seeking more friction, but he didn’t give it to her.
He slid his other hand into her hair, pulling just enough to draw her head back, forcing her spine to arch. “I want to hear you beg for what you want.”
“What?” Her cheeks flamed. “Can’t you just—just—”
“Just what?” he asked, sounding amused.
“Just fuck me,” she bit out.
He let out a dark laugh. “That would be remarkably unoriginal. Besides, I don’t think that’s what you really want.” His thumb circled her most sensitive spot, and she quivered. “It’s this, isn’t it?”
She gave a hasty, eager nod.
He completed one slow, delicious circle. “Yes, what you really want is to come like this, in my arms, on your knees for me. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” she confessed, the syllable turning into a moan as he increased the pressure of his fingers.
“Well, if that’s what you want, you have to beg for it.”
Lea ground her teeth. She had not been prepared for a request like this. She could take pain, and apparently she didn’t even mind being restrained—but having to say, out loud, what she wanted? To beg him to touch her? It made embarrassment crawl over her skin.
“Touch me,” she attempted. The words came out gruff, an order rather than a plea.
He snorted. “Is that the best you can do?”
She tried again. “I want you…to touch me…please,” she added through gritted teeth.
“Better,” he murmured, rewarding her with a lazy stroke of his fingers over her aching core. “But still room for improvement.”
She shuddered at his touch. “Please,” she gasped, her pride splintering. “More. I need more. Please, Kallias.”
“Mm.” Finally, the pressure and rhythm of his fingers became more purposeful, giving her the stimulation she craved. “Yes, that’s what I like to hear, sweetheart.”
Her body quaked as he worked her with his hand, straining, arching, quivering as he brought her closer and closer. “Yes,” she hissed. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
His other hand lifted to her throat, fingers wrapping around it in a light but possessive grasp. That was what finally undid her, and the climax rolled over her in a powerful, consuming wave.
“Yes,” he growled in her ear as she shuddered against his hand. “More, Lea. Give me more.” He kept touching her, wringing every bit of pleasure from her body until she had to beg him to stop.
She collapsed backward against him. She couldn’t move. Didn’t want to move, possibly ever again. All she wanted was this blissful feeling of being supported in his arms. Nowhere to go, nothing to do.
He stroked a soothing hand over her hair, fingers brushing her forehead, as her breathing slowly returned to normal.
She had the vague sense that there was something missing, something she should do—something involving touching him, perhaps?—but she couldn’t summon anything more specific than that.
His fingers worked at the ties around her wrists, and they fell away. She stared at her hands as if she’d never seen them before. Thin red marks circled each wrist, a temporary remnant of the bindings.
“Let me help you stand,” Kallias murmured. He rose, crossed in front of her, and slid his hands beneath her shoulders, gently supporting her to her feet. Her knees ached as they stretched, and her feet had just started to fall asleep.
Lea sagged against him, clutching his shoulders, and he caught her. She felt nearly as dizzy and befuddled as she had after consuming the dreamfish—though with none of the frantic anxiety that had plagued her then. Now, she felt completely safe, warm and floating.
As her body made contact with his, she felt the bump of his erection against her hip.
Yes, that was what she’d forgotten about in her haze of pleasure—her desire to touch him, which she hadn’t done nearly enough of in their two encounters so far.
She reached for him, and her hand brushed his arousal through the fine linen of his tunic.
He groaned at her touch. “We can just go to bed,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’ve exhausted you.”
Bed sounded very nice, but not in the way he was suggesting. Some stability had returned to her legs, so she grasped the sleeve of his tunic and led him over to the bed, tumbling into it beside him. She wasted no time in rucking up his tunic and wrapping her hand around his cock.
“Lea—you don’t have to—” he hissed.
She shushed him. “I want to please you.” Her hand slid up and down his length. “Is this all for me?” she murmured as she stroked him.
“Well, there’s certainly no one else here,” he managed, voice unsteady.
She chuckled. “I like knowing I made you this way.”
He made another little noise, low and desperate, so she kept talking. He seemed to like it when she talked. Her inhibitions had vanished, and the words came easily now. “Me, on my knees, helpless, letting you do all sorts of wicked things to me. What was your favorite? What pleased you the most?”
His breath came fast now, ragged and unsteady. “Gods, Lea, the sounds you made when I—when I slapped you…I thought I was going to lose control.”
His panted words made fresh pleasure flare inside her.
“I liked letting you hurt me there,” she whispered.
“It felt…wrong, and dark, and delicious.” She moistened her lips, and when his gaze snapped to the movement, another idea occurred to her—a different way to bring him pleasure. “Do you want me to use my mouth?”
“I’m already enjoying the way you’re using it right now.”
She grinned. “Perhaps next time I’m on my knees for you, we can try that. I bet you’d like that.”
“Yes,” he sighed. “I’d like it very much.”
“Maybe you could even bind my hands again. I bet that would make it feel even better for you.” Her own breath was coming faster, wrapped up in the fantasy she was creating.
It should be embarrassing to say things like this, but it was impossible to feel abashed when Kallias was shuddering beneath her hand, an agony of lust in the tight planes of his face.
He groaned an unintelligible phrase in Greek, then his hips bucked, and his seed bathed her hand. She kept stroking him, slow and steady, until the tremors eased and he grasped her hand to move it away.
He flung an arm over his face, chest heaving. Lea surveyed him with a smile of satisfaction. He looked undone, shattered—just as she’d been earlier.
She rose and took the liberty of rifling through his chest of drawers until she found a rag, which she used to clean them both up. Then, she curled herself beside him, and he slid his arms around her.
“This is a much more pleasant sleeping arrangement than the last time you were here,” he murmured against her cheek, his voice slurred. “Just please try not to kick me in the stomach when you wake up.”
She gave a weary chuckle. “I’ll do my best.”