8
Rayne
What You Like
A smoldering cherry plummeted to the flagstones, and I crushed it beneath my boot. When I looked up again, Salem’s eyes were fixed on the charcoal smudge, her expression impossible to read. I wanted to open up her head, see what made her tick, watch the inner machinations churn.
“If I scare you,” I said, “then why do you fantasize about me?”
My thighs clenched at the thought of last night, the memory of her naked, all slick skin and blushing cheeks.
“I’m... I’m into, um...” The words almost choked her.
She still hadn’t lifted her eyes. “I’m into being dominated.
I like, um...” Her cheeks flushed bright red and she finally looked up.
The implosion threatening to consume me went supernova, overtaking my logic as I looked quickly up and down the walkway, then took her hand.
Guiding her down a few steps, we slipped into a small alcove that sheltered us from view.
Yellow and red leaves swirled around our feet, crunching beneath our shoes.
As we crowded together, desire locked my chest around my hammering heart, threatening to crush my lungs as I was torn between fear and desire.
I’m not supposed to do this.
“Take a deep breath,” I said, as much to myself as to her. “Inhale while I count. One... two...”
She nodded, breathing with me. Her chest pressed to mine, and I could feel her nipples through her shirt, pebbled from the cold. Her breath was as warm as her eyes, inviting me closer, silently begging for more.
I need to walk away. Leave her alone. Don’t involve her.
God, but I was weak. I touched the scratch on her face again, my fingers too cold, too rough. Like touching silk with sand-paper. But her lips parted with a soft breath, and she leaned into my touch like she wanted it, like she was eager for it.
Barely above a whisper, I said, “Tell me what you like.”
“I like domination,” she said. It took all my self-control not to shove her back against the wall and kiss her.
She couldn’t have known how those words would affect me, how her desire would sing to mine like a siren song.
“I like feeling a little afraid. It’s like a freefall. Like diving into the ocean.”
“The ocean will swallow you alive,” I warned. “You’ll drown, and the deeper you go, the darker it will get.”
Don’t do it, Rayne. She deserves so much better than you.
“I don’t care,” she said. “I know what I like.”
Her mouth was so close, her body—I didn’t dare touch her, not yet.
Part of me wanted to shake her and say, God, please don’t tempt me .
The other part wanted to rip through those little buttons on her cardigan, tear through the shirt beneath, and take her right there.
The idea alone was torturously arousing, and I was sweating despite the cold air.
When she looked up at me, I swore she could see into my soul. I’d always been a closed book, but she was reading me anyway. She unbuttoned her cardigan and shrugged it off her shoulders, and I groaned in defeat.
“I can’t promise you anything good,” I said. “There’s a reason I don’t bring people back here, Salem. There’s no light at the end. There’s no happy ending.”
“I don’t need empty promises,” she said. She touched her finger, the one with the imprint of an absent ring. “And I don’t need another ending.”
She loosened the belt on her waist, popped open the button on her trousers.
My sharp inhale was painfully shallow, but I couldn’t manage to draw another breath as I watched her.
Stepping closer, pressed against her, I cupped my palm around her throat.
Her heart sped up, pulse pattering against my hand.
Fuck.
I shoved her back, pinning her to the wall and pressing my forehead to hers. Those sweet honey eyes stared up at me as she smiled, eager and wanting.
“Then what do you need?” The desperation in my voice caught me off guard, my words strained and tight. She’d asked for domination, but it was me who was wrapped around her little finger, ready to obey her every whim.
“You,” she said, striking a match that lit fire in my veins. “All of you.”
I laughed softly, humorlessly. My self-control was gone—now I was simply toying with her, savoring every moment of watching her squirm. “You’re not ready for that.”
“Try me. Show me why I should be afraid.”
“What are you trying to do to me?” I squeezed her throat for just a moment, enough pressure to make her smile widen and her eyes flutter. She reacted to my touch like it was made for her. “You’re a dangerous woman, Salem. You have no fucking idea...”
“I think you’re the dangerous one. You know, I.
.. I like to ride.” She reached for the top button on her shirt and popped it open, slowly baring her soft skin.
“Sometimes, I’ll find a trail that makes my stomach drop.
One that has caution signs around the entrance, and people look a little nervous when you ask about it.
” She traced her painted nails down her chest, pushing her shirt open, revealing the perfect slope of her bare breast. “But those are the best rides. They make you feel alive.”
“So you ignore caution signs, and everyone’s warnings, and you do it anyway...”
“Yeah. I do.” I looked at her mouth, and watched her drag the corner of her lower lip between her teeth. “I do it because it feels so damn good.”
A split second of heavy silence passed between us. I took one last cautious look over my shoulder into the empty garden, ensuring no one was around to see. I was selfish. I wanted her all for myself.
“You want to feel good?” I said. “Touch yourself for me. Just like you were in the bath.”
Slowly, she slipped her hand into her pants. She shivered, and I smirked at the thought of her cold fingers igniting her nerves, her pleasure building with pain.
“You’ve certainly found a creative way to pay for your stay,” I teased, and her breath hitched. “Such a beautiful little slut for me.” I tightened my fingers, holding her throat right beneath her jaw, keeping her face tipped up to look at me.
She groaned, grinding on her hand. “Please... please, touch me, Rayne, I—”
“Did I give you permission to use my name?” A little flash of fear lit up her face like lightning. “If you want a chance to orgasm after you’ve edged on those cold fingers, you will call me Madam, understand?”
“Yes, Madam,” she said quickly.
The honorific sent tingles all over my body. She was making soft sounds, little whimpers and gasps, her lips parted in the most beautifully sensual expression of pleasure.
“Let’s see what that mouth can do,” I said, my fingers fumbling as I tugged my belt out of my jeans. Nervousness and desire made my words shake, but I hoped she didn’t notice.
There had been plenty of times I’d hooked up and never taken my clothes off at all; I’d slept with people and barely let them touch me. My body was a tool, not a temple—I was more comfortable putting it to use than caring for it.
But she sank to her knees, grasped my hip with one hand and continued pleasuring herself with the other.
Her eyes went round and wide when I tugged my jeans down to my mid-thighs, underwear going with them, and she let out a breath that made my insides churn with desire.
She let me loop the belt around her neck and pull it taut.
She nuzzled her face into the dark hair between my legs, and I braced my hand against the wall as I watched her.
“Go on,” I said. “Show me what a good girl you are.”
The anticipation felt even better than my fantasies. She lifted her gaze to me as her tongue slid between my folds, and I gasped at her touch. She moaned, mouth opening hungrily when she tasted how wet I was. She closed her eyes, her hips rocking slowly and her body moving with them.
“God, you feel perfect,” I murmured. I held the belt wrapped around my hand like a leash, but I swore the noose was around my own neck instead of hers. Her tongue lapped over me, tracing poems of ecstasy into my flesh.
I was going to break. My vision tunneled until only she remained, the light on the other side of my little death. Her eyelashes brushed her reddened cheeks, her soft lips and curling tongue making my legs shake. I grasped the back of her head, grinding against her mouth.
My knees almost buckled. Everything went still, the world coming to a halt as my brain shuddered and my core tightened almost unbearably. She was watching my face, moaning against me, tongue drawing out every last second of ecstasy as I came.
Finally able to breathe again, the belt dropped from my hand and I leaned weakly against the wall. She drew back, lips and chin shining with my arousal, a sloppy smile on her face.
She lowered herself further, until she was straddling my boot. She rocked slowly on the well-worn leather, clinging to my thigh.
“Madam, may I come?” Her voice was so sweet, pleading and soft.
“God, yes.” I stroked my fingers through her hair, palming the crown of her head. “Shine that boot for me. Fuck, that’s it, just like that. How does that feel, pretty girl?”
She moved from slick leather to rough laces, grinding faster, harder.
“S-so good... you feel... so... good...” Her words became whimpers and moans, her movements clumsy. Her nails dug into my bare thigh, leaving crescent-moon marks in my skin.
She leaned into me, panting, and I stroked the back of her head, tracing my fingers along her nape.
“Breathe deep and slow for me,” I said. “I want you to feel every second of this orgasm. Keep grinding, don’t you dare stop. Press your clit up against the laces—make it hurt, I know you want a little pain, don’t you?”
She nodded mindlessly, staring up at me as if she was bound to my every word. She shuddered, holding tight to me as she came. I could feel the orgasm wash over her in waves of shaking, her hips bucking against me until she slumped and went still, breathing hard.
“That’s it, that’s a good girl,” I said. I traced my fingers through her hair, slow and steady, the motion soothing me. I loosened the belt from around her neck, tugged up my jeans, and threaded the belt through the loops, my hands trembling.
Now was usually the time for me to run off, to disappear. But I didn’t move; I didn’t pull her up or tell her to go. Instead I just kept staring down at her, half in wonder, half in fear.
I wanted to pick her up, hold her close. I wanted to take her into my room, into my bed. I suddenly wanted to do all the soft, silly, useless things reserved for those with far simpler lives than mine.
Salem lifted her head and smiled, and my stomach fluttered.
“I like that title,” she said softly. “Madam... it’s nice.”
Usually, outside the desperate heat of sex, the name almost repulsed me—it made me feel ashamed, reminded me of the desires I worked so hard to ignore. But not when she said it.
“It’s been a while since I’ve let anyone call me that,” I said. I offered her my hand and helped her up. She stumbled slightly and I steadied her, one hand grasping her arm and the other wrapping around her waist.
I wanted to hear her say that title again. Perhaps whisper it in my ear, speak it softly with gentle kisses against my neck. I wanted her warm hands in mine. I wanted—
Too much. Far, far too much.
I thought of the ring missing from her finger, and raging jealousy filled me. Envy, that someone else had been granted her love and loyalty, then had the gall to lose it.
She didn’t need empty promises, and I wouldn’t give her any.
I raised my walls. Slammed my doors, locked them, and swallowed the key. I helped her pull on her sweater, but I was distracted by the faint red marks my belt had left on her beautiful throat.
“I hope it was a good ride,” I said, and winked before I turned and strode away. I wanted her to call me back, call me an asshole. I wanted her to fight my carelessness.
But she didn’t.