Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty Six
Elena
We begin.
He leads me back into the bedroom, and I wonder if he's going to fuck me, or tie me up, or put his hands on my throat and drive his cock deep into me.
I want all of those things, but more than anything, I want to trust him.
The realization stops me short.
I want to trust him.
I've never wanted that before. I've never felt that with anyone else.
Maybe because I've never been in a position where someone's given me a reason to.
But with Luca, there's a chance.
"Lie down," he says, his voice calm, controlled.
I climb onto the bed and lie back against the pillows.
He walks to the drawer and takes out a long coil of silky rope.
"I'm going to tie your wrists and ankles to the bed, Bella," he explains. "So you can't move."
My heart races.
"Do you consent?"
I lick my lips and nod.
"Tell me, Elena."
"Yes," I say. "I consent."
He smiles at me, a smile of approval. "Brava, ragazza."
My chest fills with warmth, and I realize how badly I want him to like me. To approve of me.
To care about me.
I watch him as he unwinds the rope, his movements precise. He loops it around my ankle and then ties it to the bedpost.
"Too tight?"
"No."
"Good."
He does the same to the other, and then moves to the bed, and does the same to my wrists, mindful of the clicker still wrapped around one of them.
I tug experimentally, but I'm held fast.
"Test the rope. Does it hurt?"
"No."
"Good. You will use the clicker when you want me to stop," he says.
"No safe word?" I ask, then flush at his lifted brow.
So, maybe I've done a little research over the past few weeks.
Sue me.
"You can say no, or stop, or red. Those are all good, and I will always listen. But the clicker is a bit more reliable. You can use it even when you find you've lost your speech," he explains calmly.
I nod.
He stands and walks to the closet, and returns holding a black box.
"What's in there?"
"You'll find out," he says, and sets the box on the bedside table.
He takes out a blindfold.
"I'm going to put this on you now," he says, and his voice is low, husky.
"Okay."
He lifts it to my face, and the silk is cool against my skin.
I hear him shift, and then feel his warm hands on my cheeks, his lips on mine.
The kiss is deep and hot, and my body comes alive, straining against the ropes, trying to get closer to him.
But he's already moving away, his weight leaving the bed.
The mattress dips again, and then his hands are on me, and he's running them down my body, over my arms, my ribs, the undersides of my breasts.
His touch is soft, gentle, and he lingers over every part of me, stroking the backs of his fingers over the tops of my breasts, circling my belly button with his index finger, trailing his fingertips along my hipbones.
The strong afternoon sun coming through the windows makes my skin hot, and the lightest breeze makes me shiver.
I hear him shift, and then his lips brush over mine, his tongue sliding into my mouth, his fingers tracing a line from my sternum to my belly, and then lower.
It feels good, the sensation heightened by the darkness and the inability to see.
I don't know where his touch will land, and the anticipation is a low thrum through my body.
He teases me, tracing his fingertips over the sensitive skin on the inside of my thighs, then stroking over my mound.
But he doesn't touch me between my legs, and I squirm, wanting him to.
"Please," I whisper.
"Please, what, Elena?"
"Please, touch me," I beg.
"I am touching you," he says, and his teeth graze my shoulder, his mouth trailing lower.
His lips circle my nipple, his tongue teasing, and the sensation goes straight to my core.
"You're not—not where I want," I pant.
He pulls back. "Oh? Where is it you want me, Elena?"
"Between my legs," I beg.
"There?" he asks, and slides a finger through the wetness there.
"Yes, please."
"I told you, Elena," he says, "patience."
"Please, I need it," I plead.
"I'll decide what you need, panini."
His voice is a dark rumble, and I feel his body shift, and then he's kneeling between my legs, his hands sliding over my thighs, spreading them even more.
"So pretty," he says, and I can't tell if he's talking about me or my pussy.
He traces a line up the inside of one thigh, and then back down, and my muscles clench and unclench.
"I want—"
"Don't make me gag you," he says in a warning tone.
The thought sends a line of heat straight to my core, and I moan.
He pauses, and I can hear an almost amused tone when he says, "Is that something you'd like to try, Elena?"
"I don't know," I say. "Yes."
"Mmm," he hums. "Then we will. But not today."
Then his hands are gone.
I strain against the bonds, but they don't budge.
I wait, and the quiet grows, the room so silent I can hear my heartbeat.
"Luca?" I call out.
There's no response.
I wonder if he's still there.
"Luca," I repeat, and there's a thread of fear in my voice.
"I'm here, Elena," he says.
"Where did you go?"
"Nowhere, Bella," he says. "I will not leave the room. Ever. You have my word."
I relax slightly.
"Are you ready?" he asks, his voice deep.
"For what?"
"This."
And then I feel his tongue on me, and he licks me, from my entrance to the top of my slit, and I gasp, a soft cry escaping me.
His tongue circles my clit, and then he sucks, his tongue swirling, and my hips buck off the bed, the ropes digging into my wrists.
"Luca, God," I moan, and the pleasure builds, spiraling upward, my body tensing, my toes curling.
"You taste so good," he groans, and then his tongue is pressing inside me, and my hips rise, trying to get closer.
His hand strokes my inner thigh, and then he presses his thumb to my clit, his tongue driving inside me, and the sensation is so intense, and I'm right there, my back arching.
Then it stops.
His hands, his mouth.
The pressure.
It stops, and the orgasm fades away, and I'm left gasping and wanting.
"What—why did you stop?"
"Patience, Elena," he says, and I can hear the amusement in his voice.
I'm breathing hard, my chest rising and falling.
His hands run up and down my body, soothing, gentle.
He sucks my nipple into his mouth, and the feeling is intense.
I moan.
His teeth scrape against me, and then he blows on my nipple, making it pucker, and the sensation is intense.
"Fuck," I gasp, and his tongue trails over my ribs, and then he's kissing me, his tongue sliding into my mouth.
The kiss is deep, and the taste of myself on his tongue makes me whimper. His hand moves over me, down between my legs.
He runs a finger over me, and I lift my hips, wanting him inside me.
He obliges, pressing a single finger inside me.
"God," I moan.
"Is that what you want, Bellissima?"
"More," I beg, and his finger strokes, his thumb finding my clit.
The pressure builds again, and it feels like only a moment before I'm hovering at the edge.
Then his hand disappears again.
"No, no," I groan, and he presses a kiss to my forehead.
"Shhh," he soothes, and his hands run over my skin.
I'm breathing hard, and my whole body is tingling, and the need to come is overwhelming.
I feel him shift, and then the tip of his finger traces my entrance, and the sensation makes me whimper.
His finger pushes inside.
My pussy clenches around him, and I moan.
"Make me come, Luca," I plead.
"All in good time," he promises.
He withdraws his finger, but before I can whine, he replaces it with his tongue.
I gasp, and he does it again, his tongue fucking me slowly.
"Luca," I cry out, and his tongue strokes me again.
He licks and sucks, and the feeling is so intense, but I need more, I need—
And then he does it again, the pleasure building, and this time, his fingers push inside me, two of them, and his tongue circles my clit, and it's too much, the pleasure is too much.
"Please, I need—"
"I know, Bellissima," he says, his voice a dark purr.
His fingers slide deeper, and he twists his wrist, and the pressure is—
"God, Luca, fuck."
His fingers stroke, and his tongue swirls, and his free hand reaches up, pinching my nipple, and the combined sensations are too much.
My muscles tighten, and he knows. He knows I'm close to the edge. He knows how much I need it.
I writhe, the silky ropes sliding up and down my wrists, adding more to it. Trapping me in the best way.
He keeps going, his fingers sliding and thrusting, and just before I go flying over the edge, he stops.
"Fuck," I yell. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
"So impatient, Elena," he murmurs.
He shifts away from me on the bed, and I hear him rifling through the black box. Something cool touches my leg, and I jerk. A bottle?
He simply moves back over me, pressing his weight against my overly sensitive body.
His hands move over my sides, and then his mouth is on mine, kissing me deeply, and his hands are on my breasts, his thumbs flicking over my nipples.
He pinches and squeezes, and the feeling is intense.
I writhe and whimper, but his weight holds me in place.
"How much more do you want, Elena?" he whispers darkly.
"I need to come," I moan.
"You will," he reassures me. "Do you think I'll leave you like this, panini? Wanting, needing, unsatisfied? Do you think that's who I am?"
"No," I moan, and the realization hits me.
I trust him.
It's not the sex, or the restraints. It's the fact that he's not just using me for his own gratification. That he's not just taking.
It might seem like he's doing exactly that, but it's not just what he wants. It's what I want. He knows that.
He's giving me exactly what I want.
And only asking for one thing in return.
Trust.
"Luca," I say.
"What is it, Elena?"
"I trust you."
"Bene," he says, and kisses me, a deep, soul-searing kiss.
I feel his cock, thick and hard, against my leg, and I want him inside me, but then his hand is sliding between my legs, and his fingers are pushing inside, and he's working them in and out, and it feels so good, the sensations overwhelming.