Chapter 7 #2
Was I, though? What did I really know about this man? His skill wasn’t in question; he’d proven that last time. But this wasn’t about skill. This was about seduction.
The warmth of his breath against my skin triggered another wave of goosebumps. This time, he noticed. Releasing my neck, his hands traveled lower, kneading my breasts and taunting my nipples until they were rigid peaks.
A moan escaped my lips, shattering the dark silence of the room.
My composure was at risk, but beneath the desire was something sharper, angrier.
Not at him, or even at myself for wanting, but at the world I was forced to live in.
My father’s tightly controlled world. Where I existed solely as an extension.
Here, I could fly and maybe that could be enough. Had to be.
Loki took my hand as if leading me to a dance floor, placing me centered under the ceiling ring. A trickle of nerves. A light dusting of sweat appeared on my skin. He lifted my arm, kissing down the length of the inside from my elbow to my wrist before clasping it.
I was surprised at the warmth and lack of heavy metal that was expected with something that looked so heavy and archaic. My eyes narrowed as I examined them more closely. “How is the metal so soft and warm?”
“These are custom. Twenty-four carat gold.”
“Expensive.”
“Fit for a queen. Or in this case a goddess.” His comment wasn’t snide, but an acknowledgement of honoring the alter ego I used in this shared world.
He parted my legs and wrapped my ankles in the same soft, warm shackles. The dress had already come off and now all there was between us was a skimpy G-string with a sodden gusset.
He moved behind me, testing for any strain on my sockets, running his hands down my arms, and sides, around my hips and squeezing my ass in a tight grip. “Let’s warm you up. If you are suddenly in distress, what is your word?”
“Release.”
“Mmm, think of something that won’t make me shift my attention to those silken folds.”
“Остановка.“ I replied coolly.
“Stop it is.” His lips tugged up in a smirk.
So he knew some Russian. If that was supposed to impress me, it didn’t. For all Master Loki knew, I was just a nobody. Not an educated woman adept in nine languages with a master’s degree in art and business.
He chose a heavy flogger. The message was loud and clear; there would be no delicacy in the sensations he was about to deliver.
A shudder of excitement moved through me.
He’d proven already how subtlety could drive me to the edge of freedom, and now, the game had changed.
The look in his eyes told me tonight would be nothing like the last time which had been patience and precision.
Tonight felt deliberate in an entirely different way.
Thwack! The heavy leather falls echoed in the small room as they landed.
A pleasant warmth heated me from the outside in.
The pressure and precision of the bite of leather was as erotic as the fuzzy mitten had been during our first session together.
Any attempts at rotating my hips outward were met with resistance.
I was tightly held for that very reason, so I couldn’t chase after what I wanted but be held in the cradle of want, desire.
He moved the flogger up and down from my shoulders to my ankles. Every strike moved me closer to the cliff’s edge. A place I wanted to be so badly that keeping my moans in check was becoming deliberate instead of a natural extension of my choice.
When he stopped, the sudden stillness was arresting. The gentle pulse from the back of my body was the only distraction from the silence. Loki moved to stand in front of me, examining my face for signs of what? My limits, my desire? He dangled a pair of clamps in front of me.
“Gold to match your cuffs, Hecate.”
He held my gaze as he worked one of my nipples between his fingers. It wasn’t particularly harsh but his approach was different, almost clinical in the way he worked it to a hardened point. I watched, fascinated by the tender pink flesh being squeezed between the heavy gold jaws.
He slapped the side of my breast, setting the clamp dangling. I dropped my head, releasing a low moan. Loki took the other and repeated the torture of the tip before encasing the pointed peak between the tight jaws of gold. This time I knew what to expect and held back the moan wanting to escape.
A frisson of heat moved through me. My skin was slick with it, my thighs coated in it and my brain malfunctioned.
Loki tugged and swung the clamps, eliciting primal sounds from my core.
His eyes held a knowing look. He was so damn sexy and he knew it.
Had me figured out and was playing me like an instrument he’d mastered long ago.
No amount of restraint could hold back my reaction when he picked up another flogger and flicked the clamp and my nipple. I gasped and felt my eyes fly wide. His expression barely changed, but there was a knowing in his gaze that made me feel dangerously transparent.
He was not easy to fool, and even had I managed to pull off attitude, the fresh trickle of excitement coating my inner thighs would have given me away.
He struck the other breast with a little more force and my head which had dropped back snapped up.
Again he struck, one breast and then the other before flicking the dangling clamp with the tip of the flogger.
I screamed, and then moaned low in my throat, a deep needy sound.
I felt myself losing the battle for self-control.
He dipped his hand between my thighs and circled the hardened nub.
Sweet heavenly… it felt so damn good. I was brought to the brink, one foot off the cliff ready to dive deep into an orgasm.
Loki pulled back and flicked the tip of my other nipple.
A shriek spilled from my lips as I chased an orgasm.
A part of my brain recognized that I’d been unable to hold back.
It had already been discussed that coming was an exception, not the rule.
I was sure he’d done it on purpose. Pushing me, causing me to fail so he’d have an excuse to punish me and why did that excite me so much?
My release bathed the floor between my legs. My body was limp. Not an ounce of strength to keep me standing. Loki had barely broken a sweat while I was obliterated. He was a man, a Dom, who could wreck me. Never had a scene been as intense as what I’d experienced with him.
Something about this felt different, and that realization was inconvenient enough that I immediately tried not to examine the evidence.
It wouldn’t get me anywhere, and probably get him killed.
This thing between us was dangerous and not just for the obvious reasons.
We were two different people from two different continents but more than that, two different worlds.
My father would crush him if he knew, and despite this being only a scene, I was a damn liar if I thought he hadn’t impacted me.
The proof was impossible to ignore. My body sagged against the restraints, every muscle suddenly unwilling to cooperate.
“I’m going to remove the nipple clamp, it will be intense.”
Loosening the clamp, he quickly removed it and sucked my tortured nipple into his mouth. Even with the lovely distraction, the intensity of the sensation flowing back tossed me off the edge again. Tears threatened to leak but not from pain, from extreme pleasure.
He reached up, releasing one wrist and then the other. I leaned into him, allowing myself a moment of vulnerability.
He rubbed my arms, and then released the second clamp, sucking my plump nipple into his mouth. Another gasp with the intensity, but like the first time when they were attached, I knew what was coming and was able to level enough control to not orgasm again.
My arms wrapped around his head anchored me to the ground and I didn’t want to let go. The thought terrified me.
“Stand.”
My body did what my mind could not, obeyed. I held my position while Loki unclasped me from the floor shackles and scooped me up into his arms. He held me tight as he sat on the edge of the bed.
“This is beginning to interfere with my plans to remain sensible.”
My head was tucked under his chin and I felt it when he smiled.
“You were never going to be sensible. Not with me, Hecate.”
The words should have irritated me.
Instead, something in my chest tightened.
Not because of the confidence in them.
Because I believed him.
That was the truly alarming part.
I closed my eyes and told myself, for perhaps the hundredth time that evening, that this was temporary.
One more scene.
One more night.
One more mistake.
The lie was beginning to lose its shape.