Muse

Chapter 15 #2

With Gavin standing behind me, so I couldn’t see his face, it was almost conceivable. That I could tell him. But my throat closed up just like it had with Corey. Almost as if Corey himself was in front of me, silencing me.

“I can’t tell you,” I muttered.

“You can’t?” Gavin’s fingers tangled in my hair, twisting tighter. “Or you don’t want to?”

“I can’t. The words won’t come.”

“Okay, sweetheart. If you can’t tell me, then you’re going to show me. And then I’m going to show you what happens to such a naughty little kitten.”

“What do you mean?” My voice was thin, breathy.

He propelled me by the small of my back to the enormous bed. “You’ll see. Take your clothes off.”

Fumbling with excitement, I unbuttoned my oversized white shirt. The camera was in his hands, clicking and flashing, catching my nervous face. My collarbone. The curve of my breast, peeking out from my pink lace bra.

Deliberately, he pushed the crisp white cotton off my shoulders. “Whose shirt is this, Jordana?”

“Mine,” I said, startled.

“It looks like a man’s shirt.” His voice was understanding, yet it made me prickle with nerves.

“I-I got it at a thrift store. It probably is a man’s shirt.”

“And you’re wearing it here? Coming to me in the clothes of other men?” He kissed me, murmuring into my mouth. “Do you really think that’s allowed?” Possessive hands cupped my breasts. “The only men’s clothes that will touch your body are mine. Understand?”

“Yes,” I breathed.

“Get those baggy jeans off. Now.” He nipped the shell of my ear. “You can’t hide yourself from me. And, sweetheart? Get that pretty underwear off too.”

Oh God, the contrast between his affection and his words was making me insanely wet. I’d never experienced anything like this. Never been touched so lovingly. Never had anyone else care if I slept around or not.

My hands shook as I undressed. The camera hovered, capturing everything. As soon as my panties dropped to the floor, firm hands pushed me onto my back, holding me down by my shoulders.

“Now, baby,” Gavin said tenderly. “Show me where he touched you.”

I was naked. Exposed. My heart pounded as I ran my fingertips lightly over my breasts, making my nipples pucker.

“That’s right, gorgeous. Touch those beautiful tits. Squeeze them like he did.”

I tightened my grip on my breasts until the flesh spilled over my grasp. Gavin made an approving noise as he snapped pictures.

How could he want this? How could it be so arousing? Corey himself did nothing for me now, but this make-believe scenario alchemized the pain until I was moaning.

“Look at you,” Gavin rasped. “You’re enjoying this. Show me the other places he touched you.”

“Here,” I breathed, running my fingers over my mound.

“Nowhere else?” he asked, as if he were making casual conversation about the weather.

“No. Why would he?”

“Because your exquisite body deserves to be touched everywhere.” He took a picture as I squeezed my thighs together. “Go on, really show me.”

I blushed hard, spreading my legs to show Gavin my swollen pinkness. For his eyes only, I circled my clit.

“Sweetheart,” Gavin said reproachfully. “Did he touch you there?”

“No…”

“Then don’t touch your pretty clit.”

Squirming under his amber gaze, I slid downward over slick honey, sliding a finger inside myself.

“I’m soaked,” I breathed.

Gavin chuckled. “I see that. Close your legs. Keep moving those fingers.”

I clenched my thighs, rocking on my hand. He took pictures from above, from the side.

“Now spread yourself,” Gavin said calmly. I let my legs fall open. “Did he satisfy you, kitten?”

I stared straight into the camera’s black lens. “No.”

“Not ever?”

“Not ever.”

“Then why” — he tucked my hair tenderly behind my ear — “did you let him use you?”

I felt pinned to the bed by his gaze and the camera’s, my awareness narrowed to his hand stroking my hair.

“I didn’t think I deserved better,” I blurted. “I was addicted to being unsatisfied. It was like a drug. I thought being miserable and…obsessed would help my art.”

“Is that all?” Wrapping my hair around his hand, he pulled. Stars burst along my scalp, tingling and bright.

What was he looking for? What did he expect me to say?

“And because I’m a slut,” I tossed out.

“A slut?” Gavin considered this. “No, I don’t think that’s why.”

“No?”

“In here, you are. You’re my little slut.

” His thumb traced the nape of my neck. “But with him? No, baby. He never got that part of you, did he? The Jordana who writhes and moans in pleasure. Who comes harder than she thinks is possible. Who begs and pleads for more. Did he ever see what a slut you can be?”

“Never,” I breathed.

He tipped up my chin with a finger. “On your hands and knees.”

My cheeks were hot as I obeyed. The camera’s flash popped around me, the only sound in the charged air. I curled my fingers into the satin comforter, waiting.

Footsteps creaked on the wooden floor. Gavin held a length of soft black rope in front of my face.

“This is what happens to stray kittens who go hunting in all the wrong places,” he rumbled. “Stay on your knees. Grab the rings in the center of the headboard with your hands facing each other.”

My breath quickened as I took hold of the rings. Gavin bound my wrists with the black rope, twisting and knotting it up to my elbows in an elaborate web.

This position demanded a lot of lower body strength. I flexed my core, my thighs shaking slightly, trying to keep my knees firm on the mattress.

Gavin stroked my hair off my face, arranging the curls as if I were a doll. A live, straining, aroused doll.

“Perfect,” he muttered, snapping more pictures.

Retrieving a second piece of rope from the closet, he wrapped it around my ankles, tying them firmly together.

Suspended between the headboard and the mattress, I held still for his gaze. He moved behind me, a silent shadow. The camera clicked once, twice.

A big hand palmed my ass, rubbing it soothingly.

“Look at you, Jordana. Right where you should be. You can’t run off now.” A kiss burned my ass cheek, making me ache. “Show the camera what a slut you can be.”

My body seized up as the shutter clicked again. “You keep calling me that!”

“Because that’s what you are. Willing. Hungry.”

When his hand slid between my wedged thighs, I groaned. Loudly.

“Has anyone besides me ever seen what a wanton slut you are? Tell the truth, sweetheart.”

I hung my head. “No.”

“No? But how many have been here?” His fingers slipped into my slit, soaked and treacherously eager.

My hands tightened on the metal rings. Why was he pushing me like this? Did he really want to hear?

“I don’t know!” My face burned. “I don’t know how many. I haven’t kept track. I don’t…remember everyone.”

He tugged my curls until I moaned. The camera’s flash filled my vision as I looked at him.

“Ohhh, kitten. You naughty. Little. Thing. But you’ll remember me, won’t you.”

What did he mean? That this affair was only for the shoot? That it would end when the week was up?

“Yes,” I whispered. “I’ll remember you.”

Firm fingers massaged my clit from behind. More fingers sank inside my slickness, huge from this angle.

“Greedy little temptress.” His voice roughened. “Toying with me from the minute we met. Daring to go to another man when you should have come to me. You’re learning your proper place. On your knees, in my bed, all tied up while I touch you however I want…”

I was coming before he finished talking. My pussy clenched. I bucked into his hand.

As my climax subsided, I expected him to let go and take more pictures, but he kept rubbing my clit. I trembled, suspended on my knees for his eyes and camera.

“Please, it’s so sensitive,” I whimpered.

“Sshhhh,” he soothed. “I’m going to keep touching you, baby, so you can learn how to behave for me.” A finger, wet with my juices, stroked the cleft of my ass. “And how many have been here?”

An unexpected surge of pleasure made me tense up, then relax.

“No one.”

Lightly, he circled my tight back hole, chuckling when I thrust into his hand.

“Really? A pretty little kitten like you? You mean to tell me you’ve never taken anyone here?”

The tip of his finger probed my ass. I let out a low snarl and closed up around him.

“I swear it’s true! It’s been too tight for anyone to get inside. Please, you have to believe me.”

“Okay, baby. I believe you. I’m proud of you for letting me in.”

“Gavin, oh God…”

My ass finally opened, allowing him deeper into the narrow channel. He was stroking me in such a private place. I couldn’t believe how good he felt, intense and charged.

“Look at you, taking so much pleasure.” He kissed my lower back, his finger moving in my ass, another circling my clit. “Aren’t you a perfect slut. My slut, you understand? No one else’s.”

He had to be pretending, to be acting. For the scene.

But still, I repeated, “No one else’s.”

“Tell the truth, kitten. Who owns your pretty holes?”

My brain scrambled to keep up. “You!” I burst out. “You do.”

He pumped faster, making me moan.

My eyes stung, watering, because I felt so needy and grateful and fucking hot. I wanted to be owned by this man I barely knew but strangely trusted, and what did that even mean? Should I want this?

His sharp pine scent, his husky voice, his beautiful fingers possessing my pussy and ass, my arms bound together…it was all too perfect to be true.

“Gavin, it’s so much, I’m afraid to come again…”

“You’ve been fucked so many times, sweetheart.” His voice was patient, condescending. “All I’m doing is giving you the pleasure you should have had. You say you can’t count all the others? By the time this week is up, you won’t be able to count how many times I’ve made you come.”

I moaned as I climaxed, my ass squeezing his finger. It was overwhelming, the pleasure so intense I thought I’d fall apart.

Finally, he released me.

“Stay where you are,” he ordered, as if I could go anywhere. “I’m going to wash my hands so I can pick up my camera.”

I ached on my knees, my wrists bound and my hands clutching the rings, gazing over my shoulder into his golden-brown eyes.

He leaned over, kissing my forehead. “You’re doing great, Jordana. I’m proud of you. Are you all right?”

Taking a deep breath, I nodded.

He dropped another kiss on my lips and disappeared. In seconds, he was back, smelling of soap, circling me with the camera, until the flashes made a bonfire of my fears and insecurities.

His bed was an altar, and the sacrifice wasn’t my body, or even my soul, but everything that got in the way. The tightness in my throat, the anxiety that stifled my voice, the sadness that sent me careening around looking for absolution.

His camera incinerated all that trash, burning it to ashes and lighting me up until I felt clean and bright.

When he finally undid the bindings on my wrists and ankles, rolling me onto my back, I was spent. Loose. A puddle of jelly.

“Good girl,” he crooned, rubbing my belly. “Good, good girl. You did so well tonight.”

I swept my palms down his chest, grazing the thick bulge in his jeans, and he muttered a curse.

“If you want me to remember you,” I rasped, “if I’m really — yours, then show me.”

Gavin braced himself on his arms, his tattoos rippling over his taut muscles. He’d taken his camera off, set it on the side table.

“Beg,” he husked. “Beg for what you need, little stray kitten.”

“Please, Gavin. Fuck me.”

He held still, his molten eyes searing me.

Pushing back from the bed, he stripped off his black T-shirt and shed his black jeans, revealing his lean, carved body. He sheathed his cock with a condom and settled over me, his skin hot on mine, until he was lying on top of me.

It hit me that most of the sex I’d had was from behind. Looking into Gavin’s open eyes, for the second night in a row, was almost unbearably intimate.

When he kissed me, the simple touch of his lips stole my breath and replaced it with pure want.

His tousled hair was soft as I threaded my fingers through it. One hand cupped the back of my neck, the other traveling down my body to pet my core.

Then palms pushed my thighs apart. Firm hands gripped my ass. His thick cock sank inside me with one long stroke.

“Don’t relax on me, little one,” he growled. “I’m not done with you yet.”

An electric spark leapt between us as I lifted my hips to meet him.

But Corey’s words echoed in my mind: We’re not done, Jorie. You and me, we won’t ever be done.

I tried to turn my gaze away, but Gavin gripped my cheeks.

“What is it?”

My throat felt tight with the burden of what I wasn’t saying.

“It’s okay.” His voice softened. “It’s okay, Jordana. You can say anything you need to say here.”

A tear oozed from my eye.

“It’s okay,” Gavin repeated, keeping still inside me. Holding me close. He didn’t brush the tear away, didn’t try to clean me up, and I felt a surge of gratitude.

“When I told him we’re done, he said that we’re not. But we are. I promise we are.”

A low growl left Gavin. His eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Fuck yes, you are. He won’t ever touch you again. You’ve strayed far and wide, kitten, but you’re coming home on my cock.”

Home. That word was everything I wanted.

I hugged him tight, digging my fingers into his shoulders, his back, every plane of his carved body that was so hot and alive as I buried my face in his neck.

He fucked me savagely, until pleasure and pain blurred together.

His cock felt like iron, but my pussy welcomed him, clinging to every thrust.

“Gavin, oh God!”

“You’re mine. Mine. Mine.”

“Yours, only yours,” I whimpered, and I didn’t know if it was make-believe or real. In reality, I’d known Gavin for all of three days, and this was crazy. But if it was make-believe, I had no desire for the scene to end.

His tongue plunged into my mouth. He was close; I could feel it. But there was tension in his arms, his ragged breaths. He was holding back.

“Take me.” My legs clasped his waist. I bit the hot column of his neck. “Take all of me.”

He lunged deep, leaving me breathless, driving the air from me until my whole body felt like one exposed nerve. A roar left his throat, and he shuddered. His cock twitched, gushing inside me.

Spent, we lay together.

“Gavin?”

“I’m here.” His lashes brushed my cheek, his honey-colored eyes smoky and soft.

I buried my face in his chest. The thud of his heartbeat slowed against my skin. The lights he’d set up for the session were dazzling, but his room was a cocoon. The two of us in his bed were warm and quiet and alone together. The outside world, theater, our pasts — all seemed far away.

Mine.

He’d called me his.

I was afraid he hadn’t meant it, and even more afraid that he had. Because if he did, it couldn’t last, could it?

My gaze dropped to his arm pressed against my chest, and I traced the tattoo of a hawk taking flight.