Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ariana
The moment Henry lowered the headphones over my ears, the world went silent.
No breath.
No footsteps.
No whispered words of praise.
Just the darkness behind the blindfold and the stillness pressing around me, leaving me with nothing but my racing heart and the anticipation coiling through my body like a live wire.
Every nerve was awake, every inch of skin too aware of the absence of his touch.
I’d asked for this. I needed this. The quiet. The surrender. The trust.
But the longer I remained bound and waiting, the more my mind buzzed with a mixture of nerves and thrill.
And beneath it all was the bone-deep certainty I was safe with him.
Seconds stretched into what seemed like an eternity. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until something feather-light brushed along my ribcage.
I jolted.
Not in fear. In relief.
His touch.
Finally.
But it left too soon, disappearing before I could chase it. Another ghost of contact whispered over my hip. Another down my arm. Never enough. Always gone before I could lean into it.
He was teasing me.
Drawing out every ounce of tension building low in my stomach.
Letting anticipation become its own kind of delicious torture.
Then a sharp scent cut through.
Like a match being struck, with something rich layered beneath it.
Warm. Sweet. Spicy.
Almost like cinnamon.
Did he just light a candle?
My breath hitched, my mind spinning with what he was doing. He didn’t give me long to consider before warmth touched my skin.
His mouth.
It closed around my nipple, drawing me into a pleasure so sharp I arched instinctively against the restraints.
But just as quickly, he stopped, leaving me aching.
Then heat wrapped around my nipple again.
This time, it was different.
Not soft.
Not gentle.
Hot.
Wax.
I gasped, the sound trapped inside the silence of the headphones, my back straining off the mattress. The heat dissolved into a tingling coolness, rippling outward in waves that made me shiver. Pain mixed with pleasure. Torment mixed with release.
Henry repeated the pattern on my other nipple, worshipping me first with his mouth, followed by the slow drip of wax, each drop stealing my breath and feeding the fire building inside me.
He continued down my frame, each lick of his tongue and drop of wax pulling me between two opposite sensations. But both catapulted my body higher and higher.
When he reached my stomach, I felt him pause before warm lips pressed reverently against the place I avoided looking. The scars Victor carved into me. The word that used to define me, whether I wanted it to or not.
He kissed it again.
And again.
My eyes stung, a myriad of emotions filling me as heat traced over the same place, deliberate and slow. Not random drops this time. This was purposeful. Intentional.
Like he was writing something.
I didn’t know what.
But my chest tightened with something fierce, something that hurt and soothed all at once.
When he was done, the bed dipped. I couldn’t see him, but I could almost feel his gaze traveling along every inch of me, admiring his work.
Then the sweet scent of cinnamon came close again. A drop by my hip. Another a little lower. My body tensed, anticipation knotting so tightly I could barely breathe, especially as he neared my clit.
Was he going to drip wax on me there? How would that feel? Would it be too much?
I braced myself for the pain, knowing Henry would never do anything to hurt me.
But instead of the burning sting of wax, a sudden vibration pulsed against my clit.
I cried out, the sensation almost more painful than the wax. Because it felt so damn good. I surrendered to it, each vibration propelling my body higher until I was on the verge of shattering into a thousand tiny pieces.
Which was the precise moment Henry pulled the vibrator away, leaving me a quivering, panting mess.
Then heat consumed me, a sharp drop of wax landing exactly where the vibration had been.
My scream felt silent in the enclosed world of darkness as I fought against my restraints.
But I still didn’t give him my safe word. I needed this. Needed the pain.
Because I knew it would be followed by a pleasure unlike anything I’d ever experienced.
And that was precisely what happened. A wet cloth wiped away the wax before Henry pressed the toy back against me, sending shockwaves through me so intense I couldn’t tell where pain ended and need began.
The pattern kept repeating.
Vibration. Heat. Pleasure.
Wax. Pain. Bliss.
His hands steadied me. His breath ghosted over the skin he’d set on fire.
Just when I thought I might break, he brought the toy back up to me. But instead of pressing it against my clit, he slid it inside me, the deep pulse stealing my last coherent thought, especially when he closed his mouth over my clit, consuming and devouring me.
Every sensation collided. The lingering burn. The cool air. The vibration inside me. Henry’s mouth pulling pleasure from me in deliberate, torturous strokes.
I spiraled fast. Too fast.
But right before I hit that peak I was desperately chasing, he stopped.
A whimper tore out of me. Or maybe it was a scream. I couldn’t be sure. All I knew was his absence was the cruelest form of torture, the pain of being deprived of my release worse than any burning wax.
My breath echoed in my ears, my heart feeling like it was about to burst out of my ribcage as I waited for what was to come.
And then I felt it again.
The wax on my clit. I arched off the bed, panting, moaning, walking the perilous tightrope between pleasure and pain once more.
He pressed his hand to my stomach, gluing me to the mattress, and repeated the same process.
His mouth.
The vibrator.
The climb.
The sudden withdrawal.
I begged without words.
But he still didn’t give me what I needed.
Or maybe he did.
He pushed me to the edge, then pulled me back.
Again.
And again.
And again.
When he’d deprived me of an orgasm for probably the fifth or sixth time, I was practically sobbing. Still, I wanted more. Needed more.
The bed dipped, and I held my breath, bracing for another round of exquisite torture.
Instead of wax dripping on my clit, I felt something else rub against me. Something warm.
Then he slammed into me, and the world detonated around me.
Every thrust was amplified.
Every slap of skin on skin.
Every pulse.
Every breath he ripped from me with the force of his body claiming mine.
I couldn’t see him.
Couldn’t hear him.
Couldn’t touch him.
But I felt him everywhere.
Pleasure tore through me in a violent wave I couldn’t stop, couldn’t soften, couldn’t hide. My body arched so sharply the restraints pulled tight, my cry echoing in my ears as an orgasm spiraled through me, relief mixing with need.
But Henry didn’t slow down. Didn’t drag out my pleasure.
He drove into me again. And again. And again. Pushing me past the edge, past reason, past everything I thought I understood about my own limits.
I climbed again.
Faster.
Higher.
Right as I reached the breaking point, he ripped the headphones and blindfold off me.
It took me a second to adjust to the light. When I did, Henry was there.
Fire-bright eyes.
Jaw clenched.
Chest heaving.
Peering at me like I was his salvation and damnation all in one.
Just like he was mine.
I didn’t look away.
I couldn’t.
He was my anchor. My center. My true north.
Our bodies moved together like two puzzle pieces snapping into place. His groan mixed with my cry, my vision blurring as a climax tore through me a second time. Harder. Brighter. Leaving me shaking uncontrollably. He let go at the same time, his body jerking and trembling through his own release.
When he had nothing left, he crushed his lips to mine, breathing into me. And I greedily accepted every last exhale.
After he finally got his breathing under control, he quickly undid my restraints one by one, leaving a tender kiss on each place he’d tied me.
The moment I was free, he gathered me into his arms and held me against his chest. His lips found my forehead, my cheek, my hair. Every kiss was soft, every touch gentle.
It broke me.
Tears spilled hot and sudden down my face, so many emotions overwhelming me at once.
“I’m sorry,” I choked out. “I don’t… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Hey.” His voice was low, steady, grounding. He touched my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. Not letting me hide from him.
“It’s okay. You’ve had to bury your feelings for too damn long. Let them out. If you need to cry, cry. If you need to scream, scream. You’re safe with me.”
I closed my eyes, drawing in a steadying breath. When I returned my gaze to him, I pushed back his tendril of hair that always seemed to spring loose.
“I know I am.”
He kissed me soft and slow, proving he meant every word he said. Then he released me and stood. “Be right back.”
With one last kiss on my temple, he padded into the bathroom, returning a few seconds later to scoop me into his arms and carry me with him. Steam curled from the oversized bathtub as water poured from the spout.
He set me gently on my feet, extending his hand to help me into the tub, but I shook my head.
“I want to see first.”
He scrunched his brows in confusion as I turned toward the full-length mirror.
Mirrors used to be my enemy.
I’d avoided them for years, only studying my reflection when necessary, hating how trapped I was in my own skin.
My body had always felt like a cage.
Now when I looked at myself, I no longer felt trapped.
Where Victor’s mark once stood out stark and cruel, Henry had written something new in bright red wax.
Something beautiful.
“Warrior,” I whispered, tracing the cooling letters.
Henry stepped behind me and wrapped an arm around my waist, brushing his lips against the curve of my neck.
“It’s what you are,” he murmured. “The wax will wash away. But it doesn’t change who you are. Or how I see you.”
Emotion squeezed my chest, and I spun in his arms, grabbing his face and kissing him.
Fierce.
Grateful.
Alive.