Chapter 11 Tremors #2
A tingling sensation rushed up my spine, and I shivered, the feeling foreign and familiar at the same time.
I hadn’t felt anything like it in eight years.
I had once believed it was only youthful inexperience that used to make me react so strongly to such a chaste, insignificant contact.
I had never felt that way with Petr, had never expected to feel that way again.
Einar’s kiss wasn’t just a kiss. It was a reawakening.
“I realise I didn’t give you much of a choice in all this,” he rasped, “but I’m glad you agreed. I know it can’t have been easy.”
I felt the corner of my mouth tug itself upward into a lop-sided smirk. I exhaled a steadying breath while trying to think of a reply.
“To win a shelter for five people that I talked into coming here in the first place? It was the easiest choice of my life.”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“Do you not resent me for it?”
“No. Don’t flatter yourself into thinking you’ve hurt my pride.” I rolled my eyes.
You can’t hurt something that doesn’t exist anymore.
“This has been fun so far,” I said softly, seeing the wary lines on his forehead.
His face sagged slightly as something close to relief flooded his features, a stark contrast to his general aura of harshness.
Not only were my instincts telling me that I didn’t need to be afraid of him, despite appearances perhaps, but my long-unfulfilled libido was urging me to put them to a test without further delay.
“You’ve given me a nice evening,” I said breathlessly, having just arrived at a very reckless decision. “But now I would like to find out if you can give me a night just as ... satisfying.”
Despite their natural brilliance, Einar’s eyes flashed dark with comprehension, and a suggestive smile spread on his clean-cut face.
“Your wish is my command.” He gave me a small, solemn nod, eyes sparkling not only with amusement, but with something very close to admiration, which I wasn’t quite sure my words warranted.
He then directed me smoothly to the bathroom, which I found full of luxuries I had not had much occasion for in the preceding weeks: fresh towels, soaps, shampoos, razors, and facial creams. I gasped, too stunned to even thank him for the thoughtfulness before he shut the bathroom door behind himself as he left me to indulge in whatever self-grooming I fancied.
The water was teeth-chatteringly cold, but when I was done, I felt cleaner than I ever had in my whole life.
To my immense relief, Einar went to wash straight after, and for the next ten minutes, only the drumming of water against the shower enclosure kept me company. I used this respite to gulp down more wine to restore my drunken haze.
I lay down on the bed, wrapped in an oversized burgundy bathrobe, waiting for him.
A soft tremor ran through me in waves, even though it wasn’t cold in the room.
Left alone with only my own thoughts for company, I discovered that these were no longer gripped by fear.
Instead, they bloomed with anticipation, my skin tingling with it.
Looking back on the evening, I was able to discern how craftily Einar had managed to put me at ease with just the right amount of attention to detail, all without appearing obsequious or manipulative.
What trepidation I continued to feel wasn’t fright, but rather a wish for him not to frustrate my rapidly mounting expectations of him.
When Einar finally re-entered the room, I tried to sit up, but he motioned for me not to. I stayed on my back and soon he was standing at the foot of the bed, looking down at me with a soft smile.
He was a beautiful man. His wide frame was made of bones that were both long and large, making his body seem solid and unbreakable.
His muscles were smooth and firm, the bulk of him inviting to the touch like polished stone.
There was a towel wrapped around his hips, but when he had turned around to shut the bathroom door, I got a glimpse of the broad planes of his back and the firm roundness of his behind.
With compact movements, he untied my bathrobe and freed my arms from it, uncovering me.
Hastily, I shifted the palm of my hand to conceal the horizontal scar on my lower abdomen.
It was but a narrow, faded line by that point, well-healed and inconspicuous.
Yet it was the only part of my visage that made me feel truly self-conscious because of what it represented.
Einar’s sharp intake of breath told me that if he had noticed my manoeuvre at all, he paid no attention to it. Lust carved rugged lines in his face, and his eyes shone darkly with desire.
“You’re exquisite, Ren,” he purred, as if in a trance.
He traced his fingers down my chest, between my breasts, and all the way to my navel.
He got on the bed, leaning over me. Propped on his left elbow, he cupped my face with his hand and kissed me on the lips, his breath tasting faintly of wine and toothpaste.
I kissed him back, running my hand down his back, relishing the firmness of his flesh.
Encouraged by this, he savoured me more forcefully, parting my lips.
His mouth felt hard on mine, decisive, purposeful.
Soon, he moved down to my breasts, pulling at my nipples with careful, calculated motions, gently biting into them.
I whimpered softly, and he smiled up at me, the candlelight twinkling in his eyes.
Then his shoulders were between my parted legs, and he was planting more kisses on my stomach and then the insides of my thighs. I buried my fingers in his rich hair, tugging on it as my breath shortened. A sort of moaning giggle escaped me as his breath tickled me.
“Make that sound for me again,” he commanded softly, looking up at me.
“I can’t do it on demand. You have to earn it.”
“Oh, I intend to ...” he drawled and put his mouth deep between my legs, startling me with his tongue, soft and almost cool against the burning centre of me.
The bathrobe was still trapped underneath me.
I yelped and grabbed onto its belt, my knuckles turning white as suddenly he bared his teeth, their edges hard and threatening, and he sucked on my clit, adding a tantalising force to the otherwise gentle friction of tracing it with his tongue.
Barely aware of doing so, I coiled the cotton rope around each of my wrists, and I held to its ends.
I desperately wanted to tell him to stop but found myself incapable of coherent speech.
Pressure began building in earnest at the base of my spine, but I throbbed with an impatient desire to be filled and taken more than with a necessity to come yet.
“I want you inside,” I mewled. “I need you, now. Please.”
Einar’s lips closed tighter around my clit as if in a kiss, and he gave it a final, sharper pull.
“God, you taste delicious,” he said, straightening up. “Addictive. I could spend the rest of the night with my face buried half inside you if I didn’t want so damn much to give you exactly what you need when you ask like that.”
His eyes fell instantly to my hands in their makeshift shackles.
Self-conscious at first, I let go of the burgundy belt and wrenched my arms free of it.
With a sinful smirk, Einar glanced from my face to the rope and back again in contemplation.
With an equally feral grin tugging at the corners of my own mouth, I hoisted my hips up slightly to allow him to pull the belt free from the bathrobe underneath me.
Throwing caution to the wind, I raised my hands up as if in a prayer, offering them up for him.
The lustful lines in his visage deepened.
He wrapped the blood-coloured cord around my wrists firmly and then, raising my hands up above my head by pulling at the rope, he tied them to the wooden headboard.
His deft competence, indicative of far more experience than I could claim, made me very conscious of my loud, shallow breathing.
I positively hummed and throbbed with tension, but I was relieved of my embarrassment by Einar’s own visceral arousal etched in his face.
“Not too tight?” Einar asked, testing the product of his efforts with a sharp jerk.
“No.”
“No, what?”
The dormant kindness in his eyes was the only assurance I had left of being allowed to refuse participation in the dark game I had myself proposed.
His features hardened. His voice had changed very abruptly and was suddenly ice-cold with warning and flatter than his usual cadence. Strict. Commanding. Merciless.
I nearly squealed with delight.
“No, Sir,” I corrected with a squeak, barely suppressing an unhinged giggle that bubbled in my chest.
“Good girl.”
Before I could regain some basic semblance of composure, the imposing bulk of him leaned over me, and he entered me in a swift, practised motion. Carefully, but without any hesitation. My whole body tensed instantly in response as I clenched around him inside, and I wrapped my legs around him.
“Does that feel alright, babydoll?” he asked a little breathlessly.
Out of all the words I had heard him say so far, he pronounced his bedroom pet name for me with by far the most practised, pristine British accent, and hearing it leave his lips set a potent shot of euphoria down my already pleasure-saturated bloodstream.
“Uhm-hm,” was about all I managed in response, adjusting myself both to the crushing weight of his hips and to the way he filled me inside.
“Do I have to ask again?”
“No, Sir. It feels amazing. I want to worship every inch of your massive cock for stretching my cunt the way it does.”
The hard line of his mouth slackened, his lips parting in something close to an astonished smile.
“And here I was thinking a girl like you probably doesn’t even know words like that.”