Chapter 11 #2
He held her, fingers lightly stroking and watched the change come over her—the parting of her lips, the loosening of her shoulders. Already, she was melting from self-consciousness into surrender.
“This will help you focus on what you’re feeling, not who might be watching,” he said, pitching his tone low and reassuring. “No distractions. No room for anything but sensation.”
He lifted her easily, setting her astride his thighs. His lips brushed hers, a tease followed by the deliberate sweep of his tongue. When his fingers slipped under her chemise straps, her eyes flew open, and her fingers caught his wrists.
“You said you trusted me, Emily. Was that the truth?”
“Yes, always,” she replied without hesitation.
“Then, show me you do.”
Excitement and trepidation shimmered in her eyes. Trust wasn’t the issue. It was fear. Of letting someone in, of risking her heart again after everything she’d lost. He waited, giving her time to work through it in her head. After eight years, what was a few minutes more?
She eventually released him, and her hands fell to her sides.
“Now, shut your eyes.”
Her lids lowered. The lashes a silky black fan on her cheeks.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured, offering praise in the same reassuring tone. He moved her arms behind her, crossing her wrists. “Keep them there. I want full access to your beautiful body.”
He brushed her hair back and skimmed his hands over her shoulders, fingertips tracing her collarbones. Her skin was satiny smooth everywhere. When he reached the thin straps barring his view of her breasts, desire punched through him, but he forced himself to go slow—careful and controlled.
She trembled, sighing in a way that made his own pulse race. He cleared his throat and continued his lesson. “Taking away sight can heighten your other senses. Let’s test that theory.”
He leaned in, kissing her deliberately—lips nibbling, tongue foraying inside, exploring thoroughly. His voice was rough with desire when he asked, “Tell me what you sensed.”
She inhaled unevenly. “Warmth. Cool mint. The rasp of the beginnings of a beard on your jaw. Spice, outdoors, and clean—like soap.”
“You’re very perceptive. Expecting only to work, I showered but didn’t shave before I came to the club tonight.” He kissed her again—down her throat, along her jaw, to her ear—and nipped lightly. “What do you hear?”
Her head tilted slightly, as she focused. “My heartbeat,” she whispered. “It’s running away from all the kisses and touching.”
Alec smiled against her skin.
“I also hear the rush of your breath in my ear and… Disturbed.”
His head came up. Then he heard the music and understood.
“Cari picked the playlist tonight. That version of Sound of Silence is her favorite, along with a lot of alternative rock and metal.”
“I like it too,” Emily said, lips dewy from his kisses.
“We take turns selecting the music. Most just ask for Cari’s playlist; she’s got a knack for it.”
He slipped the straps off her shoulders and peeled the chemise down to her waist. She didn’t move this time, other than to tremble. His gaze followed the descent of black lace sliding down creamy skin inch by inch.
Her soft “ah” became a startled squeak when he rose with her in his arms and set her down on the chair. Then he knelt between her thighs, spreading them wide.
“If I’d known I’d find you here, I’d have brought cuffs. Some find the control required for self-restraint hotter than leather and rope. Can you hold still for me?”
She nodded. “I’ll be good.”
A low hum of approval vibrated in his chest. “That’s what I like to hear.”
He traced a fingertip around her nipple, watching it tighten. Her breasts rose and fell in small, tremulous breaths. The straps at her elbows pinned her arms to her sides—not true restraint, she could slip free at any moment. But it was a reminder of who guided the scene.
She was a vision—laid open for him, a single whisper of silk keeping him from everything he wanted. Desire slammed through him, urging him to tear the barrier away and take her in one claiming stroke.
But he wouldn’t.
Not yet.
Tonight wasn’t about him—it was about showing her exactly what it meant to choose him, what it meant to submit to someone who knew how to handle her body and her trust. It was a slow, purposeful, sensual education she’d never mistake for vanilla again.
He pressed two fingers lightly to her lips. “Open.”
She obeyed, her mouth wrapping around his finger.
“Good girl,” he murmured, voice going rough. “Now suck.”
She did—eager, unhesitating—and the sight nearly undid him. He was used to savoring the tease, to taking his time, but with Emily spread and trembling, patience became punishment.
His cock throbbed against his zipper, demanding he quit playing and claim what was his.
He didn’t move, didn’t take, didn’t let go.
Instead, he dragged the wetness she’d given him across her nipples, circling each rosy point until they glistened. Then he rolled them gently between his fingers.
“You said the spanking made you hot,” he murmured. “It stands to reason other erotic pain might have the same effect.”
He increased the pressure, tugging ever so slightly. Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips. He gave her more pulling, rolling, pinching firmly. She didn’t protest. Instead, she arched toward him, offering herself.
Damn. She was perfect.
His hands moved lower, pulled aside the crotch of her panties, revealing glistening pink folds. His fingers stroked, and, unable to wait another moment, he bent and licked into her, savoring the slick, salty-sweet taste of her.
“Alec,” she cried.
He didn’t answer—just kept going, tongue working her, savoring the sounds she tried but couldn’t hold back.
She writhed, hips arching toward him. “Please...”
“Please what, baby?”
Her head rolled helplessly, struggling to find the words. That was fine for her first time. In the future, he’d have her articulate every need.
He slid a finger into her—tight, hot, clenching around him.
When he added a second, she cried out. “Yes. Oh god. Just like that.”
Her cry fractured as her orgasm hit—sharp, sudden, pulsing against his tongue. He held her steady, his mouth soothing her through every tremor.
She sighed, and he pulled his fingers free. When she opened her eyes and looked down at him, he brought them to his mouth. She gasped softly as he licked them, slow and deliberate, eyes locked with hers.
Then he offered them to her.
Her eyes flared wide, shocked, but she opened, taking them in, sucking, swirling her tongue, and lapping up her own juices.
She was being so good—open and trusting. But it was all he could stand.
Alec surged to his feet and yanked open his fly. He freed himself, paused the excruciating seconds it took for protection, then stroked once before he brushed the head across her lips.
She opened for him without reservation, and it was nearly his undoing.
He groaned as her mouth closed around him—hot, slick, eager. While she attended to him, he didn’t leave her out. His fingers sank into her again as his other hand threaded into her hair, guiding her rhythm, matching the thrust of his cock with the glide of his fingers.
Release built fast—too fast—but he wasn’t about to finish without her. He added his thumb, circling her clit lightly then firmer, syncing his thrusting hips with her rising moans.
Her entire body tightened—thighs trembling, throat working around him as a broken cry spilled past her lips. Another orgasm hit her in a shuddering wave, clenching around his fingers.
His control was down to a tiny thread. Thank fuck—it was his turn now. The question was—did he come down her throat or inside her?
The latter almost always won out. It did now.
He withdrew with a ragged exhale.
“The panties have to go,” he said, voice thick with need. “Stand up.”
She rose on shaky legs, flushed and glistening with sweat and arousal.
He held up a finger—still wet from her—and twirled it.
Understanding his silent command, she turned to face the chair.
Alec slid the panties down her legs, steadying her as she stepped out of them.
“Kneel on the seat and lean over the back,” he ordered next.
While she settled into place, he shoved down his pants.
Her ass was round and firm. Perfect for his palm or a flogger, but there would be time for that later. He stroked his cock, just enough to ease the ache then squatted behind her and buried his face between her thighs.
Alec licked from her clit to entrance, dipping inside before moving higher and swirling his tongue over the smaller opening. But that initiation was for another scene, another night.
He grabbed a condom from his jeans pocket, rolled it on, and sank into her in one claiming thrust.
Her heat enveloped him—tight, yielding, almost too good to bear. He adjusted her position, leaning her forward until her head hung over the chair back. Then he gathered her hair in one hand, anchoring her.
He eased out then surged in again with one hard, disciplined stroke—holding onto his control by sheer force of will.
One hand reached behind her, fingers curling around his thigh as she rocked to meet him, instinct overriding direction. He could have let it slide but didn’t. He was a dominant, after all.
His hand came down on a rounded cheek. Not a punishment, just a reminder. Enough to pierce the haze of pleasure.
Startled, she yelped. She tried to turn and look at him, but his hand in the thick skein of her hair prevented it.
“Where are your hands supposed to be, Emily?”
She immediately put them behind her.
“That’s it,” he murmured, wrapping his hand around both wrists, helping her hold the position.
He slid out and then glided home again, finding a driving rhythm that made her cry out every time he filled her.
Her cries rose, high and breathless, feeding the fire ripping through him. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, until everything disappeared in a rough, guttural roar as he came, pulsing deep inside her.