Chapter 31 #2
“No, no,” I say as I tug the tie slowly from my shirt. “If you want this, like this, you will follow my rules, Miss Bates,” I emphasize the name to clue her into how I want this to play out.
“If I remember correctly, Mr. Graves, I have always followed your rules. Every single one of them,” she says with just enough sass to bring the aforementioned primal animal further out of the cage.
“Then you’ll have no issue following a new set of rules then,” I tell her as I take the tie and blindfold her with it.
A smile begins to creep across her lips, and I scoop her up, taking her into my room.
“Well, this isn’t fair,” she teases. “I don’t even get a tour of the house?”
I don’t answer. I don’t say anything. I take her into the room and lay her on my California King bed.
I then peel the dress from her body, sliding it down her curves and letting it fall to the floor.
She isn’t wearing a bra, and her satin panties are the same color as the dress.
I like black, but something about this girl in color brightens my whole life.
I’m more struck by her than I am by the Vegas lights.
I kiss her, surprising her, and make my way down the front of her. As I kiss her most sensitive spots, her back arches, needing, begging for more, but we aren’t going to do this the way we usually do.
I take her wrists in my hands and pin them to the bed above her head. Ellie sucks in a sharp breath.
“Do you want it, Ellie?” I ask as I kiss her collarbone. She lets out a small laugh, and I scratch my teeth against her collarbone.
“Yes,” she says, sinking back into the bed.
“You trust me?” I ask, and she nods. “Say it.”
“I trust you, Mr. Graves,” she says.
“Damien.”
“Damien.”
“What is the safe word?” I ask.
“Locket,” she whispers. “I want it. I want you. Make me yours.”
I tighten the blindfold and clip her chin between my fingers. “Don’t go anywhere.”
I open one of my dresser drawers and rummage around in it.
“What’s that?” she asks, smiling from the bed. She hasn’t moved. Her hands are still pinned above her head, and I’m not even holding them there.
Good girl.
“You’ll see,” I tell her, grabbing something and closing the drawer.
I climb on top of her, straddling her, and reach for her hands. She gasps. “Handcuffs?”
“Yes,” I say as I secure them. They’re leather, soft on the inside. I link them to the bed and run my hands down her arms, over her breasts, down her torso.
“Are you going to be a good girl?” I ask.
Ellie bites her lip and says nothing. I grab her leg and turn it to the side and smack her on the ass–hard.
“Yes,” she gasps.
“Yes, what?” I gruffly say.
“Yes, sir, I’m going to be a good girl.”
“That’s right.”
I grab her leg again, flipping it back over, spreading her knees apart. Then, I use the tip of my finger to tease her as softly as possible, just a flutter on the outside of her panties. Her hips arch upward for more, but I pull back, stopping altogether. Ellie lets out a frustrated ahh.
“Who do you belong to?” I ask.
“You.”
“Say my name,” I demand, my voice nearly a shout.
“Damien,” she purrs. “I belong to you, Damien.”
“Yes, you do. Now beg.”
“Please…” she whimpers.
“Please, what?”
“Please make me come.”
I wait a moment, letting her lay blindly in aching anticipation before I rip her panties from her hard enough to make her gasp.
I tease her with the tip of my tongue. I lap up and down her pussy from one end to the other, avoiding contact with her clit each time.
Ellie moans softly at the tease, and every time I get close, her hands strain against the leather bondage.
I sit up and run my middle finger down the length of her before circling her opening and thrusting it inside.
Immediately, I pump, making her cry out as she gushes, but she hasn’t come yet.
I quickly learned with this girl that just because she is wet, just because she is dripping, doesn’t mean she came.
She pulls hard at the cuffs, clanging against the hooks on the frame; her knuckles turn white.
I finger fuck her until her body tenses and shakes, but it’s only a small orgasm.
A rolling wave, not a crashing tide. I’ll save that for later.
With my finger still inside her, I use my thumb to rub her clit, and she bucks against me again.
“Fuck,” she lets out.
“No, no,” I say sternly. “My good girl will not have a dirty mouth.”
“Yes,” she says instead, and because she cannot see me, I let a smirk crawl across my lips.
She waits for my next move. Is it thrusting? Is it flicking? For a second, but only a second, I do both at the same time, and she moans. Then I stop.
“Damien…” she whines.
I wait. My free hand reaches up and pinches her nipple, startling her.
I rub it between my fingers, and she arches her back.
Then I stop and go back to thrusting, driving my finger harder and harder into her.
Before she can have a second orgasm, I stop, switching to tickling her clit.
For what must feel like hours, I tease her this way, keeping her guessing.
“Damien…” she begs, her voice hoarse from moaning.
“You want it?”
“Yes, please.”
“Tell me what you want, Mariposa…” I grit out in her face.
Her lips are close enough to mine that I can taste her breath: sweet, tangy, hot.
“I want you to fuck me, Damien.”
The beast takes over. I shove my slacks off, kicking them aside, and stroke myself twice, just enough to get the blood pumping, but not enough to inch me close to coming. I want every moment of that to come from her pussy gripped around me.
I shove her legs even further apart and drive myself into her.
“F–yes!” she screams, straining even harder against the cuffs. She’s small, but she’s strong, giving those hooks a run for their money.
I hover over her, sliding in and out several times to get things flowing.
After that, I come to my knees. Then I yank her by the hips, holding her up so I can pound her into submission, moving only my own hips.
I waste no time and hold nothing back, pushing deeper and deeper until she screams, I groan, and we both come undone.
Sweat drips down my temples and mats her hair to her face around the tie.
I wipe my hand down my face before crawling up to her side.
Then I untie her blindfold, and her eyes flutter open, finding mine.
My gaze connects with hers for a second before I kiss her, softly, unrushed. Then, I undo the restraints.
I kiss her wrists, pink from pulling so hard, mindful of the needed aftercare. Then I kiss her lips again, no tongue, no lust, before laying down to face her.
“How are you?” I whisper the question as I push the hair from her face.
“Amazing,” she says just as softly.
“Did I hurt you?” I ask, and Ellie shakes her head.
“No.”
“Good,” I say, pressing my lips on her forehead. “I never want to hurt you.”
Her eyes slowly close, and within moments, sleep claims her. Her breathing is rhythmic, soft, unworried. I take in a deep breath and let it out. I’m not lying. I would never hurt her if I could help it. In fact, I could spend every day of my life making sure nothing ever hurts her.
My heart slams against my ribcage as I make a realization. I am in the danger zone. Ellie found a way into my life twice. She burrowed herself beneath my skin, slid into my dreams, consumed my thoughts, and now she is in my house, in my bed. I have never let a woman into my bed.
This is a no-trespassing zone. I am breaking my own rules, but something about that jump-starts my heart again. It’s thrilling. I love walking on the edge of danger, and I’ve never been one to follow rules; even if they are my own.