30. Siena
Siena
M y vision is blacked out by the blindfold, but every cell of my body is awake.
I squirm against the restraints, my wrists tied to the back of the chair, fingertips brushing the seat. My ankles are bound too, holding my legs in place, but my knees are spread wide. I’m suddenly very aware that I’m wearing a very short dress, the hem riding up, exposing my bare thighs.
Matti must be aware of it, too. A featherlight touch trails up my thigh—soft, teasing, maddening.
It’s not his hand. What is it? My breath hitches as the sensation stops, then begins again, this time starting at my knee and slowly working its way upward.
“What is that?” I whisper. I don’t know why I’m whispering. Maybe it’s the heat radiating from him, or the heavy, humid air between us, thick enough to steal my voice. I feel like I’m melting.
“You said you trusted me, kitten.” His voice is gravelly and deep, steeped in control.
In my mind’s eye, I imagine his stubbled jawline, his warm mouth, those lips.
Blindfolded, I have no choice but to focus on the sound of him, the feel of him, the scent of his skin.
I let my other senses take over and close my eyes beneath the fabric.
“I do trust you, Matti,” I murmur.
I do. I don’t know why I do. But I do. There’s just no way that the man who makes me feel this way can be the one who took away my sister, my best friend. The universe can’t be that unkind.
He exhales sharply, the air brushing against my cheek. Then he shifts, the warmth of his breath disappearing as he stands. My pulse stutters at the loss of contact, anticipation coiling tightly in my chest.
I can feel him behind me as that teasing touch travels higher, sliding across the hem of my dress, up over my torso, skimming my neckline. The silky sensation glides across my chest, up over my shoulder.
It’s his tie, I realize with a shiver, smooth and cool against my heated skin. He pulls the fabric tighter across my throat, the faint pressure stealing my breath.
Just when I start to panic, he leans down and kisses my neck, soft and reassuring. A rush of wetness soaks my panties, and I try to squeeze my thighs together, but the restraints hold me in place, amplifying my need.
Matti pulls the tie up under my chin, tilting my head back. I’m helpless to resist as his licks along my lips then trails kisses along my jaw, dragging the tip of his tongue lightly down the column of my neck.
When his mouth finds the curve where my shoulder begins, he sinks his teeth into my skin, gently at first, but with steady and growing pressure until I hear myself moan.
Matti soothes the spot with a kiss. “Do you like that, kitten? ”
I take a deep breath in and nod.
“Use your voice, Siena.” His tone is firm, commanding. “When I ask you a question, you need to answer out loud.”
“I… I like the way you make the pain feel good,” I admit, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. My cheeks flush hot. Did I really just say that? I don’t think I even knew this about myself. It’s definitely not anything that I’ve done with anyone else. Not even close.
“Good girl.” His growl sends a shiver down my spine. The tie tightens again, not enough to hurt, just enough to press against my throat.
His mouth is on my neck again, sucking and biting at my skin, and slowly the fabric begins to tighten around my throat again. My breathing isn’t restricted; it’s just pressure. But I start to panic, and I stiffen in my chair.
Matti notices immediately. “What’s wrong, kitten?” He snaps, his voice harsh.
“My neck, I don’t… “ The words stick in my throat. It’s one thing to tell him I like something, but I’m inexplicably nervous about telling him when I want him to stop.
His words echo in my head: I’m your monster.
“Am I hurting you?” Concern softens his voice, breaking through my hesitation.
“No, the, the…” I move my head, trying to point down at the fabric thing with my chin.
“Oh, my tie. You don’t like the tie.” The fabric drags across my throat and disappears.
The absence of pressure makes my pussy clench with need. My heart pounds. Maybe if…
“Can you maybe…” I swallow hard. “Can you use your hands instead? ”
“You want my hand on your throat, kitten?” His voice sounds like he’s smiling, and his strong, warm hand moves around the base of my neck. He pauses. “Siena—”
“Yes, I want your hand on my throat, please,” I whisper.
He slowly exerts pressure, squeezing just hard enough to get my heart racing as he goes back to kissing my shoulder with little nips and bites. “That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, his voice husky.
My hips start to rock slightly, almost involuntarily, straining against the restraints, and my ass slides further down the seat, my knees spreading wide. I am so wet, and I want him between my thighs so badly. But I won’t let myself ask for it.
His hand slips beneath the neckline of my dress to cup my breast. With his other hand, he pulls at the stretchy fabric, yanking it down, then pushes my jacket off my shoulders, the sleeves trapping my arms against my sides.
He pulls the straps of my bra down, peeling the lace cups open so that my breasts spill free.
My breathing quickens as I suddenly remember that this chair is facing the door. The idea that someone might walk in and see Matti claiming me, possessing me, sends heat coursing through my body.
Matti kneels in front of me, spreading my knees wider with his broad shoulders. The heat of his body against my thighs has me trembling.
Without warning, his hot mouth is on my nipple. He sucks it between his teeth, and I gasp.
“Fuck, kitten,” he groans. “Your tits are amazing.”
He rolls the other nipple between his fingers until they are both hard, a moan escaping my lips. I allow my head to drop back as I slide my hips further toward the edge of the chair, pressing my body against him as much as I can.
Releasing my nipples, Matti presses his hands against my inner thighs.
He is so big, he forces my ankles to test the bounds of the restraints as he moves in closer, opens me up to him.
A light cool breath of air brushes against the wet fabric stretched across my hot swollen pussy, and I realize that he’s blowing lightly on me as I hear myself whimper.
“You want something, kitten?” He sounds amused with an edge to his voice.
For a split second, I snap back to reality, rebelling against the idea of giving into this man, asking him for anything.
But almost immediately, that thought evaporates, forgotten, as he slides his palms up the inside of my thighs then drags my panties to the side, sinking one finger deep inside me.
“Oh shit!” My hips buck of their own accord, but he holds me down with his other hand, keeping me pinned to the chair.
“What do you want, Siena?” He continues to finger fuck me slowly, his voice hard and commanding. “Say it.”
“You,” I gasp. “I want you.”
In one fluid motion, he pulls his finger out of my pussy and drags me to the edge of the chair.
His mouth is on me before I can process what’s happening, tongue plunging deep into my opening, thumb pressing hard circles against my clit.
He’s relentless, his other hand wrapped around my thigh, fingertips digging in, bruising me, amplifying the intensity.
It takes only minutes of this punishing pressure for that tight familiar heat to build in my core as I buck my hips against him, reveling in the way his beard scratches against my sensitive skin.
He thrusts two fingers deep inside me, moving his mouth to my clit, sucking and nipping at the bundle of nerves.
When he groans, devouring me, the reverberations tip me over the edge, and my orgasm tears through me.
A rush of wetness floods his mouth, dripping down my thighs, and he devours every shuddering pulse until I’m trembling and spent.
As I pant, trying to catch my breath, thankful for the ties holding me upright in the chair, he trails kisses up my body. His lips brush mine as he murmurs, “Hold on, kitten. I’m not done with you yet.”