Chapter 22
Skye
Ice.
I gasp as the ice cube traces a path down between my breasts, leaving a trail of water that feels like fire against my heated skin. He follows the melting trail with his tongue, the contrast between cold and warm making me shudder against the restraints.
"Please," I breathe, not even sure what I'm asking for.
"Please, what?" His voice is rough, commanding. The ice finds the small of my back, then disappears. I hear it hit the floor with a soft clink.
"I don't know," I admit, my head falling back against the cross.
"That's exactly where I want you. Lost. Desperate. Ready to let me decide what you need."
His hands return to my body, this time without warning. One cups my breast while the other slides down my stomach, lower, until his fingers brush through the soft curls between my thighs. I cry out at the contact, my hips jerking forward despite the restraints.
"So wet already," he murmurs, his finger barely grazing my slick folds. "Tell me who you belong to tonight."
"You," I gasp as he circles my clit with the barest pressure. "I belong to you."
"That's right." His finger dips lower, teasing my entrance without entering. "And what do you want from me?"
My mind struggles to form words as he continues his torturous teasing. "Everything. I want everything."
His chuckle is low. The sound vibrates through me. "Greedy girl."
One finger slides inside me, and I clench around it, a moan escaping my lips. He adds a second, stretching me as his thumb finds my clit again.
"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice a caress against my ear. "So perfect for me."
I can't see him, but I can feel his presence, his heat radiating as he steps closer. His lips find my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin as his fingers curl inside me, finding that spot that makes my legs tremble.
"Oh God," I gasp, my hips bucking against his hand.
"Not God," he corrects, his voice like velvet wrapped around steel. "Just me."
His fingers withdraw suddenly, leaving me empty and aching. I whimper at the loss, straining against my restraints.
"Patience," he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. "We have all night."
I hear the rustle of fabric, the soft hiss of a zipper. He's undressing. The thought sends another wave of heat through me, pooling low in my belly. Without my sight, my imagination fills in the blanks, his broad shoulders, the defined muscles of his chest, the trail of dark hair leading down...
"Color?" he asks, his voice closer now.
"Green," I breathe. "So green."
His naked chest presses against mine, skin to skin. His hands grip my hips, positioning me exactly where he wants me. I can feel him hard and ready, pressing against my thigh. The anticipation is killing me, every nerve ending on fire.
I feel him shift, positioning himself at my entrance. The head of his cock nudges against me, teasing, promising. My breath catches in my throat as he slowly pushes forward, just enough to make me feel the stretch.
"Is this what you want?" He withdraws slightly, then presses in a fraction deeper.
"Yes," I moan, trying to arch my hips toward him, but the restraints hold me firmly in place. I'm completely at his mercy, unable to control the pace or depth. The vulnerability is intoxicating.
"Tell me," he commands, his voice rough with restraint. "Tell me exactly what you want."
"I want you inside me. All of you. Please." The words tumble out, desperate and honest.
He rewards me by sliding deeper, inch by torturous inch, until he's fully seated inside me. We both groan at the sensation, my body adjusting to his size. He stays still for a moment, letting me feel how completely he fills me.
"So tight," he breathes against my neck. "Perfect."
Then he moves, with slow and deliberate thrusts that make me gasp with each one. His hands grip my hips, controlling every movement, every sensation. I'm completely helpless, suspended between the cross and his body, existing only in this moment of pure feeling.
"You're mine tonight," he growls, his pace increasing slightly. "Say it."
"I'm yours," I gasp, the words torn from my throat as he hits that perfect spot inside me. "Only yours."
"Good girl," he praises, and the words send a thrill through me that rivals the physical pleasure building between my legs.
His thrusts grow more insistent, more demanding. One hand leaves my hip to tangle in my hair, tugging my head back to expose my throat. His lips find my pulse point, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there before he sucks hard enough to leave a mark.
"I want everyone to see," he growls against my skin. "To know you're claimed."
The thought of wearing his mark sends a fresh wave of arousal through me. I belong to him in this moment-- claimed, marked, and possessed. The realization pushes me closer to the edge.
"Please," I whimper, straining against the restraints.
"Please, what?" His voice is commanding even as his breathing grows ragged. His hips never stop their relentless rhythm.
"Let me come. Please, Sir."
"I don't care where we are. When I'm inside you, you will use my name."
"Please, Gage," I correct myself, his name falling from my lips like a benediction. "Please let me come."
He groans at the sound of his name, his control wavering for just a moment. His thrusts become more erratic, more desperate. "That's it. Say it again."
"Gage," I breathe, and then louder as he drives deeper, "Gage, please."
"Come for me, Skye. Now." His voice is raw, commanding, and my body obeys instantly.
The orgasm crashes through me like a tidal wave, every muscle tensing as pleasure radiates from my core outward.
I cry out his name again, louder this time, as my inner walls clench around him.
The sensation seems to go on forever, intensified by the darkness behind the blindfold.
I'm still trembling when I feel him stiffen, his grip on my hips tightening to the point of delicious pain. He buries himself deep inside me with one final thrust and groans my name against my neck as he finds his own release.
For several moments, we stay like that, our bodies pressed together, both of us breathing hard. I can feel his heart hammering against my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
Slowly, he withdraws from me, and I whimper at the sudden emptiness. His hands move to the cuffs at my ankles first, releasing them with practiced ease. My legs wobble as they're freed, but he steadies me with a firm hand at my waist.
"I've got you," he murmurs, reaching up to unbuckle my wrists.
As the last restraint falls away, he scoops me into his arms and carries me to the bed. The mattress dips beneath our combined weight as he lays me down, my body still trembling with aftershocks.
A warm blanket covers me as his breath brushes my cheek, and he peppers my face with kisses. His fingers trace along my jawline before they are gone.
"Water?" he asks, handing me a bottle.
I nod, suddenly aware of how dry my throat is. He helps me sit up, one hand supporting my back as I drink. The cool liquid is heaven against my parched lips.
I reach up to touch the blindfold.
"Leave it on," he orders.
"Why?" I ask finally.
He exhales slowly. "Plausible deniability."
The words hit me like cold water. I set the bottle down carefully, my hands suddenly unsteady. "What does that mean?"
"It means," he says, his voice quieter now, "that if anyone asks, you were never here with your professor. You were here with a Dom who happens to have a strong resemblance to your professor."
"What?"
"If I never see your eyes, if you never see mine, it feels... cleaner."
I frown. "Cleaner?"
"Less guilt."
The silence stretches.
"You feel guilty for being with me?"
His arms tighten around me.
"No," he says. "I feel guilty about how much I want you. Then I feel guilty for not feeling guilty like I should."
He doesn't move for a long time, but just holds me. Our breaths slowly align, syncing like our bodies had earlier. The blindfold is still in place, and I wonder if he's watching me, or if his eyes are closed too.
"You okay?" he asks finally, voice softer now, frayed around the edges.
"Yes," I whisper. "More than."
His fingers trace slow circles on my hip. "You surprised me, Skye. I didn't think you'd come tonight."
"Neither did I."
He chuckles low in his throat. "Why did you?"
I shift slightly, nestling closer. "Because when you tell me to give in... something in me wants to. Because I feel safe with you."
His breath catches, and I feel his lips press against my temple. "That might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."
I smile, even though he can't see it behind the blindfold. "It's true."
"I want to protect you," he murmurs, his fingers trailing up my spine. "Not just here. Everywhere."
The weight of his words settles over me, warm and terrifying all at once. This is exactly what I was afraid of--this moment where the lines blur beyond recognition. Where Professor Gage and Dominant Gage become one person who wants more than I've ever let anyone have.
"Can I ask you something?" His voice breaks through my thoughts.
"Yes."
"Why do you push me away outside of here?"
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly tight. "Because it's safer."
"For who?"
"For me," I admit, the words barely audible. "For both of us."
His hand stills on my back. "Explain."
I take a deep breath, grateful for the blindfold hiding my expression. "Every person I've ever let close has either left or gotten hurt. My dad left. My mom is sick. I've spent my whole life being the responsible one, the one who holds everything together."
"And you think I'll leave too?" His voice is careful, measured.
"Or I'll hurt you. Or this will blow up and ruin everything we've both worked for." My fingers curl against his chest.
He's silent for a long moment, his heartbeat steady beneath my palm. "Those are all valid concerns."
"They are," I agree, surprised by his acknowledgment.
"But they're also excuses."
I stiffen slightly. "They're not…"
"They are," he cuts me off, voice gentle but firm. "They're reasons to keep your walls up. To stay safe in your carefully constructed life."
"What's wrong with wanting safety?" I challenge.
His fingers trace up my spine, making me shiver. "Nothing. Except when it keeps you from living."
I let that sink in, the truth of it settling uncomfortably in my chest. "It's not that simple."
"It never is," he agrees. "But consider this: what if I don't leave? What if we don't ruin each other? What if, just maybe, we're exactly what the other needs?"
My breath hitches at the possibility he's lying out. It's everything I want and everything I'm terrified of wrapped into one simple question.
"You don't know what you're asking for," I whisper.
"Tell me then." His thumb traces along my collarbone. "Tell me what I'd be signing up for."
I turn my face into his chest, breathing in his scent.
"Late-night calls when my mom has a bad day.
Helping her while ignoring the fact that there is a good chance she still might not make it.
Letting my dad pay for school out of spite and going for my master's, not because I wanted it, but as a fuck you to him.
A girlfriend who shops at thrift stores and clips coupons because she refuses to take a penny more from her dad than what she needs for school.
Someone who's never had a real relationship because she's too busy surviving. "
"Is that what you think would scare me off?" There's something almost amused in his voice.
"Shouldn't it?"
"Skye." He tilts my chin up, and I can feel his gaze on me even through the blindfold. "You've just described a woman who is resilient, loyal, and principled. Someone who takes care of the people she loves and stands her ground. That's not baggage to me. That's character."
I swallow hard, emotion closing my throat. "You make it sound so noble."
"It is." His lips brush against my forehead. "But it's also exhausting to carry alone. You don't have to anymore."
"I've never known how to put it down," I admit.
His hand finds mine, fingers intertwining. "That's what this is for, isn't it? What we do here? You give me control so you can rest."
"Yes."
"Then let me help you. Trust me and let me in." His voice is careful, measured. "What if I could be that for you outside these walls too?"
My heart races. "You mean like... a relationship?"
"A real one," he confirms, his thumb stroking across my knuckles. "Not just scenes at the club. Not just stolen moments between classes. Something honest."
His words hang between us, heavy with possibility and terror. I feel exposed in a way that has nothing to do with my nakedness.
"What about school? The ethics violations? Your career?"
"We'll be careful. Discreet. It's only one semester, Skye. We can make it work."
"And if we can't? If someone finds out?"
His grip on my hand tightens. "Then we deal with it. Together."
The certainty in his voice makes my chest ache. When was the last time someone offered to share the burden instead of adding to it?
"I'm scared," I whisper.
"I know. So am I." His confession surprises me. "I've never wanted someone this much. What scares me more is losing you. Don't make a decision tonight. Just think about it."
I nod against his chest, unable to form words around the emotion lodging in my throat. The blindfold is damp now from tears I didn't realize I was shedding.
"Can I take this off now?" I ask, touching the silk covering my eyes.
His hand covers mine, stilling it. "Not yet. Just... let me hold you like this a little longer."
I understand. With the blindfold on, we can pretend this conversation happened between strangers. That these promises were whispered in the dark by people who don't have names or complications.
But I can feel the shift between us, the way something fundamental has changed.