CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT CECI
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ceci
Two burning coals peered out from behind those slits. Small oval openings that had been carved in the iron to reveal at least that much of the man.
I thought you abandoned the mask.
Not tonight, Ceci.
He wore a white shirt that gripped his shoulders, hugged his waist and slipped like water over stone revealing every ripple of his core. The sleeves clutched his biceps and were rolled up at the elbows so she could see the taught veins that tracked his forearms.
He didn’t sit upright. His spine wasn’t stiff or erect. Although another part of him was, she thought, as her eyes drifted to the flagpole he’d planted between his thighs.
But that was the only rigid thing about him. The rest of him was loose, languid, liquid. His arms hanging lazily by his sides, his hands and those elegant fingers resting casually in his lap, on either side of his cock. And his legs splayed.
She hated when men did that. And they did it all the time.
Everywhere. Sitting on the bus, on the subway, at the theater, in the doctor’s office.
They took up not only their space, but hers as well, while she was expected to accommodate them, slap her knees together, make herself as small as possible, give the man more room.
I hate when men do that.
Do what?
Take up more space than they should.
Should, Ceci? Are we going to talk morality?
You take up so much space there’s little left for me. Why do you do that?
Because I can.
Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should. You told me that.
Did I? He crooked his finger. Come here.
Her heart beat so hard and fast, she heard it clanging like a church bell in her ears.
Why? What are you going to do?
Nothing you haven’t asked for.
That voice echoed from behind the iron.
She ventured forward. Her steps, slow and hesitant.
I’m going to give you what you want.
But what if I don’t know what I want?
Don’t worry. I do.
When she was within reach, he grabbed her arm and yanked her forward until she was standing between his thighs.
She looked down and suddenly realized she was naked, except for her panties.
Hello, Hansel, he said, pinching one nipple.
She swore she saw him grin even though she knew that was impossible, given the slit in the iron mask that exposed his mouth was too small. But it wasn’t too small for his tongue to fit through it.
He pulled her to him. That hard, cold, unforgiving metal rammed against her chest.
Gretel, he murmured, grazing her other nipple with his hot breath. And then something wet teased it with a light lick.
His tongue.
She leaned into him, wanting him to take more as shivers rippled through her body. The hard edge of his teeth nipped gently before biting hard, and a groan escaped her lips.
He pulled back, placing his hands at her hips. These are in the way, he said, slipping his fingers under the elastic band of her panties and sliding them down her thighs.
His silky skin made her sigh until she felt the rough edge of those callouses scrape like the edge of a knife.
How did you get callouses?
From doing things.
What things?
Step out of those panties, spread your legs, and I’ll show you.
She looked down. Her panties were around her ankles. She did as she was told.
One hand slid up her inner thigh and then she felt a finger glide along her slick pussy.
She shuddered.
Hmmm … tell me you’ve been thinking of me, Ceci.
The finger slipped in between the folds of her wet vagina.
And if I don’t? Her voice trembled. If I wasn’t?
That finger stopped just shy of her clit.
Are you telling me you were thinking of someone else?
She shook her head.
Good, he said, slipping one finger inside her. Because if you were thinking of someone else, anything else, I would be very angry. Now come here.
Come here? What did he mean? She was already—she gasped, rocking forward, as he curved his finger, a sudden jolt of electric fire simmering beneath her skin.
He pulled out. You’re dripping, Ceci. Two fingers slid in. I said, come here.
He did it again, crooking his fingers, beckoning her.
Her entire body began to tremble.
The two fingers slipped out.
Fuck you’re wet, he said, staring at his drenched fingers. The mask tilted up and those blazing coals made her flinch. I like that. But don’t make me ask you a third time, he said, inserting three fingers, pushing up and in.
She cried out, as he curled those fingers, and flicked them again and again.
She swore she could see his teasing grin under that iron.
Come here, Ceci. Come here. Come. Here.
Her shaking grew more violent.
I don’t think I can stand much longer, she managed between ragged breaths.
In that case, he said, his voice cool and casual, take a seat.
Then he pulled out his fingers.
Fucker, she thought.
It took her a moment but she finally summoned up enough breath to speak.
Where, she asked, both legs and voice trembling as she looked down at his spreadeagle thighs and that flagpole between them.
He patted his left thigh, but as she began to lower herself, he threw her over his right and rubbed his palm over her ass. She stiffened, every square inch of her on high alert.
Now what?
I told you. I’m going to give you what you asked for.
Her heart tripped. She couldn’t tell whether it was fear or anticipation. But she had no time to decide because suddenly and with no warning he smacked her ass. Hard. Sharp and stinging, her breath shuttered.
And then he did it again.
A thrumming between her thighs became a pounding, something inside her begging to be released.
And again.
Her flesh was on fire. Every smack a lit match.
One more time and that’s all it took.
The four elements—earth, water, air, and fire—converged and lit her up from head to toe.
Her body shook so violently, she would have fallen off him, had he not held her there and smacked her again.
A sudden gust of liquid heat plundered every inch of flesh, and sparks flashed before her eyes.
When she shut them, they were still there.
One more smack and she couldn’t breathe.
Am I going to pass out?
He chuckled. You mean, am I going to find you lying unconscious on the men’s room floor of the Royal Horseguards Hotel?
One more smack and that sharp, burning sting of pleasure made her cry out just before everything went black.
When she came to, she felt serene. She was standing. But not for long. Her bones had dissolved. Her legs couldn’t hold her up.
I can’t—
I told you. Take a seat.
Are you going to do … that … again?
The iron mask tilted up, and those two black orbs met her gaze.
Sit on my lap.
She turned her back to him but he grabbed her hips, stopping her when she began to lower herself.
Turn around.
Why?
Because I want to see your face when I do what I’m about to do to you.
She hesitated. Clutching her waist, he swung her around so swiftly it made her dizzy.
She stared at his legs flung wide open. He swung them together.
Spread your thighs and sit down, Ceci.
She did.
Now let’s see if I was right about you and those cats, he murmured.
Cats?
The four cats on the stationery. The rare ones Pixel told you about.
He placed his hands on her thighs and began to stroke them. Lowering his head, the iron mask swayed from side to side as he gazed at them.
The Amur leopard is known for its agility, he purred, swung his legs out, spreading hers wide so unexpectedly both her breath and heart tripped.
Hmmm … he took one finger and slid it over her soaked pussy, teasing the edge of her vagina, circling it with his finger but stopping before it reached her clit.
He lifted his head. She stared into those two slits and saw only darkness.
The black-footed cat employs different tactics when hunting.
The “fast hunt”—he grabbed her ass cheeks and thrust her up.
One finger toyed with her opening, just before the tip of it entered.
She cried out but made no sound because he swallowed it when he attacked her mouth with his own, his breath and liquid tongue moving at a deliberate and leisurely pace.
Had he removed his mask? No, he’s still wearing it, she thought, when he finally released her lips, removed that finger, and pushed her back down.
How did he do that? Then there’s the “slow hunt,” he growled, his hands twisting and turning like a snake up her thighs until his thumbs grazed the edge of that neatly trimmed triangle. And suddenly stopped.
Move them, she kept thinking.
But he didn’t.
And lastly, he said, not even trying to hide the hint of amusement in his voice, the “sit and wait” tactic.
She squirmed, trying to lift herself, shift her position, place her clit on his thumbs, coax them to move. But he wouldn’t let her. He held her firm and chuckled as warm liquid that had pooled between her thighs dripped onto his cock.
Now the Iberian lynx is a prey specialist, He lifted her and placed her pussy on the bulge in his pants. His mask tilted as he looked down at it and then up again at her.
It only has one prey.
It scratches trees and leaves its scent to mark its territory.
His spine slackened, melting into the back of the chair. One quick tilt of the mask indicated his crotch.
Go ahead, Ceci. Mark me.
She rubbed against his cock, the coarse material scuffing her pussy, making her wonder who was marking who.
That mask tilted back as he groaned. I bet you taste good, Ceci.
She felt her wetness seep through his pants and a humming vibrate between her thighs as she rubbed up and down his dick, which kept twitching and thrusting, pushing against the confines of his pants.
The mask slung forward. My cock is soaked, Ceci.
The last cat is the fishing cat, he said in a low whisper she had to lean forward to catch.
This cat has an affinity for water.
Now be a good kitty cat and stroke my cock with your wet pussy, Ceci.
She looked down. His pants were gone. There was just his rigid, pink dick.
He clutched her waist, lifting her up and off his lap. She was about to lower herself, but he held her, so the tip of his wet cock teased the opening of her vagina.
You know how to ride a bull, Ceci. Ride me.
She slid down. He was soaked. Hard, plump, and so warm and smooth it felt like she was sliding up and down velvet.
This cannot be one and the same man. It cannot. Can. Not. Be. She tried to hold her breath, but she couldn’t do it and a moan escaped her lips. Her breathing was stilted, her body on vibrate.
When he finally exploded, she shook with such violence, she could feel parts of herself splinter and shatter as if she were made of glass. He was going to wreck her. And she welcomed it as every cell in her body was set alight.
When she was able to gather enough breath to speak and enough brain cells to form a coherent thought, she asked him.
How do you know these things?
Get on your hands and knees and I’ll show you.
Ceci woke with a jolt. Her heart racing, her body trembling, and a pool of wetness between her thighs.
Damn Sir Galahad.