Chapter 37 #2
“All right,” I tell Slayer. “The answer is yes.”
He reaches out, gently, slowly. His fingertips brush along my jaw, then down my throat. I tremble, not with nerves, but with anticipation.
He leans in, pausing so close that I feel the warmth of his breath on my lower lip.
And then, finally, he kisses me.
Not polite. Not ravenous. Just slowly. Like he’s building something. Binding us with each brush of our mouths.
When he draws back, I can barely breathe. “I don’t want to scare you.”
“You’re not scaring me,” I whisper, throat tight.
He strokes my cheek with his fingers. “Be careful what parts of me you wake up, Bix.”
He turns back to the book and opens to the picture of a girl sitting naked on a chair. Her legs are splayed open, bound by ropes, and her glistening, clean-shaven pussy is open for all to see.
Though a blindfold covers her eyes, she looks like she’s enjoying the restraint.
“Does that turn you on?” Slayer asks.
“Yes.”
“Do you want a hands-on introduction?”
“Sure.”
“Did you pack lingerie?”
The question is so odd, it takes me a moment to answer. “Yes,” I eventually mange. Antoine insisted on it during our shopping trip—a dozen sets of bras, panties, and even garter belts and stockings.
“Put it on.”
“But what does that have to do with Shibari?”
“You’ll find out.”
I do as I’m told. When I return, I realize he must’ve lit more incense, because the air feels heavier now—saturated, smoky, still.
“You’re gorgeous,” he says, eyeing my high heels and silky white lingerie edged in lace. “Look at yourself,” he adds, nodding toward the mirrored wall across from us.
When I turn toward my image, I have to admit, I look good—like some diminutive Las Vegas showgirl.
High heels lengthen my legs and kick my ass up a notch. The demi-cup of my bra makes my breasts look larger.
“Come here.”
I go to his side, and Slayer unbuttons his robe and exposes his cock.
I inhale sharply. Slayer is a big man, so I figured he’d be generously sized everywhere. Yet he’s enormous. This is one thing the tabloids have right.
“Put your hand on me.”
As I kneel to touch him, he seems to grow tenfold under my hand.
“Kiss me.”
A slow thrill curls in my belly as I lower myself. I lick the head of his cock like a thirsty kitten.
“Oh, that feels so good,” the Dark Prince says.
His compliment sends heat rushing through me. I want to please him. So I lick and suck the head of his cock, still warm, still fragrant from the spa oil, pulsing in my mouth.
Finally, he lifts me to my feet. “Go stand in the corner.”
I move to where the sun streams in through the skylight.
“You’re bathed in light,” he says. “I wish you could see yourself.”
“Take a picture,” I say. “I’ll imagine myself a centerfold—guys eager to jerk off to me.”
A startled expression crosses Slayer’s face. “What a saucy mouth.”
“Yeah, well, you bring that out in me, Slayer. Shall we get started?”
“One moment.”
He crosses to a drawer near the bed and removes something.
A condom? A tingle of anticipation ripples through me.
But when he comes closer, I see that it’s a small pair of scissors—delicate, weathered, from another century.
Every nerve in my body tenses. What the hell is he going to do with those? “Slayer, what are you—”
He cuts me off with a look. Dark. Sharp. Final. “No questions.”
Then he shrugs off his robe. His cock is longer, thicker, and harder than before—if that’s even possible.
Oh God. Can all of that fit inside me? Talk about baseball bats.
“Stand still,” he says, kneeling beside me.
He breathes deeply, then guides the scissors to where my satin panties meet my hips. Snip. Then again, at the other side.
The fabric flutters to the floor, forming a small, expensive pile at my feet. And exposing my waxed pussy. Slick. Glimmering.
His cock pulses. His tongue finds me. Flicks. Tastes. Nips.
The ultra-high heels holding me upright aren’t enough. I tremble like a San Francisco high-rise during a quake. “Oh my God.”
The teasing stroke of his tongue sends shocks—dangerous, electric—firing through my body.
I nearly fall. But he catches me and places me face down on the bed, my pussy exposed to the cool air, framed by garter straps and silk stockings. I worry absently about whether the seams in the back are still aligned.
He scoots down and continues his fine work with his tongue, tracing a tingling line from between the cheeks of my ass to just near the folds of my pussy.
I’m panting for release as he moves his finger in slow, teasing circles around my puckered hole.
Oh my God.
Then he climbs on top of me, his throbbing cock pressing against my entrance from above.
And then he’s gone, rising off the bed.
I tense in anticipation of what he’s bringing…
I hear him place something on the nightstand. Then I feel something soft and silky dancing across my back.
“What is it?”
“A silk scarf.”
“What are you going to do with it?” I ask, turning to look at him.
“If you like...” Slayer’s voice drifts off and he looks away, shaking his head. “Forget it.”
“Tell me!”
He takes a deep breath. “I’d like to tie one of your hands to the bedpost.”
“Okay,” I breathe, feeling a surge of excitement along with my nerves.
Slayer is nearly three times my size. How could I break free if something dark within him suddenly emerges? If he takes advantage of my bondage?
I tell myself the scarf is silk, not metal.
“If you’d like, I could tie the other one as well,” he says.
Despite my racing mind, I hear my voice say, “Sure.”
I wait patiently as Slayer ties my hands—very, very loosely—to the bedpost.
The mirror captures us: Slayer with his black hair slicked back from his gorgeous face, his silver earring gleaming—the dark devil. And golden-haired me, the virginal sacrifice in white.
His eyes close as he grasps his cock in one hand and strokes himself. With the other, he caresses my sensitive core, though not quite where I need him.
I want his touch more directly—these feather-light teases are driving me wild—and I buck my hips for more.
He’s breathing deeply now. He falls upon me, biting into my neck like a vampire while pressing his cock against my tightest hole.
I tense. The sensations are pleasurable, but I’m not ready for anal sex. Not today, and maybe not ever.
And I still haven’t seen that condom.
He grasps himself more aggressively now and jerks rapidly. His breathing turns ragged. Finally he shouts my name and I feel a waterfall of hot liquid all over my thighs.
I’m left on edge, trembling, my body close to its own peak.
Slayer reaches to the side table and brings a warm, rose-scented, moist towel to clean me. Then he finishes what he started.
Twisting alongside me, he uses his fingers and tongue to carry me into a toe-curling orgasm—one that roars up, slow and deliciously devastating, before it finally crashes through me like the perfect storm.
“That was incredible,” I whisper, dazed as he releases the scarves and swoops his strong, muscular arm around me. He snuggles me against his firm abs under the covers.
The afternoon sun warms us from its position outside the window. And for a brief, perfect moment, I close my eyes and dream.