Chapter 28 #2
“What did he do?” I use my Dom voice, the voice that never fails to send a play partner to their knees to obey me.
I descend the stairs, stopping a few feet away from her.
She puts her foot down, but she doesn’t move.
Her eyes flutter shut, and her cheeks flush with a delicious red colour that makes me wonder if she’s remembering that day in the alley in London.
She opens her eyes and stares pointedly at her Docs.
But then her cheeks flush even more, and I smile because I know she’s just seen my cock.
It is rather impressive.
Mina snaps her head up and focuses on a spot on the wall behind my earlobe. “I… we had a disagreement.”
“A disagreement? You didn’t want his tongue down your throat?” I step closer. The air between us sizzles. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
“How did you know?”
“I didn’t. I guessed, and you confirmed my supposition.”
Again, not strictly true, but even if Heathcliff hadn’t told me, I’d have guessed.
Her eyes flick back to me, and she tries to focus on my face, but her gaze flicks downwards. She bites her lip. “You should put some clothes on. The door’s unlocked. A customer could come in any minute.”
“Why? You don’t want me to put clothes on.”
Her whole face is red now. “I do.”
“Give me some credit. The flush in your cheeks, the quickening of your breath, the subtle change in your scent as your pheromones kick in… It’s a simple deduction.
” I step closer. Now we’re inches apart.
I’m not touching her, but it feels like I am.
Every inch of my skin is aware of her. All either of us has to do is fall forward and we’d be locked together, the magnetic pull of our attraction drawing us in.
Mina’s lip trembles. But not with fear. At least, not entirely with fear.
“What… are you going to do?” she whispers.
“Nothing,” I say, because I know exactly what she needs – to be in control, to decide she wants this, wants us, “until you make your own move. I won’t touch you until you beg for it, Mina. But I promise, you will beg for me.”
She lets out a little laugh that isn’t a laugh at all. “This is ridiculous. I barely know you, and everything I do know tells me I should run away.”
“You do like running from your problems, don’t you?” I chuckle. Her eyes flutter shut again, and she bites her lips as her body jerks forward, an inch, closer but still not quite. Her nipples are hard against my chest. My lips tingle with the desire to roll them on my tongue.
“It’s complicated.”
She’s thinking about Heathcliff.
“Not from where I’m standing,” I whisper. “All it takes is for you to make the move, and things will become exquisitely simple.”
Her villain’s journey is written all over her face – she’s torn between loyalty to Heathcliff, wanting to fix things with him, and me, here, now, and it’s so deliciously evil and devious that my cock positively springs at her.
And she’s trying very hard not to look down, but…
She looks down.
She swallows.
“I’m scared,” she whispers.
“You weren’t scared the other day, in the alley.”
“That was different. Before…”
“Before Heathcliff kissed you and then ran away with his tail between his legs?”
She nods.
“Sweet Mina, he only ran away because he’s scared like you. But the only people here now are you and me. Do I look like I’m afraid you’ll bite? I hope you bite.”
Mmmm, yes please.
Her lashes tangle together, and the wide, dark centres of her eyes are remembering the alley and how good I can make her feel.
“I want you,” she whispers.
“Louder. I’m a bit hard of hearing.”
“I want you.”
“To do what?”
She screws her eyes shut. She’s never had to do this before. Never had to demand what she wants. “To kiss me.”
“And?”
“And… maybe some other stuff.”
“You want to be specific, or should I just use my imagination?”
“Mmmmhmm.”
“Good.”
I pounce. Although it’s not so much of a pounce as it is rocking forward on my feet and curling my body around her, pressing myself against her curves, running my hands over her body as she melts into me.
“Because I’ve been imagining you naked and under my power ever since you first walked up to the shop.”
I claim her lips.
She tastes sweet, so achingly sweet that I almost pull away. That kind of sweetness is not for me. But instead, I surge forward, deepening the kiss, going so deep that I taste beyond the sweetness – that dark, hidden layer of her. The part of her that longs to succumb to me.
That is the fire I stoke inside her, slaking my tongue over hers, nibbling her lip, tangling my fingers in her hair, making her forget everything except my name on her lips.
I pin her arms to her sides and back her against the nearest bookshelf.
Her eyes stare up at me, wide and nervous and wanting.
Everything about this woman drives me to the edge of control.
It takes everything not to fall upon her like a fiend.
But I want this to be about her. I want her to learn the power that she has.
I want her to beg for what she wants and then, for once in her life, to have every wish and desire come true.
I break our kiss for a moment to reach out and slide the bolt across the front door. Then I return, her lips calling me back, and I curl my fingers around her neck, kissing her until we’re both breathless.
“It appears we have reached the Poetry shelf,” I murmur as I play with her hard nipples through the thick fabric of her sweater. I shrug off my jacket and yank her sweater over her head. I spy a volume of Donne’s poetry on the shelf behind her head, and I pull it out.
“This shall do nicely.” I flick through the pages while she watches me, panting, her eyes flecked with unease.
She thinks I’m reading instead of tending to her.
Oh, sweet Mina.
I find the page I want. ‘To His Mistress Going to Bed.’ I know the poem by heart, but I want the book, the show of it. Plus, she has me so turned about that I might forget the words, and I don’t yet want her to know quite how turned-about she has me.
I slide my hand behind her and unclip her bra. As it falls away, I pinch her nipple, rolling it between my fingers as I speak:
“Full nakedness! All joys are due to thee,
As souls unbodied, bodies uncloth’d must be…”
As I speak the lines, I slide my hand under her waistband and swipe a finger against her clit.
That little bud is already swollen for me, and I roll my finger in her juices before stroking it again.
It only takes a couple of strokes before she comes apart in my arms, her eyes fluttering shut as her limbs jerk and her body shudders against mine.
Yes.
This is all I want, forever and ever. Mina Wilde at my mercy.
I hold her until she sags against me. She makes a move to get up, but I pull her back against me. “I’m not even close to being done with you yet, gorgeous,” I murmur against her lips.
She gives no protest as I slide her jeans and panties over her thighs and toss them across the rug.
I kneel between her legs, loving this view of her, laid out before me like a feast, her petals (yes, sorry, I am an old-fashioned sort of fellow) glistening wet with arousal.
I brush a finger over them, parting them gently as she moans her little needy moans. I cannot wait to taste her.
“You are thus arrayed,” I grin, reciting my favourite line by heart. “License my roving hands, and let them go, Before, behind, between, above, below.”
“Please,” she begs.
My favourite word.
I flip to the next page, but as I continue the poem, I bend between her legs, pressing my lips over her clit as I speak.
I slide a finger into her, so warm and wet and perfect, and thrust in time with the poem’s rhythm.
Whoever said poetry is boring hasn’t been to the James Moriarty school of literature.
She gasps and writhes, her thighs clamping over my head as she fights against her release.
“Oh, oh, fuck… Morrie…” she cries out, barely able to say words. I don’t stop. I have many verses of erotic hunger still to recite.
But she can’t wait, greedy little thing. She clenches, her clit swelling, hardening, as her thighs clamp and she cries through her release. “Oh, whoa… Morrie… please… Morrie…” and it’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.
I lap at her juices, relishing the taste of her, and then gather her in my arms. “I told you that I’d make you beg for me.”
She leans up and kisses me, and it’s a surprisingly sweet kiss after we’ve been so dirty. I cradle her body to mine, and without breaking our kiss, I carry her across the room.
“Where do you want it?” I whisper against her lips. “Up against the shelves? On Heathcliff’s desk? We could be really wicked and shag in the Religion section.”
“What about the room upstairs?” Mina murmurs, wrapping her arms around my neck. “The one with the four-poster bed and the fancy bathroom?”
What?
What did she just say?
I pull back, searching her face for a sign that she’s kidding, that she’s referring to my room.
But no, I don’t have a four-poster bed, and the bathroom I share with the other two could be described as many things (crime scene, toxic waste spill) but not ‘fancy.’ She can only be talking about the time-travel room.
“You went in there?”
She shrugs. “Yes, when I was looking for Quoth. Is that bad?”
“It could be.” I kiss her again, my mind whirring. We don’t unlock it. Ever. How did she get in? It’s a question for another time, when she’s not naked and at my mercy, my most favourite place for a lover to be. “That is fine. I like bad girls. But we’re not doing it in there.”
“Why—”
She yelps as I flip her and lay her down on the rug.
I run my hands along the curve of her arse, nearly as I imagine how tight and warm it would be to bury myself inside it.
But not for our first time. I have no doubt there will be many more times such as this.
I pull her up so that she’s kneeling, and she grips the balustrade as I slide between her thighs.
I pull a condom from my secret pocket (a criminal mastermind can never have too many secret pockets) and roll it on.
The head of my cock bobs eagerly, aching to be inside her.
Mina’s head rolls back as I press into her. She feels amazing, so warm and tight around me. Her mouth hangs open, and I know the size of me is a shock. It is to most people, but I know exactly how to work her so she can take all of me.
“That’s it,” I nibble her earlobe as I give her another slow inch, waiting until she relaxes and stretches around me before I push in a little deeper. “You can take me, Mina. You can take all of me.”
She gasps and makes a hot little mewling sound.
And she feels so good that I keep thinking this must be it, this must be all she can take.
But no, inch by glorious inch, she lets me in, until I’m buried fully inside her.
And I bite my lip so the pain will take the edge off because I am so close to losing it right now, just from the sensation of being so deep inside her.
With a deep breath, I draw myself out of her, and slowly, slowly, slide inside again. I grip her tiny body as she braces herself against the stairs, and my hips hit hers and I’m there, I’m right there, and this feels amazing.
Out again. In again. Slow and languid and hot. Oh, so hot.
She peeks over her shoulder at me, her lips parted, her hair a wild tangle around her face. And oh, how I want to unleash myself upon her, how I want to show her what true wildness means.
Her eyes widen, the black parts blown so large that the colour has disappeared.
“Morrie,” she whispers. “Enough of this softness. I want you to fuck me.”
I lay a last, soft kiss against the top of her shoulder. “Gorgeous, I thought you’d never ask.”
This time, when I draw back, it’s fast, and I slam into her, jerking her body against the stairs.
She cries, and the cry is pleasure and pain both, and I am so relieved, so fucking relieved, because pleasure and pain are my whole thing, and I need her to understand, I need her to want the things I can do to her, the way I can make her feel.
So again and again I drive myself deep, so fucking deep, burning my knees on the rug, loving the sweaty slap of our bodies coming together.
I wrap my fingers in her hair, pulling it into a fist, drawing her head back to kiss and bite her long neck.
And my little Mina, my gorgeous, she doesn’t just take me, she bucks her hips, driving me deeper, begging for more.
“I wanted to do this since I first saw you walk into the shop,” I murmur against her earlobe as I slide my hands between her legs.
I brush my fingers lightly over her, and that’s all it takes to tip her over the edge again.
Her body clamps around me. My teeth drag over her skin, and my body bucks as my own orgasm hits me.
My long body curls around Mina’s, collapsing against her, skin against sweaty skin.
What have I done?
“I’ll never be able to read Donne the same way again,” a soft, dark voice growls.
At first, I think it’s Heathcliff, because he’s the only one around here who growls.
But from the corner of my eye as I ride the wave of my release, I see him on the stairs.
Birdie. And he wears an expression of such exquisite, tortured pleasure that if I hadn’t just come harder than I had in my life, I’d have invited him to join us for another round.
I guess Mina knows about our idea to share her now.