Hundreds Page 18

  He nodded, following my thoughts as clearly as he had when I’d refused to speak to him. “You understand.”

  I sucked in a breath.

  “You understand you are the one giving me this gift, no one else. I’m not taking; you’re giving.” He eased back in the chair, his large hands going to his thighs where they dug hard into his muscle. “You’re in charge of this night, Pim. You tell me what you want. It’s up to you to show me what you want me to see. Give me what you want. Ask me to give you what you want in return.”

  It was my turn to be mesmerised as he cupped the fierce erection in his black trousers.

  “This is what you’ve done to me. The pain I’m in. The need you’ve caused. It’s all because of you. But no matter how much I want you to put me out of my misery, I won’t force you. I’m not going to touch you until you give me permission.”

  My nipples hardened beneath my bra, turning to diamond the longer he looked at me and squeezed himself unforgivingly. He bit his lip as his hand turned white, touching himself not with pleasure but pain.

  Pain, I knew. Pain, I understood.

  I didn’t want that for him. I didn’t want that for me. I wanted something different. Something already building between us that was nameless but known all at the same time.

  My hands went behind my back to unclasp my bra. The thought of showing Elder another piece of me because I wanted to gave me a surge of tingling heat.

  He stiffened; his hand firm on his cock.

  My eyes darted to the hotel door, making sure it was locked—almost shocked to see a door. How many years had I lived where no privacy was offered? Nowhere to run or hide? And now, here I was, standing before a man who looked less and less human the longer we played this game, and I wasn’t afraid.

  I was empowered, emboldened, alive.

  His voice sounded that of a beast. “You can go if you wish. I won’t stop you.”

  I didn’t tell him I hadn't been looking for an escape but making sure we would remain undisturbed. That I trusted him more than I’d trusted anyone—even myself. That he’d proven to me, by remaining locked in his chair, that I could do whatever I wanted.

  I could undress for him.

  I could lay on the bed for him.

  I could touch myself, and he wouldn’t move.

  It would kill him. But he wouldn't move.

  And knowing all that made me tumble faster into whatever it was that existed between us.

  Locking eyes, I unhooked the bra strap, allowing it to unfold from my breasts and flutter to join the dress below. The air was warm around my nipples but not as warm as his mouth would be. I fantasied about him gathering me tight and sucking me. I imagined him touching me soft but firm, possessive but controlled.

  My tummy clenched, making me wetter than I’d ever been. My body had healed enough that I could stand in front of a man and adapt for sex, to actually entertain the idea that I could willingly engage and enjoy.

  Elder rubbed his mouth, placing both hands over his lips as if to silence any commands he might give.

  Stepping away from the fallen dress, I moved backward to the bed. My hips swayed, accented by the high heels. My stomach rose and fell with shallow breaths. My body twitched and tingled as parts of me became heavy while others became light as air. My peripheral vision abandoned me and I no longer saw hotel finery, fireplaces, or fabric…only him.

  He was at the end of my vocal point, slowly growing larger the more I focused. He became all I could see, acknowledge, and understand.

  Bending over, my hair tumbled over my shoulder as I reached to undo the tiny buckles on my high heels. Freeing my ankles, I kicked the heels away with tiny flicks, wincing a little as my tortured metatarsals realigned from bent to straight.

  Elder continued to watch, but he didn’t leave his chair to come closer.

  He wouldn’t.

  Not until I told him to.

  And for that, I would be forever grateful.

  In a way, he was the one wearing the ropes and chains tonight.

  Not me.

  With no shoes, no dress, no bra, only three pieces of clothing remained.

  My garter belt, stockings, and knickers.

  My hands shook as I reached for the garters, unclipping them before slowly rolling the sheer silk down my legs, feeling as if I’d shed another piece of me, removed another fear, deleted another past moment.

  My fingers went to my hips, hooking around the lace. The chair Elder sat on creaked as he shifted.

  Embarrassment flooded me.

  Not embarrassment at the thought of being naked—I’d embraced my nakedness long before lingerie could hide me. No, embarrassment for how much I needed him. How empty I was. How hungry. I’d never experienced such a visceral reaction before. And because of it, I worried Elder, no matter how handsome and perfect he might seem, might not fulfil the rapidly building itch.

  What if he’d cursed me to feel this depth of desire only to leave me forever unsatisfied? What if sex was no different to rape? What if my body couldn’t tell them apart? What if that promise of pleasure never came true?

  Stop…

  Believe. Trust. Relax.

  I swallowed back those fears before they could steal my remaining confidence. Sitting on the bed, I left my knickers on, making the decision for myself, not for him or anyone else. I held up my finger, bending it in a come-hither request.

  Instantly, Elder shot to his feet. One hand clenched into a tight fist, the other still on his steely erection. “You sure?”

  I licked my lips, fighting everything, embracing everything. “I’m sure.”

  He stalked me.

  Head down, eyes blazing, body braced. He crossed the space in a few leggy strides and then he was here. Only a foot away, both hands fisted, both legs locked, entire body on orders not to move.

  Not close enough.

  Swaying to my feet, I stood before him.

  He groaned as my hands landed on his blazer buttons. His eyes shot closed as I undid them, pushed aside his jacket, and inserted my fingers into the warmth of his shirt covered chest.

  I wanted to rub my face against him.

  I wanted to smell him, pet him, revel in him.

  But I didn’t know how far I could push when his face strained, and the sheer power of his self-control howled in the space.

  Instead, I grabbed his black tie, looped it around my fingers and tugged him forward.

  His eyes flared wide as he stumbled into me then followed me as I fell backward onto the bed. Never letting go of his tie, I shimmied higher up the mattress, pulling him with me.

  He let me.

  He obeyed me.

  I’d never had a man submit before.

  I grew drunk on it, powerful on it. I swallowed a star and glowed with it.

  Crawling over me on all fours, his back bowed thanks to my tight grip on his tie, his large hands looking like savage paws as he chased me into the middle of the massive bed.

  I lay down, relinquishing his tie.

  I had no idea what came next.

  He hovered over me, breathing heavy, lips full, eyes wild, temples tinged with sweat.

  We didn’t move.

  Nervousness siphoned through my blood. Being on my back with a man above me wasn’t new. It had always been utter hell. But now…just staring at Elder with no expectations or knowledge of what was to come, I was able to appreciate just how spectacular he truly was.

  How he trembled to keep me safe from him.

  How he rolled onto his back to give me space.

  Lying side by side, his fists dug into the bed. He closed his eyes; his forehead etched with restraint.

  “Fuck, this is harder than I thought.” Pressing a flat palm to his brow, he gave me a sideways glance. He didn’t speak again, and my ears strained for some instruction, some guidance on what two normal people would do when lying side by side in bed.

  Neither in pain.

  Neither in tears.

  Mutual
and wanted and safe.

  With a rumble in his chest, Elder shifted from lying on his back to resting on his side, propping his head up with his hand. “I’m going to touch you. I can’t not touch you.” His other hand whispered over the sheets and connected with my waist.

  I jerked away—not from fear but from the insane intensity his fingertips caused. How blood bloomed out like a rose on fire beneath my skin. How every womanly part of me tightened and coiled with pleasure.

  His hand flattened on my belly, his teeth imprinted in his lower lip as he slowly caressed up and up until he cupped my breast.

  My eyes snapped closed as memories tried to consume me. His heat, his weight—it all made me tremble until sweat misted my skin to match his. We’d barely touched, yet adrenaline and need burned through whatever control we had left.

  His fingers massaged me, rolling my nipple, petting me like I’d never been petted before. Instead of begging for it to be over, of disappearing into my mind where physical sensation couldn’t hurt me, I arched into his touch.

  The second I pressed more of my flesh into his hand, he snapped.

  His hips shot forward, pressing black trousers and shirt against my mostly naked form. His head fell downward, slamming soft, damp lips onto mine.

  I moaned as he kissed me.

  Hard.

  Fast.

  Deep.

  Wet.

  Whatever patience he had left was gone as the hardness of his erection seared my hip, and the teeth of his still-zipped fly scratched my thigh.

  I wriggled to get closer.

  He left his humanness behind and kissed me deeper. Bruises from my teeth indented my lips. My tongue fought his. Our tastes mingled with caramel and tequila.

  Never in my life had I been kissed so tenderly but so viciously.

  Never in my life had I willingly sought out the next stage—to have a body grow warm and wet, seeking more.

  “Goddammit, Pimlico.” He wedged himself closer, his hand dropping from my breast and to the lace protecting the final piece of me. Hooking his fingers into the waistband, he ripped them down my legs, contorting his body so his mouth continued to ravage mine while he stripped me.

  I bent and flexed, and when the knickers were low enough down my legs, I kicked them off without waiting for instruction.

  I kissed him back harder than before. I opened wider, licked deeper; I threw myself head first into new experiences, better existences, and a world I desperately wanted to be a part of.

  My fingers landed on his belt, fumbling to undo it, tugging at his shirt.

  He was still fully dressed.

  I wasn’t dressed at all.

  I was the one at mercy.

  But then again…I wasn’t.

  Having a black-clad seducer kiss me, all while shuddering with self-control didn’t make me vulnerable. Oh, no. It made me powerful. Brave. A queen being worshipped by a suitor she’d chosen, not a slave made to obey a wrathful master.

  Elder captured my wrists, slamming my hands above my head. Tearing his mouth from mine, his lips glistened as he panted. “No.”

  No?

  No to what?

  Touching him?

  Pleasuring him?

  Before I could ask, his free hand cupped between my legs. His full hand. His entire strong, elegant, cello-playing, wallet-stealing hand.

  I flinched in desire.

  I winced in fear.

  I shook so hard his eyes lost the feral glint and turned liquid with understanding. “It’s me, Pim. Just me.”

  Licking my lips, I nodded. Silence was once again my friend. I wouldn’t speak. I couldn’t. It took all my concentration to stay with him—to not fall down the rabbit hole.

  His fingers tightened around me, making me gasp and squirm. The heat of being held in such a way scorched me until my clit throbbed for something, anything.

  I wanted to run and hide.

  I wanted to beg and ride.

  I split in half with complications.

  “You’re not ready.” He pressed his forehead against mine. “I should stop this.”

  I shook my head, arching up to bring his mouth back to me.

  I kissed him.

  That was my answer. I might not be entirely free to enjoy this, but I wanted it regardless. I wanted to experience all the firsts he’d talked about. I wanted pleasure to replace my pain.

  Another tumbling groan fell from him into me as he wedged himself impossibly closer. The heel of his palm dug into my clit, sending rockets and missiles jettisoning through my belly.

  Then his hand moved downward.

  His fingers feathered over my pussy.

  His touch explored until they found my entrance.

  Everything froze.

  Me.

  Him.

  Time.

  Our lips never disengaged, but we didn’t move as he asked a silent question and earned a silent answer.

  Do you really want this?

  I-I think so…

  Another long second while he deliberated and checked the chains around his self-control.

  And then he touched me.

  Invaded me.

  Pressed one long, strong finger inside me with concession, possession, and pent-up aggression.

  Everything else faded.

  I hated it.

  I loathed it.

  I wanted it.

  I needed it.

  My body stretched to accommodate his invasion. His finger slim and firm.

  My mind turned dirty.

  Curse words. Swear words.

  All I saw was red and velvet and smoke.

  His finger kept going, claiming me from the inside out.

  Holy shit.

  I’d never been touched that way before. Fingers were used to check how dry I was or slap lube on places I never wanted to be violated.

  Elder touched me so reverently, I forgot about all that. I deleted the screams and tears and focused only on how odd and perfect and strange and splendid it was.

  My wrists grew hot beneath his finger-shackles. My breath grew shallow as he hooked his finger and rubbed some spot inside me that doubled the deliciousness I’d only just been introduced to.

  My eyes flew wide, wanting to imprint everything. I couldn’t look away from his teeth clamped on his bottom lip and the erotic sway of his hips into mine. His trousers kept him bound, but it didn’t stop his erection from branding me.

  There were too many stimuli.

  I didn’t know what to focus on. His body pressed entirely along mine, his leg flung over mine, his hand ordering me to feel, to clench, to open for more.

  His deep voice echoed in my ears. “Do you like it?”

  Like it?

  I didn’t know.

  I suffered every condition known to the human race. I was guilty, ashamed, afraid, awoken. I wanted him to stop, keep going, leave me alone, climb entirely inside me.

  I was a jumping castle with every spectrum of feeling bouncing around inside.

  He chuckled, sounding in pain. “You’ll grow to like it…I’ll show you. I’ll be the first to show you how it should be. I’ll be the first to feel you come.”

  I wanted to believe him, but my ugly past was a third bedfellow between us. My heart raced with scars and wounds, doing its best to shut down my body that had decided to trust him.

  My animalistic desires weren’t complicated. My body knew it was with a new partner and that partner would treat it well. But my mind…it had been conditioned too much to relax—to not tense for the first blow, first hit, first blood.

  For me to be able to come? To become so wrapped up in Elder that I was able to shatter like I’d read about?

  I didn’t think I could.

  I doubted anyone could make me, no matter how much I wanted them to.

  He angled his wrist, dipping deeper inside me. A second finger joined the first. The pressure was greater, the stretching wider. He filled me so differently to what had been used on me before.
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br />   Memories of unwanted objects and loathsome abuse played centrefold in my mind. I turned rigid as Elder’s breath heated my hairline where he pressed a lingering kiss. “Stay with me. Don’t leave.”

  I sucked in a breath and forced my body to relax, for my mind to focus on Elder and only Elder, for the hotel room and soft silky sheets to remind me I would never be tortured again. That this was me claiming myself back. That this was imperative for my future healing.

  Elder moved his fingers inside me, stroking, thrusting—slowly at first. Slow and deep and long.

  I wasn’t prepared for how quickly my body forgot pain and reached with eager arms for what he promised. My eyes shot wide as his thumb found my clit, pressing in all the right ways.

  I gasped, my hands opening and closing still pinned to the mattress above my head.

  “Jesus Christ, you feel good.” His fingers drove firmly, deeply. “You need to come, Pim. I need this to feel good for you because I won’t fucking last much longer.”

  He was so different to everyone I’d had to suffer through. He expected things for himself, but when it came to me, he was beyond generous.

  I opened my mouth to apologise—to warn him that I might not be able to come, no matter how good this initial part felt. But he shook his head and thrust his fingers higher.

  I moaned, thrashing my head to the side as a wave of bliss crested over me.

  “Would it be better if you closed your eyes?” he murmured. “Focus only on what I’m doing to you.”

  They remained resolutely open. I didn’t want to shut him out—not when I didn’t trust myself not to run.

  My heart slapped worried hands over its mouth. Would he punish me if I didn’t come? Would he take it personally if I failed?

  New fear at disappointing him rose.

  “Pim, relax.” He stroked firmly. “Close your eyes. Trust me.”

  I already knew what would happen, but for him, I closed my eyes.

  The moment I obeyed all I saw was Alrik and my white prison cell and classical music and chains and ropes and pain. I was back there. I was bleeding again, screaming again, wishing for death again.

  I was in pieces.

  I was in broken torn little pieces.

  Stop.

  Stop.

  Stop!

  “Pim. Pim!” Elder released my wrists, grabbing my chin to jerk my face to his. “Pim, open your eyes. Right now.”