Page 13

Chapter Thirteen

Cleopatra

"You know what I want to do with you in here, don't you?" The hunger in his eyes makes my stomach flip-flop. I shake my head, not trusting my voice to speak.

A wicked smile plays on his lips as he walks around me, circling like a predator. "I want to see you squirm," he murmurs, leaning in to whisper. "I want to see you blush. I want to see you beg."

Before I can react, his hand comes down on my backside with a sharp smack, the sound reverberating through the room. I gasp, more from surprise than pain, my eyes wide as I glance back at him.

"Did you just...spank me?" I stammer, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I’ve followed all your rules.”

His grin widens, unapologetic and full of sin. "I warned you. I want to see you wiggle, Cutie. In here, an ass that gorgeous—it'll get you into all sorts of trouble. "

I rub the spot where his hand struck. "And what if I like trouble?" I counter, lifting my chin defiantly.

His eyes flash with amusement and desire. "Then you're in the right place," he says, stepping closer until our bodies are mere inches apart. I can feel his breath on my skin, the heat radiating off him. He reaches up, tracing a fingertip along my jawline, neck, and collarbone. "So, tell me, Cutie," he murmurs, his finger pausing at the base of my throat. My pulse flutters like a trapped butterfly. "What's your safe word?"

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "My… My what?"

His smile is slow and patient, and his finger resumes its lazy trail, tracing over the curve of my breast and luring my nipples to harden. "Your safe word. Something you'll say if you want everything to stop, no questions asked."

“Am I going to need one of those?” I squeak out.

“Yes.” I look into his eyes, dark and intense in the dim light. This is real. This is happening.

I take a deep breath, my mind racing for a safe word. Too many late nights watching Real Housewives with Seraphina and their non-scientific theory that a particular fruit makes your vagina sweet. "Pineapple," I blurt out, the word ridiculous and awkward in the charged silence.

He raises an eyebrow, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Pineapple it is," he agrees. "Now, let's see what kind of trouble you're looking for."

He takes his time, fingering the hem of my sweatshirt, lifting it over my arms as they reach up obediently to let him. He drags his hands over my bare waist, naked under the cropped tee I had earlier chosen. I stand there, my breaths coming in short gasps, my body frozen yet alive with anticipation.

He removes the cropped tee, revealing the soft cotton bra and the curve of my breasts. His eyes never leave mine, not even as he pushes the bra straps over my shoulders. He leans down, his warm lips kissing my bare shoulder and neck.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his hands at my waist, thumbs tracing circles on my bare skin. "But I think we can do better.” Guiding me by my waist, he turns me so I’m facing away from him. His hands rise to the clasp of my bra, unhooking it with practiced ease.

The bra falls away, the cool air tantalizing my hard nipples. His hands immediately replace the fabric, cupping my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples until they're even more taut and sensitive. I lean back into him, my body instinctively seeking more contact.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice a low rumble in my ear. "Give in to it, Cutie. Let me see what you've got."

His hands move lower, tracing the curve of my waist and the flare of my hips. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of my leggings, tugging them down slowly, revealing more and more skin. I step out of them, kicking them aside, left standing there, naked.

The dim light, the sexy room, the cool air, his warm skin, me bare to him, him still fully dressed, it’s overwhelming. He turns me back around, and with his hands gently holding my arms, his eyes roving over my body and taking in every detail. I fight the urge to cover myself and hide from his intense gaze, but I also crave his approval.

I want to experience that special feeling when he looks at me. It's not about being the most beautiful girl in the world—I know that’s not me—but he gazes at me like I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

It feels wonderful.

Self-doubt threatens to creep in and ruin this magical moment, and before I can stop myself, I’m standing here naked, asking him, “Do you really think I’m beautiful?” Then I attempt to lighten my tone, saying, “Or do you say that to all the girls?”

He looks down at me with dark brows knitted together. “But you are beautiful. Don’t you know that?”

“It’s just…hard. When you get cheated on, it takes a toll on your self-esteem.”

His jaw tightens for a moment. “And for that, I wish you had let me kill him.”

He’s so serious, I give a nervous giggle. I think he would like to do away with Keith for the pain he caused me. “It’s not that bad.”

“I wish you knew,” he says, pulling me close.

My response is barely a whisper as his face reaches mine. “What?”

“How stunning you are.” One hand brushes the back of my arm, sending tingling sensations, while the other reaches up to cup my cheek. “You have your own special kind of beauty. When you walk into a room, I can’t look away. ”

His words leave me speechless. I stand there, stunned. He means every word. This is my moment. This is where I tell him that while we can have all the sexy fun we want, enjoy the feel of one another’s admiration, and warm body, this thing between us has an expiration date.

But the words don’t come.

"You're trembling.” He gently kisses my lips before pulling back to meet my eye. "Don't be nervous. Not with me."

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "I'm not nervous," I lie. "Just...well…nervous-excited."

A slow smile spreads across his face as he releases me, trailing his fingers down my sides, leaving me even more trembly. "Good," he says. "Because I have big mafia lair type plans for you."

He steps back, his eyes never leaving mine as he begins to undress. His shirt comes off first, revealing the hard planes of his chest and the defined muscles of his abdomen. I can't help but stare, my breath hitching as he unbuttons his jeans, the tease of his skin beneath making my heart pound.

He pushes them down, stepping out of them with an effortless grace, now standing before me in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, every inch of him chiseled and perfect. I stand there in awe. How can a man this beautiful think I’m attractive, too?

I don’t know how, but he does.

He steps closer, his body radiating heat as he reaches up, cupping my face. His lips find mine in a searing kiss, his tongue sweeping in to claim me. He breaks the kiss, his breath ragged as he whispers against my lips, "Trust me?" I nod, my heart pounding wildly.

I follow him to the corner of the room, where the peculiar device hangs from the ceiling. Its leather straps sway gently as we approach it. I stand beneath the apparatus, acutely aware of the exhilarating weight of his focused gaze on me, observing my na?ve innocence.

A small vanilla bean poised to be enjoyed by a man who has savored every kind of chocolate available.

His hands, unexpectedly gentle, lift me in the air. I settle my bottom into the swing, the leather soft against my skin. Gently, he maneuvers me into place with precision, deftly adjusting the leather straps that cradle my form. "Trust me," he murmurs, repeating his mantra for the moment, his breath warm against my neck, as he aligns my body with the suspended harness.

He grasps my wrists with a firm yet calming touch, securing them into the plush cuffs that dangle above my head. I wrap my fingers around the leather strap above the cuffs. The cupping of the harness is firm and reassuring.

I don’t feel I’ll fall, even as I sway in the air. What I feel is very exposed. Breathless, I am engulfed by the intoxicating blend of thrill and the hint of what’s to come.

His hands slide down my arms, over my shoulders, and down to my waist, his touch firm and possessive. "You look incredible," he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. I can feel him, hard and ready against my backside. His fingers trail lower, tracing the curve of my hips, the line of my thighs. I gasp as he slips a finger inside my vagina already slick and eager. He groans softly, his finger moving in and out with a deliberate slowness that makes me squirm.

"So responsive," he murmurs, his other hand cupping my breast, teasing the nipple until it's stiff and aching. "I love how your body reacts to me."

He adds another finger, his pace increasing as he builds a rhythm that has me panting and writhing in the harness. His thumb finds my clit, circling it with the perfect amount of pressure. I can feel the tension building, my body coiling tighter and tighter with each stroke.

"That's it, Cutie," he encourages, his voice a low growl in my ear. "Come for me. Let me feel you."

His words send me over the edge, my body convulsing around his fingers as waves of pleasure crash over me. Gripping the straps, the cuffs around my wrists, I cry out, my head falling back against his shoulder, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

He holds me there, his fingers still moving gently inside me, drawing out every last shudder of ecstasy. His lips press against my neck, soft and tender, a stark contrast to the intense orgasm that just tore through me.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his voice warm with approval. "Absolutely beautiful."

As I come down from the high, my body relaxing in the harness, he slowly withdraws his fingers. He brings them to his lips, tasting me with a look of pure satisfaction. I watch him as he bends down, spreading my legs in the harness where they hang in the air .

And his mouth, hot and wet, is suddenly between my needy thighs.

“Oh shit!” The bad word slips from me, and I don’t even care.

My fingernails dig into the leather straps, my head lolls back, and my eyes close as I cry out. His tongue is lashing my already swollen, sensitive clit, bringing another intense orgasm to the forefront. The leather straps tighten under my thighs as he pushes my legs further apart, greedily eating me as I convulse, the word Pineapple dancing in my mind.

I shudder through the next climax. “I can’t take any more!” He laughs against me, giving me a final lapping lick.

He emerges, and cool air caresses the place he was kissing. He moves between my wide-open legs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. I rest there, a lump of Jello in the swing as he leans in to kiss me. “See how good you taste,” he says, forcing me to taste myself as his tongue parts my lips.

As he kisses me, his fingers travel back between my parted thighs. He thrusts two fingers inside me, forcing a gasp from me. He captures the sound in his kiss, his lips pressing against mine with control and pressure as his fingers leave me, trailing over the tender skin of my perineum.

Where is he going? His dominating kisses keep me quiet. He answers my unasked question by circling the tight muscles of my bottom.

He murmurs softly when he breaks our kiss, “I’ll take you here one day. Every inch of your beautiful body will belong to me.”

A bewildering swirl of sensations stirs. It's not entirely unpleasant, like last night, strange, yet good. Gently, he slides a finger—slick with my arousal—into me. My body instinctively resists, muscles tensing against the intrusion, but he perseveres, pushing the finger to the first knuckle this time.

I find myself suspended in a haze, utterly without control, as he explores my body. Sitting up like this, the feeling is more intense than last night. He’s pushing his finger in way deeper than before, too. A warmth blooms within me from hidden pleasure points I never realized could be awakened. I’m torn; one part of me wants to retreat, while another yearns for him to continue.

Is he going to have sex with me—there—one day? I steal a glance at his impressive size. How could it even be possible? My thoughts are abruptly interrupted as his finger leaves my body, and despite myself, an involuntary whimper escapes my lips.

“Wait here like a good girl, and be patient.” He leaves me cold and alone and totally turned on and brimming with desire. He goes to a small sink in the corner of his room to wash his hands.

The sound of running water fills me with shame, thinking of the reason for his washing, where his fingers have been, and how he promised me his cock will be there, soon. There’s no time to dwell on his naughty promise, as now he’s back and unhooking the harness. My arms fall, and he catches them, rubbing my wrists gently to restore circulation. His eyes never leave mine, assessing my reaction and ensuring I'm alright .

I give him a small smile, my body still tingling with the remnants of pleasure.

"Ready for more?" His voice is a low rumble of carnal promises.

He guides me, my knees weak, towards the large, padded bench. He has me bend over, my naked body on display for him. He walks over to the wall, taking his time to build anticipation. He runs his fingers along a row of implements, each one designed for sensual punishment.He smiles, a wicked curve of his lips that sends a thrill straight through me.

I watch over my shoulder, my breath quickening as he runs his fingers along the row of implements. The anticipation is intoxicating, every nerve ending in my body alive, not knowing what he will choose, what he will do with the implement, or how it will feel.

His pace is slow, deliberate, as if savoring each moment of suspense before he finally commits.

I can hardly stand the wait, each second stretching out like an eternity. What will he choose? Will it hurt? How much will it hurt? Will I enjoy this, or blurt pineapple out in shame?

His hand comes to a resting place, and my tummy flip-flops. I see the gleam of black leather as he lifts it from its place. It's a belt with no buckle, a long line of leather. He approaches, the belt hanging loosely from his hand.

"Remember your safe word, Cutie," he reminds me with a growl.

Oh, gawd.