Firebird (10 page)

He looked over at her, exhausted beside him. Yes, a few teeth marks at the base of her neck, but no blood. There might be a light bruise. He usually had better control. He leaned down and traced the marked skin with the tip of his tongue. Her eyes fluttered, then closed again. Her frantic struggling of the moment before seemed to have given way to catatonia. He ran a light hand up her smooth black stockings.

“Okay?”

Her eyes opened and fixed on him. They were wet, intense.

“I… Wow… That was…”

“I know.” He shifted to discard the condom, then turned back and began to stroke her with a light, feathery touch. He stroked over silk thighs, feminine hips, over her flat tummy that still rose and fell in long, irregular breaths. He considered whether or not to untie her. He would be hard again in five minutes, but Prosper looked spent. In fact, she appeared to be falling asleep.

“Hey.” He pinched her cheek and leaned over to kiss her, thrusting his tongue deep inside her mouth, enjoying her sweet, sleepy reactions. “Wake up, girl. I need you again.”

“No. Too tired.”

“I think it wouldn’t be very difficult for me to turn that no to a yes.” He tweaked a nipple and laughed at its immediate response. “Not with you, anyway.”

Her eyes opened again. She smiled, a tired smile, and laughed. A giddy laugh. They laughed together, then sobered.

“That was just…wow,” she said. “I don’t really have the words.”

“I know. It was nice. You seemed to really enjoy it. I certainly did.” He drank in her satisfied smile and then fingered the ropes around her slender wrists.
His.

When he let her go, when he untied her and ushered her out of his apartment, she wouldn’t be his anymore. Well, it had to be that way. But she would be his for a while, until he had to leave New York. They’d talk about that later.

For now, before he released her, he needed her again.

Chapter Eight

Prosper was supposed to be packing, but it was difficult to concentrate, especially with Glenna chattering in her ear.

“Tell me more about this date last night! It must have been something.”

Prosper smiled. “It was great. He’s really incredible.”

“So who is this guy? Why don’t you bring him along next time we all meet up for dinner?”

“I don’t know. It’s not really going anywhere.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s um…mostly physical.”

“Mmm,” said Glenna with a smirk. “It’s like that, is it? Just using him? Hooking up? I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Prosper didn’t think she had it in her either, but she’d actually set up a schedule to see Jackson on a regular basis for sex. Not just sex but all the other thrilling things. The
yes, Sirs
and
no, Sirs
, the rules and requirements. The punishments. It was all sex to her. She felt it all in the same hot, wet place.

Jackson had tied her to his bed and turned her entire world upside down. By the time he’d untied her, he’d had to pretty much dress her spent body and carry her downstairs to the cab he’d called. She would have given her entire fortune—which was not very much, admittedly—just to be allowed to sleep beside him all night, but no. Before he closed the door to the cab, he’d kissed her and said in her ear, “Friday. Same time. And absolutely no touching what’s mine.”

It had been easy last night, not touching, as she’d fallen, half-asleep already, into bed. But she woke up with quite the arousing collection of memories. She’d barely functioned all day. She’d flubbed and tripped so badly through rehearsals that Blake had snapped at her to concentrate. Jackson, however, was uncharacteristically soft on her, accepting her errors with a secret smirk on his face. Now she needed to pull herself together enough to pack up her things to move into her new apartment tomorrow, a tiny sublet a couple of blocks away.

“I’m so sorry you have to go,” said Glenna, tucking some shoes and scarves into the box she packed. “I hope your new apartment works out.”

“I don’t know. It’s not exactly a showplace, but it’ll do. Still, I can’t believe I took a second job to afford an apartment that’s barely large enough to Hula-hoop in.”

Glenna laughed. “Do you Hula-hoop often? But I know what you’re saying. Sometimes I think it would be better to pack up and just move home.”

“Yeah, I think that too sometimes. But I don’t even have that option, not really.” Prosper wasn’t on good terms with her mother or stepfather, and they were really the only family she had. Her mother’s family, of course, didn’t even acknowledge that she existed. Her stepfather’s family, while not under religious obligation to shun her, still felt pretty much the same.

She avoided Glenna’s questioning gaze, turning away to search for the packing tape. The new apartment was a third-floor walk-up. She dreaded the idea of lugging her boxes up all those stairs even though she didn’t have much. She considered calling Jackson, asking for help. But no, that was something you did when someone was your boyfriend, wasn’t it? Or your friend? As much as she hated to admit it to herself, Jackson was neither. He was something very provocative, but a friend…no.

* * *

Friday night she arrived at Jackson’s place still sore and achy. She’d been stiff in rehearsals, but she’d explained the reason why, and he had gone easy on her, concentrating on the dancing princesses and their synchronization issues. Somehow she doubted he’d be as easygoing on her now. In fact, he led her straight to the bedroom.

“Undress and kneel,” he ordered, pointing to a spot in the middle of the floor. “Take off everything. I want you naked as the day you were born.”

She undressed and placed her clothes in a neat pile next to the door, then dropped to her knees where he’d pointed and sat back on her heels. She didn’t know what was worse, the unaccustomed ache in her thighs or the nakedness. Not that a sheer bra or panties offered much more than a psychological feeling of being clothed.

He undressed too, then crossed to her and grabbed a handful of hair—not hard, but hard enough—and tugged her upward. “Kneel up. Legs slightly parted. Back straight. How’s the new apartment?”

“The new apartment… It’s okay, Sir.” She tried to kneel straight, ignoring the protest of her thighs.

“Just okay?”

She shifted. Now he wanted to talk? Her scalp stung, her legs and hips were sore, and her mind was on other things, like the insistent erection rising up before her eyes. And what to say about the apartment? It was small, dark, and in dire need of pest control. “It’s a place to live, I guess.”

“That bad?”

She shrugged, then yelped as his hand cracked across her ass.
Proper address.

“Yes, Sir! It’s bad! But it’s okay.”

He watched her shift again, then cocked his head to the side. “You really are sore, aren’t you? Come here.”

He helped her up, and she turned to him. He knelt and ran firm fingers down the front of both her thighs to just above her knees. “Here?”

“Yes, Sir. But I can manage—”

“Lie down.”

He guided her to the bed. She tensed as he pushed her back and crawled between her legs.

“Relax, girl.” He sat back and took her left leg in his hands, started to rub it. “I’m just going to massage your leg. This will take some of the ache away.”

There’s only one thing that can take this ache away, she thought, staring up at him. His brows furrowed in careful concentration as he manipulated her muscles. She let her gaze travel lower to take in his half-erect cock. She remembered the feeling of it in her mouth, in her pussy, filling her up.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Jackson’s words drew her back from her salacious dreams. She opened her mouth and closed it, not sure what to say. “I could have helped you. Next time let me know.” He picked up the other leg and worked the same magic. “I don’t like when you’re hurt. I don’t want you wearing and tearing your body.”

I want you to hurt me. I want you to wear me and tear me.

It was unbearable. If it were anyone else, she would have launched herself into his arms ten minutes ago, wrapped her legs tight around his hips, pressed her lips to his, lowered herself onto his cock—

What kind of slut was she turning into? She pursed her lips, trying not to think about how the heat from his fingertips radiated all the way to her pussy.

“You need to take care of these legs for me.” He looked down at them, manipulated and caressed them, from the top of her thigh to the arch of her foot. “Point.” She did, and he licked from the inside of her knee all the way up her leg. As he neared her center, she made an urgent sound. If he went any farther, she would lose control and thrust her pussy right up to his mouth.

He smiled down at her. She was quite sure that he understood every impulse she felt. “Has anyone ever gone down on you?” His lips kissed ever closer to the part of her that felt like it was going to explode.

“N-no, Sir.”

“Why not? They didn’t offer, or you didn’t want it?”

“I didn’t want it.” She told him the truth even though she knew she’d get a disapproving look.

“Didn’t you think it would feel good?” His tongue, warm and wet, lapped once, twice across her center. She gasped. Her clit was so swollen, so sensitive. He licked her again, harder. The throb became a resonating urge.

“Please!” She reached down to grasp at his shoulders. He made a sharp noise and took her hands in his. He pinned them to the bed and glared down at her.

“Please, what?”

“Please, Sir, please—” She clenched her teeth as he nipped at her clit, then licked at the gorgeous ache he left behind.

“Ask me, if you want it. I’ll make you come this way if you ask nicely.”

“I can’t!” She’d never be able to reach orgasm like this. It was too intimate, the way he was licking her, exploring her with his lips, his mouth. God, he was…
God
! How did his tongue get there?

“I can’t come like this, Sir! Please, I just know I can’t—”

Jackson laughed. “I give it a minute and a half.”
No, no
… But oh God, it felt good. Soon the doubt in her mind was replaced by an ache in her pelvis that prevented any kind of logical thought. Any embarrassment and shame she felt was replaced by wonder at the things his tongue was making her feel and the desire for him to never stop. She came close, closer. She pulled at his hands where he held her, but he didn’t let go. He sucked on her clit, then licked it in rhythmic strokes that made her hips jerk.

“Oh God! God! Please! Please, I’m going to come, Sir!”

He made a sound of assent, and she howled, her hands trapped in his fists. Her walls contracted, and her whole body tensed. Her world was reduced to his hot breath on her clit and the glorious pleasure that washed over her body. The orgasms he gave her seemed multicolored and multilayered compared to the ones she’d had before. He held her down, and she reveled in his control of her until the last shudder left her and her breathing calmed.

“Thank you, Sir,” he prompted when she could speak again.

“Thank you, Sir,” she said with such avid gratefulness that Jackson chuckled against her inner thigh. He knelt up again between her legs. The magical mouth that had made her lose her mind now frowned as he studied her body.

“Is that one of mine?” he asked, pointing to a bruise on her calf.

“No, Sir, I don’t think so. One of Blake’s. The crossover to the
rond de jambe
.”

“Clod,” he muttered under his breath. “What about here? Do you hurt here?” He began to massage her hip with agile fingers. “Your extension was terrible today.”

“Yes, Sir. It does hurt. I’m so sorry about my extension—”

He leaned down and closed his lips over hers. She reached for his neck, wound tentative fingers in his short, disheveled hair. She marveled at how soft it was. He didn’t tell her to stop, so she pulled him closer. His breath tickled her brow and blew down her neck. He kissed her, endless kisses, fast, slow, wet, deep. His fingers on her hip didn’t stop, not once. They continued to knead the ache away as he fed on her lips, sucked on her tongue. He captured her tiny moans and pleas in his mouth that still tasted faintly of her.

Her desire had only been whetted by the orgasm he gave her. She wanted to feel him inside her, feel him overpower her with his strength and his cock. But he seemed to enjoy teasing her in her needy condition. He cupped her face, licked her lips, made soothing sounds that only fueled the flames. She gazed up at him with a soft whine.

“Prosper,” he whispered against her ear. “What’s the matter?”

“Please, Sir! Please!”

Oh, the begging was gorgeous. He almost came right there, right on her belly, as he knelt over her. She begged so well, not fake like so many women. It was breathless, primitive begging. He thought he was probably falling in love.

He turned her over and parted her thighs wide with his knees. He stretched her arms high above her head and held them against the sheets. Her gorgeous ass arched off the bed, round and inviting. He wanted to spank it, make it scarlet and sore, but he couldn’t take the time for that now. Any hunger she felt, he was sure he felt tenfold. “I’m going to fuck you,” he said. “You lie there and wait.”

He got up, rolled on a condom. When he knelt back on the bed, he pulled her hips up and held them firmly in his hands. It was good that he’d made her come earlier because he wouldn’t last long enough to make her come again. He pulled her arms back down and made her cross her wrists at the small of her back. He held them there with one hand, while his other hand snaked around the front of her to hold her fast for his initial deep thrust.

She cried out, a sexy sound that drove him crazy. She was so alive, so responsive when he fucked her, he could practically feel her nerves vibrating against his skin. How could she be so serious and reserved in the studio and yet so unfettered in bed? It confounded him. But he couldn’t think of that now. He wanted to think about fucking her, plunging his cock inside her again and again as he held her so she couldn’t get away. He looked down and watched his length slide in and out of her pussy, advancing and retreating. He slammed his pelvis against her lovely cheeks, still holding her restrained. He basked in the feeling of controlling and possessing something so wild. His captured creature.