My Liege of Dark Haven (7 page)

“I daresay you’ll learn manners eventually.” His hand returned to lie against her pussy, right where she was the wettest. “Now answer my questions. Politely.”

“I’m not a virgin.”
Which I’m sure you knew
. “I hadn’t thought about touching. Sexually.” She hadn’t planned to do anything, and now here she was, naked, strapped down, and being openly stimulated. Wasn’t this wrong? Didn’t she love Nathan?

How could someone else excite her?

But Nathan hadn’t wanted her. She was free to act as she pleased. In fact, he’d probably found someone else already. The realization made her feel lonely even as her anger rose.

Xavier’s gaze grew more intent. “That’s an excessive amount of thinking for a simple question.”

Sex is never simple
. “Touching and…things…aren’t a problem.”

“Very good.” Now that she’d told him he could touch her, the jerk moved his hand away. How perverse was that?

Her attempt to rein in her glare probably exploded brain cells throughout her skull.

His lips pressed together, and he was obviously trying not to laugh. “Abby, you’re truly a delight.” With one finger, he guided a lock of hair behind her ear. “Now, I could blindfold you to keep you in the present, but you’ll be more comfortable if you can see me.”

She nodded even though he wasn’t asking permission—merely telling her what would happen. Undoubtedly this was his version of negotiation. After all, he’d seen her limits list. She began to think she should have marked
no
to a whole lot more items.

Which way did most submissives choose—to try or to refuse the majority of the options? Wouldn’t that be a great subject to research? She’d theorize that submissive traits would lead people to—

Xavier made a warning sound.

She blinked and realized he was staring at her.
Uh-oh.

“You are something, pet,” he murmured. He stroked a finger across her lower lip, down her chin, the slow progress of his warm fingertip excruciatingly sensual. After circling the hollow of her neck, he kissed her there, his lips velvety, before his finger trailed along the highest strap. Her breasts, already compressed, tightened further, and her nipples throbbed as if demanding he detour to attend to them.

His touch slid between her breasts, circled the left, then spiraled inward to the nipple.

Oh please, touch me.

He plucked the peak gently, and the sensation felt like light bursting through stained glass, brightening everything in her body. The next pull was harder, making her labia throb as well. When he pinched and held without releasing, the pain lit something deep inside her, sparking a disconcerting sensation of pleasure.

Her thoughts wavered as her need to escape conflicted with the desire to arch into his grasp.

Smiling, he released her nipple, and blood flowed back in with a rush. “These will be a beautiful, deep red when I finish,” he said, not looking up. His finger circled the areola.

Her clitoris tingled and burned, but she didn’t want him to…to touch her. Not there. Except she really, really
did
want him to.
No. Yes
. Gritting her teeth, she looked away from him, trying to distract herself. She was supposed to be doing research, after all, not letting some…person…play with her. What kind of a slut was she anyway?

Across the room, the Dom scrubbed the equipment while the Domme dispensed water and hugs to the blanket-wrapped submissives. How did two Dominants decide who was in—

“You’re deliberately diverting yourself,” Xavier stated. It wasn’t a question.

Her gaze shot up.

“I thought you became sidetracked by the activities around you—that you needed to discipline yourself—but that’s not it. You mentally escaped from here, much as someone would run away on foot. Why?”

“I… The scene over there was interesting.”

His black brows drew together, and his eyes hardened. “No. You looked over there to distract yourself. You performed the same maneuver with Seth.” He leaned a hip on the table, completely at ease, conversing with her while she was naked, legs open for everyone to see her genital area. “I don’t think there’s any question you’re submissive, Abigail, and that you’re aroused. Does arousal make you so uncomfortable you need to escape?”

As a flush flooded her face, she pulled and twisted, wanting free of the straps. Who was he to question her about her feelings?

He cupped her breast, using his thumb to idly toy with the nipple. Her back started to arch, and she stiffened.
No
. The feeling of need was…wrong. Her responses weren’t under her control—her body was short-circuiting her thoughts.

“Are you afraid of being aroused?”

“Of course not.”
Fear
wouldn’t be the right word. Uncomfortable…definitely.

His eyes narrowed, his gaze intent. He rolled her nipple between his fingers, and her eyes closed at the rush of sensation. When he stopped, she struggled to pull herself together, to—

“It’s the loss of control that bothers you,” he murmured. “Not the arousal, especially, but it destroys your ability to stay in your head. To think.” He leaned down to stroke her face. “Little fluff, don’t you realize that’s what being submissive is all about? Giving up control so you don’t have to think or worry? For the time we are together in this scene, thinking is my job.”

His words sent a stab of fear and—and something hopeful—through her. Low in her belly, a disconcerting flutter of anticipation started, like the flapping of a curtain in a freshening storm. “Xavier.”

“Try again.”

“My liege, I don’t want… This isn’t…” She couldn’t
think.

“You don’t have to analyze it here. Do you trust me, right now, to control this scene—and you—for the next half hour to an hour?”

If she said no, she’d hurt his feelings. And she did trust him. Mostly. Could she let him have his way? “You won’t gag me?”

“No, Abby.” His smile was tender. “You’re not ready for that.”

But what would he do? She wanted to find out…kind of. “All right.”

“Good girl.” To her consternation, he pulled her glasses off.

“No!”

He squinted through the lenses. “They’re for distance, hmm? Can you see my face?”

“Somewhat, but not as well as when they’re on.”

“And the other scene?”

She turned her head. Anything farther away than about three feet turned blurry. “No.” Being half-blind was too, too scary. “I want my glasses.”

“No.” The absent way he said it, as if she didn’t have a choice, set off an odd shimmer in her bones. He regarded her soberly. “You’re scared without them? More than being bound to a table?”

“I’m trying not to think about bondage,” she said grumpily.

He grinned, swift and wonderful.

“And yes, I’m scared. What if something happened, like a fire?” She wouldn’t be able to find her way out. “Or a terrorist attack. Or zombies.”

He chuckled. “I do like submissives with imagination.”

That wasn’t imagination—just being prepared.

“First, I would never, ever leave someone who is restrained.” He laid his hand on her face as if to promise. “However, we can compromise. You may keep them close.” He tucked her glasses beside her thigh, where her fingers could trace the metal. “Not in your hand, though—you might crush them without realizing it.”

How would that happen? As her anxiety increased to the level of a thesis defense, his lips quirked.

From his bag he pulled an eight-inch box, a water bottle, tiny hand wipes, a… Was that yogurt? Finally he took out a vibrator, still in its packaging. “This is your first toy from me.”

I didn’t ask for a toy.

He ran his hand between her legs, tracing her folds, sending her body into joyful anticipation. Her clit throbbed with demand. His finger circled as if measuring for size, then thrust inside, almost like a medical exam…only no doctor had ever made her feel like this.

Knowing she couldn’t avoid his intimate touch—or anything he chose to do—sent waves of heat through her. And worse, she couldn’t direct where she wanted his hands. She tried to tilt her hips up, to get him to pay attention to her clit, but the strap over her lower belly prevented any movement. Her skin felt as if it were on fire.

He added another finger, stretching her. The fluttering in her belly grew as he explored her and watched her, as if getting her accustomed to his touch. When he stroked a spot inside her that made her feel as if her clit had turned upside down, she made a gurgling noise.

“Oh?” He lingered, rubbing that place over and over, relentlessly increasing her needy hunger until even her toes strained upward.

“Good girl,” he said and slid the toy into her vagina. The shaft was cool and soft and slick and so much bigger than two fingers. She shuddered as it stretched her.

He flipped a switch, and the mild vibrations didn’t hit anything important—like her clit—yet her body felt as if he’d ratcheted up the pressure.

When he pulled on a pair of gloves, she stiffened. “What… I marked
no
to blood play.”

“Abigail.”

He knows that
. She swallowed hard before craning her neck to check the items he’d put on the table. No knives. No needles. Okay. Maybe.

The vibrations were making her clit burn with need. Her body felt…strange. Unfamiliar. When her gaze tracked over toward the other scene, she caught herself. She really did try to escape, didn’t she?

And now she wasn’t paying attention to the Dom. She forced her gaze back to him.

“Don’t worry, pet.” His dark eyes were too perceptive. “You’re not going to have a choice about thinking in a minute. I won’t permit it.” He inserted a cotton swab into one vial and painted her left nipple with the liquid. It smelled like what he’d smeared on her arm yesterday. Like Christmas candles. Or cinnamon. He wanted her breasts to smell like pie? Was there such a thing as a smell fetish?

He shook his head. “That mind of yours is a busy one.” He did the other areola.

As the cool air touched her wet nipples, they bunched into hard peaks.

Without saying anything, he tossed the cotton swab into the basket, followed by the gloves. He moved slowly, deliberately, as if in a ritualized dance, as he tightened her ankle restraints and ran his hands over her trim calves. When he continued upward past her pretty knees, she wanted to hide. “You have beautiful legs, Abby.”

And fat, white thighs. You bet.

“Pale skin has a fascinating texture.” His smile glimmered for a second. “Like Egyptian cotton sheets with a thread count of six hundred or so.”

Delight at the compliment ran through her, increased by the way he stroked her thighs, showing he was enjoying himself. She held her breath when his calloused fingers curled around her hips, and his thumbs caressed the crease outside her labia. So close.

He leaned over and kissed her stomach, and she really, really wanted those lips farther down. Why had she set limits like no sex?
I want sex.

His kisses descended until his breath ruffled the fine curly hair covering her mound.

“I…I don’t shave there,” she offered. “I—”

“Sometimes I insist on it. Sometimes I don’t,” he said. He fluffed her curls, sending a jolt of heat through her. “At the moment I don’t want you to shave. I like the white-tipped look against all that pink.”

His finger circled her belly button idly, as if he was killing time, waiting for…

Oooh, my breasts!
Each nipple felt as if a wet mouth had closed over it, and the warmth increased steadily into heat. Her breath caught. He’d swabbed that ointment on her. No wonder he’d worn gloves. “You…”

“Me.” His voice took on a hint of steel. “You don’t speak again, unless to use your safe word or
yellow
to indicate you’re frightened.”

“I was at
yellow
the minute I walked in the door.”

His laugh was as deeply masculine as his voice. “Then tell me when you reach orange.”

After donning new gloves, he chose a different vial and swabbed the outside of her inner labia. A minute later, the tissues turned cool, like an icy breath mint with a decided bite. Her nipples continued to grow hotter.

Uncanny sensations coursed through her: cold here, heat there, vibrations inside. She needed more. Something. When he picked up another vial, she tensed.
I don’t want that. I want sex.

He held up the dampened cotton swab where she could see it, and the longer he waited, the more she felt everything he’d already done. A terrifying anticipation bubbled in her veins.

With a faint smile, he slowly and thoroughly rubbed the swab on her clitoris.

Oh, oh, oh
. The roughness of the cotton was an exquisite torment. She inhaled hard, breathed out. In. Out. Nothing happened. She took an easier breath. That one wasn’t so bad.

Setting the swab and gloves aside, he stroked the outsides of her breasts, then trailed a finger down the center of her torso to above her pubic mound. Playing with her, fondling her, letting the vibrator, the ointments keep her arousal at an uncomfortable pitch. But why—

The stuff on her clit turned
hot
. Unlike the heat on her nipples, this was a thousand fiery needles attacking the nub of nerves.
No
. Sweat broke out on her upper lip, then over the rest of her body. It was too much. Vibrating inside. Her nipples burned, her folds felt icy, yet the most sensitive spot was on fire.

He bent and blew a stream of air right at her pussy. Her back arched as everything increased.
Cold. Hot
. She moaned.

“There’s a good girl.” With a low laugh, he upped the vibrator one notch.

Her insides clenched around the shaft as sensations rioted over her. Hot and cold and biting hot, and her core trembled around the buzzing vibrator.

In the stew of overload, she heard someone laugh nearby, and the smack of a paddle, and a scream. She inhaled the fragrance of cinnamon. Peppermint. The air seemed to billow around her, and she couldn’t focus. Too hot, and yet not, and as each second passed, the need to come clawed at her until her body shook with it. “I… Please…”