Power Trip: Double Helix, Book 1 (6 page)

She blinked. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so bluntly propositioned.”

“That’s not what I asked. Your brain will think you out of this experience if you let it. How do you feel about being with me? Are you aroused? What is your body telling you?”

She frowned, making him desperate for her answer. “My body says yes.”

“Excellent. Did you come straight from work?”

She nodded.

“Did you have dinner?”

She shook her head.

“I didn’t either. So after our scene, I’ll cook you dinner and we’ll interpret the results of our experiment. Sound like a plan?”

“I’m a vegetarian.”

“So in the vernacular of BDSM, you safeword at dead animals. Got it. Speaking of which—if you want me to stop, say red. If you are uncomfortable in any way, say yellow. Otherwise, green means go.”

She nodded. “Green it is.”

Chapter Six

“Ready when you are.”

Audrey swallowed. She had agreed to have sex with a man she had just met. Surely there was something wrong with that. She had certainly felt anxiety every other time she had gotten this far with a date. But this wasn’t a date, was it? Nope, this was an experiment. Cal had approached it with clinical detachment, if she discounted what he said about her skin making him dizzy.

Maybe she felt so comfortable because she was in familiar territory, dealing with variables, physical evidence and controlled stimulus. Of course, in a minute she’d be naked, which might affect her comfort level, but she hoped her desire to reveal a talent would outweigh any anxiety.

She stood and stripped, folding each item of clothing and placing it neatly on the couch beside him.

He watched her, eyes holding steady on whatever new skin she bared. What had he called their discussion? A negotiation? It certainly took the pressure off. She wasn’t worrying about how far to let this progress. She wasn’t thinking about whether or not he had a condom or if he really wanted to be doing this with her. It was freeing to have the answers to all of those questions up front. She hooked her thumbs in her panties, pushed them over her hips and stepped out of them.

He stood and she followed him to the table, climbing on when he gestured at the surface. She felt a little bit like she was at the doctor’s office as she perched on the cold leather. All she needed to complete the experience was the crinkle of paper, a hospital gown and a lap drape.

“Facedown.”

She complied. No woman on earth would be able to crawl naked across a table and go facedown without wondering how her ass looked while she was doing it. Martial arts kept her fit, but female was female, curves were curves, and she had more of them than the American feminine ideal. Audrey hoped her ass looked at least as good as the last one he’d seen on his table. As she settled herself flat, she realized she was aroused. Her nipples were hard and sensitive, and she shivered with pleasure as they touched the cool leather table.

“Don’t worry, you won’t be cold in a minute.”

He started with her hands. His fingers didn’t touch her skin as he fastened the Velcro closures around her wrists. She heard the zip and rip as he adjusted the fit. “Okay?” he asked.

“Yes, fine. I mean green.” She giggled, then wished she hadn’t because she sounded nervous and she wasn’t.

He spent less time adjusting the body restraints, probably because it was a straight shot down her prone form. “Try to wiggle.”

She couldn’t move a muscle below her neck, just as he’d promised. She lifted her head to watch him shrug out of his coat. Beneath the coat he wore a white tank top of the wife beater variety. Appropriate. She stifled another giggle. As he turned to cross the room, he stripped off the tank and she glimpsed a stark lightning bolt inked down the center of his back. Also appropriate.

Did they all have them? Tattoos to signify their super powers? Her brother had a king cobra between his shoulder blades. The Doc had the staff of Aesculapius. Cal had a lightning bolt. She relaxed against the table, wondering what Sam had tattooed on her back.

When he returned, he held a slip of black material. “Even though I don’t need to hide my powers from you, a hood might make it easier to accept what is happening. The sound of a lash whistling toward your back is scary until you learn to love its kiss on your skin. Blue fire, sparks and thunder can also be frightening. With your eyes and ears covered, you can just focus on how you feel, okay?”

She nodded and he slid the material over her head.

Terror, instant and complete, surrounded her.
Stop! Why are you doing this? I’ll be good!

She screamed.

He whipped the hood off her head. “What happened?”

She panted, head craned, every muscle rock-hard with tension. “I don’t know! No blindfold, no blindfold, no…” He began unfastening the Velcro straps. “No, stop, wait! I’m sorry. I’m okay now.”

“You are not okay.” He unfastened the rest of the straps and pulled her into a sitting position, cradled on his lap. “Was it the hood or the restraints?”

“The hood. I’m fine now.” She sighed, resting against him for a moment, disappointed that their experiment had failed so quickly. His heart beat under her cheek, a comforting thud. She nestled closer.

He froze, muscled arms stiffening around her.

“What?” she asked.

“Um, I’m touching you.”

“Yes, you are. It’s nice. Don’t stop.”

Slowly, he began to run his hand up and down her arm, soothing the last tremors from her body. “Mmm, that’s even better.” Everywhere he touched felt warm. She snuggled into his neck, inhaling. “You smell like fireworks.”

His hand settled on her bare hip, then moved down her thigh. His chuckle was rough and strained. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “Do we have to stop?”

“That’s up to you.”

“I want to try again,” she decided. “But no blindfold.”

He looked uncertain.

“Please,” she added. “I want to experiment and see if I have a talent too.” His hand was still on her thigh, sending a subtle vibration through her. She flexed her hips and he groaned, moving both of his hands to the table and pressing them flat. She clung to him for balance.

“Audrey.”

She looked up. Sparks flew from his eyes and landed on her cheeks like pixie dust. She reached up to touch them. “Audrey,” he ground out again. “Please get off my lap and get back on the table.”

“Oh! Sorry.” She slid to the floor and he stood up, taking several quick steps away from her. Was it bad form to be happy she had such an extreme effect on him? She crawled up on the table again, this time even more aware of the sexy sway of her ass and breasts, hoping he was watching her. She heard him cursing under his breath and she grinned.

This time, when he strapped her legs to the table, he placed them far apart.

“What’s your safeword?” he asked.

“Red.”

“And how do you feel now?’

“Green.”

She heard a whirring sound and lifted her head. The monitors, right. All normal. She admired his tattoo again as he walked across the room. It made her think of his gunpowder scent and the sparks in his eyes. He pulled a length of silver wire from a drawer and she watched it spool from his hand. She lowered her head into the padded rest and closed her eyes, waiting for the whip.

When it came, she wasn’t ready. His first blow cracked across her shoulders, more sound than pain. She jumped, a ripple of tense muscle. If she hadn’t been strapped down, reaction would have knocked her off the table. Her back buzzed with hundreds of racing impulses. She waited for the next strike. It didn’t come.

“Green,” she said impatiently, anxious for the swarm of angry dragonflies to land. He hit her again. She felt her skin coming to life, singing and crying for more intense vibrations. He gave them to her, working the whip down the length of her back, over her butt and thighs. There was music in this, a pattern of blows, the crack of the whip, and underneath it, the steady rumble of thunder. Light flashed on her eyelids. She felt a drumbeat in her sternum, pressed against the table. Could he hear it too? He must be able to hear it, to feel it. He was the one creating it.

She flowed with the beat, letting the music take her up and down. If she could have moved, she would have swayed to the irresistible rhythm that begged her to follow it. A teasing buzz between her legs sent her dancing over the edge. Another beat caught her attention as she felt fingers slide in and out of her body, sending her flying toward a second crescendo. She couldn’t move, and yet she was spinning, flying out of control over peak after peak. Her body pulsed in time with the orgasms that shook her inner flesh in an endless symphony of sensation.

Abruptly, the music stopped.

She cried out, reaching for more with immobile arms, running with legs held fast. A spasm racked her body, thwarted from reaching its goal. “Shh, wait,” she heard, and realized she was whimpering, sobbing, begging.

The table shifted beneath her. She felt air swirl between her legs. She tried to remember the sequence of events he had laid out for her. A beating, fingers…tongue, yes.

She no longer felt music, but her body was still singing. Her vibrator at home could not compare to the warm, wet buzz moving through her core, commanding her attention, claiming her entire being. He suckled gently at her clit and she wished she could see what his mouth looked like against her. He moved faster and she was no longer able to shape a thought except
more, more
, which he gave her until the sound of her screams eclipsed the hum of her body and she came hard against his mouth, so violently that it felt like her clenching muscles would vibrate hard and fast forever.

Cool air again. She sensed him moving away from her. A shudder shook her, pinned as she was to the table. She felt as if she were coming out of REM sleep, shuddering with involuntary reaction as aftershocks of energy coursed through her body. She had no control; she was locked in the moment.

Something pressed against her inner thighs. Then the head of him entered her body. She greeted the music with a scream of rapture.

He pulled away. “Safeword?”

What was her safeword? How could she get him to do that again? And again? With profound relief, she remembered.

The word was muffled, but she’d said
green
. A good thing. He was dead level steady after pouring an ungodly amount of electricity into her accommodating body, but he was dying to get inside her. The heart monitor had graphed normal rhythms and the EEG patterns were normal, too, so he’d carried on long past the point he usually stopped with other subs. His whip strikes on her back had started out as a grid, but then he’d filled it in with diagonal lines. The pattern had begun to tessellate and he’d gotten caught up in the ecstasy of her near-constant climaxes until he’d run out of room on her back.

He pulled his gloves onto his hands. He was pretty certain he was only feeling the natural arousal of a male for a woman, not the unnatural wired-up need to discharge energy, but he still wasn’t taking any chances. He kept his pants between their thighs and only entered her as far as the edge of the condom allowed. He gripped her ass with his gloved hands and worked his cock in and out of her body.

Again, no dangerous activity on the monitors. She was unbelievable. He settled his feet flat on the floor and surrendered to the white-hot flash of energy barreling up and outward, keeping one eye on the monitors until his vision blurred, blued. He saw sparks and heard thunder. The acrid smell of ozone smoke drifted through the air. His world caught fire, and he let it burn, excruciating.
Electric.
He was aware, even as his climax exploded through him, that it had never been like this.

When he could move again, he locked his knees to keep from falling forward onto her body. He took a halting step back and shucked the condom into the trash can. He fastened his pants. Weaving a bit, he grabbed another leather coat from his rack and shrugged into it before he approached the table and stripped the restraints from her body. She moaned. Her eyes were shut.

Gently, he rolled her over and gathered her into his arms. He carried her to the couch and sat down with her on his lap. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

She opened one eye. “If you have to ask, you’re doing it wrong.”

He chuckled and hugged her, careful to keep leather between them.

Both of her eyes opened. “You don’t scare me, you know.” She grabbed his head and pulled it down. He twisted out of her grasp. Hurt flashed in her dark eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he protested. “I’ve never kissed a girl before. You terrify me.”

She looked appeased. “I let you strap me to a table and tickle me with a wire—don’t tell me I scare
you
.”

“Tickle? Did you just say tickle? I zapped you with enough energy to run the house for a week—don’t tell me it didn’t hurt you.”

She shook her head. “Didn’t hurt.”

“You might change your mind when you see your back.”

She craned her neck to look over her shoulder. His gaze dropped to her breast, now thrust in his face. He licked her nipple. She gasped and scrambled out of his lap. “How come you can touch me but I can’t touch you?”