Red Hot Obsessions (158 page)

“Yeah. I've just been under a lot of stress.”

He gave me a strange look, somewhere between disapproval and disappointment. “If you're not feeling well, then you shouldn't have come. You do know how to work your phone, don't you?”

I sighed. Being condescending was the last thing I needed from him.

“I thought that seeing you might help take my mind off of things,” I said.

“Anything you care to talk about?”

“No.” That would just spoil this even more.

“How's your finger?” He looked down at my wounded appendage, which was healing up nicely.

I held it up in the air and wiggled it for him. “Almost as good as new.”

“That's good.”

We sat in awkward silence for a moment. It seemed like he was scared to approach me, like he feared my mood.

“Have you given any more thought towards learning about BDSM?” he asked, leaning against the chest of drawers.

I shook my head. “Not really. My mind has been too occupied with other things.”

“That's fine. I just thought I would ask.”

“Can we just . . . get on with the lessons?” I felt bad for rushing him, for making it sound like a chore. Perhaps I was hoping that when our bodies were coupled together, I'd start to feel better.

“Are you sure you're up for this?”

“Mhm.” I nodded, but he didn't look convinced.

After staring at me strangely for a minute, he turned to open the chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “I thought today we could do some light bondage. I don't want to overwhelm you the first time, so you should know that these aren't real. There's a mechanism on them where you can unlock yourself. In my BDSM training sessions, I use real ones, but since we're just playing, I thought I would do a slow introduction.”

I stared at the handcuffs, which were obviously made of cheap plastic. They lacked the shine of metal, and didn't look particularly sturdy.

The idea of being restrained had always turned me on. Just the thought of being powerless, in general, aroused me. Maybe I really was built for the BDSM lifestyle.

I tried to push my thoughts about Chase to the side. After all, I had come here to have fun, not to sulk. Besides, thinking about Chase wasn't going to change anything that had happened. That was over now.

Forcing a smile, I held out my wrists. “Lock me up, stud.”

“Take off your clothes first. Everything but your bra and underwear,” he instructed, and I was quick to comply, shedding my white blouse and red pencil skirt before I hopped up onto the bed.

Fuck my cares away.

Damien came to my side, towering over me to pull my wrists over my head and clasp the handcuffs in place. I watched him move, wanting to nip at his T-shirt but knowing better. He was supposed to be in control. That was the game of the night.

When he had finished securing my fake bonds, Damien stood at the side of the bed to take off his shirt. He stared down at me all the while, his brown eyes burning into me as he slowly revealed an inch of skin at a time. Just the sight of his bare flesh made my pussy ache.

“You remembered.” I smirked.

“Shh. No talking,” he told me, and it took everything in me not to pout.

The shirt slid over his muscular shoulders, and then it was tossed haphazardly onto the floor. Damien Reed knew how to use his body to seduce, and he was showing me the full power of it. I nibbled on my bottom lip as I watched him unbuckle his pants, then slide them down over his hips along with his boxers. His cock was flaccid, but still looked beautiful. It wouldn't stay soft for long, I was certain.

When he was completely naked, he crawled on top of me, leaning down to press his lips against mine. I met his kiss eagerly, wrapping my tongue around his and feeling every smooth wet centimeter of it. Even his kiss was teasing. He'd allow me to explore the slick cavern of his mouth for a while, and then he'd pull away to nibble and tug on my bottom lip. My back practically arched in an attempt to draw him to me, but he moved away with a wicked grin.

“Maybe you are ready for this after all,” he whispered.

“I'm always ready for you,” I replied, my body writhing with the heat of my desire.

In a surprisingly quick gesture, he grabbed the cups of my bra and pulled them down over my breasts, forcing them to swell over the tight material. My breath hitched from the suddenness of it, and before I could close my mouth, his was on top of mine again, taking my breath away. Our tongues moved urgently against each other, needily against each other. I wanted to put my arms around his neck, but knew I shouldn't.

His hands reached down to squeeze my breasts, applying so much pressure that it almost hurt. A whimper escaped my throat, and he softened his grip, trailing his hands up to pinch and twist my nipples. Blood rushed to them, turning them into taut peaks in his grasp. Each rough twist sent a shock of need straight to my pussy, and I bowed my legs, so he could see the moistness he was causing down below.

He broke away from the kiss to crawl between my thighs, leaning forward to rub his swollen erection against my panties. I gasped at the feel of his cock head catching on my heated nub. It felt tortuously exquisite, him bucking away, creating friction with his meaty shaft and teasing my bud when the head flicked beneath it. Soon my pussy was throbbing, my body threatening to fall over the edge.

“So good,” I moaned, closing my eyes and submitting to the bliss between my legs.

“You like that?” he asked, though it didn't sound like a question at all.

“You're going to make me come.”

“Already? You're so easy to please. I love it.”

“I do too.”

He stopped thrusting, though kept his hard sex on top of mine. My body begged for him to continue, but before I could ask for it, he grabbed his cock head, angled it up a bit, and then let it fall back onto my pussy. The force of it sent a shock of electricity straight through me.

“Oh God,” I cried out.

“Want me to spank your pussy with my cock?”

“Yes. Please. Again. Do it again.”

He obliged, but this time, he grabbed the base of his rod and slapped it against my engorged lips, sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through me. I was almost to the edge when he stopped.

“No. Don't. Keep going,” I said, embarrassed by how desperate I sounded.

He grinned at me, gripping the crotch of my underwear and pulling them aside. “You're so wet down here already,” he commented, pushing a finger into me to feel my moistened tunnel. I clenched around it almost instinctively.

Despite my begging, he allowed my orgasm to subside, more interested in other things. Annoyed by my panties, he gripped them by the waistband and pulled them off, tossing them onto the floor. Then he spread my legs with his palms and used his fingers to pull my pussy lips apart, examining my inner workings. I blushed madly, feeling completely dirty and somewhat violated. No one had ever looked at me down there before. Not in the way that he was looking at me.

When he grabbed his cock and moved forward, I thought he was going to stick it in. But instead, he rubbed it between my cunt lips, building up the delicious friction again. The skin on skin contact was far better than him rubbing me on top of my underwear, and I found myself crawling back up the mountain of pleasure at super sonic speed. Every time his glans would tap my clit, it pulsed in approval, wanting more.

Damien leaned over me, positioned to fuck. He pistoned his hips, sliding his length back and forth between my folds so fast that all I could do was gasp and cry out when my pleasure button had had enough. Contractions rolled through my stomach, rocking me to the core, my clit firing off, throbbing beneath his thick veiny member.

“Oh, God, Damien.” I wanted to grab onto his arm, to touch him . . . anywhere. But the damned handcuffs were keeping that from happening. Now I was feeling the full emotional weight of being restrained, the mind fuck that my ability to touch him had been taken away.

“That's a good girl,” he whispered, leaning to give me a chaste kiss on the corner of the mouth. When he pulled away, I strained forward, biting his bottom lip. He continued to move away though, and I was forced to let go.

Damien slapped his cock against my pussy a few more times, milking out any stray contractions. Then he angled it to slip into my warm wetness. I was oh so wet for him. Dripping, practically. He slid inside with ease, making me feel full and complete. When we were coupled together, it felt like I was an extension of him, and he was an extension of me. It just felt so right.

He began thrusting immediately, slow at first. I moaned when he pressed his body against mine, leaning in for a kiss. Our tongues danced together, and between breaths, I sucked on his lips while he filled me, pumping and pounding, his gorgeous naked body moving on top of mine.

I wanted him, so bad. Not just sexually. I wanted to belong to him, and for him to belong to me. For us to be more than this. More than sweat and sex and lessons.

Up until this point, I managed to drown those thoughts out. Why they were coming back now, I didn't know, but they had come with a vengeance, snuffing out my happiness and pleasure.
Not now. Please,
I begged, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes. But every time I looked at Damien, I knew I couldn't have him, and it absolutely killed me.

Before I knew it, I was sobbing loudly. Damien stopped thrusting, looking at me with concern as he pulled out.

“Are you alright? Am I hurting you? What's wrong?” he asked, coming to my side to look me over.

“No. You're not hurting me,” I cried.

“Then what?” he breathed a sigh of relief.

I brought my arms in front of my chest and pushed myself into a sitting position, avoiding his gaze and feeling like a complete idiot. The waves of emotion wouldn't stop though, and I knew I couldn't torture myself anymore. This was a mistake. I never should have come.

“I can't do this anymore,” I sniffled.

“Do what?”

“This.” I thrust my wrists at him. He moved to unfasten the handcuffs, but I pulled my arms away. “No. Not just this. I mean, all of this, with you.”

He looked incredibly uncomfortable, sitting rigid as he watched me. “I'm not sure I get what you're trying to say.”

The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them, “I love you, Damien. I'm in love with you. And you don't want me like that. I know it. I understand. I just . . . I can't do this, knowing that you'll never want me like that.”

He took a deep breath and then looked away. “Oh.”

See. I knew it. This was pointless. Why had I come at all?

I fought with the handcuffs, practically breaking them in an attempt to get them off. Then I flung my legs over the side of the bed and fumbled for my clothes, putting them on as quickly as possible, crying all the while.

“Do you want to talk about this?” he asked, sitting on the bed with his legs crossed while he watched me dress.

“What's there to talk about? I told you how I feel, now I want to go home.”

“Yes, you did tell me how you feel. But you never asked how I feel about you.”

I was too scared to know—too scared to ask. Instead, I slowed down, taking my time as I continued to dress.

“I do care about you, Cheyenne. I really do,” he began.

“But?” There was always a but. The way he was hesitating let me know there was a but. And buts always hurt. I tried to brace myself for the pain to come, but what did it really matter. The tears had begun falling a while ago. It wasn't like I could produce anymore of a torrent.

“But I don't do relationships. Not in the traditional sense.”

“I kind of figured,” I sniffled, sitting on the edge of the bed to strap my feet into my sandals. In a matter of minutes, I would be out the door and putting this whole mess behind me.

With my shoes on, I stood and grabbed my keys off the chest of drawers, practically running to get out of the room. Before I could make it to the door though, Damien grabbed me by the wrist and drew me back to him. His hot mouth enveloped mine, and I gasped, slapping at his chest. When he pulled away, I was all fury.

“What part of I can't do this anymore don't you understand?” I growled.

“What part of I want you don't you understand?”

I blinked a few times, my mind a mess of confusion. “You . . . want me? But you just told me that you don't date.”

“I don't date, but I do carry on relationships in other ways.”

“Other ways?” I felt absolutely stupid, like there was something very obvious that I wasn't getting.

“If you would be interested in learning about BDSM, then I would be willing to take you on as my submissive.”

I scowled. “You want me to be your slave.”

“No, and yes. I want you to be by my side. I know you don't really understand, because we haven't gotten into it much. But in the BDSM world, collaring someone is as good as putting a wedding ring on their finger. Now, I don't want you to get ahead of things and think I want to marry you. I'm just saying that I would like to work towards . . . that type of relationship with you.”

He was stuttering, searching for words, and I could tell he was desperately trying to keep me there. My brain couldn't process everything at once. Wedding rings and collars sounded like two completely different things to me. But he was right, I didn't really understand. Perhaps I should have allowed him to start the lessons, so I had a better idea of what he was talking about.

“So, if I agreed to become your submissive, then it would kind of be like we were dating?” I asked.

“There's a process to it that's a bit more complicated than that, but yes, essentially, you would belong to me. We would be in a committed relationship with each other.”

“I . . . really don't know what to say.”

“If you love me, as you say you do, then say yes.” His eyes had returned to their normal empowered smoldering, as if he already knew he had won.

“Yes?” I wasn't sure if it was an answer or a question. There was no doubt in my mind that I wanted him. Heck, I admitted to loving the guy. This wasn't the type of relationship I had hoped for, but I would do anything to be by his side.