“You ready?” Jake asked from the doorway, freshly showered from the downstairs bathroom. He wore a crisp white T-shirt and pajama bottoms in navy blue with some sports team logo on them. It surprised her that he’d wear clothes, but maybe he was a little afraid, just like she was.
“I guess.” Tia grabbed the hat and tucked it behind her back, hoping he’d be happy. “Close your eyes, hold out your hands.”
He did as he was told, looking so boyish as he stood before her that she wanted to kiss him instead. But she set the hat gently in his hands and waited.
“It’s done?” He opened them, his expression pleased, his mouth a gentle O as he studied the stitches. He placed it on his head, and it fit perfectly, the blue stripe matching his eyes. “It’s wonderful.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“No, thank
you
.” He stepped forward, looking so sexy and incredibly stupid in a winter hat in May. But her heart did a little flutter, as if trying to take flight despite the bondage tape that held it captive. Hearts didn’t grow wings, did they? But hers must have, because he kissed her and it fluttered again.
He placed his forehead on hers and held her hands in his, his thumb tracing the ring on her left hand. “So what do you want from me?”
Tia took a deep breath and whispered, “I want wedding sex again.”
His forehead lifted from hers, and he looked at her with surprise. Joy. “Okay.”
“I want to be just plain Sarah in your arms, as you asked. Tia was the name I took when things got tough. When I got tough. I want our lovemaking to be every bit as sweet, pure, and wonderful as it was the first time we did this.”
He released her hand and ran his thumb over her bottom lip, stroking it gently. “And what will you give me?”
Oh, this part would hurt, just as much as wedding vows. She’d never handed over power before. She’d let men steal it, sure. Had allowed it to be taken. But had never given it.
“I promise I will let you to do this,” she whispered. “I promise to moan when it feels good, I promise to scream your name when you demand it. I promise I will tell you when it hurts and when I’m scared like hell.” She trembled because it already hurt like hell, and she was terrified. More than she’d been on the first try.
“I want you to use your safeword when it’s too much. I’ll stop.”
“That’s stupid. It’s vanilla sex. I shouldn’t need one.”
“That’s the tough girl talking. Sarah’s going to need a safeword.” He slid his hands to her waist, looking down at her, smelling of shampoo and soap. Clean, yet with a hint of man that made it his scent. “This is going to be the most intense scene of your life, honey, because it’s real. I am going to make love to you, every inch of you, and I’m hoping when you’re done, you’ll feel like I feel.”
She didn’t want to ask how he felt, because she hoped he was as scared and terrified as she was. Then he kissed her sweetly, his mouth gentle, persuasive, luring her, beckoning to her. She answered, afraid to give in. He kissed harder, and finally, she moaned under his mouth and allowed herself to feel.
Sensation mixed with color in the back of her mind, the pleasure a brilliant purple that sparked a shock in her pussy, her skin tingling a soft yellow in her mind. The love she felt for him tinged in red and pink, and her skin glowed, heated, dampened as his tongue swirled with hers. Green was something else, envy, maybe, that he could feel this much for her and put it in a kiss. Wasn’t that wrong for a man?
Somehow, they ended up on the bed, him between her legs, his pants gone, his cock insistent between her legs, delving into her folds. He slid the nightgown up and off her head, and she was naked in his arms, guiding his head to her breasts to suck her nipples.
His fingers delved into her wet core, stroking her pussy, her clit, thrusting into her damp heat. A jolt of realization that she didn’t want him to be slow or easy shook her. She needed him to be urgent, fast, to claim her quickly as if he couldn’t wait. She couldn’t.
“Slow,” Jake whispered against her breast. “I want to savor what you’re offering.”
How could she be slow? Her lungs seemed to shut down, her breaths coming in short pants as if they only worked on a teaspoon of air. His hands tickled her ribs, spanning her waist. He dropped a kiss on her stomach, right below where her ribcage ended, then slid his tongue upward, over her ribs, along the underside of her breast. She jumped, and when she bit back a moan, he stopped.
“Moan or I’ll punish you.”
She didn’t want punishment, did she? He lapped again, along the same path, and she grabbed the bottom sheet, wrinkling it in her fists.
“Bad, bad girl,” he whispered. “You made a promise. Now you’ll pay.”
She tensed, fear and desire banding together, and her senses heightened as he struggled to the side of the bed. Something touched her side, then tickled. She shrieked and batted his hands away, the pleasure intense. “No tickling!”
“You said you’d moan. If you don’t moan when it feels good, I’ll tickle you. Totally kink, but the house likes it.” He tickled again, the gray feather in his hand one he’d stolen from the duster downstairs.
She smacked his hand, trying not to shriek again. “No one has ever tickled me before.”
“Do you like it?” He tried to manage innocence as fingers walked down her stomach, over her bare mound to slide into her slit.
“I don’t think so.” She tried to glare, but he tickled again with the feather hand. The other hand did wicked things to her clit, stroking and teasing that hard nub. Two fingers eased into her pussy, thrusting in time with each feather stroke. This time she allowed the moan to slip from her lips. “I don’t think the house likes it, either.”
“I think you and the house like it more than you want to admit.” He returned his tongue to her breast and rimmed her areola this time, tracing the darkened circle around her nipple. Her lungs seemed to reduce in size again as that wicked path drew closer, the peak hard and sensitive. He blew hot air across the tip, and this time, when she bit her lip in open disobedience, he ran that damned feather up her ribs.
“Nooo,” came out as half moan, half laugh. So shocking that stupid feather would send shivers of desire along her spine, into her tummy, between her thighs to coat his fingers with even more cream.
“No?” He sat up, the bed creaking, and sighed. “Sorry I didn’t please you. I guess I’ll go have a whiskey—”
“No! Quit being an ass. This is supposed to be my darkest fantasy, not a tickle fest.” Only Jake would promise her a dark fantasy and give her…tickling. But maybe he knew exactly what she needed, because a part of her wanted to be naughty so he’d do it again and again. Maybe laughing with him, something she’d done all weekend, would release the Sarah side of her easier.
He wiggled the feather under her breast, where she wanted him to lick, and gave her a wicked laugh. “What would you like me to do to you, Tia?”
“Suck my nipples.”
“I don’t remember how. Or where they are.” He sucked her hipbone. “Here?”
Total ass. But she lov—liked him that way. She smacked him again on the shoulder, then sank her hands into his hair and dragged him up, over, and down until his lips covered the aching peak. “Suck,” she whispered.
He drew the peak in between insistent lips, his tongue joining in to flick and tease, echoing the gentle thrusts his other hand executed, in and out of her slick channel. She sighed and the strain of tension left her body, her muscles becoming pliant and soft like globs of pudding stuck on her bones.
“That’s my girl,” he encouraged. “How much pain?”
How could she take stock of her emotions when his tongue was performing gymnastic movements on her other nipple? And his thrusting fingers tapped out a beat on that squishy bundle of nerves at the top of her channel? But she focused inward and found just the tiniest ache seeping out around the bondage tape on her heart. “Just a little.”
“Good girl. You want some good pain?”
“God, yes.” Anything but the tickling.
His hand withdrew and she wanted to protest until he dragged a bag up off the floor. “I found this store when I was on my mission for Chase. I picked up a few special things, just for you.”
She struggled to sit up but her pudding muscles weren’t lending much support.
Jake gently pressed her back on the bed. “Shh, lay back, baby. I worked hard to get you this relaxed. Just close your eyes and let me surprise you.”
She closed her eyes. The bag rustled, plastic rattled and a chain jingled. Mmm, chains meant clamps, her favorite. She had guessed right because one hand opened her pussy lips and his mouth covered her clit, sucking gently, vibrating it with his tongue. As soon as his mouth lifted, he applied the clamp. She sighed with delight, loving the sting, how he knew exactly what she needed.
“Too much?”
“No, go for more.”
He adjusted the clamp tighter, and this time, she gave him the moan he wanted so desperately.
“That’s my girl. These are nipple and clit combined. I’m lazy. I only want to pull one chain and hit all the high notes at once.” He got to work on her nipples, sucking each in turn, then decorating them with his toys. “So pretty, those pert nipples decked out in silver. I know, I’m breaking the rules. This should be your fantasy. But I know you like them, and I’d picked them up with intent on using them for our wedding night, take two.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. He yanked the chain and all clamped areas sang with the most wonderful, delicious pain ever. An orgasm began to make the slow climb upward, hovering on the rungs of that pleasure ladder deep inside her.
“Since this is your fantasy, I’ll give you choices. I got you a different butt plug, too. We can use that and I’ll fuck your pussy, or a vibrator and I’ll take your ass.” He vibrated the chain with his finger, and she moaned again. “Or we can just go for it without toys, or I can make you come like you are now, with my mouth and hands.”
She’d never had to pick before. He always told her what he wanted or needed or how the scene would play out, as did all men.
Whatever you wish
surfaced.
Fuck him or die
also surfaced, and the two mingled and danced on her tongue. She looked up at him then, his blue eyes turbulent but patient, the cords of his neck taut with lust as he waited for her answer.
So she took a deep breath and gave in, as he wished.
“I want just you,” she whispered. “Plain missionary, like wedding sex night. But I like the clamps. It feels like…us.”
He closed his eyes, seemed to take stock in something, and then opened them with a smile that quirked almost sadly at the corners of his firm lips. Almost too late, she realized what she had said.
Us.
The ache in her heart swelled from a two to a six in the pain scale, and she swallowed the lump that grew in her throat.
“Kiss me,” he coaxed, leaning in.
She offered her lips. His tasted bittersweet, warm and gentle for the first stroke of his tongue, lusty and hot by the second stroke. Pain echoed with each nibble of his lips, and when he strummed the chain connecting all of her sensitive bits, that pain mixed with the other in a hybrid of damning sensation. She trembled as she slid under him, urging him to take his place, to make them one. How could his skin be so hot, muscles so hard, the brush of his hipbone against hers so erotic?
Reaching between them, she guided his cock to the opening of her pussy, needing him deep inside. Now, before lust burnt her to a crisp. He fluttered above her as her lids slid shut, blocking him out.
“Open your eyes.”
How could she? Eyes were the window to a soul, and he’d see what she felt for him if she did as he requested. He’d see the way into her bound heart and step in to claim the rest of her. There couldn’t be an
us
.
She bumped her hips upward, angling his cock so he could ram home, but he held back, denying her.
“Open.”
The voice always won. She opened her eyes, and he eased home, her pussy quivering as he stretched her with measured thrusts. Reverence shone in his blue eyes, as if she were his world. His perfection. She moaned, the stab in her chest stronger than any she’d ever felt before. Definitely a twelve, God help her.
“Does it hurt?”
“Oh, God. Yes.” She couldn’t gaze at him any longer. She’d have to believe he loved her if she did.
He held her chin and shook his head, daring her to close them. She obeyed. “Green?”
Lust swirled bright, golden like his skin. She swallowed and panted, her breath suddenly too quick. She wanted to run, but he held her captive with the blue of his eyes, stronger than any bondage tape. And she decided then to give in and allow herself to believe that he loved her. “Green.”
He thrust then, slowly, alternating between sucking each clamped nipple as he loved her, the length of his cock so hard, so deep, her pussy aching. Her heart aching just as hard. She grabbed his ass and drove him deeper, harder, and the pain grew instead of faded. She went to bite back a moan, and he must have felt it because he stilled.
“Give in,” he commanded. He tweaked the chain to her clamps.
The pain intensified, as did the pleasure, and she moaned, welcoming both for a change. Her legs found his hips, and suddenly, he went from thrusting to pounding, then back to thrusting, so deep her clit clamp was ground on each down stroke, the shock of each bump felt to her toes. Through the pain-filled haze of pleasure, she couldn’t see where her orgasm began. It was there, wasn’t it? Lurking? But then he changed his tempo and kissed her again, holding one hip as he drove harder, faster, his cock demanding.
“Sarah?” He kissed her neck, his breath in her ear, hot, sweet. So sexy to hear the man she loved say her name this one time.
“Yes?”
“Come for me.”
She opened her mouth to say she didn’t know if she could. She didn’t feel anything like that brewing in the thick fog, but it snuck up and rammed into her, harder than his cock, faster than the jets he once flew, her insides shuddering and quaking as if he’d hit Mach one zillion. She whimpered and soared higher, faster, swirling, the only thing keeping her on the bed was his hips pressing her into the bed.