Living in Shadow (Living In…) (22 page)

“You can’t do this,” he said desperately. “You don’t understand what I am.”

“I understand what you think you are. And you’re wrong, Luc. You’re so fucking wrong.” She crossed the space between them and he wanted to back away to protect her from himself. And yet at the same time he wanted to hold on to her with everything he had.

“Yes, you’ve killed, but you’re not a killer. You’re a good man, strong, a survivor. Someone who lived in hell and who came back alive. But, honey…” she put a hand on his chest before he could stop her, “…no one who’s lived in hell is without scars. No one comes out of that untouched.”

He didn’t want her to touch him, didn’t want her to start bringing him back to life again. And yet…he couldn’t seem to bring himself to step back. “I’m dangerous, Eleanor. I’m… I can’t…”

Her hand didn’t move, only rested on his chest like a hot coal, burning him. And he didn’t want to look at her, naked and beautiful in front of him, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. He’d always thought of her as the sun. Even at night she was bright. She had the moon and the whole fucking Milky Way galaxy in her eyes.

“Here’s the deal, honey,” she said very softly. “I love you. And I’m not leaving you alone. Not ever again.”

When was the last time someone had told him they loved him? Too long.

He could feel the longing pushing against his throat, pushing against his heart. A desperation that went bone deep. That didn’t want detachment, that didn’t want numbness.

That was tired of being alone in the dark.

“Soleil…”
he whispered and he didn’t even know what he was pleading for this time. For her to leave or for her to stay.

She took her hand from his chest.

And dropped to her knees at his feet.

She didn’t know if he’d understand what she was doing, what she was offering. But she couldn’t push him into this. He’d been forced into so many things; this had to be a choice he made consciously.

And in order to make it, he had to overcome the fear that he was one of those soldiers. One of those killers.

She kept her head bowed, her gaze on the floor. Hoping and praying.

Then his hand on her head, gentle, causing a shudder to go right through her.

“I can’t trust myself,” he murmured. “Not with you.”

“You don’t have to trust yourself. You only have to trust me.”

Luc didn’t move and for a long time there was only silence, his hand on her head. And she could feel the tremors in his fingers as they rested in her hair.

The darkness of the blindfold had been terrifying after Piers but she had no fear when it came to Luc. He’d covered her eyes the night she’d told him what had been done to her and though she’d been scared, she’d pushed through it.

Now she wanted to reclaim the anticipation of the unknown she used to love. And with it, restore his trust in himself, as he’d helped her restore hers.

“You have my absolute trust,” she said quietly into the silence, reminding him she was there. “But now I need you to give me yours…Sir.” She hadn’t said that word in a very long time but it felt right now. Felt good.

The fingers in her hair stilled. “Stand by the bed.” His voice sounded rough.

Hope uncurled inside her, but she didn’t let it show on her face, not wanting to give in to it too soon, rising to her feet and doing what he said.

He followed her and she saw him reach down, pick up the blindfold from where she’d laid it on top of the bedclothes.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have mentioned punishment straight-up like she had. But it was too late now. She was committed.

“You remember your safe word?”

“Yes.” Bracing herself for the darkness, Eleanor closed her eyes in preparation.

The material came over her face, soft against her skin, and she felt him knot the ties at the back of her head firmly. She had to force herself to breathe slowly, in through her nose and out through her mouth, fighting through the instinctive panic.

His palm came to rest at her nape, his fingers around her neck, exerting a subtle pressure. The hold centered her, the panic vanishing completely to be replaced by a new and much more pleasurable tension. Anticipation.

“Lie down,” Luc instructed, his hands guiding her onto the bed and down against the crisp cotton of the sheets. “Hands above your head.”

She did so, more soft fabric binding her as he tied her wrists together.

Oh yes.

She lay there breathing fast, tied and blindfolded, blackness in front of her, shivering as nervous tension chased over her skin. Waiting.

God, she remembered how much she’d got off on this. How she’d loved the psychological aspect of not knowing what was going to happen, of not being able to move. It had been intense and now…somehow it was even better. Because of Luc.

“Sir?” she asked, testing him.

“I’m not your Sir.” His voice came from down at the end of the bed. He must be standing there, watching her.

Her sex clenched at the thought of his gaze on her as she lay there helplessly on the bed.

“Yes you are. The first time you gave me an order, held my hands behind my back, you were mine. You want this as badly as I do. You crave it just as much. And you need it like I need it. So why don’t you give us both what we want?”

“I can’t, Eleanor. You should find someone else.”

“I don’t want anyone else. You’re the only one I’d let do this to me. You belong to me, whether you like it or not, like I belong to you.” She took a shaky breath. “Sir, please…”

There was a long silence and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath as she waited for him to reply.

“Fuck, Eleanor May.” Luc’s voice was rough edged. “You’re a bad girl coming here and not leaving when I told you to go. Thinking you’re safe with me.” The bed moved and she gasped aloud as she felt him lean over her all of a sudden, his mouth near her ear. “And most especially you’re bad for loving me,
soleil
.” His hand trailed down over the curve of her abdomen, between her thighs, fingers brushing the outer lips of her sex. She gasped again, fire shooting through her. “Because I’m not worthy of that kind of gift. But…” he stroked her and through the haze of pleasure she heard the catch in his voice, “…I want to be. Oh, Eleanor, I want to be.”

“You are,” she murmured. “A killer deals in death, Luc. Not pleasure. Not caring. Not tenderness. And those are the things you’ve given me. Your strength, your command, your control gives me pleasure, never pain. Don’t ever doubt it. So why don’t you show me how I belong to you? How you own me?”

His breath was warm on her skin, his body still over hers. Then he said, “Keep still,” and he moved away.

Trembling, Eleanor stayed where she was. She wasn’t going to move. She was going to do exactly what he said, no matter what that was. Ready for anything.

It felt like she lay there for a long time with nothing but silence for company, tension pulling her muscles tighter and tighter.

“Legs apart.” His voice came quite suddenly, and shock made her have to take a moment to process the order.

But he didn’t give her a moment, powerful fingers on her thighs pushing them wide.

She sucked in a breath, only to have all the air escape as something that felt both cold and burning at the same time brushed against one nipple.

“What are you doing?” she asked, panting, trying to twist away.

“I told you to keep still.”

She tried to do what he told her as another pass of that cold thing slid over one nipple then the other, her brain struggling to make sense of it.

Ice…

He circled the ice cube around her stiff, aching nipples before moving it lower, over her stomach. Goose bumps rose everywhere, desire a hard, tight knot down low inside her.

The fact that he was silent, that he didn’t explain himself or wait for her to protest, meant something.

He was trusting her the way she was trusting him.

Her heartbeat accelerated, hope and fear and desire tangling inside her. And love, a wild burst of it burning in her veins.

She trembled. “Sir…”

He shifted on the bed, a warm hand covering her mouth, silencing her. “You’ve been bad, Eleanor. Disobeyed my direct orders. And that means you need to be punished.” The ice cube tracked a cold, burning path down to her hip then over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “I’m going to tease you, tantalize you, but you’re not allowed to come. If you do come, I won’t let you have my cock. Nod once if you understand.”

She nodded, trying to restrain the urge to lick his palm.

“Good,” he said, removing his hand from her mouth. The ice cube moved slowly closer to her sex, the pleasure/pain of the cold making her shake. “Remember, if you want me to stop, you only have to say the word.”

She gave a second, sharp nod, the darkness behind the blindfold beginning to flame.

Delicious anticipation had begun to build and along with it the desire to prove herself to him. To show him that she was as worthy of his trust as he was of hers.

She tried to stay strong as the ice cube traced the outer lips of her pussy, moaning, her hips lifting helplessly. But the contrast of the biting cold against her heated skin was so intense she couldn’t stop shaking. Especially when he slid the cube against her clit, pleasure/pain pulsing through her.

Colors leapt behind her closed lids, flaring brightly in the dark as the sensations layered one on top of the other. As he ran the ice cube down her center, his finger taking its place at her clit.

Holy Christ, she wasn’t going to survive this.

She bit her lip hard to stop the orgasm that threatened, determined to obey him. To show him she could do what he wanted.

And right when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, his touch vanished, leaving her shivering on the bed, her skin sensitized and burning.

The sound of her breathing was harsh in the silence.

Then the bed dipped again, intense cold meeting intense heat as she felt him push the ice cube inside her.

She said his name on a gasp as she felt warm breath on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. A gasp that turned into a cry as his mouth covered her sex.

The burning pleasure became white-hot, molten, as he pushed his tongue deep inside her, tasting her.

“Oh…Jesus…” Her voice didn’t sound like her own, thick and ragged.

Arching her hips, she tried to move, only to feel herself suddenly hauled up, his arms wrapping her waist, her legs over his shoulders, his tongue pushing even deeper.

“Luc!” Another cry burst from her.

She wasn’t allowed to come. She wasn’t supposed to. And she fought it like a tiger.

But he was relentless, devouring her, overwhelming her so completely she was helpless to stop the climax that smashed over her. Sobbing as she was washed away, with nothing to hold on to except him.

He couldn’t wait. He didn’t want to wait. The taste of her was still on his tongue and she was quivering, naked in his arms, and all he wanted to do was blind her with even more pleasure, give her everything he could.

It didn’t matter that she’d disobeyed him and come without his permission. What she’d given him when she’d handed him that blindfold, when she’d told him he was hers, was more important than punishment.

Her belief that he wouldn’t hurt her, that he’d stop when she said her safe word, made him want to honor that trust. Made him want to be worthy of it.

Made him understand what it meant to trust himself. And make amends for how he’d scared her. Hurt her.

Lowering her to the bed, he slipped from it, pulling his clothes off before coming back to kneel once more between her spread thighs.

Her whole body was pink, and there were tears on her flushed cheeks, glinting from underneath the blindfold.

He leaned over her, wiping away the tears with his fingers then moving lower to where the ribbon of blood stained her pale skin. Moisture gleamed at her throat, sweat from her pleasure. He wiped the blood away with her tears, with her sweat, wiped her clean.

Jesus…this woman…she made him everything he’d ever wanted to be.

Reaching over to the nightstand, he grabbed a condom from the drawer. Protecting himself with shaking hands, he then leaned forward and pulled the tie from around her wrists, freeing her. She groaned, her hands coming up to his chest.

He didn’t stop, trusting her to say the word if she needed to, but she didn’t. So he pressed into her slick heat, feeling her pussy close around his cock, gripping him tight, and he shuddered, unable to breathe for a second.

Her hands pressed harder. “I want to see you.”

“No.” It felt as if it were too much, to watch her face. To see her come. As if he wouldn’t be able to bear it.

“Please.”

At this point he could deny her nothing. Reaching up, he pushed up the blindfold, revealing her flushed face. And her eyes…they weren’t dark. They burned silver.

His heart kicked hard inside his chest. And he couldn’t look away, staring down into her face as he began to move. Slow. Deep. Her hands slid up his arms, around behind his neck, her legs wrapping around his waist. Holding him tight. Surrounding him.

The cracks through his soul began to shudder. And it wasn’t because he was falling apart. It was because a dark shell he hadn’t even realized was there was beginning to disintegrate. And there was something underneath it.

Something shining. Golden.

He bent his head, burying his face in her neck as the shell broke apart revealing the shining thing at the center of him. The thing that had been there all along, from the moment he’d seen her.

Love.

As it shone in his soul, she held him. And when it burned away the dark shell of the man he’d once been, he let it.

Chapter Fifteen

She could feel him shudder, the storm breaking through him, and she didn’t let go, holding him tight. Even afterwards she didn’t loosen her arms around him, didn’t stop stroking the smooth skin of his back, feeling all his muscles relax against her. He was heavy but she didn’t care. She just wanted to anchor him somehow.

“Hey,” he said thickly, some time later. “Can you give me a minute?”