Living in Sin (Living In…) (12 page)

His movements became slow and focused. “Remember what I am, ballerina.” His breath feathered over her thighs, adding to the sensations. “Remember to trust me.”

Yes. He was the music, wasn’t he? Which meant she had to.

Lily flung an arm over her hot face as his tongue slicked over her again, as she felt his fingers twist then curl inside her, the friction increasing, until the pleasure burst through her in an overwhelming flood, pushing her off that cliff…falling and falling, tearing a scream from her as she fell.

Afterwards she lay there against the couch, her arm heavy over her face. She felt hot and sweaty, like moving was an impossibility. The warmth of Kahu’s body between her legs shifted and she blinked as he pulled her arm away from her face.

His gaze was hungry. “On your feet.”

Stand? After that? He had to be kidding.

“I don’t think—” she began, her voice croaky.

But he was reaching for her, lifting her up from the couch and setting her on her feet, his hands on her hips to steady her. Dazed, she looked up at him, the breath catching in her throat as he fisted his hand in her hair, pulling her head back. He didn’t give her a moment to speak or get her bearings, his mouth coming down on hers in another soul-stealing kiss. Except this time it wasn’t gentle like the last one had been. This one was hard and hungry, demanding a response.

She could taste herself on his mouth and instinctively she wanted to pull back, but his hand was in her hair, keeping her right where he wanted her. And God, the kiss was so hot. So intense. It turned her inside out.

He devoured her like she was his favorite dessert, holding her still, his other hand in the small of her back. And she was surrounded, his tall, powerful body at her front, his arms curved around her.

Her hands rested against his chest and she could feel the hard muscle beneath the cotton of his shirt. Iron strength and heat, so much heat. And passion. And fury. It was like being in the middle of a hurricane, surrounded by a storm, overwhelmed by it, unable to resist the sheer power of it.

You can’t handle this. He’s too much for you.

A thread of fear wound through the back of her consciousness, though it was too late to stop now. She had that word she could say and she had no doubt he’d stop if she wanted him to. But saying it would mean giving up and there was no way she was doing that.

Of course there is a third way. Surrender.

Stupid. She was doing that already, wasn’t she? Wasn’t not saying that word surrendering?

Kahu released her, leaving her breathing wildly, her heartbeat out of control. The aftershocks of the orgasm he’d given her were bright bursts of electricity in her bloodstream, making her feel slow and heavy, dizzy.

His hands settled on her hips again, turning her around, unresisting, so she faced the couch with him at her back. “Legs apart and on your toes, ballerina.” His mouth was near her ear, his breath warm against her skin. “Show me your form.”

Her body was obeying before her brain had time to catch up, shifting into first position then her heels lifting, rising up on the toes of her pointe shoes. “Good girl,” he murmured approvingly. “Now put your hands on the back of the couch and bend over.”

Again she was moving before she could think about it, reaching out to balance herself against the back of the couch and bending, feeling her dress lift against the backs of her thighs as she did so. Leaving her open and exposed.

Her pulse thumped in her head, her thighs trembling. What the hell did he want with her in this position? With her legs apart and butt out?

You know…

She sucked in a breath, trying and failing to calm down.

“Stay like that,” he said.

And then she heard him move away, his footsteps fading.

Her mind was racing, her mouth dry. She felt so hot and yet at the same time she was shivering. What was happening to her? What the fuck was he doing to her?

Yet she didn’t move, holding the position, the tremble in her thighs becoming more acute, which was just ridiculous because she’d held worse positions and for longer.

Some time passed, she didn’t know how long. And then…hands, sliding up her thighs, easing her dress up to her hips. She choked out a gasp, not expecting the touch since she hadn’t heard him return.

“Easy, sweetheart,” Kahu whispered, one hand slipping between her thighs. “It’s only me.” His fingers pushed gently inside her, stretching her, drawing another moan from her. “So wet and tight. I like it. You’re all ready, ballerina.” The sound of a zipper being drawn down, the crinkle of foil. “I’m going to fuck you now so you’d better hang on tight. Because virginity or not, I’m not holding back.”

She was shaking again, every part of her. Aching for him and yet afraid. A fear she couldn’t have articulated even if she’d wanted to. Like this was a step she could never come back from if she took it.

Ballet…that’s the word. Ballet.

Kahu’s fingers between her legs, opening her. The hard press of his cock against her, delicate tissues stretching around him as he pushed into her. Relentless. Inexorable. Her body giving way before his, surrounding him.

She panted, struggling to breathe. It didn’t hurt but it was uncomfortable and there was pressure and she couldn’t work out whether the feeling was good or not.

Ballet. You can say it.

No, she didn’t want to say it. She could do this. She could handle it.

His hand slid around to her stomach, fingers spreading out over her abdomen. Holding her there. Then he pulled back and thrust. Hard.

Oh fuck. She gasped at the sensation, but he didn’t give her any time to get used to it, thrusting again, even harder.

Jesus, the feeling was…intense. A primal, raw thing that she couldn’t escape from, with his hand holding her in place as he continued to move hard and deep, making her take everything he gave her.

“Kahu…” His name was barely a cracked whisper and she didn’t even know why she’d said it.

His hand pressed harder, while the other slid up her torso to cup one breast, his thumb rubbing roughly over her nipple, the lace adding another layer of sensation to the already sensitive tip.

A strange sob sat in her throat. Because this was too much and she couldn’t deal with it. Instinct had her wanting to fight against the overwhelming pleasure, to hold out, not let her body be defeated by it. But the way it was building…so raw, fierce. She wasn’t going to be able to stop it. She was going to be swept away. Helpless.

“Kahu…please… Oh…God…I can’t…”

“You’re fighting me.” His voice, rough and low against her skin. “You’re hanging on. So don’t, understand? Let go.” His fingers on her stomach moved lower, the tip of his index finger pressing against her clit. “Give yourself to me.”

The pleasure grew teeth, becoming agonizing, digging into her skin. But how could she do that when letting go felt like losing? Like dying?

Tears started in her eyes, the sob choking her. She’d fought for so long she couldn’t give up just like that. “I can’t… Kahu, I can’t.”

“You promised me, Lily.” He was so hot against the bare skin of her butt, his hands on her hard and sure. Leaving her with nowhere to escape to. Nowhere to run. “And I’m going to hold you to that promise.”

Lily shut her eyes, her knuckles white against the back of the couch, her body drawn tight as a bow, muscles screaming. “I’m sorry,” she whispered brokenly. “I…can’t…”

His finger slid against her clit, his cock pushing deeper, shoving her forward, making her muscles have to flex to keep her balance. “I’m the music, ballerina.” Again he stroked his finger, sending white-hot pleasure rolling through her. Making her shudder. Making her burn. “Dance with me.”

Dance? How could she dance when her body was being overwhelmed?

Because you’re fighting it.

She gasped aloud, the breath leaving her lungs in a rush. Yes, he was right. She was fighting it. And not just now, she’d been fighting it ever since she’d recovered. Fighting the music. Fighting her body. Fighting her passion.

That’s why it was so hard. That’s why she’d failed her audition.

Because you don’t fight the music. You surrender to it.

Tears seeped from beneath her closed lids, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. And she loosened her grip then let go.

Pleasure burned through her, a fire overwhelming her every defense.

The sob in her throat became a moan, a cry, the hand on her stomach feeling like he was lifting her, launching her into the sky. The push of his cock inside her forcing her higher.

The ecstasy of it broke her.

“Kahu,” she whispered, ragged and raw. “Oh…Kahu…”

The climax crashed through her like a storm through a fragile glass window, shattering her, breaking her into a thousand tiny pieces.

Never to be repaired.

Chapter Ten

He felt her pussy clench tight around him, sobs racking her, and she was so hot and tight and wet it was all he could do not to lose himself in the pleasure that had a chokehold on him.

But he resisted. For the first time in years, he was in absolute fucking control and he wasn’t ready to give that up for the mindless pleasure of orgasm quite yet.

There was no rush anyway. She was his for the entire night. She’d given him the gift of both her virginity and her surrender, and he wanted to savor both as long as he could.

Slowly he stroked a hand down her graceful back, relishing the sheen of sweat under that sexy black lace dress and the hot clasp of her body around his still-hard cock.

She was panting, her head hanging down between her trembling arms, her hands clutching white-knuckled on the back of the couch.

He’d been inside many women but he couldn’t think of another time he’d felt like this, a strange combination of emotional satisfaction without the release.

Christ, she’d fought him. Fought the pleasure he was giving her. And he didn’t know why that was, but he’d managed to get her to let go, to surrender herself to it and to him. And feeling her body push back against him and hearing her sob out her climax like that had been worth everything. Made him feel like a fucking god.

Yeah, he might go to hell for screwing his business partner’s virgin daughter but, shit, he was going to go happy.

He let his palm curve over her butt, her skin smooth and silky beneath his hand. He’d said what she wanted didn’t matter, but of course it did. And being the giver of pleasure was such a rush.

Sometimes in bed with Anita, she’d let him take a dominant role but never for long enough or often enough. She’d always told him she preferred to call the shots and because he’d loved her, he’d let her.

But even in bed, doing what she told him, he’d had the sense that she was holding back from him and it had been so frustrating, driving him crazy. Like a reward she held constantly out of reach, a piece of her soul she kept hidden. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t given her everything he was, if he hadn’t broken himself wide open for her. But he had.

Lily is not Anita.

No, she wasn’t and maybe working out his own deal on her wasn’t fair. But that was too bad. This feeling of control, of power, was too good and he wanted more. He was going to push and push. Get every little piece of her. She would be his completely before this night was over and she would give herself willingly.

And he would be the one holding the reins for a fucking change.

Gently he eased himself out of her, gratified by her soft moan as he did so. She swayed, her knees buckling, so he tightened his arm around her, holding her so she didn’t fall. “Let go of the couch, Lily,” he murmured, taking the slight weight of her as she did so, her body shaking as she tried to stand upright.

Hell. She was still on her damn toes.

Remembering the bruises on her feet and the blood blister under one of her nails, he lifted her into his arms, cradling her like a child.

She kept her eyes closed, her skin deeply flushed. Red-gold curls stuck to her damp forehead and there were tears on her cheeks.

His heart caught, like a fishhook snagging on a rock. It had been intense and he’d pushed her hard for her first time. Too hard maybe.

He turned, carrying her across the lounge and through a set of double doors that led to the short hallway and his bedroom. The room was dark, the curtains pulled.

Kahu carried her across to the bed under the windows and laid her down onto it. Then he finally got rid of the condom in the wastebasket near the chest of drawers. His cock ached, wanting to be sheathed in her flesh. But he could wait. There was plenty of time for that.

He began to undress, leaving his clothes thrown over the armchair in the corner of the room before stalking naked back to the bed. Reaching up, he pulled open the curtains so the lights from outside shone on the white sheets. And on Lily in her black lace dress, her skin shining pale beneath it. Even in the dim light he caught glimpses of the soft pink of her nipples and red-gold flash of the curls between her thighs. So fucking sexy.

Her eyes opened, her gaze dark as she stared up at him. Then her attention fell, moving down over his body and he let her look, enjoying the way her lips parted as she took him in.

“You didn’t—” she began in a husky voice.

“No,” he interrupted. “But there’s a reason for that.” He leaned over her, brushing the hair back from her face. “Are you okay? Do you hurt anywhere?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Good. Stay still now.” He ran his hands down her legs, feeling the lithe, taut muscle of her thighs and calves, examining her just to make sure. “Do your feet hurt?” He’d take off her ballet shoes if they did but he liked them on her, especially the kink factor of fucking her with them on.

She shook her head, leaning back against the pillows and lifting her arms, her back arching like a cat being stroked. And he frowned, noticing something under her arm. A faint scar, standing out underneath the black lace. “Sit up. I want to take your dress off.”

Obediently, she sat, lifting her arms, waiting while he pulled the dress up and over her head. Then he pushed her gently back down again, easing her left arm away from her body, running his fingers lightly over the scar near her armpit. She stiffened.

He flicked a glance at her, noting how the lines of her face had become guarded. “Where did you get that?”

Her hand came up and brushed his fingers away in what looked like a reflexive gesture. “It’s nothing.” She turned her head, not meeting his gaze.

Obviously it wasn’t nothing.

He studied her shuttered face for a long moment. Something was going on with her, he could sense that much. Her stubborn, fighting spirit. The way she pushed. And then there was the strange way Rob treated her.

He let his fingers move lightly from the scar down over one small breast, cupping it in his hand, her nipple hardening responsively against his palm. She shivered and he heard her breath catch.

“You will tell me.” He circled her nipple with his thumb, watching her face as a dart of pleasure crossed it. “I told you I wanted everything from you and I meant it.”

“I…I thought you were only talking about sex.”

“No.” He pinched her nipple, watching as her lashes lowered, her pouty mouth opening on a sharp intake of breath. “I want your body
and
your secrets, ballerina. I don’t want you holding anything back from me.”

“Kahu—” His name ended on a low moan as he pinched her again, harder this time.

“You agreed. You’re mine tonight and that includes everything about you, understand?”

But she shook her head. “Not this. Please.”

No, he would not be merciful, not tonight. Because really, when would he ever have this chance again? When would another woman ever give herself to him freely? Willingly? Everything she was?

Probably never. Which meant this was the only night he’d ever have.

Releasing her, he got up from the bed, ignoring her surprised look.

Crossing over to the closet in the corner, he opened the door, bending to the drawer right down near the floor on the right. Where he kept certain pieces of equipment. Anita had given them to him years ago as a parting gift but he hadn’t used them. He’d never felt the inclination.

Now though, it was time.

He gathered up a few items and carried them back to the bed, sitting down on the side and setting them out on top of the sheet for her to see.

She blinked. “What are those?”

“Some inducements. You’re going to tell me what’s going on, Lily. And these are going to help. I want you to choose one for me to use on you. If you continue to hold back, I’ll add another but this time it’ll be one of my choice.”

Her gaze flickered away from his, and something shifted in his chest as he recognized it. Vulnerability. Shit, he didn’t want to see that. It exposed vulnerabilities in himself he’d long forgotten, where he too had found out what it was like to be exposed.

No one should be without defenses, you prick. Especially not this twenty-year-old girl you’re going to fuck then walk away from come morning.

He almost growled at the thought, not wanting it in his head. This was about
him
tonight, not about anything else. And it wasn’t like he was going to harm her. If she wasn’t getting off, he wouldn’t. It was as simple as that.

“These are designed for pleasure,” he said, giving her that at least. “Or to heighten it.”

She glanced down at his little collection once more. “They look painful.”

“Sometimes the pain can be a good pain.”

“Oh sure. Is there ever good pain?”

“Yes definitely, there is.”

She eyed him. “How do you know? Have you had these used on you?”

He didn’t look away. “Yes.”

“What? All of them?”

“Yes.”

“And…?”

“It felt good. They all feel good if used right.” This was another thing he was giving her, even though she didn’t realize it. The things he’d done with his clients. With Anita…

There was curiosity in her gaze. “Where did you…um…who used them on you, I mean?”

“I was a rent boy, darling,” he said. “Sucking cock wasn’t the only thing I did.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“I know you didn’t. But you don’t get to ask the questions tonight. I do.”

She flushed. “Okay. I hear you. So I guess you know how to use them then.”

“I do.”

She shifted on the bed, folding her hands into her lap, staring down at the toys on the sheet. “What if I tell you everything now?”

He watched her face, studying her, wanting to think about her rather than what had happened in his past. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking now and he wanted to. This whole thing was becoming less about a generalized someone and growing more specific to her by the minute. “Then we don’t need to use any of these things.”

She nodded, red-gold curls falling over her shoulder with the movement. “In that case…” Leaning forward, she picked up the vibrator. “I know what this is. I’m okay with it.”

An odd sense of pride joined the satisfaction sitting in his gut. She may be as stubborn as hell but she was brave too and he liked that. “That’s a good choice. But for the record, I’m aiming to use all of these on you tonight at some point.”

Her eyes widened. “Not those.” She gestured to the soft leather flogger and the nipple clamps. “Please.”

“We’ll see. But because you chose easily, I get to pick something.”

“But—”

“Protest and I’ll take that flogger to your backside.”

She shut her mouth and it was amazing how good her instant obedience made him feel. The calm focus began to return, the anticipation building inside of him, and the determination. He would have this from her. He would.

Kahu picked up the handcuffs, the last remaining piece of equipment. “Hold out your hands.”

She stared at them then lifted her gaze to his, and he could see the change and shift of her emotions. The fear warring with the desire. She wanted this but she’d never done it before and so she was afraid.

“You trusted me before, ballerina,” he murmured, reminding her. “This is no different.” He specifically didn’t touch her now, wanting this from her willingly, no manipulations. And when she slowly put her hands out to him, he found his breath catching, his heartbeat loud in his ears.

He should say something, acknowledge her gift somehow, but he didn’t know quite how. So instead he took each of her hands in his and turned her palms up, bent and kissed the center of each one. Then he snapped the handcuffs around one wrist.

She was looking at him, wide-eyed.

“Lie down,” he said. “Hands above your head.”

Slowly, she did so, allowing him to loop the handcuffs around the rail at the top of his iron bedstead and imprison her other wrist, clicking it shut.

He looked down at her, at the picture she made with her bright hair spilling over his pillows, her hands locked to his bed, pale and slender and achingly beautiful.

Yours.

That sense of satisfaction deepened. As if he’d been waiting for this moment for years, maybe his whole life. To have someone who was his, who’d given themselves up freely into his care, into his protection.

Jesus, it’s like she sees more in you than just a broken down ex-prostitute.

Kahu ignored the voice. It didn’t matter what he was or who he might once have been. What mattered was that Lily was his for the night and he was going to make sure she didn’t regret that choice.

He would be hard on her to get what he wanted. He would push. But she wasn’t going to get nothing out of this deal, he’d make sure of that.

Getting on to the bed, Kahu straddled her, his knees on either side of her hips. Her eyes widened as he did so but she didn’t move, watching him. He leaned forward, putting one hand beside her head, looking down into her face and then at the scar under her arm. He ran a light finger down it, tracing it gently.

She shivered, her throat moving as she swallowed.

“What is this, Lily?” He traced it again. “How did you get it?”

“A tree scratched me when I was a kid.”

He paused, studying her. She wasn’t looking at him, her gaze off to the side beyond his shoulder. She was lying, he’d bet anything on it.

Slowly, he pushed himself back up and without a word reached behind him to pick up the flogger.

“Hey,” Lily said thickly. “I didn’t say you could—”

“You’re lying to me, ballerina. So I’m adding another toy of my choice. And this is what I choose.”

Her body had stiffened, her mouth open as she stared at the flogger in his hand. “Kahu, I don’t think I—”

“It’s okay, I’m not going to hit you with it.” Pain wasn’t the best thing to start off with right now, but getting her used to the toy wouldn’t hurt. He bent over her again, trailing the leather ends across her breasts, hearing her breath catch. “Just a touch, sweetheart.” He swept it over her again, the ends brushing across the scar. “It wasn’t a tree, was it, Lily?”