Mikalo's Grace (15 page)

"He makes the movies," he said. "I know him
now for many years.

"He is a wonderful man who enjoys the company
of other wonderful men," he continued. "And now he offers you and
me his home.

"That is sweet, no?"

"Very sweet," I answered, wandering into the
bedroom, a room larger than most Manhattan apartments, a massive
four-poster bed at its center, more luxury underfoot and overhead
and all around.

Mikalo wandered in.

"It is okay?"

"Okay?" I responded, trying not to laugh.
"Oh, I think it'll do."

And, getting the joke, he laughed, too.

"We shall make it rough for three days,
no?"

I moved close, wrapping my arms around
him.

"Make it rough?" I said, my lips close to
his. "I like the sound of that."

"Maybe the saying, it is wrong."

"No, no," I interrupted. "It's perfect."

He furrowed his brown.

"No," he said. "It is roughing it. That is
right. What I wanted to say."

"Either way," I said, my hand reaching low to
caress him through his jeans, "You have my attention."

He stepped back, his hands on my shoulders as
looked at me, his eyes searching mine.

"Know that I would never hurt you," he then
said. "Know that you are always safe and loved. Know that you have
my heart and my body. My kisses.

"Is this something you know?" he then
asked.

I nodded.

I then moved close to kiss him.

He accepted it, his hand gently moving down
my arm to my waist and then my hip, the fingers snaking around to
rest on my ass.

I sighed, my lips still on his.

"I trust you," I whispered, my voice shaking.
"I trust you and I know you'd never do anything to hurt me. I get
that now, Mikalo. I do."

"That is good, my Grace," he said, his words
hot on my lips. "And now we must get you undressed."

His fingers started unbuttoning my shirt.

I reached for him.

He pulled away.

"No," he said firmly. "You will stand
silently. I will take the clothes from you. And you will not touch
me or speak or kiss me.

"This is understood?" he then asked.

Oh my god, this was going to drive me
crazy.

I nodded, that familiar tingle down below
distracting me as I grew wet.

He finished unbuttoning my blouse, shrugging
my arms free and then slipping the delicate fabric from my
body.

His fingers slowly traced my skin, lightly,
stealing my breath as his hands traveled up my body and then to the
lace covering my breasts, his fingers expertly removing my bra.

He bent his head low, his hand pushing these
twin globes together as he buried his face in my cleavage and
inhaled deeply, his lips then traveling over the sensitive, pale
skin, avoiding my nipples, his touch coming nowhere near the hungry
nubs of pink flesh.

I reached up to grab his head, the thought of
gripping his dark locks in my fingers obsessing me.

Pulling away, he scolded me.

"No, my Grace. Stand still and quiet. I will
do this and you, you will enjoy."

I wanted to groan in frustration. But I
nodded, my hands hanging at my sides.

He kneeled before me, lifting first one foot,
quickly undoing the strap and releasing my shoe, and then the
other, the strap undone, the chic Manolo tossed aside.

Burying his face in my waist, he moaned, his
hands trailing up and down my legs, the fingers searching for the
snap at the side of my skirt.

It came free, the pencil-striped gray falling
to my ankles.

Again, he inhaled my scent as I stepped free
from the skirt, the thin lace now covering me damp .

This he kissed, his lips delicately tracing
the band and then dipping lower, inhaling me, his tongue darting
forward to lightly taste before he hooked his fingers around the
thin fabric and pulled it free.

I stood waiting, naked.

Looking up at me, his fingertips still
lightly tracing my flesh, my legs, my stomach, behind my knees and
up to my breasts, he spoke.

"The small box, it is for you."

The what?

I watched him.

"I'm sorry?"

"The small box," he repeated, nodding toward
the bed. "It is for you."

I looked, noticing the ribbon bound box
waiting in the center of the bed.

I hadn't even seen it when I first walked
in.

"No," he said, catching me as I moved.

I smiled.

Oh, this was getting too good.

"May I, Mikalo?"

He smiled.

"Yes," he whispered. "You may."

I walked to the bed and, lifting the box,
unwrapped it and took the top off.

Looking inside, I paused, confused, and then
looked at him.

He reached out his hand and took it from
me.

Standing, he moved close. Almost close enough
to kiss, his lips so, so near.

"Lie down."

I did, the bed cradling me, the expensive
duvet beneath my skin soft and luxurious.

Watching him, he reached in the box and took
out strips of silk.

He held them up to show me, the shiny fabric
catching the light as he gripped them in his fist.

"And now trust, my Grace."

Chapter
Thirty-Eight

I was bound.

My wrists above my head and to the side,
wrapped in silk, the ends tied securely to the bed. My legs spread,
more silk wound 'round my ankles and, again, tied tight.

I could barely move.

And the fifth strip of strong fabric, the
final strip, wrapped around my head to cover my eyes, the world
around me, this strange place in this stranger's house in this
stranger's bed, all of it now complete and total darkness.

I was defenseless, vulnerable, naked.

The scent of him filled my nose as he leaned
in close, my Mikalo, his lips close to mine, his presence a
comfort.

"I love you," came the words from the
dark.

"And I --"

His kiss, probing and deep, his tongue
hungry, extinguished my words, robbing them of their oxygen or
their need to be heard.

I returned the kiss, straining against the
silk, desperate to feel him, to see him, to watch him in that
inevitable moment when he would pause, throbbing inside me.

Beneath me, I could feel the bed grow wet as
my heat grew.

"Trust," he whispered again as he pulled away
briefly.

And then his lips were on me again, ravenous,
desperate. His teeth on my lips, his tongue deep in my mouth, his
hands on my breasts, his tongue lapping my calf and the back of my
knee.

Wait, what?

I stopped and then tried to pull away.

He refused, forcing me back, his tongue in my
mouth as this stranger, this second tongue, slowly licked my calf,
his strong hands gently caressing my feet, the thick fingers
slipping between my toes before trailing up my instep to my
ankle.

Mikalo continued to kiss me, his fingers
pinching first one nipple and then the second, his hand then
gripping my breast, squeezing it and holding it firm.

His mouth still on me, I felt another mouth
suddenly suckling me, the breast in Mikalo's hand a gift offered to
a new stranger, the man drawing the nipple deep as it grew warm,
the sensitive teat teased and tortured by his teeth.

I gasped, the sound lost in Mikalo's kiss,
the stranger below now slowly, oh so slowly, licking his way up
from my calves and from behind my knees, the stubble on his chin
and around his lips and on his cheeks rough against the inside of
my thighs.

The man at my breast paused, rolling the
nipple between his fingers as he pushed his face deep into the
flesh, inhaling deeply.

Mikalo was now kissing my face, my cheek, his
lips trailing down my neck and finally to my breast, the stranger
drawing my other nipple deep as Mikalo did the same.

Oh holy fuck.

The third man, down below, was tracing his
fingers through my wetness, opening me, the long, thick digits
slipping in and then out, testing my desire, breathing in my heat,
patiently discovering my secrets, his face close, so, so close that
I could feel his breath.

A hand was now on my head, guiding me,
turning me to the side.

Mikalo at my breast, a second stranger at the
other, a third below, and now a fourth parting my lips with his as
his tongue searched my mouth.

Hands on my stomach, fingers running down my
flesh, lips and teeth on my nipples, fingers opening me up
below.

I could feel the storm building.

A light burst of cool air teased my heat as
the stranger between my legs blew a single, slow stream of air to
quiet my desire.

And then his lips were on me.

Oh my god.

I writhed as his tongue dove deep, his need
parting me, his hands, his strong, rough hands, easily holding my
legs open, holding them apart, my secrets now captive to him.

Mikalo was off my nipple, his tongue trailing
down my side as he rolled his flat palm over my breast, the
friction causing me to gasp into the fourth stranger's mouth as he
continued to kiss me.

And then he was off my mouth, this stranger,
his lips, the hint of stubble on his chin, the scent of sweat
lingering under clean soap tickling my nose, trailing down my neck,
his mouth quickly on my nipple as he drew it deep.

This time my gasp was heard, the sound
filling the room.

And again, another stranger, a new stranger's
mouth on mine, as the man sucked me deep, the other man working my
other nipple between his teeth, and the one below licking and
lapping and sucking and tasting my growing wetness, the
thump-thump-thump resonating against his lips, his hands trapping
my legs, holding them open.

I was going to cum.

Moaning, I pushed my hips up, forcing myself
against the stranger's mouth.

He moaned in return, a deep, masculine sound.
Like thunder, the rumbling a new, delicious sensation against my
sensitive, throbbing heat.

A mouth taken again from my breast, the pink
nugget now being twisted and pinched and turned between a thick
thumb and forefinger, lips once more tasting the sweat on my neck,
the stubble scratching me as a tongue returned to kiss me long and
deep.

The other stranger, still at my nipple, had
run his hand down my stomach, his thick, long fingers inching
closer to my heat, the man below moving his mouth lower, allowing
this co-conspirator access.

He rubbed me once, twice, and then a quick
slap.

My hips bucked, my moan lost deep in the
stranger's mouth.

Teeth scraped my nipple as he sucked, the one
whose fingers had slapped and now parted my heat for the man below,
the kisser having returned, his lips close to mine, his breath hot
as he patiently hovered over me, just out of reach.

I lifted myself, pushing my face forward, my
lips meeting his.

He smiled, the full lips curling into a grin
against mine.

And below, the man with the talented tongue
continued to taste and lap, licking down one side and then
patiently licking up the other before returning to the middle, his
tongue insistent and hungry as it dove deep into my heart.

Fingers. Yes, fingers now inside me, slipping
in my wetness, discovering my heat, the digits spreading as first
one and then two and then three slid deep, opening me even
more.

I moaned. Again.

I writhed. Again.

My hips bucked and I gasped and I felt the
familiar thump-thump-thump as the storm rolled closer.

Oh yes, I was going to cum.

And the stranger below knew it.

His fingers worked me, his tongue licked and
lapped and tasted, the others sucked and pinched and kissed,
tongues diving deep, their breath hot against my sweaty skin.

My legs were shaking, even beneath the
inescapable grip of the stranger's strong hands.

Taking his fingers from me, he slapped. Quick
and hard.

My hips lifted.

I moaned.

Another deep kiss quieted me.

The fingers then rubbed me, side to side, the
sound of my wetness mixing with my gasps and groans and wordless,
desperate pleas.

Faster and faster they rubbed, side to side
and back again. Back and forth, back and forth, the other men
sucking harder, the fourth stranger assaulting my mouth with his
tongue, his strong hand cradling my head as I writhed and bucked,
the restraints holding tight as my muscles clenched.

His mouth was on me again, the man below. His
tongue moving fast, flicking and tasting, sucking my wetness, his
chin, his nose, his face coated with my desire as he rubbed himself
against me.

Fingers inside me. Fast and hard and deep.
Rudely plunging only to stop, the unexpected pause torturing me and
sending me over the edge.

I came, hard, the wetness warming my skin as
it spilled from me.

My legs shaking, my body clenching, my breath
lost in this stranger's mouth, I screamed and then screamed again,
the mouths taken from my breasts, their palms flat as they rubbed
my nipples, the stranger below riding the wave with me as he drank
me deep, my heat throbbing against his mouth, his fingers, his
face.

The first storm ended, the wave having
crested and crashed.

I gasped, steadying myself. Willed myself
calm, aware the mouths now gently kissed, the tongues gently
licked, the strangers pausing as my heart raced and the spasms
still rolled through me, my hips still trembling.

The man below moved his mouth from me, the
strangers at my breasts shifting their own positions, leaving my
wounded flesh open to the air.

The final stranger cradling my head remained,
his lips lightly kissing my cheeks and grazing over my forehead
.

The one below rose to his knees, his chest
now near mine.

Yes, I could feel the weight of him hovering
over me, one arm to the side as he balanced, his breath now warming
my face.