Temptation’s Edge (12 page)

It’s just sex. Just some kinky play.

But it was much more than that, and she knew it. Had known it all along. But now it was making her panic a little. She wasn’t afraid of the whips and chains, of people watching her as these things happened, even the sex. She didn’t think that would scare her. But how Connor made her feel? That was a different matter.

He brushed another quick kiss across her knuckles, dropped her hand onto his strong thigh as the light changed and the car
moved through the wet streets. It was calming that he held on to her hand. Possessive, as he always was with her. And lovely, the heat of his big fingers wrapped around hers.

By the time they reached the Pleasure Dome her body was on fire, full of heat and need, thinking about the evening ahead. It was all doing a number on her head, and maybe that was part of his intention. She understood the mind-fuck dynamic of the dom/sub thing. Not that she was a real subbie girl in the true sense of the word. She was into the sensation, the extreme sex. That was all. Yet, it was working. His treatment of her. The sense of anticipation. The way he handled her like some rare doll as he helped her from the car.

The building was a bit imposing, one of the old converted warehouses so common around the downtown areas of Seattle. Four stories of dark gray brick with the big warehouse windows painted over.

A tall man let them through an enormous red door. The moment they stepped inside her head was spinning. She could barely take it all in. She wasn’t really paying attention to what the small foyer looked like as she stood quietly at Connor’s side while he checked in at the front desk, left their coats there. All she knew was the low throb of music, Connor’s scent as he laid a heavy arm across her shoulders and took her into the club itself. And the large black leather bag she was just now noticing he had over his shoulder. She knew what must be in there—his tools of pain and delight. She was dying to see what he had in the bag, to know what he might do to her. The idea that she was about to have this experience with
Connor
was dizzying. Maybe because she knew that he would open her up in ways she’d never been open before.

The place was a blur of heavy play equipment: enormous bondage frames made of wood and studded with metal eyebolts,
which rope could be threaded through to weave spiderweb-like patterns where people were bound. It looked like some sort of mad decoration. There were a number of spanking benches of various designs, and long padded tables with chains and padded cuffs attached to them, all done in red leather. The cleaning stations, which held spray bottles of bleach, paper towels, first-aid kits. And in between were plush red leather sofas and chairs around the edges of the low-lit room, where a few people lounged.

There were people kneeling on the floor, naked, or mostly so. All of them beautiful in their submissive poses, some with their hands raised palms up on their thighs, others with hands clasped behind their backs, or behind their collared necks. None of this was anything new. She’d seen such things at the San Francisco clubs. What was different tonight was
her
. Being there with Connor. How he made her feel.

She felt submissive, for the first time. Felt that melting sense of yielding, her mind emptying out. She realized in a small flash that maybe this was what she’d been looking for every time she’d gone to one of the clubs with a man. What she’d sought and never found. Until now.

Her throat went tight as he led her across the room, and she gripped his hand.

“You all right, darlin’?” he asked immediately.

She nodded, but he stopped where they were, peering closely at her face.

“Tell me what’s going on with you,” he demanded in a quiet voice.

She tried to shake her head but he was still watching her face, waiting for an answer. She knew by his serious expression he would stand for no argument or avoidance.

“I’m just…I feel different here. It’s not the club. That part is familiar. The equipment. The people. It’s
me
that’s different.
I’m…” She stopped, shook her head. Not because she was being stubborn, but because she didn’t know how to go on.

To her surprise, his features softened in a way that made her heart beat a little faster with something warm and lovely.

“I like that it’s different for you. I can feel it. It’s as though your body is going a little limp. It’s you giving yourself over to it. And that’s exactly what I want from you.” He paused, his tone lowering. “I can see that it’s good for you, knowing that you’re pleasing me. I understand what that’s about, even if you’re not clear on it just yet. But this is perfect, you giving yourself in this way, Mischa. It’s what has to happen in order for this evening to go as I’d planned. As I’d hoped. Because there was some doubt as to whether or not you’d be able to, wasn’t there?”

She nodded, her throat thick with emotion she didn’t understand.

“I can see how it’s affecting you,” he told her. “It’s all right, you know, to have some sort of response to this. It’s normal, in fact. I know you said you’d played before, but not at this level. And with the more extreme practices comes the more extreme response, if you’ve opened yourself to it. And you have. It’s all right for you to be scared.” He smiled then, a little wickedly. “The sadist in me loves it, in fact.”

That made her smile. He really was wicked, in exactly the right way. She wasn’t even sure she knew what she meant by that. But it was making her relax a bit, talking with him like this. Knowing he understood, even though he was doing most of the talking.

He reached out, stroked his fingertips over her cheek, touched her lower lip.

“There’s going to be another shift when I bind you. You may feel some sense of losing yourself. Just know that I’m right here with you at all times. Know that I will do everything in my power
to make it good for you. That it will be what I want, what will please me. But it will also be exactly what you need. Are you ready?”

Was she? She wasn’t one hundred percent certain. But as ready as she was going to be, maybe.

“Yes.”

“Come on, then, my girl.”

He took her by the hand and led her to one of the tall, freestanding crosses that stood almost in the middle of the room. It was a good six feet in height, with a thick pole topped by a T-bar from which hung a suspension bar with a heavy leather cuff dangling at each end.

She glanced at Connor. He swung the leather bag down, setting it on the floor to one side of the cross. He hadn’t let go of her hand.

He used his other hand at her waist to guide her to one of the red leather chairs that stood just behind the cross. He sat down, pulling her into his lap, and he started kissing her right away. His mouth on hers, hard, demanding, yet his lips, his tongue, like hot silk. He tasted a little of toothpaste. He tasted like Connor. His hand slipped under her buttocks, holding her closer, his tongue making a soft exploration of her mouth. And her body began that lovely, sensual buzz she felt whenever he kissed her, touched her.

His other hand started on her shoulder, slipped around the back of her neck, pressing there in that way he had of making her feel his command of her. It was a subtle signal, but effective. He moved down, over the side of her breast, then gathering it in his big hand.

She moaned into his mouth, arched her body, pressing into his hand. And he let her do it, cupping her breast, kneading her nipple through the fabric with his thumb, then slipping his hand into
the neckline of her dress, beneath her bra, and finding her hardening nipple with his fingertips.

He pressed the rigid nub of flesh, rubbed it, took it between his fingers and tugged. Pleasure swarmed her, making her wet with need. She squirmed in his lap and he shifted until she could feel the solid ridge of his erection beneath her thigh. She squirmed again, pressing onto his hard cock. He kissed her harder, began to really pinch her nipple, making it hurt, sending stinging currents through her body. But the pain was pure pleasure, simmering in her system, sharp and lovely.

She was growing wetter and wetter. Needing to be touched, wanting her clothes off. As if he could hear her thoughts he slid his hands down to the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head, taking his mouth from hers to do it.

“Oh…”

She arched, needing to feel his body against hers. The air was wonderful on her almost bare skin.

“You are beautiful, Mischa. Fucking gorgeous. There are a number of eyes on you already, sweetheart. They envy me. I can see it in the way they stare. No, don’t look. Look only at me. Simply know they’re there. I want you to focus.”

She swallowed, nodded. Her pulse was racing.

He gathered her breasts in his hands, pushing them together. “How did you know I’d love this on you? So damn sexy. But let’s have it off, shall we?”

He unsnapped the catch in one deft motion, and in moments her breasts were free of the small scrap of silk and lace.

“Ah, that’s better. You have the most spectacular breasts.” He gathered them again, cupping the weight of them.

She moaned.

“Your skin is like satin. I love the way you feel. The flesh so
heavy. So full.” He brushed his fingertips over her nipples, and they grew impossibly hard. Then he twisted them, making her gasp. Somehow, they went even harder.

“Ah, you love this. Your body speaks for you.”

Before she had a chance to answer he thrust his hand between her thighs, beneath her silky underwear, into the wet, heated folds of her sex.

“Oh!”

“Beautiful, how wet you are. Look at me, now. Hold on to my shoulders and look into my eyes as I work your sweet pussy a bit.”

She did it, hardly believing she was being so compliant, even as she knew she couldn’t be anything else with him right now. It was hard to hold still while he did exactly as he said: worked her with his fingers. He had two inside her, his thumb circling her clitoris. Pleasure was a keen buzzing in her body, her head. He was forcing her to keep her eyes on his, his green gaze glittering with desire. For her. It was powerful. Nearly overwhelming.

She was going to come. She dug her fingers into the bulky muscles beneath his black T-shirt.

“Ah, no you don’t, my girl.”

He slipped his fingers from her and she couldn’t help but sigh her disappointment.

He chuckled. “You didn’t think it would be so easy, did you?”

She had to smile, a little shakily. “No.”

“Up we go, then.” He stood, set her on her feet. “Let’s off with these pretties,” he said, slipping her panties down her legs, helping her to step out of them, leaving her in nothing but her black high heels.

She was so full of pleasure and need and the exquisite wonder of being close to him, having him touch her, that she hadn’t really been aware of the transition going on inside her. Perhaps that had been his intention in getting her so worked up before
putting her on the cross. But that was exactly what he was doing now: leading her to it, kissing her wrist, then placing it in one high cuff, closing it, adjusting the buckle. Then the same with her other hand, a small kiss on her wrist, closing the leather over it, both wrists bound now so that she was facing the cross. She had some vague sense that she was really going down into subspace. That lovely, ethereal place where her mind swam, emptied out of any unnecessary thought. It was all about Connor. What he was doing to her. What her body was feeling. It was sensation, response. The tangy scent of leather. The air of expectation in the room, coming, she knew, from other people who were experiencing these same things.

But these thoughts went through her mind in a flash of abstract sensation. She didn’t linger on them. It was too hard to focus on anything but Connor’s wide back as he knelt to buckle her ankles into padded leather cuffs attached to long lengths of chain, which were bolted into the wood floor. She moved one foot a little, simply to hear that primeval clank of the chain. A shiver went up her spine.

He stood, pressing his body close into her side.

“You like being strung up like this.”

“Yes,” she answered, her voice a whispering breath.

“You look damn beautiful.” His accent was thick. “You look like heaven. I’m going to do some very bad things to you. And also some very good things. And soon it won’t matter whether it’s good or bad. It’ll all be good.”

He pulled back enough so that she could see the gleam in his eyes, how the lights caught the gold flecks in them, making them shine. She felt beautiful, more than she ever had in her life. She felt proud of her curvy body, her nakedness. The way she must look, bound in chains, her body stretched out with her arms over her head and spread wide.

“Every eye is on you, including mine. I can barely stand to tear my gaze away to dig in my bag, but I’m going to do it. To find my tools, lay them out for use. I want you to hold very still while I do it. To breathe as I showed you before. To close your eyes and get inside your head. Come on now, close them.”

He brushed gentle fingers over her eyelids, forcing them closed. She did as he’d instructed, taking a deep breath into her lungs, blowing it out, focusing on the way her wrists and ankles felt in the cuffs. How it felt to be bound. She felt calm in some odd way, knowing Connor was right there.

There was a sharp snap, a wisp of wind at her back and startled, she laughed, knowing instantly he meant to get her attention.

He came up behind her, wrapped his hand around the back of her neck. His face was next to hers. “Ah, you like that, do you? You’ll like it even better when I use it on you.”

She had no idea what he held in his hand—whip or flogger or cat-o-nine tails. But she felt ready for anything.
Wanted
it.

Had she ever wanted anything so badly in her life? She didn’t think so. Could hardly think at this moment of anything
but
the moment. Her nakedness, being at the club. Being there with Connor. The lovely and wicked things he would do to her tonight.

She didn’t want to question her need, the yearning that was an almost palpable scent in the air. The yearning for Connor. To have him touch her. Bring her pleasure. Bring her pain.