Wrecked (The Blackened Window) (11 page)

In just a few minutes, I panted under that touch and he climbed back onto the couch, on top of me with his knees on either side of my thighs. He sat back on my legs and continued with both hands on my rib cage, rubbing up and down my sides, coming blissfully close to my breasts without touching them. I was restrained by his body on my legs and his belt lashing my wrists together, and it forced me to focus on what he was doing. His touch, his
nearness
and my agreement not to speak. Without having the distraction of my own wants or my own attempts to do something, my focus was completely undivided.

He traced his hands down to the button on my jeans, fingertips grazing the edge and dipping inside just a bit. I drew a sharp breath. I wanted him to tear my jeans off and plow into me. At the same time, I never wanted him to stop what he was doing. And the stray thought crossed my mind again, that I had only known him for a short time, maybe this was too much too soon. He leaned over and traced the line of my jeans around the sides of my body and under me, rubbing with a deeper pressure into the muscles of my low back.

A low moan slipped past my lips
and I dropped any other thought. At my moan, his breathing became more pressured and I glanced at him. His face was set in lines of calm concentration, but when his gaze flicked to mine, it was heated. He brought his hands back around to the front of my body, over my jeans to my hip bones, gripping them and rocking my body side to side slowly. It centered my focus on my pelvis and my wetness grew, the beginning of an electrical awareness of my pussy, just begging to be touched.

I was starting to get impatient and made a little whining sound deep in my throat. He watched me, almost detached, nearly distant, but not gone, not empty. He sensed my impatience and quickly brought his hands up the sides of my body to my shoulders as he lay down across me. He filled my field of vision and it was too intense. I closed my eyes to escape it, but he said, “Open your eyes. I want you right here with me. I want to see every reaction.” His voice rolled over me, warm, liquid.

Another moan slipped from my lips. He brought his fingers to my lips and traced them. All the while, I was almost outside myself, fascinated with him, unsure where he was leading me.

“You were supposed to be quiet, but maybe I wasn’t completely clear, baby girl. No sounds at all, unless you are using your safewords or responding to me. Do you understand me?”

I nodded my head.
No sounds at all?
Then it was all I could think of, the enormity of this man’s presence over me, the heat and electricity of my skin under his touch and not making a sound. Any clinical detachment of my own was gone, and I started moving under him, grinding my hips up into him, trying to get my legs out from under him, without success. He leaned down on me harder and I could feel the rock-hard bulge of his erection against me. I wanted it so bad. He traced his fingers across my collarbone again while nuzzling his scratchy chin into my neck.

I stretched up, attempting to kiss or suck or bite his neck and, without even minimally pausing what he was doing, he brought a hand up to my chest, right over my sternum and pushed me back down, growling into my ear, “Don’t move, baby girl.”

My reactions to him were so confusing—there was a rush of fear, but the excited fear of a rollercoaster ride, and the intense want for anything he wanted to do to me. This was so unlike the drunken and desperate frat-boy fumblings in college. This was methodical, intentional. He was completely in control of himself despite the hard-on digging into my pelvis. It was as if he had no intention of getting himself off, like he just wasn’t worried about his own experience.

The hand on my chest slipped up to my jaw, turning my head to allow him full access to my neck. That hand then traveled up my arms to my bound hands, grabbing the loops of his belt between my wrists and tightening his grip, and consequently, tightening the pressure on my wrists. His other hand continued traveling up and down my curves, light and completely maddening. All I could do was accept—accept all of what he gave me, accept how he played with me. I shuddered another sigh and willed myself to relax into it.

When I thought I was going to lose my mind with how much I wanted him and the sensations all over my body, he sat back up, pulling my tied wrists with him so that I was sitting up as well. Without speaking, he climbed off the couch and pulled me to standing, then turned me so that I was facing the couch.

“Stay right there. Don’t move.” I felt his absence behind me and a moment later heard him in the kitchen. The refrigerator or freezer opening and closing again. “Mmm, good girl,” he said as he came back. I heard something I was sure was ice clink into his glass, now emptied of Sangria.
What is he going to do with
ice
?

“Now, for your punishment.” He stepped up behind me, his hand on the back of my neck and his lips at my ear, speaking in a growly purr. I couldn’t fucking breathe. “You stayed up past your bedtime. You need enough sleep to be healthy and you’re going to have to learn to listen.”

I started to turn my head to him to let him know what I thought of that, all sexual tension forgotten for a moment, but he caught my jaw in his hand, refusing to let me turn. “No talking, but I think that might be too hard for you. I can help. Open your mouth.”

Again, I obeyed him before I even really thought about it. He stepped behind me, left hand still on my jaw and right coming around to put an ice cube in my mouth. Once it was in, he sealed his left hand over my mouth, but left my nose unblocked. I felt myself tense at this next level of intensity, feeling so restrained and confined in him. With his hands on my face, his body was pressed tight against me and it felt like he was surrounding me in every direction. My mouth was so cold and his hand clamped on me kept me from moving. He stepped back to my left side, shifting his left hand on my mouth. His right hand traced over my skin to the back of my neck and started pushing me forward.

“Still green, baby girl? You can nod yes.”

I nodded.

“If you need me to stop, you can speak behind my hand or shake your head. Understand?”

I nodded again.

“Good girl. Now, bend over and put your hands on the back of the couch.” Once I was positioned, he added, “Don’t move until I tell you. I don’t want to have to hold you in place for this.”

My breathing was more ragged, but he kept going, his right hand caressing down my back, then to my ass, cupping the cheek and squeezing just a bit. He took his hand away and I was sure that a spanking was to follow. I braced for it, but it didn’t come, instead I felt the shock of another piece of ice on my back, just above the band of my jeans. He just held it still for a moment, letting me absorb the sensation. Then standing behind me, he kicked my feet apart a little, so there was room for him to stand directly behind me, his hips pushing into my ass, with the length and girth of his cock against the seam of my jeans. I was so wet. My panties felt tight and hot, like they were full of warm pudding, sticking to me, a wild contrast to the ice on my back and in my mouth. He traced the ice up my back, pushing my shirt up and bending to lay his body over mine.

“Still green, baby girl? Nod yes.”

I nodded yes and pushed my ass back against him.

He chuckled. “Oh, so you want to play? Are you a bad girl just pretending to be good? Or are you a good girl who slips up some? That didn’t seem like a slip to me. Still think you should get a spanking?” His voice was light, teasing.

He continued tracing the ice around my back. It was melting and drops of cold water spilled off my sides and straight down my back into my jeans, some even into my ass crack, chilling me there momentarily.

I shook my head ‘No’ to the spanking.

He kept speaking, “Has anyone ever spanked you before? Think about the size of my hand on this ass.” He paused and grabbed my ass, rougher, nearly savagely. “Think about how hard I could spank you.”

My pussy clamped and released involuntarily. The ice on my back finally melted away, draining rivulets of cold water across my ribs and he dropped his right hand to my hip and pulled me back into him. He was so hard, it felt like a slab of granite pressing into my fleshy backside. His hand was still over my mouth but the ice had melted, and my lips and tongue were so cold. Abruptly, he flipped me around and pushed me back on the couch, on my back. He dropped his weight on me and pushed my legs apart, pinning one to the back of the couch, the other falling off the front.

His mouth was on mine almost instantly, and his lips and tongue felt like fire after the ice. He groaned and ground his hips into me in a circular motion so the crotch seam of my jeans dug into my pussy, separating the lips and pressed directly onto my clit. And I couldn’t stop myself from moaning into his mouth as I ground my hips back against him.

The hard pressure against me and his body over me and his mouth on mine and the whirlwind of sensations and emotions through the day all came crashing together in my body, tears stung my eyes and my hips snapped against his. It was overwhelming and terrifying and I never wanted it to stop. I felt an orgasm building. I was getting closer and closer and…he just completely stopped moving, lifting his entire body off me in a plank move that I distantly recognized from yoga classes I had taken in the past. A small but significant whine of frustration slipped past my lips before I could stop myself and he smiled down at me, genuinely amused.

“Baby girl,” he said reprovingly, “it seemed like you were having way too much fun for punishment.”

And in my mind, I screamed
—Ahhhhh, what the
fuck
!!!! I need to come, you fucker!—
But, I still had this need to impress him, make him proud of me, so I centered myself, took a deep—albeit shaky—breath and looked directly into his eyes with my eyes still wet, but said nothing. He brushed my hair back from my face gently, such a contrast to how he had been treating me that I was disarmed for a moment. He nuzzled his face into my neck, gently biting my ear lobe. His mouth felt hot and wet and electric.
Amazing
.

“I’ll tell you what, you can talk,” he growl-whispered into my ear, “but only to beg. Say please.”

He lowered his body back onto mine and kept skimming kisses on my neck and collarbone. I slipped my still-bound wrists around his neck and started to breathe heavily again, just starting to lift my hips to meet his, but he dropped the weight of his upper body on my chest and both his hands shot to my hips, slamming into me and pressing me into the couch.

“You’re having a hard time controlling yourself, baby girl. I’ll help you, but you still haven’t said please.”

I blushed and felt like he’d just called me a whore who couldn’t control herself even for a moment, and really I did kind of feel like I couldn’t control myself. Shame welled up in my chest, but he kept me restrained against the couch, licking the front of my throat and slipping his tongue lower onto my chest. Finally, he lifted his head to look at me, a searching look, maybe checking to see if I was okay, but he didn’t ask. He started kissing my mouth, like he had all day and no concerns. I wanted to move my body against him, wanted to feel him, wanted him inside me. I wanted him to drive his hips into mine, using his cock to pin me down. I started kissing him back with more heat.

“Just say it, Leda. I know what you want,” he murmured between kisses. He breathed out against my skin, “I’ll make you feel good.”

And it broke me.

“Please,” I choked out against his lips. Shame and expectation and lust and panic and urgency all flooded through me. It was overwhelming, but quickly forgotten as he rotated his hips against me again, still kissing me, his hands just lightly tracing over my breasts, brushing my nipples.

“There’s my good girl.”

His praise undid me, and within seconds an orgasm crashed over me. I felt obliterated and my eyes watered as I quaked in aftershocks. He slowed his motions over me and pulled back to look at me. Surprisingly, he seemed unperturbed by my tears, wiping them away with his fingertips. With his other hand, he released my wrists and I wrapped my arms around him, trying to get control of myself. My breathing was hard and against all reason, I felt myself working up to a real cry. It felt foolish.
Who cries after an orgasm? What kind of weirdo am I? He’s gonna think I’m a freak.
I focused on settling myself down, taking deep breaths and slowing my tears.

After a while, he propped himself up over me and smiled softly. “You did so well, Leda. How do you feel?”

I couldn’t look him in the eye and a few straggler tears still clung to my lashes. “I…I don’t know. I’m shaken? Drained? Like right after a big thunderstorm and everything is wet and soft and clean, like all that tension that was building has crashed over the world and dissipated.” I glanced at him, feeling insecure. “Does that even make sense?”

“Yes, it absolutely does.” He shifted over me to move back and I was suddenly totally aware that I’d come and he had not. I got this weird ‘not-a-good-hostess’ feeling that he should have been taken care of as well.

“What about you?” I asked, meaning that I was aware he could end up with blue balls, but he didn’t take it that way.

“I feel good.
That
felt good,” he replied, the dark gleam still in his eyes. Discretely adjusting his still bulging cock in his jeans and taking our glasses to the kitchen to refill them with fresh Sangria. As he walked back, he said, “So, that is at least a little taste, an
amuse-bouche
if you will, of what I want from you.”

Umm, that was ‘a little bit’?

“But…what about you? Isn’t it uncomfortable not…you know…getting off too?”
Shit—so awkward.

He smiled, with a little laughter in his eyes. “I’m fine. If you’re into this, there’ll be plenty of times that I come and you don’t, plenty of times for you to reciprocate. And if you aren’t really interested in this anymore—well, that’s just not my thing. Regardless, I think the best part is the build-up. I don’t mind if there’s more time until I feel all of you.”