The Awakening of Nina Fontaine Page 13

  She flinched when she felt his hand on her shoulder. He brushed the hair aside and she felt the rope, unexpectedly soft and heavy, against the back of her neck. A moment later he placed one end over each of her shoulders until they hung loosely down her body.

  She fought a surge of panic, but when he moved to the front of her body and tied a knot above her breasts, there was plenty of room between her neck and the knot, alleviating any concern she had about being able to breathe.

  “Shibari is sometimes referred to as Kinbaku.” He spoke softly as he used the ends of the rope to make two more knots down the front of her body — one between her breasts and one just above her navel. “In a literal sense, it means to bind tightly, although the adverb is open to interpretation — and preference.”

  The rope was somehow both silky and rough, a sensual counterpoint to her bare skin. Her eyes flickered closed as he slipped a hand between her thighs. Her body ached, every nerve throbbing as he slipped the ends of the rope between her legs.

  “Shibari is a Western term.” She felt him touching the rope at the back of her neck and stifled a moan as the length between her legs tightened between her folds. He took one end and slipped it under her arm, making his way back to the front of her body and working the rope around one breast. “It refers more to the aesthetic of the rope. Kinbaku is about the sensual pleasure of bondage.”

  She kept her eyes closed as he maneuvered the rope around her other breast.

  “I find both to be appropriate, though purists would disagree. Shibari is undoubtedly beautiful, a natural addition to the aphrodisiac of bondage,” he said. “I’m not interested in purity. Only pleasure.”

  Her eyes were still closed when she felt his hands working the rope at her back.

  “Do you find this pleasurable, Nina?” He spoke her name with reverence, his breath a whisper on her bare shoulder.

  “Yes.”

  “I thought you might,” he murmured.

  He was in front of her again, his breath soft against the cleft between her thighs. When she opened her eyes, he was kneeling in front of her, tying the ends of the rope in a knot at her navel.

  He sat back on his heels and looked up at her, his eyes lit with something like awe.

  She didn’t know what to say, couldn’t find words for the current of emotion and sensation running through her body and soul.

  Need and pleasure and excitement and shame.

  He stood and stepped behind her, guiding her to a full-length mirror against the wall.

  “Look at yourself, Nina,” he said. “Look at how magnificent you are. How powerful.”

  The rope was tied in a complicated configuration of knots and loops that framed her breasts, plump and aroused, her nipples jutting and hard. A crimson line traveled down the center of her stomach in a series of knots that led to the final one at her belly button.

  He rested his chin on her shoulder and slipped his hand around her waist, running his fingers along the length of rope from the knot between her breasts to the one at her navel. He looped a couple fingers under it and tugged. She cried out as the rope tightened against her clit, working its way deeper into the folds of her pussy.

  “How does that feel?” he asked as he met her eyes in the mirror.

  “Good,” she gasped.

  He smiled. “Good?”

  “Amazing,” she said.

  The rope was soft in her folds, but its texture provided just enough friction to open up a yawning need at her center. An orgasm was already clamoring for release, her clitoris throbbing so hard it was almost painful. She pressed her legs together, trying to tamp it down, determined not to beg.

  Jack was restrained, powerful in all things, but he didn’t have a corner on discipline.

  His hands moved over her hips as he murmured in her ear. “The legs are often bound as well, but I’m too eager to see you to bind your legs.” He stepped away from her. “Maybe next time.”

  The thought should have made her cringe. This wasn’t normal — not for her. This wasn’t something she should find erotic, not something that should turn her on, that should make her wet, hungry for Jack’s body to fill her.

  To suck and lick and penetrate around the ropes he’d used to bind her body.

  But it did. That much was undeniable.

  “Lay down,” he said.

  She turned away from the mirror and watched him slip off his shoes and reach for the buttons on his shirt. She wanted to work them herself, wanted to slide the shirt from his chest, to reach for the zipper on his trousers and free his cock.

  I’ll tell you when you can touch me.

  She moved to the bed, laying down as he’d ordered, and watched his body come slowly into view as he tossed aside his shirt.

  According to the information she’d found online, he was nearly sixty-five, but she wouldn’t have guessed it. He was in incredible physical condition, his pecs and biceps significant and defined, his chest hair sparse enough to be sexy. She could almost feel the slight friction of it against her painfully erect nipples.

  His stomach was flat, his abs corded on their march to a trim waist, a faint line of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his slacks.

  His eyes never left hers as he unzipped his pants and slid them from his hips. If he’d been wearing underwear, he’d removed them at the same time as his pants, because a moment later he was standing naked in front of her.

  And if his chest gave no indication of his age, the rest of him made it even harder to believe. His thighs were solid and well-built, his cock long, thick, and hard.

  All the proof she’d needed that underneath all the power, all the money, Jack was just a man. Maybe not a man like any other, but a man nevertheless.

  He moved to the end of the bed and looked down at her. His eyes were vacuous in the near-dark of the room.

  “Hold onto the headboard.” His voice was low and controlled.

  She obeyed, wrapping her hands around the slats. She kept her eyes on him, wondering if he could see the need in her.

  If he could smell it in the air.

  “Good,” he said. “Now spread your legs.”

  26

  He looked at her for what felt like a long time, skimming her face, her bound breasts, the knot at her navel, the rope disappearing between her legs. The longer he stared, the hotter — the wetter — she got, until she was nearly whimpering with need, her body aching and swollen.

  Finally he knelt at the foot of the bed. He used his hands to press her thighs open wider, and she had to force herself not to object. She couldn’t remember ever being so on display for a man, not even with Peter in college when they’d been young. They’d fancied themselves bold and passion-filled, but even their most passionate sex had held only a fraction of the tension, the vulnerability, of her night so far with Jack Morgan.

  And he hadn’t done more than kiss her, touch the rope he’d tied to her body, skim her hips with his hands.

  “You’re exquisite,” he said, gazing reverently at her pussy, spread and exposed.

  She started to bring her knees together, the urge to cover herself instinctual, but he used his hands to hold her legs apart.

  “Nothing is more sacred than beauty, Nina. It’s a sacrilege to hide it.” His smile was faint. “Unless you’d like to say stop, in which case I can take you home.”

  There was nothing she wanted less than to go home. Than to leave this bed, this man who held her in his thrall.

  “No.”

  He nodded. “Good.”

  He leaned over her body and lowered his face to her neck. She wanted him to kiss her, wanted to feel his mouth on her. Instead he skimmed her body with his face as if he were smelling her, his nose brushing against her chest, down the valley between her breasts, alongside the rope tracking a path down her stomach.

  She was desperate for some kind of touch, her body primed, amped, for any kind of direct stimulation. He lingered over the mound between her legs, and her hips came off th
e bed of their own volition, her body seeking the relief it craved, oblivious to pride or decorum.

  “Please…” she whimpered.

  He positioned himself between her legs. “Beg all you like, darling. I’ll give you what I want to give you when I want to give it to you. You’ll accept it or you’ll get nothing at all.”

  The words should have enraged her feminist sensibilities. Instead she felt a fresh wave of moisture rush to her pussy. She was vaguely aware that he’d used a term of endearment for the first time, that there was something like affection in his voice, but she was too lost to analyze any of it.

  She had only one mission now, and that was to come.

  She waited for his fingers, for some kind of foreplay to lead into his mouth on her. She was still waiting when his tongue slid through her folds, his lips clamping down on her engorged clit.

  She moaned, her legs falling further open as he sucked, coaxing the already-swollen bud into a throbbing, aching bundle of nerves.

  She was already close to coming, her arousal only heightened by the fact that he kept his hands off her, his mouth the one point of erotic contact, her channel empty and begging for his shaft — his fingers, anything — to fill it.

  Her hips moved with the rhythm of his sucking until he stilled them with his hands. The limitation only heightened her excitement, and she let herself sink into it, stopped fighting the fact that he was in control, that he owned her body, that she was at his mercy.

  The orgasm was more powerful because of her surrender. She didn’t fight it as it built in her stomach, didn’t have to reach for it as it blossomed inside her, wracking her body with wave after wave of contractions, washing over her like an endless set of waves crashing ashore.

  “Oh my god… Jack… I can’t stop…”

  She heard her voice — guttural and foreign — as if from afar. There was nothing in her world but pleasure — nothing but Jack’s hot tongue lapping at her clit and her body convulsing, releasing months — years — of tension and fear and shame and restraint.

  Her body had barely stopped shuddering when she looked up to see him positioned between her thighs, rolling a condom over his engorged crown, down his thick shaft.

  He leaned over and captured her lips in his, devouring her with a hunger that took her breath away, his tongue pillaging her mouth, the salty taste of her own sex earthy and dirty and sensual.

  He broke away, kissing the corners of her lips as he spoke. “Do you see how good your pussy tastes, Nina? How delicious it is?”

  “Yes.” She could barely get the words out, her mouth seeking his, perversely wanting more of the taste of her sex mixed with his saliva, his own hunger.

  She was breathless when he pulled away, his cock jutting between her thighs. He reached down and slid the rope aside, the tension causing it to pull against her perineum, sending another shot of raw desire through her body just before he plunged into her.

  She closed her eyes, didn’t recognize her own voice as she screamed into the room.

  “Look at me fucking you,” Jack ordered.

  She looked between her legs, unprepared for the eroticism of her bound upper body, the scarlet rope crisscrossing her pale skin, leading her eyes downward where Jack’s body was joined with hers.

  He picked up one of her legs and bent her knee, pressing her thigh against her stomach as he drove into her again, deeper this time, his cock filling every inch of her swollen channel.

  “Oh god…”

  He dragged out of her, the sensation somehow just as pleasurable. “Tell me.”

  “You feel so good.” She moaned as he picked up her other leg and bent it back like the other one. He thrust into her again.

  “Tell me what you want,” he said.

  “I want you.”

  “You’ll have to be more honest than that if you want me to keep fucking you.” The slight strain in his voice was the only indication that he was experiencing pleasure, that he was struggling to retain control. “Now tell me what you want, Nina.”

  “I want your cock,” she gasped. “I want you to fuck me until I come.”

  He reached down and tugged on the rope, lifting her body slightly up off the bed. The rope slid deeper into her perineum and she clinched the sheet in her fist as she groaned.

  “Do you like that?” He drove into her again, moving faster now, the rhythm creating friction against her clit. Another orgasm roared to life inside her.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Do you want to feel my cock in your tight ass? Is that what you want?”

  “Yes…”

  She was dimly aware that she would be embarrassed tomorrow. That she was saying things she’d never said in bed. That she was doing things she’d never done.

  That she wanted to do more things she’d never done.

  But god help her, it was true. She wanted him everywhere: in her mouth, in her pussy, in her ass.

  “I’m going to own every inch of you, Nina. I’m going to own parts of you you didn’t know existed, make you want things you never knew you wanted.”

  “Please,” she said.

  “Please what, darling?”

  “I’m going to come soon.”

  He pulled out.

  “You come when I say you come,” he said, bending to kiss her.

  She punched the bed as he swept her mouth with his tongue, his cock sliding against her clit as he kissed her slow and deep. She wanted to enjoy the kiss — she was beginning to understand that kissing was a tool employed judiciously in Jack’s seduction — but she was too keyed up, too desperate.

  He kissed his way along her jaw and bit down on her ear. It was almost hard enough to hurt.

  Almost.

  “Touch my cock, Nina.”

  She let go of the headboard and wrapped her hands around his shaft.

  He didn’t make a sound as she stroked him, but she relished the pulse of him in her palm, the only indication she had that he enjoyed her ministrations.

  He kissed her neck and collarbone, made his way down her chest to her nipples, framed by the rope. She waited for him to take them in his mouth, one of the many areas of her body demanding attention, the scarcity of his touch only making her more needy for it.

  He stopped short and rose between her legs, forcing her to let go of his cock.

  He reached over her body, replacing her hand on the headboard, making it clear she was done touching him.

  “Now you can come,” he said.

  He plunged into her as he thumbed her clit and a long, guttural moan was wrenched from her throat as he penetrated her all the way to her cervix. He pulled out quickly and immediately plunged back into her, his faster pace making it clear he was reaching for his own climax.

  “Come with me, Jack.”

  “I take care of myself.” There was an angry edge to his voice. “You do as I say.”

  He reached between their bodies and spread her ass cheeks, opening her wider as he sunk an inch deeper into her pussy. It created even more pressure on her clit and she felt herself teetering on the brink of another orgasm.

  “Now fucking come for me, Nina.”

  He thrust into her in a frenzy, his body pounding against hers as he drove into her again and again, fanning the flames already spreading in her body.

  “Oh god…” She tipped over the edge of her restraint, her body on fire, nipples tingling, contractions moving through her center.

  She spun through the darkness, alone, out of body.

  Burning.

  For one blissful moment, she was nothing, liberated from herself, from the burden of all her conceptions, of her past, her future.

  Her body was beyond her control. So was her mind.

  She surrendered to it, let Jack own her like he’d owned her since the moment he’d picked her up off the pavement.

  Let herself disintegrate.

  When she opened her eyes, her cheek was against Jack’s chest.

  “You were marvelous.” He kisse
d her head and stroked her hair. “Magnificent.”

  She was afraid to breathe, aware that this was a rare moment. A moment when Jack’s guard was down enough for him to be kind.

  To show that he cared. Or to act like it anyway.

  She didn’t know him well enough to know which was true.

  She didn’t speak, didn’t want to break the spell of his heartbeat under her ear, the intimacy — finally — of his body nestled next to hers.

  They didn’t lay there nearly long enough before he slid gently out from under her.

  He looked down at her. She couldn’t read his expression. “I’m going to run you a bath. Then we’ll get the ropes off you and let you soak.”

  She watched him go, marveling again at the fitness of his body, the tightness of his ass.

  She heard the water running in what must have been an adjoining bathroom and rolled onto her back. When she looked down she was almost shocked to see the rope still tracking across her skin.

  It came back to her in flashes: his binding of her body, the way she’d looked in the mirror, the rush of need when he’d tugged on the rope, his command over her.

  Her willing obedience.

  You come when I say you come.

  It was the kind of dirty talk she’d read about but never experienced, the ropes — what had he called it? Shibari? — something that would have repelled her in the light of day.

  But she’d wanted him. Had wanted all the things he did to her and all the things he’d promised.

  I’m going to own parts of you you didn’t know existed, make you want things you never knew you wanted.

  She wondered if it was her imagination that it had sounded as much a threat as a promise.

  27

  She woke to the smell of breakfast and coffee. It was so innocuous after the night she’d shared with Jack, so deceptively innocent, that she wanted to extend the moment. Wanted to stay in Jack’s big bed a little longer without analyzing everything that had happened — everything she’d done, everything she’d said — the night before.

  He’d been gentle with her after their sexual encounter, running the promised bath and leading her into a lavish marble bathroom almost as big as her apartment. Candles had flickered alongside the tub, and the air was scented with lavender and something almost antiseptic that might have been aloe.