Desire's Edge (6 page)
When she opened her eyes it was because the sun shone, pale and golden, through her closed lids. She opened them slowly, letting them adjust to the daylight.
It was a bit gray outside, the Seattle sky heavy with clouds, but with the morning sun piercing through here and there. Nothing unusual for January in this city. What was unusual was the way she felt.
She was a little sore, inside and out, but it felt good. And Dante’s body next to hers felt even better. Even stranger was the fact that she’d slept through the night. A deep sleep, uninterrupted by dreams. She wasn’t a good sleeper. It was worse, usually, when she tried to sleep with a lover. She’d lie awake for hours, wake up half a dozen times in the night, hyperaware of every movement, the sound of the other person’s breathing. How odd that she’d slept so soundly with Dante.
Dante
.
.
She turned onto her side, facing him, and found him looking at her.
Her pulse sped up.
There was even more gold in his brown eyes in the light of day as he looked at her. Tiny golden flecks surrounding the darker centers, which were a rich whiskey brown at the edges of the pupils. And his lashes were so dark, so thick . . .
“Hey.” His voice was rough with sleep.
“Hey.”
She smiled. She couldn’t help it. Couldn’t even consider that this might be one of those awkward morning-afters. But he smiled back. Her body surged. Need and a sudden, aching warmth that had nothing to do with sex.
Did it?
He propped himself up on one arm, looking down at her. She had one moment to wonder what her hair must look like, if she had marks from the pillowcase on her face. But she was too dazzled by him, by the dimples flashing in his cheeks, the dark stubble shadowing his jaw, making him even more handsome, more masculine, than ever. It was hard to think about anything else. Hard to be self-conscious under his gaze.
Those golden-brown eyes were full of desire. And even as she realized it he pulled her closer with a small growl, his erection pressing against her hip.
She was wet in an instant.
“Kara . . .” He kissed her cheek, her lips. “I hope you like morning sex.”
She laughed, turned on her side, and arched her hips into his.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said. “But tell me, are you sore?”
“I won’t be sitting comfortably for a day or two, but I don’t mind it. I like it. I feel . . .” She paused, trying to figure it out. “I feel like the soreness is . . . a badge of courage. Does that sound silly?”
“Not at all. It is. I may have bruised you. Marked you.”
“Oh . . . I hadn’t thought of that.”
She twisted, trying to look over her shoulder, needing to see.
“Does that concern you? Should I have been more careful with you?”
“No. No, it’s fine.”
How could she tell him she
hoped
to be marked? That she loved the idea of it? That she loved even the word?
hoped
to be marked? That she loved the idea of it? That she loved even the word?
He reached for her and turned her onto her stomach, ran a hand over her bare buttocks. “There are a few small bruises.” He brushed his hand over her again. His voice was low, quiet. “I can feel you shiver when I touch you, Kara. When I touch the marks I left on your skin.”
“I like it. I don’t know why.”
“I think I do.”
He rolled her over until she was facing him once more. His mouth was soft and lush. There was desire there. And something else. Something she couldn’t identify, but that beat through her own system.
“Kara, I should tell you, should probably have told you last night, that I’m more than just into the spanking.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m a dominant. A sexual dominant. This is something I practice. I have for years. I didn’t want to scare you off. But I should have been open with you as soon as I found out you had some desire to be spanked. It’s more serious than that for me—not just some bedroom play to spice things up. I go to the clubs. The Pleasure Dome, here in Seattle, in particular. I have friends there. A community. That’s where I met my best friend, Alec, a few years ago.”
Were they really lying there in his bed, having this conversation? But she was fascinated.
“It doesn’t frighten me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear it. Do you have questions about it? About what I do?”
Where to start? She’d done some reading. A lot, actually. But she wasn’t sure how the titillating fiction she’d read translated to real life.
“I don’t know very much about what that means, to be a sexual dominant. The kind of person who goes to those clubs. But I’ve gathered from stories I’ve read that it means something a bit different for each person.”
“That’s true.”
“What does it mean to you, Dante?”
“For me it means that I am honest with myself about what my desires are. Desires I’ve been aware of having since I was a teenager, and in odd ways even earlier. There was that small thrill in playing pirates as a kid. In tying someone to a tree. Telling other kids to walk the plank, or whatever the game was. There are a lot of people who are into the BDSM scene who have similar stories. It doesn’t mean we sexualized these things as children, necessarily; that usually comes later. But as I said, that thrill was there all along.”
“I think I had some of those same experiences early on. I know just what you mean.”
It was a revelation to her. It explained so much about the way she’d perceived certain things in her life.
“A lot of people let it end there,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe have an active fantasy life. But for me, it’s something I actively seek out, although I don’t require it.”
“But you prefer it. To have your sex with some . . . I’m not sure what to call it.”
“Power play. Power exchange. Because it
is
an exchange. It’s not simply about me as a dominant, a top, wanting to spank you, or whatever the particular desire may be. A BDSM scene is not a solo act. The bottom’s needs, their power, comes into play every bit as much as my own. More, actually. That’s where the real thrill is. The real power.”
is
an exchange. It’s not simply about me as a dominant, a top, wanting to spank you, or whatever the particular desire may be. A BDSM scene is not a solo act. The bottom’s needs, their power, comes into play every bit as much as my own. More, actually. That’s where the real thrill is. The real power.”
“I’ve heard that term, ‘bottom.’ Submissive. Is that what I am, then? Because I like the . . . spanking?”
“I don’t think you have to label yourself, if you don’t want to. You definitely have submissive tendencies. I saw it in you right away. I felt it from the moment I first touched you. But how far that goes remains to be seen. If you decide to pursue it.”
She nodded. Her head was spinning a bit. It was a relief in some way to have a name to put on her desires. A way to identify it. A way in which other people identified similar yearnings. It made her feel less alone.
“Thank you, Dante.”
“For what?”
“For . . . allowing me to explore this. For making it so good for me.”
He grinned then, a grin full of dimples and boyish charm. Strange, how he could be so utterly masculine, so dominant, and still have that boyish aspect shining through. It was part of his charm. Devastating.
“Dante . . .”
“Yes?”
“I’d like to do it again.”
“Ah, so would I. Right now.”
He ran his hand into her hair, his fingers grasping, pulling just tight enough that she had the sense once more of his absolute command over her. Pleasure ran through her, a shiver of light and heat.
He pressed against her again. He was still hard. Her sex pooled with desire, just thinking about him pushing into her. When he thumbed her nipple her insides clenched.
“Dante . . . come on.”
He chuckled. “Soon enough, beautiful girl.”
She knew then that he would tease her, draw it out. Control the pacing.
Yes
.
.
She pulled in a gasping breath when he pinched her nipple, pleasure racing through her like a lovely shock.
“Have you ever come just from this?” he asked her, gravel in his tone again. “Just from having your nipples played with?”
“No.” God, she could barely breathe already. Just to have him ask her this!
“Shall we try?”
All she could do was groan as he got up on his knees beside her so he could use both hands. His naked thighs were strong, muscular, covered in a bit of soft, dark hair. And between them his cock was a rigid shaft of gorgeous golden flesh. She couldn’t believe that he was hard again. The sight of it, that solid flesh, made her mouth water. But she was too distracted by his hands on her breasts.
He was caressing the flesh: the undersides, the rise at the tops of her breasts, tracing the outline. Keeping away from the nipples. They ached with the need to be touched. Tortured. But he kept feathering his fingertips everywhere but there.
“Dante.” She arched, her body surging into his hands.
“No, Kara. Hold still. Breathe. Relax into it.”
She almost wanted to whimper. But she loved the authority in his tone too much not to do as he said.
She pulled in a breath. He kept stroking her skin. Unbearable. But wonderful. Her nipples throbbed. Her sex throbbed until it hurt, engorged and full of need. She wanted to squeeze her thighs together to ease the ache. But she bit her lip and held still.
Finally, he brushed his fingertips over both nipples, and she gasped.
“Good?” he asked.
“Oh yes.”
“I don’t want you to worry about it. About whether or not you can come. I want you to simply enjoy it. To focus on nothing but the pleasure. We’ll see what happens. Just let it happen, Kara.”
His golden gaze was on her breasts. His tongue darted out to lick his lip, and she wanted to put her own tongue there. But she didn’t dare move.
He brushed her nipples again, the lightest of touches. Pleasure was like a slowly burning flame, building and building, a low, hot pulse beat inside her. Unbelievable how intense it was, simply from him touching her breasts. Being so much the center of all his attention. She couldn’t remember any man ever focusing on her this way. She didn’t know how she’d gone without it.
She kept her gaze on his face. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. And that only added to her desire.
He kept at it, his fingertips soft, but eventually her nipples were so hard that even the smallest touch felt like an abrasion. But lovely, wonderful. Sensation rose, intensified with each caress. She moaned.
“Is it building?” he asked.
“Yes. Yes . . .”
“Good.”
He pinched her, suddenly, hard, and her body arched up off the bed.
“Oh!”
The pain was followed by a flood of pleasure.
“You like that, don’t you, Kara?”
“Yes. Please, Dante. I want more.”
He smiled, pinched again. And again, her body rose from the bed, pleasure like an electric current. Shocking. Leaving her tingling all over. Intensified when he used one hand to hold her down on the mattress.
She loved that sensation of being controlled. She couldn’t think about why. It made no sense to her. But she was too lost in it to really question it. All she knew was that it was
good
.
good
.
He leaned in and whispered, “I’m going to take them into my mouth now.” And he did just that, touching the wet tip of his tongue to one nipple, then the other, before sucking the hard flesh in.
His mouth was hot, silky. Her nipples were rock-hard. Pleasure was even harder, like something solid moving through her. Her sex pulsed deep inside, a strange sensation, unlike anything she’d ever felt before. Some odd combination of him teasing her nipples and the sense of being under his hands. Under his command.
He kept at it, sucking, biting, pinching the undersides of her breasts. She didn’t know how long it went on—it could have been an hour. Her skin was damp all over, her breath a panting rasp in her ears. Sensation crested in her body. Unbelievable.
She was going to come.
“Dante . . . I’m so close . . .”
He sucked harder, pain and pleasure mingling until she didn’t know where one began and the other ended.
“Oh God . . .”
Her body hovered on that exquisite edge.
“Please, Dante . . .”
He lifted his head and murmured, “You’ve done very well, beautiful girl. Come now.”
His mouth went to her nipple once more and latched on. And his hand went between her thighs, taking her clitoris and rolling it between his fingers.
“Oh God!”
Her climax shot through her, hard, intense. Almost too much to take. She yelled, her entire body arching, writhing in pleasure so intense she could barely stand it.
She was still shivering with it when he climbed onto her, his sheathed cock slipping between her thighs and inside her.
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