Justine Elyot (25 page)

‘Nothing.’

‘I suppose you want me to believe you have some kind of control over me. You don’t.’

He sighed and laid his head on her chest.

‘Not control,’ he said. ‘Just honesty.’

‘Honesty?’

‘Come out from your hiding place and show me who you are. I want to be kind to you, that’s all, so you’ll be kind to me, instead of fighting me every inch of the way.’

‘I think it’s rather kind of me to let you tie me up, actually,’ said Edie. ‘I can’t think of too many girls who would.’

He burrowed his head between her breasts and kissed the spot.

‘That’s true,’ he conceded. ‘There is hope for me yet.’

‘I just don’t see how this can be anything more than … what it is now. You play up all this love talk, but you don’t mean it. You’re the heir to this estate. You’ll have to marry one day, and it’ll probably have to be to an heiress with enough in the bank to keep this pile going. No?’

He raised his head, his eyes troubled.

‘You sound like pa,’ he said.

‘I’m being realistic.’

‘It doesn’t suit you. I’d prefer it if you’d aim for romantic.’

‘Romance is all flim-flam. A way of dressing up the fact that life for women is thankless drudgery.’

‘Good God, Edie.’

‘You can afford romance because you’re a rich, handsome man.’

He was silent for a moment.

‘I turn to romance because I’ve seen the alternative,’ he said quietly, putting his head back down.

Momentary guilt splintered her heart. It was all very well to accuse him of being pampered and privileged but he had, after all, been to war and seen horrors from which she had been shielded. Perhaps, as he said, kindness was best.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why I’m being so argumentative. I think it’s just a reflex, you know? Fear. Something of that sort.’

‘You’re hard work,’ he said with a sigh. ‘But I think you’re worth it.’

‘Thank you. Are you?’

‘That’s something you must judge for yourself,’ he said, rearing up again. ‘I’ll give you a clue.’

Without warning, he was between her thighs again and this time he wrenched aside her drawers and put his face where they had been.

Edie inhaled sharply and tried to shuffle away but, of course, to no avail.

Charles’ hot breath filled the space, steaming up her skin until it was damp. He kissed and licked her bud back to fullness, quickly reviving it from its previous enervation. She squirmed like fury, tugging at the bonds, desperate to save herself from this overload of sensation. Charles laughed and made enthusiastic noises, his voice sending vibrations through her from her core outwards.

‘It’s too much,’ she gasped, but he held her thighs and feasted all the more.

She gave up her resistance and lay, bonelessly compliant, under his control. He parted her buttocks with eager hands and plunged deeper, pushing his tongue up inside her, his face impressing itself upon her most intimate places.

It felt shameful and so exposing but it built a tremendous tension inside her. It took longer this time, so soon after her first climax, but Charles was diligent and thorough and she knew that he would not stop until he had her thrashing and wailing, a prisoner of his tongue.

‘Oh, I can’t,’ she whispered, ‘I can’t.’

But she could, and she did, and he was more ravenous than ever, robbing her of the orgasm as if he needed it for vital sustenance.

All the life was sapped from her and given to him, for he seemed more powerful and alive than ever, his eyes shining when he knelt up to grin down at her.

‘Twice,’ he said. ‘But what’s the magic number? The one in all the fairytales?’

‘Oh, no, you can’t …’

‘I think I can,’ he said. ‘I think I will.’

The third orgasm was a weaker affair, but it was a miracle to Edie that she had it in her at all. Wherever it hid, though, Charles was sure to find it and tease it out. He knew every trick, every erogenous zone. He crooked his fingers up inside her and worked on one little spot, rubbing and stroking until she thought she would faint away.

‘I can’t fight you,’ she said. ‘I give up. Please. Truce. Pax. Whatever you want.’

He kissed her hairline, so gentle now. Her head was spinning and she was out in space somewhere, in a strange place between peace and sleep and perfect happiness.

‘Whatever I want? That’s a very wide remit,’ he said.

‘Hmm,’ was all she could say, her eyes shut, her mind far away.

‘I’ll untie you now,’ he said, ‘and let you rest. But I haven’t finished with you. Not yet.’

Edie’s limbs trembled with each unknotting of the cords and she curled up into an exhausted ball, spooned by Charles, before drifting swiftly into a doze.

When she awoke, he wasn’t there, and she sat up, disorientated and squinting around the unfamiliar room.

He stood by the window, sipping at the brandy he’d brought up from the terrace, looking out.

He had taken off his clothes and put on a bathrobe instead.

‘Charles,’ she said, and he turned around.

‘I’m afraid I wore you out,’ he said with a tender smile.

‘I’m afraid so too,’ she said. ‘Gosh, my arms ache. I can barely move them.’

‘Too much struggling,’ he said. ‘Next time you’ll remember to just lie back and let me at you.’

‘Next time?’ A flutter of pleasurable fear.

‘Of course. How are you feeling?’

He put down the brandy, came to sit beside her and put his palm to her forehead as if assessing her temperature.

‘I’m not ill,’ she said with a little laugh. ‘I do feel as if I’ve had some kind of surgical procedure, though. A removal of some kind. Of my energy, perhaps.’

‘I was hoping it might be your hard shell.’

She looked away, swallowing.

‘I need that,’ she said.

‘I’ll wear it down in the end.’ He brought her lips back to his and kissed them. ‘Now it’s your turn,’ he whispered.

‘My turn for what?’

‘Your turn to do whatever you like to me. Revenge.’

‘Oh, I say.’ Perhaps she hadn’t lost every scrap of her energy after all. ‘I could tie you up.’

‘You could.’

He tugged at one of the cords, still attached to the bedpost.

‘It’s only fair,’ she said, taking it from him. ‘All right. I’m looking forward to this.’

‘I’m regretting the offer already,’ he said.

‘Take off that robe. You’re naked underneath, I take it?’

He demonstrated as much, shrugging the robe off and dropping it over the side of the bed.

‘You certainly are.’ Her eyes drank in his unclothed form, enjoying its lean perfection. ‘Good. Now lie down. Just the way I did. Yes.’

He made his arms quite limp when she picked them up. They were heavier than she thought, but she was able to fasten the cord around his wrists without too much trouble. He was not, of course, putting up a fight. Had he chosen to resist her, she doubted there would have been much she could have done about it.

She had not expected to find him so attractive with his wrists tied. She stopped and contemplated him for a moment, enjoying the feeling that he was unable to stop her doing anything at all now.

He must trust her, she thought. Or was this a test? A dangerous one, if so.

‘Do you like it?’ she asked, stroking his cheek. ‘Being tied?’

‘So far,’ he said. ‘It’s a new experience for me.’

‘Is it?’

He nodded, swallowing. Something about this intelligence moved Edie more than she could say.

‘You’re a brave man,’ she told him.

‘Thanks.’

She paused to balance her emotions before tying his ankles. How hairy men’s legs were. She had never really had cause to notice before, but she found herself fascinated by the dark down that covered his shins. She stroked it all the way to his ankles, where it thinned before disappearing. His feet were bare and rather soft. If she tickled his insole – oh, but that would be cruel.

All the same, she was tempted.

‘Don’t tickle,’ he exclaimed, reading her mind.

She laughed.

‘I was thinking about it.’

‘I know. You looked quite diabolical for a minute there.’

She diverted her attention from his feet to the rest of his body. He was in a perfect X-shaped cross with his head lolling on one shoulder, eyes watchful. Looking further down, she could see that he was semi-hard and a little twitchy.

What could one do with that appendage? A great many things, probably.

But they could wait. First things first.

She turned her back to him and bent to kiss his ankle, just above the cord. From there, she proceeded all the way up his calf, very slowly. When she kissed the back of his knee, or as much of it as she could get at, she heard his breath grow heavier.

‘Edie …’

‘Yes?’

‘Faster, please.’

‘I’ll go at my own pace, thank you.’

The curve of her bottom brushed in this position against his groin area and she felt that it was hot and slightly damp. She gave a little wiggle, just to tease, then set to the lower portion of his other leg, repeating her earlier actions.

‘Higher,’ he begged.

‘I could do this all day,’ she said, feigning a return to the first leg, causing him to groan outright.

She turned to face him, smiling sympathetically. His brow was beaded and his face flushed. Power was rather nice, she reflected.

‘You’re doing very well,’ she consoled, patting his thigh. ‘You’ll get your reward soon. But not yet.’

Her attentions turned to his inner thighs this time. She made her kisses deeper, pressing her tongue into the firm flesh, sometimes sucking and nipping as she came closer to his groin. His chaotic gasps and whimpers persuaded her that she was doing a good job of driving him wild, just as she intended.

She lingered a little longer than she had at first planned, purely to enjoy all the more the spectacle of her lover losing his habitual suavity in such an unabashed manner. He pulled the most extraordinary faces. They made her simultaneously crueller and more tender towards him. Was this how she made him feel?

‘I will make you beg,’ she said, but she spoke the words more self-consciously than she wished and then laughed at herself. ‘Oh, dear.’

‘I beg you,’ he said. ‘If that is what you want. I beg you.’

‘What do you beg for?’

‘Relief. You.’

‘You beg for me?’

‘Always.’

‘Oh, Charlie.’ She stroked his cheek, too touched to be able to continue in this cruel-mistress vein.

‘I like it when you call me that. Say it again, won’t you?’

‘Charlie,’ she said softly, then she kissed his lips. ‘Poor misunderstood Charlie.’

‘You think I’m misunderstood?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘You must tell me why. But perhaps –’ he paused, glancing delicately down at his erection ‘– later.’

Taking pity on him, she took it in her hand, her grip loose enough to run her fingers up and down the shaft.

‘Mmm, yes,’ he whispered.

She crouched over him, drawn to his nipples, which looked fuller than she would expect. How would they taste? She circled them with her tongue, trying to avoid the rogue chest hairs that strayed into the area. They were little pips but so sweet she couldn’t stop herself sucking at them. He seemed to appreciate this, but not when her absorption in the act caused her to neglect her handling of his manhood.

‘You’re killing me,’ he claimed.

She looked up at him and laughed.

‘Such a death,’ she said.

‘Have you ever wondered how a man would taste?’ he prompted.

‘Ah, now you are trying to take control. I thought you’d relinquished it to me, remember?’

She prodded his chest with a finger, but now he had made the suggestion, she had to admit she was curious. Perhaps she would indulge him in this. But only in her own time.

Instead, she fell to kissing and sucking at his neck while her wet parted lower lips ground against his helpless member, making it even harder than before.

‘Jesus, Edie,’ he gasped, which made her redouble her efforts.

She rubbed herself against his slick length, using it as a toy to bring her back to a state of panting desire. He wanted her to amuse herself with him and he was getting what he had bargained for.

She felt herself rise and fall in rhythm with his heaving chest, her breasts dangling over his pectoral muscles, their nipples brushing together.

If he had his arms free, she thought, he would grab her now and make her sit on him, taking him inside. But his arms were helpless and she could tease until he burst into flame, if she wanted.

She tensed her pelvic floor, testing it for soreness. It was still raw after her deflowering. She would not be able to take him in without discomfort.

Perhaps instead …

‘You think I should taste you?’ she said, plunging her fingers into his disordered hair.

‘Would you like that?’ he panted.

‘I don’t know. I haven’t tried it.’

‘Well, don’t let me stop you.’

‘No. I won’t. You couldn’t anyway.’

Grinning up at him, she slid back down his body until she knelt upright between his spread thighs. She bent over his erection and breathed on it, slowly and gently, wondering if the little bead of white on its tip would have any flavour.

His answering moan was exquisite. She cupped his testicles in one reverent hand and gave them a gentle squeeze, which brought forth more little breathy moans.

Should she start at the top and move down or vice versa?

She decided to view the little white bead as the pinnacle and began a slow trail of kisses around the base of the stalk, enjoying its warmth and firmness against her lips.

She moved her mouth upwards in tiny increments. He rolled his hips and bucked underneath her, plainly urging her to make haste, but she patted his flank in reproof and kept to her own pace. A good explorer did not rush, she told herself, but took time to make a thorough inventory of her territory.

She tried to humour him with little darts of her tongue and light squeezes of his sac. She was halfway to her summit when he spoke in a strangled voice.

‘You are torturing me, Edie.’

‘Mmm,’ was all she said, extending her tongue for a luscious lick around the perimeter of her target. For no reason that she could have articulated, she moved her fingers behind his testicles and pushed at the hot skin there. He almost shot in the air, momentarily dislodging her.