Temptation’s Edge (9 page)

He leaned over her until he was whispering into her hair. “I know what you’re going through, Mischa. You’re fighting it. The fight makes it harder on you. I admit I’ll enjoy it a bit. But when you let go of the fight, that’s when it can really begin. That’s when you’ll feel it all in some new, sublime way. That’s my goal with you, sweetheart. To take you there.”

“I…I don’t know…” Her anxiety was mounting as she squirmed, and she realized she truly could not break from his hold on her.

“Ah, but I do. I can see it in you, the ability. The submissive response to even the most subtle tone of voice, the most subtle touch. It doesn’t have to mean you’ll ever be some kind of slave girl. There’s a world of difference there. Don’t you worry about that. Just be in the moment. Let it happen, as much as you can.” His fingers flexed on the back of her neck, the fingers of his other hand flexing on her wrists, a small reminder. “Breathe for me, now. Deep breath in, let it out slow. Like meditation. It
is
a sort of meditation, as strange as it may sound. As odd as it may be to think of being able to relax while I hold you down like this. But that’s exactly the point. You are in
my
hands.”

As soon as he said that, she did get it. She did as he said, pulling in a long breath, letting it out a little at a time. Trying desperately to quiet the voice in her head that was telling her it was time to panic. But his soothing tone instructing her to breathe, over and over, was drowning it out.

Time passed. She didn’t know how much. Finally he said, “Very good.” And spanked her.

“Oh!”

“Can you take it, Mischa?”

She paused, let out a panting breath. “Yes.”

“Are you being stubborn? Or do you really want it?”

“I want it,” she said without hesitation this time. She didn’t want to think. She only wanted to feel. And it was crucial that it was Connor doing these things to her.

He smacked her again, the sound ringing through the high-ceilinged loft. His hand came down once more, really stinging her flesh this time, and she gasped.

“Shh, you’re okay,” he told her, his voice a rough whisper.

He smoothed his hand over her tender skin. It felt lovely. His voice in her ears. His hand on her. The sting of the spanking. It all seemed to merge.

“Ready, my girl?”

“Yes.”

There was a long enough pause that she had a moment to wonder what was going to happen. Then his hand came down again. And again. A sharp volley of slaps on her ass, one cheek, then the other, in a kind of slow, even rhythm. His hand came down harder with each smack. And with the sting came pleasure just as sharp. In minutes she was soaking wet, needy. She tilted her hips, pressing her cleft into the sofa.

“Ah, none of that,” he said, the hand holding her wrists gripping tighter and pressing down a bit, into the small of her back, so that there was no question what he was talking about. “If you have a need,
I
will fill it. Do you understand?”

“Yes…I understand.”

Inside she was pouting a little at being spoken to that way. But she was also as turned on as she’d ever been in her life. That it was
him
telling her these things, laying down these rules for her.

For
her.

It felt like a small epiphany—the discovery, on some deep level,
that this was truly for her as much as for him. But she couldn’t think now. He was spanking her again, faster this time. Harder. The pain built and built. And just when she thought she couldn’t bear it any longer, he let her wrists go and slipped his hand between her thighs and right into the soft folds of her pussy.

“Oh…”

“Ah, so wet. This is beautiful to me, darlin’. To feel your pleasure under my hands. To know it’s more than sheer stubbornness that keeps you here. To know that your sweet pussy is as wet as my cock is hard.”

Her sex clenched. She turned her face into the cushions, moaned as he pressed a finger inside her.

“So damn wet. So tight, no matter how wet you are. You held my cock so tightly inside you when I was fucking you last night.”

She groaned.

“You like that, to hear me talk of fucking you, don’t you? I can see that you do. I can feel it. Need coming off you in waves, like heat from the sun. I like it, too. To speak of fucking you. To say the words.”

There was a long pause while he pumped his fingers into her until she was squirming; she couldn’t help it, couldn’t hold still. Pleasure was spiraling inside her, deeper and deeper.

“I want to fuck you, Mischa, my girl. I want to fuck you so hard. I want to fuck you until you can’t stop coming. I want to fuck you until you scream. And I will, my girl. Take that as a promise.”

Oh, she was shivering all over, her pussy squeezing his thrusting fingers, needing more. Needing his big cock inside her. Needing to be spanked some more.

“Connor…”

“Shh.” His fingers stopped. “You will speak only when I ask you to. Is that clear?”

“Yes. Yes…oh…”

“Good girl.” He began to pump into her again. “Hold as still as you can, now. Do it for me.”

He gathered her wrists in his hand again, holding them tight, seeming to hold
on to
her, to help her control her body as he shifted his hand, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his broad thumb so he could press onto her tight clit with his fingers. She needed to move, to arch her hips into his hand, but she didn’t do it. Because he didn’t want her to.

Her head was absolutely empty of everything but the most exquisite, torturous pleasure. She was going to come.

He stopped, gave her wrists a hard squeeze, hard enough to really hurt, to bring her a bit away from where she hovered on the edge of climax.

She whimpered, hardly believing she was doing it.

He was close to her ear again. “I know, my darlin’ girl. I know it’s hard. But you’ll be the better for it. Trust me. When I do let you come, you’ll explode like a fucking rocket. You’ll have the best orgasm of your life. Just put yourself into my hands. Completely. Let’s do some breathing again.”

She tried, but her breath was shaky. He kept talking to her, his voice soft, until she was able to fill up her lungs, despite the hard, driving need in her body. And eventually, under his instruction, she was able to get it back under control.

Under control.

Wasn’t that exactly what she wanted? But she’d had to hand the control over to him first…

She couldn’t make sense of it.

She didn’t have time to; he flipped her over onto her back and bent to press his mouth to her aching slit.

“Oh…God…”

His lips were warm, his tongue like damp silk as it slid up her
cleft, in between the swollen folds of her pussy lips, then inside her. He let it surge into her, all soft and moist. It felt amazing. Pleasure was rising once more. He took his time, just letting his wide tongue press softly against her sex, slipping inside her, out again. And all the while he had his hands beneath her buttocks, his fingers digging in just enough. Possessively.

She felt the silk of his dark hair against her inner thighs. Loved the contrasts: his soft mouth, his hard hands, the satin of his hair, the gentle scrape of his beard stubble. She was writhing a little, but he was letting her, not controlling her as much this time. She was so close…so close…

He pulled away.

“Mischa, look at me.”

She opened her eyes, hadn’t realized they’d been closed. And caught his gaze. His pupils were wide, the green of his eyes glowing, sparking with bits of gold. The eyes of a wildcat. His mouth was damp with her juices, loose with desire. A stab of need went through her, simply seeing the expression on his face.

“You’re going to come now,” he said quietly.

“Yes…please.”

“You’re going to come for me, my girl. Do you understand? For
me
.”

“Yes. Yes.”

He kept his gaze on her as he thrust his hand between her thighs. He pushed three fingers into her wet sex, used his thumb to rub her swollen clitoris. He brought the other hand to his mouth, sucked one finger, brought it out again and slipped it under her.

She knew what he was going to do with it. But still, it was like some exquisite surprise when he pushed the wet tip into her ass.

She moaned, panted.

“Good?” he asked.

“God, yes!”

“Then come for me. Come hard, my girl.”

Pleasure invaded her system: clit, pussy, ass. It all came together, sensation overload, and her body went wild with a burst of heat. It consumed her, dazzled her. She was yelling, jerking. And he kept his gaze on hers, so that she had the sensation of coming
into
his sea-green eyes.

“Connor!”

“I’m here with you, sweetheart. I’m riding it out with you.”

And he did; he stayed with her, his fingers plunging into her, working her ass, her clitoris. His gaze locked on hers, going darker by the second.

She wasn’t sure she was quite done when he slipped his fingers from her, unzipped his jeans and slipped a condom onto his erect cock.

“Can’t fucking wait a moment longer,” he muttered.

Then he was on her, using his hands to wrap her legs around him. The fabric of his jeans was rough against her thighs. She didn’t care. Her hands went into his hair and held on as he worked the tip of his cock into her.

He was as big as ever, but she was so incredibly wet, she took him all in one stroke.

“Mischa, fuck, girl…”

He thrust into her, his hands snaking around her body to pinch her buttocks, squeezing her flesh hard between his fingers. It hurt like hell. It felt amazing. The pleasure, the pain, melted together, became one sensation. That and the scent of him in her nostrils. The knowledge that it was Connor riding her.

She latched on to his neck, tasting him with her tongue, then biting down hard, feeling the silky flesh of his throat between her teeth. He cried out, an animal sound. But he never stopped fucking her in long, punishing strokes.

They were gasping together, moving together. And as he dug his fingers into her flesh, he came, shuddering, calling her name.

“Mischa…Mischa!”

She grabbed his head in her hands, forced him to look into her eyes as he was coming, and it was overwhelming, seeing him so lost in pleasure. Seeing the dark intensity there. The
connection.

There was too much there. She couldn’t comprehend it all, or if what she thought she was seeing was real. Chills ran up her spine for several moments. Then her body arced as another orgasm washed over her, his hips slamming into her still, his pelvic bone crashing against her clitoris.

Her head spun, everything went dark, and she lost herself in sensation. Lost herself in him.

Connor.

She wanted to call for him. To tell him what she was feeling, talk out her confusion. But she was too far gone to speak his name.

His weight grew heavy on her, but she was too weak, too out of it, to ask him to move. She didn’t really want him to. The small part of her mind that was gradually clearing was a little afraid that if he got off her she’d bolt from the room. But instead of her panic calming as they both caught their breath, it grew. With each passing moment she became more and more certain that she had given him far too much of herself. That doing so was dangerous. That she was out of her depths with this man.

Finally she said, “Connor.”

“Hmm? What is it, darlin’?”

“I have to…I have to get up. I have to move.”

He raised his head to look into her eyes. He stayed there for several moments, searching her face as the tension mounted inside her, until she thought she would scream. She had to bite down on her lip to hold it inside.

“Are you bottoming out?”

“No. No. I just…Connor, let me up.”

“Of course.”

He rolled off her, stripping the condom from his softening cock. She sat upright, breathing as hard as she had been while he was fucking her.

“Okay. Okay.” She pushed a hand through her tangled hair. “I just…have to go.”

He put a hand on her arm. She tried to shake him off, but he wasn’t having it. He said softly, “Where do you need to go, Mischa?”

“Out of here.” She swallowed hard, hating the tears she felt prick the back of her eyelids.

“It’s okay,” he said.

She turned to him, her eyes feeling hot. Blazing, she was sure. “It is
not
okay!”

“What’s not? Tell me.”

She shook her head. She knew she was being childish. She couldn’t help it.

He placed both hands on her shoulders. His eyes were gleaming, a little sleepy, still, but they held his usual authority. “Mischa, you’re panicking.”

“Damn right I am.”

“Why?”

“Because this is not right! I am not some little subbie girl you can tell what to do. I am not some…weak woman who can’t think for herself.”

“I never said you were.”

“No, but your actions imply it.” She was trembling now, hard shudders running through her body.

“Mischa,” he said again, as if he knew saying her name would catch her attention. It did. “This
is
bottoming out. The panic.
The shivering. I’m not saying you don’t have some real concerns. But the panic is simply a chemical response to an overload of stimulation. Let me help you.”

“Why would you? You don’t care about me. And you don’t have to—that’s not what I’m saying.”

What
was
she saying? She wasn’t even sure any longer. All she knew was she had to get out of there—or get
him
out of there. She didn’t care that she was getting a little hysterical.

“I don’t have to, it’s true,” he said, his tone still low. “But I do.”

“What are you saying?”

“Maybe I’m not exactly certain. But I do care, as I would for any human being. And more…because it’s you. I don’t understand it.” He shrugged, his hands loosening on her shoulders, stroking the skin a little. “Maybe I’m not meant to. But there it is.”

“You feel responsible for me,” she said, knowing she sounded sulky.

“Yes. I’m supposed to, aren’t I? But it’s not all about that. And even if it were, that would be enough for me to
want
to soothe you. This is what I do. It’s very real for me. More real with you, now…”