I hear the soft rustle of clothes as he moves. I don’t know if he’s undressing or walking around the room. Or both. The anticipation of what he might do, where he might touch is sweet torture.
A few seconds later, I feel his hand cup my right breast, kneading it, rolling and pinching the nipple. I feel the heat of his mouth closing over it at the same time that I feel the burn of hot wax hitting my navel.
I cry out and Alec bites down. Pleasure shoots through me, landing between my legs like a wet clap of thunder. I arch my back, straining for more of Alec’s mouth, but he doesn’t give it. He pulls away.
For a few seconds, there’s nothing. No sound, no touch, nothing but the tingle of my skin under the wax and the cool air tickling my face. Until Alec’s lips close over my other nipple. His mouth is cold and I gasp.
He teases me for a moment and then he’s gone again. I feel nothing until I hear Alec’s hiss followed by the blazing touch of his fingers. They’re covered in something scorching hot and sticky as they tease and rub my nipple.
I cry out again, writhing on the bed, never more in need of his touch at my core, never more in need of his penetration.
More rustling sounds just before Alec scoots me up the bed, toward the headboard. I hear the sound of a chain moving before he takes my bound hands and hooks them onto something that anchors them above my head.
I feel vulnerable. Exposed. I fight the urge to draw my legs up, to cover myself, to protect myself.
“Very good,” Alec says, as if reading my mind and commending my control.
I hear a buzzing sound and my stomach muscles clench. The first contact of the vibrator is the tip against my lips. Alec drags it over my mouth, back and forth. “Open,” he commands. I part my lips and he slips the rounded head into my mouth about an inch. “Lick it.”
I do, swirling my tongue around the smooth latex. It doesn’t have much of a taste, not nearly as strong as the rubber smell.
He slides it in a little further, gliding it between my lips and over my tongue. Abruptly, he withdraws it and the buzzing sound grows distant.
Every inch of my skin is alive with the anticipation of where he might touch me next. And with what. When I finally feel his palm against the inside of my thigh, warmth gushes through me, pooling a few inches from his hand.
He pushes on my legs, moving them further apart, spreading my body open for him. I gasp when I feel the tip of the vibrator graze my clitoris. Alec circles it before sliding down the crease of my lips then pushing it up into me. He moves the vibrator around, rotating it just inside my entrance, then retreating, teasing me mercilessly.
Then I feel his tongue. He licks lazily at my clitoris, like he’s lapping up fine cream, all the while penetrating me with the vibrator. Short strokes, in and out. He begins moving his hand and his lips faster and faster, pushing me further and further, until I’m grinding my hips against him. His tongue becomes more insistent as he moves the vibrator deeper and deeper, in and out.
The tension is building. I know what’s coming. I know what’s on the other side. And I’m helpless, literally helpless, to prevent it. I couldn’t escape if I tried.
I strain against my bonds, my back arching off the bed, my pelvis gyrating in time with Alec. And then his mouth is gone and he’s turning me onto my stomach, the chains moving easily with me as he urges me up onto my knees. I lean on my elbows, panting as Alec continues to thrust the vibrator into me.
I feel the hot sting of wax running over the curve of one butt cheek. One rivulet runs down into the crease. The other gathers into a pool on my lower back. I moan at the assault against my sensitized skin, but it only makes the soft lick of Alec’s tongue more pronounced.
I push back against his hand until it disappears. I hear his zipper and I hold back tears of desperation, never wanting to feel him inside me so badly before.
His hands brush my hips then my stomach as he rolls me onto my back. I feel him stretch over me and release my hands and then I feel the whisper of his breath as he hovers near my face, removing the blindfold.
I blink to adjust to the dim light. Above me, I see Alec’s handsome face, contorted in a way that closely mimics pain.
“I want you like this,” he says, his lips closing over mine as he pushes his body deep into mine.
I explode all around him. Wave after wave rolls over me, stealing my breath, my voice and my vision.
I can only hear—Alec whispering softly in my ear, telling me how perfect I am.
And I can feel—his lips on my chin, his teeth at my nipple, his body spewing hot liquid into mine.
My limbs are numb and my skin is tingling as I settle back down to earth. There’s only one thing on my mind as thought returns.
“Why did you let me go?”
Several seconds pass before Alec lifts his head and looks down at me. “You surrendered to me a long time ago. I just didn’t realize it until tonight. Tonight was about you, about you overcoming, about you giving me the most important thing you could give me.”
“But I—”
Alec cuts me off with a finger to my lips. “Shh,” he says softly, tilting his head and looking deeply into my eyes. He watches me for a long time before he brushes my bangs out of my eyes and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear, like he’s done so many times before. “All good,” he croaks, his lips twisting into a small smile.
I smile up at him, my heart in my eyes. It’s not a question this time, but a statement. “All good,” I repeat.
And it is. For me anyway.
I’m unchained, both physically and emotionally. But I get the feeling that Alec isn’t. He’s still tethered to the past, to his guilt.
And I don’t know if I’m enough to set him free.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT - Alec
Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, I turn on my internal clinical lamp and examine the situation.
On the one hand, I’m satisfied. Maybe more satisfied than I can ever remember being. But on the other hand there’s…something. And that is what’s making me restless.
Despite Samantha’s unconditional surrender to me, there’s something that’s still haunting me. As is the problem with most psychiatrists who try to heal themselves, I find that I’m too close to the subject matter to be objective.
Based on past endeavors, I know that at this point in our relationship, I should be feeling satiated, very smug after Samantha’s submission. That is followed closely by a marked decline in interest. It’s the natural order of things after I achieve this…level with a woman. It rarely lasts past their surrender, body and soul. It sounds shallow and cavalier and monstrous, but it’s the truth.