At His Whim (5 page)

Now I let him lead me back inside and out a side door, to an earthen path through the trees and down a slope to the moonlit beach.  I had to pause to take off my shoes and carried them with me as he pulled me along, the warm sand shifting under my bare feet.  When we were far removed from the resort’s main buildings, and the boisterous strains of music were no more than stray pulses in the distance, he stopped and stood with his back to the ocean and a bright full moon.

There was no kiss this time, no concern about unwelcome advances or a tentative offer to leave.  Pronounced need rumbled in Adrian’s voice as he told me, “I want you naked and on your knees.”

And I reached for the zipper at the side of my dress, immediately, obediently.  My hands shook despite my decision, my commitment to this course.  It wasn’t enough to stop me from dragging down the metal tab, stepping out of the fitted sheath, peeling away the strapless bra or the wisp of soaked lace that was my panties.  With a night that only cooled down to about seventy degrees, I was comfortable—with the temperature, at least—kneeling nude in the open air.

Maybe this surprised Adrian.  He stared at me for a long moment, his only movement the twitch along one loosely clasped hand against his leg.  “You are on your knees, naked, with a fully dressed man standing over you.  Does that excite you, Miss Bloom?”

I started to respond, then stopped to clear my throat of the knot of anticipation swelling there.  “Y-yes.”

“You know that I’m going to fuck you again, don’t you?”  That smooth quality to his voice had disappeared, submerged by something dark and guttural that spoke directly to my most basic sexual instincts.  “Just as hard and just a deep.”  And everything inside me throbbed at once at the promise.

I nodded, swallowing a moan before reminding myself there was no reason to hide my reaction to the way Adrian was speaking to me.  I wanted him to know I liked it, so he’d keep doing it.

“Tell me you like being directed and dominated.  Say it
out loud
.”

He was a dark silhouette between me and the moon, his features unreadable as I answered, “I want you to dominate me.  I like it.”

And I did.  There it was.  Said.  Done.  I refused to be ashamed of it, though I was not unaware that a subtle aspect of gentle humiliation was definitely part of the mix of sensations that made my pupils dilate and my pussy flutter at the mere thought of a dominating lover.  I was no different than the male executive who enjoyed being directed in bed, only too happy to give up control for a few hours when his life otherwise, all day every day, was about meeting one challenge after another.  About being the best all the time.  About leaving only the smallest of details to others, if those.  I might not have been the billionaire CEO of an oil company or a commercial development firm, but millions of dollars and future policy decisions hinged on my work.  I had every
right
to enjoy being dominated by a man.

Movement caught my eye, finally, as Adrian shirked off his tuxedo jacket and tossed it away carelessly.  With the quick jerk of his hand, his tie came loose, and he whipped it from his collar with an audible
zip
.  I realized as soon as he started to circle behind me what he was going to do, and I put up no resistance—only gulped a hard breath and whimpered despite myself—as the man used his tie to bind my wrists at my back.  When I felt his face nuzzling my hair, I leaned against him.  His arms came up around me, and his large, warm hands slid up from my ribcage to cup my bare breasts.  He kneaded the full mounds and plucked at my hardened nipples with thumb and fingertip until I was arching and cooing and reaching behind me for his belt with my bound hands.

I felt Adrian brush my searching, fumbling fingers away and unfasten his belt and his pants himself, and I leaned forward to get out of his way when he started working at the buttons on his shirt.  A moment later, a wad of white material landed several feet from us, and Adrian’s smooth chest pressed so warm against my back that I sighed out at the sensation.

“Are you ready for me?” he growled into my ear, rough stubble against my neck making me shiver and recoil in surprise in spite of the sudden delight.

“I am.  Please.”

“But I have to be sure, Miss Bloom.”

Knight’s arm encircled my waist, the fingers of his free hand threading into the hair at the back of my head, and he controlled my descent as he twisted and put me on my back on the silky fine sand.

“Oh, please,” I whimpered again as he palms slid up the backs of my thighs, bending and spreading my legs.

Adrian’s dark head dipped down to the wet, parted lips of my sex, and the lightest, quickest of laps from his hot tongue along my cleft had me keening and writhing.  His tongue was just rough enough, added just enough friction to the already overwhelming pleasure of his probing licks, that a hard climax loomed over me already.  Sensing it, perhaps in my halting breath or the tension of my thighs against his hands, he pulled his head back.  A shard of moonlight illuminated one side of his face, his expression, the unmitigated appetite clear in the taut lines and smoldering gaze.

“Please,” I begged again, and this made him smile and stick out his tongue and draw it slowly, torturously along my slit.  At the end, the tip of his tongue darted down to flick my pulsing clitoris, and I cried out and jerked beneath him.  “Please please please,” I implored, my voice caught between a gasp and a sob of overwhelming frustration.

When he straightened to his knees over me, I panted openly, trying to control myself, trying to come to grips with the obvious reality that part of Knight’s domination style was to draw out the pleasure and deny me a quick climax.  I told myself I could do this.  I had asked for it.

I wasn’t so certain of myself or how much denial I could stand when the broad head of Adrian’s cock—and only the head—pushed through my swollen lips to pierce me.  A flare of pain.  That delicious ache.  The insistent throb as my core demanded he fill it.

His hands were planted in the sand on either side of me, arms locked, and I thought I saw beads of sweat beginning to form along his temple and cheek.  God, yes, I thought.  I wanted this to be hard for him, too.  I wanted it to hurt—to physically ache—to be so near and not just
take
me.

But Adrian had his wants, as well.  Arms bending and shaking with tension, he bent over me and his tongue went after my nipples, flicking, lapping, circling.  Then he sucked the rigid nubs firmly, squeezing my breasts until he had to use his hands to hold down my hips.

His mouth released my nipple.  “Talk to me, Chloe.”  The sound of my first name stilled my restless squirming.  “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Too much.”  That was the first response that came to mind.  I lifted my head from the sand to stare down at the joining of our bodies.  “It hurts with you just inside me.  Please, more.  Fuck me.”

“This?” he demanded, giving only an inch more.  “This is what you want?”

“Yes, more!”

Another inch.  “How does it feel, Chloe?”

“God,” I cried, actual tears forming at the outer corners of my eyes, my arms burning with the strain of struggling against their binding.  “Like you’re pulling me apart.  All the way.  Please.  I need you.”

“You need me?”

Nodding, tossing my head, I sighed, “Yes.  I need it.  I need you.”

And I did.  Half measure was unbearable, straining the muscles of my entrance.  If I could just have felt him all the way inside me, thrust deep, then I could relax around him, accommodate his size and force.

Had I begged enough?  Was it that I said I
needed
him?  Adrian pounded his hips forward, driving himself full length between my legs, piercing me, pinning me, sending a shuddering wave of aching delight through my groin.  He didn’t draw back, though, didn’t set a rhythm of fast strokes to drive us both to our finale.

Instead he gathered me against him, carefully straightening, lifting me until he was on his knees with me balanced on his hips.  My full weight ground me down on his shaft, my clitoris crushed between our bodies.  I watched Adrian wet two fingers in his mouth but didn’t suspect his intention until I felt them worming their way into my tender anus.

My head fell back, and I gasped silently up at the starry sky, forcing Adrian to lean hard to prevent me from collapsing backward.

“Stay with me, Chloe,” he commanded, remaining perfectly still until I gathered myself enough to raise my head and look at his face.  “I want you to feel everything I’m feeling.” He thrust up under me once, grunting with the effort, seating himself even deeper inside me, if that was possible.  I swore I could feel his cock jerking and twitching inside me, like the walls of my pussy.  “I want you to watch me ride you and know
every moment
it’s me taking you.”

I nodded, beyond speech, almost beyond thought.

Adrian bucked up under me again, once, twice, huffing with exertion.  Then he was building a rhythm, building speed, pounding up into me.  The end of every thrust applied greater and greater pressure to my clitoris, until it started to burn and I could feel my orgasm barreling up fast.

For this, I found my voice.  “I’m going to come,” I panted.  “Please.  Let me come.  Tell me I can come.”

“Yes, Chloe, come.”  He barked out his response with clear triumph, and it took me a second to realize it was probably because I’d begged his permission.

With my face buried against Adrian’s shoulder, I smothered my own cry of bliss as my climax took light inside me like an explosion, a flash fire igniting in the sea air and the haze of lust.  My senses filled with shooting stars behind my eyelids and electrical bolts of pleasure coursing along my spine.  With lemon and champagne and the warm spice of rum brought out by the heat of Adrian’s body.  I shuddered against him over and over, jerking erratically, praying he was going to come soon so the friction on my over-sensitized button of nerves would stop before it drove me crazy.

I wasn’t thinking about the fact that he hadn’t used a condom, again.  Nor was I even actively aware of it as he lifted me from his shaft and laid me back on the sand.  I was just starting to breathe again, my limbs tingling and twitching, as he rolled me onto my stomach and nudged his cock between the cheeks of my ass.  Before I could protest that lubrication
was
necessary, I realized he wasn’t trying to penetrate me.  He ground against me, against the curve of my ass, until his body tensed and he cursed through clenched teeth.  Warm liquid spilled onto my lower back and down the cleft of my buttocks, Adrian’s hot breath against the nape of my neck.  At that moment, I felt as languid and content as I had just after the deep surrender Adrian had recommended,
the other kind
.

It was light already by the time I woke up.  The smell of the ocean.  The almost cool air on my bare skin.  I shifted in the sand and remembered where I was, what I’d done, what I’d let Adrian Knight do.

The morning was still new enough that the light didn’t hurt my eyes as I first opened them.  Untied now, I sat up, sore—everywhere.  My muscles were tired, weak.

A movement caught the corner of my eye.  There he was, Adrian standing at the edge of the lapping tide, dressed again in his tuxedo pants and shirt, but barefooted and thoughtfully drawing on a cigar and he stared out at the water.

Three days and two nights, I thought.  That wasn’t long enough to enjoy Ilha de Flor.  And only a week left in the cruise.  Then back to the East Coast, the city.  Back to a job I was growing less passionate about day by day, as it became less and less about mitigation and more and more about litigation, less about preventing environmental damage and more about defending clients once the damage had been done.  I shook my head at myself.  That was how I’d met Penn, when his family’s company had gotten themselves into hot water over gross environmental violations, though the client had been his father, not him.  Like that mattered.  Skirting the limits of ethical issues never turned out well.

As unobtrusively as possible, I gathered my clothing and started to dress.  I didn’t want to disturb Adrian’s thought, partly because I wasn’t sure how I felt just now.  Sometimes, after I’d let Penn get dominating with me, there was a kind of emotional drop afterward.  Better to find some privacy to process what had happened yesterday.

I had only gotten my panties on when I heard Adrian’s voice just behind me.  A whiff of cigar smoke, earthy and deep, tickled my throat.

“Don’t.”  I froze for a moment, partially bent to retrieve my bra.  Though I straightened and turned my head, I didn’t actually look back at Knight.  “Don’t put your clothes back on, not yet.”

“Why?”

“I have…”  He paused, and I heard him shift.  His voice was closer, just behind my ear, as he said, “I have a proposition for you.  I want you to stay on Ilha de Flor, with me.  Be my mistress, my submissive.”

“Your what?” I asked, blinking hard, gaping.

It occurred to me that Knight had never asked about my profession or where I lived, none of those questions that people typically used to gauge—to judge—one another.  I guessed I kind of appreciated that, but it also meant he had no idea who I was, what he was proposing I give up for…for a highly unorthodox arrangement, whatever the details.

“I have a life back home that I have to—”

“Do you like it?” he interjected.  “Do you like that life, Chloe?”

Chloe, not Miss Bloom.

“I…”

He waited for me to finish my response.  When it became obvious I couldn’t, Adrian nuzzled his face into my hair.  “Look directly ahead of you.”  I did.  There was a sandy path beyond the beach, leading back into the trees, up along a slope.  “That leads to my private villa.  Leave your clothes here.  Walk naked up that path.  That’s all you have to do.  Every day, every night will be like yesterday.”  He let out a breathy chuckle that I felt against my scalp, warm and tingling.  “More so.”

I didn’t move, either to gather my clothes or to walk up that path.

“Do it, Chloe,” he said.