Breaking Skye (8 page)

“Absolutely. You have no idea how much that rings true for me.” He gave her shoulders another squeeze, his dark brows drawing together. “I know you’re going under already, Skye. But tell me truthfully. Would your answer would be the same if I asked you at any other moment?”

“Yes. Of course. I couldn’t even say it now if it wasn’t the truth, I swear it.”

He smiled, his grip on her shoulders relaxing. “Good. That’s good.”

He slid his hands down, his eyes glittering in the soft lighting in the room, his mouth softening. He said quietly, “Tell me then, Skye, are you ready to begin our evening?”

“Oh, I’m ready.” She let out a quiet sigh. “Please.”

His smile widened. “Ah, you say that so nicely. It makes me want to do very bad things to you.”

She smiled back, her mind sinking lower and lower into that floating place where everything was pure pleasure.

“Did you dress as I told you to?”

“Yes, Adam.”

“Show me.”

Her brows drew together, then she smiled, took a small step back. She unbuttoned her blouse, her liquid brown gaze on his as she slipped the white cotton from her shoulders, revealing the simple, white lace of her bra. The lush rise of her breasts spilled over the top edges, making him want to fill his hands with them. And he would, later.

He gave a nod of his chin, and she unzipped her tight pencil skirt, let it slide down over her long legs until he could see the white lacy garter belt, the matching thong, the sheer white stockings contrasting with the high red heels she wore. She stepped out of the skirt, and he took it from her, tossed it onto a chair.

“Perfect,” he murmured. “Turn around and brace your hands on the wall.

She raised an eyebrow, then he saw the shift in her features—the loosening that signaled her yielding. She turned around.

He came up behind her, traced a finger down her spine, felt her shiver. Beautiful, silky skin. He smoothed his palm around her waist, over her stomach, felt her pulling it tight, moved his had up higher, over her breast.

She moaned quietly.

“Do you like my touch, Skye?”

“Yes,” she murmured.

“Do you want more?”

“Yes.”

He cupped her full flesh through the lace of her bra, squeezed as she pressed into his palm.

“What is it, Skye?”

“Touch me,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“Like this?”

He reached into her bra and tweaked her nipple hard.

“Oh! Yes…”

He moved in, then, yanked her body hard against his, her round buttocks against his growing erection. She surged back into him, and he let her for a moment before releasing her. She groaned.

“Stay perfectly still. I’ll be right back.”

He went to the leather case he’d left sitting next to the couch, pulled a few implements from it, chose one and set the rest on a side table.

Reaching out to stroke the soft skin of her gorgeous ass, he pinched the flesh here and there. She squirmed, which made him smile. He slipped his hand up to her side, grabbing and pinching the skin hard enough to make her pant, to make her squirm harder. He knew it hurt. But she was bowing back into him, then pulling away, bowing back again, loving the pain, handling it in a way that told him she needed to feel it as much as he needed to give it to her.

Yes, need to give her what she needs. Now.

He paused.

“Brace yourself again. And hold still, Skye.”

She was out of her head—she knew it. Just handing herself over to him. She couldn’t help it. She was exactly where she wanted to be.

She could sense him behind her, even though the lovely, hurting pinching had stopped. She pulled in a breath, exhaled, inhaled again. How long was he going to wait before he did something?

Before the thought was even completed she felt a hard smack on her ass.

“Oh!”

It hurt. But the reverberations of pain trembling through her also held that lovely edge of pleasure. He did it again, and again she cried out—with the pain, with the surprise of it.

“Adam…”

He smoothed his fingers over the sore spots. It felt wonderful.

“Is that a safe word, beautiful girl?”

“No. I just…what is that?”

“A leather strap.” He brought his arm over her shoulder and held the oblong piece of leather close to her face.

“Breathe it in,” he told her.

She did, inhaling the earthiness of the leather. And the scent—simply him—that made her tremble.

His face was close to her ear. He said quietly. “This is what I’m using, Skye. But you won’t always be told. There is some mind-fuck in the shock of it. Sometimes it will be a toy. Sometimes it will just be my hands. And I can do plenty with my bare hands.”

As if to prove himself, he buried his fingers in the back of her hair and pulled tight, tighter, drawing her head back. The sensation was…indescribable. It didn’t quite hurt. It was a statement. Of control. Of
ownership
.

He pulled tighter. She let out a gasp.

“I see you’re beginning to understand.”

He let her hair go and she thought he’d take the strap to her again, but instead he grabbed onto the tender flesh at her side, taking a handful of her flesh, dug his fingers in hard, making it really hurt.

“Oh…”

She tried to pull away—purely on instinct—and heard his evil chuckle.

“I love to see you dance like that for me. It’s beautiful.”

He hung on and gave her a swat on her ass with the strap, making her rise up on her toes.

“Oh!”

He smacked her again, and again, each strike landing harder, leaving her panting and breathless and full of need. Her head swam.

Suddenly he pulled her into his body again, and she sank into him, loving the feel of his strong arm around her waist. He lifted her hair with his free hand, kissing the back of her neck. She sighed.

He bit into her flesh. She moaned.

He bit again, kissed her sore skin as he pulled away.

“Again,” he ordered, and she knew to brace her hands on the wall. She spread her feet apart to steady herself.

“Ah, good girl.”

He started in again with the strap, pausing now and then to stroke her burning flesh with his hand, giving her a chance to breathe, to absorb the pain. To ride it out. And her head was absolutely emptying out. She was nothing but this sensation, and the awareness of him—his scent, the heat of his body, the aura of his command. Nothing else mattered but the flood of sensations. That and the insistent ache between her thighs, like a pulse-beat of desire.

“Adam, please,” she whispered, gasped.

He hit her harder with the strap, and she loved it, needed it. Needed him to touch her even more.

But the pain was rising, taking her to some foggy place where she floated. Her body relaxed all over, and she fell into his arms.

“I’ve got you, baby.”

He took her to the couch and laid her in his lap. Immediately he went to work with his hand between her thighs, pushing a few fingers into her, his thumb circling her clit.

She was almost limp in his arms, unable to do anything but rock her hip into his hand as pleasure spiraled, crested, wound through her system like some lovely, sinuous force.

“Come on, baby,” he urged. “Come for me.”

She did, heat spreading, shimmering over her skin, deep into her belly, her sex, until she was shivering all over, then jerking hard as the full force of her orgasm hit her like a bomb of pleasure exploding deep within her.

She knew she was moaning, mewling. She didn’t care. She couldn’t.

Then he was kissing her hands, over and over, and it was a new kind of pleasure, so amazing…but she couldn’t think about it, couldn’t think about anything. She curled into his chest, and he let her lay her head against his chest. She drifted off to the steady, low drumming of his heartbeat.

It was a few hours later when she woke, wrapped in a soft blanket on the couch. He was next to her in an instant.

“How do you feel?”

“Sleepy. Good. Like I need to stretch all over.”

“You should, tomorrow, anyway. It’ll be good for you. Will you remember to do it?”

“Yes. Probably.”

“Do it, Skye. I’ll ask.”

She laughed. “Okay, then.”

“Are you thirsty? Hungry?”

“Thirsty.”

He handed her a small bottle of juice. “Drink. I want you to hydrate and to keep your blood sugar steady.”

She accepted the bottle, swallowed a few sips of the sweet juice.

“Good?”

She nodded, drank some more.

“Now tell me if you think you’re okay to go home.”

“Yes, of course.”

“The same rule still stands when it comes to sub-drop. If you crash, you call me. Don’t be stubborn about it. This is as crucial as using your safe word. But I’ll call you tomorrow, anyway.”

She nodded.

“Let’s get you dressed.”

He helped her into her clothes, which, oddly, she found she needed. And it was so nice to have his hands on her, even in this simple way. It was…sweet, which wasn’t a word she’d have thought to use about him.

He drove her home, music playing quietly in the car, the San Francisco fog drifting by outside the windows. She felt safe, cocooned with him in his car.

She must have dozed off for a bit because suddenly he was saying her name, bringing her out of a dream about laying in his lap while he stroked her hair from her face, whispering to her.

“What?”

“I said you’re home.”

“Oh.” She had a momentary flutter of disappointment.

“Skye, look at me.” He took her chin in his hand, turned her to face him. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Fine. I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“Don’t apologize. It wasn’t your sleeping that made me ask. I saw something in your expression.”

“I’m…just trying to wake up.”

“Skye.” His tone was stern.

“And…I’m just a little…let down that it’s over.”

He grinned at her. “There’s my girl.”

My girl.

Ah, what a lovely shiver that sent through her.

She smiled.
“Let’s get you upstairs.”

He came around to her side of the car and helped her out, walked her up to her apartment as he had before. And as he had before, he made her promise again to call him if she felt panicky or stressed, then checked with her to make sure she felt okay before he kissed her cheek and left.

She
was
okay. Wasn’t she?

It had been a wonderful evening. There were a few things going on in her head she needed to sort out, but not tonight. She was so tired. Apparently kink took a lot out of a person.

She undressed, taking off her garter belt and bra and bringing them into bed with her, just to have some of the experience with her. Some of
him
, maybe.

Yes, an amazing evening. He was an amazing man. An amazing Dom. She couldn’t have asked for more going into this.

Her body was still humming with pleasure, with the loose-limbed sensation of a body well-used. She loved it.

She had no idea where her thong had ended up, she realized, smiling to herself as she drifted into sleep.

CHAPTER NINE

Adam had called the day after their night together, as promised—and each day since. They’d talked about the projects each of them were working on, compared art galleries they’d been to—it turned out they both loved the surrealists and black and white photography—food they loved, even argued over films they’d seen. Somehow he always won the arguments. There was something attractive about the fact that he was so intelligent—intelligent enough to take her on and change her mind about a few things. She realized then that one issue she’d too often had with the men she’d dated was that they weren’t quite smart enough. She knew now she needed a man who was smarter than she was in order to respect him in the way a man should be respected. And his mind turned her on as much as his big, beautiful body did, his lush mouth, the wicked glint in his eyes. His even more wicked hands.

They made plans for Tuesday evening, and she could hardly wait. Once more she made a ritual out of getting ready, and she understood she was really preparing herself for him.

Dressed this time in the simple knit sheath dress he’d asked for—demanded—and a pair of black stiletto-heeled boots, she stood in front of his door once more. She clenched her fingers, her pulse racing with excitement, a little fear at what he might do to her. And a damp heat already spreading between her thighs.

He opened the door as soon as she knocked, dressed all in evil black, which she was coming to understand was classic Dominant garb. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face as he pulled her inside, into his embrace, and held her for several moments.

He whispered into her hair, “Beautiful, as always, Skye. Come with me.”

She laughed a little. “There’s no conversation? No preamble? Just going right into it?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Yes.”

The way he said it offered no room for argument or even a reply, and she knew the scene had just started. The heat spread into her belly, her limbs, as he took her coat. She found she didn’t want to talk anymore.

When he took her hand and led her into the dining room she followed with her head bowed, her body absolutely on fire already. 

The light in the dining room was dim, but she could still see the carved legs of the antique dining table. All of the chairs had been pulled away to ring the edge of the room. No artwork in this room, just enormous, ornately-framed mirrors on every wall. On a heavy, antique sideboard tall silver candelabra held ivory tapers, the flames making the shadows dance.

He turned to her. “Take your clothes off, Skye. And get on the table.”

“Wh—what?” Her legs went weak.

“Shh. Just do it.”

He reached out and slid his hand around the back of her neck, heating her skin instantly. Her body filled with the aching need to please him, the ache that had been left to build all week.

She began to remove her clothing, her hands shaking. Her mind was emptying out, allowing her to do this, to let go. And with the last shred of reason she realized it was Adam’s mere presence which was doing this to her head.