BlindHeat (11 page)

He gave her hand a squeeze. “It’s a temptation to have you.
Don’t doubt that. But the lessons go much faster when sex is denied.”

“Denied? But I thought you said—”

He touched her lips with his finger again. The vibration was
still there, but stronger.

“Patience. All will be clear soon. But know this, I will not
use you, sweetheart. I will not take advantage of the vulnerability I demand.
For now, I am not a lover, but a teacher. After the goal is accomplished…that
is another matter. We can work that out when the time comes. Understand?”

“No.”

“You will.”

He nodded toward the light switch by the door. “You’ll want
the lights out for this, I think.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re feeling shy yet and you’ll be completely
naked.”

“No I won’t.”

He repeated the same trick, sliding a finger down her back,
right along the ridge of her spine. “Yes, you will,” he murmured in a voice
that brought back her complete loss of control in the park, lured her with its
rich tones.

She turned off the light.

“Stand here,” he said, guiding her to the center of the
little rag rug next to her bed.

Allie might not be able to tell one face from another, but
her ability to see in the dark was exceptional. Only bra, panties, stockings
and shoes remained. She chose to remove them herself, hands trembling when she
bent to undo the straps at her ankles. Marcus’ breath was an audible intake.
More due to his imagination, she was sure, than anything he could see.

She pushed her shoes under the chair and set her foot on the
seat while she rolled down a stocking, wondered if he really meant what he’d
said about sex. She didn’t believe it, and that was fine, because she wanted
him tonight. She needed him connected skin to skin, penetrating her, taking her
past the frantic teen fumblings that had left her unsatisfied, to what she
believed with him would be satisfying beyond her ability to imagine. He had the
air of a man who knew how to satisfy, even though he’d not carried that air of
promise through to fulfillment. Yet.

He was in his shirtsleeves and slacks, his tie, shoes and
socks the only additional items of clothing he parted with. His shirt was
unbuttoned, tiny beads of sweat glistened in the sparse hairs framed by white
linen.

“Kneel,” he said when she was naked—before she said she was
ready.

She knelt on the rug, sitting back on her heels. He sat on
the bed, his knees wide to make some room for her in the small space left
between desk and bed. He leaned over and pulled open the curtain above her bed.
Moonlight spilled through the slatted blind, striping her body. He liberated
the stone from her grasp and set it on the window sill.

“Trust me? I want an honest answer now. One that comes from
what your body tells you. Not what your brain thinks you should say.” He
touched fingers to a spot just above her navel. “You should feel it here.”

She considered. A high, fluttering sensation, like the soft
beat of butterfly wings slowed and then settled to quiet.

“I shouldn’t trust you,” she said, half to herself. “I know
I shouldn’t.” He looked like a shadowy demon in the dark, his pale-silver eyes
beyond human. “But I do,” she said at last.

“Excellent. Now look into my eyes for a moment. Focus there
while you breathe. Imagine them as black pools ringed with silver, like water
in the moonlight. Do you see?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice going soft, echoing his moody
chant.

“Breathe in the silver light, slowly, and as you do imagine
it flowing down your spine, like quicksilver filling a tube, filling a little
more with each breath.”

He waited. On her fourth breath he said, “You see?”

“Mmm.”

“Close your eyes now. The silver glows brighter as you
breathe, like you’re lit from within.”

“Yes.”

“Good girl. Now let’s take it a step further. The particles
that make up the light spin and dance, hum with energy. Watch how they spin
faster when you breathe in, slow as you breathe out.”

She saw exactly what he described, as if the light was made
up of thousands of glittering specks, she watched them spin and swirl.

“It’s like glitter in a tube of liquid,” she said. “I
breathe in and it shakes them up, out and they settle, sink lower in the tube.”
She peeked up at him.

His pleased smile made her feel as if she turned into
swirling spirals of glitter, dancing at his command.

“Good girl,” he said. “Now keep those eyes closed. See the
light. Breathe the light. Become the light. Your skin is your connection to the
world. It can see, feel, hear, taste. Right now it can tell you the exact
places where moonlight touches.”

Allie’s lashes fluttered.

“No peeking. Prove this to yourself. Take a deep breath,
hold it. Let the energy of your breath reach to your skin, notice how each cell
responds. Now, hold the breath inside, and hold your right hand above your
right breast. There are three stripes of light across your skin. Let the energy
in your fingers guide you. Feel the humming with them and place one fingertip
in the center of each stripe.”

Allie did, and it was probably the power of suggestion but
she felt the humming intensely in some places and not in others. Was aware of a
milky taste on the back of her tongue. She pressed fingertips to the places
where the humming was most intense, all five fingers rather than the three he’d
requested.

“Open your eyes.”

Each finger rested in the exact center of a moonlit stripe.
Five stripes instead of the three he’d led her to expect.

“This is just the beginning of what you can do, sweetheart.”

She couldn’t move, couldn’t take her eyes away. “How?” The
light, fluttery feeling kicked up in her stomach again.

“Breathe,” he said gently. “Take yourself back to center.”

She tried. Dropping her hand to her lap, she drew a breath,
told herself this was nothing special, nothing scary. Stage tricks.

On cue he said, “This next part is a trick. I don’t want to
launch into a distracting chemistry lesson now, so we’ll keep the explanation
of how I do this for later. I’m warning you because it’s frightening if you
aren’t expecting it. Ready?”

Allie nodded.

“Hold this for me.” He drew one hand from behind his back
and put a slender white candle in her hand. Allie didn’t see the box he’d held
earlier and assumed it was on the bed behind his back. She wrapped both hands,
one above the other, around the candle.

“Inhale. Good. Exhale. Inhale one more time. Hold it.” He
withdrew the other hand, brought it between them. Marcus opened his fingers
with a flicking motion and a small ball of fire appeared in his hand. The
sudden release of her breath extinguished the flame.

“Um. You were supposed to hold that breath, sweetheart.”

“How did—?”

He cupped her face with both his hands, kissed her to
silence and sat back. “Let’s try this again.”

He said it was a trick. But even so, how did fire sit in his
palm without burning?

“Allie, are you concentrating?” His hand was behind his
back.

“Yes,” she said.

“Breathe deep. Hold it.”

He brought his hand out. Light flared. His other hand came
around to guard the flame, cradled it in a way that while she could see the top
of the flame she couldn’t see the area where flame should meet skin.

“Now, breathe normally, exhaling gently. That’s perfect.
Light the candle from the flame.”

The wick caught with a soft flare and the trembling in her
hands carried to the flame, making it quiver. Wax went liquid with the heat, a
slow trickle.

Inside her, heat built and went liquid as if he’d lit her at
the same time they lit the candle. He folded his hands together and the cupped
flame vanished. Then he took the candle from her. Wax trickled down over his
fingers, but he seemed unaware, unhurt.

“Look at my eyes, sweetheart.” He held the candle at arm’s
length. “Do you see the reflection of the flame?”

“Yes.”

“Adjust my arm’s position until you see it reflected in the
center of my iris.”

She did.

“Now watch the flame there. Good, that’s it. Just relax and
breathe.”

Between her legs desire burned inside, quivered and flared
like the flame she watched, sent liquid trickling down her thighs. The scent of
her need rose, mingled with the scent of melting wax.

“Now close your eyes and tell me what you see.”

“I see the flame floating in an inky pool.”

“Perfect. Now breathe in and watch the flame rise.”

She obeyed, shifting her knees underneath her as she did,
pressing thighs together. It felt as if she were going to melt with the rising
heat.

“Watch it. Watch it dance in the darkness. There’s a halo
around it. It grows and shrinks with your breath, a rise and fall like the
swell and fall of a wave, like the ocean, like a sound. Can you hear it?”

“Yesss.” Her sigh flowed with the sound. The aura around the
flame changed from white to blue, to purple and back down through the color
sequence with each breath. Each color had a tonal quality that rose and fell
like notes going up and down a scale. The waves—light and sound—rippled through
her being, expanding outward, the way rings formed around raindrops striking a
puddle.

“Open your eyes into mine, Allie.” She did, saw twin flames,
one flickering at the center of each pupil. A stinging sensation swept over her
skin where fingers of light licked her. The burning hunger in her pussy
consumed her. She needed something inside her. His cock. His tongue. His
fingers. Her fingers. Something she could use to fuck away the burn.

“Pay attention, Allie. Use your breath to maintain control.”

The flame in his eyes rose and fell with her breath.
Impossible. The candle was to her left, held just above and behind her
shoulder. Her breathing wouldn’t stir it.

“It’s not real,” she said out loud to reassure herself. She
wanted to look back at the source of light but was unable to tear her gaze from
the magnetic pull of Marcus’ eyes.

“Don’t resist the fire, Allie. Embrace it.” His voice flowed
over her skin like cool water, trickled down her spine. Fingers of light and
heat licked at her body, coiled in her core.

“It burns,” she whimpered. “I can’t.”

“Like can’t burn like. Be the light. Be the heat. Be the
flame.”

The air around her crackled. She felt more like the candle,
melting into the air. Liquid trickled over her ankles, her pussy weeping with
need. She wanted to be a flame, licking Marcus’ cock, drizzling him with molten
desire.

“Touch yourself.”

How could he be so calm? Unmoved?

He was moving the candle, she could sense light changing,
but saw through a red haze. He aimed light like a laser to ignite new
sensation. He looked like a dark-haired demon wreathed in flame, his skin
painted in rose and gold. Not real, she knew, mind games running away with her,
but she craved going into that fire with him wrapped around her. Her fingers
moved toward the hotspots he created.

She pinched her nipples, like she might pinch out the flame
on a taper, and it worked until she released the pressure and the burn flared
again. She pinched hard, only letting go when the pressure was more intense
than the burn. Another hotspot flared to life centered over her clit.

“Not fair,” she whimpered.

“You’re in charge. You control everything that happens with
your awareness.”

She was aware of him. A man who called fire out of the air.
A man who had her ready to beg him to put out the one he’d kindled between her
legs.

“I’m a flame, Marcus. Consumed by you. On fire.”

“You want to come?” he asked.

“You have to fuck me.”

“Touch yourself. Slide your fingers inside that sweet pussy
and take what you crave.”

“No I want you to fuck me,” she cried, not caring if every
neighbor heard. “Fuck me where it burns,” she sobbed. “Make me come by fucking this
burn away.”

Heat flared so bright in her clit that she had to press
fingers against it, her eyes snapping open as she did.

“That’s it,” he said softly, his voice going husky. “You’re
going to make yourself come for me, sweetheart.”

He steadied her and guided her to the bed, onto her back
with her hips just over the edge. He pushed her thighs apart, but instead of
settling his body over hers, he knelt, holding the candle high above her, as he
urged her to rub her pussy.

“Fight fire with fire,” he said.

Then he tipped the candle so that liquid wax splashed her
nipple. A velvet rain that landed with a soft plop and a sting—tightened
pulling at the sensitive skin as it cooled. She thrust her fingers inside
herself, moaning. More wax drizzled, coating the other nipple. The humming
sensation took over, erupted into tremors, shaking her. Her head whipped from
side to side and a mewing sound bubbled up in her throat, ripped free in an
animal cry.

She watched as if from outside herself as he pushed her
fingers away, inserted the base of the candle and fucked her with it, the flame
dancing wildly above his fingers.

She should be afraid.

She should want him to stop.

She wanted more, deeper.

Her pussy clenched around the slick length of the wax when
he pulled out, quivered when he slid it back in. She was writhing in the grip
of something both terrifying and beautiful. The boundaries between what she was
and wasn’t, between her and everything else receded, threatened to vanish
altogether.

“Let go,” he said. “Don’t fight it. Breathe deep and let go
when you exhale.”

When she exhaled the candle went out and the orgasm snapped
the last thread of self-control. All that remained was the sound of his voice,
commanding, “You’re the flame now. Melt the candle with your fire.”