Knowing the Ropes (6 page)

The orgasm seized her and wouldn’t let go. She bucked and thrashed and howled wordlessly. A flood of moisture escaped her pussy. She strained against the ropes as she arched back, all her muscles tightening and then releasing abruptly so she sagged, using the ropes to hold her up. Her pussy still convulsed, but more gently. Nick embraced her from behind, murmuring soothing nonsense like someone might say to a crying child. “Hush, I’ve got you. You’re all right. I’ve got you.”

“More than all right. Wow.” He felt so good against her, so hot and hard and yet so safe. His cock, rampant inside his jeans, pressed against her tender butt, but right now she was more interested in his strength, in the protection of his arms.

At least at first. Then her brain started coming back on line just enough to remind her the night was still young, she was still horny, and Nick was still fully dressed. She pushed back against him, grinding her ass against his crotch. The denim of his jeans felt harsh and coarse, as if she could feel every individual thread at ten times their actual size against her delightfully abused flesh, a weird and wonderful sensation, but not as wonderful as the way Nick reacted. One of the hands that had been around her waist travelled up to her breasts, pinching first one nipple, then the other, , exactly hard enough.

The other strayed between her legs to circle her sensitized clit. Within seconds, Selene felt stars dancing on her skin and groaned something that she meant to be
please
, though it didn’t sound much like English.

“Come, Selene,” Nick growled in her ear. “Come for me.”

She flew apart again in a burst of light, a different sensation than coming as he spanked her, but just as heart-poundingly, cunt-clenchingly good. Not as devastating, though—she could stand afterward without relying on the rope, and could even formulate an answer when Nick asked her, “Are you up for a flogging? Or would you rather move straight to the part of the evening when we fuck like crazed weasels?”

Two things occurred to her. One was that he sounded smugly certain she wanted to fuck him, and normally she’d be tempted to make him work for it no matter how interested she might be—but since she’d realized she wanted to fuck him about three-point-two seconds after meeting him, she couldn’t be bothered to pretend offense. The other was that he was asking a trick question. Luckily, it was a trick question with an answer fairly obvious to her lust-saturated brain. “Both, please. First the flogging and then the fucking.” She hesitated, then added, “Unless, of course, you have another idea.”

“I like the way you think. Now spread your legs a little more.” She complied, wondering if he was moving straight to the fucking after all. Instead, he crouched down and half crawled between her legs to grab something that had been tucked just out of her sight on the other side of the doorframe: a flogger with dark green falls and a leather-wrapped handle.

She shivered in delight.

Once he stood again, he reached around Selene’s body, dragging the falls across her breasts. They were suede, deliciously soft as they passed over her nipples, but she suspected they were heavy enough to make an impression when he wanted to. Not
Master and Commander
at all, though. This wasn’t the kind of whip that would draw blood but the kind that would draw her in a sensual spell. It already was, moving so lightly and lovingly across her skin.

Now Nick moved to her back, letting the strands of suede tease from her shoulder blades to her ass, and lower, onto her thighs. Just feather-light caresses at first, nothing more. Then he started to strike lightly, again starting at her shoulders and working down. The suede danced on her skin, kissing it. On her shoulders, it felt like a massage. On her hot butt and the tender inside of her thighs, it stung in a beautiful way. When she was sighing and pushing back for more, Nick stepped up the pace, hitting faster and harder. Now he was focusing on her ass and thighs, and there was a definite sting to the dance, the falls snapping against her in a way that made her yelp but also made her rise up on her toes in delight. So good. She could get lost in this rhythm, ride the sensual sting forever. Nick had stepped up the pace again, but it was gradual enough that her pleasure caught up. A couple of times, a good whack caught the spot where her ass and thighs met or curled around to her inner thighs, and she yelped. But the constant rhythm of the suede, though stingy and thuddy, was also soothing. Selene was aroused, keenly aware of Nick behind her, of the flogger on her skin, of her hard, crinkled nipples, aching, empty cunt and throbbing clit. At the same time, she felt no great urgency to do anything about the arousal. Maybe it was because she’d already come a few times, but there was something meditative about the way Nick was beating her, about the steady assault on her senses. She was having an in-body out-of-body experience, and she loved it.

She might have been happy to stay in that blissed-out place for the rest of the night if Nick hadn’t said, “Come now”—while he let the lashes flick up over her pussy. It was light, light as the first caresses had been, but that contact and the command in his voice were enough to shatter her, send her flying into pieces, then abruptly back down to earth. She sagged in her bonds, limp and happy. Nick’s arms wrapped around her from behind, supporting her.

“Once you’ve caught your breath,” he whispered, “I think it’s time for the crazed weasel fucking.”

Selene couldn’t manage to talk coherently yet, but she couldn’t agree more.

Chapter Six

They might have run into the bedroom or they might have floated. In any case, she wasn’t paying much attention to the trip, just to Nick’s firm hand on her tender ass, guiding her.

She had only seconds to look around the bedroom—a big bed with a heavy dark-wood frame, low-slung dresser, more erotic photography on the walls. Then Nick started to undress, and all she could do was stare, not even able to muster the brain cells to help him.

Nice chest and surprisingly muscular shoulders. Not much hair on his chest, and his skin was very fair, fairer than her own, but it made him look like he was carved from marble. Long, lean legs, defined enough that she could see the cut in his hip muscles, a little dimple she’d love to lick. Maybe it wasn’t a perfect body, but damned if she could see any faults in it.

Then again, after what he’d just done to her, he could transform himself into Jabba the Hutt, and for a few minutes he’d still look pretty good to her lust-dazed eyes.

She managed to unfreeze herself long enough to draw down his bikini briefs.

All that and a fat cock too? Damn, she was a lucky girl!

Instinct and desire made her drop to her knees, open her mouth expectantly. He shook his head. “Tempting, but not now. I want to fuck you while your ass is still warm from my hand. Get up and bend over the bed. Stick your bottom out for me.”

She posed herself as directed.

The sound of a tearing condom wrapper, a few agonized seconds of waiting, and Nick’s hands gripped her hips and his cock pushed into her.

No preliminary teasing, because she was so wet there was no point in waiting. One push and he was in to the hilt, his balls against her tender ass, his fingers digging into her, and all she could do was gasp, “Fuck, yes!”

“Come on my cock,” he said. “Come all you want.” And that was the last articulate thing either of them said for a while.

He wasn’t gentle, not at all. Wild and rough and fierce, not lingering for her pleasure, but chuckling under his breath every time she gasped or moaned. He pounded into her, and she drove back onto him, trying to make it even harder, trying to take him so deep inside her that when he came, she’d taste it. He slapped at her ass and thighs, and each slap drove her a little further toward madness. With each thrust, her breasts bobbed, rubbing her nipples on the chenille bedspread, stimulating her further.

And then he turned his attention from her ass to her breast, slapping at those.

The orgasm, she swore, didn’t start in her cunt, but on the deliciously abused surfaces of her breasts and butt, and its waves rippled inward until she was contracting around Nick and making the kind of crazy noises she’d always thought were sure signs of faking it.

Nick swore and bucked into her as he came. The hand still braced on her hip clenched, and that little extra pleasure/pain pushed her into another orgasm. Then his weight sagged on her, and they both collapsed onto the bed.

Nick woke up feeling a bit smug, a bit possessive, and a bit infatuated.

And whatever his brain might have to say about feeling that way—”stupid” and “crazy” featured prominently—the rest of him was too busy paying attention to the throbbing of his cock to listen for long. Never mind that they’d woken up in the middle of the night and fucked again, that time more slowly, with Selene exploring his body as thoroughly as he’d explored hers the night before.

Did it damn well too, eagerly and adventurously. And she knew how to let him lie back and enjoy while she rode him but in a way that still left him feeling in charge. Very hot. And definitely worth repeating.

He felt a bit like a kid, all wrapped up in his shiny new playmate, without the slightest bit of perspective. But perspective was highly overrated, Nick reasoned, compared to enjoying the moment—the bright morning, Selene’s silken body against him, still pliant with sleep but starting to stir, the scent of last night’s sex rising off her and stimulating him toward the next round, and no place in particular to be except…

He sat up and swore at the clock, which assured him it was nearly noon.

Selene went from dozing to wide awake in an instant. “What’s wrong?”

“Minor annoyance,” he soothed. “I’m supposed to go to Garth and Alison’s today. They’re having a barbecue to show off their new pool. Which wouldn’t be a problem if I hadn’t told them I’d be there early to help them set up, and it’s not early anymore.”

He ran one hand over Selene’s curvaceous side, wanting nothing more than to bury himself in her body. Curling up for a little more sleep with her came a close second. But he’d made a promise. Dammit. He threw himself from the bed, saying, “So, since we can’t spend all day in bed, want to come to a pool party instead? It’s going to be hot again—and not just because of you.”

She grinned. “Sure, though I’m kind of lacking a bathing suit. Or clean clothes, for that matter. Anything I can do to help us get out the door?”

“Feed the cats upstairs?” He handed her a key. “Kate and Stephanie are away this weekend, and I said I’d look after them. Their place is laid out differently from this one; you’ll walk right into the kitchen, and the cat food should be right out on the counter. Don’t let the little furry con-men get to you too much; Kate and Stephanie spoil ’em wicked, and I was up there for a while yesterday.”

After that warning, Selene wasn’t too surprised to be mugged by a fat, elderly orange tabby and a half-grown Siamese, both crying and wrapping themselves around her ankles, trying to convince her they hadn’t been fed or petted in weeks. It was tempting to stay and give them all the attention they craved, but she figured if she did, she might hold Nick up—and if she’d planned to do that, there’d be more interesting ways to do it.

When she came back downstairs, the shower was running.

Selene tried to stop herself, telling herself firmly that Nick was on a schedule, that he would have asked her to join him in the shower if he’d figured he had time, that it probably against some submissive’s code to take that much initiative.

Then she decided,
what the hell
. She had to take a shower anyway, and if he didn’t want to take the time to fool around, it wouldn’t take much longer for her to rinse off with company.

She shucked her dress, left it in a silky red heap on the kitchen floor and stalked into the bathroom.

Nick definitely had his priorities in line. Towel warmer. Plushy, big towels. Slate tiles on the shower walls. Dual showerheads, the kind that delivered a wide, soft spray like tropical rain, strong but gentle on her skin as she slipped in. It was just about the perfect temperature for this already warm morning and for bodies sticky with sex and sweat.

Nick didn’t turn around when she joined him, but something in his body language shifted. Selene translated it as “pretending not to notice”.

Fine. Two could play that game.

She grabbed the soap—it was a hefty bar, slightly irregular in shape and smelling like lemongrass—worked up a lather and started to wash his back.

He managed to maintain his pretense of silence for about fifteen seconds longer, until she ran her soap-slick hands down his spine to cup his butt.

Only then did he turn his head and say, “It took you long enough. Now keep going.” He sounded unspeakably smug and entitled, but tongue-in-cheek about it.

She wasn’t sure whether the appropriate response was to say,
Yes, sir
, like a good little sub or to respond teasingly, as his tone dared her to do.

Interesting question. As far as she could figure out, if she was cheeky, she’d get spanked for being naughty. If she was “good”, she’d get spanked as a reward for being good. Talk about your win-win situation!

So she said, “Yes, sir,” in a slightly mocking voice, with a sarcastic little knee-dip and head bob like a Victorian maidservant trying to cover the fact she thought her employer was an idiot. Then she stuck out her tongue at him. She kept on washing his butt as she did. Why move her hands away from those glorious globes one second before she had to?