Love Beat (31 page)

For the next few moments the room spins away as he invades my mouth. I stretch out lazily beneath him, but soon he pulls away.

“Up you get. We’re touring the workshops this morning with Barney. But first, there’s something I have to do.”

Lazy and warm I ease myself out of the covers and stand before him, still flushed with sleep. He sweeps me with a look, the heat in his eyes sending a shimmer though me.

“Delicious. Put your arms out straight, legs spread wide.” He walks around me, running his hands over me, lingering on my breasts and the curves of my bottom. “Bend over.”

I bend low as he caresses me slowly, his fingers lingering near my tiny opening. I whimper as he eases inside a little way.

“Relax. Feel good?”

What a question.
I gasp. But as his hand lingers, my outrage dies away and I lean into his touch. It feels weird but oddly disturbing and now I start to pulse gently. I smile up at him, coloring a little.

He gives me a knowing smile and pats me on the rump. “I told you it might be fun. Now for something new. Stay where you are.”

I hear him wash his hands then he takes something out of a drawer.

I tense. “What are you doing?”

When he comes back, he’s holding up a long coil of soft, thick rope. The gleam in his eyes warns me once more I’m in unknown territory.

“We’re going to try out some rope bondage.”

He’s an expert at this, like at so much else. I watch spellbound in the mirror as the rope passes back and forth over my body, around my ribcage, between my legs, forcing open the cheeks of my bottom, thrusting my breasts forward, and hauling at either side of my pulsing center.

As the cruel cobweb takes shape, he glances up from time to time with a grin. “Surprising how useful a youth spent in boats and climbing rocks can be for someone with my tastes. I became an expert at knots very early on. Now for the money shot.”

With a few flicks of his long fingers, he fashions a large, elaborate knot and positions it precisely between my legs, finishing off the tie with a flourish at the back of my waist.

I’m tightly trussed, the ropes spaced apart so they make the shape of a swimsuit, but with my every intimate place fully displayed. As I flex, my legs the final knot tightens at the very peak of my slit, making me throb.

He eyes me with a gleam. He can hardly keep his hands off me. “One day we might try some suspension. Here a few simple knots will have to do. Move around the room. Tell me if anything hurts or chafes.”

I move about, bending and stretching then do a couple of arabesques. “It feels tight,” I report, being honest but selective. I feel a whole lot of things about this, most of them confusing, all of them hot. “It’s very controlling. Oddly, it feels
safe
.” I stare at him, bewildered. “Is it supposed to?”

It’s also extremely arousing, but I keep that part to myself.
He probably knows
.

His voice drops to a silky murmur. “Get dressed. Let’s hope your jeans stretch over the ropes. If not, try a skirt. No underwear. A sexy top would be nice. Better cover up with the sweater. When we take it off we’ll see how far the wind can raise your nipples.”

* * * *

I follow him into the breakfast area feeling tightly trussed and acutely self-conscious, but under Cade’s borrowed sweater, nothing much shows. Soon the rope corset feels normal.

The only snag is the persistent, maddening pressure between my legs. It’s vividly arousing. I hope our walk will be short.

We eat alone. The others are already at work. Afterward he fondles my rear with a knowing grin and we go outside.

Barney, bluff and hearty this morning, drives us back along the rough track I saw from the plane. He and Cade talk about orders and shipments and after a while, we come to a collection of outbuildings. Each one is a separate workshop and surprisingly busy. Last night’s laid-back hippies are hard at work and clearly skilled craftsmen. Everyone seems glad to see us, and they talk willingly about what they’re doing.

Barney shows us round the smithy where the jewelry is forged then a workroom with a precision lathe where the pieces are finished. We wave to Aria, who is sitting at a vast drawing board set up at one end of the long room, poring over an elaborate design for a new piece.

After the clatter of the metalworkers, we find quieter rooms full of weavers, women knitting traditional fishermen’s sweaters and even lace-makers.

Past the workshops is a collection of music studios where last night’s band is busy working on a song. I learn Izzy’s hoping for a new hit.

I should find all this really exciting. Mel wanted me to take notes. We never waste a chance of a good story.

But the rope’s too distracting.

Cade glances at me from time to time, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Hard to concentrate? Good. Let’s walk along the beach.”

He turns to Barney. “We’ll walk back. See you later.”

“Sure.” Barney eyes us with a grin. He sees us out and calls after us. “Izzy’s flying in after lunch.”

* * * *

The beach is deserted. We splash and run about, chasing each other and throwing skipping stones like children. It’s glorious.

Every so often Cade pulls me into his arms as the surf froths around our knees and sand hisses between our toes. He leads me along the foot of the cliffs a little way until he comes to a deep gash in the rocks. As he draws me inside, I peer round.

After the chill wind along the shore, the heat in the cavern is a shock. The rocky overhang makes it as sheltered as a cave, but it’s really a cleft in the cliff face. Sunlight streams in from the west.

The surf roars just a few feet away but inside here the rocks are dry and the sand is hot and soft. The sun has been shining here all morning and the rocks are hot to the touch. Light flickers over the sheer cliff face, reflected from the sun-splashed wavelets thundering up the beach. Set into the rock I see two rusty metal rings at about head height.

“This is an old fisherman’s cave. They store boats in here in the winter.” Gently he turns me round to face him and lifts my trainers, strung together by their laces, away from my neck where I’d taken them off to paddle.

“We’ll lose these. Strip.”

I unfasten my jeans and slowly peel away my top. He walks around me, caressing my tightly trussed body. Pressure from the ropes already has me tingling with arousal after our walk as the money-knot works its magic. Now his touch almost sends me over the edge.

“Beautiful. I’ve been waiting to get a good look at you all morning.” He pushes me back against the warm rock. “Now grab hold of those rings. You’re going to keep hold of them till I tell you to let go. Keep still.”

Wonderingly I reach up and grasp them while he pushes my feet wide apart. Hot sand spills over my toes. His eyes darken as he looks me over, his expression remote and absorbed then he starts to kiss me.

As the sun beats down and the waves whisper softly farther down the beach, his lips touch me with tiny kisses all down one side of my body then all down the other, lingering on my splayed thighs, my tightly bound breasts and my tight, erect nipples.

It’s like worship, disturbing and intensely moving. It’s increasingly hard to keep still.

As he leans up again, he places his hands on the rock on either side of me, his look strangely intense. “You look like Ariadne chained to the rocks, waiting for the monster.” He kisses me on the forehead. “And you think I am a monster, don’t you, Tunis?” He kisses me again. “I hoped you’d never find out I was the Panther. Ever since that night, I’ve longed to see you like this, but I dreaded you knowing. And now I hate myself.” He closes his eyes and leans his forehead against mine. His breathing is ragged, his face anguished.

What?
I stand very still, alarmed now. “What’s wrong?

“Help me, Tunis. I don’t want to be a monster. But the more I do this with you, the more I—” He breaks off, like he daren’t finish his thought.

Slowly I let go of the rings and reach up my arms. “Look, Cade, no hands. I’m not chained up. I’m free.”

To prove it, I wind my arms around his neck and lay my cheek close to his, my low murmur echoing off the hot, silent rocks. “I’m here because I want to be here. I’m here of my own free will. If you’re a monster, then so am I.”

His mouth fastens on mine, his kiss deep and long. At last he pulls away. “You mean that? Really?”

I drop a light, reverent kiss on his breastbone and lay my forehead against his chest. “Yes, I mean it. Really.”

I breathe again as a smile dawns in his face like sunrise and the anguish fades.

He gives my nipple a friendly tweak. “Better get dressed now. Time to go back.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Tonight Izzy’s expected back for supper and all the workers and craftsmen will be coming over to party. Until then we have the afternoon to ourselves. Without really meaning to, we spend most of it in our room.

Something between us has changed. Maybe not for long, but it affects us both. Our lunch lies neglected on a table at the side. We have eyes only for each other.

With sunlight slanting through the windows, Cade finally unwinds my rope during long, slow sex that sends me to the brink time and again. Finally I find release at the precise point that he finds his own and afterward we lie together, limp and content, him thoughtful, me sleepy and sated with pleasure.

After a while he insists I play table for his late lunch. When he teases me with morsels of food in hidden places that he seeks and captures with his tongue, I giggle and writhe. Then I take my revenge by spreading chocolate mousse all over his erection, topping it with a cherry and licking it off very slowly, savoring every mouthful. “Now, for dessert.”

He eyes the wreck of our meal with a sardonic flicker. “You just had it.”

“I’m still hungry,” I say softly. I lean over him, kissing along his breastbone, licking his sharp little nipples with long, lustful sweeps of my tongue. Slowly I head south over his abdomen toward his strong, muscular thighs. There I find his erection, still wet and a little sticky with traces of missed dessert and now swollen to a hard, silky purple from all my attention. It twitches as it lies along his stomach.

“You’re breaking one of the first rules.” His soft murmur makes me smile, but his expression is stern.

I feel a twinge of dismay. “You’re kidding, right?”

I touch the head of his bulging erection with the softest brush of my lips. He tastes delicious…

“You take charge only when I tell you.” He’s eyeing me steadily, a soft gleam in his eyes.

It’s a warning.
Will I never learn?

I grin playfully and decide to ignore it. “Not this time.”

His eyes glitter dangerously and he lowers his voice. “
Every
time.”

Boldly I lean up to kiss his beautiful mouth. “Wait till I’m done. Maybe you’ll want it too.”

I return to my task and kiss him again, licking gently along his twitching shaft until I reach the root, deep between his legs, all hot hair and soft, crumpled skin, growing smooth where his balls swell into hard mounds. He tastes of salt and earth, his hairy skin rough on my tongue.

I work my way back to the tip, letting my soft under-lip glide along his skin, thrilling as his shaft bucks against my teeth. Far away, past his chest, I see the tendons flex in his neck.

I take the head in my mouth and suck hard, making him gasp then draw myself up onto my hands and knees and smile down into his intent, watchful eyes. “How am I doing?”

His lips stretch in a faint, answering smile, his eyes dark as midnight. “You’ll get fifteen strokes.”

My smile freezes on my lips. “You’re
serious
?”

“I warned you, I don’t play at this.”

His voice is calm and low, his eyes watchful.

He means it.

His expression is stern but his erection jolts against my leg, urging me to my task. It’s all the permission I need. And now I discover a startling new fact. I simply want him, both in my mouth and out of it. And I want him so badly that
I want his punishment too
.

And so does he.

Fully aware of what I’m bringing on myself, I kneel between his splayed knees and begin to fellate him eagerly, pausing to lick him and fondle his root, teasing his balls with soft fingertips, massaging deep beyond and teasing his opening, making him groan. The thought of what might happen spices the act with danger and a hint of wickedness that sends flames of arousal shooting through me.

As he arches and tenses below me, I lean up, curious. “When?”

He gasps as I break off my rhythm, his voice husky. “When what?”

“The fifteen strokes? When do I get them?”

His mouth curves into a long, sardonic smile and I feel him twitch again. “I’ll tell you when I’ve decided.”

Now I’m part amused, part scared. Once more I take him fully in my mouth then down my throat as far as I can, sheathing my teeth and speeding up until he gives a low, deep growl.

He’s close. Instinctively I pull away and take him, hot and glossy with my saliva, between my breasts, plumping them out so they bulge around him as I move. In moments, he begins to pump, the soft milk gushing out in precious drops, covering my breasts with his fluid.

I glance up daringly. “Is that what they used to call a necklace of pearls?”

He smiles, stroking my face with his hand, infinitely tender, his breathing still ragged. “If they did, they were mean, short-sighted tightwads. That’s what I’d call one heck of a blow job.”

I lean up to kiss him gently on the lips then curl up in the crook of his shoulder. “So what’s the verdict?”

“You’re astonishing. But you’ll still get fifteen strokes.”

I grin and kiss the edge of his jaw. “You mean you didn’t enjoy it,
Sir
?”

He smiles and touches his lips to my hair, his voice deep and soft. “Because I did enjoy it, very much. That’s how it works.”

* * * *