You Are Mine (37 page)

She was shaking now as well she should. But there was nothing but challenge in her eyes despite the tremble of her body. “Do it then. I can take it. I can take anything you give me.”

He loved it that. A glimpse of her brave, reckless spirit. It made him want to test it in so many ways. “We'll see, angel.” He put his hand on her stomach, spread his fingers out. Then slid it down between her thighs, wetness and heat coating his fingers, feeling her body jerk again at the touch. “We'll see.”

*   *   *

He was angry, that much was obvious.

Eva took a long, shaken breath as Zac's hand fell away and he moved away from the bed, going over to the closet again and disappearing inside.

She wasn't afraid—or at least, it was a different kind of fear that sat inside her this time. Fear of not being able to take what he wanted to give her. Fear of disappointing him in some way. And along with that was her own anger.

She knew she'd kept him on a leash even though she hadn't understood at the time. Knew that he realized it and didn't blame her. But shit, it had been his choice to stay. It wasn't like he'd said anything to her about what he wanted.

Of course if he had, she would have run for the hills, but still.

You want this punishment though. You're curious about it. You want to see if you can take it.

She flexed her wrists in the restraints, the soft fabric moving against her skin.

Yeah, it was true. She did want it. For her own curiosity's sake and yes, for pleasure, because it would be a sensual torment—of that she had no doubt.

But she could sense he also needed this. And she wanted to give it to him because, shit, after seven years, he deserved something from her, didn't he?

She shifted again, the feeling of being restrained, of being held open, exposing and strangely arousing at the same time. The bastard sure knew what he was doing.

Zac came out of the closet, carrying yet more items in his hands. A blindfold and some headphones. How weird.

Eva eyed the blindfold warily, not exactly thrilled to see it. “I thought we weren't going to use that.”

“I changed my mind.” He moved to the head of the bed and laid the black material over her eyes, tying it securely behind her head. “It's a punishment, Eva. You're not supposed to like it.”

“But … I want to see you.” The darkness didn't feel so intimidating this time, yet she still didn't want it. Looking at him was a pleasure she hadn't realized she wanted until he took it away from her.

“Too bad.” His voice was near her ear now. “I'm also going to take away your ability to hear. So you'll be blind and deaf.”

Trepidation whispered through her. “Why?”

“It'll heighten your sense of touch. Also…” There was a pause and she shuddered as she felt his finger trace a line down her throat. “You're blind because you refused to see me as anything but a crutch you needed when you couldn't walk. And forgot about when you could. I'm going to take away your hearing so you'll have no choice but to trust what I give you. Seven years and you didn't trust me, angel. You need to suffer for that.”

She wasn't given a chance to reply, the headphones covering her ears. Music started to play, and it was so very Zac that despite her trepidation she almost smiled. Violins and piano, refined and classical.

The bed moved and the warmth beside her was gone.

She was alone in the dark and she couldn't hear through the music in her ears. Couldn't move because of the restraints.

What had she gotten herself into?

Fear slithered through her and she let it go. Him. She was doing this for him.

She waited, her arms beginning to shake again. Was time passing? How long had she been lying here? It felt like a long time and yet it was probably only a minute.

Where was he? What was he doing? What was he
going
to do?

The music played and, although she strained to hear, she couldn't detect any movement anywhere.

Then something brushed over her nipple, something that felt white hot, scalding her tender flesh, yet at the same time sending an intense pulse of pleasure straight between her thighs.

Eva cried out, her brain struggling to make sense of the sensation as she arched helplessly against her restraints.

It happened again, a burning pain around her nipple. But at the same time not exactly pain either. She couldn't work out which it was. Then she felt something hot close around the same nipple and pressure, and realized that it was cold she'd been feeling. Cold that he'd just replaced with the heat of his mouth.

Sensation was a rip in reality, making her gasp and shudder. He alternated the icy cold with the heat of his mouth and the pressure of suction, heightening the feeling until it became acute. Until her body writhed. Until the darkness around her was full of jagged flashes of lightning, the music adding an agonizing classical soundtrack to the pleasure/pain.

And suddenly he was gone.

Eva panted, trembling. Every sense heightened and sensitized. Desperate to figure out where he was and whether he'd do it again. Her other nipple throbbed, hardened into a painful point. God, if he started there next, she'd scream.

But he didn't.

He ran the ice cube over the exquisitely sensitive flesh inside her elbow then the backs of her knees. Her spread inner thighs, making her jerk her ankles desperately to either close them or to urge his fingers higher, to where she was aching and hungry for more contact.

His tongue left trails of fire behind the cold burn of the ice, both sensations so intense she began to lose track of which was cold and which was hot. There was only this one feeling. Pleasure and pain so entwined together she couldn't tell one from the other.

It was heaven and hell. She wanted to it to stop and to never end.

The ice found her neglected breast at last and she did scream, another flash of lightning lighting up the dark behind her blindfold.

Void. Void. Say it.

No, fuck, she wouldn't. She'd had this battle with herself the first night he'd taken her and she'd won then. She'd win this now.

She had a damn reward to claim.

Eva screamed again as his mouth closed over her nipple and sucked hard. She was barely aware of the soft velvet beneath her or the material of the cuffs around her wrists and ankles. Her whole world was centered on her left breast and the movement of his mouth.

The unbelievable agony of the sensation. The incredible pleasure of it.

Then the heat around her nipple was gone. Her blindfold was ripped away, the headphones jerked off.

Light flooded her eyes and she blinked. After the music, the silence of the room was as loud as a crashing ocean. She could even hear the echoes of her own scream. Certainly someone was breathing harshly and fast. It was probably her.

Squinting against the sudden assault of light, her vision swam. And then came into focus on the man kneeling on the bed between her spread thighs like a conquering god.

His gaze was like the sun, too hot to bear, his jaw hard, his expression set. His whole posture was rigid, and sudden understanding struck her with the force of a blow.

He was rigid because he was struggling to maintain control and was probably finding this as difficult as she did. In punishing her, he was punishing himself too.

Good fucking job. Even though she wanted to give him this, she also didn't want to be the only one suffering.

“I didn't say it,” she said in a cracked voice. “You can't stop yet because I didn't say the safeword.”

His smile was feral. “Who said I was stopping? You have to see in order to fully experience this particular punishment.”

Oh, God. What was he going to do now?

His hands fell to her stomach, trailing his fingers over it then down to lightly brush inner thighs. She groaned, her hips lifting reflexively off the bed. She could feel the heat of his skin next to hers. It was like a fire on a cold winter's day and she was freezing to death.

“Zac…” His name was a helpless whisper. “Please…”

That sharp, hungry smile became even sharper as slowly he leaned over her, one hand coming down beside her head. “Are you begging me, angel? Is that what you're doing?”

His other hand reached down to take hold of the hard length of his cock.

She stared, mesmerized by the sight, her breath coming faster and faster.

His hips flexed and she gave a little stuttered gasp as the head of his cock brushed through the folds of her sex, pushing lightly at the entrance of her body.

She arched up, desperate.

“You want this don't you?” he murmured. “You want my cock.”

“Yes, yes, yes … God…”

“Well, you can't have it, Eva.” He teased her again, circling her sex with the slick head, rubbing it against her clit. “You denied me your hot little pussy. Why should I give you my cock?”

Frustration clawed at her, a growl escaping as he drew his hips back, denying her.

God, she ached. The pulse between her thighs unbearable. Every part of her felt pushed and stretched. Like she was teetering on the brink of something yet not allowed to fall.

She stared up at him, into his amber eyes. Watched the flames leap there. Saw the anger and the desire and the pain, and a thousand other emotions she couldn't hope to untangle.

A complicated man. A man she didn't realize the worth of until this past week.

Until he'd opened her eyes.

“Do you want me to beg?” she whispered. “Because I will. I'll give you anything you want, Zac. Anything.” And she meant every word of it. “Just take me. Please.”

His expression tightened, the flames in his eyes burning even higher. He leaned down, his mouth inches from hers, so all she could see was his golden eyes, the heat in them like the corona of the sun. “No.”

Before she could speak, he shoved himself away from her and got up off the bed.

Shaking, she watched as he began to undo the restraints, unhooking the straps from the hooks in the bedposts, then taking them off the cuffs.

The release of the tension made her arms ache, the blood rushing back into her fingers and toes. With a certain matter-of-factness, Zac examined her extremities, chafing them to make sure the circulation had returned.

Even that light touch made her groan. Made her desperate for more. Her thighs felt slick, her sex throbbing.

She had no idea what he was going to do next and was afraid of it. Yet at the same time, she was also afraid that he would stop. That he would think she couldn't deal and give up.

“Please don't tell me that's it,” she forced out, her voice barely sounding like her own. “If my count is right, that's only four punishments.”

Finishing coiling up the straps, he put them on the bedside nightstand, then stood back to survey her. “Perhaps I should stop. Perhaps you're liking this too much.”

She pushed herself up on her elbows, absurdly angry with him. “No, fuck that. I want my reward. And shit, if ice cubes and blindfolds are all you've got, then you'd better give it to me now.”

Zac stared at her for a long moment. Then he turned and stalked down the side to the foot of the bed, graceful as a panther. “That,” he said, “is not all I've got.”

He got onto the bed, kneeling on the quilt. Then before she could move, he'd pulled her into his lap in one easy, fluid motion, turning her over so she was spread over his knees, her face turned toward the quilt, her butt in the air.

Oh fuck. She had an idea where this was going.

One arm pressed down hard on her back, keeping her in place.

“Zac.” His name was a frightened breath of sound, fear curling tight in her gut. Was he going to … hit her?

The palm of his other hand came to rest on her buttocks, the heat of it making her swallow. “Punishment five. You caused me pain, Eva.” He didn't add any other explanation, but her brain had no problem filling in.

You caused me pain. Now it's your turn to feel it.

Eva stared at the dark blue quilt, trying to calm herself the hell down.

“Seven strikes for seven years,” he said, his voice rolling over her in a dark wave. “You count them out. And ask me for more after each one. I'll pause to allow you to use your safeword if you need to.”

No, damn him. She wouldn't need the safeword. She would handle it like she'd handled everything else. Even this, being spanked like a naughty child.

She clenched her teeth. “I won't need to.”

Seven strikes. Easy.

But she knew, as soon as the first blow fell, that anything involving Zac Rutherford was never going to be easy.

It hurt. The shock of his hand striking her sensitive flesh, the sound it made in the room. Because he didn't hold back, she felt the strength behind the blow, the sharp sting it left behind. Yet that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was when that same hand dipped between her thighs, his long, blunt fingers stroking the folds of her sex, brushing her clit, circling the entrance to her body, probing gently yet not pushing in.

“One,” she gasped, unable to help herself from pushing into his hand.

“What else, Eva?” He pressed against her clit. “Don't make me ask again.”

“More … please.”

His hand fell again. And again it hurt. And again he somehow turned the pain into astonishing pleasure.

She counted out each blow, panting, and when she said “more,” it wasn't only a repeat of the word he wanted her to say. She began to mean it. As if she wanted more of his hand cracking sharply against her flesh, more of the burn that came afterwards. And especially more of the heel of his hand bearing down on her clit, making her shift and grind against it, trying to find relief.

But there was none.

He was merciless. Holding her on the brink of climax like he had downstairs. So close and yet so far. Every blow seemed designed to inch her closer, the movement of his hand another push toward it. Then he'd take his hand away so she was left trembling and aching with a hunger he wouldn't feed.