Page 54 of Crave Me
His eyes lit with pleasure behind his frames and he dropped his head, brushing his lips to my temple. I shivered from the contact, the woodsy scent of his cologne mixed with clean soap.
“There are dozens of ways to be a submissive, a million different ways a Dom-sub relationship can work. We’ve gone through the contract and we’ve played, but those are justthings. They don’t make the relationship. Do you understand?”
I was only now beginning to.
He continued, “What pleases me about this, Chloe, is now I know better how to continue with you, and it won’t be because of the canes and clamps and pain. The physical pain those implements bring is only intensified because of how you feel about the man you’re with. Last time, you chose a Dom you didn’t trust, which is probably one of the reasons you couldn’t get into the scene. Without the trust, without the feeling of being revered, you won’t properly relax.”
While he spoke, he put more space between us, the feather continued to run over every inch of my skin, down to my sex, over my clit. He tickled and teased, and my skin burned until it ached. The touch of the feather turned from soft and gentle to little needles scraping my skin, a million tiny nail pricks.
He slid the feather through my sex again, along the crease of my inner thighs and I jerked against the bindings, groaning in a mixture of pain and pleasure and desperate need.
“Sir,” I gasped, yanking against my cuffs. “Please, sir.”
“You’re okay,” he murmured, continuing to dance the feather of pain over my abdomen, up my chest, the sides of my ribs. “You’re doing well. I’ll tell you another thing that pleases me about knowing this about you. Do you want to know what it is?”
I shook my head, tugged against the cuffs.
“No? You don’t?”
His voice was teasing, torture to my ears. What was he doing to me? Who knew a feather could cause pain in a way I’d never experienced? It was almost worse than the cane. One simple feather tantalized until it was too much.
I couldn’t drag my eyes away from the intensity in his expression. The tightness around his eyes as he intently focused on me. He’d been right before. He strapped me to a cross and I forgot the entire world around us. People could have been watching me, they could have been crying out in pain or in satisfaction, but it was his voice echoing in my ears, his beautiful, chiseled face captivating me above all else.
“Please, sir. Tell me.”
A flicker of a smile ghosted his lips and vanished. “It pleases because I get to be the one to do it.” He tossed the feather and it fluttered to the floor. As he stepped toward me, his chest pressed against mine. He wrapped his hand through my hair and yanked, forcing my head to fall back. “It means I get to worship you, I get to discipline you, and I won’t need to use force to do it.”
I shuddered, and he grinned, leaned down until his lips were a mere breath from mine. “If I touch you now, would you come?”
“Yes,” I croaked. “Yes, sir. Please.”
His pushed his hand between us. His thumb dipped toward my center and brushed just above my clit.
“Simon,” I cried, and he was gone. His scent, his touch, his firm grip on my hair. It took moments to realize my mistake and my eyes widened, flared in fear. “Sir, sir, I meant. Please, sir.”
He grinned wickedly. “I like it when you beg.”
Cold ice rolled down my spine when he didn’t move.
The tears swelling in my eyes dripped down my cheeks. God, I needed him.
Without warning he was touching me again. He avoided my breasts, my stomach, and my hot and swollen, dripping wet sex and his hands went to the bindings, undoing my cuffs from my wrists and rubbing them. He kneeled down and did the same at my ankles. When he’d released me, his hands curved around my hips and he tugged me toward him, my pussy right in front of him.
Mustering whatever control I had, I left my arms at my sides instead of settling on his head, trying to move him closer. My legs shook, not from bindings but from anticipation.
“You smell divine,” he said, a salacious gleam in his eyes. “I bet you’ll taste even better.”
“Why don’t you try it and see?”
“Ah,” he rocked back and stood. “There’s the sass I was beginning to miss so much.”
Hope deflated my chest and I whipped my head around, watching him walk away from me. He came back with my dress, my heels in his other hand. Before I could ask what we were doing, he bent in front of me, his shoulder at my stomach and then he stood, tossing me over his shoulder, my eyes on his ass.
“Hey!” I cried in surprise. I glanced frantically around the room and was only met with amused looks from everyone who bothered to watch him carry me, butt naked, out of the room. “What are you doing?”
“Whatever I want. And I don’t want anyone else to see your orgasm. They’re for me, my eyes and my ears only.”
His hand landed on my ass with a clear slap and then we were in the hallway. The cool air wafted over my skin and chill bumps popped on the backs of my thighs. I reached down and held onto the waistband of his black pants so I didn’t fall.
