Page 37 of A Secret and a Lie
I have a sinking feeling that I’m going to regret this.
Ford
“Tell me your safe word,” I demand, reaching for the items I left on the dresser after securing her ankles with the leather cuffs, her feet delicately arched in her heels. She’s entirely exposed and at my mercy, even with her clothes on.
“Liar or red.”
“Liar or red,Clark,” I correct, my lips twitching.
She nearly sneers, and I wonder if she’s fighting the urge to call meSirin the same way I’m craving to hear it on her tongue again.
I don’t press the issue when she remains silent. With the satin in hand, I smirk before removing her ability to see, eclipsing her hazel gaze. She could stop this with a word, take back control of the situation, but she doesn’t.
The blindfold is as much for me as it is for playing with her sensations since it’s becoming nearly impossible to hide my erection from her. When I had Sloane up here, it did nothing for me. It wasn’t until I began to speak to Genevieve that my cock perked up, lengthening as I imagined I was speaking into her ear instead of the submissive tied up in front of me.
Keeping my footsteps stealthy, almost imperceptible, I lift the long-handled feather to the inside of her knee. When the gentle kiss of the light material grazes over her skin, her body stills, and I wonder how hard it is for her to fight the urge to test the restraints.
“Do you know what this is?” I wonder aloud, the feather tickling her skin.
“A feather.”Sir,I add in my mind.
Damn, who have I become? The version of myself from just a year ago would’ve balked at the notion of having a woman call me Sir, but now, that’s all I can imagine, especially coming from her.
I hum, taking a risk as I sweep the tip of the feather beneath the hem of her pencil skirt. She presses her full, red lips together, and I resist the call to claim her mouth.
Behind me, the heat of the attention of our audience of one keeps me in line. Drifting the feather along her collarbone, I notice the way Genevieve’s nipples press against the inside of her lace bustier. Not for the first time, I wonder what she looks like beneath her clothes. Are her nipples a dusty rose shade or darker? Lighter? Are they sensitive? I wish I could find out.
“What about this?” I ask as I run the new tool over her inner arm, having swapped the feather for the pinwheel, featuring small, metal spikes.
Her lips part, a gasp escaping as the sharp pricks descend from her elbow toward her shoulder. Her voice is raspy when she replies, “A Wartenberg wheel.”Sir.
Another rumble of approval vibrates in my chest, and I begin toggling between the pinwheel and feather, the sensations warring on the battleground of her porcelain skin. Has she drenched her panties yet? Her breathing is ragged, and jaw is still tight, ticking, and I hope that means she’s dripping for me.
As I abruptly abandon the items, she guzzles down oxygen, her chest rising and falling deeply, but I keep the reprieve brief. Drawing the dragon tongue back marginally, I allow the leather end to bite at her right inner thigh, then her left.
“Holy shit,”Sloane mutters from behind me, and I can hear the wanton desire in her tone. Is she touching herself? The breathlessness of her voice makes me think she might be.
Genevieve shifts then, the chains binding her to the Xrattlingas she tugs on her restraints, desperately seeking…something. Her shoulders drop a little, though, and I realize that her resolve is slipping more by the second, especially when I tap her between the thighs with the tongue of the whip as I ask, “Do you feel good yet, doll?”
I’m not sure what prompted me to call herdoll, as it’s not a term I’d use at this point in my life, but it felt right, my mouth forming the word on some kind of instinct. Fuck, it’s killing me not to know just how ruined her panties are, not to dip my hand beneath that skirt of hers and find out for myself.
Unfortunately for me, she gnashes her teeth, gripping what tethers of absolute control remains of her with both metaphorical hands. I draw the whip back again, letting it pop her over the pussy once more, and her head falls back, a thin sheen of sweat dotting her skin and glistening like an erotic mirror ball in the low lamplight.
A moan rattles in her mouth, and the sound nearly has me coming in my goddamn slacks, but the need to see her fall apart with nothing more than my whip against her panty-covered clit is too enticing to focus on anything other than her rapture.
Drawing the whip back, I let it fly, nailing her between the legs one last time, even if I can’t see her swollen cunt for the angle and layers of infuriating fabric separating us.
Just when I think she may shatter before my eyes, her legs trembling and breath catching, she calls out,“Liar.”
Her voice is strained but strong, and panic seizes me, my blood rushing in my ears and my body flashing hot. Immediately, I drop the whip, reaching for Genevieve’s wrists as I frantically scan her face as I attempt to decipher what went wrong.
Is she hurt? Scared? I thought for sure she was about to come, but what if I missed something? Did I push her past a limit? I should’ve asked her about those before suggesting I cuff her to this cross. I made a mistake, and the idea that I might’ve hurt her has my stomach clenching.
As I remove the blindfold, her hazel eyes are wild and frantic,but not in the manner Sloane’s were earlier. If anything, she appears…guarded, and I’m not sure what to make of that.
“Are you okay?” I ask after unbuckling the restraints. My palms find her cheeks as I tilt her head to look up at me. Her chest rises and falls heavily, and I’d give a fucking kidney to know what she’s thinking.
When she dips her chin in answer, I decide that’s going to have to be good enough for now.
