Page 25 of Disgrace

“How are you feeling, beautiful?” I walk to the side and put the items on the small table. Her head twitches with the noise, but she remains still.

“I’m good, Sir. I missed you.” Her genuine smile is warm and breathtaking.

“I’m glad.” A deep groan rumbles in my chest when she whimpers at my soft touch, cupping and squeezing her breast. “Don’t close your eyes.” I reach back to the table for the ice. She jumps at the first drop of freezing water that lands in her stomach. Her eyes are wide but the effort to keep them like that is clear from the clench in her jaw and her thin lips. I trace the cube swiftly and lightly across her skin, leaving a thin trail of liquid along the edge of her hip bone, up her side, touching the curve of her collar bone and down the valley between her breasts. Her skin prickles with the chill, and she trembles and gasps when I circle her nipples. I drop the cube in her belly button, and she bites back a squeal, her back arching slightly. The muscles in her legs flex and tense against her restraints.

I pick up another cube and palm it, sliding it down her tummy and in between her legs. She jerks and cries out, her eyes scrunched tight.

“Open your eyes, beautiful.” She tilts her head to scowl at me. I am now perched in between her legs with a raised brow. She huffs out but calms her riotous body with some steady breaths. She meets my imperious gaze with her steely one. “Cold?” I blow on her folds with warm breath but slide the cube over her glistening entrance. I drag my bottom lip in at the memory of her taste. Her eyes follow my tongue and but narrow at my deviant grin.

“Sir, a little yes.” She shivers, a visual confirmation of her plight.

“Would you like me to warm you up a little?” My warm breath kisses her core and her hips tilt fruitlessly to try and edge closer to my mouth.

“Yes, please, Sir.” Her eager, exasperated plea makes me smile, and I swipe my very warm tongue along the length of her silken, soaking folds. Her legs wrench and try uselessly to clamp around my head, a futile attempt to prevent the onslaught of pleasure or maintain it. Either way, she growls out in frustration when I evidently, and too quickly, pull back.

“Something you want to say, Sam?” I coax.

“No, Sir,” she grits out and maintains may gaze. I stand and walk over to the candle that has been slowly burning into a nice pool of liquid wax. I pick it up and hold it high.

“Good. How are you doing, Sam? I’d like you to answer honestly without fear of consequence,” I explain.

“Oh, good, well, in that case,Sir, I am fucking off the charts horny and really, really want you and your massive cock fucking me until I can’t breathe.” She rushes her words, breathless and urgent.

“I meant with the restraints, but I think your answer has pretty much covered that.” She giggles, and her cheeks flush to an adorable pink.

“Oh, sorry, yes, they are fine. Everything is good…reallygood.” She smiles, and her mouth forms a silent ‘O’ when I let the first drop of wax fall from the jar. Her eyes are like saucers and her little chest is frantic with rapid pants. I continue to dribble the almost too hot liquid over her torso. Hitting her breasts, her nipples, around her belly button and the top of her landing strip. The crease where her thigh meets her apex is particularly sensitive, and she bucks wildly when I hit very close to her clit. Her whole body is a trembling erotic display of submission, her wetness is dripping onto the bed sheets, and I can’t wait to bury myself inside her.

Just one more thing. I pick up the large blade from the table. Her eyes are half dreamy, half glazed but snap open with the glint of the knife. Her gaze flicks from my eyes to the right side of my stomach where the skin puckers with some poor stitching and an angry scar.

“War wound from a family altercation,” I clarify, but she doesn’t look remotely convinced. “Do you trust me, Sam?”

“Yes,” she answers immediately despite the reservation in her eyes.

“Then I suggest you hold very, very still.” I lie on the bed next to her and spend the next twenty minutes carving the dried wax from her skin. The blade is smooth against her skin. The wax comes away in satisfying ribbons, curling away from her body like butter on a warm knife. Only a sudden movement would cause any blood to flow, and Sam is perfectly still. I can feel her heart beat a strong staccato under my fingertips as I follow the blade with my hand and sweep the wax from her skin. I have traced, touched, and teased every inch of her skin. She is alive and trembling, and I can’t wait a second longer.

I stand, slide my lounge pants to the floor and crawl between her spread and tethered legs. I swipe my cock from her entrance to her clit, up and down several times. Her eyes fix on mine, pleading and fierce with lust. I sink inside in one thrust, and she cries out. Her muscles contract like crazy and take me completely by surprise. Her thighs flex and clench, her back curves in a perfect arch, and her hands grip the ties like they are her lifeline. She comes hard around my cock. It takes all my resolve not to follow her release, but this one was for her. I pump gently inside, easing her down. Her gasps for breath turn to whimpers and sighs, her body limp and sated.

My hips continue to move, my thrusts becoming more urgent. I love the way she feels around me. I love it when I’m really deep. I shift up the bed and rest my hands on either side of her shoulders. Her body undulates beneath mine, grinding with me, meeting each thrust with irresistible fervour. I stop before it’s too late and pull out. I fist my cock and continue to pump hard. Both our eyes train on the thick ribbon of come that shoots from me onto her tummy, the force splashing the edge of her breasts. I pitch onto one arm, and with my free hand, I smear my essence all over her skin. And that one, was for me.

“Are you sure you can eat all that?” She smiles shyly as she folds her menu and hands it to the waiter.

“I worked up quite an appetite.” Her sensual tone is low and sexy, leaving very little to misinterpretation. My cock twitches, and I wince when it rubs a little too close to my zip. The waiter loses all his composure and fails to clasp his hand around the proffered menus, letting them spill across the floor. Sam snickers when he scrambles to the ground to pick them up. He apologises and swiftly departs. She wriggles her brows, full of mischievousness.

“You get that reaction a lot, I assume.” I adjust myself and sit back, my finger lazily tracing the rim of my water glass. Her eyes flick to my adjustment then to the waiter making a hasty retreat.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She flutters her lethally long lashes.

“Hmm.” I pour some of the champagne, happy to watch her shine. She is still wearing my diamond necklace and the tiny rocks pale in contrast to her luminescent skin. She is stunning and that necklace looks fucking perfect just where it is. She notices my eyes settle at her neck and her fingers reach to touch. Her tender smile hits me hard and warms my soul.

“Will you wear it?” I ask, and for a moment, her smile widens so much I think she might be about to agree.

“You know I can’t.” She shakes her head lightly.

“I’d like you to wear my collar, Sam.” I lean forward, rest my elbows on the table and fix her with my most serious gaze. She mirrors my image in every way, a challenge.

“And I’d like to tie you up and torture you, but from what I do know about you, that isnevergoing to happen,Sir.”Her voice drops to a whisper with the last word.

The waiter arrives with the drinks, and a second follows with the first of our many dishes. She sits back and takes a big sniff of the delicious Asian fragrances drifting up in billows of scented steam from the little baskets placed before us. She has eagerly opened each one and rearranged the baskets in what looks like order of preference. I chuckle when she wastes no time with her chopsticks. I feel bad that we haven’t eaten today, but then, she is very distracting.

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