"This is going to get loud, Bianca. I'm going to fuck you so hard that you scream my name. And you are going to scream so loudly that nobody will doubt just why you're screaming. Would you like to tell me what you and Roger were talking about before I'm inside of you? Or will this be a mid-fuck confession?"
I just shook my head again.
He smiled a very troublesome smile. Mr. Cavendish was about to take the reins.
He worked on his own clothing first, pulling his shirt out of his pants, then unbuttoning and spreading his slacks open. He pulled that delicious cock out slowly, tauntingly. He stroked himself while he watched me.
He pulled the strapless side of my dress down, saw that I was wearing a strapless bra, and yanked that down too. He bent slightly and began to suck hard at my nipple while he slid his hands up my skirt and slipped my panties off.
He straightened very slowly when he finished, leaning into me, pushing my leg up, and thrusting into me hard with that same motion. I watched him and I saw his cold smile when he elicited a sharp little gasp out of me.
He pounded into me so hard and fast that it did wrench a little scream out of me. A scream that formed into a very long version of the word James. I was on that fine edge when he yanked out, his eyes intense and angry on mine.
"Tell me what you and Roger talked about, Bianca," he ordered.
It took me long moments to gain any semblance of coherency. When I did, a spark of anger shot through me.
"You can't use sex to control me, James. You shouldn't play with my heart like that."
He laughed. It was sinister. "Oh Love, it's not your heart I'm playing with. And I'll play with your body whenever I damn well please."
He moved back against me and then he was driving roughly into me again. "Don't even think about letting yourself come," he murmured to me in an almost offhanded way. He jackhammered into me, so hard and so fast, again and again, for long moments before wrenching out of me again. I made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a scream of distress when he pulled out.
He touched my bottom lip softly with an index finger. "Tell me, Bianca. Tell me what you talked about with Roger."
"You're being a bastard," I told him after a while. He just smiled that sinister smile and stroked my lips with his finger. "A sadistic bastard."
He laughed. "Yes. I am that. Just tell me what you talked about, Bianca. Before this gets out of hand."
We had a long, silent standoff before I caved. I did it because I'd realized that it wasn't really that important, and because I didn't want to see how far he would go to prove a point just then.
"We talked about you, James. About your past, about your promiscuity, your … preferences. I think he just wanted to know what I knew. He seemed to think that you'd kept me in the dark about it all. I got the sense that he was afraid that something about your past was about to be leaked, and that it was something that would drive me away. Why did he think that, James? What's going on?"
He cursed fluently. "Goddamn Roger. It's nothing, Bianca. It's being taken care of. Someone was threatening to be … indiscreet about some of my exploits. I'm handling it. I've been agitated because I've been trying to distance myself from my past, to clean up my image, if you will, for your sake, for the sake of our future, and this leak would have the opposite effect. But as I said, I'm handling it. Thank you for answering my question."
He moved against me again.
I spoke just as he was lining himself up at my entrance. "It's not like I had a choice," I muttered sullenly.
He thrust into me, bottoming out in one hard motion.
I cried his name brokenly.
"How about I make it up to you with a handful of orgasms?"
I didn't answer. He already had me incoherent as he made good on his offer.
He pounded into me relentlessly, one hand pulling my hair, the other rubbing my clit. He brought me over, again, and then again. He was merciless. I was completely wrung out by the time he let himself come with a rough groan, grinding deep inside of me, the hand in my hair moving to my chin. He gripped it hard as he watched me.
He gave me one swift kiss before pulling out of me.
He left me where I was, leaning against the door for support, my arms still tied, while he moved to the desk.
He cleaned us both as well as he could with just tissues. He kissed me deeply but softly, a romantic kind of kiss, while he untied my wrists. He pulled me against him, supporting me while I regained my balance, massaging the feeling back into my wrists slowly and thoroughly.