He'd tied me so that I faced the window squarely, with a lovely view of Manhattan, but all of his movements were behind me, keeping me in the dark as to his actions.
I felt him move onto the bed several minutes later. He stayed at my back.
He made me wait for so long that I began to relax slightly when he struck.
My back bowed with the blow to my thighs. It was by far the harshest punishment he'd ever dealt me. I knew it with only one blow. It felt like I was being pummeled by a dozen hard little fists. James paused for long moments after the first blow, and I trembled.
The next blow struck my ass and made my body rock back and forth with my rubber restraints.
I whimpered, my head falling forward.
He struck again, and not even pausing, struck yet again. Tears ran down my face, and I couldn't quite stifle a scream as he struck yet again.
It was the first time he'd ever tried something on me that was so profoundly painful that I wasn't sure if I could take it. I was the closest I'd ever come to safe-wording when he stopped.
I was sobbing when he gripped the front of my thighs from behind, pulling my legs up and back so that I was completely suspended.
He kept me like that as he moved between my legs from behind. He pounded into me brutally, as though this too was a punishment. He drove into me again and again with angry thrusts, our only two points of contact his hands on my thighs, and his cock inside of me. He had me on the edge in moments, and I came around him with a little sob, my inner walls clenching him again and again, milking him until he bottomed out in me, coming with a surprised little shout.
I didn't think I'd ever had a more powerful orgasm, and I sobbed with the pleasure and the pain of it as he finally pulled out of me, and lowered my feet back to the bed. He untied me quickly, pulling me down onto the bed with him. He pushed my face into his naked chest, murmuring soothing words as I cried all over the Bianca on his chest. He stroked his hands over my back, and kissed my hair, and none of it made me feel better.
He had worked me over harder than ever before, fucking me twice without a second of intimate eye contact, without a second of intimacy in general. And I had come so hard that I couldn't stop sobbing for the loss of control. For the first time since we had gotten together, I began to worry that the things we brought out in each other wasn't something I could live with. Or rather, the things he brought out in me.
I had always known I had a masochistic streak, though I'd kept it buried deeply, but I'd thought that being with James, doing the things we did, would help to sate those urges in me. For the first time I wondered, what if it'd only made it worse?
James seemed to sense my withdrawal. "I need to get back to work soon, but first … "
He flipped me onto my back, parting my legs and moving between them in one smooth motion. He pushed my legs far apart, then pushed them up high against me. I was watching his magnificent cock as he lined himself up at my core.
"Look at me," he snapped, sounding furious.
I looked at those beloved eyes and got lost, as though just the sight of them could make my troubled mind go blank.
He drove into me with one smooth thrust. "Get out of your own head, Bianca. I won't let you withdraw from me."
He began to move inside of me, thrusting steadily, his eyes holding me captive. He circled his hips, moving that long, thick cock along the walls of my sex. I moaned, then gasped. He had so many tricks to make me come and when he tried the move again, I clenched around him with my release.
His eyes were so tender and so intimate as he found his own release long moments later, his hand finding my cheek. I knew my eyes held that same raw vulnerability.
CHAPTER FOUR
Mr. Excessive
James tucked me in tenderly, kissing my forehead and telling me to get some sleep. I didn't argue. I doubted I could have walked out of there, let alone gotten back to his apartment still standing, without some sleep. I drifted off.
I awoke slowly, languorously, stretching my sore body against soft sheets, my eyes drifting open with an effort. The sight that met my eyes brought me fully awake.
The black and blue bouquet of wicked roses was arranged on the pillow as though it were a real arrangement. James wasn't in bed with me, of course-he was working, but the bouquet was apparently his replacement. I turned away from the brutal reminder of our earlier activities, sitting up.
I didn't know what had happened to my clothes, other than that they weren't in the room with me, and out there was an office. I found myself in the awkward position of having to wrap myself in a sheet to peek carefully into the office. I would be mortified if James had company.