Power Trip(16)

When he returned, he held a slip of black material. “Even though I don’t need to hide my powers from you, a hood might make it easier to accept what is happening. The sound of a lash whistling toward your back is scary until you learn to love its kiss on your skin. Blue fire, sparks and thunder can also be frightening. With your eyes and ears covered, you can just focus on how you feel, okay?”

She nodded and he slid the material over her head.

Terror, instant and complete, surrounded her. Stop! Why are you doing this? I’ll be good!

She screamed.

He whipped the hood off her head. “What happened?”

She panted, head craned, every muscle rock-hard with tension. “I don’t know! No blindfold, no blindfold, no…” He began unfastening the Velcro straps. “No, stop, wait! I’m sorry. I’m okay now.”

“You are not okay.” He unfastened the rest of the straps and pulled her into a sitting position, cradled on his lap. “Was it the hood or the restraints?”

“The hood. I’m fine now.” She sighed, resting against him for a moment, disappointed that their experiment had failed so quickly. His heart beat under her cheek, a comforting thud. She nestled closer.

He froze, muscled arms stiffening around her.

“What?” she asked.

“Um, I’m touching you.”

“Yes, you are. It’s nice. Don’t stop.”

Slowly, he began to run his hand up and down her arm, soothing the last tremors from her body. “Mmm, that’s even better.” Everywhere he touched felt warm. She snuggled into his neck, inhaling. “You smell like fireworks.”

His hand settled on her bare hip, then moved down her thigh. His chuckle was rough and strained. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “Do we have to stop?”

“That’s up to you.”

“I want to try again,” she decided. “But no blindfold.”

He looked uncertain.

“Please,” she added. “I want to experiment and see if I have a talent too.” His hand was still on her thigh, sending a subtle vibration through her. She flexed her hips and he groaned, moving both of his hands to the table and pressing them flat. She clung to him for balance.

“Audrey.”

She looked up. Sparks flew from his eyes and landed on her cheeks like pixie dust. She reached up to touch them. “Audrey,” he ground out again. “Please get off my lap and get back on the table.”

“Oh! Sorry.” She slid to the floor and he stood up, taking several quick steps away from her. Was it bad form to be happy she had such an extreme effect on him? She crawled up on the table again, this time even more aware of the sexy sway of her ass and breasts, hoping he was watching her. She heard him cursing under his breath and she grinned.

This time, when he strapped her legs to the table, he placed them far apart.

“What’s your safeword?” he asked.

“Red.”

“And how do you feel now?’

“Green.”

She heard a whirring sound and lifted her head. The monitors, right. All normal. She admired his tattoo again as he walked across the room. It made her think of his gunpowder scent and the sparks in his eyes. He pulled a length of silver wire from a drawer and she watched it spool from his hand. She lowered her head into the padded rest and closed her eyes, waiting for the whip.

When it came, she wasn’t ready. His first blow cracked across her shoulders, more sound than pain. She jumped, a ripple of tense muscle. If she hadn’t been strapped down, reaction would have knocked her off the table. Her back buzzed with hundreds of racing impulses. She waited for the next strike. It didn’t come.

“Green,” she said impatiently, anxious for the swarm of angry dragonflies to land. He hit her again. She felt her skin coming to life, singing and crying for more intense vibrations. He gave them to her, working the whip down the length of her back, over her butt and thighs. There was music in this, a pattern of blows, the crack of the whip, and underneath it, the steady rumble of thunder. Light flashed on her eyelids. She felt a drumbeat in her sternum, pressed against the table. Could he hear it too? He must be able to hear it, to feel it. He was the one creating it.

She flowed with the beat, letting the music take her up and down. If she could have moved, she would have swayed to the irresistible rhythm that begged her to follow it. A teasing buzz between her legs sent her dancing over the edge. Another beat caught her attention as she felt fingers slide in and out of her body, sending her flying toward a second crescendo. She couldn’t move, and yet she was spinning, flying out of control over peak after peak. Her body pulsed in time with the orgasms that shook her inner flesh in an endless symphony of sensation.