“Much better,” he says when I’m done.
“Good enough for sex?” I wink at him. I’m shivering with anticipation, but that doesn’t stop me from throwing out the smart-ass one-liners, and to be honest, I’m not sure if Nikolai would really expect anything else from me.
He smiles, a wide smile that transforms his face. “Good enough for sex,” he agrees. “Thank heavens.” He grabs my face and kisses my mouth, with passion and intensity, and I thrill. I’ve wanted him since almost the moment he opened the door of his Cambridge townhouse. His desire for me, so far held in check, is very, very welcome.
***
He positions me in a different corner of the dungeon, and he withdraws, standing a few steps away from me. I face him, and my heart pounds, and my skin feels feverish. At last.
“Are you going to do as you are told, Allie?”
Am I? I’m half-tempted to say something flippant. We’ll see. Maybe. But this moment has its own gravity, and I don’t want to trivialize it. I want it to be real.
“Yes Sir.”
He gives me a half-smile. I wonder what he’s thinking.
“Move and stand by the table, Allie.”
The table he speaks of is a long massage table, about two feet wide and five feet long. It is padded with a white leather cushion. I’ve noticed it before in the dungeon, but so far, my focus has always been the piano in the centre of the room. Not right now though.
I obey. Though I’ve been naked around Nikolai most of the last few days, I suddenly feel very exposed. Though I face him, I’m unable to meet his eyes, and I lower mine, looking at the floor.
His gaze is on me. I can feel the weight of his assessing stare. Heat rises in me, and I feel my entire body flush in reaction to his scrutiny.
“Turn around,” he says finally. I comply silently, and face the massage table. I look intently at the white leather, as if it has something to teach me. Mostly, I just wait. I use this moment to clear my head completely. To embrace this thing with Nikolai, whatever it is, and to be the best version of myself.
“Bend over.”
My hands rest on the leather. My legs are spread shoulder-width apart. I stick my ass out towards him, and hope he enjoys the view. From his appreciative rumble, he does. “Mmm. Very nice,” he says, and I can hear the approval in his voice.
“Turn back around.” He stalks towards me as I face him demurely. His footsteps echo in the quiet, and the look on his face is unreadable. I want to ask him what he’s thinking, but I stay silent.
He is dressed casually. A white t-shirt and black pants, yet the contrast between his clothing and my nakedness could not be more apparent. I shiver slightly, my arousal already at near-unbearable levels. I really, really want Nikolai.
His fingers stroke my shoulders, and push my hair back. They tweak my nipples, which are erect with desire. I throw my head back and groan out my need, and he hisses in displeasure. “Stand up straight, and look forward.”
Being good is going to be harder than I realized. I want to let my body feel these sensations, slump towards him as his touch possesses me. But we’ve barely started, and I’m determined to obey. I straighten, and look ahead.
“Very good,” he mutters, his breath caressing my ear. His lips brush my cheek, and I exhale through the full-body shudder that claims me. Goosebumps rise on my skin. A thousand little pinpricks of desire, serving as a visible sign of my complete immersion in this moment.
His hands caress my shoulders and chest; his fingers tweak at my hard nipples. “Mmm.”
He is excruciatingly slow. I am ready to scream in frustration by the time he dips his head towards my chest, and captures a nipple between his teeth. “Ah,” I groan as his mouth closes over my areola.
Lick. Flick. Nibble. Bite. He is playing my body, as expertly as he plays the piano, though my whimpers are nowhere as musical as the melody he draws from the keys.
“Do you like that?” he growls, lifting his head up. His fingers tug at the bud he was just tonguing.
Is it not obvious? “Yes Sir,” I exhale. I fight to stand still and straight; I struggle to look ahead. I want to collapse into him.
“Do you want these nipples clamped, myshka?”
“If it pleases you, Sir,” I answer.
He smiles. “Very good, Allie, that’s the right answer. It will please me very much to clamp these lovely breasts. I want to hear you moan into my ear.”
I feel him leave, and it’s like a bit of me has been torn away. But he returns, with a set of clamps. His fingers tease my buds into complete readiness, so they are protruding from my chest. The flat prongs of the clips close on them, and he tugs at the chain connecting them. I whimper in response.