The Saint(107)
“You kissed me on the mouth and on my neck and shoulders. You kissed my breasts and my nipples. Um …”
“I have to say it amuses me that a young woman with your notoriously foul mouth is struggling so much to say words like breasts.”
“You’re laughing at me.”
“I am. And you’re blushing and beautiful, and I’m thoroughly enjoying the show. Continue.”
“Am I allowed to use slang terms, sir?”
“Not tonight. You have to be clinical and precise. You called Kingsley a cocksucker to his face the night he beat you at blackjack. But tonight I have to wonder if you can use the word penis in a sentence without fainting.”
“Next time I play blackjack with King I’m calling him a penis. There. Happy, sir?”
“Of course I’m happy. You’re here, naked and obeying my every order despite the fact you’re nervous and mortified. It’s intoxicating to see you so uncomfortable.”
“You are totally getting off on making me miserable, aren’t you, sir?”
“Yes.”
“I hate feeling like this.”
“Like what?”
“Awkward. Scared. No, that’s not it.”
“Vulnerable.”
“I hate it,” she repeated.
“I’ve noticed. You rarely let yourself be vulnerable. Your brashness and boldness, your brutal honesty, keeps people at bay. But now here you are, stripped of your defenses. It’s quite becoming. So please continue. Where else did I touch you? And do open your eyes.”
Eleanor reluctantly obeyed. She took two seconds to mentally drown Søren in the soup bowl before answering.
“You touched my shoulders, chest, breasts, back, ass, I mean bottom, derriere, whatever the official term is. And my hips and thighs. You put a finger inside me.”
Søren coughed.
“You touched my clitoris and put a finger inside my vagina,” she said, enunciating each word as nervous sweat beaded under her arms. “And I loved it.”
“I did, too. Where did you touch me?”
Eleanor groaned and dropped her head onto the table.
“Eleanor, you’re eighteen years old. If you want to be treated like an adult you must act like one. Sit up straight and answer the question.”
She sat up and straightened her spine like an iron rod.
“I kissed you on the mouth and the neck and shoulders and chest. I think that’s all.”
“It is. In the future, I will allow you more access to my body.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Where did you touch me?” He reached into his water glass and pulled out an ice cube. He placed it at the top of her spine and she gasped at the shock of the cold.
“I touched your face and your neck and your shoulders and your chest and back and penis, and there, I said it. Are you done torturing me yet?”
“No.”
“A girl can dream.”
He traced the length of her spine with the ice cube from the nape of her neck to the small of her back. She gripped the arms of the chair and tried not to squirm.
“I want to talk about pain with you tonight,” he said as the ice cube melted against her skin. “Does this hurt?”
“A little. It makes all my muscles contract.”
“That’s your body’s way of trying to protect itself from the cold. I’m using my bare hands. The ice hurts me, too.”
“Kingsley said dominants and sadists use floggers and canes and stuff so they don’t hurt themselves while inflicting pain.”
“That’s part of it. There is another part.” He lifted the ice cube off her skin and put the remnant of it in her mouth. She swallowed it.
“What’s the other part, sir?”
He fed her another bite of soup. He seemed uninterested in his own dinner.
“People have an instinctive trust of authority figures. It’s almost a cliché. Women are attracted to men in uniform. Boys grow up and marry women who remind them of their mothers. We fantasize about our teachers, our doctors—”
“Our priests?” She grinned at him.
“Even priests.” He took another ice cube out of the glass. This time he ran it down her neck and over her chest. Goose bumps exploded all over her body.
“Do you see me as an authority figure?”
“Yes, sir. Obviously.”
“What sort?”
She bit her bottom lip out of simple nervousness. Søren rubbed his thumb over her mouth to remind her not to do that. Dumb girls. She’d never forget that talk.
“It won’t make me uncomfortable if you say you see me as a father figure. I’m addressed as ‘Father’ daily by people twice my age.”
“People would say it was weird to be in love with someone who’s like a father to you.”