Three and a Half Weeks(56)
The marbles stay on her abdomen until the top of her climax when they come rolling off as her hips jerk up into the air as high as the restraints will allow her to move. As promised, he jerks the chain attached to the clamps and is rewarded with a high-pitched shriek. The slight bit of erotic pain will only enhance her orgasm, whether she knows it or not. He continues tonguing her until the last spasm and then in one fluid motion pulls up and pushes deeply into her. The plug makes it an extremely tight fit, plus she can’t move much at all and that sense of helplessness combined with the extra friction sends her over the cliff and she comes again within seconds. The clench of it is so strong that she almost takes him with her, but he manages to pull back in time so he could keep going. He waited all night for this ride and he’s going to make it last.
Sounding excited—almost desperate, Ella cries out, “Ian, I want to touch you; unbind me please.”
“How much, baby? How much do you want to touch me? Tell me,” he says in a voice deeper and huskier than usual.
She whimpers. “Please, I want to hold you… so very much.”
“That much, huh? Enough to turn down the job with Lucien Phillips?”
She looks at him, startled, and they both freeze. It’s an awkward time for this discussion but he needs to make her understand how he feels. What better way to have her complete attention?
“What? Are you kidding?”
He shakes his head very slowly, his eyes boring into hers. “No, baby, no jokes tonight. What will it take for you to turn down the job?”
“I…”
He swivels his hips then swings them back slowly before driving into her forcefully. Her eyes begin to glaze over as lust replaces confusion. Leaning his head close to hers, Ian whispers into her ear. “You’re mine, sexy Ella, all mine. Turn down the job.”
It’s the last thing she hears before her world contracts and explodes in an incredible orgasm.
Chapter 16
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why Ian doesn’t want me to work with Lucien Phillips. If anyone could give Ian some competition, it would be that blond Adonis. But I’m not looking at Lucien as romantic potential: I want to work with him on his documentary—badly. Besides, in the few minutes we spent together, he demonstrated no interest in me other than purely professional—for all I know Lucien might even be gay. One thing I definitely do know: I am taking the job, come hell or high water.
The adjectives I’ve come up with to describe what Ian did last night are unconscionable, bizarre, outrageous, infuriating, and punishable—a crime worthy, in fact, of imaginative punitive measures. If I hadn’t been so irrevocably in the moment, I would have kicked him. Oh wait: I couldn’t do that with my legs bound, could I? He’d covered all his bases.
I have to admit the undeniable: sex with Ian is incomparable. It’s true that, technically, I have nothing to compare it with since he’s the only man I’ve ever been with intimately, but I’ve had enough conversations with my friends and read enough Cosmo articles to know that sex with Ian is not the norm. Not even close. I know I should want to experiment with other lovers but I’m so certain they’ll come up short that it almost seems an exercise in futility. It’s important to Ian—he’s made it abundantly clear—that he’s my first and only man, so I need to consider that going forward. Ironic that in the beginning my virginity bothered him but it’s come to be something he highly values. Still… he’s made no commitment to me nor have I to him. Do I even want a commitment so early in the game? I’m only twenty-three.
I open my eyes the next morning and realize I’m immobilized. The reason why becomes clear quickly: Ian has his arms and legs wrapped tightly around me—even in his sleep he restrains me! If I as much as take a deep breath, I’ll wake him. I crane my neck to see his face just above my head and he wears such a serene expression that I don’t have the heart to smack him upside the head, as I almost certainly should. I remain in my human cage for a few more minutes, using the time to think and trying not to dwell on the fact that my nose is itchy.
I will call Lucien and accept the job. It means I’ll have to stay in New York to interview the Picasso woman. Lucien had mentioned that he has a film crew on standby for the purpose. After, I can go back to Portland and try to conduct as much research there as possible, using my laptop and the library. At some point, I may have to do more travel but that’s fine. I sigh, realizing that if I stay with Ian in whatever this thing we have going is, it means many more fights on the horizon and the thought is depressing.