Caught Up In You 3: Designer Love and Empty Things (Edgeplay) Page 5

  He nods once. “We’ll see. You remember your safeword?”

  I nod.

  He turns to the pantry and retrieves what looks like a hand made out of roots. Holding it up for my inspection he asks, “Do you know what this is?”

  “No.”

  “Raw ginger. I bought it from an oriental supermarket this morning.”

  “I’m not really hungry.” I say.

  His smile is malevolent. “It’s not for eating, it’s part of your punishment.”

  How exactly does that work? I imagine it would hurt if he hit me with it but it seems like an odd choice for punishment.

  Pointing at a chair he says. “Sit and watch me prepare it.”

  When my bare backside comes into contact with the chair I remember I’m still naked. How odd that I forgot.

  Connor removes a wicked looking knife from the chef’s block and tests the blade. I swallow hard. If he tries to cut me I’ll safeword so fast his head will spin. My heart may bleed for him, but that’s as far as I’m willing to take it.

  My worry is in vain because he places a cutting board on the counter and positions the root carefully. Instead of loping off one of the protruding fingers horizontally, he makes the slice into the thicker, hand-like portion of the root, until the chopped off piece is about five inches long. Setting the larger portion aside, he begins to whittle away the outer layer.

  The object taking shape under his deft handling looks almost obscene. It’s wider, thicker at one end, and the way he’s smoothing the surface with each stroke makes me squirm. He’s patient and meticulous as though he has all the time in the world. When it’s finally devoid of any rough edges, he carves out a concavity near the thicker end, working steadily until a hollowed out ring is visible around the circumference.

  He takes a bowl down and fills it with cold tap water. “Raw ginger burns when it comes into contact with the skin, so we have to be wary of getting any near our eyes.” He drops his little project into the bowl, then turns back to the disfigured hand. Snipping off a smaller end digit, he peels away half of the outer layer before adding it to the bowl.

  “Okay,” I say slowly. Just what the hell is he planning to do with that thing?

  Connor slips the leftover root into a ziplock bag and stores it in the fridge. He turns to face me, an evil grin in place that makes my heart pound. “Have you ever heard of figging?”

  “No.”

  Picking up the bowl, he says, “You’re about to become intimately acquainted with it. Follow me.”

  He leads me out into the main hallway, then up the stairs. I’ve never been in this portion of the house before. All the doors are shut and Connor leads me past several before leading me inside a bedroom with an antique four-poster bed and an adjoining bath. Black and royal purple is the main color scheme, giving the room an almost Victorian feel.

  “Shut the door and climb up on the bed.” Connor sets the bowl down on the nightstand.

  “This isn’t your room, is it?” Again the lack of personal items, the vibe of the space at war with the mysterious man before me.

  “This isn’t where I sleep, no.”

  Disappointment fills my chest. Whatever he’s about to do to me, he doesn’t want it to happen in his own living space.

  The bed is almost obscenely high and wide and I clamber up and crawl to the center.

  “Stay just like that.” Connor says.

  “Um…?” I pause and look over my shoulder to where he’s standing at the foot of the bed. I’m poised like a cat on all fours on top of the rich purple comforter. “Like this?”

  He nods, studying my exposed backside. “Exactly like that.” He’s blocking the huge antique mirror over the dresser, thank goodness, otherwise I’d have an unobstructed view of my ass. Bad enough he has one.

  Connor moves closer. “Tell me what you are being punished for.”

  “Not trusting you?”

  “What else?”

  I blink at him, unsure how to answer.

  He leans closer to me, runs a hand down the bumps of my spine. “You deliberately risked your life not even twenty four hours after someone took a shot at you. You didn’t trust me enough to keep you safe, to take care of you.”

  “Can I at least explain why?” I thought he already knew why I’d run off.

  He speaks softly and I hear the slightest trace of his Southern heritage. Usually he speaks crisply without an accent, and I can always tell when he’s genuine when I hear that soft drawl. “The why doesn’t matter. You didn’t come to me, didn’t trust me to help you. I will always drop whatever I’m doing to help you regardless of the consequences. What you want is of utmost importance to me, yet you left without a word.”

  I hang my head as shame washes over me. He’s right, I didn’t trust him to help me. I’ve become so used to having no one willing or able to help. “I’m sorry.”

  The gentle hand pauses at the small of my back. “Can you tell me why you didn’t come to me first?”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to say because time was of the essence but deep down I know that’s not the real reason.

  “I was upset. I didn’t know if you would help me after what I told you about my mother. I thought you were looking for an out.”

  Fingers tighten in my hair and he yanks my head back while he rubs his groin against my ass. Understanding, patient Connor is gone. “Do you really believe that there is anything you could tell me that would quell my desire for you? If I can get past—” He cuts himself off with a vicious growl.

  “Get past what?” I ask but he ignores me, releasing my hair and standing back “Connor?”

  He retrieves the long finger of ginger from the bowl. My eyes are glued to it. “What are you going to do?”

  “Spread your ass cheeks for me so I can put this inside you.”

  Chapter Six

  “Inside me?” I squeak. He can’t possibly mean what I think he means. “You said it burns!”

  “That’s why it’s punishment.” There’s a devil glint in his eyes.

  My fingers curl into the shimmering satin bedspread. “I don’t know if I can handle this, Connor.”

  “Then say your safeword and leave. If you don’t fully trust me, we need to know right now.” He waits patiently for me to decide.

  I think about the careful way he prepared the all-natural butt plug. He knew what he intended to do all along, knew I might back out but he went to the trouble anyway. For me, because he trusts me, wants me.

  The same way I want him. Fully, with no limits regardless of the personal cost. If he needs this then so do I.

  Slowly, I release my locked elbows and lower my upper body onto the mattress. My hands tremble as I grip my butt cheeks and heat scalds my face at the searing humiliation. That must be part of his elaborate punishment. Connor knows exactly which buttons to push.

  “Good girl,” he rasps. I’m absurdly pleased by the emotion in his voice, the pride those two words convey. And then I feel it, the bulbous end pressing against that tight ring of muscles. The foreign sensation has me panting.

  “Relax,” he tells me.

  “Don’t you need to lube it up or something?” It feels so big. I’ve only ever experienced his fingers and tongue there before. In comparison the ginger root seems enormous. I seriously doubt it will fit at all.

  “No, the water is enough. Lube would actually block some of the sensation.”

  “We wouldn’t want that,” I grumble. Though I can’t see his face, I’m sure he’s smiling at my reluctance. A hand glides through my hair, stroking gently as though he’s petting me, soothing me.

  He presses slowly, but insistently and my body finally surrenders. The plug glides in all the way up to the tapered portion, which locks it in place.

  “How does it feel?” he asks.

  “Odd?” I’m not sure what else. My body is adjusting to the sensation of fullness and nerve endings tingle slightly. “How long are you going to leave it there?”

&nbs
p; He ignores my question. “Lie on your back now and close your eyes.”

  I do as he asks, rolling onto my back.

  Connor goes in the other room, and I hear the sound of water running in the sink. Washing away the ginger so it doesn’t burn his skin the way it’s starting to burn mine, no doubt. Closing my eyes only intensifies the sensations.

  On his return I hear him slide open a drawer in the dresser. “What are you doing?”

  Silk skims across my ribcage, such a gentle caress at odds with the sting in my ass. I squirm. The plug stays in place. My pussy is yielding liquid and my heartbeat throbs in my clit.

  The silk sweeps over my breasts and across my nipples before disappearing. Placing my feet flat on the mattress, I arch up, trying to get away from the sensation that now borders on pain.

  I let out a squeak as one foot is yanked out from under me and my eyes fly open. “What are you doing?”

  “Making sure you keep still.” Connor doesn’t look up from what he’s doing, which is tying my foot to one post with the length of silk. “You’re squirming a lot.”

  I try breathing through my nose, but am finding it difficult to concentrate on anything but the throbbing burn in my rectum. Connor moves to the other foot and yanks it straight. Then he does the same with my arms.

  “You made me promise I wouldn’t let you tie me,” I pant.

  “That was a mistake on my part.” The backs of his fingers skim down my body. “How does it feel?”

  “Achy,” I pant. “Not like illness ache, but need.”

  His fingers brush lightly over my trembling body. “What do you need?”

  “To come.” It’s true, the burn morphs into desire.

  He raises an eyebrow. “Do you think you deserve release?”

  I bite my lip, because I really don’t, but I want it.

  His thumb glides over my mouth, pulling my lip free from my teeth. “What have I told you about this?”

  Our gazes lock and I shake my head. “I can’t, not right now.”

  “I think now is the perfect time.” Without hesitation, he pushes down the waistband of his shorts until his cock pops free.

  I’m dying from the sensations in my lower half and he wants me to suck him off? “I don’t think I can—”

  “You will.” He climbs off me and kicks his pants away. I watch him smooth his hand over the plum colored head of his erection and stroke the shaft. “And what’s more you’ll enjoy it.”

  I clench up when he positions himself over me in classic 69 position. The burn intensifies and I yelp, startled. I’d almost grown use to it.

  Fisting his erection, Connor guides it to my mouth, tracing my lips with the tip. Before I realize what I’m doing, my tongue darts out for a taste. He eases down, guiding his cock into my mouth. The position is awkward but he’s patient while I figure out how best to pleasure him.

  His fingers part my sex lips. “Just look at all that sweet juice. You like this, don’t you?”

  Heaven help me, I do.

  “I need a taste,” he mutters, lowering his mouth so he can sample my pussy. His tongue darts out and he shifts his hips, rocking his rigid member deeper in my mouth.

  It’s too much. He’s over me, surrounding me with his heat and his scent. The plug he carved for me fills my ass, his tongue traces my clit, the pressure too light to set me off. Covering my teeth with my lips, I suck him hard, wishing his girth stretched my feminine walls. I need to be fucked so badly I’m dizzy from it.

  “Deeper,” he rasps between licks, his hips finding a rhythm. “Take me deeper. Swallow my cock.”

  I’m afraid I’ll choke from this angle. The tip is already hitting the back of my throat. With my mouth full of cock, I shake my head, hoping he’ll understand.

  He does, because the next thing I know, he lands a slap on my spread pussy. My body seizes under the sharp sting and involuntarily clenches on the ginger root. Again the burn intensifies and my mouth opens to scream. His cock glides farther into my throat and I swallow, milking his shaft with my throat muscles.

  Above me, his whole body tenses in orgasm, but he doesn’t come in my mouth. I feel almost cheated as he withdraws his still hard shaft and moves off of me. I worked hard eliciting that response from him, damn it. Where’s my reward?

  My body shakes, filled to bursting with unspent lust. My gaze focuses on the hard length between my legs. “Fuck me please, Connor.”

  He moves back to the dresser and I gasp when I see him grab a condom. Soon, this torment will all be over soon. I shiver as he rolls it on and my body seizes in anticipation.

  My relief is short lived. He fishes the remaining piece of ginger from the bowl. An involuntary whimper escapes. “No more, I’ve learned my lesson.”

  “Almost there, babe. You’re doing beautifully.” His words are meaningless though, because it’s the ginger and not his cock that moves between my legs.

  I force myself not to clench up when he places the sliced end directly on my clit, knowing the agony that causes.

  The spice leeches slowly into my throbbing nub. Connor sized it perfectly, so the outer folds of my sex hold it in place. With my arms and legs tied in spread eagle fashion, no amount of squirming will displace it.

  He licks one diamond hard nipple, rolling the other between thumb and forefinger. His blue gaze is locked on my face, devouring my response to this sensual torment. Sensations meld together in a swirling vortex of unfathomable pleasure. It’s like I’m flying through space at warp speed, all the wonder and chaos and majesty whizzing by too fast for me to identify. I’m helpless, lost in wonder.

  My entire body trembles, my head thrashing back and forth on the pillow, and I chant, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” Only he can make it stop.

  Connor holds my head still. “Okay baby. It’s okay.”

  “Please. I’ll do anything.” I’m pathetic, but I just don’t care anymore.

  He mounts me. His prick is so stiff and my pussy so wet that he doesn’t need to aim it as he slowly sinks inside my aching channel.

  It’s the final straw, what my body is waiting for. My back bows up off the bed as I explode around him, detonating into a million pieces. I scream until my throat is raw, the relief is so immense.

  Connor holds perfectly still on top of me, gritting his teeth as my inner walls ripple around him. His eyes blaze blue fire, brimming with satisfaction and endless desire. Pleasure and pain combine into an explosive release I never dreamed possible.

  I sag limply back onto the mattress, utterly spent. Connor unties my arms and legs and removes the ginger from my clit. I shiver as my sweat starts to dry but I’m too limp to even crawl under the covers.

  My pliant body doesn’t fight when Connor spins me around on the mattress or, when he flips me onto my stomach. But when he commands “Up on your knees, look in the mirror.” I almost protest.

  Until I realize he hasn’t come.

  My tongue is thick as I try to speak. “I can’t—”

  “Trust me.”

  I feel as though my bones are full of lead. My muscles have no more strength than a rubber band but somehow, by sheer force of will, I climb into position.

  “Spread yourself wide for me.”

  Again, I do as he says, watching as he extracts the plug from my throbbing ass. He moves to the dresser and returns it to the bowl before removing the condom. He reaches inside a drawer and withdraws a bottle of lubricant.

  I bite off a protest when his palm smacks hard onto my backside. This isn’t punishment; I can see from his expression he’s admiring me. It’s so odd, yet so right.

  “I’m not going to fuck your ass right now, but I will, soon. Right now, I’m going to mark you. Watch me.”

  My mouth goes dry as he pours some lube over his hand and then sets in a furious pumping motion, squeezing his cock in strong, steady pulls. My body squeezes and he groans, working his shaft faster. I shiver as I realize he can see everything from his vantage; I can’t hide my reactions.r />
  Every muscle is slick with sweat, every line pulled taut as he pleasures himself. He’s glorious like this, the picture of male arousal. He showed so much restraint with my body, never pushing me too far, but he is merciless with his own. His left hand comes around my hip and I can feel the air moving from his busy hand. The slick sound of his motion, skin to skin, working in tandem to crest that final peak.

  The first hot jet of semen splashes across my skin, right into the crevice. I actually cry out at the sensation as another streak marks my private flesh. Our eyes lock as he continues to come against my ass. The knowledge is there in his eyes as well. We’re filthy, base creatures, reveling in hedonistic abandon. There’s no place I’d rather be.

  He collapses on top of me, burying his face in my hair. His weight is delicious on top of me, his cooling cum melding our bodies together. The air in the room is filled with the scent of sex and the harsh breaths we’re both struggling to catch.

  It seems like an eternity has passed since we entered this bedroom. We drift for a time, spent and floating in that ether reserved exclusively for post-coital lovers.

  “Am I forgiven?” I ask at length.

  He stirs and grips my chin. Those blue eyes seem calmer now than I’ve ever seen them. “As far as I’m concerned, yes.”

  I hear what he doesn’t say. “But not with the other you.”

  “Mr. Edge is trickier. The lines aren’t as clearly defined for him. He’s operating in the dark.”

  “Why do you call yourself that?”

  Connor shifts back and props a hand beneath his head. “Because he’s the public façade. The proper, user friendly version. I’m not fit for most company.”

  “Which is the real you though?” I need to know this. I’ve connected with this side of him in a way I’m starting to doubt is even possible with the more aloof version.

  Using his index finger, he pushes some hair away from my face. It’s such a light, tender gesture. “Both? Neither? Somewhere in between? Everyone has different facets of himself, different sides that he shows to different people.”

  “But how come you are aware of everything that happens and he isn’t?”