“Fuck, Edward! No, I can’t. I can’t!” I pulled against my restraint. I pressed my knees inward trying to shove him off.
“Eyes on me,” he said sharply, shutting me up. When he held my gaze in his, he touched the tip of his tongue lightly to my most sensitive spot. “You don't think you can take it, little bird.” Another soft press of the tongue. “But you can.” This time his mouth lingered. “Keep your eyes on me. Relax. Let me take care of you. Let it feel good.”
His words were soft and anchored me along with his intense stare, and there, wrapped in the solid promise of his authority, I let myself go. I let him take care of me. I let it feel good.
The orgasm released through me in stages, as though it had been wrenched out of me, leaving parts of it behind that had to be wrenched out as well. It seized onto my limbs, my muscles tensing slowly, slowly, slowly until they were rigid in its grip, shuddering against its ferocity. The world went completely dark. Then spots appeared, dancing across my vision.
And the sound that came from me was foreign and yawning, a jagged moan that stretched and stretched and stretched until my voice was hashed and my throat felt sore.
I lay there after, whimpering, barely aware of Edward coaxing me down, kissing my thighs, running his hands along the sides of my torso, bringing me back to life.
Then, when I opened my eyes again, reborn, I wanted him with a fierceness that I’d never known. Wanted all of him. Wanted his cock buried inside of me. Wanted him shoving against my limp body. Wanted to make him come as savagely as he’d made me come.
He crawled up my body, and I could feel the stiff weight of his desire at my hip as he kissed me, his tongue plunging into my mouth as deeply as it had plunged into my core, the taste of my pussy mixed with the taste of him.
“Please,” I begged, unable to articulate my want. “Please, please, please.” He’d know. He always knew.
He ground his hips against mine, his fingers threaded in my hair. “You can’t possibly have any idea how much I want to fuck you right now,” he said against my lips.
“Yes, yes.” I nodded, encouraging. Pleading.
He kissed me again, his arm reaching above me to loosen the tie at my wrists. When my hands were free, they flew to his face, gripping his stubbled cheeks as though to hold him in place, as though to pull him closer.
“I want you,” he said again. Then kissed me again. “But we mustn’t forget that this was a punishment.”
He rose and stood over me, his cock tenting in his trousers as his eyes perused me from head to toe. With what sounded like a reluctant sigh, he turned away. “Get dressed,” he said, picking up the drink he’d abandoned in favor of eating me out. “I’ll be waiting in the living room to walk you back to the house.”
And I knew in that moment, without a doubt, that he’d succeed, that he was halfway there already, that he’d completely and utterly break me down.
The next morning, when I came back from my run, I found him standing beside the jeep while Louvens loaded his suitcase into the back.
“You’re leaving? Without even telling me?” I sounded hurt when I meant to sound outraged, because hurt was what I primarily felt.
“Not true,” he said coming to me. “I was waiting for you to get back so I could say goodbye.” He nodded to Lou. “Give me a minute.” Then, with my hand in his, he led me off the driveway to the side of the house where we were out of earshot from his driver.
I pulled my hand away from his, trying to find my sense of balance. He’d wrecked me the night before, and after a fitful sleep with dream after dream of his mouth and his tongue and his words—You can’t possibly have any idea how much I want to fuck you right now—I had a curious sense of attachment.
Was this Stockholm Syndrome? What had he done to make me feel such an intense need?
I pressed my fingers against my eyes and shook my head, as if to shake off the complex emotions stirring inside. “I can’t believe you’re leaving already,” I said softly when I brought my hands down. How long would he be gone? I couldn’t bear to ask. I couldn’t bear to know.
He reached out to me again, bringing his knuckles to stroke against my cheek. “I almost think you’re going to miss me.”
“No,” I said too quickly, flinching from his caress that I wanted but couldn’t seem to let myself have. “Just. How can you break me down if you’re not ever here?”
“Play better, and I’ll come back more often.”
Ouch.
He must have seen the hurt in my expression. Swiftly, he wrapped an arm around my waist and drew me to him, holding me tightly to his chest. “You did very well last night, little bird,” he murmured in my ear. “I was very impressed.”
I stayed tense in his embrace for several heartbeats. Then, on an exhale, I relaxed into him, taking in his scent of spice and musk and pure man. “Were you really?”
“Yes, really.” He pressed his lips to my temple, holding them there, holding me for several seconds before leaning back to look at me.
It had felt good, if I was being honest with myself. When it was all said and done. Except for one part.
I pulled back and wrapped my hands in his shirt. “Edward, I know it's a rule...I know I'm not in a position to ask. But addressing you as sir… please. Is there anyway it could be something else? Master or Your Holiness. Anything else…”
He studied me for several beats. “Is this something we'll talk about in an upcoming session?”
No. No. I did not want to talk about it.
But if he wanted to find out, he would. I knew that now.
“I need time,” I said, letting out a shuddering breath.
He considered. I was the one who had wanted things to speed up. There was no way he couldn't know this was something I truly needed.
He gave a quick jerk of his head. “Very well then. You can address me as Edward.”
I was so grateful, I buried my head in his shoulder. “Thank you, Edward.” It was a whisper, but he heard it.
“I left you something on your bed,” he said, when I pulled away, his fingers once again stroking my face. “A belated Valentine’s Day gift. To make the time go by faster.”
I nodded. I couldn’t speak past the stupid ball in the back of my throat.
“Be good,” he said, pressing one more kiss to my forehead then let me go to head back to Louvens waiting in the jeep.
I turned away, and brought my hand to my cheek, pressing my palm against the spot he’d touched as if that could hold the feel of him there longer.
“And Celia?”
When I looked back, he’d paused, halfway in the passenger’s seat. I furrowed my brow in question.
“I’m going to miss you, too.”
Eleven
Edward
“Mr. Fasbender?” Astor’s tone suggested it wasn’t the first time he’d called my name.
I’d been somewhere else. Nowhere. It was easy to get distracted like that sitting in my office now, looking at walls and curtains that she’d chosen. Sitting on furniture that she’d picked out.
She’d left the desk at my insistence, a heavy dark wood monstrosity that I loved and refused to part with. But now it was the foreign thing in the room, the only thing not touched by her, and I found myself choosing to work from the sofa more and more because of it.