Andrei (Quintessence Book 7) Page 8

  “Which part of this made you touch yourself?” he asked, and in the light from the screen, she saw the heavy lids that indicated he was turned on.

  The simplicity of his reaction made her suck down a sharp breath as need slalomed inside her. Somehow, it was delicious for him to know what she’d been reading, and even more so that he knew what she was doing.

  They were in the dark, and the faint light from the hallway wouldn’t have illuminated much considering the bed was on the other side of the room from the doorway.

  Her tongue felt thick in her mouth as she whispered, “The wand.” The Brigadier hero had managed to magick up a vibrating wand. He’d tied it with duct tape to the heroine’s thigh and kept it tucked tightly against her pussy. She didn’t even care how much it would hurt later to have that duct tape removed, just the idea of it had her growing wetter.

  He hummed under his breath. “Do you know what that’s called?”

  She stiffened. “Which part?”

  His laughter washed over her, bringing her nerve endings to life again. “The scene.”

  The scene? Sascha frowned, but slowly rolled her head from side to side in response.

  “A forced orgasm.”

  “I-I guess that makes sense.” Especially because the guy had made the heroine come twice in barely any time at all.

  Another hum. “I’m surprised you enjoy this kind of thing.”

  That had her hand stilling. “Why?”

  About to lambast him for denigrating romance, he surprised her by murmuring, “I wasn’t sure if you liked this kind of treatment.”

  “Just because I read it, doesn’t mean I like it,” she replied immediately. Then tempered that by adding, “But the kinky stuff? Why would you think I didn’t like it?” Jesus, she grew wetter than a swimming pool whenever they did anything like that to her. And it didn’t happen often enough for her liking.

  Of late, with her sex drive in the dark after the accident, she’d been waiting for one of them to. … She grimaced, unsure what she’d been waiting on.

  One of them to take control?

  To take control from her?

  The notion made her grimace again.

  “Sascha?”

  Sean’s voice wasn’t hesitant, but there was a bite to it that made her freeze a little.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you need more from us than you’re saying?”

  Her eyes flared wide, but it didn’t help. It wasn’t like she could see much in the dark. “Umm.”

  “That’s no answer.” His voice was like silk now. It seemed to swirl around her, drawing her nerve endings to life in a way that made her want to shiver and wriggle against the sheets simultaneously.

  “What do you want me to say?” It was a copout answer, but it was truthful. And even in the dark of night, she wasn’t sure she could confess to wanting something she couldn’t put into words yet.

  Did she need more from them?

  Maybe.

  At this moment, she needed them to take this weight off her. A weight that Kurt had helped her with the other night, but it was more than that.

  She needed to not be in charge, she guessed. She needed them to be.

  A breath blew from her lips at the thought, but she struggled with how to formulate that into words without choking on them.

  “Sascha?”

  She stilled again and her voice was quiet as she whispered, “Yes, Sean?”

  “Move your hand away from your pussy. And lay it on the sheet.” There was something in his voice that she only ever heard Sean use when he was telling Tin off—and even then, it was for his own safety. Like when Tin had shoved two pencils up his nose and was dancing around the room—Sean had seen that before her, but he’d told their son off immediately for being silly, and, as they always did, had explained how he could hurt himself if he’d fallen over with the pencils there.

  It was an odd tone to hear at that moment, but she recognized the authority in it.

  Recognized it and wasn’t perturbed by it.

  She even obeyed.

  Without conscious thought, she moved her hand away from her pussy and slid it out from her PJ bottoms. She lifted the duvet cover and pressed her hand to the top of it like he’d requested.

  She felt his fingers trail over the back of her hand then up to her pointer finger. “My, my, how wet you are,” he whispered, and he grabbed her wrist and lifted her hand in the air.

  She knew what was about to happen, but even though she was prepared for it, she inhaled a sharp breath as he sucked both digits into his mouth and swirled his tongue around one, then the other.

  A shiver rattled down her spine at the contact that immediately had her hips rocking and her thighs tensing. She knew what that tongue was capable of. Knew how he could make her scream, how he could make her moan and writhe with desperation.

  He could give and he could withhold.

  She knew that.

  There’d always been that threat with Sean. It was the same with Devon, too.

  Both would give when they wanted to. Unlike Devon, who could make her sob by withholding pleasure from her, Sean was generous and always left her satisfied. Even if it was by his will alone. She’d always known that about him, but it was funny how she only recognized how similar that was to the Brigadier in her book now.

  He nipped the tip of her finger, then murmured, “Don’t come unless I tell you to, okay?”

  Sascha didn’t have it in her to complain. “Okay, Sean.”

  Another hum. The vibration seemed to wriggle through her body, setting parts of her alight with a warmth like no other. “Get out of bed and strip for me.”

  She did as bade, seeing nothing wrong in the order as she slipped out and stripped.

  “Now, roll onto your belly on top of the duvet.”

  While she cocked a brow at that, again, she obeyed. She heard rustling sounds and assumed he was stripping, too—a prospect that filled her with delight—and then she felt his hands on her ass.

  The man’s night vision had to be excellent for him to see her butt in the darkness of the room. There was little to no outside light that could illuminate the way for him, and yet, he seemed to be able to get his way around without turning a light on.

  And, truth be told, she was glad for that.

  Whatever experiment he was playing, she was glad it was in the shadows.

  He squeezed her ass cheeks with both hands, rubbing them and drawing them apart. As the air kissed her ass, she bit her lip. She wasn’t unused to being touched there—with five men, it was a go-to spot, and she was grateful she enjoyed it. But still, something about the way Sean was touching her made her supremely aware of the pucker.

  When he released the mounds, her lips parted on a breath as she waited for what was about to happen. When it came, she closed her eyes and released the breath as his hand connected with her butt, making it jiggle.

  She didn’t even have it in her to wish her ass was tauter as he did it again. Three more times to make five.

  “Do you know why I did that?” he asked, and she was satisfied to hear his voice was thick.

  “Because you think I want it?”

  That made him snicker. “No.” His knees pinned her down by settling on either side of her lower thighs. His hands made fists, and he pressed them beside her arms as he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “That’s for thinking you could leave us. I settled on five because I could give you a thousand and it would never be enough punishment for thinking you could abandon us.”

  She jerked back at that, but before she could utter a word, his teeth settled on her shoulder and he bit down. She yelped, jolting at the pain, then even as she winced, she let out a hiss as that pain settled deep in her belly.

  Why did that feel good?

  The question was wailed internally. She didn’t verbalize it. Couldn’t.

  Just knew that ache felt right.

  It made her blow out a breath again.

  “That’s
going to leave a mark,” he told her, and there was such satisfaction in his voice that it had the same effect as a blanket on a cold winter’s day. She wanted to roll herself up in it like a goddamn human sausage—a thought that had her lips twitching. His nose ran down the side of her cheek, making her jump. “Do you like the idea of that?”

  It came as a surprise to realize that yes, she did.

  But she didn’t say that, not until his hand slapped her ass again. “Do you like the idea of that? Of bearing my mark? Of people seeing it and knowing that your man gave it to you?”

  “Yes, Sean,” she whispered, and felt her pussy grow wetter at her timbre.

  Jesus, was that her?

  That sultry, submissive tone belonged to her?

  She gnawed at her bottom lip as he murmured, “Spread your legs.” She parted them, grunting as he pinched her butt. “Wider.” She did, moving them apart to a degree that was borderline uncomfortable—she felt the strain in her inner thighs. Then, his hands made it all better as he stroked between her legs, coating his fingers in her cream.

  Shivering, she murmured, “That feels so good, Sean.”

  He kissed her cheek. “Why does it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Would it feel different if I’d come in here and just rolled on top of you?”

  She thought about that a second, then squealed when two fingers plunged their way inside her gate. God, she was wet, but they felt really big after months of inactivity. A shudder washed through her as she acclimated to the new thickness, and he let her. Let her breathe and relax in increments.

  “Yes. It feels different.”

  As though to reward her for the answer, he carefully removed his fingers. But she clenched down on them, liking them there, wanting them there.

  “Why?”

  “Because. . . .” Why? Because he was acting on his own? Wasn’t waiting for cues from her? Or, was he? Was he waiting for cues that she didn’t know she was emitting?

  His other hand pinched her butt again, making her firm the cheeks in response and let out a mewl. “Ow!” she cried, because shit, that stung like hell.

  “Answer me then.”

  “I don’t have a say in this.”

  “You always have a say in the things we do,” he murmured, and his voice was so close to a purr, it sent shockwaves down her spine.

  “I guess. But. . . .” She’d read enough BDSM romance to know how it worked. To know that she was in control because of how much she trusted Sean. When she didn’t want to play, he’d have to stop if he was a good Dominant. But that didn’t mean to say he was a good Dominant.

  There was always that threat of having your wishes totally ignored.

  A notion that stole her breath again.

  Not in fear, but excitement.

  “What made your breathing hitch there?” he asked, thrusting his fingers inside her again.

  “I-I don’t want to think, Sean. Let me stop thinking, please?”

  He must have heard the plea in her voice because he didn’t pinch her again, just fell silent as he stroked her butt. But even if he was contemplative, that wasn’t enough for her. Not with his thick fingers filling her. She wriggled and writhed beneath him, and he surprised her by spreading his fingers apart, scissoring them wide.

  He did that a few times, then he pulled out of her and half-leaped off the bed. About to grumble, she fell silent again when he ordered, “Don’t move a goddamn inch.”

  That bite was back again, and fuck if it didn’t make her cream harder.

  She even stopped fidgeting, stopped rolling her hips and rocking into the bed. He’d only spanked her so far, but she knew what was in his bedroom. If he wanted to take this up a notch, the only thing he had close at hand was a belt. She sure as hell didn’t want to be hit by a fucking belt.

  The sound of his feet padding against the floor was the only indication she had of his proximity. Her eyes weren’t covered by a blindfold, but they might as well have been for all she could see.

  The blanket of darkness seemed to cosset her. Cushion her from the real world, and she loved that. She needed that cushion. Wanted him to wrap her in it for the moment, take her away from herself, and place her somewhere safe and warm, somewhere that was theirs alone.

  She moaned when she felt the silk around her ankles. From the shape of the material, she knew it was one of his ties. “I’m going to grab your ankles,” he told her, but it wasn’t like he was asking for permission. He was advising her to prepare herself.

  Sascha found she enjoyed that.

  He could have just dragged her where he wanted her to go, but he hadn’t. Even in this, Sean was a gentleman.

  The Gentleman Dom?

  Her lips twitched. Maybe.

  Then, she squeaked anyway as he did as he’d warned. When he moved one foot wider than was comfortable, she didn’t protest, curious as to where he’d take this. She knew if he hurt her, genuinely, he’d stop the minute she asked him to, but she didn’t want to, and she knew that was where her faith in him came into play.

  There was no need for a safe word with Sean.

  She had no need to cry wolf. No need to beg him to stop, because the minute she did, that was the minute the fun would come to a halt, and this? Sure, she knew he was getting off on it. But for her? She really wanted this. No, a part of her craved it. Craved him.

  He was always so in control. Always collected.

  She’d never wanted to break that control, didn’t even think she could. But now? The notion thrilled her.

  Had he wanted more from her than she’d realized? Had he been holding back on her? The idea displeased her, but she didn’t have long to be upset because she felt him grab the tie and heard the sound of fabric crossing as he knotted it to the foot of the bed. When he did the same with the other foot, she clenched her hands at the deeper ache in her thighs. She was spread wide open now, tied and fixed to the low footboard.

  “How do you feel?” His hand slid over her calves. She’d pointed her toes in an arch, and she wasn’t sure why, but he rubbed the taut muscles of her lower legs, which had her toes curling in delight.

  “Like I can’t move,” she murmured drily.

  “Well, you can’t,” he remarked, but she heard the smile in his voice. “How does that make you feel?”

  She thought about it, then as the answer whispered in her mind, she pressed her face into the covers.

  “Sascha,” he warned on a grumble, and his fingers tensed on her calf. The prospect of being slapped there didn’t fill her with glee, nor did it frighten her.

  She wanted to be truthful, though, even if it made her uncomfortable. “Safe,” she whispered.

  He rubbed her leg again. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  God. What was this? Trivial Pursuit? She was tired of the questions, wanted nothing except to feel what he wanted her to experience, but the trouble with Sean was he liked to ask questions. He wanted to communicate.

  There was no avoiding it, just as there was no avoiding him slapping her ass if she displeased him.

  The very thought had her belly clenching. Surprise hit her as she murmured, “If you’re in control, I don’t have to think. If I don’t have to think, I don’t have to worry or be afraid.”

  This time, both hands moved over the curves of her calves, down to her ankles and over the soles of her feet.

  “Count to thirty. If you don’t move, I’ll let you come.”

  Because she’d expected another question, she hesitated a second before she began her count. By number two, she’d realized his intent and clenched down hard as he began to trace his fingers over her soles.

  Fuck!

  He knew she was fucking sensitive there.

  His tickling fingers had the numbers choking in her throat as she bit them out. Tension whipped through her frame as he carried on, making her legs want to tremble with the force she was putting on her muscles. A part of her wasn’t sure if
he’d class that as moving, but she genuinely wasn’t. Normally, she’d be wriggling all over the damn bed, laughing her ass off and trying to avoid his hands. Now, she was as still as a statue even as all of her nerve endings were screaming at her to move, to avoid his touch.

  By twenty-five, her eyes were wet. By thirty?

  She wanted to scream.

  Only the knowledge that she could wake Tin up prevented her from doing so.

  When he stopped, she blew out several sharp breaths as her nerves carried on responding to the tickling treatment. “Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God,” she rasped.

  Who knew that could hurt more than the flat of his hand on her ass?

  Jesus Christ!

  “I didn’t think you’d be able to stop yourself from moving,” he murmured, and she heard the amusement in his voice. Though she wanted to growl at him, she didn’t, because she felt the bed shift with his weight, and had to whimper as his hot breath washed over her pussy.

  He stayed there for endless seconds, and she wiggled in place, trying to move her body down to meet him. She shifted her knees somewhat, but her legs were so wide apart that the movement was no real help.

  Then, she felt him. His tongue, just the tip, against her clit. He fluttered it until she mewled, then he stopped, murmuring, “Ride my tongue.” Her eyes widened in protest.

  “How?” she shrieked. He was too far away to do more than tickle!

  She whimpered as she rocked her hips, getting that feathery, fluttering sensation against the nub, but nothing that could satisfy her. Nothing that could do much more than ramp up her agitation.

  A cry escaped her as she managed to pull one leg harder, releasing the strain on the other. That enabled her to move somewhat, but he just pulled back. Giving her only the tip of his tongue.

  The sounds of her panting breaths seemed to echo around the bedroom, and before she knew it, she felt light-headed. She stopped rocking her hips, and pressed her forehead to the duvet. As she did, he moved closer, used the flat of his tongue to caress her clit and slide down her folds to thrust into her.

  She released another cry, sharper this time, as delight filled her. The mental image of him with his nose pressed against her, getting as close as he could, filled her with lust.