“What I’d like to see is how your body responds to gentle pleasure.”
The gentle word translated to torture and made him harder. She quirked her brow at his cock and knelt between his legs.
“What about your top?” he asked, breathless.
She shook her head. “I’d rather not. Open your legs.”
He grunted and pulled his knees up and let them fall open, rolling his hips and making his cock reach for her. “Why just your bottom?”
“Shhh,” she said, placing her finger under his balls and slowly running it up until she reached the tip where she tickled his pulsing head with his pre-cum.
He gasped and pushed his hips up for more.
“You like this, see?” she whispered, her tone soft like her touch.
“Because of what I want, not what I’m getting,” he gasped.
“Are you sure?” she wondered, sliding her wet finger all along the ridge, making him burn. “I’m going to suck you slowly. Gently,” she warned, her fingers gliding along his inner thighs now. “Would you like that?”
“You’re the doc,” he barely managed.
She eyed him. “I need your permission.”
“You do? I’m tied up.”
“It doesn’t matter. I always want your consent. Just as you should always want mine.”
Oh he wanted her consent alright. But for what, was the problem. “Be my guest.”
“Would you like me to?”
He cocked his jaw slowly. “I’d like you to try, yes.” Fucking suck it already.
“Okay.” She positioned herself between his legs, semi laying on his left one, her right hand propping her head up as she used her other to toy gently with him. “Have I ever told you how beautiful your cock is?”
“Talking or sucking?” he said, desperate.
“Both, I think are important. Your cock is very beautiful,” she whispered, leaning in to lick along the ridge.
Sade stared at her lips and tongue, transfixed and hungry. “Fucking suck it,” he finally gasped.
She took the head into her mouth and sucked him like fucking delicate silk. He pulled at his wrist restraints, clenching his eyes tight. She licked slowly then, from his balls up his entire length. “Did I ever tell you how good your cum tastes?” Her words were sultry satin as she flicked her torment over the slit of his cock.
He was beyond words as he strained to get more.
“Do you want to know the best part of making love to you?”
He wanted to know if it made her suck harder. He answered with a gasp and thrust of his hips.
“Is seeing how much you want me. Need me. Open your eyes and watch what I’m doing,” she said, sucking the head softly.
He yanked on the chains.
“Stop,” she said sharply, looking at him, his cum making her lips shine. “Don’t pull on the restraints. Control yourself. Take what I’m giving you the way I want to give it.”
“Fucking tormenting me, Mercy.”
“While loving on your cock,” she whispered, taking his entire length into her mouth, making Sade’s head come forward to see and buck his hips. She pressed a hand on his lower stomach and shoved him back down. “Be still,” she gasped after his cock popped from her wet lips. “Take it the way I give it,” she ordered, flicking her tongue all over the ridge again.
Her firm hand pressing down on his pelvis sent shock waves of bondage heat into his cock. His body shifted gears and suddenly wanted whatever torment she gave. “Yes,” he gasped, when his cock hit the back of her throat and she moaned, pulling up slowly, the suction impossibly tight.
“Ffffuuuuck,” he moaned, thrusting his hips, only to encounter the sharp press of her hand again.
“I’m going to tell you when you can come,” she whispered, raining fire on the head of his cock with the tip of her tongue. “And when I tell you, I expect you to do it.”
Jesus Christ. He gave his body to her little therapeutic game.
“Does it feel good like this?” she gasped, going down slowly on his length again.
“Fuck yes. Your fucking mouth is so tight and hot,” he grit, thrusting against the press of her palm. He yanked at his wrist restraints again and she pulled up abruptly and stood. Not looking at him, she stepped out from between his legs and picked up her bikini bottom and began to put it on.
His pride didn’t allow him to ask questions.
“I asked you nicely to not pull on your restraints, and you did it. This will help you learn to control yourself. Therapy is over.”
She walked out leaving him with holy fucking Christ, did she just leave?
He dropped his head back and clenched his eyes and jaw together, ready to scream. “Mercy! Unfucking shackle me goddammit!”
The door opened and she strolled back in with wide eyes and a guilty grimace. “Sorry about that, I forgot.” He eyed her as she unlocked his right wrist then stood and strolled to the left. His cock-o-meter had gone flat at her unusual behavior, body and mind unsure of how to exactly misfire. After she undid the left one, it took all Sade’s strength not to wrestle her to the same submission she’d just forced him in. But instead he watched her stand and walk to the door, captivated by her succulent ass hanging out of her bikini as she went in the most sexy confidence he’d ever seen her in.
He sat there for several seconds, going over everything that had happened, feeling the need to keep notes before he got lost. Lost in her little games. Or before his demons tricked him into something very bad. He finally got up and examined his ankles and wrists. He was sure he smelled like a fucking sponge soaked in alcohol as he made his way to the room’s bathroom. He locked the door and turned on the shower, wondering how she’d stood sucking him. He wasn’t dirty but… he felt it. He stepped into the glass enclosure, debating on hot or cold. Hot would hurt like fuck. Hot it was.
He showered, thinking of Mercy the entire time. What he needed to do to ensure her failing. Because he surely needed to with the way things were going. She had no idea how close he was to hurting her. To not caring if he did. It’s like whatever wall that used to be there, protecting her from his monsters, was gone. He wasn’t sure how or why, just that they were.
He put his head against the shower wall, closing his eyes and gasping around the pain in his chest. Felt like a fucking death waiting to happen. He was giving her up. He was setting her free. That’s all. It was right. It was right and for once he’d do whatever it took to protect her. Even if it meant removing himself from the equation.
He stepped out of the shower and froze at finding Mercy there. “I wanted to take care of your wrists and ankles.” She wagged a first aid kit at him with a bright smile, eyes glued to his. He yanked a towel off the bar on his right and wrapped it around his waist, thinking of the best way to proceed. He needed to knock her off her game. “This more of your therapy?” He walked to the vanity and turned, leaning his ass against it and crossing his arms over his chest, meeting her bright innocent gaze.
“Just first aid,” she muttered, nodding but not moving.
He stared at her, his mind giving up a full blown bathroom fantasy. There needed to be none of that. And having her this close was too dangerous. “Leave it, I’ll do it.” He turned to the mirror and grabbed a hand towel. “You think privacy is too much to ask for? Doc?”
“No, of course not.” She cleared her throat lightly and set it on the counter next to him. “I was thinking we could start therapy tonight. Six o’clock.”
He turned on the water and wet a washcloth. “Whatever you say, doc. The sooner we start, the sooner we finish.”
“Okay then. Was thinking we’d do the sessions in my room.”
He only nodded.
“Just… bring yourself. For the first session.”
He didn’t answer her as he put the hot washcloth over his face.
“Alright then. See you at six. In my room. I made breakfast by the way. In the kitchen.”
He let her ramble and pretended she’d g
iven him the privacy he’d asked for. When he didn’t hear anything for a few seconds, he removed the washcloth and found her gone. Her absence was so much more painful than her presence when thinking of what he was doing. Fuck, but he needed to. She was kryptonite and he needed to figure out how to stay in the game but stay out of her. In all ways. But something told him her little display of therapy earlier said more of that was coming. He was just going to have to learn how to drown without dying.
Sade made his way to his own room in only a towel and got dressed then headed downstairs, hoping he didn’t run into her. He located the breakfast she mentioned and eyed the empty beach themed kitchen and dining, listening for signs of where anybody was. By the time he fed his gut, he casually strolled around, scoping things out. Nobody was at the pool, or downstairs except Liberty who was in her room. He went upstairs and peeked around. Where the fuck was she? She knew better than to be on the beach alone. He hurried downstairs and out the patio door leading to the beach path. He scanned the beach, not seeing anything but blinding white sand kissing diamond studded sapphire. Pissed, he raced around the house and found the jeep still there.
By the time he was back inside, he was out of breath and ready to radio the fucking boat. The basement. He hadn’t checked there. There was a gym, God she better be fucking there.
At reaching the bottom of the stairs he heard muffled music. Pausing at the outside of the door, he recognized hardcore dance music. He slowly cracked it open and his breath rushed out in relief at finding her there only to freeze back just as quickly at seeing what she was doing. Shadow fighting. Blindfolded. Wearing skintight black shorts and matching sports bra, using one of them Wing Chun looking wooden dummies. Judging by the sweat flying off her body with every rapid punch and kick, she’d been at it a while.
Desire gripped Sade as he watched all those tan muscles rippling with sexy perfection. And God that fucking ass. If anything brought him down, it would be that forbidden perfection.
He slipped inside and carefully shut the door as she put to shame an invisible mini-army surrounding her. Sade forgot all about therapy and games as he watched her. She was fucking epic, her body graceful and strong, begging to be fucked so very perfectly and properly. His dick was like a rock as he leaned against the wall, taking the torture. Fucking formidable. He studied her fighting style, spotting so many in one. He didn’t remember ever being so fixated on anything. So hungry. She was sadistic violence wrapped in succulent silk and he wanted to devour that with every part of him. He realized something that stirred his anger. She’d never once unleashed this kind of fighting on him. Not once. She’d been taking it easy on him. His demons didn’t like that one bit. He wasn’t sure why, but they didn’t.
But he liked it.
It suddenly seemed frugal to not be found there when she was done and as hard as it was to leave, he did so, very quietly, wondering as he made his way to his room, what fight or war she was practicing or preparing for.
Chapter Eight
Mercy dug through her closet, still dripping wet from her shower. She’d called in backup, and radioed her father with suppositional questions that he indulged her in, even though she was pretty sure he knew what she was asking for. “Suppose you have a man who is a sadomasochist who thinks pain is pleasure? How would you go about reversing that?”
Basically her father said what she was thinking, confirmed her thoughts. She just wanted to make sure, this was Sade’s life she was messing with. But she had her first day’s therapy in mind. Actually it would be mostly the same for all five days. Utter sensuality, sensitivity, love, tenderness—all the things he never had, that’s what she’d give him. Give him in ways he couldn’t resist. In ways he’d not had them if ever he did. She would create new desires in him to help give him a fighting chance to change. Out with the old, in with the new. Sounded so simple but she knew it would be anything but with him. He was being extra stubborn. She got that he was afraid of hurting her, she got that he hated that part of him with her. But geez he needed to give himself some credit and cut himself some slack.
She pulled out a light pink, flimsy dress. The material was thin enough to need a slip. Perfect. She’d not wear one. She had three hours till therapy and she wanted to be ready. She’d be a vision of delicacy, a wet dream of feminine sensuality. She put on a tiny bit of perfume, and just enough makeup. She wanted to be beautiful. Not sexy, beautiful. A sensual, beautiful woman. She’d never really been that before, so this was new ground for her too.
And to keep control of the situation, she was going to lay ground rules starting out. She’d had the brilliant idea of creating the classic, therapist-patient fantasy—only she wouldn’t tell him. The excitement of the things she could teach him and help him with made her giddy. He would learn a new desire for new things. And God, her privates were the happiest of all about that. But there was no time for guilt about it. She needed to find things around the beach house to serve her purpose. Soft items, sensual items. She froze, thinking. I should blindfold him. So the senses were heightened. Maybe not the entire time, just… some of the time. She needed him to make visual connections too. Or maybe she should just require him to close his eyes. And then open them. Whenever she felt it needed.
She needed to be prepared for his snarky attitude, though. He’d be trying to break her. Clobbering her with candy coated sarcasm.
She was ready for that.
****
Sade stared at the contract in his hands, reading. He’d found it in a neat envelope on the bed—his copy. He brought the envelope to his nose. Perfume? His cock twitched at the delicate floral scent, his mind trying to define the flower. Lavender maybe. With… vanilla. The combination made him hungry. He looked over the list, checking to make sure everything was the way it was when he signed it. He tossed it on the bed when finding it in order, wanting to vomit after reading over his conditions. He took a deep breath and sat on the bed. In thirty minutes he’d start the disconnect process with her. Count down to imminent and dire desolation.
Unlike her, he didn’t work out in the gym. He needed to be worked up, not relaxed. He would count on his violent anger in this to keep from needing other things. He just hoped if she pushed the sexual issue that he’d be able to pull off what he needed to. He was not fucking looking forward to using candy coated brutality with her. The only reason he could do it was how fucking bad it hurt him to do that. He’d aimed that pain at himself, he deserved that. Deserved all the pain he had to cause to protect her, even the pain he inflicted on her to accomplish it.
Therapy in her room. His heart hammered his chest when the time came to go.
He raised his hand to knock on the door then gave five rough knocks, hoping to throw her off her game from jump. And what was that game? Part of him was beyond curious and couldn’t wait to see what she pulled out of her hat of tricks. His sweet fucking magician, always wanting to do magic on him.
“Come in,” she called. More like sang. Score—Mercy 1, Sade 0.
He opened the door and walked in, shutting it behind him. His eyes locked on her—the fuck was she wearing? She faced away from him, before the desk that she seemed to have turned for an office type scenario. Or classroom. The dress she had on was nothing he’d ever seen her in, the clear thin material showed her perfect ass plain as day while she leaned over the desk doing who cares what. His eyes lowered over her muscular legs exposed from the upper thigh. If she bent a little more, he’d have a shot of her fucking ass and he was pretty damn sure she knew that.
He made his way to the chair before her desk and sat, hoping the view improved. His gaze dropped to those sexy ass pussy pink heels she wore. Fuck, she smelled good. His eyes went back up her legs, noticing the shine on them. His mouth watered, wanting to lick and taste and bite, and just fucking eat.
“So,” she said lightly, finally turning.
Sade averted his gaze and held back a laugh at the obvious show she’d just put on. After scanning the room, he finally made e
ye contact. Oh fuck. She was so fucking beautiful he had to look away. “Clock’s ticking, what’s the plan?”
“I want to talk to you.”
He forced himself to look at her again, putting plenty of cocky in his gaze. “About?”
“About your condition.”
“What about it?”
“I just…” she had her palms on the desk and when she lifted her shoulders, his eyes lowered to her tits for another sledgehammer to the stomach. There they were, fucking perky handfuls, staring at him through the paper-thin, pussy pink fabric. “I mean are you aware how you became a sadomasochist?”
Score—Mercy 2. Sade 0.
He lowered his gaze, not wanting her to see the heat burning in it. “Yes,” was the only answer to give.
“And are you aware that—”
“It’s not normal, no fucking shit, yes. I’m aware.” He looked right, stretching out his left leg to make room for his dick.
“Okay,” she said softly. “Just want to make sure we’re on the same page. So the plan of therapy I’d like to begin with you is introducing elements that you’re not normally aroused by, and see if we can create new arousals.”
The only thing Sade’s cock heard was create new arousal. And being the dick that it was, it jerked with eager attentiveness. He needed to calm down. He quickly threw in a couple thoughts of his father and in seconds, he put that fire right the fuck out.
“You okay with that? With me trying this?”
“You’re the doc,” he said, forcing the dry in his tone.
“Fantastic.” Her eagerness tickled his balls and he shifted in his seat. “I’d like you naked for this, please.”
She faced her desk now and presented that fucking ass for her little slam dunk. “No way.”
She turned, the look on her face saying she might have been expecting trouble there. “As your therapist Sade, I will need you to cooperate with me or this will not work. I’d like to keep this as professional as we can to ensure its success.”