Because He Torments Me (10 page)

 
The bed was a simple platform bed with a steel frame.
 
Shackles hung from the headboard and the
sides.
 
Callum laid me down in the
middle of the bed, on top of a soft taupe-colored comforter.
 
He stripped off my dress and thong and
then I heard the clang of metal as he pulled the shackles down from the
headboard and cuffed me to the bed.
 
He looked down at me, and his eyes softened, his fingers tangling with
my hair.
 
He chest heaved with
arousal, and he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“You know to safe word? “ he whispered.

I nodded.

He reached under me and pushed my knees up and
then, as if out of nowhere, from the sides of the bed he pulled out another
pair of shackles, which were placed around my ankles.

I was trapped now, bound to the bed, laying on
my back, my arms above me, my knees raised, my legs spread, giving him
unencumbered access to my body.

Panic bloomed inside of me as I realized just
how helpless I was, how at his mercy.
 
And under that pulsed desire so strong I didn’t know it could even exist.

Callum stood up and walked around the bed,
staring down at me.
 

A shiver of trepidation rose up my spine as I
realized he’d brought the belt in with him, and he trailed it over the bed as
he walked, almost as if he was deciding what to do with me.

Then he shucked off his pants and mounted the
bed, grabbed me around my ass and pulled me down, and then, without warning,
flicked the belt against my open pussy.

I gasped.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

“Tell me I own you.”

“You own me.”

“Do you want to please me, Adriana?”

“Yes, sir.”

He flicked the belt against my pussy again, the
hot sting sending vibrations of ecstasy zinging through my body.
 
“Do you think it pleased me to see you
with someone else?”

“No, sir.”

He leaned over, his breath hot on my open
pussy, and he stroked my thighs, his thumbs spreading my folds.
 
And then, without warning, he was eating
me, his tongue sliding inside of me, over and over again, his mouth taking me.

He tongue fucked me with smooth, strong
strokes, and he sucked my clit into his mouth, teasing the hard nub.

I needed to come.

I was going to come, but I was afraid if I told
him, he wouldn’t let me.

So I stayed quiet, but it was no use.

He knew I was close.

But somehow, mercifully, he decided to put me
out of my misery, his mouth moving faster, the stubble on his cheeks moving over
the soft skin of my thighs as my orgasm overwhelmed my body.

Wave after wave of pleasure took me, his mouth
and fingers and lips working together to intensify the shocking bliss.

I hadn’t even caught my breath before he was
kneeling in front of me, his dick on my pussy, the head throbbing as he pushed
it against my clit.

I’d barely finished coming and yet I could feel
a new wetness starting down there, and I arched my back and tried to push into
him.

“No,” he said, and pushed my hip down onto the
bed, holding me there tightly.
  
He grinned at me with that amused,
cocky look of his, and I whimpered.

“I can’t fuck you, baby,” he said, his gaze
sliding over my naked body.
 
“But,
fuck, I want to.”

“Please,” I begged.
 
“Please, Mr. Wilder… please, sir, I want
you to.”

He shook his head.
 
“I can’t, baby.”
 
He held my hip down with one hand, his
grip so tight and strong that it rendered me immobile.
 
I loved how easily he handled my body,
how with just one hand he could take me, render me completely helpless.

I needed him inside of me so bad, felt like I
would explode if he didn’t fuck me.
 

With this other hand he spread my pussy,
rocking his hips so that his hard dick moved over my slick folds, the thick
shaft pushing me open, his swollen head hitting my clit.

“God, I want to,” he said.
 
“Your cunt’s so wet for me, that clit is
throbbing, Lemon.”
 
His tone was
still that teasing tone he used on me when he was trying to drive me crazy, but
his features had darkened, his eyes hooded with intensity.

“Please, Cal – sir,” I said, attempting
to writhe on the bed.

But he held me still with his hand, pinning me
down.

He pushed the head of his cock against my core,
and his breathing quickened, his shoulder muscles flexing as he moved over me.

“Please,” I said again. “I’m yours.
 
I’ll do anything you want.”

“Fuck,” he said.
 
“I can’t.”
 
He shook his head, but I heard the
resolve slipping from his voice as he began to lose his grip on his control.

Our eyes locked, his body poised over mine.

“Callum,” I whispered.
 
“Please.
 
I want to feel you inside of me.
 
I need you.”

He groaned and then with one hard stroke entered
me.
 
The relief was instant and
intense, his girth filling me, stretching me, and the ache I’d felt for him dissipated
for a moment and then roared back to life stronger than ever as he pushed
harder inside of me.

He tilted his hips, getting a better angle on
me, and that, coupled with the fact that my knees were still bent and my ankles
still cuffed, rocked swells of pleasure through my entire body.

“Callum,” I moaned, and he silenced me with a
kiss, his tongue invading my mouth as his cock made me his.

He fucked me long and slow while he kissed me
senseless, then he reached behind me and let me out of the handcuffs.

“If you move,” he growled.
 
“I will lock you back up.
 
Do you understand?”

I nodded.

He pulled me toward him, until I was straddling
him.
 
He was still inside of me, and
now I could feel him against my clit, and my breath hitched in my chest.

He stared into my eyes and began moving slowly
inside of me, using his hands to hold my hips and pull me down on his
cock.
 
I didn’t move
,
letting him have complete ownership of my body, knowing if
I didn’t the punishment would be swift and severe.

My hands wrapped around him, feeling the hard
ridges of his muscular shoulder blades, the perfect smoothness of his golden
skin.

He pulled me toward him, my breasts rubbing
against his chest, my nipples standing at attention.

“Sir,” I begged.
 
“I need to come.”

“Come, baby,” he said.
 
“I want to feel you come on me.”

His words pushed me over the cliff, and I came
for the second time, my previous orgasm doing nothing to diminish the ferociousness
of this one, and I called out his name as it pulsed through me.

“Good girl,” he groaned and then he was looking
at me, his eyes on mine as he began rocking himself harder into me.

“Look down,” he said.
 
“Look at my dick going inside of you.”

I looked down and watched him disappearing
inside of me.
 
He was so hard, so
big, and I had a hard time believing I was able to take him all.

“Tell me how bad you want my come.”

“I want it,” I said, panting.
 
“I want to feel it.”

He grabbed me around the waist, pushed me down
on the bed, the soft romantic rocking he’d just been doing replaced with
animalistic thrusting as he used my body for his need.

A moment later I felt him release inside of me,
and when he collapsed on top of me, sweaty and panting, I wrapped my arms
around his body and held him to me.

I could feel his heart beating against mine,
and when he pulled away from me, I instantly missed him, wanted him back next
to me.

He rolled to the other side of the bed, reached
down and undid the cuffs around my ankles.

He crossed the room to the dresser and pulled
out a pair of track pants, pulled them on, then pulled out a long t-shirt and
set it on the end of the bed, I assumed for me.

“Would you like some water, Adriana?”
 
His tone was slightly detached, and I
didn’t like it.
 
It reminded me of
the way he’d talked to me that morning in Florida, when I’d come downstairs and
he’d been sitting at the table reading the paper.

I didn’t want any water.

“Sure,” I said anyway.

He nodded, then turned and walked out of the room.
 

The apartment was small, and I could hear him
in the kitchen, the creak of a cupboard opening, the sound of water running.

I sat there for a moment, my heart pounding.

Then I grabbed the t-shirt and pulled it over
my head.

I waited for him to return.

I waited.

And waited.

Eventually, the apartment lapsed into
silence.
 
But he couldn’t have
left.
 
I hadn’t heard the front door
open.

I waited another moment or two, then got up and
padded into the living room.

Two glasses of water sat on the tiny kitchen counter.

Callum was in the living room, sitting on the
couch, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.
 
I watched him for a moment, so
beautiful, his hair mussed, his body so cut it took my breath away.

He didn’t look like a man who’d just had
incredible sex.
 
He looked like a
man who was in the midst of emotional torture.

I took a step toward him.

“Callum?” I tried.

“Adriana,” he said, his voice even.
 
“I’ll be back to bed in a minute.”

“Is everything okay?”

He didn’t answer, and I hesitated, afraid that
if I pushed him, he would shut down.
 
But when he didn’t tell me to go away, I walked over to the couch and
sat down next to him.

I put my hand on his knee.

“Callum,” I said.
 
“What is it?
 
Is it me, did I… did I do something
wrong?”
 

He looked at me sharply.
 
“No.”
 
He shook his head.
 
“No, Adriana, God, no, you were
perfect.
 
You are perfect.”

“Then I don’t understand, I don’t…” I licked my
bottom lip, trying to gather my thoughts, trying to figure out a way to get
through to him.

His hand curled around mine, our fingers
intertwining.

“That can’t happen again,” he said.

I took in a breath through my nose, my rage
reigniting.
 
This again?
 
I hated that he kept saying that, and my
first instinct was to throw a fit, to yell at him, to march out of there and
tell him to leave me alone. But that tactic obviously hadn’t been working.

“You keep saying that,” I said instead.
 
“And yet it keeps happening.”

“No, you don’t understand.”
 
He shook his head and then opened his mouth
to say something before changing his mind and stopping.

“Help me understand,” I said softly, tightening
my fingers around his hand.

“What happened in there just now…” He shook his
head.
 
“I couldn’t control it.”

“So?
 
I wanted it to happen, Callum.”
 
I didn’t understand what the big deal was.
 
I had a safe word to use if I needed
it.
 
I liked what we’d
done,
liked how rough he was with me.
 
It turned me on to submit to him, to let
him have his way with me.

He swallowed and took his hand from mine before
steepling
his fingers together.
 
His foot tapped impatiently against the
hardwood floor, his body wired with nervous energy.

He looked at me, his eyes locking on mine.
 
“I can’t stay away from you,” he said,
sounding awestruck.

“Then don’t,” I said, putting my hand back on
his arm, tracing my fingers over the rippled muscle of his bicep.
 
“I don’t want you to stay away from me.”

“I have to.
 
I’m not good for you, Adriana.”

“Let me decide that.”

“No, you don’t understand,” he said again,
frustrated.
 
He stood up and began
pacing back and forth in front of the couch.
 
“This was not supposed to happen.
  
My rule is one night.
 
One night only.”