Breathe (11 page)

Except . . . oh, he’d said . . .

She wasn’t allowed to come until he told her she could. For reasons she didn’t quite understand, she didn’t want to disappoint him.

“Eli . . .” Samantha tried to tense her body, to hold off the rising wave of pleasure. “Oh, please stop . . . I’m going to . . .”

Elijah withdrew his mouth just for a moment, then slid his tongue all the way inside her, and it was all Samantha could do not to scream.

“Do you want me to stop?” Elijah caught her clit between his two thumbs, dragged the rough edge of calluses over the tender flesh, and Samantha shuddered. “Tell me the truth.”

“No . . . God, no.” She was a live wire, a bomb about to explode. “But . . . you said . . . you said I can’t . . .”

“Come for me, Samantha.” Removing his mouth from her lower lips, he stood, his body pressing against hers all the way up. He wrapped a fist in the length of her braid and tugged her head back until the line of her neck was exposed. “Come for me now.”

He closed his teeth over the tender spot where her pulse beat, just below her jawline. Samantha’s muscles sagged, then snapped tight like a rubber band. Pleasure whipped through her, blinding her, stealing her hearing, her breath.

She loved it. She hated it.

Elijah was there holding her as she rode out the unexpected storm. She cried out, pulled on her chains until it hurt, but the bliss went on and on.

When it finally faded, Samantha was left wide-eyed and stunned, staring incredulous at Elijah.

“What the fuck was that?” she asked when she was finally able to speak. This time he couldn’t hold back his amusement, and he shook with laughter as he undid the cuffs holding up her arms and massaged the skin that had chafed against the metal.

“
That
was good,” he said, his hand stroking lightly over her back. She could feel the rock-hard length of his erection as he held her to him, and she arched her hips in invitation, wanting to give back some of the pleasure that he’d just given her.

To her confusion, he pulled away.

“Did you like it?” His face was serious, those intense blue eyes searching her face, trying to read her.

Samantha furrowed her brow as something dark worked its way into the light. She didn’t like that question. Why didn’t she like that question?

“I—” The words caught in her mouth as the darkness rolled over her again.

Did you like that, little girl?

The words from her past slammed into her with enough force that her knees buckled. Elijah caught her in his arms before she could fall.

“Let me go. Let me out.” She shoved at Elijah’s chest, her breath beginning to rasp in her throat.

No.
No
. She wouldn’t let these memories ruin this for her. She was stronger than that.

She struggled to inhale, then worked to release the breath again as Elijah dropped to his knees in front of her and released the cuffs that bound her ankles. She was trembling enough that once her feet were free she stumbled.

This time when Elijah caught her up in his arms, she didn’t shove him away.

“Thank you,” Samantha whispered through numb lips. Elijah scowled in response, snapping at a young man in a collar who stood nearby to bring them a blanket and a bottle of water.

He settled into an overstuffed armchair, Samantha on his lap. She curled into him, her breathing slowing as she registered whose arms she was in.

She was with Elijah. She was in his arms, at the club, and she was safe.

“Drink.” A fuzzy blanket was wrapped around her, and Elijah held a bottle of water up to her lips. Obediently she sipped at the liquid, felt its coolness ease some of her throat’s swelling from panic.

She shook her head when Elijah held the bottle up again. She felt him shift beneath her as he set the bottle aside.

Then he caught her chin in his hand and turned her head so that she looked right at him.

“What happened there?” Elijah pinned her with the intensity of his stare, and Samantha squirmed.

“Nothing. Just momentary panic.” She kept her voice light. She had spent a very long time trying to put the past behind her, and she wasn’t about to drag it out now.

“I told you not to lie.” Elijah spoke sternly, as if bestowing an important lesson, and prickles of guilt rode out over Samantha’s skin.

She didn’t know quite why, but she really didn’t like the thought of disappointing him.

She didn’t know what to say, so she pressed her lips together tightly, sealing the words inside.

“You liked being bound.” It was clear that Elijah wasn’t asking her a question. Still, she nodded in agreement, though the movement was stiff and jerky.

The sensation of being locked into the cuffs, the chains—it had been more than sexual for her. It had made her feel free.

“You enjoyed my touch on your breasts. And you liked it when I used my mouth on you.” Again, Elijah spoke surely. Samantha felt as though she should be embarrassed to be dissecting their encounter like this, but Elijah was so matter-of-fact about it that it didn’t make sense for her to feel mortified.

“I did,” Samantha agreed softly. There was no use denying it, not when he’d made her come the way he had—in public, no less.

“So it must have been something after. Either when I released you from the cuffs or when I spoke to you.” Bingo. Samantha schooled her face into what she hoped was an expressionless mask.

This was not open for discussion. Not now, not ever.

“Samantha.” There was a command in his voice, and Samantha found that she couldn’t look away. There was deep concern in his eyes, and the depth of it startled her.

Why should he care about any of this? Why would he bother to find out anything about her? It was clear that she was interested in him physically. Why would he want any more?

“I can’t.” Samantha tried to rid herself of the tremble in her voice. She’d never been the type to enjoy feeling like a damsel in distress.

“Can’t or won’t?” Elijah asked.

Samantha didn’t hear any judgment in his tone, but she reacted as if she had.

“I won’t.” Struggling to free herself from his arms, Samantha looked away, feeling the tears well up in her eyes before she gathered up her self-control and faced him again. “It’s not something I’m going to be talking about. Not ever again.”

Elijah pressed his lips together tightly, finally letting go so she could free herself. She stood up and tensed, preparing herself for an argument.

Instead she found herself blinking in surprise as he unwound the fuzzy blanket from her legs, then smoothed the skirt of her nightie around her hips. He hooked sure fingers in the straps of the bodice, pulling them up until they were again settled on her shoulders.

Elijah stood as well, and Samantha noted that, even though he’d been on his knees in front of her, even though he’d had her crushed in his arms, he didn’t appear wrinkled or mussed in the least.

He held out a hand for her, and after a long moment she finally took it, enjoying the warmth of his palm pressed into her own.

“Come on. Let’s get you something to eat.”

•   •   •

E
lijah watched with eagle eyes as Samantha tugged uncomfortably at the short skirt of her nightgown. He knew she was uncomfortable dressed as she was in public, though he’d assured her that the diner that sat next door to the club catered to clientele in all states of dress—or undress.

He’d been there once before, when he’d checked out the other BDSM club in the area prior to opening Devorar and, to his relief, nothing had changed. People dressed in rubber, dog collars, and hobble skirts sat at booths with cracked leather seats, drinking sodas and eating nacho chips with no more self-consciousness than if they’d been wearing blue jeans.

He felt Samantha relax a bit as they pushed through the glass door and walked into the steam-and-spice-infused air of the diner. She didn’t relax as completely as he knew she was capable of, though, and he was glad.

He wanted her off balance. In his experience, people tended to be more honest when they were.

“What would you like to drink?” he asked as he settled her into a booth, regretting the embarrassment that was on her face. So many people worried after letting go in a scene, after spilling a secret that they’d held close to them.

But the entire point of the BDSM lifestyle was exactly that: to let go.

“Diet cola, please.” Samantha kept her eyes down and Elijah frowned. It wasn’t that she was feeling submissive, he knew, but that she felt embarrassed.

He needed to give her something else to think about.

Leaning over, he placed his hands on her shoulders, wishing it was her soft skin he was touching rather than the thin weave of the cardigan that she’d insisted on putting on over her nightie. She looked up at the touch, startled.

Though he wanted to take a moment to inhale that floral scent that was so uniquely hers, he kept her needs in the front of his mind. Without any warning, Elijah slanted his lips over Samantha’s in a kiss that was hot and hard, demanding more.

He heard her swift intake of breath—felt his own breath catch—and savored the feeling of her trembling beneath his fingers. He deepened the kiss, swiping his tongue over the seam of her lips, demanding entrance.

He’d started the kiss as a distraction for her, but felt the heat flash all the way through his body.

She didn’t become limp and pliant beneath his caress; instead, she answered with her own fire. He hadn’t expected it, but he thrilled to it just the same.

A wolf whistle pierced the lust-fueled haze that surrounded them, reminding Elijah of where they were, of why he had kissed Samantha in the first place.

Slowly he pulled back, feeling the heat of her lips imprinted on his own.

As she blinked up at him with those mesmerizing green eyes, her fingers strayed to her lips to trace the path that his mouth had just traveled.

“I’ll go get you some food. Why don’t you stay here?” Truthfully, Elijah was relieved to have a moment to clear his thoughts.

Shit
. That kiss had made his head spin . . . and it was simply a
kiss
. It made him wonder what would happen when he was deep inside her again, her wrists bound, her body beneath his.

His cock liked that image and threatened to stand at attention. He inhaled deeply to calm himself down. A raging erection might have been perfectly normal at a BDSM club, but in other public places, even a diner that catered to the same crowd, it wasn’t exactly the norm.

He ordered a meal for the two of them and carried it back to the table. Samantha immediately grabbed the soda he offered her and sucked deeply on the straw, her cheeks hollowing as she did and bringing all kinds of other naughty images to his mind.

She frowned and looked at him over the plastic lid of the cup. “This isn’t diet.” Unlike many women he’d met, who would have sulked or made a fuss, she simply raised an eyebrow in question.

“You don’t need diet,” he replied, offering her a crooked smile.

What she needed was the sugar and caffeine of the regular version after the intensity of their scene at Pecado.

“I haven’t made a decision yet.” Samantha didn’t wait for him to start the conversation.

“You have until tonight.” Elijah pulled the tray of food to him, picked out a fish taco with salsa and sour cream, and handed it to Samantha.

She took it, but looked disgruntled.

“I have until tomorrow,” she reminded him, then sniffed at the taco. “And I don’t like fish.”

“I think you’ll like this,” Elijah promised, picking up one of his own and biting into it. The flavors exploded across his tongue, and he found that he even resented the potency, because it chased away the taste of Samantha.

“And, no, you have until the end of today. It’s after midnight.”

Craning her neck, Samantha looked around until her gaze faced a large clock mounted on the diner’s wall. She muttered something under her breath, then glared at the taco.

“I’ve never found a fish I like.” She sniffed again, and Elijah swallowed a chuckle when he heard her stomach growl.

He made a show of shrugging carelessly. “That’s all I ordered.”

She eyed the taco again, clearly considering it. She raised it, then lowered it again, watching curiously as Elijah finished his first taco and picked up a second.

“Yes?” he asked her, reaching for her soda to steal a sip.

“I didn’t take you for the kind of man to enjoy cheap tacos at an all-night diner,” she said, then finally nibbled at the corner of the tortilla. Elijah watched with satisfaction as pleasure spread over her face—pleasure that she visibly tried to repress.

She was so damn cute when she was contrary . . . which was all the time. She intrigued him enough that he was willing to indulge her contrary streak a while longer.

He knew that when she finally did submit to him, it would be well worth the wait.

He watched as she took a second bite of the taco, pursing her lips when she caught him watching.

“How is it?” he asked seriously, holding back another grin when Samantha raised her nose in the air.

“It’s better than it should be, given that it’s fish.” She met his eyes and the corners of her lips turned up warily, seeming to know she’d been caught.

“I’m not sure I should tell you this, but I will. You confuse me.” Elijah cocked his head at her to observe her reaction, studying the way the low light of the diner’s interior shone on her cherry red curls.

Samantha swallowed a bite of taco. Man, he could watch her mouth all day. Her tongue flicked out over her lips and he stifled a groan.

“Why do I confuse you?” Her voice was hesitant. She reached for a napkin to wipe her fingers, then crumpled it up in a suddenly tight fist.

“I don’t think I believe you want to be fully submissive,” he said finally, and he made sure to make his tone arrogant. He wanted to rile her up, wanted to see what her reaction would be.

She didn’t disappoint. Her cheeks flushed with temper and she tossed the crumpled napkin down on the tray as her shoulders stiffened.

“Don’t tell me what I want.” Her eyes were like green arrows pinning him where he sat.