Dominance and Deception (19 page)

Obediently, I leant forward to take a drink, sighing softly as the liquid soothed my dry mouth.

Too much gasping and moaning really dehydrates a girl

The glass was almost empty by the time I had finished.

"Thank you, Sir,” I murmured, and he stood again, first putting down the water, then casually stripping off his shirt, letting it fall within my line of sight.

Pulling me to my feet, he pressed his body against mine, letting the hard planes of his chest rub against my breasts.

"Any objection to being tied down?"

I knew the devious things he could do with ropes—I wasn't sure if it was a police thing or a Dom thing, but he could truss me up more quickly and securely than any other top I'd had, in a variety of different positions. Though I loved being tied by him in most circumstances, this time I got the feeling that whichever way I answered, I was going to regret it in some way.

On one hand, part of me baulked at not being able to move while he kept me on edge, the way I'd tormented him. On the other, I knew once I got to a certain point, I'd forget to keep still and only end up with more of the same to endure, or worse—nothing at all.

He sensed my hesitation and, with a brief kiss, reminded me, “You still get to safe word out of this, little tease. No repercussions for that."

"I know, Sir.” Taking a deep breath, I nodded. “Tie me."

Within five minutes, I was lying diagonally across the bed, my thighs spread and the soles of my feet resting on the mattress. Each ankle was tied to the wrist on the same side and rope securely anchored each bent knee to a bedpost—the top right post for my right wrist and ankle, the bottom left post for the other side. Those ropes ensured that even if I attempted to escape Pierce's touches by drawing my thighs together, my knees were unable to meet.

He watched me tug against the bindings, examining his handiwork with a small smile.

"Comfortable?"

I nodded, and he took his time settling back between my legs, first leaning over me to kiss me with a gentleness that made me tremble. He moved down to my neck, teasing the sensitive pulse point there with his tongue, and with a soft sigh I tilted my head to give him better access.

His touch was feather-light against my nipples—I felt the effect mostly between my thighs, rather than registering his fingertips. The pleasure was a bearable tickle, almost relaxing, and I drifted on it with a purr of encouragement. A tiny voice at the back of my mind tried to remind me this was only the beginning, but I ignored it in favour of the immediacy of the moment.

When he nuzzled my stomach, planting soft kisses there, I realised he must have shaved while I was in the kitchen—there was no trace of stubble on his face to irritate my flesh. I arched a little, enjoying the sensation of his skin against mine, and he moved lower, tracing his lips to the dip between my thigh and my pelvic bone. I was tied so my legs were bent, and he bypassed my tingling labia to kiss and nip his way up to my knee, bringing himself into a sitting position.

My breath caught sharply when he slid his fingers back down my leg, over my clit for an instant, before skimming across the soaked skin around it.

"Sir..."

He eased a finger inside me, allowing me to push against his hand to draw him in deeper.

"Did I give you permission to speak?"

Some days I could get away with it, but today wasn't one of them. I shut up fast, biting back a plea for him to take me hard and fast. He added a second finger, keeping the strokes slow and maddeningly teasing, but letting me control the angle—up to a certain point. He brushed his thumb against my clit every now and then—not enough to take me all the way, but the sensation was delicious all the same.

When I was trembling against him, my eyes and fists squeezed tightly shut in anticipation of the orgasm I craved so badly, he murmured, “Look at me, little tease..."

I opened my eyes, focussing on him with an effort as he increased the pace of his fingers inside me. He was giving me the Dom look—not the stare he'd turn on me when I stepped out of line, but the analytical, slightly amused once-over he'd use just before he said or did something to make me crazy.

"Are you close?"

He already knew I was—he just wanted to make me say it, and he was completely aware of the effort it took me to form coherent sentences when I was like this.

"Do you wanna come for me, little...” His eyes flicked down to the word
cunt
written on my lower abdomen, and he hesitated just long enough for me to make the association before finishing his sentence. “...tease?"

I opened my mouth to answer him, and at a deft flick of his thumb ended up crying out instead, my eyes falling closed. He didn't let up, but I heard the warning edge to his tone as he reminded, “Look at me."

When I did, he was watching me carefully, waiting for my response, and I gasped out, “I don't know if I can stop myself..."

With a one-shouldered shrug, he curled his fingers just right, and I squirmed desperately against the mattress, trying not to lose it.

He waited until I'd regained my precarious hold on the edge of reason before pointing out, “I never asked you to hold back."

While I was still processing that, he pulled abruptly away from me, leaving me aching with need and completely unfulfilled.

"
Fuck!
"

Only sheer, stubborn determination stopped me from safe wording right then. I was so frustrated I was half-sobbing, attempting to curl into a ball against any further torment, but unable to because of the ropes that bound me. He was right—I could have taken the orgasm he'd been so close to giving me, and I kicked myself for not seeing the opportunity.

"Sir,” I whispered, a single-syllable plea with a thousand-word babble behind it.

Don't leave me like this—I can't take it—my brain will explode and my body will just spontaneously combust and, oh God, I want you want you need you please please please—

Despite my silence, he knew what I was trying to say. Shifting positions, he ran his tongue slowly and deliberately over my labia, avoiding my clit and kissing and nipping the flesh around it. When he finally began to coax me to the edge again, licking and gently sucking on my clit, I was more than ready to take the plunge into oblivion, and God, I needed it so much—

He raised his head, once again leaving me dangling at the edge, to say, “If you get close enough, you don't need my permission to come."

I swallowed a snarl of frustration, gritting my teeth as my mind zigzagged between amusement and irritation.

I knew that, and he knows I knew that, and if I don't get to come soon I'm gonna need a padded cell...

He paused for a couple of seconds, letting the pleasure ebb to a bearable level, before beginning all over again. It wasn't long before I was pushing against his fingers and tongue as much as my restraints would allow, my sighs becoming moans, then cries. Just as I was about to fall apart, he stilled his fingers inside me, blowing lightly on my clit.

"Oh, you god damned son of a—"

Oh my fucking God, oh, oh God,
there
...

I didn't know if I had just thought the words, or screamed them, but just when I'd lost hope, he went right back to where he'd left off, and I only needed a little more, just a little...

My capacity for conscious thought blinked out of existence, and I gasped, shaking and bucking against him as uncontrollable waves of ecstasy claimed me—pulse after deep pulse of mind-splintering pleasure that left me senseless.

Finally...
finally
...

I floated on the aftershocks, dimly aware of Pierce's fingers releasing me from the ropes that bound me. He stretched out beside me, pulling me against him, and I draped an arm and leg over his body, snuggling close and trying to regain my breath.

"You're pure evil, Sir..."

His quiet laugh vibrated through his chest to mine.

"You had it coming."

"So, is it true what they say about revenge?"

Pierce ran a light hand between my legs, for emphasis rather than to provoke me.

"That it's a dish best served cold? Not as far as I remember from two minutes ago..."

Grinning, I slid a lazy hand down to his neglected erection, still too exhausted to do anything about it.

"If I had the energy to move, I'd do some tasting of my own right now..."

"Oh, you will, little tease. Soon,” he growled in response, tilting up my chin to kiss me hard. “I'm not letting you out of bed for the majority of the night."

Feeling my blood faintly begin to stir again in response, I pressed my hand against him a little harder.

"More revenge, Sir?"

He shook his head with a predatory grin.

"Not revenge... Just a precaution to make sure the lesson sticks."

"I always did enjoy studying..."

Pierce had been way too tense all week. The case we'd closed the Thursday before had messed with his brain—a woman and her child had been murdered before they could testify in a shooting connected to the Mafia.

We'd found the culprits, but it had been a close call, and as with any case that involved the death of a child, Pierce was on edge. Too on edge for him to trust himself as a Dom, and he kept pushing me away. Not physically, but he wasn't exactly welcoming me into his arms.

I left him alone for a while, letting him have some time to work through it. Almost a week on, he showed no sign of surfacing from his brooding state—he was letting the past overwhelm him, adding this failure to the other innocents he'd been unable to save since he'd become a cop. He needed to lose himself for a while. And even though he'd told me never to try this on him again, I could tell he needed it.

"Listen up, detective."

He looked up sharply, the tone of my voice eliciting a frown. “Don't even think about it."

"I know cases like the Collins murders are hard.” I kept my tone Domme-ly, leaning in the doorway with my arms folded under my breasts. “But brooding isn't gonna help. Now go and shower."

He stood, crossed the distance between us and squared up to me, giving me his full ‘Sir’ persona out of habit rather than will.

"You suffering from memory loss, little tease?"

"No, Sir.” Acting instinctively, I dropped to my knees and looked up at him from my position on the floor. “But I learnt from my mistakes, and I think what I have in mind will help."

He sighed, obviously conflicted, and tugged me to my feet again.

"Faye..."

"Do you trust me?” I put a hand to his stubble-covered face, and he softened a little.

"You already know the answer to that."

"Then
trust
me."

Pierce held out a second longer before nodding slowly.

"Don't make me regret it, little tease. I still have that marker pen."

While Pierce was in the bedroom, I ducked into the bathroom and stole his razor and shaving cream and a pack of disposables from the cabinet.

Phase one complete.

Once I heard the water running, I looked through the assorted items of clothing I had stored at his place, finding a transparent, burgundy mesh micro-skirt I hadn't worn yet.

And, ooh, look... Hold-up stockings to match. I forgot I had these...

Skinning down to my black satin bra and panties, I looked critically down at myself.

A change of underwear might be in order. Do I have any burgundy stuff here?

A quick search later, I found an underwear set that was pretty damn close, and shimmied into the whole ensemble.

Not long until Zach gets out of the shower—where are those damn heels?

By the time Pierce shut the water off, I'd dolled myself up enough that ‘little tease’ was almost off the radar. When he walked back in, a towel around his waist and his hair damp and tousled, I purred appreciatively.

He glanced over at me, then did a double-take, eyeing me in the same way I was looking at him.

"Hi."

"Hey there, detective."

The shower seemed to have relaxed him a little, and he gave me a slow smile. “Wouldn't happen to know where all my razors are, by any chance?"

Innocently, I pointed to the top of the dresser, where I'd placed the items in question. He looked from me to them, and back again. “Go on. I'll bite."

"Oh,
really
?” I walked around him in a seductive circle, looking him up and down. “Then have a seat."

He sat on the edge of the bed and waited. I decided to leave the towel around his waist for now, and instead picked up the shaving cream from the dresser, sauntered over to him and straddled his waist.

He slid his hands up my stockinged thighs before creeping them around to cradle my ass.

"You can be very strange, you know that?"

I scowled at him. “Did I ask you to speak, detective?"

"Didn't ask me not to,” he pointed out, and I granted him that with a shrug.

"I'm asking you not to now."

His eyes wandered downwards from my face in a slow exploration, but he didn't speak. Satisfied, I got to work with the shaving foam, keeping my touches so deliberate they were almost foreplay.

Once I had finished, I got up from his lap and reached over into my bag for the
piece de resistance
of my little scene.

His eyebrows shot up as I flicked open the old-fashioned straight razor, but he kept his silence admirably. I almost called him a ‘good boy', but he hadn't been too happy about being addressed that way last time.

"I'll ask you again, detective. Do you trust me?"

Pierce took a moment to think about it, his eyes on the razor.

"Yes."

I really had learnt my lesson—I didn't even demand that he called me ‘Mistress'.

"Good to know,” I murmured, leaving a trail of kisses along his collarbones. “Wait there."

It only took a couple of minutes for me to return with a bowlful of hot water, and then the fun began.

I wanted to sit in his lap again, but decided to drag over the wooden stool from the corner of the room instead.

"As much as I like feeling your cock between my legs, detective, I don't trust you not to wriggle. And if you wriggle, I might end up cutting your throat. Not sexy, I'm sure you'd agree."