Roxy Harte (4 page)

“Please Garrett, make love to me now!”

“I am making love to you, Kitten.”

“I want you inside of me, now!” I growled.

Garrett flicked his tongue deeper between my labia, pressing his tongue inside me, withdrawing to run his tongue over my clit, replacing his tongue with a single finger, entering me softly, slowly, sliding back and forth, in, out, causing me to writhe beneath him, screaming. Pulling his length over me, he pressed his lips to mine, his finger still sliding in, out, his mouth tasting of me. “Is that what you had in mind, Kitten?”

Panting, smiling, I answered, “I was thinking more along the lines of your big ass dick, but if you think that’s the best you can do, I’ll take it.”

“You are such a bad girl, Kitten.” He growled, flipping me onto my stomach, pushing my knees under me, pulling my panties down to give me exactly what I wanted. He filled me in one long, solid thrust, hitting the wall of my insides. I gasped, embracing the small pain.

Garrett withdrew a little, sliding in and out so softly.

“No!” I screamed into the pillow, wanting it hard, wanting what that first thrust had promised. “Take me hard, Garrett, please take me hard.”

“No, Kitten. I promised to make love to you. No pain tonight.”

His dick slid in and out, so unbearably soft, I arched, pressing up, pushing my ass into him, trying to get the most out of each soft slide.
Slide, slide, slide.

“You are killing me!”

“No, Kitten, in the months to come, you will remember this night, this softness…this gentleness will be what you crave—not the pain. Lord Fyre will overwhelm you with pain and I will be your soothing balm when you close your eyes at night. You will remember me making love to you.”

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I awoke in the early hours just before dawn to find him rising, dressing. I caught his hand and pulled him back down. He didn’t resist.

I traced the long, defined line of his arm, veins standing out, touchable blue beneath the skin, his fine, dark hair soft. He sat there, watching me memorize him. “I don’t want you to go.”

“Staying will only make it harder, Kitten.”

“I don’t want you to go,” I whispered, tugging his arm to pull him toward me. “Kiss me once more so that I can remember the taste of you in my dreams.”

He reached out and brushed my bangs out of my face, leaving his hand at the top of my head as he looked into my eyes. His other hand reached to cup the side of my face, and still he made no move to kiss me. I was afraid he would refuse.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

“Memorizing your face, Kitten. Three months without your beauty…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He lowered his head and kissed me, softly, gently, even sucking my bottom lip into his mouth with an utter tenderness that made me cry—warm liquid tears that slid over my cheeks without stopping—he was saying good-bye. I was saying good-bye and suddenly, I wanted him to make love to me softly. So softly that the memory of it would keep me sane while I was away from him.

I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman.

-Anais Nin

Kitten

Tearing through the thick undergrowth of the shadowy mini-forest between my backyard and the community park, I questioned my sanity, but I felt better than I had in weeks, even though I was running late, though only by five minutes. He’d warned me to not be late. I prayed he didn't leave. The wisp of turquoise silk skirt was to blame. I changed my top three times because nothing matched the skirt. Now I am late, only minutes, but still—late.

Racing through the damp, muggy, mini-forest, I realized my chosen top, a white spaghetti-strapped lace camisole, was a bad choice. I would be stained and filthy before I ever reached the park. Crashing through waist-high weeds and batting at silvery lines left by spiders as they flew across the path, I was on a harrowing journey though a small cleft of woods—labeled green space on county records—the middle of civilization, but so not civilized. Chirping squirrels, calling birds and the clicking things in dark shadows I had no desire to discover. I tripped twice trying to escape unseen danger I imagined lurking in the shadows.

Relief filled me as I spilled out onto mowed grass and I caught sight of him, leaning against the silvery leg of an ancient swing set. My breath caught as I saw for the first time perhaps just how huge and powerful a man he was. A man to be feared.

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I stalled in the shadows for only a second, frozen by the sight of him, before I crossed the open span of lawn. He was like a big Greek God come to earth, a God of war or destruction, so dark and brooding, all height and muscle. Caught in the bright sunlight, his black hair seemed to soak in the heat, reflecting back nothing, his skin so deeply tanned that it seemed right at home in the blazing heat, the flame tattoos licking up his biceps seeming ready to ignite the man. He wore a skintight black T-shirt, the sleeves cut off and the round neck cut to create a V. He wore the T-shirt tucked in, further emphasizing the flat-ridged plane of his abdominals, but it was his tight, black leather pants that held my attention, seeming to mold to every curve, defining his thighs and, yeah, his package. I blushed, thinking about the penis behind the prominence of leather, already imagining that if the truth lived up to the size of the bulge…I swallowed hard, wondering if he’d gone to great lengths to try to seduce me or if this was his everyday look when not at Lewd Larry’s. Now that I thought about it, he was actually dressed so that he could have just left work or was going to work.

He had to be melting in those pants, but if he was, it didn’t show.

He did nothing to acknowledge that he saw me, not even the slightest tilt of his head, but I knew he did, I felt his gaze on me as I started to walk toward him.

“I’m sorry I'm late.” The words gushed out with the remaining air in my lungs. I’d held my breath when I saw him, but even that hadn’t stilled my breathing after my race through the woods. I panted, out of breath. He lifted his brow as I doubled over, trying to breathe. I peeked up at him from under my bangs, not quite ready to stand straight, barely able to inhale. “Thank you for not leaving.”

“My God, you’re out of shape!” He pulled my hands from my knees, forcing me upright, forcing my hands over my head.

I bent at my side, trying to relieve a side pinch, struggling to pull my hand from his grasp to rub my side.

“Keep your arms up and breathe,” he commanded. “It won’t hurt so much if you expand your lung area.

Inhale slow and deep.”

“I must appear ridiculous to you.”

“No, not ridiculous.” He pulled me to a swing and pushed me into it.

Closing my eyes, I relaxed into the rubber seat that hugged my butt, warm from the sun, heat rising through my skirt in a relaxing embrace. Arms still stretched over my head, I focused on breathing until I could actually inhale without pain. When I opened my eyes, he knelt before me. I trembled at his nearness for no other reason than he was near.

I’d given myself to him—for ninety days—
starting now
.

Oh God, what have I done? A sudden flash of memory filled my brain, and I remembered the feel of his tongue in my mouth, his taste. He’d only kissed me once…at Garrett’s house when Garrett hadn’t been home…and he’d caught me doing something wrong, something deceptive. He’d punished me by kissing me. His kiss had repulsed me, scared the shit out of me. I wasn’t ready for Lord Fyre then. He terrified me. He still terrified me.

Kneeling in front of me, he put his hands on my knees and I jumped.

“You said you were ready for this,” he accused, his eyes burning into my soul with a heat that seemed
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touchable. I willed myself to not break down. “You’re afraid of me.”

“N-no, I’m not,” I denied, trying to stop shaking. I forced a smile and bravely placed my hands on top of his. “I’m here. I’m ready.”

“Hold on,” he commanded, standing, grabbing the chains. My hands automatically grabbed the heavy silver chains as he stood and pulled the swing toward him. His smile, suddenly brilliant and inviting, put me even more off balance than his quick movements. My grasp tightened as I realized his full intent, the same time he released the swing, sending me airborne. A small scream escaped my lips, making him laugh. I was swinging, backward then forward into him. He pushed me again. And again. Until I sailed as high as I possibly could.

Sailing into him, away from him, I could feel the connection of energy that seemed so overwhelming when we were still, looking into each other’s eyes. Flying through the air, the connection pulsed and it was like the moment was predestined. I was meant to find this man and, just that easily, I wasn’t terrified of him anymore. A giggle bubbled up from inside me. It had been a long time since I’d felt the rise and fall of swinging, a long time since I’d felt free.

“I don’t think you’re ready for the darkness that is to come.” His eyes were deadly as he pushed me higher and higher, his face twisted sternly. “I don’t think you are ready for me. Physically, you would not survive being my slave, and I pray you don’t think I exaggerate.”

“I am so ready for you Lord Fyre, you have no idea,” I bragged, laughing.

“You’ve starved yourself. Physically, you’re a disaster—and emotionally…”

“Are you reneging?” I challenged, amusement making my voice light.

“No,” he answered, tilting his head, his mouth twisted between devilish smirk and worried frown. “I just hope you live to regret this.”

Broadening my smile until it hurt, I winked at him boldly, giggling and pointing my toes into the blue of the sky. I felt good looking at that sky, empowered, though technically I’d just given myself away.

The heavy chain framed the sky and, for just a moment, my mind transported me back in time. As a little girl, I would fly and pretend. I was an astronaut returning to earth and, in truth, the sky looked as the earth must look from space. Patches of blue shrouded in atmosphere.

“Close your eyes.”

I obeyed without question, the bright sky searing red behind my closed lids. My stomach lurched as I felt him push me higher than before.

“Lean back and point your toes, like you did when you were enjoying this a moment ago.”

I leaned back, arching my neck, feeling myself soaring higher and higher, my fingers gripping hard into the chain.

“Feel the fall,” he commanded. “Feel the pull of the rise.”

I felt them both, becoming the fall and the pull.

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“It's mind numbing, isn't it?”

“Yes,” I screamed happily, his statement echoing my thoughts.

“Keep your eyes closed tight and just feel.”

I felt the surge as he pushed me to the limit of the chains. For the first time I felt fear, not of the man, of the swing, of my own frailty as a human being, imagining the broken heap of my bones if I fell. Arms aching, hands tingling, I saw my fingers mottled white, I was holding so tightly to the chain. I wanted him to stop me but I didn’t ask.

“Trust me,” he commanded. “Relax.”

I obeyed and instantaneously the rise and fall consumed me, becoming mind-numbing once more. Rising, falling. I no longer knew which way was sky, which way was ground, a drunken sensation that wasn’t all bad.

Just as I was relaxed, flying, my mind no longer on planet earth, he jerked the swing to a stop with a hard thud, and suddenly my ass was pressed against his chest, my legs dangling. His harsh whisper ground the truth into my brain. “That is the way it would be with me as your Master. You won't be in control of your rise, you won't be in control of your fall. You will not know which way is up, or down.

You will not be able to come up with a clear thought, your mind will become so numb.”

Panicking, I tried to sit up, away from him, though I was high off the ground. His arm tightened around my waist, his breath becoming a warm presence against my bared lower back. The hand not supporting my weight ran along the inside of my bare thigh, stroking skin with an expert skill that was like jolts of electricity. His fingers traced higher, finding the lace edge of my panties, pushing beneath to find the wetness hidden behind the flimsy cloth.

“Such a little slut,” he whispered. My entire body stiffened and that was before he whispered ever so softly, “Sophia.”

Sophia.
I froze, stiller than still, barely breathing. Only my mother had ever called me that. How could Lord Fyre know such a detail?

His fingers retreated, returning to the inside of my thigh. “That was your birth name, yes? Sophia Jane Marie Alexander. Your mother was originally Cecilia DuLaurent, shortening it to Celia when she immigrated, born Catholic, refused to recant. It was a secret your father’s flock would never know. He was ashamed of himself for not being able to save her, and for loving her anyway.

“You can’t possibly know that!” I cried out, but he ignored me.

“She named you what she wanted to name you, filling out the information for the birth certificate while your father was out of the room. It was a fight, a constant fight in your home, that she not call you Sophia until you were alone with her, and then in private, she could call you by the name she chose for you.”

“How could you possibly know?” I gasped.

“I know everything there is to know about you,
Sophia
.”

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“Don’t call me that,” I growled.

With a push of the swing, he released me. Set me free. He walked away, leaving me flying through the air. Too late, I realized how badly I totally fucked up. Such a little thing, my name, and he was walking away because I…
I didn’t submit to him fully.