Under My Skin – Part 07

“I just wanted to kiss you…and I wanted to talk to you, and find out about you. Well, you know the rest. The rest is a fucking mess.” His shoulders slumped as he walked away from me, his hands gripped, white-knuckled, behind his neck.

As he talked, the heat flooded, stronger and hotter, up through my whole body. Oh god…I’d had it so wrong. How could I have been so wrong?

“Why do you think I made you wear the damned blindfold?” he groaned. I didn’t have an answer, and could only close my eyes, remembering how it felt. When I opened them again his arms were braced either side of me on the wall, his lips millimetres from mine. His eyes flicked up to mine and held them, steadily.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you ever since I first saw you,” he admitted, his voice a low rumble in his chest. “But I sure as hell didn’t want to care.” He smoothed my eyebrow with his thumb. “You and your big brown eyes…were a considerable danger to me. I actually thought if I didn’t look into those eyes, I could keep some distance, you know.” That sardonic half-laugh again. “You managed it anyway. Blind as a new-born kitten and you managed to crawl your way in and make me fucking care.” With every few words he brushed his lips against mine, excruciatingly gentle, devastatingly soft.

Every nerve in my body was finely tuned to the slow assault on my lips. Every fibre of my being focussing on the imminent danger he posed to my heart with each word. Was he for real? Was he for fucking real? And with every word the wanting…the needing built in me until I was breathless, radiating with the heat of his words and the dangerous desire to fall and fall into the world he spun with every touch of his lips. My hands found their way up his bare chest, smoothing over his hot skin and up around his neck, plunging my fingers into his hair, desperate for the kisses to never, ever stop.

I felt, rather than heard the groan that rumbled up from his chest as he trapped me more firmly against the wall, his arousal most definitely matching mine as I felt it grinding into my hip. His kiss changed in an instant, his lips suddenly devouring mine, his tongue taking my mouth by storm, as if trying desperately to know every thought, every secret.

I clung to him, my hips arching up to his, the need like a fever taking me over. I moaned when his hand slid up my thigh, searching under my skirt, pushing it up to my hips, then, finding its prize, dragging my panties down my legs in urgent, jerky movements. Oh god…fuck. Yes…please…

His mouth didn’t leave mine for a second, punishing me with his lips as he frantically raked his fingers at the button on his trousers, freeing himself. Oh fucking lord.

Already pinned to the wall by his body, I was dragged upwards, my toes barely touching the floor, my legs guided around his hips as he pushed into me with one violent thrust.

I’m not a religious person, but if sensations like that exist in the world, I am now more than certain there must be a God. Could anything feel so deep…so wild and satisfying? He just held me there, unmoving, before slowly starting to push into me with ever-increasing force. So this…this was what it felt like to be truly fucked…was my last conscious thought.

His mouth never left mine, his tongue invading my mouth just as his cock drove into me. I could only whimper and accept him in, absorbing the force of his assault, drawing him into myself.

When he slowed, groaning, I protested wildly. But he stopped, just held me against the wall and buried his face in my neck. I thought I felt his teeth scrape against my skin, but no bite came. When he let me slide down the hard planes of his body I could have cried. Why were we stopping? A wailing ‘No’ filled my mind as he created space between our bodies. Had I failed to please him again?

“I’m sorry…sorry…” he panted, his face still resting against my neck. “I couldn’t stop-”

Yes you did stop, my mind screamed, my body in full protest at the removal of some of the most earthshattering pleasure I’d ever known. I arched towards him, whimpering, desperate.

“I know, I know, pet…but we need to use protection…”

Oh fucking HELL. Now was not the time to be a gentleman! But relief and his concern touched me, and I found myself smiling like a giddy teenager. “What do you mean?” I asked, teasing, breathless. “You don’t want our lovechild?”

I watched, fascinated, as something inexplicable flickered through the expression in his eyes. No…no, I wouldn’t examine that too closely, I warned myself, as a startling thought hit me low in the stomach.

I didn’t have much time for thinking as I was frog-marched towards the bedroom, his fingers on my buttons and zippers and hooks, steadily stripping me naked before tossing me unceremoniously on the bed. I just lay back, watching through lowered eyelids as he shed his trousers and carefully unrolled a condom along the length of his erection. I had no idea contraception could be so damned hot.

As he approached the bed, a flutter of nerves assaulted me at the sheer intensity of his expression. He loomed over me, trapping me with his arms and legs, just looking down at me, his gaze trailing over my naked breasts and down to the dark hair down below. I was already soaked through from before, but this sparked a whole new flood of wetness between my legs. God, he was beautiful.

When he lowered his head, I lifted my lips for his kiss, but his mouth found my breast instead, sucking my nipple deep into his mouth until I nearly wailed with the sensation of it. Just when I thought he would let up, his teeth scraped against the hard nub and he bit down, hard. My whole body came up off the bed. He let go, only to trail kisses, his lips, his tongue, all the way over to do the same with my other breast until I was whining and panting. If he hadn’t been holding my arms down I would have been pummelling him with my fists for inflicting such sweet torture.

Abandoning my breasts, he left a trail of nibbling kisses up my neck, teasing me with his teeth, nipping lightly at the place where he first bit me. That seemed so very long ago now…an eternity. Could that really have been how this all started?

He must have been thinking along similar lines. “I’ve never bitten anyone else, you know,” he growled into my ear. “I just needed to taste you…feel you. To know you’d be thinking about me every day.” He pulled back and looked down at me. “You did think about me every day, didn’t you?”

I groaned, arching up against him in frustration, wanting him touching me, wanting him back inside me. And he wanted to have a conversation?

“What?” he asked, his tone infuriating, playful. “Are you wanting something…?”


“What’s that then?”

“You know exactly what!” I struggled against him, completely helpless.

“This?” he asked, nibbling on my neck threateningly.


“Tell me…”

“Please Jarod…”

“Please what?”

Bloody arrogant bastard. I’d have to say it or he would never relent.

“Please…fuck me.” I whispered, desperate.

He pressed his cock against my stomach, hot and hard and lovely. “You want this, hm?” he taunted.

I nodded, cursing him, confounded again by the way he could be such an arrogant asshole, but turn around and say things so sweet you just wanted to cry.

He wasn’t joking though, when he kissed me, his tongue making short work of my defences, whipping my need back into a frenzy. When he broke it off and I whimpered in protest, he took my chin firmly in his hand.

“No complaints, just do as I say.”

I nodded, drawn into the wicked gleam in his eye.

He sat back on his haunches, releasing me, and grabbed the pillows from the head of the bed. “Turn over,” he grunted, grabbing me and flipping me onto my stomach before I could even protest. “Up on your knees,” he said, giving me the pillows to put under my upper body. Was this what I thought it was…? My legs trembled at the thought of him on top of me, pressing me down. Every frustrated sex dream I’d ever had pricked up their ears at the thought.

He moved behind me on the bed, his knees roughly pushing mine further apart, my back arching as I struggled not to collapse under the pressure of his hands on my shoulders. I could feel the heat of him between my legs, his erection brushing against me, tantalising, excruciatingly close. I buried my face in the pillows with a moan.

His hands found and grasped my wrists, twisting my arms behind me until I squealed with the burning pain of it, all my weight on my trembling knees and the pillows that propped me up. He rocked me back towards him, the tension bowing my back, his grip on my wrists tightening. Exposed and restrained, I was completely and utterly at his mercy. I’d never been so aroused in my entire life.

All his earlier urgency when he’d pinned me to the hallway wall seemed to have disappeared, his movements leisurely, infuriatingly slow. He never let go of my wrists, shifting his grip between his hands as he took advantage of my helpless position, running his hand over my breasts, smoothing along the arched curve of my spine. With every touch I felt his growing possessiveness of my body. It gave me a strange thrill, one I was in no state to give much thought.

When he began to stroke his erection along the wetness between my legs, I definitely stopped thinking all together. He made me wait and wait, when all I wanted was him inside me. He knew exactly what he was doing, the bastard, my hips arching towards him, begging him to just do something other than torment me. But he just kept rubbing against me until he began bumping against my clit, slippery and hot, sending shocks through my whole body.

Tightening his grip on my wrists he smoothed his hand around to my stomach, bracing himself before pushing against me with the tip of his erection, slowly, slowly penetrating me before pulling out again. I wailed. I cried, I writhed against him, but he just did it again, pushing into me with excruciating slowness and insistent pressure, just as slowly dragging back out again. When I had finally stopped fighting and was just sobbing with need into the pillow, he took my wrists in both hands and plunged in, one stroke, deep and hard. I screamed into the pillow and thought for a moment I’d actually pass out, the sensation of it so overwhelming.

The rest was a blur. The repeated pleasure of him filling me, his body pounding against mine with such force I thought I would break. Just when I thought I could handle no more, he shifted my wrists into one hand and slid his free hand around my hip, slipping his fingers deep into the wet folds at my centre. All could do was whimper into the pillow as he swirled his fingers over my clit again and again until everything turned into white heat and I was coming, spasming around his thrusting shaft, mindless with pleasure. Not so mindless that I didn’t hear the sounds he made as he pushed deep, deep inside me, pulling me back against him with a vice-like grip, releasing my hands to grasp at my hips, covering my body with his, trembling against me. I felt the sharp pain on my shoulder, the heat of his breath on my skin as his teeth sunk into my skin.

The world took some time to stop spinning. Closed eyes worked best it seemed. After collapsing on top of me, he’d rolled away, dragging me with him, draping me across his chest. I lay, listening to the gradual slowing of his racing heartbeat. It was a hypnotic sound, and some fuzzy part of my mind thought that I dared not move in case it would stop if I wasn’t there to listen to it.

He shifted under me slightly, freeing his arm, his fingers finding their way into my hair. He tugged, pulling my face closer to his, and I reluctantly left my vigil, leaving my fingers to feel the steady rhythm. His eyes searched for mine, heavy-lidded and dark. I reached up a finger to trace the curve of his bottom lip. I suspected, but I had to know.

“Jarod…can I ask…” for some inexplicable reason I found myself blushing furiously. “Did you…you know…” After all this I was still a prude? I tried to pull myself together but he came to my rescue.

“You mean…did I come?” he said, his voice rumbling in his chest, vibrating against my body deliciously. I nodded, struggling to look him in the eye. Was he chuckling? Bastard! I slapped at his chest weakly, but it only made him laugh harder.

He placed a soft kiss on my forehead and relented. “How could I not when your sweet little cunt was squeezing me half to death?” he asked, earning another slap from me. But I was smiling. And so was he.

“Huh…you look like a cat with cream,” he muttered, raising an eyebrow.

I traced a slow finger over the hairs on his chest and nodded.

He hooked a finger under my chin until I was forced to look him in the eye. “For all your bratishness, I think you do like to please me,” he said, contemplatively.

Curled up against his chest I wasn’t about to deny it.

The End

Under My Skin – Part 06

“Do you know what I did with your little photos?” he asked, his voice mockingly conversational.

Oh god. What came next? Was he going to tell me he’d posted them online for other pervs to wank to? Or for the guys at work to laugh at on pub night? Behind my blindfold I screwed my eyes up, trying to block the mental images that began to flash up at the thought.

When I didn’t answer, he continued. “I looked at them. Every day in fact. Looking at them…asking myself what the fuck I was thinking. What the fuck I was doing, dragging you into my fucked up world.” I heard him moving around restlessly.

“I bet you thought I was wanking off to them, didn’t you?” He let out a cynical half-laugh tinged with something close to incredulity. “Nope…I just sat there, staring at them night after night, paralysed to do anything at all.”

I was attempting to absorb this confession when I felt the heat of his body near me, his breath on my cheek. I steeled myself, determined not to flinch, even when his thumb brushed roughly along my lower lip.

“Remember this?” he growled in my ear. “You want to know what I want? You really want to know?” He pressed his thumb steadily against my lips until they parted and I was forced to take him into my mouth. “I want that cute little mouth of yours on my cock.”

Suffice it to say I was no longer feeling cold, and when I moaned softly he pulled his thumb out of my mouth and grabbed my arm, dragging me back towards the bed.

He let go of me, and I lost track of where he was. My knees were bumping against the edge of the bed, so I felt out with my hands, finding his ankle in the bedclothes, searching for a clear place to kneel. I desperately longed to rip the blindfold off instead of feeling around in the dark like a fool, but I resisted the urge. My hands found his legs and I crawled tentatively towards him, his words still echoing in my mind.

My hands felt their way up his legs and I tried not to be distracted by the feel of the muscles flexed taut beneath my fingers. The nerves hit my stomach as I reached his hips and the reality of the task I’d been given. I debated telling him I was no good at this. That I’d just disappoint him or I’d do something wrong or…or…

His hand grabbed the back of my head and pulled me closer, fingers tangling in my hair, stifling my internal debate. Against my cheek burned the heat of his full-on erection. His skin was hot and silky against mine. To my surprise, any trace of the foul spermicide from the condom seemed to be gone. Was that why he’d gone and washed himself? The conflicting gestures continued to confuse the hell out of me. Was this the source of the battle I always sensed going on in him, between the gentleman and the arrogant prick?

“Go on…” he growled, ending my contemplation.

I raised a tentative hand and grasped him, drawing in breath as I got to feel him properly for the first time. Fuck…he was huge. It pulsed in my hand like an animal, twitching slightly if I put my fingers anywhere sensitive. I’d never been a big fan of handling guy’s dicks, but his was, well…beautiful. I tightened my grip, pleased to feel the muscles in his legs tense slightly as I increased the pressure. I sighed softly, beginning to relish my assignment for the first time.

I’d never before had any desire at all to suck a man’s cock, but something just bloomed in my chest as I touched him. Protectiveness? Some sort of strange, deep wanting to give (could I say it…call it that?) love…to that intimate part of him.

Without any conscious decision, my mouth found the base of his erection and began to lick and suck, my tongue pressing against each ridge and vein, exploring and soothing in turn. His strangled groans only spurred me on as I made my way up to the tip, swirling my tongue as I devoured him with my lips. He was just so hard, but so soft and smooth, so responsive to my touch. Every other conscious thought slipped from my mind, and all that remained was my passionate need to bring him pleasure.

There was no way I could take him entirely in my mouth, but I tried anyway, nearly gagging when I took him deeper. Whenever I did, he swore. A lot. My hands were hungry for the feel of him and wandered along his hips and over the tautness of his stomach, noting every response to my lips and tongue.

After that it was like everything melded together…my mouth and his body to the exclusion of everything but the pinpoint focus of the sensations I was sharing with him. With every movement and breath I could feel his pleasure building, rising up in a sort of radiating excitement that was filling my whole body. As if I were feeling everything he felt and I had complete control of it as it built and built, winding tighter and tighter. I could feel his groans rumbling through his body, his hands tangling in my hair, urging me on. His hips flexed off the bed, arching into me, pushing his cock deeper into my mouth, thrusting more and more erratically. With no eyes to see I only had the sensation, the salty taste of him, the heady, musky scent of his sex. I knew he was close, I could feel him losing himself, his steely control faltering and finally dropping away. He was completely at my mercy, in my charge. I held the most essential core of his manhood firmly in my grasp and coaxed him, groaning and fighting to the edge of climax. I’ll never forget the sounds that he made as I took him over the edge. Cries of relief, release. As he came in my mouth I drank deep, and deep again, taking it all, kissing and licking and soothing him as he came back down, slowly…slowly, my eyes inexplicably filled with tears.

His hands on my shoulders, pulling urgently at my arms, guiding me up his body until I lay with my cheek pressed to his shoulder, his arms wrapped tight around my shaking body.

How long we lay together, I don’t know. The pounding rush of blood in my ears slowly quietened, the near-hypnotic state I’d been in gradually easing and bringing me back to conscious thought.

I became aware of his fingers, gently stroking my hair. A strange tug, and cool air rushed over my eyelids. He’d taken off the blindfold. The thought went through me like a shock. I’d been without sight so long I didn’t even know if I was able to open my eyes. I felt his breath on my face and then the gentle brush of his lips against each eye. Oh god…how good that felt.

“It’s okay…you can open your eyes,” he said, with a softness I felt right through my body.

I had to blink a few times, my vision blurred and confused, unused to even the low light in the room. As I opened my eyes fully I found myself staring up into the depths of his steely-grey gaze, and forgot how to breathe. He was a rather beautiful man…for being an arrogant prick. But as I studied him, my eyes scanning his face, I could sense a change. Antagonism had been replaced with…possessiveness. It was as if he was trying to devour me with his eyes. I could feel myself begin to blush at the sheer intensity of his scrutiny.

His eyes dipped, and I realised he was staring at my mouth. I raised a quick hand to cover my lips, suddenly horrified at the thought that I was probably a mess. Just as quickly, he snagged my hand and pulled it away.

“You’re fine,” he muttered softy, his eyes flicking briefly up to mine before focussing once more on my lips. “I want to kiss you.”

His words hit me like a blow to the stomach. All this, and we’d never kissed. Until his lips softly brushed against mine I hadn’t understood. Until he pressed his mouth to mine and darted his wicked tongue into my mouth I hadn’t known. Kissing him…him kissing me…was the most intimate thing I’d ever felt. It reached something in me that I didn’t know could be reached by someone else. It was like an instant high, just one touch of his lips and the insatiable need filled me to have his mouth on mine and never, never…never stop.

Mad, passionate, punishing and deep, the real addiction had arrived as we drank each other in, desperate for more and more.

* * * * *

Apparently you can kiss someone for several hours, and still not be bored of it. Considering we’d done pretty much everything else before we got to that point, perhaps it was because there was nothing else left to do. Well…not…nothing.

It’s hard to explain. It sort of comes and goes in waves of intensity. You think you’re nearly done, then the devouring need comes back over you and you’re all tangled up in it again, tongues twining, fingers in hair, toes curling. Particularly when the person you’re kissing is Jarod, and he’s somehow invented a repertoire of kisses you didn’t even know existed. And instead of being his unique brand of arrogant bastard, he’s kissing you with such devastating gentleness that you just want to weep.

It had to be late by the time my brain surfaced enough to ask some basic questions. Like…where on earth were we? I reluctantly dragged my lips away from his so I could look around. He lay there, watching me scan the room.


“My room.”

“Yours?” So it wasn’t a hotel! He’d brought me to his place? That was sort of shockingly…personal of him. I took another minute to look around, though with the lights low it was hard to see very much. It was sparsely, though comfortably, furnished. He seemed to like natural textures in muted greys and browns. I searched, fruitlessly, for signs of anything more personal. He wasn’t the sort of man who gave away much, but I already knew that.

At some point I’d gotten cold and he’d pulled the bedclothes over us. I rubbed my hand over the crisp fabric. The sheets were expensive (big surprise), smooth and soft, smelling faintly of laundry soap. I caught myself wondering if he did his own laundry or if someone else did it for him. And if he’d just happened to have pristinely laundered sheets, or if he’d prepared that far ahead for tonight. Had he fully expected me to fall into his bed that easily? I wasn’t sure whether to feel offended that he thought I was such an easy touch (I was) or complimented at his thoughtfulness. I still got the occasional hot flush when it occurred to me that we were totally and utterly naked. I mean…this was Jarod. My personal office tormentor. Naked. I was still getting used to actually being able to look at him after spending so much time blind. It was okay when we were kissing…I found I closed my eyes most of the time. I wasn’t sure I could really handle locking eyes with him after everything that had gone on between us, and I had to fight against a nearly overwhelming shyness.

Whatever it was that had happened between us seemed to have relaxed him considerably. That being said, I couldn’t ignore the feeling that the wild animal still paced, restless behind those eyes. Watching him now, I still sensed a reserve, a wariness…a withholding of himself. My insecurities flared up, and I stupidly opened my mouth.

“Do you bring all your blindfolded girls in here?” The question popped out before I’d really had a chance to run it past my brain’s censorship committee. Damn.

Something flickered in his eyes. Not disappointment, surely. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and swung his legs over the side of the bed, leaving me to stare at a rather breath-taking display of broad, muscular shoulders tapering to slim hips. The sort of hips you like to wrap your legs around and-…

“Get up.” There it was. The ‘this is not a negotiation’ edge in his voice. Shit.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“I said get up!” he snapped.

I scrambled to my feet, the floor cool under my bare feet, and stood watching helplessly as he pulled on his trousers in a few quick, jerky movements. Buttoning them, he stalked from the room, leaving me to stare after him. Okay, so what I’d said wasn’t particularly tasteful, but I’d sort of been joking…surely he could have picked up on that?

He appeared at the doorway, stepping only far enough into the room to toss my clothes on the bed.

“Jarod, I-”

“Get dressed.” He said through gritted teeth, and disappeared into the hall.

Fuck. FUCK. I ran my hands through my mussed-up hair, wracking my brain for anything I could do to put things right. Hadn’t we just been lying there a minute ago, close as any lovers would be? Did that make this a lovers’ quarrel? I really didn’t care to find out…

I emerged from his bedroom, dressed, still trying to smooth my hair. It felt very strange to walk through a hallway I hadn’t seen on my way in, only to spot my shoes where I’d left them when I stripped naked for him, barely a metre from his front door. I turned and took in the floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room, and the glimmering lights in the darkness beyond. So I’d stripped within full view of the entire city? Wonderful. I hope I got a lot of hits on YouTube.

I heard the bang of a cupboard door being slammed in the general vicinity of the small galley kitchen and then running water. I eyed the front door. My handbag was right on the floor where I left it, next to my shoes. I had enough money on me for a cab…or maybe I could figure out the bus route once I got outside. I had no idea where I was, but I could figure it out. I just needed to clear my head. Get some air.

Decision made, I stepped into my shoes, shouldered my bag and grabbed for the front door handle, pushing out into the hallway and walking as fast as I could in the direction of the lifts.

Game or no game, kiss or no kiss, I wasn’t about to stay anywhere I wasn’t wanted. I pushed at the lift button impatiently, begging it to hurry up. Any second now he’d realise I was gone and…what? He’d probably be relieved. I punched at the button again with my finger. The building seemed new…why did the lift have to take so damned long? I fumbled in my bag for my sunglasses with shaking hands. So what if I’d look like an idiot wearing them in the dark of night? I didn’t want anyone to see the stinging tears I’d been fighting ever since he tossed me my clothes as if I was some…some…floozy he’d paid for her services. I blinked furiously, my chin lifting stubbornly. I was a big girl, and I could live with making big girl mistakes.

Maybe it was his bare feet that let him move silently, but I didn’t hear his approach until the last second, and by that time my arm was twisted sharply behind me and I was turned with some force to face him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” his voice full of what I could only say was rage. I flinched back from him, turning away from whatever blazed in those steely eyes of his. It created a heat in me I couldn’t bear, and I jerked back from it as if from an open flame.

I nearly stumbled as he pushed me backwards until I knocked into the marble pillar between the sets of lifts, his fingers digging painfully into the flesh of my upper arms.

“Did I ask you to leave? Did I?” he hissed, looming over me, his face level with mine.

I set my teeth and stared back at him through my sunglasses, defiant. What right did he have to say if I stayed or if I went? My chin lifted a notch. Which was a mistake.

My sunglasses were ripped off my face and tossed away in a single movement, and I was helpless to resist the force of his accusatory gaze. Some detached part of me watched, as if from a distance, as he pressed me again to the cold hard surface at my back. A soft ding sounded next to my ear, followed by the metallic scraping of the elevator doors opening. I could only hold my breath, imagining the faces of the lift’s occupants, eyes wide as saucers at the sight of a crazed, half-naked man pinning me to the wall. I blinked, and the doors slid closed again with a soft thud.

I had to follow my arm as it was dragged in an iron grip at a ridiculous pace back down the corridor towards his flat. I could hear him cursing and muttering under his breath the whole way. He thrust me ahead of him through the door and slammed it closed behind us. I just stood there. I could hear him behind me, braced against the front door, his breath coming in sharp gasps. I closed my eyes. I needed the unreality. I needed for this not to be happening.

He didn’t hit me. He didn’t touch me. He didn’t do anything at all, which was probably worse. He just walked past me into the living room. I heard the creak of leather as he sank into one of the chairs, then silence.

We must have stayed that way for at least ten minutes, our breathing the only other sound in the room. I kept my eyes firmly closed, arguing my way through everything. Justifying everything. Defending everything. It all added up to…nothing. I’d made the wrong choice. Running away never led to anything good.

“I-” my voice choked in my throat. I cleared it and tried again. “I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have left…”

The silence expanded around me and I strained to hear any reaction from him. When it came, it was an explosion.

“You’re sorry? You’re fucking sorry? So that makes it all right then?” I could hear him pacing the floor in the living room, agitated, his voice shaking with anger.

What else could I say? “I’m sorry Jarod…”

When he spoke again he was much nearer, his voice a slow snarl. “And where did you think you’d go? Just go out in the dark and walk home?”

“I was going to get a cab,” I muttered lamely.

“You don’t even know where you are,” he retorted. “There aren’t any cabs for miles, or buses for that matter.”

“Well, I didn’t know that,” I said, defensive.

“And you certainly didn’t ask!” Was that hurt I heard in his voice? Was I imagining things?

“I told you…I’m sorry, okay?”

More pacing. I kept my eyes clenched shut, my defences steadily crumbling.

“Why? Why did you leave?”

My mind raced back over the last seconds before I’d made my escape. Why had I?

“You told me to get dressed, and you seemed angry…I thought you wanted me to leave,” I said miserably.

I waited in silence as he weighed my answer. It wasn’t the right one. His hand suddenly at my throat, shoving me into the wall, holding me there, pressing me back, his breath warm on my ear, his voice deadly and close.

“You promised…not…to lie.”

“I’m not, I swear!”


I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly full of tears at the truth he forced me to face. And I had promised.

“I felt…I don’t know…rejected. I said something stupid and you were so angry with me and I just wanted to escape, okay? I thought you didn’t…didn’t want me.” The tears were now threatening to spill down my cheeks.

“Did I say I was angry at you? Did I?” he growled, shaking me.

“No…no…” I sobbed.

“Open your eyes…” he said, voice low. When I didn’t, he shook me again. “Now!”

I opened my eyes straight into his fierce silver ones. The naked emotion I saw there stopped my breath. I could only stare, drinking in what I saw there. It was then that I knew that we weren’t playing a game anymore. Maybe it never had been a game.

When he finally spoke, his voice sounded rough, hoarse, his eyes sliding away from mine. “I don’t have…girls…up here. Blindfolded or otherwise. Okay?” His eyes returned to mine with burning force. “I haven’t been with anyone…for…years.”

Stunned, I could only watch as he continued to speak. He pushed away from the wall, leaving me standing there, shaking. He began to pace again, running his fingers through his hair distractedly.

“It’s my fault…I guess I can’t blame you. This whole thing started out wrong, right from that first day in the office. I started us out all wrong. But what did you want me to do?” He turned to face me, beseeching. “You just sat there…at your computer every damned day, your big eyes following me every time I walked down the office. And smelled…like flowers. And your mouth…” he stepped closer, reaching out his fingers to my lips, but dropped his hand to his side without touching me.

Under My Skin – Part 05

Fuck it, I thought. It’s nothing he hasn’t already seen before, right? I slipped the flimsy garment down my legs and stepped out from the puddle of discarded clothes, wearing nothing but a blindfold and my wavering dignity. As I moved, I could feel a wetness between my legs that bordered on embarrassing. Standing there, naked in front of him, was the most arousing thing I’d ever felt. I stared out into my own personal world of blackness and waited.

I sensed him move around me, and that lovely clean scent of him now came from somewhere in front of me. His hands grasped my arms at the elbows before sliding slowly down, pinning my hands together behind me. My back arched involuntarily and I bit back a moan as my nipples came into contact with his chest. His bare chest. God, his skin was so hot. I jumped back from him as if he’d scalded me, the ache between my legs switching up to a whining hum of wanting in an instant. Oh fuck…was he naked too?

The suit trouser-clad knee that he wedged between mine was a quick answer to that. He pushed me, slowly backing me up until I felt the hard chill of a wall against my bottom. The grip on my wrists switched, and they were hauled upwards and pressed against the wall at shoulder height. My hips lifted towards his body of their own volition, but he pulled away. His voice in my ear was low but sharp as a knife.

“Stay still.”

I froze, forgetting for a few seconds even to breathe.

“Tell me…are you wet?” This time I could imagine the little snarl in his lip.

I nodded, not trusting my voice. He only had to look down to see the shine of moisture on my thighs. So he wasn’t going to play nice, was that it?

“Did you think I was going to fuck you tonight?”

The words stung like a slap, and in the same way gave me a strange thrill. I fought through the haze in my brain for an answer, wondering if he had planned to be this cruel.

“Maybe…I don’t know-” I stammered.

“How many guys have you been with…fucked…?” This last word was swiftly punctuated by a sharp bite of his teeth on my over-sensitised nipple.

I cried out, more from surprise than pain, though it did hurt, and continued to throb. Then I remembered the question. Oh god. Wasn’t the test enough? Did he need an entire life history from me? I hesitated too long, and my other nipple felt the sting of his teeth and I squealed again.

“I don’t know…two…three maybe?” I whimpered.

“You don’t know?” He sounded incredulous.

My mind raced back over my various relationships, mostly lousy or at very least, boring. “I don’t really know what…counts,” I muttered lamely.

“Okay,” he said, his voice taking on a patronising edge, “How many did you have full sexual intercourse with?”


“And lover number three?”

“We just did some things…it was in highschool…” I trailed off.

“What, you gave him a blowjob?” The pressure on my wrists increased as he leaned in and spoke into my ear.

“Maybe…” My wrists got a sharp nudge. “Yes…yes. Okay?”

I felt teeth scrape along the side of my neck, and I held my breath, waiting for the bite. It didn’t come.

“And the other boys…what did you do with them?”

I could hear the increasing roughness of his voice with every question. Did humiliating me turn him on? Was that his thing? Could I blame him when every word drove me even closer to the mad brink of a raging need I’d never known existed? The truth was I was fuelling this as surely as he was.

“We just did…missionary mostly,” I panted.

The teeth scraped along the side of my left breast, and I had to hold back a whimper as it sent sparks straight to my centre.

“Were they any good?” I could feel his breath on my chin. His face was right in front of mine. If I leaned forward, our lips would touch…

“They were fucking awful,” I gasped, desperately wishing he would just kiss me. No kiss came.

It was the truth. About the other guys. They’d all been pretty bad. If you could hear someone smile…I swore I did just then.

He released one of my wrists and brought my hand to his chest, pressing it there before letting it go. For a moment I didn’t dare move, but he didn’t do anything. His skin was blazing with heat. I could hardly believe I was actually touching him. I shifted my fingers against his skin experimentally. It was smooth and soft, with just a light flecking of straight, silky hairs. I fanned my fingers out across his chest, revelling in the feel of his muscles moving and bunching under his skin. I must have moaned softly out loud, because his chest soon shook with one of his arrogant chuckles.

Despite my noises of protest, my hand was plucked away from its explorations and pinned back against the wall. He wasn’t done, but I’d had my first reward.

“Did any of them make you come?” The low rumble of his voice vibrated through me as he gently took my nipple between his teeth and tugged.

Oh…fuck. I thought I might come right there, with that one touch. I hadn’t actually thought it was possible, but this wasn’t like anything I’d ever felt before, so who knows. He bit harder. I hadn’t answered.


“So you faked it,” he said triumphantly, moving to the other nipple and biting down hard.

It was like he was setting off fireworks that went down instead of up, straight to the aching wetness between my legs.

“Yes…” I panted.

His breath was on my neck again. When he spoke, his voice was low and deadly serious. “I don’t tolerate lying.”

Fucking hell, as if I would have to fake anything with him? He could practically breathe on me and I was ready to orgasm. Just the thought brought the twitch of a smile to my face.

In an instant my arms were hauled up over my head, stretched almost painfully.

“What, you think that’s funny?” he said in what could only be classed as a snarl.

“No! No…that’s not why…I would never lie to you.”

“You did once…why should I trust you?”

I didn’t have an answer to that.

Silence. All I could hear was his agitated breathing. He was really serious about this.

“Promise me. Total honesty.”


“Say it!”

“I promise…I will never lie to you.” I waited, holding my breath for the next barrage. Instead, the grip loosened on my wrists and he let them drop to my sides, tingling with numbness.

When he spoke again, it was close to my ear, and I could feel his arms near me, braced on the wall, brushing against my shoulders.

“When did you last come?”

I scrabbled through the haze in my brain for the answer. “Two nights ago…”

He seemed to ponder this. “What did you think about?”

That funny breathing thing started again, where there was only a little air to breathe, right at the top of my lungs. He’d have to have the truth, then.


“Me what?”

I could barely whisper it. “You…fucking me.”

He exhaled with a soft grunt, and I was suddenly flattened into the wall by his hips angled firmly against mine. I could only whimper as the hard ridge of his erection pressing insistently along my stomach. Through the increasing waves of need, I felt some ridiculous surge of pleasure in the knowledge that he was just as aroused as I was, and I smiled.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” he growled, and ground his hips against me again, the fabric of his trousers causing delicious friction against my bare skin.

“Yes…” I wasn’t allowed to lie, was I. That part of my brain…the part the deals with normal levels of inhibition and privacy…it was steadily taking a leave of absence.

“And does it compare? To your previous lovers?”

There it was. That infuriating arrogance in his voice. Was he seriously asking me to compare the size of his dick to that of my exes’? Though I had to admit…what I felt so far pressed against my hip was far superior to anything I’d previously experienced. I could play dumb and ask for a better feel, but I’d promised. No lying.


“Yes what?”

I felt his teeth nip lightly at the soft part of my earlobe before nuzzling lower on my neck, the sharp bite of his teeth an ever-present threat.

“Yes, you are…larger, if that’s what you mean,” I panted, thanking whatever deities had imparted him with the gift. I sure as hell wasn’t about to complain.

Was that a grunt of satisfaction? I felt him push away from the wall, leaving the front of my body cold in his absence. But I soon felt warm breath on my breast. My left nipple was between his teeth again, biting lightly, teasingly, but this time his tongue darted out and licked.

He wasn’t holding me up anymore, and when my knees buckled he practically had to catch me. When the lick turned to a fierce suckling he had to hold me, whimpering, up against the wall. His mouth was so hot, so wet. His tongue deadly and knowing. And then the bastard just stopped and walked away.

I gripped at the wall with my palms, trying not to slide bonelessly to the floor, desperately attempting to rein in the raging sensations he’d kicked off in my body. Fuck! This wasn’t fair…

“Stand up…straight!” he barked from feet away. His voice sounded rough and a little breathless. So he wasn’t so immune after all.

I mustered my dignity and pressed back against the wall, my chin high, my body throbbing.

He wasn’t walking so silently now. I could hear him pacing back in forth in front of me. He seemed agitated. His voice came from somewhere in front of me.

“Why did you let me bite you…?”

My mind was very muddled. I thought through his question methodically. Surely I knew the answer to it considering it was what I’d asked myself a million times before.

“I don’t know…” was the truthful answer.

“That’s it? You don’t know? You could have reported me…”

“I didn’t want to.” The real truth then, the truth he must already know or we wouldn’t be in this situation…me naked and blindfolded in some location I knew nothing about other than it smelled of furniture polish. “I liked it…” I whispered.

I heard sounds as if he was running his hands over his face.

“I’ve let this go too far…I should take you home…” came the strangled mutter.

Disappointment plummeted through me like a stone dropped into deep water. I clutched at something, anything. “Is that what you really want?”

I flinched as the flat of his hand hit the wall next to my head with a slap. I could feel his breath on my cheek.

“What the fuck do you know about what I want?”

“I don’t-”

“That’s right…you don’t.”

I gathered what nerve I had left and tried again. “I want to…I want to know.”

A growl rumbled up not far from my ear. “You do, do you…you really want to know.”

I nodded, mute.

The grip on my wrist was far from gentle, and I stumbled as he wrenched me away from the wall and dragged me behind him. My fumbling feet felt wood floor, tile, then carpet. My knees banged into the edge of a bed and with a shove I fell unceremoniously onto my stomach.

“Sit up.” Somewhere along the way his voice had gone hard, impenetrable. Was this a game anymore, or had I just pushed it over the line? I had a pretty good idea I was about to find out.

I could hear a belt buckle and the unzipping of his fly, the rustle of clothes. I pushed myself up and pulled my knees towards me protectively.

More rustling…was I fooling myself or did that sound like a condom wrapper? Oh god. Oh fuck…

The bed next to me dipped and he caught my wrists up in his grip again, pinning me back on the bed. A hard, naked knee wedged itself between mine, forcing my legs open.

“Now’s the time to say no…” said a breathless, snarling near my ear. “Last chance.”

I stared up into the blackness and sparking lights behind my eyelids. Time seemed to slow. Each breath took forever. Decision time, Steph.

Breathe in. Breathe out. “Don’t stop…” I whispered.

A growl as he gripped me under the arms and pushed me bodily further up the bed, following after me, his knees pushing between mine and the scathing heat of his erection brushing against my stomach. I must have whimpered because his hand clamped over my mouth. He braced himself, shifting lower, then pushed inside me with one hard thrust.

I screamed against his hand. Never had I imagined pleasure could be so intense. I couldn’t control anything and my body just arched against his wildly, frantically. Fuck. He was really inside me…fuckfuckfuck…

He released my mouth long enough to capture my hands and press them back against the bed. I practically had to bite my lip to stay silent. My mind was too busy wrestling with the fact that I was being fucked by a man I hadn’t even seen undressed. A man who hadn’t even kissed me. I started taking gulping breaths, wondering if this was what a panic attack felt like.

But he didn’t move. He just stayed there, braced above me. Deep…deep inside me. His skin was blazing hot. I could feel him breathing, and I just tried to match my own breaths to the rhythm, desperate to calm myself.

“Wrap your legs around me,” his voice low in my ear.

I did as I was told, for the first time conscious of the lean muscular hips and the taut stomach pressed against mine. The pressure of him inside me blocked out all logical thought. God, he felt good. And then he moved.

It started slow, and I think he was trying to be controlled, but after the first few thrusts it went totally out the window and something wild and vicious took him over. I wasn’t about to complain, all my tumbling thoughts fell away into the darkness behind my blindfold until all that was left to me was sensation. It was like having molten lava inside me and on top of me. I’d never felt so stretched or so filled. Every time he pushed inside it was as if he touched some thing in me even I hadn’t known was there and it took my breath away. It was violent and animal and swept me along on a tide so high and steep I was coming before I realised it was happening. It felt like everything in my body was spasming at once, like a flash of lightening knocking out all my senses.

I must have cried out at the shock and power of it, but he didn’t stop. Riding out the wave, I absorbed the impact of his fevered assault until he too slowed, and stopped. The only sounds were our heaving breaths. I could now finally appreciate the feel of his weight holding me down, inexorably joined as we were. The thought took some time to bubble up, but when it did it disturbed me. He hadn’t come. I had only been with a few guys before, but it was usually pretty obvious…and he hadn’t. There was something wrong with this picture.

He pulled out carefully, then rolled off me, cursing under his breath. I felt bereft. After the immense heat of his body I was suddenly freezing cold. Had I done something wrong? Was I not supposed to have come without asking? But I hadn’t known it upon me until it was…

“I’m sorry…” I offered, my voice wavering. Fuck. I was not going to cry.

Silence and the sounds of our breathing reigned for some time before he spoke. I didn’t like the undercurrent in his voice.

“Sorry for what?”

“You didn’t…I mean-”

“Didn’t come? That’s right. Congratulations. Have a medal for your keen observations skills.”

I was used to the edge of cruelty in him, but this was starting to hit some other level. There was hurt mixed into the vindictive tone in his voice which I couldn’t ignore.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“You? Who said this has anything to do with you? And what would you care? How do I know you’re not just another game-playing little who-”

That’s when I slapped him. In the dark of my forced blindness my hand found some solid part of him and gave him a blow that left my hand stinging.

Fuck no, I was not putting up with this. I knew he was just lashing out, but truth or no, lashing hurt.

“I am playing no game, and I sure as hell am not a whore…” I spat at him, my voice quivering with rage.

I felt him move, he was quick, and I was soon pinned under the heavy heat of his body, my arms stretched nearly painfully over my head, my legs pinned between his knees.

“Don’t you fucking dare raise your voice to me…” he growled. I could tell that he’d stopped himself. Stopped from calling me a few other choice names. I kept my mouth firmly shut.

“What is it with you women…you always want, want, want. You love the chase and as long as you get what you want it’s all fine. But what about what I want? When does that get considered?”

I lay there, stunned at this barrage. At the bitterness in his voice. Hadn’t this been what he wanted? I thought that was the whole point…

He shifted his weight onto one knee and I could feel he was about to get up. I wrestled against him, helpless to stop him.

“Jarod, don’t.” I pleaded.

He froze at the sound of his name. I’d never used it before.

“Wasn’t this…what you wanted?” I whispered, staring into the dark behind my eyelids, wishing I could just see his eyes…just for a second.

“What the fuck do you care?” in a low snarl.

“I care…”

“Why?” He gave a soft, harsh, half-laugh.

Good question. Why did I care? Where in this whole mad game had I begun to care? Shit.

“Do I have to have a reason? I just do, okay?” I knew my chin was thrust out in my stubborn look.

“Prove it.”


“Get off the bed.”

In one movement he released me and rolled away. Freed from his weight I just lay, numb, for a few seconds before reaching out with my hand for the edge of the bed. As soon as I sat up I got a horrible heady rush and had to take a few deep breaths to still the dizziness. Putting my feet on the ground seemed to help me find a level, and I wobbled to a standing position. I waited for the next instruction, trying to ignore the lingering throbbing between my legs.

“Walk to the wall.” His voice sounded more composed, but there was still an edge to it that I wasn’t about to fuck with.

I took a few tentative steps forward, my arms outstretched, feeling around blindly in the unknown space around me. After several paces my fingers finally touched cool plaster and I leaned against the wall, silently grateful for its stability.

“Stay there until I say otherwise,” came the curt command. So that was it? He wanted to see how long I could stand, shivering against a wall like a shamed child on the naughty step? I pushed down all my natural inclinations to rebel, intent on seeing this thing through. Whatever it was I had to prove, I would prove.

Time passed, but I had no idea how long he left me standing there. I could hear him move off the bed once he seemed satisfied that I wasn’t about to go anywhere. I heard doors opening and closing and water running. The bathroom maybe. I fought against the thought that he was somehow washing me off of him. That he couldn’t stand the traces of me on his skin. No, if he was so repulsed by me he wouldn’t have spent all this time and energy playing games with me. That’s what I told myself at least.

I was starting to get cold, and my feet were growing numb from standing in the same place for so long. I had no idea if he’d done his stealthy thing and was back in the room, so I didn’t dare move from my spot. I clenched my toes, attempting to get a little blood flow going. When he spoke from behind me, I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Turn around.”

I braced myself against the wall, heart pounding in my throat, and pivoted in slow steps, not trusting my feet or my balance. Once the wall was at my back I leaned into it again, my chin high. My hope that I’d get to move from my spot was soon dashed.

“Show me your bruise.” His voice seemed to be coming from the direction of the bed. Was he lying down again?

I turned my leg to show more of my inner thigh, and the colourful crescent marring my otherwise pale skin. There was no separation this time, between him and me and the mark he’d left. No phone camera, no text message. Just him lying there, studying my exposed body and the evidence of his handiwork. If I said it wasn’t turning me on, I would be lying. I didn’t know it was possibly to get more wet than I already was.