Breaking Skye Page 3

  “For you, Sir,” she whispered as she grabbed the slender chrome vibrator, covered it in lube and switched it on.

  She shivered as she touched the cool, lubed vibe to her ass. And as she pushed the tip in, she moaned, over and over.

  “Oh, God, yes. Yes, yes, yes.”

  She pushed the chrome vibrator into her ass and it slipped past the first ring of muscle easily. There was nothing but pleasure, sensation layered on sensation, as the small butt vibe and the larger vibe buried in her pussy shivered together.

  Her nipples burned. With pain, with an even deeper pleasure that melded with everything else happening in her body. Desire soared, crested, held her at that keen edge while she panted with it. It was just what she wanted, craved. Total sensation overload.

  She shoved the big vibrator deep into her pussy, and came, hard and sudden, her body jerking with a pleasure so intense it nearly hurt. Did hurt, because she needed so badly for it to be Adam inside her body. Bringing her pleasure. Bringing her pain.

  “Ah, God!”

  She collapsed on the bed, slipped the small vibe from her ass, let the big vibrator in her sex carry the remaining waves of her climax through her system. Before it was all over, she slipped one clamp off, cried out at the searing pain as sensation returned to her nipple, then removed the other, gasping, loving the pain. Loving that she felt ‘punished’ by it—for not waiting for Adam, perhaps. She didn’t know. It didn’t matter if it made sense.

  Finally she switched off the big vibrator and slipped it from her body. She was trembling, almost in shock from the sheer intensity of it. She pulled the quilt over herself, trying to catch her breath. Yet somehow, she still wasn’t sated.

  Apparently orgasm after orgasm couldn’t satisfy. No matter how many toys she used, it would never be enough. She’d known from the moment she’d seen him. She had to feel his touch. It had to be him. Nothing else would do. Nothing but his touch, and his absolute command.

  Had she really thought of him as ‘Sir’ while she was getting off? Was it possible so much could change so quickly? Or had she simply not recognized the depth of her desires until she met him?

  She didn’t like to think he could be right about that, struggled against admitting it, even to herself. Tomorrow night would certainly be illuminating. Beyond exciting. A little scary.

  But she was too worn out to think. Too tired to try to come again, despite the hungry wanting of her unsated pussy. And even with need burning so brightly in her system, her eyes closed.

  She was still thinking of Adam—the depth of his dusky blue gaze, his broad shoulders, his plush, generous mouth—when she drifted into sleep.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  She woke with that same need trembling like a drumbeat deep in her belly, but she resisted, wanting to save it all for him, to go to him with this almost unbearable desire. A sort of delicious torture. She loved the idea every bit as much as it confused her.

  Everything about her response to this man confused her. But what had she expected? She wasn’t so sure now.

  She got up and drew her robe on against the morning chill, made her bed, fluffed her pillows. And felt just as confused as ever.

  She huffed, sat on the edge of her bed, picked up the phone, and dialed her cousin’s number.

  “Hallo, cous!”

  Esme’s exaggerated English accent never failed to make her smile. She’d lived in the States with her father since they were in high school, ever since Esme’s mother—Skye’s aunt—had died, and she should have lost most of her accent by now.

  “Esme, are you working?”

  “Always. But what do you need?”

  “How do you know I need anything? I call you all the time.” She rolled a silky tassel from one of her throw pillows between her fingers.

  “Because you call me all the time. You sound different.”

  “I guess I’m…feeling different.” She paused, gathered her breath. “You remember when you told me about that online personals site, bondage.com?”

  “Sure. Do you need help writing an ad?” Esme asked.

  “I’ve already placed one.”

  “Great! Are you getting hit on by a bunch of old pervs?”

  “There’s been a bit of that.”

  “But?” her cousin asked, drawing the word out into two syllables.

  “But…I’ve also met someone. A Dom. And he’s the real thing.”

  Why did it feel so much more real saying it out loud?

  “Don’t tell me you’ve gone to his house without giving me his info or I may have to come over there and throttle you.”

  “No, of course not,” Skye insisted. “But I did meet him for coffee—and don’t worry—I paid to have a background check run on him before I went.”

  “And? You’re far too spare on details, sweets.” She could practically hear Esme pouting on the other end of the line.

  “He’s…dazzling. Handsome, smart. So dominant I swear it oozes out of his pores. He’s unlike any man I’ve ever met before. It’s really doing a number on my head. I’ve read all the books you made me get, been all over the websites you showed me. But none of my research, none of my conversations with you, really prepared me for…him. For my reaction to him. This man—his name is Adam Dunne—just stole my breath. And I’ve met plenty of handsome men in my life, so it’s not that. It’s a sort of magnified charisma. God, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.”

  “It’s connection, Skye. We’ve talked about the intensity of connection in the kink realm, remember?”

  “I remember. I just didn’t quite get it until now. Maybe I still don’t. We haven’t even really started anything yet—just some emails and the one meeting.”

  “If he’s the real thing,” Esme said, “and it sounds as if he is, then the mind-fuck begins the first time you talk. The connection begins then, as well.”

  Skye pushed her hair from her face. “So what do I do now?”

  “As far as I can tell you have two choices. You can either just go with it and see where things end up—and it could very well end with you tied to his bed being flogged, which is really quite lovely—or you can walk away. It all depends on how much you want this, and how afraid you are.”

  “Oh, I want it. Especially now.”

  “Then there’s your answer. I know it’s not that simple. Nothing ever is, especially when you step into this arena. I can only guide you so far before you simply get started—meet a Dom, have your first spanking, go to a club.”

  “Oh, we talked about that. He has a friend who works at some place called The Ring.”

  “I’ve been there. Loved it. But somehow I don’t think it’s quite for you.”

  “No. I don’t think the club scene is going to be for me at all.”

  “Do what works for you, Skye. And you don’t have to do this in a vacuum. I’m here if you need anything.”

  “Thanks, Esme. I appreciate it. I appreciate you talking to me about all of this. It’s not necessarily the ‘normal’ conversation one has with a family member.”

  “I’m not the ‘normal’ family member, am I?”

  “You know I adore you.”

  “And I adore you. Even more since I found out we really are birds of a kinky feather.”

  That made her smile. “I’m just…trying it out.”

  “We’ll see.” A phone rang in the background. “Ooh, sorry Skye, but I must get that. You alright?”

  “Yes, fine. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Send me his info!”

  “Of course.”

  They hung up. Skye felt a little reassured, if not less confused about the intensity of her response to Adam. But she was going to see him again—there was no question about it. In private this time, where all of the dark, depraved things they’d discussed, the things that had only ever lived in the most shadowed corners of her fantasies, were going to happen.

  She shivered as goose bumps crept over her skin, as her nipples peaked.

 
; There was only so much she was going to understand until she got there, just as Esme had said. She may as well walk in with a blindfold already in place. Come to think of it, Adam would probably like that.

  Come to think of it, she’d probably like it.

  She blew out a long breath and stood, deciding to take a long, leisurely bath. She needed desperately to relax. And while she was in there she could allow herself to take the edge off with her underwater vibrator.

  She could. But she wouldn’t. Because some part of her was enjoying this tortuous desire.

  God, she was in trouble.

  * * *

  Skye spent the rest of the day preparing, allowing herself to think of him in teasing tidbits, only a few moments at a time. It was all she could take.

  By the evening her entire body was throbbing as she laid out her clothes on her old iron bed, the outfit he had requested: a short, black skirt, a white button-down blouse, sheer, black, thigh-high stockings, high black pumps. Very Story of O. She was to wear nothing underneath, making her feel sexy, a little vulnerable, a lot wicked. And something else she wasn’t quite ready to admit to that was all about being submissive, following his orders.

  She’d skipped the bath and waited until evening to shower, careful not to give in to the need to slide her fingers over her aching sex, her swollen nipples, as she leaned against the cool, white tiles in the shower. The contrast of the hot water and the tiles at her back was a surprisingly erotic sensation, something she’d never really thought about before tonight. Before Adam. He had made her aware of these things, somehow. She got out and dried herself, rubbed scented lotion into her skin, every touch of her own hands an unexpectedly sensual experience.

  How much better would it be when she stood before him?

  She understood with a new depth that ‘sexual’ and ‘sensual’ were two different things—different sides of the same coins, perhaps. But nothing in her fairly vast sexual experience, not her forays into threesomes, not her impressive collection of sex toys, had prepared her for the minute details of sensation Adam had somehow caused her to be acutely aware of.

  Finally it was time to go, and she remembered just in time to forward all of Adam’s information to Esme before she called for a cab. The ride over to his house in the Noe Valley area of San Francisco seemed to take forever. When she arrived at his address she found it was one of the classic 1920’s stucco homes that were so popular in the better parts of the city: three stories, with the garage on the ground floor, a small iron railed balcony at each graceful window. The place must have cost him a small fortune. Not that she was overly impressed by money—she was simply making a mental note about him, filling in the blanks. He’d never mentioned that he was well-off, perhaps even wealthy. Not that she’d asked, of course.

  Alright, maybe a part of her was impressed. The house seemed an extension of that aura of power he wore. She should almost have expected it.

  She got out of the cab and walked up the narrow stairs on one side of the garage to the front door. It stood silent sentry, daring her to knock.

  Why did she feel as though her life was about to change forever?

  Because it is.

  She took a deep breath and ordered her racing pulse to calm. It didn’t help. She knocked anyway.

  And felt the breath escape her lungs when Adam opened the door.

  So damn handsome. No, that word was not enough. He was stunning in his black slacks, his white shirt rolled up at the sleeves. Flash of strong, white teeth as he smiled at her. Flash of burning lust when he took her hand and guided her inside.

  “Welcome, Skye.”

  “Thank you.” She didn’t know what else to say, feeling shy suddenly. Overwhelmed. And something else, something to do with being in his presence. She didn’t understand it. It felt good, right, yet alien to her at the same time. And she was melting a little all over.

  “Come and have a seat on the sofa.”

  He’d taken her into the living room. It was a beautiful house—great architectural details. Her artist’s eye took it all in quickly: the scrolling crown molding, the polished wood floors, the gorgeous wide mantle. Soft white walls, an eclectic collection of contemporary and antique furnishings. The enormous tan suede sofa was all clean, modern lines, while the square coffee table was a gorgeously carved piece of old Indonesian teak topped in glass. Soothing neutral colors everywhere except for the astonishing collection of modern art on the walls and the dark red Persian rug. She wanted to really look at the art, but it was too much to focus on with Adam standing expectantly behind her.

  She sat down, her stomach fluttering. She was unsure as to what to do with her hands, and fisted them at her sides, finally. Her stomach gave a sharp jump when he sat beside her.

  “You don’t need to be nervous,” he said quietly. “But I don’t mind if you are.”

  Another smile, this one definitely wicked. She averted her gaze. But he immediately cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look into that dark blue gaze.

  His tone was more commanding this time. “Don’t hide your eyes from me again.” He was quiet a moment, allowing her to absorb his words. “The eyes really are the windows to the soul. And I need to know you on the inside if this is going to work. Understood?”

  “Yes. I just…something is happening to me already.” She shook her head helplessly, hating to admit it.

  “I can see that. And trust me, it’s good. You’re responding to the mere idea of what we’re about to do. I can only imagine how you’ll respond once we begin. Do you have any questions?”

  “I…don’t know.”

  “Let me ask you, then—do you still feel the same about all the answers on the questionnaire?”

  “Yes.” She bit her lip. “Yes.”

  One corner of his mouth quirked, but she knew he wasn’t laughing at her, that he was simply pleased.

  “You remember your safe words?”

  She nodded.

  “Say it, Skye,” he demanded.

  Something new was happening inside her head. It was a sort of soft sinking sensation mixed with an almost unbearable anticipation. She answered right away, “I know my safe words. I understand that I am to use them if it feels like I should. Yellow for slow down or to check in, red to stop the scene.”

  “Very good. I’ll consider this the final moment of our negotiations for the time being, until we need to renegotiate as your boundaries change and expand. I’ll ask you once more, do you have any questions for me?”

  “When do we begin? Is it now?”

  That devastating smile again. “Yes.”

  He stood, offered her his hand. She took it, letting him guide her to her feet.

  A small wave of panic hit her, her pulse fluttering. “Where are we going?”

  He turned to her and she realized she’d never been this close to him before. He seemed even taller, standing right next to her. He smelled like pure male. Just clean skin and a hint of earthy musk. Sexy as hell.

  “Shh, no more questions now. No speaking unless I ask you to, unless it’s to use your safe words.” He cupped her face in his palm, making her legs go weak with desire, and something else—that sensation she couldn’t seem to put a name to. “You are in my hands now, Skye. No more worries, no concerns, no control here. I will do it all. For you. Just let it go. That’s why you’re here.”

  “I…I’m not sure if I can.”

  “You can. And you will. For me.”

  She nodded, unable to speak. Yes. For him. She wanted nothing else at this moment. What was happening to her? She couldn’t think clearly enough to figure it out.

  When he quietly ordered her to undress the breath went right out of her.

  “Wh—what?”

  His voice was low but certain. “No more talking, Skye. You will obey me while we’re in scene, and it’s starting right now. I told you to take your clothes off.”

  Tears threatened. She bit her lip and held them back. This was how it all began, wasn’t i
t? And it was exactly what she wanted. But she couldn’t move.

  She was shaking her head again, unable to speak as he pulled her in hard, right up against him, so that their bodies were flesh against bone. Lovely and a little threatening all at the same time. His scent went through her like a small storm of sensation as his big hand gripped her waist. Dizzying. Electrifying.

  “Skye, listen to me,” he said, his tone low but firm, more commanding than ever, his breath warm in her hair. “You are going to have to find a way to do as I tell you. To accept that. To yield. As I said before, this is a process. If you can’t give yourself over to the process we can’t do this. But I think you can. I know you can. I see it in you. Cry if you need to. It doesn’t matter, and in fact, I might enjoy it if you do. All that matters is simply doing it. Do you understand what I’m saying? You may respond.”

  She nodded, trying to blink the tears away. “It’s too real,” she whispered.

  “Too real to deal with?”

  “No, just…incredibly, intensely real.”

  “Tell me again that you want to be here. If you do.”

  “I do, I swear it.” She pulled back and looked up at him, caught his blue gaze. And was struck again by his pure, male beauty. Yes, every cell in her being wanted to be there.

  “Stop thinking,” he told her. “Do what your body is asking you to do. You’ve already done the thinking part in working through our negotiations, deciding to come to me. Too much thinking now will only get in the way of what’s happening between us here.”

  “I’m trying.”

  He swept a strand of hair from her cheek, his fingertips a whisper of skin against skin that made her limbs warm and weak. Yet his arm around her waist, his hand at her hip, was still holding her almost tight enough to hurt. “Tell me what the struggle is about.”

  “I…I’m trying to figure it out. It’s hard to think straight. I’m just…it’s hard to give up control. It’s scary no matter how much I want to do this. And some part of me feels…ashamed that I want this. Does that make sense?”