Black Sheep

I wait in the dark on a chair at the end of the hall, my legs crossed at the ankle, my hands folded in my lap. Duke lies at my side. Like me, he’s also watching the door at the end of the hall, his head resting between his front paws. We both hear the car park in the driveway and Duke’s tail starts swishing. I remind him to stay down and he follows my command.

I’ve been fantasizing about this moment. Since Wednesday, Kaplan and I have met every morning at Grindstone and then texted throughout the day. It’s all been very proper. No fucking on his desk or trysts in the library. But the need for more has grown between us. The first day, he held my hand at the table. The next was a kiss on the cheek. Today, Kaplan showed up in his motorcycle jacket and flashed that dimple as he walked in and I couldn’t help it, I stole a heated kiss before he even had a chance to sit down. He stole one in return when he walked me to my office, the hallway silent and empty.

But I’m burning for more than an arm around my shoulders or a stolen kiss in a quiet corridor. I hunger for something…cataclysmic.

Duke’s tail whispers across the floor as a key slots into the lock of the front door. The tumbler turns. The handle twists and the door opens, letting the moonlight slide down the hall as it frames the tall and familiar figure on the threshold.

“Duke?” Kaplan says with a worried, wary tone, closing the door behind him. He’s used to the dog bounding down the corridor as soon as he gets home. He can’t see us here in the shadows with his eyes not yet adjusted to the interior darkness.

He flicks on the hallway light and I smile.

“Good evening, Dr. Kaplan.”

He startles. But it takes only an instant before the surprise turns into a heated longing as his gaze trails down my body. A purple lace bodysuit hugs my skin, closing high on my neck but with a wide keyhole at the top of my breasts and stomach, leaving swaths of exposed skin while covering my back. I make a show of uncrossing and recrossing my legs so he can see the two ribbons at the bottom of the bodysuit with no fabric obstructing his view of my pussy. I can almost hear Kaplan’s heart pulsing in his chest, sending blood to the growing bulge in his jeans.

Kaplan slides his satchel down his arm and I watch with predatory interest as he sets the bag on the floor next to the door. Duke’s tail swishes furiously across the hardwood and his muscles tense with the desire to race down the hall toward his master. “Zustan, Duke,” I say, and the dog flattens to the floor.

“Did you teach my dog Czech?” Kaplan asks. My smile blooms. Kaplan’s eyes darken, but not with anger. “Let me guess, skills I don’t even know about, right?”

I lift a shoulder. “Pust.” The dog gets up and rushes to Kaplan’s side. He gives Duke some scratches but keeps his eyes on me, as though I might either launch an attack or disappear. I think it’s the latter he fears most. “You should get him better treats. The ones you buy are little more than flavored cardboard.”

Kaplan swallows as he straightens. “Duly noted.”

We watch one another for a long moment. To his credit, Kaplan doesn’t ask why I’m here or how I got in. I think both are pretty fucking obvious. He takes off his motorcycle jacket and sets it on a small table next to the door. Then he unbuttons one sleeve of his black shirt, rolling it over the tanned skin of his tense forearm. He stops at his elbow and does the same to the other, his eyes never leaving mine.

“What game are we playing, sweetheart?”

My heart rams against its bone cage. I bite my lip and the iron tang of blood threads across my tongue. “Hide and seek.”

He chuckles. “In my own home?”

“Indeed. If I stay hidden for more than five minutes, I win. If you find me before my alarm goes off, you win.”

“What do I get if I do?”

“Anything you desire for the whole night. You can take what you want when you want it. If I’m asleep, you can wake me. You can tie me up a thousand ways. You can fuck me any way you want to, but on two conditions. No impact play unless I say so. And my little ensemble here stays on unless I take it off,” I say, pointing my gaze down my body before locking it to Kaplan’s once more.

His energy is another dimension at the end of the hall. It’s like an aura that vibrates. An essence. The beast surfaces in his eyes and it can’t wait to consume me. “And if you win?”

My eyes dart to where his leather bag lies in a heap on the floor. “Do you have a sentimental attachment to that ugly bag of yours?”

“Only inasmuch as I know you despise it.”

A wicked smile crosses both of our lips. “If I win, I get the same prize. I can do what I want with you for the entire night. Only difference is, I get to cut the strap from that repulsive satchel and tie you with it.” I stand, my motion slow and careful as my muscles brace with anticipation. “Do we have a deal, Dr. Kaplan?”Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org exclusive © material.

“As long as you know that when I win, I’m going to tear you apart. I will not be gentle, Bria. I will not be kind. Unless you tap out, I am going to make you suffer in every moment of your pleasure. You’ll beg, Bria. I promise you.”

Kaplan’s eyes are that of a killer. A tiger in the shadows. A wolf in the woods. A falcon, plummeting from the sky.

I hope he can keep his promise.

“Turn around, Dr. Kaplan, and count to twenty so I can hear you. I’ll start the alarm on my watch as soon as you’re done counting.”

Kaplan’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “No cheating by setting it too early.”

“No cheating by using the dog to find me. Duke, lehni. Zustan.” The dog drops to the floor and Kaplan slowly turns, his eyes still fused to mine with a ravenous fire burning in his gaze until he’s forced to look away.

“One…two…three…”

I take off toward the living room, keeping my footsteps light but loud enough that he can hear, then I turn to the kitchen where there’s a small pantry. I open the door and close it softly, hoping it’s just enough to reach his ears.

“Seven…eight…nine…”

My steps become silent as I backtrack across the house. When I pass the mouth of the corridor to the front door, I only take a step when he counts to lessen the chances he’ll notice.

“Eleven…twelve…”

I dart down the hallway to the bedrooms and enter the guest room, lying on my back beside the bed so I can shuffle into my hiding spot from the last time I was here. Working my way to the wall, I press my side against it, my heart rioting in my chest not because I’m panicking, but because I fucking love this game. I want to win. But I also don’t.

“Eighteen…nineteen…twenty,” Kaplan calls from the front door. “Ready or not, sweetheart, here I come.”

I set the alarm on my watch and slow my breathing, straining to listen for any sound. There’s nothing. I don’t even know if he’s left the door. There’s no way he wants me to win, though I’m sure he would enjoy what I have in mind if I do. But that beast inside him is a hunter. It doesn’t just want to run me down. It thirsts for victory.

I check my watch. One minute and twenty-six seconds have elapsed. I’d love to believe that my trick worked and he’s simply at the other end of the house, looking in the kitchen cabinets or the pantry. I’m just not that naive.

There’s no sound. Nothing.

Maybe he thinks the silence will spook me into giving up my place? He’s wrong, if so.

Two minutes and ten seconds.

I hold my breath and listen, but all I hear is my heart thrumming in my ears.

Two minutes and thirty-eight seconds. Over halfway there.

I’m just letting my breath out in a slow stream when two hands grip my ankles and pull. My legs buck on impulse and I squeal, hitting my knees hard on the metal frame. My bare legs and ass squeak on the hardwood floor as Kaplan slides me from my hiding spot with a vicious tug.

“There’s no point in fighting,” Kaplan says as I claw at the bed frame. I nearly get my fingers around the slats before Kaplan tugs again and I’m laid out on the floor, free of my cover. I could kick him off, and I squirm like I want to, but I don’t.

Kaplan pins one of my arms with his knee and the other with a large hand. He smiles down at me, triumphant. Hungry. Feral. He leans his face closer to mine. “Hello, sweetheart. I told you I would win, and I am very much looking forward to my prize. I made a promise, Bria. Are you ready to beg?”

My breath comes in pants. My core clenches with an empty ache that yearns to be filled. I press my thighs together as arousal dampens them. “Yes,” I say, glaring at Kaplan’s smug grin.

“And you’re going to behave yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” he says as his smile widens. He whips a hemp rope from the floor and knots it around the wrist he traps in his hand, then binds it to my other one. Then he hauls me over his shoulder with a grunt and carries me to his bedroom, tossing me down on the mattress like a prized stag he’s shot down in the woods. I scramble to my knees and he tugs at my wrists. “Don’t move.”

Kaplan rummages in drawers as I kneel in the middle of the bed. My blood boils and foams in anticipation. A thin line of sweat dots my hairline, but a cold chill sluices down my spine. The distinctive sound of metal links forces gooseflesh skittering across my arms and legs. When Kaplan straightens, he deposits chains and ropes and cuffs beside me.

“Ankle,” he commands, his voice as rough as tires crunching across gravel. I twist my body and offer a leg. He slips a leather cuff around my ankle and attaches a chain to the metal ring before demanding the next one. When both cuffs are buckled, Kaplan secures the other end of the chains to the posts at the foot of his bed. He tightens them until there is no slack from where I sit, my legs spread wide and open for him. He looks at the glistening, pink flesh between them for a long moment before he tears his gaze away and starts working one of the knots free on my wrist.

“One day, we’ll do this properly,” Kaplan says as he unleashes my other wrist and then twists my hand behind my back. He bends my elbow so my hand rests between my shoulder blades. A softer rope winds between my thumb and forefinger and then across my arm. He passes it over my chest and to my back again, securing my other hand with the first. By the time he’s finished, my hands are immobilized in a web of ropes. The soft strands press into my arms and chest, my breasts still covered by the purple lace of my bodysuit but framed by the twined hemp.

Kaplan surveys his work and then meets my eyes. “You won’t be able to tap out, obviously.”

“Do you think I would anyway?” I ask with a daring smirk. His pupils blow wide beneath his hooded lids.

“No. But I need you to pick a safe word.”

“Done. Tweed.”

Kaplan barks a laugh. “Fine. Tweed it is.” He shifts backward until he’s able to stand at the foot of the bed. He looks down at me, my arms subdued, my breasts trapped between rope, cuffs and chains spreading my legs wide so he can see all the evidence of how much I want him. Kaplan keeps his eyes on me as he undresses, scouring my body with his scorching gaze.

When he’s done, Kaplan goes back to the drawers and opens one, pulling out a bottle of lube and a purple vibrator that’s nearly the same shade as my lingerie. Then he climbs up onto the bed and sets the toy and bottle down next to him as he kneels between my thighs. His hand flows up my body to rest at the back of my neck and he pulls me closer. His eyes bound between mine as he pushes me down onto the bed.

“Don’t forget to beg,” he whispers.

“Don’t forget to make me.”

There’s a beat of time that seems to last an eternity, and then Kaplan’s mouth is on mine in a kiss that’s brutal and unforgiving. Our teeth clash. He bites and nips. He fucks my mouth with his tongue. And his hands roam my body, tracing the lines of the ropes against my skin, pulling the lace to the side to pinch my nipples, drifting lower to press my clit in hard circles.

When he breaks the kiss, Kaplan bites and nibbles and sucks on my neck, not caring where he leaves a mark. I’ll be covered with bruises. He means to claim every inch of my skin and takes his time with both sides of my neck and then the flesh of my breasts. He sucks hard on my nipples and scrapes them between his teeth when he lets go, and when I cry out the second time, it only spurs him to bite harder.

Kaplan carves a torturous path of longing down my body, cutting a trail of tooth marks and bruises in his wake, until eventually he gets to my pussy. The chains rattle as my legs squirm with the need for friction, my arousal slipping down my ass to dampen the sheets. My arms and shoulders burn beneath my weight, but the discomfort only adds to my desire.

When he finally rests between my thighs, Kaplan blows a thin stream of cool air onto my flesh and I whimper with desperate need. “You need to come so badly, don’t you, sweetheart,” Kaplan says as one of his fingers traces a line through my slick folds and circles my clit. “Don’t you.”

“Yes,” I say in a breathless whisper.

“Such a shame you haven’t started begging then, isn’t it? What if I don’t let you come?”

He blows another thin stream of air across my core, the coolness of it only reminding me further of how much I burn for his touch. “Please,” I say. It sounds so foreign coming from my lips, but yet it’s right, somehow. “Please make me come.”

“Tsk-tsk, baby,” he purrs, then circles my clit with a stroke of his tongue that is far too gentle. My nerves spark like misfiring fuses. “You can do better than that.”

“Please, Eli. I need you to make me come. I’m begging you.” My throat tightens as he swirls my clit with more pressure. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Please. You’re the only one who can.”

Maybe he’ll think this is part of the game. Something to bolster his ego. But it’s not.

It’s the absolute truth.

There’s a fraction of a pause. I don’t open my eyes to see what his reaction might be, and he doesn’t let the suspended moment linger. “Good girl. That’s better.” And then he dives at my flesh, feasting like a starving man.

Kaplan parts my folds and licks every bit of my pussy. His fingers work my clit when he fucks me with his tongue. When I look down, his face glistens with saliva and arousal. His eyes narrow as he meets my gaze across my body and he bites my clit with the perfect mix of pleasure and pain.

“Make me come, please. Please,” I beg with the reminder he intended with his bite. His tongue soothes the pain and then I feel my reward, the tip of the vibrator pressing to my opening. “Eli, please,” I say again, and then he slips it into my sex and turns it on.

Kaplan keeps a rhythmic pace with the toy as he works my clit, his free hand coming up to pinch my nipple as a constant stream of pleas flows from my lips. I chant his name. I beg him for relief. I pray for release over and over until the coil of pleasure deep in my core implodes, taking all thought and reason and control with it. My legs shake and strain as Kaplan pushes them wider, not missing a second of the orgasm as it rages through every one of my nerves and muscles.

But it’s only just begun.

Kaplan casts the toy to the side and laps at my arousal as he unclamps one of my ankles and then the other with a swift and practiced hand. He only breaks his mouth away from my flesh when my legs are free, and then he hauls me up to a sitting position by the ropes across my chest.

When we’re eye-to-eye, the beast is staring back at me, desperate and dark and nowhere near done.

Kaplan squishes my cheeks between firm fingers. My skin tingles from the pressure and the heat of his fiery, wild gaze. “Open up,” he snarls.

I pop my lips open and he spits in my mouth.

“Do you taste that?”

I nod. It’s the flavor of my arousal, mixed with his own distinctive essence of mint and bourbon, and other things I can sense but can’t define. Elements that swirl together in an elixir on my tongue.

“You’re like a drug that never fades,” Kaplan hisses, his eyes gripping mine with desperation so consuming it looks painful. “Your flavor. Your scent. The sound of your cries. The way you beg. The way you take everything and ask for more… You invade my thoughts and you don’t let go.” An unsteady breath passes his parted lips as his gaze drills into mine. “If only you knew how badly I want to ruin you like you’ve ruined me.”

I don’t smile. There’s no cocky attitude in my expression when I look into his eyes. My voice is sincere when I speak. “I’m begging you to try.”

“This may have started as a game, Bria, but it’s not anymore. I want you to feel the way I feel.”

“Don’t you think I already do?”

There’s a single, shuddering breath between us. Kaplan’s eyes are the deepest lightless night.

“I don’t know. But I’m sure as fuck going to find out.”

Without another word, Kaplan grips the rope around my chest and flips me over onto my front. He pulls my hips up so that my ass is in the air and then pushes my cheek down, pressing my face into the mattress. He digs his fingers into my hips. “Do not move.”

I hear the sound of straps and the cap of the bottle of lube. The liquid drizzles across my ass, sliding over my slick pussy and dropping to the mattress, leaving the scent of salted caramel behind. A whispered curse passes my lips, longing already coiling low in my belly like a deadly, insatiable snake. I want to taste that lube mixed with his cum so badly that my mouth waters.

“What’s your word, Bria?” Kaplan growls as he slides his cock through the lube and positions it at my entrance. Another pressure meets the tight resistance of the pleated rim of my ass.

“Tweed.”

“Good girl.” He works the head of the strap-on past the clenched muscle and guides it deeper. It’s not as thick as the toy from his office, but my heart thunders in anticipation nonetheless. I know he won’t be gentle this time. As if reading my thoughts in the pattern of my breath, he stills when the tip of his cock breaches the entrance of my sex.

“I’m ready, Eli. I want you to ruin me for anyone but you.”

As soon as the words pass through my lips, Eli grabs onto the knots of rope encasing my bound hands and slams into me. I cry out with the invasion and the discomfort and the pleasure, the utter perfection of a fullness my body never knew it hungered for. He glides to the crown of his cock and the tip of the toy and I cry out again, this time at the loss of that feeling of taking everything he can give. I squirm, trying to push my ass closer but he evades me.

“Eli…” I raise my head and he presses my cheek back into the mattress with an unforgiving hand. “Please,” I whisper beneath his palm.

He thrusts into me again. I cry his name into the sheets.

Eli picks up a rhythm, a slow crescendo of thrusts, just like music singing in my flesh. Adagio: slow but powerful strokes. Andante: a steady pace, the friction building and pushing me closer to a cliff I can’t come back from. But it doesn’t stay so kind. Just like he promised, Eli wants to make me suffer. The music is only meant to lure me into a hell of mindless, never-ending need, into the twisting, symphonic madness of pleasure and pain, desire and release. So he pummels into me. He thrusts and grips and pushes and slams. When I cry out, he only pushes harder, delves deeper. The sounds I make just feed the demon that claws every scrap of ecstasy from us both and demands one thing in return.

More. 

By the time I come, I’m breathless and aching and screaming Eli’s name, shuddering and boneless.

But he’s still not done.

“Again,” he demands. Eli slows his pace just enough that I catch my breath, but as soon as he seems sure my heart won’t explode, he picks up a punishing cadence once more.

“I can’t,” I whisper. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even falter a beat in his rhythm. If anything, he grips the rope at my back tighter and fucks me harder.

Thank God.

This. This is what I want. This is what I need.

“I can’t.”

“Again, Bria.”

My thoughts start to spool away like threads on a loom. “Stop. Please, Eli…”

“Are you using your word?”

I bite my lips closed. That’s not what I want. Not at all. I shake my head beneath the pressure of his hand.

“Are you ruined yet?”

“I… I don’t know,” I grit out.

“Then the answer is no. You’re not done.” He slams into me with metronomic precision, both my pussy and my ass aching as I crawl closer to another orgasm. I haven’t said the word, and he won’t stop unless I do. And I feel something I hardly ever feel for anyone. Something so elusive and so precious that it lives at the very core of me, like the sun that shines into the windows of the palace in my mind.

Gratitude.

So I beg. I beg him to stop. I use every word in my arsenal except the one that will make Eli go still. And he thrusts into me with the discipline of a man who will respect my promises, and who will honor the ones he makes to me in return.

When I come apart in a hymn of begging and pleading, a sheen of sweat misting my face and dampening the purple lace of my lingerie, Eli praises me and caresses my skin. One hand still grips the rope at my back, but the other glides over the globes of my ass and the tense, trembling muscles of my thighs.

But he still hasn’t come.

The realization finally burrows into my bones, settling into my soul with a fire that seems to cauterize an old and festering wound.

I am already ruined for him. And I’m not only the most vulnerable I’ve ever been, but the most indestructible too.

Eli pulls out of me completely but keeps me in the same position with one hand as the other removes the strap-on. I hear it thud onto the floor, and then a heartbeat later he flips me onto my back, pulling my legs up against his chest. He lines his cock up to my pussy and glides back in with a moan as he starts circling my clit with his finger. I whimper and writhe, but he just grips my legs tighter, uncaring.

“I said I would tear you apart. I vowed to make you suffer.” Eli leans over me and stares into my eyes as he thrusts from crown to hilt. He looks right into my soul. And for the first time in a long time, I see another beast that doesn’t hate what it finds when it stares into the dark.

Eli smiles, and I smile in return.

“Suffer with me,” he whispers, and with a kiss of fire and promises, Eli Kaplan drags me deeper into hell.