Smex Scene Sunday

Not all girls dream of being rescued by Prince Charming.
Some girls dream of the capture.

Ballerina Emily Charles always knew she was kinky, but it takes a special invitation to The Noire House–a private club where all manners of sensuality are explored–for her to realize the depths of her fantasies. During the brief dates held in total darkness, she meets the mesmerizing Sam Roche.

Sam is just the kind of seductive Dominant Emily went to The Noire House in search of. He leads her down a path of sexual discovery, each intimate encounter taking her closer to the life she always wanted but couldn’t find. They form an intense connection, and before they know it, they’re falling for each other.

But Sam isn’t the total stranger Emily believed him to be. When the truth is revealed and threatens Emily’s hard-won career and reputation, neither of them is sure their Kinkily-Ever-After may be possible.

Relax. Just a taste tonight, Emily. I promise not to do anything you’re not ready for just yet.”

I nodded, realizing too late that I hadn’t used my words. Before I could try to rectify my mistake, Sam’s lips met mine, his kiss fierce right from the start. I gasped, giving him more access. Strong arms enveloped me, hands moving down my back until they settled at my waist, his fingers digging into my slender build. He kissed me harder, tongue twining with mine, as his hands wandered lower at an impossibly slow pace.

I pulled away, gasping for air the moment his hands curled over my ass, gently squeezing. If my pulling away upset him, he didn’t show it, his mouth drifting to my neck and paying careful attention to my throat. A groan left him as his hands slid lower to the backs of my thighs. His tongue stroked the spot behind my ear—a spot I knew drove many women crazy. I’d never experienced this magical feeling, though it had nothing to do with Sam’s skilled kisses.

As if realizing he was losing me, he pulled back, eyes even darker than before. Holding my gaze, Sam gripped my thighs and lifted me into his arms, my legs pulled around his hips. My hands had been frozen against his chest, but I dared to let them travel up to circle his shoulders.

He gifted me with a look of approval, already walking us closer to the bed. My heart was pounding with nerves, but I tried to ignore it as he set me down on the edge of the huge mattress, my back greeting the soft sheets. Sam held himself above me with one arm, the other still at my thigh, running up and down with firm pressure. He stared at me for what felt like forever, but was probably only a few minutes. When he moved away, it was to reach up above my head.

I tried to follow his actions, but the angle wouldn’t allow me to see much. I caught a flash of black before Sam moved to his knees, holding onto a pair of leather cuffs.

I swallowed hard, wide eyes glued to the silver buckles.

“Relax. You mentioned in your file—”

“I know,” I interrupted before I could think better of it. “It’s just—you know.”

He gave me a patient smile. “Reality is a little different from fantasy.”

I nodded. Sam leaned in again and kissed me, much softer and gentler than he had only moments before he produced the cuffs. Once my breathing turned ragged, he pulled away and set about cuffing both of my wrists, the heavy leather a foreign sensation, though not unpleasant.

“I’ll always use cuffs, Emily,” he said as he clipped the buckles in place. “There are many other forms of restraints, but this is the one I like best. I find ropes to be time-consuming and even the softest ones leave marks.” He shrugged. “Maybe that’s my fault. I don’t have the patience to tie them perfectly, and I tend to get too rough.”

He sent me a roguish smile, watching me closely for a reaction.

“Besides, if something were to go wrong, leather cuffs are the fastest way to get you free. And don’t even ask about handcuffs. They’re a fucking vanilla fantasy of kink and completely illogical. Unless they’re lined, the metal can abrade the skin and when they are lined—well, they look ridiculous.”

My wrists now encased in the leather, Sam clipped them together and pulled them above my head. I closed my eyes as he attached them to the headboard, his fingers trailing down my arms. His lips brushed my forehead, light kisses pressed to my temples before he whispered into my ear.

“I also like how the leather cuffs grip your wrists. A solid pressure you don’t really get with other types of restraints.” He kissed the shell of my ear, causing my breath to stutter.

“What do you think, Emily? Are the cuffs a yes or a no?”

I nodded and felt him smile against my cheek. Your words, Emily. Use your words. His voice echoed in my head even though he hadn’t said them now.

“Yes,” I finally gasped out.

Sam groaned, the sound so much better when it vibrated right against my ear. One of his hands cupped my neck, stroking it with a light touch as he kissed my jaw. “How do you feel about edging, Emily?”

A nervous jolt shot through me. “What do you mean?”

Sam pulled back just enough so that he could meet my gaze, his hand settling at the base of my throat. “Edge play is a form of orgasm control and designed to keep you—the submissive—on edge. Like standing at the end of a cliff but not quite falling over the side. It’s pretty common in these types of relationships.”

I frowned, trying to understand but failing. He leaned in and kissed my lips, just a light brush, before his hand tightened around my throat. A panicked little yelp left me.

“How about this? How does this make you feel?”

“Scared,” the word escaped on a breathy rush.

“In a good way?” he asked, kissing my chin. I didn’t answer, unsure about what it was I was experiencing. “Focus on the pressure. And remember, if you want me to stop, you can safeword at any time.”

Sam tightened his grip, not quite cutting off my oxygen supply, but it felt close. He moved his mouth to the spot on my neck just under where his thumb pressed into the flesh. His tongue stroked against my skin, the wet heat distracting me from my struggle to breathe.

“Breath play is less common,” he whispered. “I suppose due to the skills required by the Dom in order to keep it safe. There’s a specific technique so you don’t actually strangle your partner. And of course the submissive has to trust their Dominant implicitly.”

His hand tightened further, blocking my airway. My eyes flew wide open, panic setting in full force as I began to struggle. I tugged at the cuffs locked around my wrists, my body wriggling to get free even as Sam trapped me under him. Before I could lose it entirely, Sam let go, his fingers caressing my throat as I gulped deep breaths.

He met my gaze, his dark eyes beautiful and scary as I tried to regain my composure.

“I’d like to work up to that, Emily,” he said. “But I won’t push you into it. This was just a taste, so you know what you’d be getting yourself into. I know what I’m doing though, so you’d never have to truly fear I’d harm you.”

I wanted to trust him and perhaps I would have if I wasn’t still breathing heavily. Instead, I said nothing—not offering a yes or a no. For now. He seemed to understand, giving me a subtle nod before kissing my lips. It took me a moment to respond, my nerves still somewhat shot. One of his hands wandered, the other holding the majority of his weight off of me.

He cupped my hip, fingers skimming the expanse of exposed skin—presumably—from my earlier struggles. With his palm flat against the small of my back, Sam pulled me closer, our bodies pressed tight so I felt every hard edge of him. He rocked his hips into the cradle between my thighs with a slow rhythm while his mouth descended on my neck once more.

[…]

“Emily? You still with me?”