Deep in the Heart of Me Ch. 03

After the seeming endlessness of the corridor he stopped them in front of his apartment. He needed both hands to open the door, so he snagged one of her wrists and helped her find the wall to steady herself. She just stood there, swaying slightly, sightless behind her glasses. Any other woman would have peeked by now. It infuriated him not knowing why she didn't. Why she was different.

He wrestled with the lock and then, finally, the door was open and he was guiding her inside, his hand on the gentle curve of her lower back. His relief was short-lived, however, as he closed the door and leaned back against it. After all his imaginings, all his fantasising. After all his obsessing, the object of his mania was here. Standing in his front hallway. And she was reaching up to take off the glasses...fuck!

He stepped forward with a swiftness that surprised even him and had both her arms pinned behind her back before she could protest. The sudden contact with her skin sent him spiralling off, only intensified by the closeness of the dark gleam of her hair. He wanted so much just to bury his face in it, breathe her in. Drown in her warmth. But he resisted.

"Eyes closed," he said his voice low and choked. He had to get the blindfold on her, and quick. He held her a few seconds longer, hoping she understood, and then let her go, his hand digging into his pocket for the black silk. It was warm in his hand, fluid and flowing.

"Glasses off...eyes closed," he warned her.

He stood as close behind her as he dared, watching her hesitancy as she took off the sunglasses, her blind fumbling as she tucked them back into her handbag. As soon as she dropped her hands to her sides he reached up, brushing the smooth fabric along her cheek in a slow caress. He wanted her to know that he was taking her sight. That he had control, and that she would do as he asked. Even as he thought these things he knew she would wait. And that somehow, no matter what he did, he wasn't actually in control of where this whole thing was headed. The cliff edge was still there, with the dark void beyond, and the pull was ever stronger.

Before he could change his mind he wrapped the black fabric carefully around her eyes and worked it into a firm knot at the back of her head. His fingers lingered, tempted by the warm silk of her hair. Not yet. He stepped back. She would wait.

He moved toward her, then paced away again, hands on his hips, conflicted, suddenly unsure of how to proceed. Fucking hell. In the end he stalked off down the hallway and into his bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt in quick, jerky movements, tugging it out of his waistband. His hands paused on his cuff buttons. Was this the seduction he'd envisioned? Undressing in separate rooms? She was still standing out in the front hall with her shoes on for fuck's sake.

He tossed the shirt onto the laundry hamper and strode back down the hall, stopping short when he saw her. Other than dropping her handbag to the floor at her feet, she hadn't moved.

Pushing his hands through his hair he made himself walk past her and through into the living room. The days were getting shorter, but it was still light out, the shadows of taller buildings long over the rooftops. Behind him stood a blindfolded girl, ready to do anything. He stared out into the fading light, feeling blind himself. What the fuck did he think he was playing at? But the madness had taken hold too long ago, and it was back to toy with him. He knew what he wanted her to do. He reached for the switch that closed the window blinds. This was going to be just for him.

As he approached, her head turned slightly towards him, searching for sounds, trying to follow his movements. He took a long look, letting his eyes drift down from the slash of black across her face, down to the plain tailored blouse, the dark pencil skirt. Those fucking sensible shoes. He didn't want any of that. What he ached for was underneath. Beneath the civility, the formality, under the skin and wild and dark.

He stepped closer, within touching distance. But still, he restrained himself.

"Undress."

Her eyebrows lifted and her lips parted, but she didn't move. She needed to be moved. Her wrist slipped so easily into his hand, and the barest of twitches had her chin rising in anticipation of the sting of a twist he threatened, but didn't deliver.

"Everything...undress," he repeated, the scent of her starting to cloud his thoughts, his head drifting down, his lips homing in on the place just below her ear. So close...

God. He dropped her wrist and dragged himself away, stepping backwards until the backs of his knees found his leather reading chair. He sat, his eyes never leaving her as she took one hesitant sidestep, and then another, her shoes discarded and her feet bare against his floorboards.

Her fingers moved hesitantly at first, slowly releasing the top buttons of her blouse one by one. He could see her take a deep breath as that determination of hers settled into the way she held her mouth and drew back her shoulders, and it wasn't long before the shirt was open and she was letting it slip down her arms onto the floor. She just stood there, in her bra and skirt, her cheeks flushed, her chest heaving with every breath. Those beautiful breasts, rising and falling, the black lace hugging her curves.

He watched, as if drugged, unable to look away, ashamed to be the one demanding she expose herself this way, at the same time desperately needing her to go on. He wanted to see everything.

Her skirt was the next to go, and he had to shift in his seat as her black lace underwear came into view, stark against the paleness of her skin. How many times had his dreams been filled with the sweet curve of those thighs? He stifled a groan as the image of them wrapped around his waist filled his mind and had to press his hands against his eyes to regain any semblance of control.

When he looked back up at her, the straps of her bra were draped around her upper arms and she had her hands behind her back, working at the hooks. Her movements only thrust her breasts further forward, and he was steady losing the battle to keep his distance. When she finally dropped the garment onto the puddle of clothes on the floor he couldn't hold himself back any longer and in several short strides he was standing within inches of her. He stared down at her, his eyes drifting from the tense line of her mouth to where her nipples puckered slightly in the cool air. They were the same deep, dusky pink as her lips, and they begged to be touched, licked, sucked. Her breasts were just as he'd imagined them, the perfect size and shape to just fill his hands, and though his body begged him to do it, he waited. She wasn't done yet.

She toyed with the waistband of her panties, the indecision clear on her face even with the blindfold. He circled around her, his feet silent on the hard floor, until he stood at her back, breathing in the scent of her.

"Go on..." he said.

And she did. She pushed them down and stepped out from the pool of clothes and stood with her back to him, naked as the day she was born. He could only stare, his eyes consuming every curve and line of her. Just the slender hollows along her shoulder blades entranced him. Everything cried out to be touched and tasted...

He stepped around the discarded clothes and moved to stand in front of her, mesmerised by the flush on her pale skin, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath. By the way she so freely gave herself, to him.

So he would take her, then. She clearly wanted him to. He reached for her elbows, encircling her arms with his hands before letting his grip slowly slide down to capture her wrists. Pulling her hands together behind her arched her back, and the beautiful softness of her breasts made contact with the bare skin of his chest. Oh shit. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move. But she jerked back from him, away from the contact, and he quickly regained his senses, trapping her against him with a knee pushed roughly between hers. She wasn't getting away from him that easy. He turned her, pressing her against the nearest wall, shifting his grip and dragging her imprisoned hands up the wall to shoulder height.

He expected a struggle. For her to cry out. But she only sighed softy and arched her hips up against him. Fuck! He swallowed a groan, the raging need in his groin nearly ending the game right then and there. He managed to drag himself away, his body screaming, but his thoughts clear. Not yet.

"Stay still," he growled, and she instantly stilled her movements. She might be physically naked, but he just knew...knew that he needed to strip her back further if he was to truly have her. He let the madness take a lead.

"Tell me...are you wet?"

He watched the emotions shift on her face. This wasn't what she'd expected. Good.

She finally decided to reply, and nodded, not speaking. He hadn't needed to ask to know the answer. Even in the shadows of the hallway he could see the gleam of moisture on her thighs. He could feel the dampness on his trousers. It was driving him crazy, but he held himself in check.

"Did you think I was going to fuck you tonight?"

He saw her flinch this time, as if he'd slapped her, her eyebrows moving into a frown, her lips opening wordlessly. He wondered at his own cruelty, the harshness in his voice, but it was the only way.

Then she spoke for the first time, her voice full of confusion, uncertainty, hurt. "Maybe...I don't know-" She pulled a little against his hands.

Keeping a firm grip on her wrists he dropped his head, his mouth inches from her upturned nipples. "How many guys have you been with...fucked?" He punctuated the last word by taking a nipple between his teeth and biting gently, feeling a dark thrill go through him when she cried out in shocked surprise.

He watched her breasts rising and falling with each rapid breath, watched the struggle going on inside her. He reached for her other nipple and bit down, hard.

This time she squealed, but she also spoke, her voice a low whimper. "I don't know...two...three maybe?"

Two...or three? "You don't know?" he asked her, incredulous. How could she not know?

She turned her face away, the flush in her cheeks deepening. "I don't really know what...counts," she muttered.

Mind racing and fighting what could only be panic at the thought of how inexperienced she seemed, he blinked, trying to think clearly. "Okay, how many did you have full sexual intercourse with?" That had to be a pretty straight-forward question to answer, right?

"Two."

Okay, "And lover number three?" he queried, breathing deep, not sure he really wanted to know. Had she been raped? The thought filled him with a sick dread.

"We just did some things...it was in highschool..."

He caught himself pressing harder on her wrists as a mixture of relief and jealousy twisted through him.

"What, you gave him a blowjob?" God, he sounded like such a prick.

"Maybe," she breathed, then added after the encouragement of a sharp nudge on her wrists, "Yes...yes. Okay?"

How could he be feeling jealous of her teenage fumblings? He could just see the guy now, inept, scrawny, pimple-faced...he wanted to kill him. Seriously, Jarod? Get a grip. But that need to mark her was growing again. To tell the world to fuck off, and that she was his. His mouth drifted to that soft place below her ear, his teeth just scraping against her skin. God, she smelled so good.

What he couldn't ignore was that with every humiliating question, she was opening further to him. He could feel her arousal building, and while he was fuelling the exchange, it was her that drove him further, deeper. He pushed on.

"And with the other boys..." Ha. They didn't warrant being called men. "What did you do with them?" he asked her.

"We just did...missionary mostly," she said between ragged breaths, embarrassed.

He dropped his head further, unable to keep himself away from the enticing curve of her breasts. He let his teeth skim along the skin, triumphant at the sound of her swallowed whimper and the push of her hips.

He rose up to face her, his mouth in line with hers. So close to that gorgeous mouth, those lips. He could feel her soft breath. If only he leaned forward, he would be kissing her...

"Were they any good?" he asked instead, his voice rough with the effort it took to hold himself back.

"They were fucking awful," she gasped, and to his surprise he found himself smiling. Smiling at her honesty, at her candour. In the confidence that he could do better. The desire to be a real man for her came flooding up out of nowhere and choked his breathing for a few seconds. Fuck.

She wanted him to kiss her, he could tell. The parted lips told him, the way she searched for him in her blindness. He couldn't give her that. Not yet.

He released one of her wrists from where he'd pressed it against the wall, and guided it instead to settle gently against his bare chest. Her fingers moved against his skin, tentative at first, then growing in confidence. The slow explosion of desire began in his lower belly and raced, electric through his body. To have her touch him...fuck, it was like nothing else. It seemed it was pretty good for her too, because she surprised him again with a little whimpering moan as she smoothed her hands over the muscles of his chest. He couldn't help but chuckle at the expression of sheer lustful enjoyment on her face.

The madness he thought was receding only came back stronger, but different this time. Not so much raging and sharp, but slow and warm. He was beginning to enjoy this. Pushing her further and deeper. With some regret he peeled her hand away from his chest and returned it to its captivity against the wall next to her head. One question he most definitely wanted an answer to bubbled to the surface.

"Did any of them make you come?"

To ensure her answer, he dipped his head back to her erect little nipples and tugged gently at one of them with his teeth. He felt her melt under his hands, and it was some moments before she found her voice to speak.

"No...no."

Her answer filled him with a mix of perverse pleasure...that he could go where other's hadn't, and a rising anger, one borne from old wounds, old scars.

"So you faked it," he said, punishing with an even harder bite on her other nipple, deaf to her cry.

"Yes..." was her answer.

"I don't tolerate lying," he said through gritted teeth. There it was. That damned dishonesty. Why couldn't women be truthful? Why did they hide behind lies?

And then she had the audacity...to smile.

"What, you think that's funny?"

"No!" she protested, "No...that's not why...I would never lie to you."

Oh but she had. It had taken literally twisting her arm to just admit a small thing like how often she pleasured herself!

"You did once...why should I trust you?" he demanded.

She didn't answer. He could see her jaw clench. Through the red heat of his anger he knew he'd gotten through. He needed her to take this seriously. No more lies, no more bullshit. It was all or nothing, or he was out.

"Promise me. Total honesty."

"Yes..."

"Say it!"

"I promise...I will never lie to you."

He watched her face, read the tone of her voice. Damn it but she meant it. He stepped back, letting go of her wrists, allowing her hands to drop back down to her sides. For a moment he just stood, watching the steady flicker of pulse at her throat. His anger gone, desire, pure and simple hunger took its place. He leaned in again, bracing his arms on the wall either side of her, just keeping his body back from her nakedness by a hair, dropping his head down next to hers. He swallowed, the memory of her writhing in the front seat of his car still fresh as if it had happened yesterday.

"When did you last come?"

He heard her drawn-in a breath. "Two nights ago..." she whispered.

He tried to ignore the way his cock twitched at the thought of her filling herself with those dainty fingers of hers. Fuck. And even though he suspected he knew the answer to the question, he wanted to hear the answer.

"What did you think about?"

She was gasping quietly. He was having trouble finding air himself. The whole world was made of heat, and they were at the centre of it...

"You."

Fuck. God. The fire in his groin was getting very difficult to ignore. But still he pushed her...both of them...further.

"Me what?"

Her words came out in the softest whisper, and he had to lean even closer to hear her answer.

"You...fucking me."

With a grunt he had her pinned to the wall, with his whole body this time, grinding his aching erection against the yielding softness of her belly. She made soft noises, her body wriggling against his, and not in complaint either. He pulled his head back to read her expression only to find a little smile on her face.

"Oh, you like that, huh?" he asked, pushing harder against her with his hips, letting her feel the length of him, the hardness that she caused with her little words.

"Yes," she answered, without hesitation.

"And does it compare?" he asked, the devil getting to him, but wanting to hear her say it. "To your previous lovers?"

A hesitation this time, as she wrestled with her thoughts. Fought against his goading words.

"Yes..."

It was his turn to smile. "Yes what?" he asked, turning his attention to the delicate round of earlobe so close to his lips. He nipped it lightly, felt her sharp breath, the nuzzled lower on her neck, teasing her, tempting her with the threat of his bite on her skin.

"Yes, you are...larger, if that's what you mean," she breathed next to his ear.

Why on earth had he asked her to admit that? He didn't think she'd lie about it just to please him, but did he need an ego boost so badly he'd make her say it? He pushed away from the wall and took a few steps back, leaning on the opposite wall of the entranceway, just taking her in. So what next? He knew what he wanted to do. But even with that cliff-edge and the dark beyond it calling to him, something held him back from just taking what he wanted.

Just do it, get on with it and get it out of your system for good, he urged himself. He closed the distance between them in a stride and had her nipple between his teeth before he could change his mind. The firm, soft nub begged to be tasted, and he flicked his tongue against it experimentally.

Her reaction was instantaneous, and as he switched to gently suckling the sensitive peak he had to catch her and hold her up against the wall just to keep her from buckling beneath him. But his main concern was the taste of her, the velvety feel of her skin. It had been too long since he'd felt it, and this was smoother, more delicate skin than he'd had his mouth on so far. It was intoxicating and created its own hunger, a hunger that began to consume him as he consumed her, and the red haze that sat at the edges of his brain suddenly threatened to engulf him.

He dragged himself away, chest heaving, stepping to the other wall to brace himself. Holy fuck, he had not been prepared for that.

Naked, helpless, and distressed, she clutched at the wall for support, and it was confirmed to him yet again that he was the world's biggest prick. When her leg turned slightly he could see now what he'd missed before. The bruise was still there, and even just the edge he could see was dark. How the hell had he gotten here? The fire in his belly roiled in a sickening way. He could see she was slipping, trying to hang onto the flat of the wall.

"Stand up...straight."

Great, Jarod, so you hate yourself so you take it out on her? Fuck. Fuck it! He pushed away from the wall and paced, turning away each time he got near to where she stood, hardly able to look at her. What the fuck was wrong with him anyway? Words found their way to the surface. Accusatory words. He stepped a little closer to her.