Chapter 22

Chapter

Twenty-Two

I fold my arms and shake my head. "No." I've had plenty of time to stew in a fog of sexual frustration since dipping my toes in the pool of Kinkdom two days ago. The more time passes, the angrier I become until Reason announces she's out, and Damn-the-Consequences puts on her Sunday best and takes the helm.

It doesn't help that every time I saw Darien since our first foray into what could've been the best orgasm of my life, he's been a smug, nonchalant prick. That's not fair. He isn't a prick. Teasing me with innuendo is prickish. Not that he's really teasing me, since simply being in his presence is an aphrodisiac. Lily thinks I should ‘jump his bones,' as she puts it. I try explaining the rules here, but she's never been one to follow the rules.

Even when he's explaining why flip-flops are acceptable footwear in any situation, to which I beg to differ, part of my mind is consumed with memories of his hands on my body. Every word that comes from his mouth drips with innuendo. When he tells me it's pronounced ‘jif,' not gif with a hard g, all I can focus on is the word hard. He uses that husky voice, and it triggers something in my brain, and I think I'll agree to anything. Well, not the j instead of g thing. A girl has to have standards.

But, God, he knows how to play me. How to get under my skin. He's Mozart, and I'm stuck tapping out chopsticks.

Bullheadedness is my only recourse for retaliation, and I go all in.

"Eden, refusing is not an option." Zed holds out his hand.

I huff and shift to the side, focusing on my bedroom wall and peevishly holding onto my resentment. "Tell him to fuck off." I swing my head toward my squire. "Or better yet, tell him I think he should find a hobby, perhaps a five-finger one. I'm not his plaything."

"But you are, my dear," Zed tells me, reaching out and grasping my hand. "Pleasure Island is the playground, and you, my sweet, are the equipment with which they play."

"Are you comparing me to a teeter-totter?"

"More like a jungle gym." He grins and pulls me up.

"Zed, he's just going to leave me in perpetual agony! It's seriously pissing me off, and you should know by now that when I get riled, I do shit that lands me in trouble."

"I do know that, and so does he."

Huh. Am I playing right into Darien's hands by getting all hot and bothered and turning that unfulfilled lust into anger? Not that I can help it. I'm grossly unschooled.

Zed tugs my fingers, and I acquiesce with a grumble. I could fight him. But he'd win that scuffle, and I would end up in the same place I am now. Besides, he's right. I signed up for this. Pages and Pastries, Eden. Pages and Pastries.

And if I'm being completely honest, I don't want to say no. Not really. My body sings for Darien. Bastard.

We arrive at what I christened the Spice Room. Before entering, I grab hold of the vestiges of my anger and put on my haughtiest face. Shoulders squared, I march into the room, boobs swinging and flesh jiggling. Behind me, Zed sighs and shuts the door.

Darien sweeps his eyes over me, his crooked smile making him irritatingly fuckable. Not that he isn't fuckable twenty-four-seven.

I stop a foot away and put my hands on my hips. I'm pleased to see his eyebrows shoot up.

"You look ready for battle," he says, head tilting to the side. The action causes a lock of dark hair to fall into his eyes, and damn me when I want to reach over and sweep it off his forehead.

Balling my hands into fists, I slap on resting bitch face. "I spent hours putting together this outfit to show you how much I care."

He chuckles and moves slowly toward me. I steel myself against him, fixing my eyes just above his head. When he's close enough to touch me, he grabs my shoulders, whips my body around, and growls in my ear, "Your flesh is a canvas, and my tongue is going to write all over it."

My pussy throbs. Goddammit.

Darien slides a satin gag into my mouth and ushers me to what looks like a medieval torture rack. Turning me to face him, he pushes me toward the device, using his body to press my back to the frame. I can feel his cock against my belly.

With a few quick movements, my arms are opened and strapped. He kneels, and I can feel his eyes on my pussy. Nudging my legs open, he secures my ankles and tilts the device back at a slight angle.

I'm spread-eagled. All the fight leaves me in a rush. I am pure feeling. Pure need.

And he knows it.

"You cannot fight me and hope to win, Eden." He picks up the peacock feather and traces the soft tufts across my breasts and nipples. "Your body belongs to me. You belong to me."

The feather dips between my breasts, then lower in spirals across my belly. My clit throbs in anticipation. I grit my teeth and force my hips to remain still when all I want to do is thrust them forward. His mouth curves in a smile as he watches me struggle. Sweeping the feather up my torso, he flips it and uses the quill to trace a path down my arm to my open palm. Who knew stroking someone's palm could be so erotic? The quill moves over my skin in circles, making my fingers twitch. The sensations run up my arm, down my body, and straight to my crotch.

He presses the quill into the center of my palm in a thrusting motion, and I swallow the groan crawling up my throat. He sees my fighting to hold onto the shreds of my control and smiles. Dropping the feather, he kneels and licks the spot where the quill leaves a small dent in my skin. His tongue spins in tight circles, and my head falls back .

I ache. I want that tongue between my legs. I've dreamed about him licking and sucking my clit. And he's showing me how talented that tongue can be as it sweeps across my skin, flicking, licking, suckling. My jaw unclenches, and a moan of need batters my teeth and breaks through.

He stands, running his fingers from my hand up my arm, trailing the side of my breast. Leaning forward, he whispers, "Surrender."

Oh, God. I want to. If I could open my legs more and thrust his face between them, I would. I writhe against my restraints, and his eyes flare.

"Have you ever had your pussy licked?"

I shake my head.

He makes a noise like a growl, and my clit throbs. Darien steps away, and I want to cry. I whimper behind the gag, pleading with my eyes, but he's turned away from me to fetch something from one of the cabinets. He comes back with a jar. Unscrewing a lid shouldn't be seductive, but it is as it slowly turns, his expression as he watches me rife with promise.

At this point, I'd agree to anything. He's driving me mad, and I'm powerless to fight him.

Darien dips a finger into the jar, then gets on his knees, spreading the lips of my pussy open. I groan, begging him behind the soft fabric in my mouth. He rubs the contents on my clit, then stands and licks his finger. I can feel whatever it is sitting on my sensitive nub, making me even more aware of my aching need. Bending forward, he tugs the gag out of my mouth and nibbles my lips, plunging his tongue in my mouth when I part them .

Honey. I taste honey.

That's what is sitting on my clit in a sticky mass. God, I want him to lick it off!

My gag is moved back into place and the jar is set aside in favor of a short whip with satin thongs. He spins it in the air, the whistling building my anticipation. With a quick flick of his wrist, it comes down to my breasts. They bounce as I try to escape the contact. But it doesn't hurt. The material is so soft it brushes against my nipples, making them ache.

Again and again, he swings the whip, and each time, my body shudders with need. I want it to strike me. I want to feel the delicious smack. Then, he moves to my hips. I try to open my legs, needing to feel the thongs hit my pussy, but my ankles keep me fixed. My head lolls to the side, and he strikes the fleshy mound of my mons. Shifting the position of the whip, he flicks it upward, and I feel it smack against the lips of my pussy, feel the thongs hit my honey-covered clit.

A few more slaps. That's all I need. My body trembles.

Then he stops, and I want to hurl profanities at him. The whip drops to the floor with a thump, followed quickly by the sound of his body as he goes to his knees. Darien grips my hips and darts his tongue between the folds of my pussy. I scream behind the gag.

It's so good. Oh, my god! I try to spread my legs open, but I'm trapped.

He opens his mouth and sucks on my pussy, tongue rubbing my clit, back and forth, then in circles over and over. It hardens, a throbbing ache that consumes me before it bursts. My legs jerk, my body shuddering. It's too much. Overpowering. I try to close my thighs, unable to take anymore, but I can't. His tongue continues to work, long strokes that ease the ache and elicit another. I come again and sag against the restraints.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.