Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

LIZZIE

T his must be what it feels like to be adored.

Looking down, I could see the magnificent diamond sparkle from the pin. The bird had a long graceful neck and a gorgeous plume filled with blue sapphires. It was by far the most beautiful and expensive piece of jewelry I had ever been given.

Everything about this was a fairy tale and he was my Prince Charming. It was crazy to think he actually was royalty… or aristocracy… I wasn't really sure how it worked. I was going to have to Google that later or better yet, maybe I could dig out some of my old romance novels and reread the Victorian ones where the dashing duke always rescued the poor governess.

Looking over the table at Richard, I took in his strong profile. With his dark wavy hair that was just slightly longer on top and his intense blue eyes, he really was quite the rakish romance hero, my very own Mr. Darcy.

The servers arrived placing the first course in front of us. It was a stunning plate, a large Scottish langoustine wrapped in cucumber and topped with caviar, all sitting on a pool of creamy lemon sauce.

Once again, Richard had ordered for the both of us and I was very pleased with his selection. He seemed to know just what I would like.

As we cut into the delicate and sweet flesh of the langoustine, I finally got a chance to ask the question that had been burning in my mind. "How did you find out my flat number?"

Sliding a bite off the edge of his fork with his teeth, Richard chewed carefully before responding. "It's simple really. I sent a messenger with the dress and gave him extra money to bribe your doorman."

That made sense. I still didn't remember giving him my street address the night before, but obviously I must have if he dropped me off at home. Let's face it, I wasn't exactly coherent after that amazing orgasm he had given me.

The servers cleared away the first course and placed a second, equally fantastic dish in front of us both. Taking up my fork, I tried to poke a bit at the rectangular brown shape on the plate.

"Have you never had foie gras?"

"Duck liver?" I shook my head no.

Placing a small piece on his fork, he swiped it through the juniper berry sauce and lifted it to my lips. "Open your mouth."

Keeping my gaze locked with his, I obeyed. To my surprise, the liver was buttery and smooth with just a hint of salt, which complemented the tang of the berry sauce.

"Yum!"

I returned to my own plate, this time with more enthusiasm. Just as I lifted my fork, the plate slid out from beneath it. Looking up, I saw a smile teasing the corners of Richard's mouth. "I find I like feeding my little bird."

Bite by bite I let him feed me the decadent dish as we stayed nestled in our cocoon of light, the soft sounds of the dining room close yet seemingly far away.

The final course was fillet of turbot with leeks and grapefruit. Each dish was a little piece of art. What I especially loved was the portions were so delicate you could eat without feeling full or guilty for indulging in such rich French cuisine.

The headwaiter poured us each a glass of a Graham's Vintage Port then discreetly left. As we waited for the final dessert course, Richard leaned over to grasp my hand.

"Would you like to play another game?"

Remembering the illicit details of his kinky game from last night, I clenched my thighs. Taking my panties off under a table when we were high above the dining room in our own private space with just the possibility that someone might see was daring and fun. Taking them off when I could hear bits and pieces of the dinner conversation taking place at the table just on the other side of a thin fiber optic curtain was a different matter entirely.

Feeling the blush creep over my cheeks, I asked, "You're not going to ask me to take off my panties again, are you?"

"We've already played that game. Let's raise the stakes with this new one." His voice had taken on the dark seduction of smoke whispering over whiskey.

Before I could respond, the waiter returned. He placed a platter of eight tiny meringue swans that looked to be floating on a bed of edible flowers on the table and quietly left.

"Those are so cute!"

He didn't even look at the platter but rather kept his intense cobalt blue gaze on me. "The game has begun."

Transfixed, I couldn't take my gaze off him as he lifted one of the glass votive candle holders off the table and held the flickering flame up.

Strengthening his grip on my hand, he flipped my arm over onto the table, exposing the front of my wrist and forearm.

Holding the candle over my arm, he leaned in close. The flame gave his features a shadowed, more sinister appearance. "Do you know why pain increases pleasure?"

"Richard, please." Pleading, I tried to pull my arm free. His grip remained firm.

"Some believe it is because the pathways in the brain for both pleasure and pain overlap."

The hair on the back of my neck rose as I felt the heat radiating from the candle.

"This isn't funny, Richard."

"I'm not laughing, Elizabeth."

As he tilted the votive holder over my arm, I watched as the white candle wax, made clear from heat, pooled near the edge. Beads of sweat slipped between my breasts as my heart raced. Once more I tried to pull away.

"The real secret why pain increases pleasure lies in the anticipation. You see, little one, pleasure can be elusive but pain… pain never disappoints." Richard rocked the glass holder between his fingers; each time the wax creeped closer to the edge. "Can you feel it? How all your senses are now alert? You can feel everything from the beating of your heart to each ragged breath escaping your lips."

A single drop of wax fell onto my wrist.

Stifling a cry, I tried to wrench my arm away. "I'll scream."

"Go ahead."

His boldness stunned me. We were in the middle of a public restaurant. He was a public figure. Surely he wasn't so arrogant as to think a woman could scream "help" in his presence and nothing would happen?

I bit my lip so hard, the sickening metallic tang of blood mixed with the dried fruit taste of the port on my tongue.

"It's intriguing how close our responses to both pleasure and pain can be. Heavy breathing. Moans. The tensing of the body. All the same."

This time he tilted the candle deeper, allowing a line of hot wax to splash down onto my wrist. I began to cry. The liquid burn of the wax stung the thin delicate skin. Desperately I wanted to scratch off the drying bits but didn't dare. Pressing my free hand between my thighs, I begged, "I don't like this game. It hurts."

"That's the point."

He splashed more wax onto my wrist. Pink skin began to blossom beneath the wax, creating a macabre design, an intricate web of pristine white and mottled red. The pain had taken on a sharp pitch, driven to higher levels by my fear.

"You see, by experiencing pain first, you have cleared a direct path to pleasure in your mind. Your body is primed to experience it. Begging for it. It is no longer an elusive mist but rather a pulsing, throbbing reality."

Richard tilted the candle again. The hot wax poured over the wick, extinguishing the flame. A swirl of smoke rose between us along with the acrid scent of sulphur.

A sign of the devil.

Richard tossed the candle aside. His arm snaked out, grabbing me around the neck. My dress tore as I was forced to my knees before him. A submissive bowing before her dark lord.

Reaching for his belt buckle, he growled, "Now comes the pleasure."

Despite the violence and pain, I actually found myself staring at his large hands as they methodically slipped the long leather strap through the metal buckle. My mouth went dry. I licked my lips, feeling my pulse rise even higher as I waited to see his cock. I had only felt it a few times as he pressed it against my hip or thigh. Now I wanted to see if the length and breadth of it matched my imagination.

Caring little about the patrons who circled our small enclosure, I slid my hands along the tops of his thighs, hissing as the still throbbing skin of my right forearm grazed the fabric of his trousers. It burned but not as much as that sting when the hot wax first made contact. Now it was a dull ache that still heightened my senses and made me even more aware of each movement and breath.

The pain–pleasure connection.

Pulling open the flaps of his trousers, Richard fisted the length of his cock and pulled it free.

Holy hell.

He was even bigger than I imagined. It was a leviathan. Thick and long, it jutted halfway up his muscled torso. Tentatively, I reached out my hand to touch the pulsing length. He felt smooth and hot, the purple tip shining with pre-cum. I held my hand up; he was almost twice the length over my fingertips.

Richard spread his knees wider and used the hand that was still on the back of my neck to push me forward.

"Have you ever deep throated a man?"

His blue eyes turned almost black in the dim light as he asked the question. His jaw tensed as he waited for my response.

"Never," I breathed. It was the truth.

You could see his body somewhat relax. It might sound crazy, but somehow, I felt as though if my answer had been yes, he would have demanded a name and that man would be dead by morning.

Richard moved forward in his seat as he gripped his cock. "Open your mouth."

"Richard, I don't know if?—"

"Elizabeth. Open. Your. Mouth. If I have to force you I will, but I'd much rather you do this willingly. This time."

Feeling the power of his presence and his words, it wasn't a matter of my not having a choice. I actually wanted to do this. Wanted to please him. Wanted to once more stretch the limitations of my comfort zone and experience the level of pain and pleasure his eyes promised.

I wanted to play his game.

Rising up on my knees, I tilted my head back… and opened my mouth.

"Good girl, like my baby bird, begging to be fed."

Unable to suppress a whimper, I tried to control the trembling of my lips as the large purple head slipped past them. Closing my eyes as his hands wrapped around my head, I braced for what I knew was coming next.

This was going to hurt.

He thrust his hips forward the same moment he pulled my head down. The hard length of his cock slid along my tongue to press painfully against the back of my throat. My shoulders hunched as I gagged. A small bit of foamy spittle slipped from my mouth to land at the base of his cock.

Uncaring, he pulled back and thrust again. This time I could feel the head slip deeper into my throat. My lips stretched around the base as my teeth dug into the underside of my tongue. Once more I gagged. My abdominal muscles clenched as my nails dug into his thighs.

Thrust after thrust, each one pushing deeper into my throat. I could imagine the outline of his cock bulging through the thin skin of my throat.

The musky scent of his skin filled my nostrils as I breathed heavily through them.

After a particularly violent thrust, tears slipped down my cheeks.

Richard eased forward on the chair to increase his leverage as he watched me struggle to swallow his cock.

"Eyes on me, love."

I kept my teary gaze on him as my jaw began to ache. Spit dripped from the corners of my mouth onto his trousers. The swollen length punished my mouth and throat. I could feel every inch, even the ridge of the head as it slid over my sore tongue. Desperately I tried to keep my teeth from scraping along his length.

I began making obscene retching noises and moans. There was no doubt the patrons who surrounded us knew what was happening behind our glittering curtain of light and I didn't care. In fact, it spurred me on. The idea that all of these people knew that I was debasing myself on my knees in front of this powerful, godlike man only increased my awareness of my own submission.

"That's it, baby, swallow me down, like a good girl."

The primal growl of his words spurred me on.

As my body accepted the pain of his thrusts, I frantically clawed at the layers of ruffles and fabric of my dress, desperate to touch myself. Finally, the tips of my fingers felt the silky, wet fabric of my panties.

My two middle fingers moved in circles over my silk-clad clit as I reveled in the pressure of his hands on my head as he guided me deeper and deeper onto his cock.

"Eyes on me," he once more commanded. "I want to feel the tip of that pert little nose of yours against my stomach."

My eyes widened in shock. Already I was struggling to accept his length but I could see there were still several inches before the base.

He pulled free. "Deep breath, baby."

Taking a deep breath, I begged, "Richard—" That was all I was allowed to speak.

His cock pushed past my lips, across my tongue, then pressed against the back of my throat till the weakened ring of muscle gave in and he slipped deeper.

His hands tilted my head all the way back as he pushed in another inch… then another.

My lungs screamed for oxygen.

My jaw screamed in pain.

Tears ran down my cheeks.

Still… he pushed in another inch.

Richard groaned as he pushed another impossible inch of thick flesh down my throat.

I then felt just the faintest brush against the tip of my nose. My eyes flew open as I saw the tanned skin of his abdomen with just the faintest brushing of dark hair.

A sense of relief and pride rushed over me.

"Hold it. Keep your mouth open. Let me feel that tight throat," he said through clenched teeth.

Increasing the pace of my fingertips, I focused on the feel of his warm sandalwood-scented skin against my nose.

Both our bodies were united. Tense and strained, building the pain to increase the pleasure.

With a rush of breath, he pulled free. I choked and gagged. Through my tears I could see him furiously fisting his cock, pumping up and down, knowing he had saved me from that at least.

Without having to be told, I leaned forward with my mouth open and tongue out. I was rewarded by a flash of his white teeth. His head then tilted back as he groaned. A white stream of warm cum landed on my tongue and lips.

"Stay right there. Don't swallow yet."

Leaving the salty cum pooled on the center of my tongue, my gaze followed his arm as it reached over the table. He held one of the delicate meringue swans in his large hand. Giving me a wink, he placed it on the tip of my tongue.

"When that melts, you can swallow."

The creamy sugar sweetness immediately mixed with the musky saltiness of his cum.

As I obeyed, he placed his now only semi-erect cock back into his trousers and buckled his pants. I could feel the meringue cum slip over the edge of my tongue and begin to coat my lips.

Richard caressed my face as he wiped the tears from my cheeks.

"Swallow, my little bird."

I obeyed.

Placing a finger under my chin, he lifted my face up.

"Now it's your turn."