CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Before the door had even closed behind them his arms swept around her and their lips met in another passionate and tender kiss; she had known he could be rough, seductive, the scurrilous philanderer, but she had only seen glimpses of this, the side full of as much soft care and sweetness as it was sexual puissance. She melted in his grasp, letting him hold her; squeeze her, lead her and control her. He handled the trust she placed in him delicately, laying her onto the bed, her nightgown worn and wrinkled; her hair a mess, she looked nothing like the proper lady she had always insisted on being, especially around him.
But it clearly did not matter - for something else had taken him, a deep emotional need throbbing in his chest to fulfill her - not just sexually, but emotionally; to truly try to free a wanting soul trapped in a cage crafted by the society that raised her. She looked away as he began to unbutton his shirt, not wanting to break the bedroom rules; the sound of his voice, 'I command you,' rung in her ears, and her back shivered, arched; her toes curled in anticipation. She gulped hard, fingers squeezing into the bed's sheets; she took deep and labored breaths, trying to control herself. He ran his hand along her chin, and she could see from the corner of her eyes that he took a gentle glee in watching Isobel's willing conformity to the powerful, binding bedroom rules they had established. He caressed her skin; and as rough as it had been after a day of solidarity and a day of sobbing, he persisted.
She closed her eyes as she heard the clinking of the metal chain - the one she recognized, the one that dug into her wrists and kept her bound and restricted so many times before. She hesitated as he pulled her wrists together in front of her stomach, wrapping the metal links tightly, the silver glinting in candlelight, bouncing off the edge of her gaze. Instead of erotic, the chain felt... heavy. Stifling; uncomfortable, and as love had thickened the air of their time together, it complicated the metallic matter. She cast her eyes down as he removed his belt, tempting her to gaze - but not just at the gorgeous body, but the face; she wanted to see care in his eyes; she wanted to see that she could trust him. But could she trust herself, if given that freedom?
He touched her, squeezed her; he tugged her dress higher, and nothing made her feel as high as when his hands felt along her sensitive flesh. His fingers taunted the bound woman's soft feminine folds; she spread her legs, but something still ached in the back of her head. She had wanted not captivity, but freedom - the freedom to choose; the freedom to submit. She wanted to be his - but she wanted to step into his world willingly; she wanted to bow because it felt so good to bow to him, to call him master; to reject the sin and the scandal and simply to embrace what she was - what he told her she was. He had been right.
"Please," she whispered as he moved close to kiss her lips, wolfish aggression in his every starved motion. "M... master, I want..."
"What do you want?" he asked her eagerly, his lips rolling along her jawline, until he spoke directly into her ear, letting her feel just how hard and tense he breathed in want for her body and her soul.
"I... please," she whimpered, rattling the chain at her wrists. "I don't want..." he grasped her chin, pulling her lips towards his own; their eyes locked, seized in shared desire, and in that moment he saw in her eyes what she needed; he knew. They saw deep into one another; she saw his deep and devoted love, beneath the layers of roguish roughness and sexual indulgence. She saw he had meant what he said - it had not just been another lie. She could see in the deep, brimming pools of black at the center of his gaze that inside him lay a soul begging for her, for the freedom she brought - for she could free him, the same as he would free her.
"The chain," she whimpered in a moan as his kisses ran along her neck. "I... please. Take it off. I want... I want to submit to you, without the chains. I want to be free," she said. She wanted to feel what it was to submit willingly - she wouldn't touch, even without the chains; she wouldn't look, even without the blindfold. She would give herself completely to him, just as she wanted in the darkest cage in the most secreted part of her throbbing, pumping heart. She felt the silvered links loosen, the fasteners freed; Lord Brighton tossed the chain to the other side of the room, and in feeling so unleashed, Isobel submitted. She breathed softly into the air, her back arching, her moans intense; she couldn't ever have imagined how much more intense it would feel to be his without the chains of lust or the chains of society constricting either of them. Enticed himself, Ellery began to absolutely worship his lover's skin, wave after wave after wanting wave of wild, kinetic kisses painting her along her chin, down her neck, to her throat, down her chest; and he did it with such aggression, but such care, lavishing love into every single press of the lips, as much as he did lust. She denied herself gripping him; she had to submit. She looked only at the canopy above the bed as he devoured her taste and her scent; she had to submit. And the more she fell into this consuming sensation of absolute willing submission, the more alive she felt; it had been what she had always wanted, and now freed, she began to cry out louder and louder.
His name on her lips, she couldn't control the things her body did; her screams grew loud enough that all of Norbury may very well have been able to hear, and each cry praised his name, full of utterly unfettered adulation. As she cried out for him, he stripped away the nightgown, until she laid again naked before him. She didn't watch, only felt; she closed her eyes, laid her arms against the bed and gave herself to him completely. His arms curled around her back and his bare body drew close, holding her tight as he ever had; his strong abs pressed to her pretty, trim stomach as she felt him push into her with a deep, powerful passion she hadn't felt, not in all their time together. Freed of their constraints in and out of the bedroom, he split her and filled her with something ethereal; not just the lust of the flesh, but he truly made love to his submissive now, holding her down and filling her harder and harder as she quivered uncontrollably beneath him. With each thrust he kissed her deep, leaving a bitten trail of hunger across her cheeks, her chin, and her neck; he laboriously licked at the bruised spot burning on her neck, and it seared with a new and intense, passionate pleasure to feel the pain burst down her nerves. He had marked her long ago, but not until now had she truly been his - and he, hers to submit to.
She stood on the precipice of intense, climactic ecstasy when she felt him pull away from her; his stiffened shaft slipped free of her sleek and sweet depths, and her eyes grew wide, the sensation of emptiness leaving her gasping, pained for breath, as the denial of her release surged through every vein.
"Look at me, watch me," he demanded, hands running through her hair, squeezing her locks as he pulled her gaze in his direction. He stood naked before her, the first time she'd truly gotten to see all of him displayed so brazenly; he was everything she had dreamed he was, an intense, rapturous presence of a man with a body carved of marble, a dream from his strong shoulders to his broad chest, along his stout legs and the beautiful, pulsing erection he nursed for her, his hands gripping and jerking it hotly in front of her wanting eyes. She almost, almost reached out - almost grasped, almost begged for it, but his rules bound her - and they were the only thing she wanted to obey about all of this twisted world. She watched, though she couldn't stop her erratic breaths; her mewling whimpers, every tense sound she made as she absolutely writhed on the bed. He teased her so well with each flexing jerk and squeeze of his length that lightning struck along her nerves; her head, full of steam and lust and emotion, throbbed and she felt nearly ready to pass out from all the delicious stimulation. He pushed her down by her shoulder, looming closer, his manhood then pressed against her lip - but she didn't touch it, not with her fingers; not with her tongue. She watched, and the more she watched, the more he denied her, the hotter she got; she no longer felt wrong enjoying it, for she embraced the sensation of her body taunted.
"Do you want this?" he teased her. She nodded, keeping her answer silent, just as he liked it. She nodded furiously, and the more she nodded the more he pressed his throbbing cock against her mouth, until he pushed it between her lips, giving her the briefest, most sublime taste of him. She fell back against the bad, starved, shaking, panting; she felt her orgasm building so explosive inside of her chest, and she couldn't even bear to watch him tease her, or to listen to all those panting grunts of his as he pleased himself in front of her.
"How badly do you want this?" he taunted her, grasping his shaft and pressing its spasming tip against her feminine petals, teasing her bead with his head, a sensation that nearly made her erupt all on its own. "Speak," he demanded, "tell me - now - how badly do you want this?"
"Mmmn-more!" she exclaimed, barely able to form coherent words for him. "Mo... more!" she begged, pleaded, screaming for him when he re-entered her, releasing all those pent-up feelings and wants and filthy, sinful, freeing desires all at once. Her powerful climax gripped her body when he pumped himself hard between her slit, his thumb rolling along her clit, her hips arching out against him to take all of him in as she rode an unfathomable rapture over and over again, the sensation paralyzing her muscles and surging down every limb as her voice rattled in her throat. She felt him stiffen inside of her and just as she had completed her own heavenly finale he pumped into her folds and growled loud and passionate, filling her over and over again with his sweet, succulent release. Their bodies utterly used, abused and exhausted as their orgasmic, delicious release washed over each of them, she looked into his eyes as they reached their beautiful apex together - and he looked into hers. They told a thousand sweet, lustful, loving stories together in those brief sinful seconds of perfect togetherness, and when it all ended he laid atop him love, her body still shaking and twitching with the remnants of something more erotic and powerful and gripping than she had ever felt in all of her life.
"E... Ellery, I... I've... never felt so..." she gasped, wrapping her arms around her panting lover's shoulders. He looked to her, their eyes close, their lips closer, as they shared a thousand little, sweet kisses, smattered between their exhausted gusts of breath.
"So free?..." he quipped. It was odd... jarring, even, but he was right. She had never submitted to anyone - but in finally doing so, she had actually felt more free - more herself, than she ever had in all of her life.
"Master..." she said the word, and even its faint mention brought a shudder along her spine. "You... you said before, in the dining hall, that you loved me..."
"I meant it," he comforted her with gentle kisses against her cheek.
"I could say the same, but I'm not certain it would mean as much," she admitted bashfully, her cheeks burning.
"You love me," he exhaled with a smirk on his dried, tired lips. The sun had by now fallen, and night encroached on two bodies beginning to feel the effects of two long, emotionally-draining days. "...you love me. But do you trust me?"
"Do I trust you?..." she asked quizzically, the concept having never occurred to her. "...trust..."
"Love grows and dies as a flower, Isobel," he explained, "unless it has something more to it. Trust... trust is real. And with this..." he pressed his finger to her bruise, the pain like a trigger now - a trigger for him, all the memories she had of him; and of his sweet, perfect dominance of her. "With this, trust is just as important as love. Do you trust me?" She hadn't thought of it in those terms, but like so much he had elaborated on to her in their time together... it made so much sense. She fell loose beneath him, her eyes beginning to grow heavy.
"Yes," she admitted with a yawn.
"Yes what? Tell me," he sighed into her ear. "I command it," he added, though with a tone far more comforting than he had used before - far more adoring.
"I trust you, master," she said, closing her eyes, cloaked in satisfying bliss.
"Good," she heard him respond, his arms cradling her body as she drifted away towards halcyon dreams of him.