The Enigma (Unlawful Men)

And he pulls away again.

No!

I breathe in deeply through my nose, try to gather myself, as my release subsides, abandoning me. This is the best kind of pain imaginable. I’m suffering but not suffering. Hurting but loving it. Feeling and craving more of it.

This really could be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

And the worst.

I go limp, unable to hold myself up, my full weight resting on his shoulders. It doesn’t hinder him. James rises to standing, holding me with one hand on my lower back. I hear the clang of metal, and suddenly my arms are falling from the suspension rail, though my hands are still bound. No more? Another hand meets my back, and he walks a few paces, his face still snuggled in between my thighs. Softness meets my back, and then hardness meets my chest. “Your orgasm is going to be so fucking powerful, I need my cock to absorb it, not my mouth.” He fiddles with my gag, and a moment later it’s gone. I swallow, trying to find some moisture. “Here,” he rasps, sweeping his wet tongue through my mouth, sharing his saliva. And once my mouth is wet again, he kisses me deeply, moaning, pulling back, pushing forward time and again.

“I want to see you,” I beg, not with any confidence that he’ll grant my wish. “Please.”

“Let me see you,” he counters, pulling my blindfold up. I blink and squint, finding his blue eyes quickly. “Let me see you, Beau.”

I stare at him. He’s seen me. But . . . “Let me see you,” I counter softly, absorbing every inch of his complicated, beautiful face. His kink. His mood. His coldness. His other name. Who am I looking at? Who am I seeing?

“You will.” Another kiss, this time delicate. “I’ve no doubt about it.” He scans my face. “Do I need protection?”

“No. Do I?”

His hips swivel, and he thrusts into me on a gruff bawl, me on a broken cry, my neck cracking with the speed that I throw my head back. He pumps hard and fast, hitting me unfathomably deep. The pain is unfamiliar but comforting. A pain I can handle. A pain I like.

“More,” I cry, closing my eyes, absorbing his blows, smiling on the inside when his pounds become harsher. “More,” I say again, and I hear him growl, striking me harder still. It’s agony. It’s amazing. “More,” I whisper, disappearing into a never-ending abyss of pleasure. Sound becomes a muffled white noise, my body weightless, my heart light. I’m being jolted constantly, I’m drenched through. “More,” I mumble, willing everything he has to give, rising to meet his drives, turning my head slowly to the other side, hiding my face in the crease of my raised arm. Every horrid woe leaves my mind one by one until there is only this moment. Him. Me. Our sweating bodies, his power, and my acceptance.

“Beau!” he barks, and I’m snapped back into the room, my eyes springing open. He’s looking down at me, his hair soaked and falling into his face, his skin glistening, his eyes crazy. Not in control. Wild. With me. “Stay with me, baby,” he says more calmly, and I force my eyes to remain open and my head in the game. He pulls free, grabs my thighs, and thrust them up until my knees are by my ears, his arms braced against them. He slams back into me on another grunt, and I choke, the change of position sending him even deeper. “More?” he asks, studying me as he withdraws slowly, the slickness of his cock gliding like ice.

“More,” I taunt, staring him down, egging him on, asking for it.

He smiles and slams home again on a yell.

“More,” I scream.

I’m pinned to his bed, folded in half, taking his mercifulness, and I want more. So much fucking more.

Bang!

“More!”

Bang!

“More!”

Bang!

“More!” I scream.

“Fuck!” He releases my knees and spins me over onto all fours, running a palm over my core, groaning at the saturated flesh he finds. “Jesus, Beau Hayley, you are a fucking surprise.” He pushes a palm down in between my shoulder blades, forcing my face to the sheets, and with the most delicate of touches, he runs a fingertip down the length of my spine to the crease of my backside. As I stare across the mattress, something appears in my field of vision. His hand. Holding a leather paddle. “Kiss it,” he orders, putting it in front of my mouth. I do as I’m bid, pushing my lips to the leather, as his thumb pushes against the tight ring of muscles in my ass. I tense without thought. “Relax,” he commands, and with that one soft word, my entire being loosens. I’m praised, his thumb slipping past the barrier, and I moan, the leather paddle being dragged down my back, his thumb circling a forbidden place. “I’m going to put something inside you.”