Song: Intimate - Erika de Casier

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Luscious

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He adjusted his cuff links and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, keeping his heavy eyes on mine, the remains of the earlier anger still there.

"Ophelia," He started, breaking the silence, "I believe it's time for our meeting."

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TW: restraints, pain play 

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Anticipation dripped from my pores like sticky honey as I sat on the luscious bed.

The restraints that were attached to the bed and hung on the wall seemed to taunt me as the seconds ticked by. The fact that it had only been five minutes as well as the fact that he hadn't even entered the room and my core was throbbing was nothing short of embarrassing.

How long was he going to make me wait?

The outfit I wore was a deep red lingerie set, accompanied by matching garters that hugged my legs like a second skin.

This time, a blindfold wasn't laid out with the outfit.

Finally, just when I thought I couldn't handle the waiting anymore, the handle of the door shook as he stepped inside the room.

The temperature seemed to rise as he stepped in, only wearing a pair of dress pants that rested low on his hips, letting my eyes roam his body as he gazed at me from across the room.

His chest, though it didn't seem like it when he came into work, was covered in tattoos that swirled and danced across his skin as he moved slowly towards me.

The anticipation in my core only thrummed at a more urgent pace as he neared me, reaching a peak as he carefully parted my legs and stood in between them, the bulge in his trousers slightly grazing my core.

"Did you wait long?" He asked, his eyes not moving from mine.

My breath caught in my throat at his fingertips lightly skimmed the top of my thigh, teasing me.

I only shook my head, unable to speak.

He tutted as his fingertips danced on my leg.

"Use your words, Piccola."

I gulped as I held his gaze, willing my body to work under his intense gaze.

"No," I breathed back, hoping that in our proximity he would be able to hear my whisper.

A sly smirk tugged at his lips as his eyes glanced at his fingers which pulled slightly at the garters I wore.

"No, what?"

His question threw me off guard and my mind whirred for a short moment before I realised what he was searching for.

I took in a short breath as his hand crawled higher.

"No, Sir."

He lifted his eyes to mine as his cold fingertips finally made contact with my bundle of nerves. I gasped at the sensation which led him to don an irritatingly smug smile.

"Good girl," He purred into my ear as his fingers tortured me.

He stroked my clit in, slow, circular motions, so slowly in fact that it caused me to try to grind harder against fingers, trying to gain any kind of harsher friction.

He tutted at me, stealing his finger away from my sensitive bud as I arched back at the lack of sensation as the cold air hit me.

"Are you going to behave or should I tie you down?"

I shook my head slightly, staring wide-eyed at him.

"I can behave, Sir," I breathed back.

He gazed at me with hooded eyes, as he leaned toward me and forced me to lean back on the bed. His arms locked around me and yet I couldn't find myself able to break the conversation our eyes seemed to have.

"It's too bad I don't believe you, Ms Moreno," He whispered in my ear as he clasped a heavy leather band around my left wrist, followed closely by my right.

My head whipped to the side to process whether he had retrained me, my disbelief mounting as I saw the heavy leather straps wrap around my wrists.

Panic surged through my body and I frantically met his eyes, pleading with him to let me loose. He met my gaze with a completely inscrutable expression but I didn't dare look away.

After a moment of silent contemplation, registering the panic in my expression he asked, "What's your safe word?"

Taken aback, my mind whirled as I tried to remember.

"Cloud," He answered after I fumbled with my words, "It's Cloud, remember that and we won't have any problems."

Cloud. Cloud. Cloud. Cloud. I repeated in my head over and over, willing myself not to forget.

Why did I pick such a weird word?

His finger trailing down my bare stomach and he leaned forward, his mouth meeting my ear, our intimate proximity taking my breath away.

"Don't be afraid, everything I do tonight will be only for your pleasure."

His words teased me and sent tingles down directly to my core and I couldn't help but feel disappointed as he pulled his lips away from my ear.

My disappointment quickly evaporated as his mouth found my collarbone and made a slow trail down through the middle of my breasts and my stomach before stopping just at the edge of my lacy panties.

Lulled into a false sense of security, the slaps that rained down on my thighs came out of nowhere and shocked me to my core, causing me to cry out sharply. The pain flowered into pleasure as his fingers massaged the place of injury and his mouth continued its torturous descent.

My heart felt as if it were going to burst out of its chest as his fingers torturously pulled down the red lace, baring the most sensitive part of my body to his wicked mouth and mind.

With my wrists still bound, it inhibited my ability to see what he was doing, only allowing me to see the top of his head as he dove straight into my heat, my back arching and legs clenching around his head at the unexpected stimulation.

Pulling away immediately, he bound my legs down without even looking at me, leaving me completely at his mercy.

Instead of continuing his sweet torture, he took a moment to take in my bound form before turning just out of my eyesight and taking several things off of one of the racks, causing my heartbeat to spike.

Though I wasn't able to get a good look at what he had retrieved, I was able to glimpse a flash of the unmistakable black leather.

The item hitting me across the inside of my thigh jerked me back into the reality of my situation  as the pain blossomed, sure to leave a mark. I looked back into his eyes, noticing the seriousness he looked at me with, trapping me with his heavy gaze.

"It's a riding crop, my favourite utensil for bratty subs," He said, not taking his eyes off me.

He brought the riding crop up, holding it between his two hands as if he were presenting it to me. When I met his eyes again I noticed they weren't as sure as before.

Was he taking the time to check if this was okay?

Gauging my reaction?

With a small smile, I made sure to keep my eyes on his, "With all due respect, Sir, I don't believe myself to be a brat."

Without a second's hesitation, the riding crop lay another hit across my other thigh and I breathed in sharply at the impact.

"Not a brat, you say?"

He smirked, grazing the tip of the leather across my thigh, inching ever so closely to my pussy.

"Let us recount the mistakes you've made today, Piccola," He spoke with such power that I couldn't look away, "First, you didn't address me by Sir when I first came in."

After he finished speaking, pain surged through my body as the riding crop hit my most sensitive of places.

"Second, you continued to break my rules and, by consequence, I had to tie you down."

This time, I was expecting the second slap.

"And finally, you talked back to me."

My back arched as far as it could off the bed as the third and hardest hit struck directly onto my clit.

Breathing heavily, I looked up at him through my lashes, my teeth gritted.

"So, piccola, what are you?" He questioned as he reached over and took my chin between his fingers.

I gulped as I looked at him, his eyes daring me to look away.

Though most likely only a few seconds passed, it felt like hours as I tried to recollect myself and prepare my throat to speak.

"A brat, Sir," I spoke through gritted teeth.

I couldn't help but cry out when the crop hit my clit another time, taking me completely by surprise.

"Wrong, Ms Moreno."

I gasped as his fingers reached in the middle of my legs and began to stroke my clit in slow, tantalising circles.

"You're my brat." 

My head leaned back as he pushed his fingers inside me, using his thumb to continue his sweet torture.

"Say it, Piccola," He commanded, his voice muffled as the pleasure I had been so denied began rushing through my body, building up to the peak.

Hearing I clatter, I saw out of the corner of my eye as he threw the crop to the side, only realizing why when his hand came to grab my chin again.

"Say it, say that you're my brat," He instructed, venom laced in his voice.

When I couldn't bring myself to speak, his sweet torture stopped, as if it was almost a warning.

Meeting his eyes, I saw how fierce he seemed, a different side to the darkness he usually sports around the club. He wasn't bound by any rules or onlookers watching, here, his darkness could prevail without boundaries.

His black hair was tousled and fell randomly over his forehead. I noticed his dark stubble that peppered across his jaw and finally, a few small scars that were barely noticeable in the daytime, but this close they were hard to ignore.

"Piccola," He warned, reminding me of what he wanted.

Clearing my throat, I spoke, my voice scratchy and barely a whisper.

"I'm your brat, Sir."

With my admission, his sweet torture began again, building up the tension throughout my body yet again.

"Good girl," He said, his voice a deep rumble.

Sweat glistened my body as I reached my climax from just his fingers, my body arching and pleasure exploding through my body, reaching the biggest high I had gotten in years.

He continued his torture until the last dregs of my orgasm had subsided and pulled out his fingers, making sure I watched him as he slid them into his mouth and sucked the juices off.

"So sweet," He muttered as he undid my bindings, allowing me to sit up in my own time as he left the room for a short moment, coming back with a pink fluffy robe that I hadn't seen around the club.

Too tired to question it, I allowed him to drape it over me, carefully pulling my hands through the sleeves as a mother would do to their child.

He walked me to the changing room, my legs still weak from my mountainous orgasm.

"Which locker is yours?"

I pointed at mine and weakly told him the code as he took my duffel bag out and shuffled through it for my clothes.

He didn't meet my gaze as he changed me, his hands quick and professional, not lingering on any places as he made quick work.

He quickly exited the room without any goodbye, leaving me still slightly stunned as I stood in the middle of the room and slowly closed my locker and zipped my duffel, slinging it over my shoulder as I reached for the door.

I suppose that's what I should expect.

Nearing the exit I heard him call out to me.

"Ophelia."

I turned around, still in a daze, to see him with a mug and a bottle of something in his hand.

"Where are you going?"

It took me a moment to reply,

"Home?"

He stood in the doorway across the room, slightly stunned by my dismissal.

"I'm making tea, stay a little longer." He said, slowly crossing the room in long, practised strides.

I couldn't help but feel shocked by his admission.

Tea?

He's making tea?

"I- uh, no thank you, I'm okay," I managed a full sentence.

His face didn't show any expression at my rejection but he handed me the bottle and at a closer look, it was a type of cream.

"I don't think the marks will get irritated but just in case they do, apply this."

I shoved it in the pocket of my bag, thankful I wouldn't have to buy a cheap bottle from the drugstore that would do more damage than good.

"Okay."

He placed a hand on my shoulder as I turned away a second time, stopping me from leaving.

"Let me drive you home, at least."

At the end of my tether and accompanied with the thought of walking home, I hesitantly agreed.

He led me out to the car park and ushered me into an expensive-looking car that I didn't care to learn the name of and pulled out of the club and onto the street.

Watching the lights of passing buildings and people stumbling home, I fought the instinct to fall asleep, the exhaustion of the day catching up to me.

Thankfully, he didn't try to make any awkward conversation on the ride home and I hesitantly directed him to my apartment complex, not really wanting him to know where I lived, watching as the streets we passed became more run down and desolate.

I breathed a sigh of relief as he finally stopped in front of my complex and, thankful he didn't comment on how the building looked, I reached for the handle, muttering some goodbyes as I fled the car and walked the stairs up to my apartment.

As I crossed the threshold and dropped my duffel to the floor, I was greeted by Robbie, a worried look painted across his face.

"Robbie? Porque estas despierto? You should be sleeping." I scolded him as I brushed by him and into the kitchen.

Translation: Why are you awake?

When I entered the kitchen, I noticed another person sitting at the small dining room table, a worried look on their face and two duffle bags on the floor next to them.

"Angel?"

I tried to mask my shock as she looked at me with teary eyes.

"I didn't know where else to go." 

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wowwww this took a long time for me to publish

is alessandro growing on you or is he still an asshole?

forgive me? 

okay bye