The Darkness Within Him: The Untwisted series Page 5

  ‘Nicholas … I think I’m going to come …’ I warned him weakly, my voice sounding strained and pathetic as I clutched at the piano with trembling fingers.

  Pausing, he tilted his head. ‘So soon?’ he asked curiously, his hands continuing their torture but at a slightly slower pace and his leg relenting from its rubbing. Yes, so soon! I wanted to scream out; it had been bloody ages since I’d been with a man and even then, they’d never aroused me as startlingly quickly as Nicholas had managed to, but thankfully that’s not what came out of my mouth.

  ‘Yes … sorry, but … what you’re doing is … oh God …’ I knew I was rambling, but I could feel myself building closer and closer. All I really wanted was him inside me, desperately. Nicholas, however, had other ideas. After dropping a short, hard kiss on my lips, he returned his attention to my nipples, increasing the tempo and rubbing his thigh faster and harder against my groin until I exploded in a climax, groaning out his name and gripping the piano with all my might.

  ‘You are so sensitive, so responsive …’ he said, again seeming pleased by my almost violent response to his touch.

  Floating on a cloud of post-orgasmic bliss, I was brought back to earth when Nicholas suddenly left my breasts bereft of his touch and pulled me to him for another deep kiss. Apparently, he wasn’t finished with me yet because his right hand skilfully pulled up my skirt. Somehow, he managed to tug my knickers down one-handed until I felt them fall around my ankles.

  If I had thought his leg on my groin felt good it was nothing compared to the sensations that spiralled through me as his hand dipped under my skirt. In fact, I was so turned on that I very nearly climaxed a second time at the first touch of his fingers brushing through the hair at the apex of my thighs. When he found my expectant nub and circled it slickly with his thumb, I whimpered pathetically and parted my legs further for him.

  How was he doing this? I didn’t think I’d ever been this wanton in my whole life.

  ‘Jesus, Rebecca, you’re so wet …’ Nicholas hissed against my neck as two of his fingers slipped along my damp lips and began to explore inside me. Even though I knew moistness was a good thing, I blushed with embarrassment from his words. ‘Turn around,’ he ordered firmly. Thankfully, my wobbly legs just about managed the job. ‘Lie forward across the piano,’ he instructed in a husky tone and I did, glad of the support the cool wood offered to my trembling body.

  There was the noise of a zip, then the rip of a condom packet as I felt his leg gently nudge at my knees, pushing them wider. Thank God, Nicholas was on the ball enough to think of contraception, because I had been so caught up in the moment that it had totally slipped my mind. Then, before I really knew what was happening, he gripped my hips and thrust into me in one long, swift movement that made me feel fuller than I had in a very long time.

  ‘Aggh!’ I cried out in relief. Oh, that felt so good, just what I needed to release the frustration that had built up within me. I’d wanted this for weeks.

  My own blatantly sexual realisation startled me slightly; I had wanted Nicholas inside me for weeks.

  After pausing for a second to control himself, he began to move, pulling his length slowly out before thrusting back into me hard and fast. Tantalizingly, he repeated this several times, and before I could do anything about it, I came again, very loudly, my body clenching around him as lights seemed to blind me and waves of intense pleasure swept through my trembling body. God, that had been even better than the first one.

  It occurred to me that I had barely lasted a minute with him inside me: how embarrassing. ‘Sorry …’ I mumbled weakly, then felt him pull out of me. Oh no! He wasn’t going to continue because I’d come so quickly! But, contrary to what I thought, he turned me round to face him and once again settled me on the lid covering the piano keys, his eyes blazing with desire.

  ‘You’re incredible. I want to see you,’ Nicholas said simply, as if explaining the change of position. ‘Never apologise for an orgasm, Rebecca – there will be more to follow,’ he promised darkly.

  More to follow? Could I cope with more? But before I could speak, he settled himself between my legs once again and slid inside me with a low breath. This time, he controlled the movements by gripping my hips and using the shine of the wood below my bunched-up skirt to assist him in a smooth rocking motion. To break up his thrusts, he occasionally ground himself in a circular motion against me, and it was all I could do to cling to the piano and try to keep up with him. I soon realised what he had meant by more to follow, when I felt a third orgasm building deep inside me.

  This was sex like I’d never experienced it before: intense, passionate, and sweaty. Part of me wanted it to go on for ever, but another part knew I hadn’t had sex for a long time and wondered if my body could handle another orgasm like the last two.

  Sensing my imminent release, or perhaps his own, Nicholas suddenly increased the tempo, slamming into me repeatedly until, finally, my body gave up the battle and smashed into another body-shaking orgasm around him. I cried out his name, coming over and over again with each of his thrusts, clenching around him until I thought I could take no more. Finally, he buried himself even deeper inside me and climaxed with a low groan against my neck.

  Thank goodness the grand piano weighed a lot and wouldn’t roll, because Nicholas was collapsed against me, panting, and I was slumped back against the lid feeling both breathless and boneless.

  Several moments later, he peeled himself back and eased out of me, causing me to wince slightly, before he disposed of the condom in a bin to his left, tucked his softening manhood back inside his trousers, and gently rearranged my skirt for me.

  We hadn’t even removed any clothes! Talk about fast and furious.

  ‘Did you enjoy that, Rebecca?’ Nicholas asked softly, running a hand through my hair as I clung to him, trying not to sag to the floor as my body wanted to. God, I was exhausted.

  ‘Yes … more than enjoyed,’ I murmured, still dazed from the intensity of it. I had never had sex like that before in my life. Who knew it could be so good?

  ‘You’re very … assertive, Nicholas. Why is that?’ I observed, still gripping his shoulder.

  ‘You noticed,’ he said, trying and failing to hide the ironic smile that rose to his lips. ‘That’s why this won’t happen again. I’ll be upfront with you and trust you to keep this to yourself …’ But then he paused, narrowing his eyes as though considering if I were worthy of his trust, before giving a short laugh. ‘You wouldn’t tell anyone, it would implicate you,’ he said, confusing me. ‘I like control when I fuck. You may not have heard the term but I’m what you call a dominant, Rebecca, and the women I have sex with understand this. I do … different things with them, it’s what they like, but it wouldn’t be suitable for you.’ His eyes held mine but I couldn’t help but frown at his words.

  So this was definitely a one-off, then. I actually felt quite disappointed, but who wouldn’t after sex like that? And what did he mean he was a dominant? He was right, I hadn’t heard the term before, but it sounded kind of kinky, as if he took what he wanted when he wanted it. But if it was anything like what we’d just done on the piano, why wouldn’t I be suitable?

  ‘Oh.’ I straightened my back, slightly affronted by his assumption. ‘Why wouldn’t I be suitable?’

  He smiled a dark and slightly scary smile. ‘Curious thing, aren’t you?’ he murmured, his gaze wandering over me probingly. ‘Let’s just say that the women I fuck do what I want and don’t ask lots of questions like you do.’

  ‘Oh,’ I mumbled, blushing. That had been the best sex I’d ever had and now I knew it wasn’t going to be repeated. Damn. Deep down, part of me began to put together a plan, wondering if I could change his mind somehow.

  I was pretty sure I was dreadful at flirting and never in my life had I attempted the art of seduction, but, somehow feeling brasher and braver after our intimate liaison on the piano, I raised an eyebrow and rubbed my hips provocatively against Nicholas’
pelvis as I moved away from him to leave.

  ‘That’s a shame, Nicholas; I had hoped you might be up for an encore. Never mind, if I’m too much for you to handle I should probably just go,’ I said teasingly, my heart pounding in my chest. Rather proud of my witty little reference to his musical lifestyle, I smiled to myself as I turned for the door.

  Before I’d even taken two steps, I felt a sharp tug on the back of my T-shirt and suddenly I was pinned against Nicholas’ hard body, my back to his front. One of his strong arms wrapped around my waist, gripping me tightly to him, pinning my arms to my side and pretty much stopping me from moving at all. I couldn’t escape if I wanted to, so it was lucky that I didn’t want to, I thought with a triumphant smile. With his other hand, he tilted my neck roughly to the side and lowered his head so his lips were brushing against my earlobe.

  ‘Too much for me to handle?’ He laughed, deep and low. ‘Oh, but you’ve not met my alter ego yet, have you? Dominant Nicholas could definitely handle you,’ he whispered soothingly against my neck, but somehow his words were also full of a dark, sensual promise that made me quiver. ‘And I never turn down a challenge, Miss Langley; I think an encore can be arranged, if you’re sure you’re up to it?’

  A shiver of desire ran through me, laced with a touch of fear at the unknown implication behind his words. Was I up to it? Bedding a – what did he call himself? A dominant? What did that even involve?

  Without any warning, Nicholas let me go and took a step away from me, leaving me missing the warmth of his body. Confused, I turned to look at him and gasped. His eyes were blazing and desire was evident in the front of his trousers, but a calm arrogance seemed to be lurking in his expression. ‘I didn’t think so,’ he said, elegantly pushing his hands into his pockets and leaning sideways on to the piano, almost seeming to mock me.

  Seeing my obvious confusion, he smiled tightly. ‘Your hesitation told me what I needed to know, Rebecca. You feel unsure of me, as you should, my –’ he removed a hand from his pocket and waved it in front of him as he picked the best word ‘– lifestyle would not be suited to you. I’ll see you at next week’s lesson. See yourself out.’

  I winced at the steely tone in Nicholas’ voice and watched as an odd expression crossed his face, but it was gone too quickly for me to read. Then he turned, folded away the piano books, and stalked from the room, leaving me feeling breathless and confused but too unsure to call him back.

  He was certainly changeable, that was for sure: passionate and intense one second and then cold and condescending the next. I waited until I heard his footsteps fade away and a door close before I made my way out. As I wandered down the stairs, I was glad Mr Burrett wasn’t around to see my blushing face and wayward hair. Maybe he only worked for Nicholas during the day because I hadn’t seen him at all for the past few weeks. Relief washed over me as I sneaked to the door and let myself out into the cool evening air.

  As I made my way back through the open parkland of Primrose Hill, I decided that being near Nicholas Jackson was like standing on a seesaw: unpredictable, dangerous, and likely to get me tipped off and seriously hurt.

  Chapter Four

  Thankfully, the key to the shop door didn’t stick today, as it seems to do on a regular basis. I should probably get a locksmith out to fix it but I always forget until I’m stuck outside, cursing it in the cold or rain while I wrestle with its unrelenting form.

  As soon as I entered the shop I skipped my usual routine of standing just inside the threshold and sniffing the air – that makes me sound really weird but I love the smell of books: the inky, papery scent is just so relaxing that every day as I step into my shop I pause, inhale, and then smile to myself. Not today though: today I left the door unlocked for Louise who would no doubt arrive any minute, and then headed for my office, almost on the verge of tears again from my wandering thoughts about Nicholas.

  My bum had only just hit my chair when there was a knock at the door. It interrupted me from continuing my wallowing, which was just as well, really, because I could feel my throat tightening up as fresh tears gathered.

  ‘Come in,’ I muttered, rather unenthusiastically.

  Looking over at the door, I saw Louise stick her head in with a smile on her face that bordered on pitying. Oh God, here we go again, I almost groaned out loud. Louise was lovely, my friend as well as my colleague, but she was yet to realise quite how fragile I was. Sure enough, after one more benevolent glance from her I felt tears prick at the backs of my eyes again. Not that it was a hard feat to accomplish; tears never seemed more than a sneeze away right now.

  ‘Sorry!’ she squeaked, getting more flustered by the second. ‘I just wanted to say good morning and give you a cup of tea.’ She plonked down a steaming brew on the desk and hastily made for the door again.

  ‘Thanks, Louise,’ I murmured thickly. ‘And stop being so nice to me!’ I yelled after her with an ironic twist of my lips, hoping to finally get through to her.

  Wiping my pointless tears away, I remembered how I had really tried to put a lid on the sex side of things with Nicholas after the piano incident. As hard as it had been not to think of the mind-blowing interlude, I’d focused on work, which hadn’t been an entirely successful distraction, but I had been busy enough at the bookshop to just about convince myself that I didn’t need a sex life. Yeah, right.

  Three nights after my piano-tastic sex session, I had sat waiting for my computer to load so I could check my emails. As I gazed around my flat I had looked at all my usual stuff; comfy sofa, CDs, DVD collection, and photographs, all normal for me, and it had got me thinking about what things were normal for someone like Nicholas.

  Deep down, I’d known at the time I was venturing down a dangerous path, but instead of clicking on my email programme as planned, I clicked on the internet instead, immediately wondering what I should type to find out about his type of lifestyle.

  I had opened up a search engine and started by typing in what he had called himself. “Dominant”.

  The first result was a dictionary definition of the word – “Dominant, adjective: the most important, powerful, or influential” – and unsurprisingly it made no mention of anything remotely kinky or sexual. To be honest, I can’t imagine Collins get too many requests for a definition of a “sexual dominant” in mainstream society.

  As well as being too geeky to live somewhere as trendy and cool as Camden, I’m also too reserved to be searching for naughty things on the internet, or at least I thought I was. But as I nervously trawled through the other results, I found an article from an encyclopaedia that looked a bit more promising, so, biting my lip, I opened up the page and began to read.

  After just five minutes of reading, I sat wide-eyed and shocked. It was actually quite stunning just how much gory detail they put into these websites for any Tom, Dick or Harry to read. It had certainly been a learning curve. I had now learnt what Nicholas was. A dominant, apparently, was a term linked to sexual preferences or relationships that involved one partner with a predilection for overriding control instilling discipline within a relationship over another, referred to as a “submissive”. The submissive liked to be subservient to their partner, sometimes just sexually, but sometimes in all aspects of their life. So if I wanted to have sex with Nicholas again I’d have to be submissive, would I?

  Practically holding my breath, I had continued reading to see what that might entail. Relationships with dominant partners were often termed as BDSM relationships because they used bondage, discipline, submission, sadism, and masochism. Wow. This really should have been where I turned the computer off, but I hadn’t. After briefly leaping away from the screen thinking something along the lines of “holy cow”, but with slightly more explicit word choices, I stupidly sat back down, ignoring the lump of fear in my throat.

  Hindsight is a wonderful thing, isn’t it? I can sit here now in the aftermath of my crazy relationship with Nicholas and clearly see this research mission was a huge turning point fo
r my sanity. I should have walked away from the computer and Nicholas at this point, but like a complete fool I’d read on regardless. Always one to weigh up both sides of an argument, I remember thinking at the time that it seemed like these relationships could be balanced and pleasurable for both parties, but dominants could also use punishments if and when they saw fit, which sounded a bit scary to me, so I’d skimmed over that paragraph.

  Why, oh why had I not bothered to stop and read it? At the time, my subconscious had been diverting me away from the scary side of Nicholas’ life and trying to push the positives on me. Maybe if I had been more sensible and read the frigging paragraph on punishments I’d never have been stupid enough to enter into a sexual relationship with Nicholas Jackson and wouldn’t be sitting here now reliving it.

  I recall now that I had been almost at the point of throwing up from fear as I blindly continued my research that day, but I had at least read one sentence that vaguely reassured me. “ The fundamental motto used by many practitioners is SSC – safe, sane, and consensual, meaning the activities are safe and both parties are in agreement about what will be done.”

  That sounded relatively sensible and I remember thinking that if I could just persuade Nicholas that the “activities” we did were just normal sex then we’d be fine. Huh. Naive or what?

  Perhaps there is a part of me, deep, deep, down somewhere that is a little bit twisted like Nicholas, or maybe it’s just the curiosity of human nature, because once I had started reading that day I hadn’t been able to stop myself. I’d actually found it quite fascinating. Up until the point where I read a line that had caused me to pale significantly. “Because of the use of toys and punishments there is a fine line between safe and unsafe activities. For this reason both parties are advised to discuss preferences to avoid accidental harm …”

  Accidental harm? My sanity had returned at this point and I hadn’t bothered finishing this sentence; instead, I had hastily cleared my browser history, turned off my computer, and then taken a long shower to clean off the feel of smut that was lingering on my skin.