tagBDSMAuto Erotica Ch. 10

Auto Erotica Ch. 10

bymadam_noe©

Every attempt at a question was cut off as we drove to his home. Again we slid into the underground garage and were shut into the dark.

He undid my cuffs but growled as I looked around and contemplated escape. "After your friend's last stunt I let the staff go for vacation. It's just you and me here, Aileen." With that he jammed the cuffs back into the glove box, surprising me.

I shivered, scared while wondering what came next, and slowly opened my own door. He waited for me until I followed him into the house, his hand outside his pocket, covering my gun menacingly.

"P-"

"Not one word," he said as he had done with every attempt of mine to speak in the last fifteen minutes. I sighed and followed him down a hall and waited as he pressed a button by some French doors and then opened a security panel.

The code was entered and secured, it was too dark to see it. I felt trapped, and then the doors parted. I'd been expecting perhaps a dungeon but what I got was a large personal elevator.

The marble was rose and gold, there was a marble-tile-topped table in the middle. He pushed the button for three and the doors closed leaving us in dim romantic light.

For a wild moment I couldn't help but wonder at the number of women who'd taken this ride before me. This was posh, well designed, and hell if I liked him better I probably would have hopped up on the table and demanded he take me there.

I caught his reflection in the mirror trim and he was smiling. Bastard.

The doors opened and we emerged on the top floor. The lights were off, casting shadows as he took me to his bedroom. The walls were dark wood paneling, very Edwardian I knew, and hid shadows too well. I couldn't outrun him in the hall, so I was going to have to wait.

Inside his room he turned on the light and again I felt lost just as I had the last time I'd been inside. The light came from a large chandelier, clearly crystal, and it hung over the center of the room. The cream carpeting was plush beneath my boots, the navy walls looked satiny.

His dark mahogany furniture was sparse in the main room, merely a bed, a bench at the foot, a chest of draws supporting a bar, and two chairs beside a table under the large picture window.

The window was open to the city noise and if I had to, I could go out it down twenty feet to the porch roof.

There was a large arched doorway leading to a dressing room and his bathroom, no escape there.

Patrick locked the door behind me and I turned to see a shiny new lock, one that required a key on the inside to lock it. He stretched up with his arms onto the tips of his toes and slid the key onto a ledge too high for me to reach. He turned down the lights and went from being a demon in moonlight to a devil.

My phone joined the key on the ledge, my gun he stuck in the chest of draws and locked it tight. The message was clear; I was fucked.

So when he came towards me I dug in my heels and tried to look bigger, prepared to fight my way out. "You kn-know what happened to the last asshole who tried to f-fuck me without consent. I'm not p-playing around." Shit, my voice broke.

Without speaking he stepped past me, peeling off his leather jacket as he went. It landed on the plush bench revealing a holster over his navy shirt. The gun in it was large, and flashed as he crossed back to the chest and poured himself a scotch, neat.

He swallowed it one go and didn't bother to offer me anything. "I joined the Marines at seventeen. I didn't go to college, much to my family's shame. Wanted to work my way up, didn't want to start as an officer."

I leaned against on of his bed's posts and took a deep steadying breath, unsure of what the rules were to this new game. "What do I care?"

He sighed and gave me a withering look. "I was at Pendleton as a recruit. Long story short, I found out some guys on base were selling weapons. I tried to stop one, we got into a fight, I won, he died. I got pinched for murder and trafficking weapons. I did three years of a fifty year sentence when I got a deal.

"They thought I had contacts which I didn't, and offered me a clean record if I tracked down the buyers for them. I got that clean record, put away twenty scumbags, and came up with a recommendation.

"When I got home I joined the force, severed contact with my family. The money I have is mine, left to me by my grandfather, the rest I've earned. I've worked my way up to detective undercover, the shop has let me into many worlds; drugs, extortion, gang activity. I'm well decorated."

"Bully for you," I said but inside I was softening. This wasn't the spoiled rich kid I'd assumed. He was no nice guy, but he wasn't a total bastard. Didn't matter; he was still a cop. And cops always wanted something from people like me. Usually my friends, or worse, my enemies.

"I guess I'm supposed to feel sorry for you, promise to help you collect all the LC in town."

"No."

I almost laughed at his expression. Serene, arms folded, eyes tired. "No?"

He shook his head and his dark hair tumbled. "No. The cops and everyone else think that's what I'm after, but I'm only after one person."

Fear for my freedom began to crawl up my spine. "Who?"

"Someone is working for the LC, feeding them department information. This got my last partner killed just three months ago. Gunnar, his replacement, is helping me."

I almost choked. "You don't think I have anything-"

"Not you, Aileen. You're clean. No, but every attempt we've made to penetrate the LC has met with failure. My orders were to get into the racing scene, see who would take on the LC. When it was you Gunnar was supposed to get close to you, no one knew we'd already..."

"Fucked?" I said callously. "Gee you sure do plan ahead."

"Hey, you raced me, you made the challenge sexual, all right?" His jaw was ticking, a sign I'd learned meant he was on the edge. "That's not the point, the point is we're wrapped up in some dangerous shit."

"Well how the fuck would I know who's working for them? All I know is they send a few scouts out, and when they take over a town drugs triple. It wasn't like that when I ran, and no one I ran with is still alive."

"Aileen I'm not going to lie to you but that tattoo on your back says someone there has to be willing to talk to you. Listen these people, Aileen, do you know why they let you join?"

I rolled me neck and wished I could take my boots off, the spike heels were killers. "I'm called a cover. Nice, clean cut, good looking, white. Cops usually don't suspect us."

He nodded. "Exactly. Aileen their current cover somehow knows all our moves. We've got dead DEA agents, and the Bureau is breathing down our necks."

I raised my eyebrow. "Why aren't they out there racing? This is organized crime, not a matter for local cops."

He smoothed his hair back and gave me a daring look. "I break this case and I'm in the Bureau."

I gave a hoot of laughter. This was just getting worse and worse. "No wonder you said you could give me a new life. On Uncle Sam's dime. No thanks, Cr- Wolfe. Good luck finding your cover, but I know what you're going to ask and the answer is no."

"And just what am I going to ask?"

"You want an in. You want me to weasel my way back into an organization that has sworn to kill me. All that protects me is the fact the current runners don't know I ever was a part of that. They see my tat and I'm dead. As long as I'm simply Elle I'm safe."

"Damn it, Aileen. That's not why I raced you that one night, that's not why you're here."

"Then why am I here?"

"Because you're not safe and you have to get away. The LC are planning to kill you, they already know who you are. Do you know that?"

I snorted to cover the achingly deep fear that coursed like a comet through my veins leaving a trail of ice. "Why do you care what happens to me?"

"Because I love you."

The hard blood from my head dropped to my knees, leaving me in a vacuum. My leather felt tight, my knees almost buckled, and my vision swam in a swirl of cream and navy until all I saw was the dark god before me. "Fuck."

His jaw ticked, harder than before, and his eyes were hard as amber. "Just what every man longs to hear in response to the first time he says that."

"You manipulative bastard!" Pushing from the bed I lunged at him but he caught me with embarrassing ease. We struggled, I kicked, he bear-hugged, and soon enough he pinned my arms to my sides.

Trapped I stilled, and together we panted. This close, nose to nose, it felt intimate like a lovers pose. I breathed and he smelled like scotch and peppermints; combined with my leather it was homey, it was heady, I was lost. For a moment the thought of a kiss must have played in my eyes because he smiled that demon's smile.

"Let me go. Let me go home. Take a cold shower and get over yourself." I jerked back from his lips as I growled out the orders.

Instead he peeled off my trench and tossed it carelessly on the floor behind me. I felt naked, and suddenly regretted the short skirt and brief top. His eyes took it all in, warm as whiskey, and I felt naked.

"If you were my woman I'd never let you out of the house like that."

"Then it's a good thing I don't belong to anyone but myself."

He smiled in a way that moved up my spine. "We'll see."

He dragged me backwards to the bed and when the backs of my knees hit it I went down. He didn't fall with me instead he pinned my hands down and bent over me, watching, waiting much as I was.

He'd had chances to hurt me and yet he hadn't. He'd scared me, dragged me around, but he hadn't hurt me. I trusted him, and that's what scared me most of all.

"You said y-you'd l-let me go if I a-asked you to."

He jerked my hands until my wrists met and with one hand he pinned them down yet again, stretching me out on my back. His free hand dug between my tightly pressed legs and his fingertips stroked along my panties feeling the damp there.

"Convince me you don't want me to fuck you, to take you, to make you come when I want. Convince me, Aileen."

I whimpered at those words of domination, words I longed to hear. More fluid released from my body, priming me for an animalistic claiming, and my hips thrust against his hand, seeking more.

When he pulled away I almost cried out, bit my lip bloody to hold it in. "You're mine to do with as I wish," he said softly and yet it was edged with fierceness.

His hand now unbuttoned the leather vest and the heft of my breasts made the material gape until it was completely parted. Awkwardly he made me move until it was off and I sat there in my skirt, panties, and boots, blushing.

He knelt on the bed and I was forced back, moved up. Then Patrick straddled me, my arms pinned yet again. He reached to the nightstand for something and his gun came close to my nose. I eyed it warily, wondering, and then I felt the snap of fur-lined cuffs around my right wrist.

"What the fuck?"

He leaned down to smile at me, nose-to-nose. "No trick cuffs, sweetheart. Standard issue, though I softened them up with you in mind."

Against my will my nipples tightened into hard peaks even as rage suffused my face with blood. "I'll kill you."

He kissed me, quick and innocent, and lunged for the other hand. I struggled in vain; soon enough I was cuffed to the other bed post. I snarled at him, seeing red, too aroused and angry to form coherent words.

Patrick just sat back to survey his work and apparently I didn't fit.

Walking around to the foot of the bed he stopped and leaned forward. My skirt was peeled off like a fruit skin and tossed with my coat and vest on the floor. He smiled, but it apparently still wasn't enough, and then the boots were kicked away to the pile of clothing.

Resigned to the coming ravishment I let go of the fear and felt arousal course through my system. Darkly I was more thrilled than ever, hoping it would be rough, fast, and impersonal.

Wearing only my lilac panties, my arms pulled taut, my breasts heaved up, I knew, or at least hoped, that I made an erotic picture, but he just turned and left. His back disappeared into his dressing room and I heard cabinets and drawers being opened and closed.

My imagination went wild picturing crops and gags, but he emerged with only three thin black strips of fabric. His shirt was off, his feet were bare, and his jeans hung low and temptingly on his hips.

I squeezed my eyes shut to avoid drooling and heard him chuckle. "Easy enough," he said cryptically and then the bed dipped.

He raised my head and I opened my eyes to see him focus on letting my hair loose, arranging it widely across his pillow.

He concentrated as if I weren't there and when I whimpered his dark eyes flicked to mine. "In time, sweetheart."

I was lost. I hated him, but I desperately needed him. In that moment no one else on earth would have done. Somehow he knew it, somehow he truly owned me, and that made me hate him all the more.

And then he pulled it out. A Blindfold; one of the strips of fabric had the telltale curvature to fit comfortably around the nose and completely cover the eyes.

"No." I said flatly. "Don't do that; anything but that."

He leaned down to my ear and breathed heavily as he spoke. "I said you were mine, what part of that didn't you get?" Then he tweaked a nipple.

Without volition I arched up into that touch only to hear him laugh under his breath. I jerked my head side to side but he managed to get the blindfold on and secured it tightly with what felt like a complicated knot. I was plunged into darkness; no more mahogany bed, cream sheets and carpet, navy walls and blanket.

"Patrick, don't do this," I begged.

Upon hearing his first name he stopped. "Aileen I'd never hurt you. This is about trust. You won't give me yours so I'll have to prove to you it's there."

"How ironic," I said dryly, trying to pretend I wasn't terrified.

I felt him leave the bed, heard him move, but I couldn't place the sounds. I felt more vulnerable then ever before, and then he grabbed my ankle.

"Wait, stop, I'll do whatever you want just don't tie me completely up."

He responded by kissing the inside of my ankle and binding it tight. I moaned and begged but the other one was captured and bound the same.

At last I was frozen, barely able to move, and completely unaware of what was going on. The only warning I had was a slight dip in the bed and then he grabbed my panties and brutally ripped them off. I gasped, terrified; excited, waiting for the onslaught.

Instead I felt his fingers gently part my folds, and his tongue licked me gently. I cried out in shock and waited for pain, dominance, but there was none.

He slid between my legs and his hands went beneath me to cup my butt and raise me. It felt possessive and fierce but he made love to me with his mouth.

The act itself was so sweet, transposed on what began as a game of domination. He licked slowly and softly, tracing every fold and line, skirting the sensitive places that ached and swelled for him.

His tongue moved slowly and steadily, he moaned as if I tasted like fine wine, and then he buried his mouth in my pussy. He licked and sucked at the same time, the pressure steady. My body tightened, my breasts swelled, and I thrashed against my bonds fighting the rising orgasm, as violent as Patrick was gentle.

The forbiddance of normal overtook me and when he began to suckle at my clit, I came screaming. Waves of pleasure radiated from his mouth outward over my body, tingling my flesh as I struggled not to beg and plead for more.

I expected it to stop but he dipped his head again and it began anew. He never spoke, just moaned with pleasure at little things; the hitch of my breath, the moans I couldn't suppress, the roll of my hips against his face.

Twice more he brought me with his mouth alone, and then he used his fingers and tongue together. Three more that way until I was sweaty, sticky, panting, and sated yet desperate for more.

At long last his hard body covered mine and I cried out in relief. The bastard didn't take me, instead he laid across me heavily, settled firmly between my legs, his cock poised at my entrance.

"Aileen, I want to look into those violet eyes when I take you, but you need darkness. You need to concentrate on what you feel, on what I make you feel."

When he entered me it was as if he sank in. Inch by inch I was made to feel all he had. His arms were like steel bands around my rib cage, his legs were hairy and rough against my thighs. His abs rubbed me as that thick cock sank to the hilt.

I couldn't hold back, awash in sensation I crested, and screamed his name as I came. The simple pure joy of feeling completely filled by him was enough, and the emotions that came with the waves of pleasure were fireworks. I screamed mindlessly, wordlessly in frustration as I fought the feeling, the emotions that threatened to overtake me whenever he was near.

At long last I came down to a kiss on my lips that was gentle and tender, but left no doubt in either of our minds that he was claiming me.

Then he began to move and the swell of feelings was too much. He moved with the barest of thrusts, his hips swiveling more than thrusting, and then I was there. Just as I felt it, the final, the ultimate crest rise, he began to slam into me.

Blissfully when the orgasm overtook me, I passed out.

#

I awoke to the blindfold. I didn't know how much time had passed between the moment of coming to and the last time I'd passed out, but the window was open and LSD was quiet. It had to be the wee hours of the morning.

I tested my arms and felt I was still bound, but the binding was much looser. I rolled my shoulders, moaning with stiffness, and this made Patrick stir. At least I hoped, assumed, and prayed it was Patrick who palmed a breast and went back to light snoring.

I took a deep breath and counted his, listening for a pattern. Not much of one but when he sounded deep in sleep I began to work my left hand. It was more limber, less muscled, and the wrist more flexible.

After several minutes of blind, desperate fumbling and twisting I was free. The handcuff had scraped some skin but I was none worse for the wear.

I took off my blindfold to see the room was dark, the window open to the night. Patrick and I were naked, he was asleep beside me, and as I watched, breathless, he rolled onto his side, back to me.

Over his hip I saw my clothes were folded on the dresser, my boots in front of it, my panties in the trash, and my jacket on a chair beneath the window.

My right hand took twice as long to free and bled onto the sheets, but I managed to get it out. My left foot I freed easily but Patrick's feet laid on the binding leading from my right foot to the post.

After a long moment of concentration an idea took form and I carefully unwound my foot and wound the binding around his right foot loosely. All I'd have to do is give it one hard tug and he'd be bound.

I slipped from the bed and waited until he rolled onto his back, breaths steady. I repeated the binding for his left foot and then came up to the head of the bed.

On his nightstand stood the keys to the cuffs and carefully I opened the left one. It creaked and I froze, waiting, but no movement came.

I started to close it around his wrist, leaning over the bed, my breasts falling with my hair close to his face. I was moving quietly, carefully, but he was better.

Suddenly my hands where yanked and I tumbled across him. He was like steel and I could barely move from the crushing bear hug. Groaning in defeat I still struggled in the dim light.

"What the fuck?" I heard him say and his grip slackened in surprise. Taking advantage I crawled for the foot of the bed and yanked on the loose binding of his left foot, pulling it taut.

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