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“No, sir. That well-trained.”
And God, she had been. Eleanor stood still, kept her body loose and slack and breathed through the pain like a pro. Of course, the mild beating he inflicted on her probably paled in comparison to what her owner did to her. But her willing submission to the pain, to him, the trust she showed letting him bind her to the bedpost…
After, he’d dropped the flogger, pressed his chest to her back, pushed into her hard and deep. Her wetness and heat enveloped him. Before Eleanor came to him, he’d been celibate for three long and lonely years. That night he was determined to make up for lost time.
Right before coming he wrenched himself away from her, picked up the flogger and beat her again. Harder this time, hard enough she finally let out a real grunt of pain. And that sound hit him harder than his flogger hit her. Again he thrust into her and as he thrust, he felt himself clawing his way out of the ground, the dirt falling away, the fresh air of the wide world filling his lungs. With every brutal movement he came more back to life, more back to himself again.
Finally, he released her from her bonds and dragged her to the floor. In an instant he was on her and in her.
After he came, he tried crawling off her, found he didn’t have the energy, and merely collapsed onto her prone body. He started to apologize for going too far, for losing control. But once again he heard that laugh. That incredibly erotic laugh. Homer, he decided then and there, had gotten all it wrong. The sirens of ancient lore were singers. The real siren’s song was a laugh.
“What?” he’d asked, kissing the back of her shoulder.
“Now that,” she said, stretching out underneath him, seemingly fully content to let him stay inside her all night, “was poker.”
He’d laughed. This girl even made bad puns during sex.
Daniel couldn’t run anymore.
He jogged to a water fountain and drank himself sick. Then he splashed water on his face and ran it through his hair. After, he was too wet and sweaty for a taxi so he walked back to his building in Lenox Hill. He’d strip naked the second he got home. Take a shower, pour a whiskey, drink himself into a stupor. Tomorrow—lather, rinse, repeat.
Stalking through his apartment, he pulled his shirt off on the way to his bedroom. In the doorway he paused when he found a naked girl kneeling with her back to him on his bed.
Long black hair, voluptuous body… Now where had he seen that before?
“Irina—how did you get in here?” he asked, surprised but not entirely displeased to see his beautiful Russian again.
The girl turned her head and gave him a wicked grin. “Did you miss me?”
“God. Eleanor.”
6
Daniel could barely breathe from the shock. Eleanor…naked…kneeling on his bed and grinning at him like the last eighteen months had been the setup to a bad joke, and finally, here she was to deliver the punchline.
“Nope, just me. God’s out today.”
Daniel took nearly ten whole seconds to process Eleanor’s words, but it only took one second to get to her. He slid across the bed and took her into his arms.
“You…what are you doing here?” He held her tight to his chest, stroked her hair, her back.
“You sent me a postcard from Tierra del Fuego. The least I could do is stop in and say, ‘Hello.’”
Daniel took her face in his hands. Her eyes shone black as night and her body molded into his.
“Hello.” Then he took ownership of her mouth with a kiss so ferocious he knew her lips would be swollen for a day from it. He didn’t care. If this is how she returned the favor of a single postcard…he wished he’d sent her a thousand of them.
His hands roamed her body, sliding down her back, grasping her bottom, digging deep into her soft skin. The kiss she returned with equal ferocity as she reached between their bodies to open his pants.
“Are you sure?” he asked, afraid of her answer.
“I’m naked on your bed. Did you think I stopped by for a game of blackjack?”
“The game is poker.”
Eleanor laughed, and her laughter filled the room, the apartment, the building, the whole city, and even his heart that for so long had sat empty.
Weaving his fingers through her hair, he kissed her again. And again. He couldn’t get enough of her mouth, the taste of her lips, the tease of her tongue against his.
