Storm Born Page 0,103

and weaves. The purple silk crisscrossed around my breasts, and each time his hand brushed some sensitive part, a secret thrill would run through my body. What was the matter with me? If I could have these physical reactions, then why couldn't I have sex with him?

The binding took forever, just like always. It made me so impatient, but Dorian clearly enjoyed it. He worked with infinite patience, careful of every weave and knot. When he finally finished, he stood back and surveyed me, just as he had the last two times.

"Very nice," he observed, eyes taking me in.

A strange thought occurred to me as I sat there. I willingly let him do this to me, but really, it was a leap of faith. My arms might be free, but as he stood over me, I realized how helpless I was. How totally in his power I was if he wanted to abuse it.

But he didn't. He never did. After blindfolding me, I heard him fetch the water pitcher from the other room. Once it was apparently hidden, he returned to the bed. I heard the bed shift under his weight, the sound of more wine pouring out.

"Have at it," he said.

I focused just like I'd done in our last two lessons. My mind expanded, reaching out into the room, trying to find the water I supposedly had an affinity for. I repeated the same exercises, visualizing moisture and wetness. The way it felt and tasted.

Yet, when I pointed to where I thought the water jug sat, he told me I was wrong.

So I tried again. Three more times, to be precise. Failures each time.

I heard him yawn. "Would you like to call it a night? I dare say this bed is big enough for us to sleep chastely in. Or, if you wish, I have no qualms about sleeping on the sofa in the other room."

"No," I said stubbornly. "I want to try again."

"As you like."

Again, I went through the motions, hating them yet burning with need. I wanted to do this. I wanted to control the power. I might have failed at sex tonight, but I would not fail at -

"It's there," I said suddenly.

"Where?"

I pointed, and in my outstretched hand, I could almost feel something wet. It was so easy. How had I not noticed this before?

"It's right beside you. Really close. If you're still lying on the bed, I'd say...elbow level. Maybe on the table."

He stayed quiet.

"Well? I'm right, aren't I?"

"Check the rest of the room."

My hopes crumbled. "I was wrong again."

"Just check. See if the water is somewhere else."

I didn't get his game. Why the vagueness? Had I found it or not?

But I tried again, reaching out into the room. That spot near him pulsed to my senses. The water was there, I knew it. So what was this all about?

Another spot suddenly called out to me. I reached for it without using my hands this time, and that same strong pulsing reached back. And with that sensation came a slight tingle, only a spark, but it whispered of the power I'd felt in the dream-memory.

"Okay. Right by the door. On the floor, I think."

"Yes." The response was surprisingly simple and clear. No jokes or games.

"Right? I'm right? Really? You're not just messing with me so we can go to bed?"

I heard his soft laugher as he walked to the door and then approached me. Taking my hand, he dipped it down into a ceramic pitcher, and I felt cool water slide over my hand. I laughed, ecstatic and empowered. I felt like splashing it on both of us.

"So what'd I find the first time then? By the bed? It must have been something, judging from your reaction."

"Indeed it was."

He took the pitcher away, walked toward the bed, and returned to me. I felt his arm move toward me, and then the scent of something strong and fruity touched my nose.

"The wine," I realized. "I found the wine."

"Yes. Quite remarkable too, considering I'd almost drank it all." He set the decanter down and untied my blindfold. "Now, my dear, it's time to go to sleep."

He knelt before me and started the tedious process of undoing all those ties and knots. I waved my free hands.

"You want help?"

He shook his head. I could smell the wine on him. "No. Leave me my simple pastimes, please."

"Are you drunk?"

"Probably."

He worked steadily on freeing me from the cords, his fingers a little less precise than they'd been earlier.