The green of his irises was quickly being eclipsed by his pupils. They didn't leave hers for a second, not even as he pushed forward. They both moaned as she stretched around the broad intrusion, and Connie couldn't stop a harsh groan from leaving her lips as her body arched. Her inner muscles clamped down on him, squeezed him tight, and refused to let him in.
He winked at her. “Resist all you want, it's not going to stop me.” His fingers fisted in the sheets, his body surging with a long, slow thrust that decimated her attempt to keep him out. “Halfway there, Con. Take me all the way.”
Only halfway? Jesus, she knew she was out of practice, but this was just absurd. Her toes were already curling as a precursor to orgasm, her pussy was adamant it didn't need a single inch more, and the submissive in her was rolling around on the floor, legs kicking in the air, screaming, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
She hated not having use of her hands. She could brace them against his hips, but she couldn't push him away. Couldn't hold onto him, onto anything. She was helpless, her body rocking in time with his careful thrusts, her hips twisting as the fullness inside her grew too much to bear. His eyes were the only thing holding her close.
He wasn't touching her. His hands weren't on her body, his body was barely in contact with hers except for the shaft stretching her open. He'd left her hands bound so she couldn't forge a connection with him. The fucker knew she'd need that connection, and he'd left her with only one option—to look him in the eyes and let him sift through her head while her thoughts were on display.
She pitied the submissive who would be the queen to his king.
Slowly, like a giant piston in a machine, Atticus began to move. Long thrusts that slapped his balls against her ass, building into shorter, harder repetitions. It stirred her nervous system into responding, but she didn't care about an orgasm. She felt detached and cold and numb.
Horribly, horribly alone.
Her gaze drifted to the left, her head following. There was nothing she could do to ignore the jerk of her body, but she had ways of cutting herself off from reality. Living with Evan had given her an opportunity to perfect the technique of leaving the physical behind and finding solace in her mind.
“Bad girl,” Atticus chastised with a growl of disapproval. “Let me see those eyes, Constance.”
She felt her lips skew, her expression struggling to contain the barrage of tears wobbling her lower lip. The first tears wet her eyelashes. Her hands went limp, falling to the sheets as a sign of surrender. Her body followed suit, unwilling to keep up pretenses when she was dying inside. “Just finish and leave, Atticus,” she whispered tightly, her voice utterly defeated.
“Eyes,” he insisted, driving deep enough into her that she felt a vague twinge of pain. He held himself perfectly still, making pleased noises as her pussy spasmed around his cock. “Your eyes, my eyes. No evasions. Look at me, little sub.”
It would be over faster if she obeyed. With that in mind, Connie turned her face back to his, reluctantly meeting those green eyes. They searched hers, and he sighed heavily. “Give me something, Connie. Anything. Spill one little secret so I can make you feel better.”
More tears escaped, but there was nothing she could do about them. Shaking her head, she pressed her lips together to stop the sob building in her chest from bursting free. But her eyes popped wide when he just shrugged those massive shoulders and shifted position, altering how his pubic bone pressed down on hers. He fucked her, the new angle ensuring her clit took plenty of impact as her pussy took a pounding.
In under two minutes, he had her toeing the line of orgasm. She straddled it, her body quivering as it prepared to take the leap, and her brain not even registering the pulses of pleasure. Still, it hurt when he pulled out, leaving only the crown inside her. It hurt to be on that line and to be yanked away from it.
“What's eating at you more, Con? Bodie and her pregnancy? Archie turning to homicide? Alicia falling into depression, with you on her heels? Maybe it's all the shit at work, maybe it all stems back to Evan and his perverted games of cruelty.” His huge frame shook with the effort of holding himself over her. “Do you think I don't want to touch you, Con? That I enjoy not feeling you beneath me, not feeling your hands on me? There's one huge emotion jumping out from those gray eyes of yours, little sub. Abandonment.”
She choked on a sob. If her hands had been free, she'd have used them to batter his chest with the unfairness of this whole situation. She wanted to be outraged by the fact he was delving into her as though she was an open book, but all she could do was cry. She hated herself for the weakness. “They left. I told them to go, and they just left me.”
“Hmmm. Kevin and David.”
“They were mine. I loved them and took care of them, I taught them how to submit. They were part of me, a huge part of me, and they didn't even try and change my mind.” More tears, more words wrenched from her as the floodgates opened. Too exhausted to hold the gates closed, Connie wept for the loss of two men who hadn't loved her the way she'd loved them. It was always the same story. “They walked away and didn't look back. Not even a token protest.”
“You didn't think we could help you with that?” For the first time, Atticus pressed his lips to the corners of her trembling mouth. “Being abandoned isn't something that just happens to subs, Con. You know that. Why didn't you talk to us, any of us?”
“Because I'm a Domme, and a psychologist, and I'm supposed to be able to handle this by myself.”
“Bullshit. If I have my way, you'll be scening as a sub until you get your fucking head set straight. There's being strong, and there's being stubborn.” Atticus drove into her, hard, and stole her breath before the next sob could. “Being a psychologist doesn't mean everyone can pile their shit onto you and leave you to flounder. It's about balance, for you and your patient.” He shifted his weight onto his forearm and reached down to unclip the chains on her cuffs. “From now on, you'll wear my cuffs, Connie. You'll wear them every fucking time you're at Avalon, and you'll remember that you're not alone, that you don't have to handle anything by yourself. You'll remember you're part of a family, and this family doesn't abandon its people.”
She threw her arms around his back, clinging to him desperately. Never had she been so relieved to feel another body against hers, skin warm under her hands. She didn't let go even when he pushed off the bed, standing tall so she stuck to him like a limpet, her weight pushing her down further on his cock. She grunted in discomfort, but only tucked her face against his shoulder.
Atticus walked to the corner post of the bed, braced her back against the cool wood. “This family stands strong as a team, not just as individuals. Reach up and grab the ring, Connie. That's it,” he murmured in approval when she hesitantly released him and lifted her hands to grasp the tie ring embedded in the wood. “That smart brain's tired now, isn't it? Quiet and calmer. You earned your reward.”
He ravaged her. Mouth on her breasts, her throat, he left a swath of beard burn in his wake, but it only added to the sensations he roused in her. His hands molded her curves, cupped her ass, travelled over her as his cock hammered into her, bruising her muscles as he took her to the edge of orgasm and tossed her over the peak. Before she could recover enough to take a breath, he drove her up again, using his strength and stamina to keep the pleasure rolling through her until he gripped her hips tightly and bared his teeth as he came.
Chapter Three
The rocking chair squeaked when it moved.
Honestly, Connie couldn't blame it. She'd given more than a squeak with Atticus's powerful frame on top of her. Bundled in a blanket on his lap, the motion of the chair was soothing—combined with his scent and his warmth, she found the tumultuous chaos in her mind settling, offering peace she hadn't felt in forever. Her fingers flexed against his bare chest.
He'd ripped the rug from under her feet, but she knew his game. The man was a Master for a reason, and orgasms were his skill. If he thought he could keep doing t
his—manipulating her submissive side to expose her—then he had her at a disadvantage, hooked on the sex alone. She just had to be stronger, that was all. Shove that needy bitch back into her closet and padlock the damn door, and give total authority to the Domme.
Atticus continued to rock, his hand stroking her hair in time to the rhythm of the chair. “That needy bitch is going nowhere, Connie. You need her more than you realize, and I like playing with her.” His chuckle reverberated under her cheek. “How are you feeling?”
No talking. Connie pretended to be asleep, silently admonishing herself for letting her mouth talk without the appropriate mental supervision. She needed to make sure that didn't become a habit around him, otherwise there was nothing he wouldn't know.
“It's okay, you don't have to talk. We'll just sit here like this until you're ready.” The chair rocked a little harder, a little faster, and the big lummox began to hum quietly. This was his forte, his purpose in life. Nurturing was his dream, and he did it so well.
“Atticus,” she murmured.
“Mmmn. Yes, Connie?” He sounded as though he was half-asleep himself, lost in contentment.
Connie shifted restlessly, feeling the heat from the flogging reignite as the blanket brushed over her tender skin. Her thighs were aching like a bitch, her pussy felt swollen and bruised. She wouldn't be able to walk out of this room without people knowing what they'd been doing. “Thank you, for this. But it's a one-time-only deal. I have a reputation as a Domme that I can't lose. I don't want to be looked at like I don't belong, as if I can't decide whether I'm Dominant or submissive.”
“Mmm-hmmm.” He patted her back gently, rubbing her shoulders.
That was it? That was all the response he was going to give her? With a huff, Connie eased her sore body into a sitting position, prepared to slide off his knees and get dressed. She was stopped by his hand clamping down firmly on her nape. The dominance of the gesture made her wet. Again.
“That's what you're worried about. How everyone is going to react to you being a Switch? Huh.” His expression was thoughtful when she risked a glance at his face. “You're more concerned about people and their reaction to something that has nothing to do with them, than you are about falling into depression, isolating yourself from the ones who love you, and possible attempts at taking your own life. Fascinating.”
“I'm not suicidal,” she exclaimed, shocked he would think so.
Atticus lifted an eyebrow, then picked her up and shifted her so she sat astride his thighs in the oversized rocker. He tucked the blanket around her shoulders to keep the chill off her warm skin, then nudged her chin high enough to meet her eyes. “You're a psychologist, Connie. Enlighten me—what happens when a person becomes swamped by the rigors of life and the shit just keeps on coming? What happens when they reach a point where they can't see anything but the clusterfuck? What are their options?”
She closed her eyes. “Therapy—”
“I'm not stupid, little sub. Therapy only works if the patient wants help, and you're too fucking stubborn to see you need it. How many more months of being snowed under by stress and anxiety can you take before you start drinking, start taking prescription drugs to get through a damn day? How many more months after that before you overdose for the first time?” His voice grew harsher, more emphatic, as he bombarded her with questions. “How long before you make a mistake and kill yourself?”
She shook her head vehemently. Just because it had crossed her mind—very, very briefly—didn't mean she had any intention of doing something stupid. She'd seen the consequences of suicide, had spoken with people who had lost loved ones and dealt with the aftermath of losing someone special. She couldn't put anyone, particularly the ones she loved, through that hell. “Come on, Atticus. You know me.”
He nodded slowly. “I do. Just as I've known people as good and sweet and innocent as you. It didn't stop from them doing the unthinkable, Connie. It doesn't matter how smart or capable you are, how happy you seem on the outside. All that matters is what you've got cooking on the inside, and sweetheart, you're in trouble.”
Connie rolled her eyes impatiently. He was far too astute sometimes. “Att, I have too many people relying on me to do something moronic like find everlasting fucking peace. I've got a new patient starting on Monday morning, a young girl who's an insomniac. I've got case files coming out of my ears. And that's just professionally, it doesn't even cover the people here or Alicia. Me being dead wouldn't help anybody.”
He grabbed her face, his jungle-green eyes boring into hers with an intensity that shook her down to the bones. “Do you think depression gives a shit whether or not you're busy, Connie? All the branches of the crap weighing you down are sprouting from one tree. If the branches get too heavy, they'll pull the tree down, and it will be the end of you. We need to remove those branches, cut them off, before it's too late. So, no, right now I don't give a fuck if your priority is keeping your orientation a secret from the world. Mine is to make sure you stay alive.”
“Is that a threat?” she asked, her lip curling.
“Would you like it to be?” he retorted pleasantly. “If you don't want me as your temporary Dom, that's fine. My dick might be offended after the stellar effort he put in tonight, but he'll get over it. I know Loki and Liam threw their hats into the ring, so they would take care of you. Jasper offered his services as well, but the sadism might not be easy to swallow, especially seeing as he's as much of an ass man as I am.”
The color drained out of her face, leaving it chilled. She made herself laugh, brushed it off as nonsense. “Now I know you're bullshitting. Jasper's happy with Anarchy; he's not going to stick his oar in this mess. Besides, he couldn't top me. None of them could.”
“Why not?” Atticus slid his hand under the blanket and along her thigh until he touched her swollen labia. “I did, and I will again. Anarchy loves you and she gave J permission to do whatever he needs to do in order to get you back on track.” He petted her folds, arousal darkening his eyes further as she slickened his fingers. “I know there's a lot of people who think sex and kink aren't an appropriate method of dealing with traumatic events. I'm not a shrink, not a psychologist, but I say fuck them. I'm willing to deal with this by any means that work.”
“Att, I'm not a basket case,” she said on a sigh. The voice in her head chanted, Liar! Liar! “I—ow!”
The soft fondling of her sex was replaced with the savage clench of his thumb and forefinger on her clit. He pinched it hard, raising her up onto her knees with a confused whimper, adding a little twist to drive his message home. “Still in my space, Connie. I've let more than one slip of the tongue pass—no more. Master or Sir, those are your choices when we're in this room. Understand?”
Quivering, kneeling straight up now, Connie was mortified by the whine crawling through her vocal cords. Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails biting into the thick ridges of muscle, as her hips shuddered with a mixture of pain and pleasure. “No. I'm not…I'm not…” Her breath fluttered in harsh pants as his grip tightened. “Yes, Sir! I'm sorry, yes, Sir!”
“This isn't the way I like giving aftercare, little sub, and I don't appreciate you putting me in the position of reprimanding you after such an enjoyable scene.” He rubbed his fingers together, almost twirling her tortured nub. “You and I are going to have ground rules, Connie. You need boundaries.”
Christ, she was ready to agree to anything if he didn't let her clit go. The pain had morphed into something else, but the moment he released her clit, all the blood would rush back into her poor bundle of nerves, and send her through the roof. Worse, he knew exactly what a prolonged clit clamp would do.
“Number one: this room is at our disposal whenever we need it. I'm claiming it as your safe space, Connie. Yours.” He lifted his other hand to clasp her throat, his fingers adding just enough pressure to make her squirm uncomfortably. “Number two: in here, you're submissive to whoever takes you under their command. Be it me, Jasper, Loki,
whoever. The Domme stays at the door.”
She nodded frantically.
“Number three: you'll trust me. No matter what the scene, you'll trust me to look after you, and know that I'm doing things for a reason. Safewords apply always. Hard limits will be abided by.” His thumb tapped thoughtfully on her pulse. “Number four: this arrangement stays in place until we're both satisfied your mental health has improved, until we find you a suitable and more permanent Dom to give you consistent sessions, or until we decide otherwise.”
“Yes, Sir.” Her head was buzzing. “Anything you say.”
“Good girl,” he crooned, releasing her throat. “We'll go over them again when your faculties are back in order, just to be sure.” He slipped his hand around to the small of her back, grinning wickedly.
Jasper isn't the only goddamn sadist in Aval--oooooh. Connie's eyes rolled back in her head on a moan, feeling the tightness on her clit lighten, then disappear altogether. She barely had a moment to register his hands were supporting her back and hips before a thick pulse of sensation throbbed into her nervous system, using her clit as the conduit.
It wasn't quite enough to give her an orgasm, but the ride was worth the discomfort.
Hips bucking, she sought desperately for something to fill her, to satisfy the ache inside her. But the tide of almost-there pleasure passed without fruition, and she sagged against Atticus's chest with a breathless groan. “You'd have let me come if I'd called you Master, wouldn't you?”
Atticus gave her a loving pat on the ass. “Absolutely. Might be worth remembering that next time, little sub.” He kissed the top of her head, then lifted her off the rocker and set her on her feet. When she swayed and set her hand on his shoulder for balance, he steadied her. “I'm not ashamed of what we're doing here, Connie. I hope you're not either. Should you decide you want to bring the situation to light, I'll be right behind you. A Switch isn't a lesser being, however much you believe so.”
Talk For Me: Club Avalon Book 3 Page 6