by Joey W. Hill
"Thanks." His look was wry, but after a moment's reflection, he removed the keys from his pocket and put them back in her hand. "It's your choice, but I'm asking you. Don't go on the date, Sam. I know what I said, and maybe it's true, you should give some other guy a chance, but I don't want you to do it. Since I've already been an asshole tonight, I might as well be a selfish bastard while I'm at it."
"You know what I was thinking when I was putting on my lipstick?"
"That you were going to torture my dick as much as possible before you left?"
She colored a little bit at the crude language. Geoff was regaining his composure. With it came that direct look that could swirl things in a lovely way down through her chest, to her lower abdomen and even farther. His gaze swept her. "Like this dress. You know it's the kind I particularly like to see you wear. Don't you?"
She nodded and his lips tightened. "What are you wearing under it? Tell me." His palm slid up a few more inches, his thumb on the seam between her thighs, and her legs loosened under that touch.
"Geoff . . . the neighbors--"
"Can't see anything. It's dark, we're in our driveway and I'm in front of you. I won't let anyone see you, Sam. I don't share, in case I wasn't clear on that topic."
"Not with anyone?" Her lips quivered in a near smile, a tight one because her pulse was speeding up. He'd dropped to one knee so he could lean farther into the doorway, his energy pressing in around her.
"You know the answer to that. Chris is different." His gaze softened. "I know where I want to take this tonight, Sam. As soon as you give me the answer to one question, I'm going to start down that road, and I'm not going to stop until we get where we both want to go."
Thank God. As she processed all the titillating possibilities, he touched her lips with his thumb, his other fingers caressing her jaw, her throat. "There are no wrong answers. No matter what you say, I'm still going down that road. You have a problem with that?"
She shook her head. "Is . . . is that the question?"
"No. This is." A smile touched his lips, though his gaze remained serious. "Am I forgiven? Don't lie to me." A quick flare of heat in his expression accompanied that admonition, twirling a feather of sensation in her chest. She would have put a white lie out there, just to make things go more smoothly, but he was right. Raw honesty was what made this moment all the more potent. And real.
"No, not yet," she said. "I . . . It hurt, and I'm still a little mad."
He nodded, simple acceptance. "I'm still sorry." His gaze passed over her again, taking even more time, lingering on her mouth, the quick rise and fall of her breasts. "How would you feel about Chris and me sharing you, Sam? Over and over, all night long, making you serve our needs?"
She'd tell him, as soon as her vocal cords unlocked. Fortunately, he wasn't done. "I'm sure he's had as many fantasies about you as I have."
"You don't talk about them . . . together?"
"No. Until now, until you set this in motion, I think we both figured it was better not to put it out there, in case one or the other of us had more exclusive designs on you. Which Chris still might."
"You don't believe that. You've both always been so worried that you'd be stepping on the other's toes, but I think you've always realized that wasn't how it needed to be. As long as I felt the same." She bit her lip. "I do."
"You still haven't told me what you're wearing under this dress. Don't make me ask you again. Be detailed. Tell me what Mark was going to get to see."
"He wasn't."
"No? But you wore it for someone. Someone who wasn't me."
He'd just acknowledged that she'd picked out an outfit to deliberately torment him, but the glint in his eye helped her figure out what he was doing. Tossing her hair back, she offered him an indifferent look, difficult as that was. "String bikini panties in lavender. Pretty see-through." She moistened her lips. "I shaved, so I'm all smooth and pink. The bra matches the panties. It's transparent at the top, almost to the nipples, then satin cups for the rest. It's the push-up kind so the neckline would show off some curves."
His fingers slid higher as she spoke, making her stammer. He leaned in the doorway, pressed his lips to her throat. As he moved to her sternum, his hair brushed her chin. She tilted her head back against the headrest. "Spread your legs, Samantha Beth."
She did, and then whimpered as he explored the silky, translucent panties, finding the small blotches of dampness he was inciting. She quivered as he passed a knuckle over her clit, traced her labia, then made that circuit again, a slow massage. Bracing his elbow against the seat at her shoulder, he let his hand drop down over her breasts, fingertips teasing those curves, playing in the valley of her cleavage.
"So you would have let Mark touch you like this?"
She shook her head.
"I expect to hear words come out of your mouth when I ask you a question." His tone was silk over a blade's edge, and she shivered as his hands continued to stroke, torment.
"No. No, I wouldn't have."
"Why not?" His eyes were close enough to lock her in place.
"Because." She inhaled him through all her senses. "I don't want him."
"Good, but not good enough. That's about you. Why wouldn't you let him touch you? Did I mention the selfish-bastard part?"
He found his way beneath the panties, and one finger slid inside her, then another. "Geoff . . ." she said with a touch of scattered desperation.
"Answer me."
"Because I'm . . . yours."
"That's correct, Samantha Beth. You're mine. Ours." A tight smile touched his lips. "You're right about us worrying we'd step on each other getting to you, but I realized tonight I've always thought of you as ours. Mine and Chris's, never just mine. But no one else's."
She shook her head in emphatic agreement as his fingers did a slow thrust and retreat. "Oh . . ."
His gaze stayed fastened on her face as she fought to breathe. "Do you forgive me, Sam?" he asked again.
With the arousal came a tangled knot of other emotions, ones that captured her throat and wouldn't let her utter anything less than the truth. "I'd forgive you anything. Which was why it hurt so much." She took a breath at his shuttered look, was afraid it meant he was withdrawing from her again, no matter what he'd said. "I think part of what a family is . . . what it should be, are people who can take risks with you and who will be here, no matter what. If not, we weren't ever really family. Staying away from the stuff we think will test that isn't a way to make it truth, right?"
His eyes darkened. He pressed his mouth to hers, and her lips trembled under his as he spoke. "If I could take the words back and never say them, I would. But I'll try to make it up to you by not being a coward from here forward. By not being afraid anymore to show you just how much I want you. Deal?"
As restitution went, she couldn't come up with anything better. He broke the kiss to nuzzle her nose, her cheek. When he slowly withdrew his fingers from inside her, he brought them to her mouth, painting her response over her lip gloss. "Who are you so wet for?"
"You," she whispered.
"Good." He rose to his feet and extended his hand. "Come back inside with me."
She put trembling fingers in his grasp, and he helped her out of the car. As he escorted her back inside, he had his hand on her lower back, curved over her hip. Once they stepped inside, he held her in place while he closed and locked the door. She could hear her heart beating. He'd turned off the TV so the house was still except for the hum of the refrigerator.
Gently turning her away from him, he unzipped the dress, guiding it over her head. She lifted her arms to help him remove it.
"Stay like that," he commanded, low, as he set the dress aside. He slid his hands down the length of her arms, palms molding under her armpits, the frame of her rib cage, down to her waist. Learning her body, possessing it, marking every inch with his touch. She shivered.
"All right, lower them now."
Taking her hand, he guided her to
the center of the living room and adjusted her so she was facing the couch. "Stand there," he said. He took a seat, stretching his arm out along the back, hooking his ankle over a knee as if he were preparing to watch something on TV. Only he was watching her instead.
Straight men liked to look at women, quick glances that focused briefly on hip or breast, legs. This was the first time in her life she'd been looked at the way a man might look at a pinup, one he could hold in his hands and peruse as intently and as long as he wished. Geoff started at her feet, working his way up. It felt as intimate as if he were learning her with hands or mouth. It made her self-conscious, but he made a quelling noise when she twitched uncertainly.
"Your Master is looking at you, Samantha Beth. Your posture should show how proud you are of that, because he finds you perfect in every way. Your long, slim legs. Your pale, soft skin. Your gorgeous breasts, nipples already so tight your bra can't hide them. Your pussy is wet, your panties stained with that response. And then there's that gorgeous mouth." He gave her a lazy look. "Do you want to tell me what you were imagining when you put on your lip gloss?"
"You remembered."
"There's very little I forget, when it comes to you."
She blushed, and his lips curved, but there was no humor in the gesture. Only heat, and barely leashed demand. She could feel it waiting, and she wondered if he knew how it heightened the anticipation, to make her aware of it even as he held back until he was ready to release it. Whether by instinct or premeditation, it affected her, took away any of the conflict she'd had earlier.
"Yes, I'd like to tell you. May I?"
Those same instincts had her asking permission, and she earned a reward for it, his body noticeably tightening, increasing that sexual tension between them. He gave a short nod.
"Do you remember The Matrix, when Persephone told the Merovingian the lipstick she meant wasn't on his face? I noticed both you and Chris shifted during that scene. Like you were getting aroused, and didn't want me to see how the thought of that girl giving him oral sex made you both hard. I fantasize about you treating me like a submissive, Geoff. I have for so long . . ."
She took a deep breath, encouraged when he followed how the movement lifted her breasts. "So I would like to ask . . . what I hoped you'd command me to do the other night. I want to be on my knees to you. I want you to make me put my mouth on you. Please . . . sir."
Had he realized she'd wanted to say something far more dramatic than that? She'd wanted to call him Master, but just the thought of it and her face had colored, because it didn't feel entirely right, not when so many things were up in the air. But she couldn't resist the sir. She'd loved using it during her secretary role-playing with him.
As he continued to stare at her, she reached behind her, fingering the clasp of her bra. "Would you like me to take this off?"
"Yes. But leave the panties on."
She unhooked the bra, letting it slide down her arms. Dropping it to the side, she waited. Remembering what he'd said, she straightened, making her small breasts tilt proudly under his gaze.
"Run your fingers through your hair. Pile it up on your head with one hand, and slide your other hand into your panties. I want to see you play with yourself."
She complied. Molten heat coursed through every artery, down to pool between her legs. When she put her fingers there, his attention was on everything she was doing. How her arm was lifted to hold her hair in place, how her fingers moved beneath the fabric of the panties, how stiff her nipples were. She swayed at the sensation of being at the center of his attention. He was letting her pleasure herself for his pleasure, which just made her hotter. She bit her lip as a spasm from between her legs made her hips jerk, her shoulders twitch.
Geoff opened his jeans, reached in and gripped himself, starting to stroke. She made a tiny noise of protest, her gaze clinging to the movement of his hand beneath his shorts, which offered her a glimpse of the head of his cock as his hand slid upward, covered himself, then stroked down again. She licked her lips.
"Ask me again, Sam."
"Please . . . I want to suck you to climax."
"You want to act like my submissive, service my cock, be on your knees to me?"
"No." She shook her head. "I want to be your submissive, not act like it."
"Then get your pretty ass over here and prove it to me."
She hurried and didn't watch where she was going. She hooked her high heel on the coffee table. Quick as a flash, he was on his feet and caught her against him. The speed of his reflexes took her breath away. As did the press of his body. His jeans were still open, the zipper scratching against her abdomen. The head of his cock pressed against her navel, but despite those temptations, it was the strength of his hands holding her, how he tipped up her face, that made her knees tremble.
"Clumsy girl," he said gently. "That's why you have to have two of us. So there's always one around to catch you."
He and Chris teased her about her propensity for tripping over her own feet, saying she'd never really grown into her long, coltish legs, but they never meant it in a mean way. She smiled up at him. "I guess you'll just have to do double shifts on that until Chris comes back."
"I guess I will." He sank back down on the couch, holding her hand, and then he tugged. She went to her knees between his spread thighs, hands gripping his knees. Her gaze riveted on his thick, erect shaft, the cotton of his shorts barely containing it. But when she reached for him, he put his hands on her wrists and held her. "No," he said. "Not yet."
"But . . ."
"Hush." Rising, he tucked himself back in and stepped around her before scooping her off the carpet. As he moved toward the bedroom, he held her securely in his arms and she wrapped hers around him. Her hip pressed against his abdomen, feeling the shift of muscle groups there. Despite her height, there was no awkwardness in how he carried her. She always thought of Chris as the brawn of the two, but Geoff and Chris were pretty evenly matched when they wrestled. Chris claimed Geoff was a dirty fighter and able to twist out of holds more easily, but no one could hold their own with Chris for more than a second unless they also had some real strength.
Geoff laid her down on his bed, switching on the bedside lamp. "We're doing this right," he said. "Before you do any of those other things, before we take this further, I want to be inside you. Chris will have his turn, but I'll be first." His eyes gleamed emerald and gold at her. "There's a pecking order to these things."
"And he's not around to argue."
"No, he's not. But I'll win this one either way." From the look in his eyes, she believed it. There was only one alpha dog in the house, though she thought if he ever ceded leadership to anyone, it would be to Chris. Imagining what might happen when and if he did made her shiver.
Taking off his shirt, Geoff bent to remove shoes and socks before skinning off his jeans. When he straightened and moved toward her again, only wearing his dark brief shorts, she made a noise, lifting her hand. He raised an eyebrow in question. Sam wet her lips and gave him a shy look. "Would you mind just standing there, as I did for you?"
"Exactly as you did for me?"
As a submissive, waiting on the Master to give the next direction. She colored at his expression. "No. Definitely no. I just . . . I've always wanted to look at you in your underwear. I saw you once, sort of. You had your door cracked and you were on the phone with someone while you were getting dressed for work. You'd stopped at the end of your bed and were telling him what you needed for a meeting. You should have looked funny, sounding so authoritative while standing in nothing but your underwear, but . . . you didn't. Then you turned your head and I rabbited up the hall. I wasn't sure if you saw me . . ."
"I did." His eyes sparkled. "When I realized you'd been standing there deliberately looking at me, it gave me a lot of distracting thoughts that day. So . . ." He took a measured step back. "Look your fill."
It was probably a pretty unusual request for a sub to make of her Master. One he
might not normally indulge, because, as she'd discovered in the living room, it was a bit unsettling to simply stand still under someone's concentrated regard. But maybe it was different for a Dom. She didn't see any self-consciousness in Geoff's expression as she savored the moment with avid gratitude, poring over his shoulders, the expanse of his chest, the gleaming dark hairs that arrowed down his fit stomach to the waistband of the charcoal-gray shorts that stopped high on his corded thighs.
His arousal seemed to have gotten fuller, longer, and when she flicked a surprised glance at his face, he cocked his head. "Yeah, watching my sub stare at me with that hungry look makes me think of all the ways I'm going to please myself with her. Which gets me even harder. So keep looking, Sam. I'll tell you when you're done."
He kept making her heart trip. She noticed a damp spot on his shorts where the head would be, evidence of his desire that made things pull between her legs in restless response. He had elegant feet and long-fingered hands. Even his neck tempted touch. She wanted to feel the intricate layering of tendons, veins and arteries.
"You're beautiful," she said in a hushed voice. "I've always thought so."
He grimaced at that and she smiled. "In the most manly way," she added. "Like Chris Pine beautiful, as Captain Kirk."
"You didn't even get interested in Star Trek until he started playing that role."
She lifted a shoulder. "I'm sure that's just coincidence. I've been very busy for the past couple of decades."
"Mm-hmm." His eyes lit with amusement. God, she needed, wanted him. Some part of her couldn't believe this was finally happening. She didn't want to rush anything, yet another part of her was sure she was going to explode if he didn't get on with it right now. She let herself be held in stasis by that tangled morass of desire and his gaze.
"Sam, I want you to spread your legs. Bend your knees so your feet are flat on the bed. Stroke yourself again."
She did, her knees wide, and he shifted so he was framed between her bent knees, watching her. She drank in the sight of him as he removed the underwear. His arousal was so stiff, and the weight of his testicles was framed by his thighs. She wanted to run her hands down his chest, tangle in the hair there, feel him pressing her legs apart with the weight of his body. It had been so long since she'd had sex, but if it had been yesterday, it would be a distant shadow. The actual act with those past lovers wasn't as intense as her anticipation of it now, with him.