by Lilia Moon
Some vestigial remnant of teenage boy wants to do a victory dance. “What about touching your pussy? Putting my fingers inside you?”
Even in the dark I can tell her cheeks have turned the color of sexy tomatoes. “You mean so that you can try to make me have an orgasm?”
Vanilla men are idiots. “I don’t know all of what I’m going to do tonight. I’ll be deciding some of that as I watch your responses.” Although I’m going to be hard pressed not to take that last comment as a dare. “I just want to know where your boundary lines are.”
She’s walking again, stepping into her nerves. “I want to say yes, but I’m worried I won’t able to have an orgasm if you want me to. Sometimes I wilt under pressure.”
I stop us both, cup her face in my hands, and lower my voice. “You’re handing your pleasure over to me tonight. You’ll come if I want you to. Don’t question your Dom’s skills, sweetheart—that’s the kind of thing that gets you a spanking.”
Her eyes are huge again.
Good. “I won’t use my mouth on you tonight, and my cock will stay in my pants. No toys, but I might restrain you a little or I might spank you lightly. No anal penetration, but I might play around in your ass crack some. Anything in there you’d like to take off the table?”
She’s blinking fast. “The language you use is so blunt.”
And effective—she’s not thinking nearly so hard about all her worries anymore. “We often sound like sailors in this lifestyle, but the alternative is sounding really clinical or like a bad romance novel.”
“I guess.” She’s looking at me through her lashes again. “I think being tied up might be fun. I don’t know about spanking, but I know Emily really likes it.”
We’re talking about baby kink, kink so light and non-threatening that it would probably lose me my Dom card in most clubs. And yet, watching the curiosity and bravery and desire in her eyes, I can’t think of anything else I’d rather be doing tonight.
I put my hand in hers. “Okay. Let’s go play.”
Chapter Ten
Gabby
I walk into my house and step aside to let Daniel fit through the door behind me. Like most houses built back when mine was, the entryway is about the size of a peanut.
He fills it up very differently than my three girls did.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. My heart is beating somewhere up in my throat and I can barely breathe. I back up against a wall, not sure what to do with any part of me. “I have some wine, I think, if you’d like some. Or tea.” My voice is an octave higher than usual.
He steps up to me and puts one arm on each side of me, caging me against the wall. “Relax, sweetheart. You chose the version of tonight where I decide what happens. Which means it’s not your job to worry about what happens next.”
He’s so confident, so sure of himself, and that makes some parts of me freeze up and other parts of me melt.
He runs a hand loosely down my hair. “Do you have some massage oil in the house?”
My brain has clearly voted for melting. “I have some coconut oil with vanilla in it that I use for baking—will that work?”
“Great.” He groans and rubs his cheek against mine. “You’re going to smell totally edible and I set up foolish rules where I don’t get to lick you.”
I’ve never been anywhere near a man who talks this way. Nobody has ever wanted to lick me. My skin feels like it’s been set on fire.
He chuckles and runs his knuckle down my flaming cheek. “Find the oil and put a little in a small bowl. Then it’s time to get you naked.”
The logistics of this suddenly kick in and get totally real. There’s just no elegant way to strip off jeans and underwear I never expected him to see. And that’s before I worry about my stretch marks and round tummy and all the parts of me that jiggle.
He steps into me, as if he’s read my mind, and slides a hand up to the back of my neck. “I love watching a woman peel off her clothes, but this time I’m going to go use your bathroom for a few minutes. When I come back, I want you sitting on the edge of your couch, eyes down, hands behind your back, and that bowl of oil somewhere nearby.”
He brushes his lips on mine again and then disappears, leaving me standing in my entryway, aroused and terrified and scatterbrained and on a deadline. It’s the last that gets my feet moving. I start with the oil, since that part’s easy and almost feels like cooking. I scoop a little of the flavored coconut oil into a small glass bowl and pop it in the microwave long enough to warm it up. Then I walk into the living room and turn off as many lights as I can without pitching the room into utter darkness, and put my hands on the waistband of my jeans.
Naked. Oh God.
I breathe in.
Huff that breath out and trace my eyes down the lines of the hardwood floor. I laid that floor. I can do this too.
I take in another breath, a real one this time. Single moms don’t get to dodge the hard parts. I know how to do this. It’s just like killing ugly bugs—move fast and don’t think.
I strip down fast, scared and dizzy and deeply motivated by the thought of Daniel coming back when I’m still hopping around on one leg. I manage not to hyperventilate as I fold my clothes into a neat pile on a chair in the corner, and then I go sit on the edge of my couch. The leather is cool under my naked skin. I try to remember all his instructions. Eyes down, hands behind my back. Thank goodness for yoga class. I link my fingers behind me and realize just how much it makes my breasts stick out.
Which makes me feel utterly foolish, until I remember just what might be happening to them soon.
I sense Daniel before I hear his footsteps. His breathing. His feet stepping onto the edge of my area rug.
I try not to hunch over. It’s still really bright in here. I’m not ashamed of my body—it birthed one child and raised three and it’s strong and when I look in the mirror I mostly like what I see.
But that’s so wildly different than sitting naked before a man who’s been drinking me with his eyes all night.
Chapter Eleven
Daniel
She’s thinking again. Worrying.
Which is something I’d be working on very hard if this wasn’t just a couple of hours of play to see if she has any interest in stepping out of the vanilla world. For now, I’m just going to short-circuit it.
I walk over, kneel, tip up her chin, and let her see the very honest appreciation in my eyes. And then I lay down a small towel I borrowed from her bathroom and tap the couch cushions beside her. I’ve already surveyed my working space and know exactly what I want. “Lie down here, on your front.” For now she’ll feel safer that way. Until she discovers just what an interested Dom might do to her ass.
She slides around, which is a little tricky on the leather. That’s not something I intend to fix. A little extra help holding her still. I slide a small, flat pillow under her belly.
I run a hand up her back as she settles, letting her know I approve. Her insecurities don’t live in her head—they live in her body. It’s touch that will fight them back, not words. “Fold up your arms and tuck them under your head. I want you to keep them there for me.” Verbal restraints are a thing I love, and that way I don’t have to go spelunking in her closets for makeshift tying devices.
She follows my instructions, and I can hear her breath settling some. She’s feeling safer. We’ll work with that for a bit before I shake her up some more. “For tonight, yellow tells me you’re really uncomfortable, red tells me to stop. Got that?”
Her eyes open and find mine. “Safewords?”
She’s picked up a few things. Good. “Exactly. I’m going to push you some tonight, because that’s part of the experience. Any time you play with someone new, surprising things can happen, so I need to be able to trust you to communicate with me.”
She nods.
I swat the ass cheek closest to me. “Words, sweetheart.”
She jumps and nearly swallows her tongue. “Yellow. Red. Use th
em. Got it.”
I grin and swat the other ass cheek. “That one’s just because you like it.”
Her face turns bright pink.
I didn’t plan to start with a spanking, but her cues are pretty much a flashing neon sign.
I drop a few more light swats, deeply enjoying the way her ass shakes under my hands.
She lets out a whimper and turns her face away from me.
Not a chance. I lean over and run my hand down the back of her head, her neck. “Everything I’m going to try with you tonight is something I really enjoy. There’s no shame in liking what I’m doing to you.”
She turns her face back toward me, and I can see it takes real effort. “It’s not shame, exactly.” She rubs her thighs against each other, and now I know exactly what the problem is. “I just didn’t expect it to—” Her groan is the most thoroughly embarrassed sound I’ve ever heard. “It’s making me throb like crazy.”
I kiss her ear, the back of her neck, her shoulder blade. “You’re not alone. Lots of subs come just from a spanking.”
In fact, that sounds like an excellent idea. “Spread your knees for me, sweetheart. As wide as they can go without falling off the couch.”
She whimpers.
I swat her ass, a little harder this time. “Now.”
I don’t give her time to think. As soon as her knees spread, I slide a hand between her legs and run two fingers through her inner folds. Her shocked intake of breath is a beautiful thing, as is the wet heat my fingers have just discovered.
Someone is thoroughly hot and bothered.
I move my fingers experimentally, looking for the hidden nerve bundles deep in the valleys of her pussy, and grin when she jumps.
I rock gently on the nerves I’ve found, getting their location committed to the map-memory of my fingers. Then I shift my body around as best as I can to accommodate what my hands intend to do next. I didn’t set the scene up for this at all, so it’s going to be a little awkward, but I’m a creative man when the motivation is right.
Gabby’s embarrassed, pink, wiggly ass is the best motivation I’ve had in a really long time.
Chapter Twelve
Gabby
He’s touching me. His fingers are in my wetness, and he’s making happy, appreciative sounds, like he isn’t at all embarrassed by what he’s found.
I can’t decide if I should run screaming for a blanket or push harder against his fingers.
He chuckles. “You like that, do you?” His fingers circle over some crazy sensitive spots, ones I didn’t even know existed.
The hand that has been resting lightly on my ass lifts up, and I can feel my whole body tensing. It doesn’t hurt when he spanks me, but the sting shoots straight to where his fingers are, and now my legs are wide open and there’s nowhere for my wetness to hide.
I try to shift my knees closer together, which only succeeds in making me feel like a beached whale.
He runs a hand down my leg that’s closest to him and tugs my bent knee right off the couch. “Stay open for me or I’ll tie this leg down. I like to look.”
Oh God. I hadn’t even thought about how much he can see.
I whimper.
He leans his head down by my ear. “What color is your traffic light, Gabby?”
Traffic light? I have no idea what he’s talking about.
His fingers slide through my folds again as he chuckles. “Green, yellow, red.”
Oh. Safewords. I suck in a breath of air, pretty sure I sound like a beached whale too. “Green.” That shocks even me, but I know it’s the right answer. I’ve done the hard parts. I’ve gotten naked, let him see. Now I want my reward. “A really embarrassed green.”
He growls and nips my ear. “Thank you. For your honesty and for giving me your luscious body to play with.”
He totally sounds like he means it, and I have no idea what to do with that.
He’s talking into my ear again. “Here, hold on to the sides of this couch cushion.” He shows me with one hand, and I mirror with the other. “That’s right.” His voice holds a deep note of warning mischief now, and his hand is rubbing where he spanked me before. “Now don’t let go.”
This time when I whimper, it’s not because I’m embarrassed.
He slaps my bottom again, harder than he did before. Twice on each side, and then his fingers are swirling in my wetness and his deep, pleased sounds only make me wetter.
He laughs when I squirm, and then both his hands are moving at the same time, spanking me and stroking tight little circles between my legs and driving me up an impossible hill.
I can’t possibly come from a spanking.
I can’t possibly not. My fingers clutch the couch cushion, and I can feel my hips wiggling, trying to decide which hand they like best. The fire low in my belly is about to hit molten—and then he lands his spanking hand right on the inflamed skin between my legs and the fire blows up.
I melt into the couch, heart pounding, my limbs totally non-functional, and gasp for air.
Before I can fix any of that, I feel his arms moving me. “Let’s roll you over, sweetheart.”
I manage to get my eyes open when he flips me onto my back, but I can’t make any words come out.
He’s looking at me with hungry eyes. “I’m not nearly done with you.” He runs his hands over me, putting my disobedient limbs wherever he wants them. Arms under my head. Knees spread wide, hips tilted up on a pillow.
I don’t have enough energy to be embarrassed again.
He runs a hand gently between my legs. “You’re all pink and swollen and beautiful.”
My cheeks flame—apparently I was wrong. I open my mouth again, but all that comes out is a squeak.
He leans over and kisses me and slides his hand up to my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple.
I try not to cringe. He’s been really good to me. I can let him touch.
His hand freezes, his eyes shooting straight to mine. “Why don’t you like it when I touch your nipple?”
All my hot, melty feelings flee.
He cups my chin and his voice drops. “Talk to me, Gabby. Now.”
I feel like a little girl who just spilled all the milk. “I’m sorry. I know guys really like breasts, but I don’t think mine work right. I don’t feel anything when you touch them.”
His eyes fill with approval. “You’re beautifully honest. Thank you.”
My eyes are filling with something far more watery and I can’t do anything about it. But he didn’t turn away my first words, so I need to give him the rest. “I don’t want to fake enjoying it. But I don’t want to lie here and feel defective either.”
His face makes very clear what he thinks of both of those options. “Good. Let me give you two different choices.”
He’s the most confusing man I’ve ever met. “Okay.” Even I can hear how dubious I sound.
He laughs. “You’re wounding my ego, gorgeous.”
His hand still hasn’t moved off my breast.
“Choice number one is that I can leave your breasts alone for now and go play with your wet, pretty pussy. Choice number two is that I take two minutes before I do that to see if your nipples might respond to some different kinds of touch than you might have experienced before.”
I wince. I’ve seen some of the things in Harlan’s toy bag. “Nothing painful. Please.”
His eyes are on me, and they’re filled with all the patience in the world—and desire. “I won’t go past yellow.”
Chapter Thirteen
Daniel
Worried little sub. One who needs to know that her Dom doesn’t think she’s at all broken, no matter what happens in the next couple of minutes.
I prop her head on small pillow so that she can watch. Might as well learn more than one thing at once.
I run a finger lazily in circles around her left breast. Light, undemanding touch. Gabby lies where I put her, stiff as a board. I pretend I don’t notice and make the circles bigger, tra
iling my fingernails over the underside of her breast. That gets me a slight inhale, and a very surprised look from my sub.
Vanilla men are idiots.
I keep up the feathery touches and dip a couple of the fingers of my other hand in the coconut oil. She watches carefully as I oil up her areola, her mostly relaxed nipple. She starts to look worried again, and I growl. “I don’t care if they react, sweetheart. It’s fine if you feel nothing at all. I just want to play a bit, see if we might find some more surprises.” I run my fingernails along the underside of her breast again to make my point.
I get a small, rueful smile.
I start replicating the same treatment on the other breast. Soft touches, warm oil. When her nipples start contracting a little, I take one breast in each hand. They’re the perfect handful, and I pause for a minute to appreciate their soft weight. Then I roll her left nipple between my thumb and finger. Light pressure, and ratcheting worry on Gabby’s face.
I roll the other side, a little harder. Still nothing, but I have a theory. I keep one hand on her breast and slide the other between her legs. Not doing anything—it’s only there for distraction. And then I squeeze her nipple hard.
Her moan is almost a screech as her back arches into my hand. And in case I’m a blind, deaf, and dumb Dom, her pussy drenches my other hand.
I grin and pinch her nipple again.
Her hands latch on to my wrist, but they have no idea what they want.
I lean over so she can see my eyes. “Hands behind your head.”
She complies, eyes full of shock.
I squeeze both nipples this time, and the cry that rips out of her is music to my ears.
And then I stroke them gently and bring this little game to a stop, because if I keep it up she’s going to be very sore in the morning. I’ll have a lot more options when I can use my mouth, and the two minutes I negotiated for are definitely up. But I’m going to have very good dreams tonight, powered by nothing more than the stunned look on her face.