by Lilia Moon
I’m lying here crying with a man’s fingers somewhere I never expected anything to be, and I’m feeling comforted. “No, I don’t think so, actually.”
I can see oceans of approval in his eyes. “Lots of people have some really strong feelings around anal play, and they can be surprising. See if you can breathe into them and let them go.”
I try to follow his instructions, and somehow they help.
He breathes along with me for a while, stroking my back.
I wiggle my hips.
He chuckles. “What do you need now, sweetheart?”
I can’t believe what I can feel inside me now. Chasing away the last of the upset, the last of the fear. “Could you try moving your fingers again, please?”
He slides them in and then out, slow and easy and full of the belief that I can do this, even if it’s uncomfortable.
I hear myself whimper as tightness turns into something else.
His free hand moves down to my pussy, one finger sliding inside me, two others up the sides of my clit.
Everything inside me heats and focuses on his hands.
“This is so incredibly sexy, Gabby.” His hands start moving, an alternating rhythm, one sliding into me and then the other. “You’re so wet, and you’re letting me do exactly what I want to do to you.”
I can feel myself getting wetter at his words. I wanted to be able to do this for him. To let him make it amazing for me too. The heat inside me starts to flare, reaching for that place he takes me so easily.
His fingers get more insistent. Faster. Rolling the folds around my clit, squeezing them. I squirm into the pressure, trying to get what I need.
“Come in my hands, sweetheart.” His voice is deep, husky. “Let me watch you come.”
He thrusts the fingers of both hands into me as deep as he can go, and I’m crying out, rocking fiercely into his hands as the blast rolls through me. He slides slowly in and out a few more times, finding more ripples, more little leftover corners of my orgasm and setting them free.
And then he lies down beside me on the bed, one hand on my naked bottom, and grins.
My brain shattered along with the rest of me, but I manage a dopey grin back.
He lays a bottle of massage oil on the bed in front of my nose. “Your turn. If you want it.”
I stare at him, not processing the words. And then I remember one of Sam’s little pieces of paper. Find yourself a bottle of massage oil and rub his ass. If you’re feeling brave, see how he likes a finger or two inside him.
The exact same thing he just did to me.
I stare at the bottle of oil, and I can feel the emotions rising. The quivers. The fluttering anxiety. The desire.
He rubs a thumb down my cheek. “As little or as much as you want. Just have fun.”
I grin stupidly at the bottle. I think I just might.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Daniel
The look on her face is priceless—and worth every bit of the risk I just took.
The rules say she needs aftercare right now, that the anal play pushed her and she needs to be done. Except my gut says otherwise. She needs to find her power. She won’t fully be able to give it to me until she has it firmly in her own hands.
That and I’m a selfish bastard who isn’t going to give up a chance to have her very sexy, very capable hands massaging my ass.
Her first touches are tentative, but that doesn’t last long. She starts to trust her hands more, enjoying the exploration. She works deep into the muscles, using her palms for better pressure. It feels insanely good, and if I have any qualms about lying here and letting her work me over, all I have to do is listen to her quiet happy sounds.
Ari was dead right. This woman needs to give.
And it’s making her brave.
I hide a smile as her hands start to roam a little closer to zones she now knows are pretty damn sexy. She breathes in deeply, and then her fingers slide into my ass crack. Tentative. Sweet. Curious. Sweeping up and down, slowly, and then circling my asshole. Touching it gently with a finger.
I lay as still as I possibly can, which isn’t easy to do, given how much I want this. It has to be her choice.
Her hands start to tremble. “I want to do this, but I have no idea how.”
I just want to wrap her up and hold her and breathe her in—but there’s something deeply important coming on this road and I want us to get there. For her and for me. “The vanilla guy would tell you that nothing you can do will feel bad, and to just enjoy exploring.” I wait until I hear her relieved exhale. “The Dom guy would be happy to guide your hands if you’d like.”
“That. Please.” Her response is instant.
She’s so unbelievably gorgeous. “Lots of oil. Then try pushing in with a knuckle first, get a feel for the muscle and how it responds to your touch.”
She’s following my instructions before I even finish them.
I tip my head into the bed and groan quietly.
She laughs softly and pushes her knuckle in a little harder.
It feels insanely good—and I can feel the happiness beaming off her. “Switch to a finger anytime you like, sweetheart.”
She does, and some part of me that hasn’t been lit for a long time wakes up. I close my eyes and swallow, because it’s not her finger in my ass doing the lighting, as good as that feels. It’s the glow of someone this honestly focused on my pleasure.
She’s sliding in deeper now, experimenting. Making her small happy sounds. I feel a second finger nudging against the first, and then she freezes.
I groan again and push up gently toward her fingers. “Please.”
This time her happy sound vibrates all the way into her fingers.
I have no idea how I got this lucky.
She slides in and out a few times, adding more oil without me saying anything. Her other hand starts wandering, feather touches.
My ass is in a very happy place.
She pauses, her fingers fairly deep. “How far in should I go?”
I’m listening so carefully to her voice, but all I hear is fascination. “As far as you like. You could also try rotating a little, or curving your fingers and stroking the side walls.”
She pushes in deep, curving her fingers as she thrusts. This time my groan gets a throaty laugh.
Sam’s a genius. Or he’s the devil who’s going to kill me.
Her fingers sweep across a spot that has my ass jumping and quivering. She freezes—and then she does it again.
I moan and clench her sheets in my fists.
She hums in pleasure, and touches the spot more firmly this time. Circles it. Experimenting.
I can barely see straight, but I need to warn her. I curl around so I can see her face. “That’s my prostate, sweetheart. It’s like your g-spot, and it’s a really sensitive area for me. I’m going to come really fast if you keep playing with it.”
I see the shock. And the pleased surprise. And then the gleeful intent as she starts to move her fingers again.
Her other hand strokes down the back of my cock.
I grin fiercely into the bed. I’ve created a monster.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Gabby
I wake up to morning light streaming through my window, so very aware of the man sleeping next to me, his arm over my belly, his face tucked in to my ribs. He sprawls out like a little boy when he sleeps, but he’s always touching me somehow.
I put an arm under my head so that I can see him better. His feet are hanging off the end of the bed, his legs uncovered. I’m tempted to slide the quilt up further so I can see the territory I played with last night. Most of me still can’t believe I did that, but feeling his body quiver as I touched him, clench and rock up into my fingers, was pretty much the best feeling ever.
My cheeks flush as I realize I’m rubbing my thighs together.
The arm over my belly reaches for my breast. “If you keep wiggling like that, sweetheart, then I can promise you the sl
eeping part of this night is over.”
I laugh. We already had middle-of-the-night sleepy sex. And wide-awake sex last night after our cleanup shower. We didn’t even make it out of the bathroom. Brushing my teeth will never be quite the same again.
He rolls onto his side and moves up the bed to kiss me. “I like that mussed, satisfied look on your face.” His hand slides between my legs. “Sore?”
I hear the stupid thoughts as they come this time. The ones that think my pussy somehow got unattractive overnight. I sigh and roll over onto my tummy. “Spanking, please.”
His eyebrows wing up, and then I see him get it. He levers himself up onto his elbow and delivers four stinging swats to my bottom. Then he lies back down, his hand rubbing gently where he just spanked, and puts his face on the bed sheet next to mine. “You caught the negative thoughts fast this time.”
He sounds proud of me. I realize, embarrassing as this is, that I’m proud too. “I don’t want them to affect my life. Or my pleasure.”
He rubs his cheek on mine. “Keep giving them to my hand to chase away.”
I lie there, his morning stubble scratching gently over my face, his hand stroking my bottom, and I feel treasured. “Thank you.”
He chuckles softly and slides a hand back between my legs. “My pleasure. Truly. Now tell me the truth about how sore you are.”
I wiggle experimentally against his hand. “I feel swollen, and well used.” I grin at him. “And happy to be used again.”
He snorts. Then he sits up, puts a little oil on his fingers, and presses gently where he played last night. “And here?”
I can feel my cheeks getting red, but I ignore them. “Fine.”
He lays back down, his oiled fingers still massaging, and strokes my face with his free hand. “Anal play can sometimes be more mental than physical. How are you feeling this morning about what we did?”
I start with the easy part. “I really liked touching you. I’d like to do that again.”
He growls, low and pleased. “Done. And how about me touching you again?”
I make a silly, embarrassed sound, but my bottom spontaneously wiggles against the hand that’s still massaging. “Yes.”
He smiles. “How about taking it further next time?”
Doxy was frighteningly educational on the possibilities. “Like anal plugs?”
“Those.” He slides an oiled finger inside my ass, and it doesn’t feel nearly as uncomfortable as it did last night. “And maybe eventually my cock.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Daniel
She makes a face at me, even as her ass wiggles more insistently against my hand. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation before breakfast.”
I can’t believe how much she likes anal play, but I’m smart enough not to push it. She had enough of an emotional reaction last night that I want to give her time to process—and her very helpful friends gave us lots of other material to work with in the meantime.
I indulge myself by running through a list of possibilities, and settle on one of my favorites. One that will hopefully drive another nail into the coffin of Gabby thinking she’s undesirable in the morning.
I toss the covers off and slide her around on the bed, lifting one foot up over the top of the headboard. I place a small towel around her ankle for padding and then work it into a convenient notch in the ironwork. I grin. I’d forgotten just how much fun it is to improvise.
She’s staring at me like I’ve gone crazy.
I place a small pillow over my crossed legs and then slide her ass into my lap at an angle. I wrap her free leg around the side of me that’s farthest from the headboard, spreading her open nice and wide. I stroke her pussy, warming her up and making sure I have the angles right, and adjust the pillow to tilt her hips up a little more. Not a bad setup for totally winging it.
Gabby’s eyes are huge, wondering just what I’m setting us up for. I swat her pussy, feather light. “I think this one was Ari’s idea.” I let my fingers fall again, keeping a very close watch on all her cues. I know from lightly spanking her ass that this isn’t a woman who gets off on pain. At all.
I see when she figures out which of Ari’s offerings we’re up to. “Oh.” She looks worried, and a little sad—or maybe disappointed. In herself. “I wasn’t sure about that one.”
I bet. “That’s why we’re trying it.” My fingers swat again, slightly harder. I’m not seeking reaction yet—just getting her attention. “Red stops it, yellow dials it down, okay? Wrinkling your nose and telling me you don’t like it will work too.”
She laughs, and most of the worry rolls away. “That sounds like what I said to my girls when I fed them strange new vegetables.”
There’s something a sub has never said to me before. I grin, adoring her. “Exactly. This is a taste test.” I swat again. “Just another way my hands can play with your pussy.”
She nods solemnly—and she’s thinking way too hard.
I put a little more flick into my fingers. I’m landing them carefully, on her mound, her labia. Moving my hand enough that it never lands in exactly the same place twice.
I smile as her skin turns pink and her parts start to swell. That’s not arousal yet, just blood flow—but it’s a sign I haven’t lost my touch. Pussy spanking is a hard skill to get right, especially if you want to keep it erotic and not remotely painful, but my hands haven’t forgotten.
I look up at Gabby’s face, monitoring closely. Her eyes are closed, but her breathing is speeding up.
I pick up the rhythm, increase the weight. Taking her a little deeper. If there’s turn-on in here for her, I should find it soon.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Gabby
I’m his drum. My blood, sloshing up and down in my body to the beat of his hand.
My skin feels warm, sunburned, reaching.
And then something opens and the drumbeat changes. Not him demanding more. Me. I want more. Need more.
His fingers close over my nipple, setting a fire that heads straight for the drumming.
I arch up, my voice dancing with the slapping sounds of his hand.
More. I need more.
The drum speeds up.
The fire in my nipple billows again. I’m lost, unmoored, flooding. Everything in me moving to be a part of this beat, asking it to be bigger, to make space for all of me.
The drum sounds wetter now.
I open my eyes. I need to see him, this man who knows how to play me like some kind of magic instrument.
His face is wildly, fiercely focused.
He looks up and sees me watching, and something in him shifts. Unleashes.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Daniel
She’s not going to be able to fucking walk after this.
I yank the towel out, free her foot, toss the pillow, somehow manage to get a condom on. And then I have her hips in my hands and my cock storming the doors of her swollen, wet heat.
I sit back on my heels, holding her hips still. I grit my teeth—she’s going to be insanely sensitive. The last thing she needs is a caveman plundering her.
I slide in slowly, eyes on her face.
She arches and tries to take me in faster.
My cock’s begging as hard as she is. I don’t care. I won’t hurt her. I grip her hips tight, impaling her as slowly as I can. All the way in.
She moans, her hands flailing ineffectually at my knees.
I pull out, slide in again. A little faster this time.
Her hips are fighting my hands, hard. She’s singing, a whimpering wail that never quite stops and shreds all the willpower I have left. And then her eyes laser into mine. “Harder. Please.”
I slide back out, desperately seeking some remnant of control—and can’t find it. Her wail crescendos as I slam into her, hard and fierce and hungry.
And then she’s coming, and I’m pounding into her, and there’s nothing in the world except for the tornado that’s just grabbed us b
oth.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Gabby
I love breakfast in bed. It’s a luxury, a treat, a rare and unusual pampering.
This morning it might be absolute necessity.
I groan and lift my head off Daniel’s shoulder. And then I flop back down, because I apparently don’t have enough muscles to do even that.
He chuckles and shifts us so that we’re lying on our sides, facing each other, legs tangled like spaghetti. “Better?”
He knew I needed to see his face. “You always seem to know exactly what I need.”
“Not always.” He smiles, tracing the line of my chin. “You’re very expressive, but words can still be really helpful. Especially if I don’t get something quite right.”
He so easily accepts that possibility. I’ve seen his arrogance, his certainty—but it comes packaged with this deep willingness to adjust, to shift, to learn.
Damon and Harlan might not appreciate being called fairy godmothers, but I’m pretty sure they’re mine.
He strokes my forehead, tracing the lines that form when I think. “What’s going on in there, sweetheart?”
“I’m feeling really lucky.” My heart is ready to explode with it.
“Yeah.” He moves in for a soft kiss. “That makes two of us.”
I move to give him better access—and wince.
He instantly stops, scanning my face. And then his hand slides down between us, cupping me with exquisite tenderness. “Sore?”
I bite my lip. “Yes. Sorry.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You think you need to be apologizing for that?” He shakes his head, eyes rueful. “Gabby, I pounded into you like a teenager, after doing everything I could to make you as sensitive as possible. Trust me, this is all on me.”
I suddenly understand how he feels when I have dumb negative thoughts. I put my hand under his chin. “If you apologize for that, you’re really going to piss me off.”
His eyes flare with surprise—and then with amused chagrin. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”