by Kate Stewart
“So wet for me already and I haven’t even touched you.” I parted my lips and pushed back on his hand in reply, moaning for him. Seconds later, I felt the rub of a single cool ball at my entrance and gasped at the feel of it. I moaned again as he slipped it inside of me.
“We gotta keep this pussy tight if you want to play with the big boys, don’t we, Mrs. Harvell? Don’t you dare let it go or we’ll start all over again.” I clamped down as hard as I could, the task not seeming to be much of a challenge until the weight of it hit me. FUCK.
I kept my thighs tight, clenching as much as I could. It was agonizing. I looked up to meet his eyes filled with that familiar burn. He circled me, watching me struggle. I felt the ball slip as I gave just an inch of leeway to relax. I sucked in a breath, clenching as tight as I could when he surprised me by adding the second. The fear set in as I gripped my muscles tight. He tortured me, stroking my thighs in a relaxing manner as I held onto the balls for dear life. I found no pleasure in this and was about to start begging when he joined me, kneeling on the table, placing a hand on each of my thighs. He licked my center sweetly as I tightened with all my might, trying desperately not to lose his game.
“Very good. I’ll reward you.” He dipped his finger inside, pushing the balls slightly further. This was my reward? I moaned in agony as my knees began to hurt, my thighs aching for relief, and my arms starting to shake.
“Look at that sweet ass,” he murmured, massaging my puckered hole. I sucked in a breath and squeezed as hard as I could as he rubbed me sweetly. The feeling was so foreign but felt so fucking good. I knew I couldn’t hold on much longer.
“Oh God!” I cried as he dipped a finger into the unchartered territory, a ball crashing to the table.
“You get one, Violet, no more.” I shook now, the ball barely inside me, and the wetness only growing as he fingered my ass and blew on my sex. I moaned for him, begging for relief, but he kept me there. I was drawn so tight; my nipples were aching and I felt the tears hot on my cheeks. It was pure frustration pouring out of me at this point.
He took his finger and his mouth away and I screamed out in frustration. The pull was there, but I needed his help and he knew it.
“What do you want, Violet?”
All I could feel was the heavy weight of the ball and the need for his cock. I didn’t answer as he slapped my ass hard, the second ball falling out only to be replaced swiftly by his length. He slammed into me and I came so hard my front half collapsed on the table as I called his name. He never slowed his pace, his strokes punishing and exquisite. I recovered only slightly as he again massaged my ass while punishing my clit with his finger. I came again minutes later and he grunted, pulling my hair as he shot his orgasm onto my back in hot spurts.
We lay on his couch, tangled up and panting an hour later after another round. This one didn’t involve balls or discipline. This one, though just as devastating as the first, consisted of me being bent over every surface of the bottom floor of his house.
“About my husband…” I said, catching his gray eyes, the small grin fading from his face.
“Jesus, lady, no man, no matter who they are, wants to hear those words after sex.”
“It’s just that, I want you to know...I don’t know why, but there’s nothing going on there. I mean, we have to be honest, right?”
He was lying flat on the couch and I had my leg over his torso, enveloping him with my hand on his chest. This was way different than our rendezvous at the club. I wondered why he had brought me here to his home. This screamed personal, yet he never really pried, never really asked me questions about myself. Maybe this was just the way he treated his partners, and I respected him for it. He gave way more than he took, and it seemed to satisfy him. And yet, the more I studied his profile as his breathing evened out, the more I felt my chest tighten. He said he was a relationship kind of guy, or that it wasn’t so out of the question. I wondered if he’d consider that with me. And then I sort of panicked...I shot up off the couch, racing to the stairs for my clothes, and heard him laugh at my lightning streak across the house.
“Where’s the fire?” He had just tied the string on his sweatpants and rounded the corner to the stairs when I clasped my bra.
“I’m sorry. I have to go. I forgot…” I couldn’t think of one damn good excuse to give him and sat down on the bottom step of his stairs, sliding my shoes on.
“Wow, that’s the worst excuse I have ever heard. I wanted to cook you dinner, but hey, you forgot...” He shook his head slowly, his usual grin at my expense covering his face.
“I’m sorry,” I said, standing up, throwing my shirt over my head. He helped me pull it down and lifted my hair out of the collar as my heart did a summersault.
“It’s okay, Violet. If you have to go, you have to go,” he whispered to me as he kissed my cheek. I nodded and walked toward the door, mumbling about errands and that it was pointless to thank him for fucking me and I would talk to him soon. He stopped me as I placed my hand on the doorknob.
“Don’t leave. You don’t want to, so don’t.” His breath tickled my ear. The smell of him mingled with the sex we’d had was intoxicating.
“If I stay, then everything changes, right?” He moved my hair away from my neck and placed a soft kiss on the back of it.
“Don’t you want to find out?”
My chest squeezed at the thought and I turned to him, kissing him sweetly before I left him at his door. I fumbled with my keys, not looking to see if he was watching me, and got into my car. I braved a look at his entrance, but he wasn’t there. I laid my forehead against my steering wheel, not wanting to leave, but knowing if I stayed it meant we would start something I wasn’t sure I was ready for. I was barely a few weeks into my year of being sexually free. On the other hand, the man was beautiful, smart, intuitive, well endowed, and seemed successful. Oh, and he was a fucking stallion in bed who had blown my mind with his impressive skills with his hands, dick, and tongue for the last two weeks. What the hell was I thinking?
I dashed for his door, taking the four million steps quickly and twisted the handle. Locked. Okay, so it wouldn’t be the grand entrance I pictured in my head. I knocked on the door and got no answer. I knocked again and waited. Nothing. What the hell? I had been in the car less than five minutes. I didn’t see a car leave. I knocked again, this time more of a bang, and got nothing. Completely confused, I ran down his steps to the driveway and saw his sedan parked next to the house. I ran back up to his door and knocked again. When he didn’t answer, I became furious and kicked a potted plant down his steps. He picked that exact moment to open the door and stood watching me curse as my toe pulsed with my heartbeat. He crossed his arms, soaking wet with a towel wrapped around him.
Ah, he was in the shower. You should probably find a rock to go crawl under, Violet.
He stood there dripping on his beautiful antique floor, torturing me, his half-baked smile on the verge of hysterical laughter. I quickly started talking.
“I’m definitely not as subtle as I used to be.” I nudged over my shoulder at the plant that I had just massacred. “I have a bit of a temper. I’ve horrible allergies and I look disgusting when I have an attack, like disgusting.” I circled an opened hand over my face for emphasis. “I have good things going for me too. I hate raisins, but I love wine. As a matter of fact, I can pair wine and food like no one’s business, I give a mean massage, I know the location of all the prime and potentially lucrative real estate in Savannah, and I can hold a ben wa ball in my vagina for at least ten minutes.”
“Five,” he replied with a chuckle.
“THAT WAS FIVE MINUTES!” I said, disgusted. “Fine, I’ll make it ten by Christmas. I love a challenge.” I stood there with my pride hanging in the air as he watched me carefully. “God, why couldn’t you have just left the door unlocked?” I threw up my hands. “Now you’ve seen my crazy.”
He looked gorgeous freshly wet and still dripping. I wanted back in that house
bad. “Yes. I want to see where this can go, Rhys.”
He dropped his towel and tugged me inside by both hands, shutting the door and placing my back on it. And then he kissed me, really kissed me. I melted into his arms as his tongue gently stroked mine, my moan this time sounded like a sigh. I opened myself to him, letting him strip me bare. He clasped our hands as he led me upstairs. I took a quick look around his spacious bedroom as he led me to his adjoining master bath. He turned the faucet on the tub and plugged it, adding some bath salt. I raised my brow.
“What? It’s cucumber, and I like the smell.”
I burst out laughing and he swatted my ass playfully. He tested the water, letting it run as he pulled a towel from the cabinet, placing it on his sink. The bath was a beautiful, old-fashioned, claw foot tub and I couldn’t wait to get in it. He pulled me to him and kissed me again like he meant it, leaving me breathless and aching for him.
“Take a bath and I’ll start dinner. Chicken fettuccine okay? I’m pretty sure there are no raisins in it.” He winked and I nodded, my cheeks heating slightly. He kissed me again sweetly and let me go. I stuck both feet in, wincing as my sore toe hit the water. Rhys turned to me as an afterthought as he was walking out the door. “I’m glad you said yes.”
I smiled at him and replied, “Me too.”
God, how naïve was I to have thought all people into kink were subhuman? Rhys seemed to be a really good man. I looked around his subtle but tastefully decorated bathroom and thought now this is a man who might appreciate decorations on the holidays. His house was a home, even if he was the only one who occupied it. It seemed warm and inviting and I felt right at home in his claw foot tub, sudsing my body and enjoying his hospitality...and his cucumber bath salt. I giggled again, taking a look at the brand he liked, burning it into my brain. I was sure it would come in handy later, either as ammo or a present. God, was I already planning to prank him in the future? The truth was, I hoped so.
Downstairs, dressed and freshly cucumbered, I found a drop dead gorgeous man tooling around in his kitchen with ease. He wore a fresh pair of sweats and had pots going heavy on the stove. I was saddened at the loss of his bare chest now covered by a white -shirt.
“Anything I can do to help?” I piped behind him.
“No, just sit there at the bar. I poured you a glass of wine.” I took a seat at his bar and sipped the wine. It was amazing.
“Okay, straight up,” I said, snapping my fingers, “if you can’t be this amazing in a year, don’t you dare do it now.” I saw his cheeks puff, his back still turned to me as he stirred the pot of noodles. He set the spoon down and walked over to the bar.
“Well, I can be a real prick too, but I figured I’d start you out easy.” He snatched my wine glass out of my hand as I protested with a quick, “Heeeeyyyy.” He drank a big gulp, leaving me with a sip left and I crossed my arms. “I’ll shut up now.”
He pulled the bottle out of a cabinet, poured me more, and then turned to his task at hand.
“So, I love your house. When did you get it?”
“Thanks,” he answered, draining the pasta. “I moved in about three years ago.”
“And you decorated this place yourself?” Okay, what the hell with the loaded question, Vi? Easy.
“No, I had help,” he said, shooting a careful glance my way.
“And that’s my prying quota for the day,” I said, taking a nice gulp of wine.
“I highly doubt that, Violet,” he said with a grin, mixing the pasta and gesturing for me to sit at his kitchen table.
He joined me a few minutes later with two full plates of steaming goodness paired with fresh garlic bread. I dug in, absolutely starving from the smells that had tortured me while he was cooking. I took heaping forkfuls into my mouth in clear appreciation of his amazing cooking skills. I moaned, closing my eyes after a few bites. Catching his eyes on me, I turned my head and gave him my best smile, twisting my fork in the air with flair.
“I’m not sure I like that moan, woman.”
“And why the hell not?” I asked, offended. “It’s a compliment to your cooking”
“And it’s an insult to my cock. I’m not so sure you moan as well when you compliment it.”
“Well, anytime you want to make me moan in your kitchen with your cock, let me know. I’m game. And this food is delicious. Thank you.”
“I love that you eat like you mean it,” he stated, taking a mouthful of noodles.
“Not that I need to.” Shit, self-depreciating slip, Vi. Not attractive. Then again, give yourself a break. It’s been a while since you’ve dated. You are dating! I went in for a smooth recovery, “But I do love my food and I mean that.”
“I love the way your body looks. I wouldn’t change a fucking thing.”
I snapped to and saw that he meant it, and I fell a little for him right then. I stifled the emotion I was sure was showing in my face. It had been so long since I felt this type of affection, since I was this full, this appreciated, this...happy. I wanted it to last.
When we finished our dinner, I insisted on cleaning the dishes and he made his way to the couch to watch football. When he saw me enter the living room, he pulled a small pillow from the side of the couch and placed it between his chest and his arm. If he could see my insides, he would see them falling to my feet.
Who the fuck are you, Rhys?
I had every intention of finding out.
Twenty extremely boring minutes of football later, I spoke up, perfectly relaxed with my feet snuggled with his on the coffee table he had violated me on hours earlier. It was hard to believe this was the same man.
“How old are you, Rhys?”
“Thirty-four.”
“Where are you from?”
“Here, born and raised.” He lifted a piece of hair covering my eyes so he could glance down and catch mine. “You?”
“Thirty-two. Thirty-three on Halloween and born and raised here, too.” I snuggled further into him; he seemed to like the affection or faked it well.
“So, before you owned the bar, what did you do?”
“What I still do. I work a boring ass nine to five installing computer updates for the company I work for.”
“You have a nine to five?” I sat up, completely thrown.
“The bar is great income. I could live off of that, but being there day in day out isn’t very appealing.”
“I get it.” I lay back down in his arms, resting my chin on his chest. “But you still love it, right?”
He leaned down and whispered, “If you’re asking if I’ll ever get tired of fucking your pretty pink pussy in a variety of light and dark ways, I’m almost positive the answer is no.”
I smiled and buried my head in his chest. He cupped my chin, bringing my eyes to his. “Never ever be afraid to tell me what you want.”
I was so close to bursting, I simply nodded and put my head back on his chest, making sure he didn’t see the lone happy tear that fell down my cheek. I woke some time later to the weightless feeling of being carried and looked up to see Rhys cradling my body as he moved us easily up the stairs. He looked down at me with an intensity that had my already rapid heartbeat kicking into overdrive. Standing at the edge of his bed, words failed us both as our eyes locked.
He kissed me and my clothes seemed to fall away naturally, as if they didn’t belong between us. Naked and laid out for him, he took his time stretching his lips and tongue over every single inch of my skin. I felt worshipped and beautiful, and when he brought his mouth back to mine, I kissed him with my whole being.
“Violet,” he said as he held my face in his hands, tracing my jaw with his kiss. I basked in his tender touch, wrapping my limbs around him, unable to get close enough. He slid inside me gently; the friction of his cock mixed with the emotion in my chest led me to orgasm in minutes. His strokes took me to a blissful state, murmuring as I kissed his chest and arms. He made love to me for hours as we took turns swallowing each other’s moans, exploring ea
ch other’s bodies until we were too weak to move. He held me to his chest tightly as we drifted off into a deep sleep.
The next morning, I woke up to his kiss, smiling as he trailed it to my nipple. I covered my mouth, pushing his head away and sprang up from the bed.
“Violet, what the hell? I had a perfectly good erection.”
“Toothbrush?” I questioned, scared to say more.
“I think there’s an extra one in my medicine cabinet.”
He shook his head and smiled, falling into bed, his black hair a total disheveled mess and his morning stubble sexy as hell. I knew what I looked like and was terrified. I scurried into the bathroom and checked my appearance. Past the age of thirty, I had never looked well in the morning. I always had pillow face and Tina Turner hair. Today was so...different. My hair, by the grace of God, while a little tousled, still looked good. My skin was glowing, face slightly puffy, but not too shabby. I grabbed the spare toothbrush and went to work, remedying my morning breath. After using the restroom, I opened the door in a “ta-da” fashion, naked as a jaybird.
He chuckled and patted the bed next to him. I looked at the clock.
“It’s eight a.m. on Monday morning, don’t you have a job to go to?” I asked.
“Get over here,” he growled. I walked excruciatingly slow and giggled when he snatched me by the waist, throwing me onto the bed.
“Woman, service me!” He kneeled in front of me, turned his head to the side as he placed his hands on his hips, proudly displaying his glorious morning wood.
“Okay, I’ll earn my keep, but you better be thinking about this at work today.” I swallowed him whole and minutes later he pounded me into thinking of him for the rest of my life.
Pulling into my drive, I noticed Alex’s car there. I walked in, expecting him to be dressing for work, but he was in our bed and sick as hell. I rolled my eyes at his pleas to talk to me. Showering and dressing quickly to prepare myself for a few listings to show, I granted him a small amount of mercy by leaving some cough tablets and hot soup by the bed. The only thing worse than being sick was being treated like shit when you were sick. Besides, I was feeling generous today. I’d just started something amazing with a man who treated me well and worshipped my body.