To: CLEdge
From: Ladygardner79
Subject: Secrets
There aren’t any secrets between me and the other guy, just things I’m not comfortable writing down. If you really want to know, I’ll tell you in vivid detail when you get back. I know he has secrets, but he hasn’t bothered to share them with me. I swear I’m not keeping anything from you.
Off to see Pops.
Love,
Baily
From: CLEdge
To: Ladygardner79
Subject: The Other Guy
Don’t trust him too far. Never forget that he has an agenda, one I doubt you will enjoy. There are things I need to tell you too, about me, and him. Things that have happened that I don’t want to write down either.
I’ll be back tonight. Wear something special for me.
Connor
The box arrives about twenty minutes after Connor’s final email. I’m reading up on Dubai over my morning coffee, when there’s a brisk knock at my door. Rochelle departed the day after Connor and I haven’t had any visitor’s since. If nothing else, the time sequestered on the Rosemont without the distraction of Connor Edge highlights exactly how much of a hermit I’ve become. Without work to fill my days, I’m at a loss. The trip to Dubai will prove a welcome diversion until my classes start up.
Two brisk raps on the door draw my attention away from my tablet, AKA who I’ve dubbed Simon and has become my new best friend.
Loser. Snarkerella mutters.
Brushing her aside I cinch my red robe tighter and head for the door. It’s way too early for the security team to check in on me, we visit Pops in mid-afternoon. Maybe I should get dressed, in case something’s wrong. But I don’t want to leave whoever is on the front porch waiting.
“Hello?” I call through the closed door. My heart is pounding though I have no idea why.
No one answers me.
Connor is making me paranoid. Who the heck would get through the gates, past the two patrolling security teams and then come knocking on my door and wait for me to answer?
Sucking in a fortifying breath, I yank the door wide. No one is insight but a small white box sits on my stoop.
Taking a few steps out onto the rickety porch I look in every direction. Whoever left the box beat feet out of the area as fast as their legs could carry them. Weird.
Nudging the package with my foot, I flinch, hoping nothing will hiss, growl, detonate or do anything else creepy packages do.
Get a grip. Snarkerella rolls her eyes. Remember, Connor wanted you to wear something special? What are the odds the control freak didn’t pick it out for you?
Only one way to find out.
Gingerly, I nudge the lid askew until I can see inside. At first there’s only an ocean of blue tissue paper, so I grow bolder and remove the lid entirely. The objects inside are still wrapped in store packaging and as soon as I realize what they are, my face flames. No wonder the delivery person ran off.
Told you so. Snarkerella sneers.
I hate it when she’s right. Although somehow I doubt she’d seen this one coming. Recovering the box quickly, I scurry inside and bolt the door.
What had Connor been thinking? When he said wear something special, I never in a million years would have thought he meant a butt plug. Shows how well I know him.
Setting the package down on the table I picked up the lid again. The small silver thing is oddly shaped, with a bulbous head tapering to a thinner neck that curved slight with a wide ring shaped base. My teeth sink into my lower lip. For holding?
Reading the packaging only makes me more uncomfortable. Apparently my new friend is made from medical grade steel, is nonporous and will never degrade or corrode. It promises a silky smooth penetration, a true sense of fullness along with a “bonus massage” for both partners during double penetration. A small bottle of scent free lubricant peeps out of the tissue paper.
Dropping the package I head directly for the fridge and pour myself a glass of wine. Once that’s gone I refill my glass and move to the window. This must be in retaliation for the ginger root. I should have taken care of disposing of the evidence myself, but just like all my encounters with Connor, there was so much going on and it slipped my mind . Why else wouldn’t he just spring it on me, the way he did everything else? I’d agree to anything when we were in bed together, but in the harsh morning light with a stainless steel butt plug waiting for me, I can barely breathe.
No this was deliberate, strategic. He wants to see if I’ll do it, if I’ll wear his little gift. It could even be a test of some sort. I wouldn’t put it past him to be toying with me. That makes sense, he expects me to balk.
Maybe it’s the wine or just my natural stubborn streak, but I turn back to the box with a sense of purpose.
Game on, Mr. Edge.
****
After my visit with Pops, who hasn’t said a word since telling me not to marry Connor, I come home and draw a hot bath. According to the text Connor sent me, he should be landing in a few hours and I’ve had all day to plan my revenge for his little surprise.
Taking the wine into the tub with me, I listen to some soft, soothing music and imagine the night ahead. No matter which version of Connor shows up, I know my girl parts, that have been neglected for a week, are going to get a serious work out tonight.
Fresh and clean and wearing nothing but a towel, I retrieve my phone and set it on the dresser facing the bed, propped on its side. After checking the angle, I hit the record feature and lean down to stand in front of it.
“Is this what you wanted?” Dropping my towel, I sit back on the bed, cupping my breasts. “Is this how you like me?”
Fondling the heavy weights slowly, I close my eyes, losing myself in the pleasure of the moment. I’d brought myself to climax before, but never with the intent of seducing someone else. Connor said he likes seeing my pleasure, so I‘m going to take him at his word and give him a show he’ll never forget.
With that thought in mind, I pull the tight peaks of my nipples, sighing as pleasure and moisture gathers between my legs. Reaching for the lube, I pour it all over my hands until they are slick with it. Lying back on the bed I draw my feet up until they are braced against the mattress., spreading my knees wide so the camera—and by proxy Connor— will have a clear view.
One hand delves into my saturated folds. I don’t know if it’s the thought of Connor watching this or my uncharacteristic boldness, but my pussy is drenched. Two fingers slip easily inside my channel. I dabble for a time, rubbing my clit with the heel of my hand. My other hand spreads my labia so he can see everything.
I imagine him watching this on the plane, or in the car, seeing me so greedy in pleasuring myself. Will he reach for his cock, maybe rub it a little, imagining it being shoved into my wet heat? Or maybe he’ll grit his teeth and wait for the main event.
Though I’m tempted to make myself come, I take my hand away and roll onto my stomach. Checking over my shoulder to assure myself that I’m still in line with the camera, I reach for the lube once more, coating my hands thoroughly.
“No, no, this is what you want.” Winking at the camera, I bend down, planting my face into the mattress. I feel dirty, slutty as I spread my ass cheeks for the camera and I actually like it.
The position is awkward as I draw my right hand up my crease. I can barely reach but even the slight brush of my slick fingers against the puckered ring causes my clit to tingle. With only the pad of my finger I massage gently, groaning when I remember the way Connor touched me there. How he licked me there, the wet slide of his tongue coaxing me open.
Pressing inward, my finger slides into that dark passage, the feeling stranger but intense. I thrust a little, working first one knuckle, then two past the tight barrier. It’s starting to feel good, really good, better than I had ever imagined such self-pleasuring could be. My heartbeat pounds in my clit, but I’m afraid to touch it with my other hand in case I orgasm.
“Do you wa
nt to see me take this?” Removing my fingers, I reach for the plug. Talking to Connor as though he’s watching this right now, like he’s silently involved makes me hotter, wetter. “Do you think it’ll fit?”
Lubing up the toy, I hold it between two fingers and angle it back to press against my seal. Despite the preparation, the metal head is huge and cold and my body clenches. I need something to distract me from the goal.
Spreading my knees as farther apart, I capture my clit with my left hand. I can feel my pulse there and rub in time to its beat.
The metal tip absorbs my heat, warming to my body temperature. It feels good where it is poised at my opening but I want it in deeper, want to feel the smooth hardness on the inside. My hips rock in time to my rubbing and I push back into the toy.
“Connor,” I breathe, imagining it’s not a piece of metal trying to access my body, but my lover’s incredibly hard cock. I can almost feel his hands on my hips, holding me still and slowly pushing the head into my tight opening.
I’m shocked when the toy slides into place, creating a fullness inside. Twisting the handle I groan as the thing shifts inside me, angling differently.
Panting, I work two fingers into my wet slit, grinding my heel against my throbbing clit. I should have waited for him because no I want to be fucked, hard and fast. My fingers aren’t enough, neither is the toy filling my ass. I want his cock in me, stretching me, feeling his gift through the walls of my pussy.
It’s the idea of him slamming home, twisting the butt plug while he drives deeper into my wet sheathe that sends me over. I clamp down on my fingers, press in with my hand, grip the plug desperately as waves of release wash over me. I cry out, not something I’ve ever done on my own before, until my voice is hoarse.
Slowly I come back down, my breaths returning to normal. I have no idea how long I lay there, sprawled with the plug still lodged securely inside me. My hands shake as I reach for the phone.
“Hope you’re here for the next act.”
I press send before I think better of it, then collapse on my bed to wait.
Chapter Five
When I wake, Connor looms in the doorway, in the way only a big, sexy man can possibly do. His expression is bland, but the rigid set of his shoulders gives away his true mood. With his arms crossed over his broad chest, revealing the muscles in his forearms I shiver, thinking of his strength, his power.
And that’s before I remember the butt plug.
“Did your little performance wear you out?” His voice is rough, almost abrasive and it streaks along my nerves in such a way to unsettle me.
He’s not taking this in the spirit I intended it. “I just thought—”
“Did you think? I was at dinner, Baily. With a Senator for God’s sake.”
Crap. “I’m sure he’s got worse on his phone. Isn’t that a prerequisite?”
His arms fall to his side. “Do you think this is funny? Do you have any idea what happened? I switched over, right there in the middle of a crowded restaurant.”
My lips part as I take his meaning. No wonder he looks so dangerous. I woke the sleeping Dom.
He closes in, leaning down over me, trapping me between those sexy forearms. “And now you have to deal with me.
I scramble backwards, but there’s only so far I can go. “I’m sorry, but how was I to know that would happen? I thought you were on your way back already, that you’d like it.” There’s a little wiggle in my voice, my insecurities rearing back to life. What had I been thinking in making that video? It seemed like a good idea at the time is a really lame response when confront with an angry bear of a man who may or may not eat me alive.
“Like is too mild a word.” His blazing blue eyes trace over me. “Let me see it.”
“Connor.” I try but he claps a hand over my mouth.
“There are two acceptable answers. Use your safeword, or say Yes, Sir and comply.” The ice in his blue eyes tells me he’s dead serious.
My whole body is shaking, whether from fear or anticipation I don’t know. I’d done this, tripped his trigger and now I need to deal with the fallout.
It’s tight quarters between his arms, but he isn’t giving an inch. I navigate myself onto my belly, then tuck my knees up, raising my ass higher in the air. He doesn’t wait for me to part my flesh, just does it himself without a word.
Humiliation burns through me as he circles the object stretching my opening with a fingertip. The snap of a plastic lid makes me jump. “What are you doing?”
His open palm smacks against my backside. I yelp, startled and he swats me again. He isn’t taking it easy on me and every instinct I have is screaming at me to wiggle away and protect myself from his wrath.
But I know this Connor, understand how his mind works. I crossed a line and he has to punish me for it to set things right. In some ways, he’s so much simpler to deal with than the Connor who left me.
Three more strikes then he grips my hair in a fist, turning my head to the side. There’s no pain in his touch, only mastery, complete control. His face lowers until his breath caresses my skin.
“Not without permission,” he growls.
I’m not clear if he’s talking about the liberties I’ve taken with my body, the video or my asking a question. The confusion must be scrawled across my face.
“Do not speak without permission. I’ve given you too much leniency in the past, been too easy on you. I gave you enough rope to hang yourself by. That ends tonight. Do not speak without permission or unless I ask you a question or you get five more. Are we clear?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He nods and straightens. “You need more lube here, so you’re not too sore for what I have planned. Hold still.”
I desperately want to ask what he intends but then he’s removing the plug, squirting more cold lube inside me using his finger around the stretched aperture. I jump, surprised and he gives me another open palmed swat, commanding me to stay still.
I expect him to unzip his pants, thinking he’ll fuck me now, probably in the orifice he’s so carefully preparing. Instead, he reinserts the plug then wraps the comforter around me, securely trapping me inside and lifts me, blanket and all over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
Grinding my molars together, I barely refrain from asking him if he intends to carry me outside like this. Not only is it freezing, but his security teams are on patrol and I’m scared to death one of them will see. There’s humiliation and then there’s humiliation.
But instead of heading to the front door, Connor strides purposefully to the root cellar. What the heck can he be planning down here? I squirm, trying to look over his shoulder but he swats my blanket covered backside, a wordless command to stay still.
When Grandma Rose was alive this area was used for canning, pickling and other domestic chores. The trapdoor above leads to the small vegetable garden Pops used to tend, but had overgrown since the decline of his health.
I notice a bench along the far wall had been moved and another door, one I never noticed before stands open. It’s not really a door, more an opening in the cellar where cement blocks have been removed.
“What the hell?” I breathe.
Connor doesn’t discipline me for my statement, merely heads into the passageway.
I expect it to be dark, but tract lighting has been installed beneath the floor, which isn’t dirt at all, but some kind of metal grating. His steps echo in the space and I have no way of telling how long the tunnel extends.
“Are you afraid?” Connor murmurs, not even winded from carrying my trussed up self for such a distance.
“No.” I’m uncomfortable and nervous, but I trust him completely. Hopefully that won’t turn out to be a mistake.
“If you had any idea what’s going through my head right now, you would be.” His tone is flat, lacking inflection. I can tell his control is on a fraying leash, that I’ve pushed him to the edge of his comfort zone and he’s hell bent on returning the favor.
&
nbsp; The tunnel seems to go on forever. Maybe it’s the sameness of the metal grating, the cement pillars providing support, but I have no sense of distance or direction. Blood has long since rushed to my head and my stomach is sore from being bounced against his shoulder. But it’s nothing compared to the apprehension of what waits for me on the other end. I’m hoping the long trek with my heavy self will diminish a bit of Connor’s endless stamina.
Finally we round a curve up ahead and step through another open door. I blink at the harsh lights. Even a 60 watt bulb seems bright after the dim tunnel.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from exclaiming. We are in Connor’s office, the one with the awesome fireplace and bearskin rug. I want to ask if he’s been using the tunnel since the first night he showed up in my bedroom. Explained why the other Connor denied having a key to my place. I have a feeling the other Connor doesn’t know about the tunnel any more than I did.
He sets me down in the wingback chair and turns toward his desk. Picking up a piece of paper he holds it before my eyes. It’s the safe, sane and consensual contract, the one the other Connor refused to let me sign.
Slowly I raise my gaze until it locks with his.
“You have a choice, Baily. One last chance to go back. If you don’t sign this, you can right back through that tunnel and we call it quits. For good.”
He’s serious. I search his face, a million questions churning through my brain. What will the other Connor say when he finds out I signed this contract against his express wishes? Can Connor the Dom really promise that we’d be through when he’s only at the helm part time? And what exactly does he have planned that is so far beyond what we’ve already done that he needs my signature to verify consent?
His eyes narrow. “I see it all going through your mind. I left him a note before, I can do it again. I started this and I’ll end it if I have to. Things have gone too far already.”
Caught Up In You 4: The Point of No Return (Edgeplay) Page 4