Twist Tied

by Guimond, Heather

  Tightly gripping my hips, he thrust into me over and over, grinding long and slow each time he bottomed out in my depths. He’d swirl the head of his cock against my cervix, making me groan and leaving me gasping for air. It was a sweet pain, the battering thrust against the soft, spongy tissue inside, and I couldn’t help but reach back and dig my nails into his side, urging him on faster, harder.

  “Pull my hair, Wyatt,” I demanded, eager to feel the tingling in my scalp and the tight pull of muscles as my back arched. He tangled his fingers in my hair, pulling gently. “Harder! I won’t break.”

  He instantly complied, jerking my head back. I cried out loud, elated by the reward I’d demanded. My entire body was on fire, a lithe frame of crackling nerve endings and sweet sensations engulfing me. My insides seized, gripping him tightly and slowing his rhythm for a moment. That must have felt good because he tugged harder on my hair and picked up the momentum even faster.

  It didn’t take long before our bodies were loudly slapping together, the wet sound obscene but beyond exciting. I felt myself taking the rapid climb toward the top, to that sweet peak where I could fling myself off the edge with sheer abandon.

  Trembling and quaking, I held on as long as I could to prolong the anticipation—that giddy feeling of knowing sublime satisfaction was just a heartbeat away. Finally, with one final punch from his hips, both Wyatt and I were calling out as we dove from that mountain, exhilarated by our free-falling descent into ecstasy.

  We fell into a sweaty, gasping heap on the bed, his heavy weight pressing me into the mattress. I nudged him, making him roll onto his back, still winded and sucking in air. I caught my breath before he did and gave a luxurious stretch, rolling to my side. I had no words for how amazing it had been. I reached over and trailed my hand lightly over his abdomen, feeling the hard, rippling muscles, taking a moment to admire the sweet sight of his strong body.

  “Wow,” Wyatt finally said once he’d gotten his breathing under control. “You’re a goddamned wildcat.”

  “We completely forgot to dip into our toys,” I suddenly realized, my smile from his compliment falling away to uncertainty.

  “So what?” he replied. “They’re not going anywhere, and I definitely want to do this again. However…”

  I looked at him expectantly as he trailed off, my stomach tight as I wondered what he was going to say.

  “However what?” I asked impatiently when he didn’t continue right away.

  “If we’re going to truly play around with power exchange, you might want to be a little less bossy,” he said, laughing.

  “What? I wasn’t!”

  “You most certainly were. You drove the bus through the entire affair. Not that I’m complaining at all. It was sexy as fuck to watch you take what you wanted without a second thought.” He leaned over and kissed me on the nose. “You’re fucking incredible.”

  I gave him a tight smile back as I thought about everything that had happened. He was right. My inner tigress sprang forth, and I’d nearly eaten him alive. I didn’t want to hold back with Wyatt, I wanted to yield to him completely, to feel that helplessness at the hands of a powerful, protective man. How could I still lose myself in the moment without reverting to old habits? This was a problem that I had to solve quickly, or I’d lose my chance with him. He may have enjoyed it this time, but he’d soon grow frustrated and unhappy if I wrested control from him every time we went to bed.

  “I don’t know about you, but I could use some water,” I said, trying to change the subject.

  “There you go, bossing me around again,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Fuck. Sorry. I’ll be right back.” I jumped up and left the room, shaking my head. I needed to start being mindful of who I was dealing with, of what I wanted from him. I grabbed two bottles of water from his refrigerator, then quickly returned to the room.

  “Here you are, Sir,” I said, trying to be deferential, but the words came out sassy and sarcastic. How very me.

  “Thanks,” he said, not seeming to notice my newest faux pas and uncapping the bottle. He drained it in a couple long gulps before I could even get my bottle open.

  Once I’d had a few healthy swigs from mine, Wyatt grinned up at me.

  “We may have screwed up the Dom/sub thing, but we can practice the ‘after-care’ part. Slide under the covers here with me.”

  Needing no further convincing, I jumped into bed, pulling the sheet and blanket over me and snuggling right up next to him. He looped an arm under my shoulders and pulled me in tight, gently kissing my forehead, then my lips.

  “You know, I had reservations about getting involved in any way again,” he began slowly. “I really fucked up last year, I don’t want to do it again. I feel like I can trust you though, and honestly, more than anything I don’t want to fuck up with you.”

  “You can trust me. Our private life is our private life. I don’t need my name dragged through the mud anymore than you do yours.”

  “That’s not all I mean though. I really like you, Clarisse. You’re smart, witty, and unafraid to be yourself. Plus, you give an excellent blow job.”

  I slapped his chest, knowing he was being a smartass. I loved that about him and figured it was a big reason why we got along. God knew my mouth was as smart as they came. We could tease each other mercilessly, and no one would get butt-hurt by it. I offended people so often, it was a big reason I avoided many friendships or other relationships in life. Nothing is worse than floating a joke to someone, having it flop, then trying to explain yourself. It was a lot easier to stick to my own inner circle of people who understood me. Knowing Wyatt was that kind of person made me feel warm and happy.

  “Let’s get some sleep, big guy. It’s late, and we have to prep for your trip to Topeka tomorrow.”

  “You mean our trip to Topeka,” he said, his face a picture of enthusiasm

  * * *

  I was up bright and early the next morning, leaving a sexy but snoring Wyatt alone in bed. After hitting my minimum caffeine quota for six a.m., I poured another cup and took it with me to his office. We’d dragged in his boxes of books from the garage the first day, and I needed to do a complete inventory so I’d know just what and how much of everything we were taking with us. I’d originally planned to have the books shipped to the conference center ahead of time, but considering Wyatt was filling in at the last minute, we didn’t have the time. He was going to be paying some hefty extra baggage fees.

  I squatted down to open the first box, feeling pleasantly sore from our night before. I smiled to myself—that secret giddy feeling you get when you remember that you’ve been up to no good. Though I’d totally blown my whole submissive intentions out of the water, I couldn’t deny the passion had been exquisite. It was like I’d abandoned any and all thoughts, just to drink in the pleasure we made. Was that wrong? I could easily reconcile it with my BDSM fantasies, couldn’t I? That was more about kinky sex than anything else. The mindset of a submissive was something deeper. I needed to connect with that part of myself, the one that sang back to the call of a strong man.

  My thoughts turned to Wyatt. He’d been everything I wanted. Tall. Dark. Muscular. Handsome. H-O-T. Plus, I’d been able to see inside his mind through his stories. I knew that take-control mindset was there. How did I get him to put it into practice? Surely, if I could draw that out in him, I’d naturally submit. Right?

  I was unconsciously biting my lower lip while placing stacks of books on top of Wyatt’s desk when he walked in. He wore a plaid bathrobe, open at the front, so I could see more of the rippling muscles that started my blood pumping again. I was just about to open my mouth and say something smart when he yawned and scratched his belly. The image, combined with his messy bedhead hairdo made me laugh instead.

  “Looks like you need to get some coffee,” I suggested as I picked up my own mug and took another sip.

  “How long have you been up?” he asked, suppressing another yawn.

  “Not
very. Just long enough to juice up,” I said, holding up my cup, “then to come in here and start sorting everything out. You’re just in time to tell me if you want to take some of everything or just a lot of a few books.”

  “Hell if I know. Let me get myself together, and I’ll join you back here in about fifteen minutes. We can figure it out then.”

  “Only fifteen minutes. We have to move on to swag before the morning is over, then get all this shit boxed up.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” he said with a salute. Was I really so bossy? When it came to work, of course, I was. That was my job. It had nothing to do with my ability to submit, I told myself.

  When Wyatt came back in, coffee in hand, I’d set out stacks of ten of each book for him to choose from. He had fifteen books to his name, which in my opinion was far too many to stack out on his table at the signing. We’d never have room to display them all. Sure, we could get one of the larger, magazine-style racks to display one or two of each with a few others showcased on the table, but it was counterproductive to overwhelm readers with the entire collection of his work.

  “I think we should take your five most recent releases and have them positioned individually at the front of your table. Anything more would be overkill.”

  “I think we should take a few of them all. The idea is to sell as many books as I can, isn’t it?” Wyatt asked, his face screwed up in confusion.

  “No, the whole purpose is to meet your readers and make connections with other authors so you can help each other’s careers. Trust me, take a handful of each. If anyone wants something older, we can take back-up orders and mail them to them when we get back.

  “Susan had an entirely different philosophy. I’m not sure.”

  “Well, you’re stuck with me now. Just trust me, I’m not new at this,” I said firmly.

  “Fine. We agreed when I hired you that you’re the boss. Now, let’s get everything together.”

  Surprisingly we made fast work of sorting, boxing, and labeling everything, It was early afternoon when we finished, and we’d moved from his office to the living room, relaxing and trying to decide what to do for the rest of the day.

  “Why don’t we grab a quick lunch, then come back here and do a little research,” Wyatt suggested.

  “Research? For what? Do you need help with your current book?”

  “No, nothing like that. I mean for this little adventure we’re on. We could come back and play with our toys,” he said, looking every bit the sexy devil.

  “I’d even skip lunch for that,” I quipped.

  “No, we should eat. If last night is any indication, we’re going to need all the energy we can muster. I think we should work straight through to dinner, don’t you?”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” I replied, goofy grin securely in place.

  Clarisse and I went back to Pat’s bar so we could indulge in their hot chowder and fresh crusty bread. It was the perfect warm up on a cold winter day. The desert wind was positively frigid, and the idea of enjoying something light but filling in the cozy atmosphere of my favorite hole-in-the-wall was perfect. I wanted to discuss this relationship with her in deeper detail, but I had so many questions, I wasn’t sure where to begin.

  Aside from the logistics of founding a relationship on a philosophy neither one of us really knew anything about, were we actually a couple? Was this partnership a romantic relationship for either of us? I knew for me, my interest and affection for her was growing rapidly by the minute, but she could speak so plainly in the abstract, at times it still felt more like a transaction between the two of us. Was that just her way, and she was really into me too, or was it all still her trying to live out her fantasies with someone she found acceptable? How could I even bring the subject up without looking like a fool? Or worse, some sniveling baby who couldn’t just go with the flow. I could bend and adjust as needed, but my general outlook on life was to have a clear direction. I’d approach this the same way in the grand scheme, but for now, I needed that clarity.

  Just as I was scraping the last of my soup from my bowl and still fumbling in my head for a way to speak my mind, Clarisse pushed her bowl toward me.

  “I’m full. If you’re still hungry, you can have the rest of mine,” she said, eyeing me thoughtfully.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” I replied, thinking that at least I could buy more time to come up with the right words if I was busy stuffing my face.

  “It’s all yours,” she said, pushing the plate with the remaining portion of her bread toward me too. She sat for a moment, opened her mouth to speak again, then seemed to think better of it.

  “Something on your mind, Clarisse?” I asked between hearty bites of her soup. She’d left me half the bowl.

  “Well, yes. I had a great time last night, as you know.”

  I grinned proudly and nodded but wondered where she was headed.

  “And I think you did too,” she said, earning another enthusiastic head nod from me because my mouth was full. “I expect we’ll be doing as much research as we can over the next several days.”

  “Months if I have anything to say about it,” I said as I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “We have lots to learn.”

  “Exactly. So, what I was wondering…” she trailed off for a minute before taking a deep breath. “What exactly does this mean for us? Are we just exploring new ideas together?”

  “What do you mean?” She made a face, then inhaled deeply again before letting her next words out in a rush.

  “Well, what are we? Like kinky fuck buddies or something more? Are we going to be exclusive? Are we just going to play?” she asked, her hand gesturing back and forth between us. “I need to know what this is.”

  “I’ve been wondering the same thing all morning,” I replied with a chuckle. “I know what I’d like it to be, but I need to know what you want.”

  “Let’s try to get this Dom/sub thing off the ground, and you tell me what it should be.”

  “I don’t think it works like that, Clarisse. This should be a mutual decision as equals.”

  “Okay, fine. I want you all to myself. I don’t share.”

  “That’s good because neither do I. I haven’t dated anyone in a long time, even longer since I spent time in anyone’s bed or had someone in mine. You?”

  “I haven’t slept with anyone in over a year. I don’t even remember how long it’s been since I actually dated someone.”

  “Then we have no lingering ties to anyone which is good. I don’t know how you’re feeling, but like I said last night, Clarisse, I really like you. I want to make this a complete relationship. It might be early to suggest it, but I’m not uncomfortable saying I want you to officially be my girlfriend.”

  “Really?” I couldn’t read the expression on her face. She didn’t look averse to the idea, but she wasn’t exactly bursting with excitement.

  “You don’t seem particularly enthused,” I observed dryly.

  “Oh! No, I am. It’s what I wanted myself. I’m just kind of surprised you do, too. At least this early on. Men are notorious commitment-phobes. To have you toss it out there so surely, it just took me by surprise.”

  I laughed softly, feeling just a little self-conscious. I’d just gotten myself a girlfriend in the space of three days. A week and a half if you counted from the day we met. Looking at it like that, it didn’t seem so weird, people often gravitated toward each other after one date. You know the stories some people have about having one date and being inseparable ever after.

  Clarisse looked at me softly before a slow, sexy smile spread across her face.

  “What do you say we go home and celebrate?”

  * * *

  Someone was an eager beaver because as soon as we entered my house, Clarisse whirled around to face me.

  “How do you want to do this?” she asked excitedly.

  Suddenly, I was on the spot. Somehow, I had to dig down and find my alpha-maleness, but the truth was, I found myself gritting my te
eth. Clarisse might as well have snapped her fingers, hoping to come up with the Dom who would take her to new places in her mind. Sadly, she was stuck with regular Wyatt Chase, the same guy who could sit at a computer and make shit up all day long with no clue about putting those kinky ideas into practice without seeming like a total douche.

  “Um, go to my room and wait for me. I’ll be in when I’m ready,” I replied, stalling for time. I could try to sort out something resembling a scene with her occupied in the other room. Scenes should come naturally to a writer, right?

  “Okay. Do you want me to do anything while I’m in there? Do you want to use any specific toy or toys? I’ll set them out on the bed if you want.”

  “No, I’ll decide on those later,” I said doing my best to sound firm. “Just, uh. Go kneel at the foot of the bed and wait for me.” There, that was very Dom-like.

  “Do you want me to keep my clothes on, or should I strip and be waiting for you naked?”

  “Oh. Hmm. Take everything off but your panties.” I said with a sharp nod, hoping to override the uncertainty in my voice with decisive body language. If she asked me any more questions, I was really going to be in trouble.

  “Okay, and would you like me to--”

  “Clarisse! Stop with the questions and go wait in my fucking room!”

  She jumped at the sharp bark in my voice and instantly lowered her head as a visible shiver went through her.

  “Yes, Sir,” she said softly, then made her way to my room with no further words.

  I felt like an asshole for practically shouting at her, but she was making me anxious. Every question made me feel my incompetence that much more acutely. I really wanted to make her happy, to fulfill her fantasies, but I needed a plan. I should have been trying to create one in my head as soon as we decided to explore whatever this was. But that was me, Mr. Fly-By-the-Seat-of-His-Pants. I never even had a plan when I started a new book. I just sat and let the words come to me. I didn’t have that luxury now.