Mission Statement

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Mission Statement Page 11

by Catherine Gardiene


  “You have the most amazing breasts. I could spend all night right here, torturing them.” He gave her a wicked smile. “Too bad I didn’t think to bring some clamps into the bedroom.” He felt her pussy tighten around him even as she gasped, and made a mental note to try that particular toy in the future.

  “Unfortunately all I’ve got to tease you tonight are these,” he murmured, wiggling his fingers where she could see them. He sat up on his knees and lifted her ass off the bed to almost rest in his lap, then palmed her breasts. “But these gorgeous tits of yours could use some attention.” Cupping them in his large hands, he rubbed his thumbs over her nipples. “Tender, aren’t they?”

  “Oh, God, yes,” she said huskily, her eyes widening at the touch. They felt warm and almost swollen in his hands. She shifted to push her breasts more fully into his hands, which brought him deeper inside her.

  He groaned but leaned forward to hold her in that position. He ran his thumbnails over her peaks before feathering his hands down her sides to cup her ass. He squeezed the soft flesh of her cheeks and began to move slowly in and out, holding her firmly in place.

  He brought one hand around to her stomach. Using his thumb, he pressed slowly down from the top of her clit to the throbbing tip. Because his thumb was dry, it pulled the hood down over the sensitive head. Then he drew it back.

  Repeating that movement, he continued to rock forward and back, moving in and out of her at a languid pace. He brought his other hand back to her nipple and began to tug again, following the same rhythm.

  She tried to move with him, but he had intentionally placed her so that she couldn’t get any traction. Her shoulders were barely touching the bed, her ass lifted completed onto his lap, and her pussy impaled on his cock. Even though she wasn’t successful, he gave her a sharp slap on the hip to still her movement. She needed to learn who was in control.

  Gradually he increased the pace until he felt her squirming beneath him. He grabbed her ankles and pulled them up over his forearms, finally stretching her out to pound into her. He continued to change the angle of penetration, seeking her G-spot, until he heard her gasp. Sucking and nipping at her breasts, he struggled to focus. His thrusts became more erratic as she writhed beneath him. They were both so close.

  Moving his hand between them, he spread her pussy lips with his fingers and pounded as deeply as he could. Once his fingers were wet, he began to pull on her clit, bringing her closer to release. He lifted his head to watch her, wanting desperately to see her face as she unraveled beneath him.

  “Open your eyes, sweetheart. Let me see you come.” He licked his fingers to savor the sweet taste of her before returning his hand to drive her over the edge. He rubbed her clit and drove into her mercilessly. Eyes hooded but still open, she shattered. Seeing her fall apart, he came inside her, the clenching of her pussy drawing out his pleasure.

  He collapsed on top of her, panting. The aftershocks of her orgasm sent shivers down his spine as she stroked his cock inside her. Reluctantly he pulled out, somehow summoning the energy to dispose of the condom. After returning to the bed, he sat next to her to release her restraints.

  “You were magnificent, sweetheart. Absolutely breathtaking.” He continued to murmur words of satisfaction and encouragement as he massaged her wrists and placed her arms back on the bed. Rolling her over, he took a bottle of lotion from his nightstand and used it to massage her shoulders. She flinched at the initial cold but then softened under his attention.

  Content that she had suffered no ill effects from being restrained, he propped himself up at the head of the bed and tucked her in next to him, stroking and soothing continuously. She hadn’t said a word, and it was starting to worry him.

  He had no doubt she’d enjoyed herself, but this was where things had fallen apart the last time. He needed to maintain their connection somehow.

  Snuggling down next to her to wrap her in his arms, he kissed her cheek.

  “Vicki? You okay in there?”

  She mumbled in response, and he lifted her chin so he could see her face.

  “Hey.”

  She gave him a slow smile. “Hey.”

  “Are you…” His voice trailed off. He maintained eye contact, willing her to open up to him.

  “Yeah. Um… you kind of wore me out, you know? I’m just…” She seemed to search for the right word. “Wrung out? Shattered.” She blushed. “I’ve never come so many times at once like that.”

  “So you enjoyed yourself?”

  She slapped her hand on his stomach. “I think the neighbors know I enjoyed myself. Unless you have profound deafness, you don’t need me to tell you that.” She rolled so that she was flat on her back, putting the arm that wasn’t trapped underneath him behind her head and looking up at the ceiling. “It’s a lot to take in.”

  “Sweetheart, that was nothing.” He chuckled.

  Snapping her head toward him, she barked, “Nothing?”

  Laughing, he continued. “That was a poor choice of words. It certainly wasn’t nothing, just that that was fairly mild. Things will be much more intense when I have some time to think. That was practically vanilla. Remember, I was all set to behave.” He glared at her sternly again, but she just rolled her eyes.

  “It’s late. We should probably get some sleep.” She started to object, but he silenced her with a look. “You’re not driving home exhausted in a snowstorm. I’ll take you to your car in the morning.”

  He gave her a toothbrush and let her use the master bathroom while he used the guest bath. He padded back to the room in a pair of low-slung flannel pajama pants, rubbing his eyes. God, I’m tired too. When he got back to the bedroom, she was snuggled under the covers looking absolutely adorable. The sight stopped him in his tracks. It had been a long time since he’d shared his bed with a submissive. Seven years. Hell, longer than that. And he believed there was a good chance that Vicki was, in fact, a submissive. The idea thrilled and frightened him in equal measure. He sensed he could lose himself in her easily. It had been so long since he’d let himself really get to know a woman, and he wasn’t sure he was capable of letting anyone in again.

  He turned off lights as he worked his way to the bed. As he slid under the covers, he noticed she was wearing one of his T-shirts. When she saw his reaction, she quickly spoke.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I went looking in your drawers.” She smiled. “Since you went poking around in my e-reader, I figured fair was fair.”

  He sat up. “Well, my dear girl, you’re probably going to find things seem slightly out of balance more than once in the future. So we might as well start now.” He reached down and grabbed the hem of the T-shirt, pulled it quickly over her head, and threw it to the floor. “When you’re in my bed, you’ll be naked. Always.” He slipped the covers over the two of them and pulled her back to his chest. “I promise you, sweetheart, you won’t get cold.”

  He reached to the nightstand and turned off the last light before curling up beside her, kissing her on the shoulder. “Good night, little sub.”

  As he held her in his arms, he knew she was struggling with what had happened between them. He held her loosely, but he held her. If she’d tried to leave, he would have stopped her, made her talk it out. But he could tell she wasn’t a talker, at least not right away. They’d have to work on that. The tension in her body led him to believe she was reviewing what they’d done, studying and analyzing in her usual fashion. He gave her the processing time he thought she needed, but he was relieved when he felt her drift off to sleep.

  If he’d been forced to guess at the outcome of her inner debate, he’d have declared it a tie. Her sigh before finally giving in to sleep had been one of resignation, perhaps acceptance. But not one of excitement or commitment. That will come. He drifted off to the realization that he would do anything to help her get there.

  His internal alarm woke him ahead of schedule as usual. He watched her sleeping, curled in his bed, as he considered his next move.
Finally acknowledging the time on the clock, he rose to shower. Images of her, tied spread-eagle on his bed, open for his pleasure, rose in his mind as he stood under the punishing spray. He shoved the thoughts from his consciousness, knowing he had to get to work. He truly wanted nothing more than to spend the day exploring with her, exploring her, but Snyder had a break in the case that had to be pursued.

  He heard her moving around the room while he dried off. Stepping into the bedroom, he found her buttoning her shirt, almost fully dressed. She gasped at his nakedness before she caught herself; then she looked down at her buttons as if it was the first time she’d ever used such things and they required her full concentration to operate them.

  “Good morning, sweetheart.”

  She was forced to look up, and she made an obvious attempt to look directly at his face, avoiding his naked body and his hardening cock with considerable effort.

  “Uh, good morning.”

  “I thought I told you that you were to be naked in my bedroom, always,” he said, his voice like steel, hard and cold.

  She sputtered. “What? I thought… I mean, you have to drive me…and you have work, so I just assumed—”

  He suppressed a chuckle at her confusion, knowing it would upset her if she thought he was laughing at her.

  “In this room, you have to let me do the thinking. I’ll let it go this time. You still have a lot to learn, though.” He smiled. “I’ll get dressed, and we can have some breakfast. Do you want something clean instead? I’m afraid I can’t help you with pants, but I can give you a shirt or a sweater if you’d like one.”

  She shook her head, frowning. “That’s not necessary, but thanks. I’ll be fine for the ride home. It’s no big deal.” She shoved her hands in her pockets and looked at the door, still studiously avoiding any view of his body. “I’ll just go make us some coffee.”

  The coffeepot had turned off automatically, but the pot and the filter were dirty; their rapid departure the night before had left a mess for the morning. When he joined her in the kitchen, he noted she had cleaned up quickly and was measuring the grounds for a fresh pot. He offered to scramble some eggs, and she declined.

  “You have to eat something. How about some cereal?” She shook her head, and he glared, pulling out two bowls and two spoons despite her refusal. Placing several different boxes on the table along with the milk, he pulled out a chair for her to sit. He poured them both coffee and sat down.

  Satisfied when she’d helped herself to a small bowl of granola, he leaned back in his chair and smiled.

  “Well, this is embarrassingly out of order, but can I have your number?”

  She snorted and looked up from her coffee cup.

  “Are you sure you want it?” she asked, her fear hidden under her teasing tone.

  He leaned forward. “You can either give it to me, or I can tie you to the bed again so I know where to find you.” She wasn’t the only one who could tease, he thought. “I want to see you again. This weekend.”

  She swallowed. “This weekend?”

  “I still haven’t taken you out to dinner.” He touched her hand before she could pick up her coffee cup again. “I’d really like to see you tonight, but I’m not sure when my day is going to end. We could wrap this thing up today if we get lucky. But last night wasn’t how I’d planned to woo you, you know.”

  “Woo me? That’s an awfully old-fashioned term for someone who…” Her voice trailed off.

  He smirked. “Someone who ties women to his bed and fucks them senseless?” he offered. Not waiting for an answer, he continued. “I told you that was one part of me. I’d like you to get to know the rest.” Winking, he added, “And there’s more to Domination and submission than what we did last night. I get the feeling you’d like to learn more about that too.”

  He saw the blush stain her cheeks before she lowered her gaze to study her cereal bowl, hiding her face behind a curtain of hair.

  “Only what you’re willing to do, sweetheart. That’s all,” he said softly. Seductively.

  “Where’s your phone?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  They’d engaged in relaxed conversation during the drive back to the parking garage, and she’d been relieved he didn’t force her to talk about what they’d done the night before. As much as she’d already dissected the entire experience, she wasn’t yet sure how she felt about it.

  After starting the car, she’d sat in the seat, pretending to let the car warm up while she gathered her wits again. There was no question the sex had been fantastic—like nothing she’d ever experienced—but she was terrified. What kind of a freak am I to have enjoyed it so much?

  She had listened carefully for the sound of his rhythmic breathing after he’d turned off the light, holding off her panic until she was certain he had fallen asleep. Little sub? Is that what she was? How could he know she was a submissive when she didn’t know it herself? Hell, the only time she seemed to enjoy being bossed around was when she was horizontal.

  Not really true, she thought wryly. She’d been standing up the whole time they had sex in Aruba.

  Mentally shushing her inner snark, she tried to process what had happened. He’d given her orders to obey, and she’d been aroused by it. He’d restrained her, and she’d not only gone along willingly, she’d felt every sensation more intensely. But what about pain? He’d smacked her ass a few times and her hip, but those weren’t the kinds of punishments she’d read about. Certainly nothing like the things she’d seen on the Internet.

  If that was who he was, how would she ever be enough for him? She’d spent her entire life not being enough for her partner when it came to sex. Now that she’d finally found something that really aroused her, made her want in a way she’d never known, she was still going to be less than expected when all was said and done.

  She sighed, swallowing a sob. It was too much. All of it. She had feelings for the man who had held her wrapped in his arms, feelings she couldn’t explain even to herself. He’d taken her to a place she hadn’t known existed, but he’d been careful to tell her it was nothing. There would be more, and more scared the shit out of her.

  A battle was brewing in her head. She’d promised him she wouldn’t run. But he’d also said if she couldn’t be who he wanted her to be, she needed to be honest about it for both their sakes. Someone had hurt him once. She could see it in his eyes. Whatever had happened, it certainly made him sure of one thing. He needed someone to submit to him.

  Was she brave enough to try?

  Realizing it was a decision she was never going to make rationally. She listened to her gut. He made her feel…light. Unburdened. Something about him made her feel safe and cared for, something she hadn’t really felt in a long time, but at the edges of her awareness, there was anxiety. Anxiety about the way he overwhelmed her, made her lose so much of herself.

  For almost a year, she’d been crushed under the pressure of her job, her marriage, even her own sadness. When she’d finally realized the job and the marriage were over, some of the sadness lifted, but in its wake there was fear. She’d been “Type A” her entire adult life—focused on establishing her career, finding a husband, building a family, making a life for them. For the first time, she had no destination.

  But instead of freeing her, that reality scared her to death.

  With Michael, she knew it would be okay if she didn’t have the answers. Unfortunately that part of him that was nonnegotiable scared her too. She needed to figure out which scared her more.

  The drive from the city to her house was only forty-five minutes long, but she stopped along the way to get some coffee. She got a cup of Dunkin’ Donuts hazelnut at a shop that had never heard of her, had no reason to glare when she pulled up to the drive-up window, and wasn’t boarded up because too many customers couldn’t afford a three- dollar cup of coffee anymore. She pulled into the parking lot after exiting the drive-up window, reluctant to return to the town she used to call home.

 
Steeling herself, she pulled back onto the highway and headed south. She needed to sell the house. She could go anywhere, but she really wanted to stay close to the kids if she could. But she had to get out of Glaston. What she really needed was a fresh start.

  Her to-do list hung on the refrigerator, reminding her of the things she wanted done before she listed the place. She changed into sweatpants and a warm fleece pullover and got to the first order of business: clearing the snow from the driveway. The snowblower was possibly the greatest invention in the history of mankind, she thought. Well, perhaps penicillin and electricity were ahead on the list, but only by a small margin. And epidurals—no question those had changed the world for women everywhere. But the snowblower was definitely in the top five. The driveway and walkways were cleared in short order, and she went back inside.

  She set a pot of coffee to brew and took a long, hot shower. Her shoulders were sore and parts of her ached, but the pounding spray went a long way to loosening her up. Once she was dressed and enjoying a steaming mug of caffeine, she fixed herself some lunch.

  The emptiness of her days since the separation and the layoff drained her. The to-do lists and the errands did little to fill the void. Normally she would have slept late, which killed time very effectively—getting up early with Michael that morning forced her to fill extra time. She decided it was time to tackle all the boxes in the attic that had followed them from place to place.

  Corporate moves meant you didn’t have to think much when you relocated. Movers came and boxed everything, putting stickers on all of it and unloading and unpacking on the other end. While it was easier on the family at the time, it also meant it was easier to accumulate things you didn’t need. There were boxes with three or four different colored stickers, boxes that had never been opened and simply been moved from one house to the next, several times.

  She knew opening them could be a painful visit to the past, but it might also prove cathartic. Tackling the job with hopeful resignation, she started pulling boxes into the living room. Once she’d brought down ten boxes, she got started. Quite a bit of it was nonsense, like old magazines and tax returns well past the date they needed to be kept. But there were some special things too: the kids’ report cards from elementary school, the apron Kelly had made for her at camp in the third grade, Kevin’s first hockey trophy. Bits and pieces of their history, she realized.

 

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