He watched her ride the crest, turning off the vibrator as he sensed the spasms lessening, but still moving it slowly in and out of her. He let her come down gradually, finally easing the toy from inside her, then running his hands up and down her thighs.
“Your legs must be getting tired in this position. I’m going to unhook your arms so you can lie back.” She could only whimper. He reached around to unfasten the chain. She began placing tiny kisses across his chest.
“Aren’t you sweet?” he noted before shifting out of her reach as he disconnected the chain. “But not without permission.” He chuckled and then moved so that his mouth was millimeters from hers before whispering, “Permission granted.”
Her arms wrapped around him, and her lips pressed against his, her kiss pulling at his soul. While she kissed him, he gently guided her backward so she was lying on the carpet. Finally he broke the kiss and opened her thighs, kneeling between them.
“Thank you, sweetheart. But now let’s get back to you.” He ran his hands up and down the inside of her thighs, dropping kisses between her breasts. When he reached the chain, he clasped it in his teeth and pulled, earning a gasp from her. It was time to take them off.
He stopped for a moment at her belly button, swirling his tongue around the outside before plunging it in. Hands beneath her knees, he lifted her legs and pushed them outward, exposing her fully.
Her pussy glistened in the light, wet from her constant arousal and shattering orgasm. Her clit was still swollen and red. He gently licked up one side and down the other, coaxing it from under the hood. As it peeked out, he ran his tongue over the sensitive bud, earning a squeal from her as she shifted beneath him.
“Stay still or I’ll restrain you again,” he barked at her.
He sucked the delicate flesh into his mouth and teased it with his tongue, increasing the suction and then sliding two fingers inside her. He stroked and sucked until he knew she was on the edge again. Then he moved his lips back to her breasts, still plunging deep inside her.
Moving quickly, he unclasped the first clamp and watched as the tender peak flushed dark red a moment before taking it into his mouth, laving it with his tongue to ease the pain while he continued to stroke his fingers inside her. He rubbed her clit with his thumb and removed the second clamp, again waiting until she’d begun to experience the pain before soothing her with his mouth.
He felt her arch beneath him and knew she was close. Taking a moment to sheath himself in a condom, he pulled off the blindfold and positioned himself between her legs. Her eyes blinked from the sudden brightness before focusing on his face, the lids heavy with arousal and exhaustion.
“Are you ready to come again?”
She nodded. His eyes narrowed at her response, and she flushed.
“Yes, Sir,” she said confidently.
Pride flooded through him. She was adapting almost effortlessly, as he had hoped she would. He smiled and kissed her hard before settling himself at her opening. Then he rose up on his arms to watch her face as he filled her.
Chapter Seventeen
Seated fully inside her, he stilled.
They stared into each other’s eyes, lost in the moment. Relishing the feeling of her wet heat as she surrounded him, he wanted to memorize the look on her face, the pure want and need that he saw burning inside her. He knew the desire was echoed in his countenance.
She looked lost in the feelings he’d stirred inside her, drowning in the sheer overload of it all. The sudden absence of sensation pulled her under further. She moved infinitesimally, and his eyes narrowed. Immediately she froze and looked contrite.
Michael saw it the instant it happened. Her submission washed over both of them, making him jerk inside her as he felt himself impossibly grow even harder. Slowly, he began to move.
That’s it, sweetheart. Give yourself to me.
She was like a tightly coiled spring, almost vibrating in her motionlessness, a mass of pent-up energy waiting to be released. He reached down to lift her hips, changing his angle of penetration to stroke her more firmly, increasing the pressure.
A soft moan escaped her tightly closed mouth. The slap of flesh on flesh was the only other sound in the room, and her eyes widened with alarm when she disturbed it.
“No. Let me hear you. Let me know what I’m doing to you,” he commanded.
Her knees were bent, feet on the floor, and as she panted and moaned, her legs began to shake. He knew she was close, her eyes begging for him to grant her release. Wordlessly he denied her with a slight shake of his head.
“Hold out for me. Not yet,” he murmured. Increasing the pace, he pulled her firmly against his hips and bent forward, increasing the pressure on her clit with every thrust.
She whimpered, and a tear rolled down her face.
He reached for a throbbing nipple and pinched it.
“Now, baby. Let go,” he urged her as he pulled the delicate flesh roughly.
She thrust her hips as she clamped down on him, and his strokes became more erratic. By the time he growled through his own release, she seemed barely aware of him, completely lost in the frenzy of sensations and emotions flooding through her.
He stayed inside her, enjoying the feeling of her light spasms as she came down from her orgasm. The few tears that had rolled from her eyes when she held back had since dried, but new ones began to form, sliding silently down her temples to get lost in her tangled waves.
Vicki wasn’t the only one overcome by emotion. Overwhelmed by her surrender, Michael was flooded with affection for the incredible woman he held in his arms. Reluctantly he left the warmth and comfort of her soft folds and lay beside her, gently stretching her legs before pulling her tightly to his side. He kissed the tears from her face as he ghosted his fingertips over her ivory skin.
She shivered slightly, and he knew she’d quickly become cold as she came down from their experience. He reached for the fleece throw he’d stowed in his backpack, then pulled her into his arms so she was cradled in his lap. It was the one thing he’d put in the bag that he hoped to use more than any of the toys he’d brought; needing it meant so much more than any pleasure he could give her with restraints, vibrators, or clamps.
As she snuggled into him, he kissed her forehead, gently finger combing the tousled mess of hair tickling his nose.
Finally she stirred.
“Hi,” he whispered, smiling broadly.
She blushed furiously but gave him a watery smile in return.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
She seemed to take a moment to consider, as if she was doing some sort of mental inventory of all her senses before answering.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.” She tore her gaze from his and looked down at the blanket covering them both. “Where did this come from?”
He chuckled. “You were pretty out of it. It’s okay, sweetie. It happens sometimes. Usually it’s a good thing.” He smoothed the blanket over her lap, pulling it up as he went to cover her completely. “This came from my backpack, to answer your question.”
She giggled. “You’re like Mary Poppins. I’m not sure I want to know what else you have in there.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Mary Poppins? I give you mind-blowing, drive-you-to-unconsciousness orgasms, and you think I’m a nanny?” He tried to keep a serious face, but he couldn’t do it. “I prefer MacGyver or some other manly character who knows how to make simple tools do amazing things.”
They laughed together and eased back into reality.
“Well,” she said. “MacGyver was usually woefully short on actual useful stuff, even if he did cool things with tweezers and dental floss. I’d say you packed a lot more planfully than he ever did.”
“You should see what I can do with tweezers and dental floss,” he murmured in her ear, causing a shiver to run down her spine. “Besides, I was a Boy Scout, so I learned early to be prepared.”
Finally succumbing to the discomfort of their posit
ion on the floor and the feel of the carpet fibers digging into his bare ass, they rose. Vicki picked up her clothes, but Michael grabbed them from her hands.
“Something with easier access would be nice, don’t you think?” he asked, smirking.
She huffed and rolled her eyes. “Jeez, are you insatiable?” He smacked her on the ass, and she shrieked.
“You still have to pay for your rudeness from this morning, my dear. It’s probably not a good idea for you to add to it with snarky comments now.” She glared at him before heading down the hallway toward her bedroom.
He followed her, carrying his clothes and hers.
Entering the room, he whistled in appreciation.
“A four-poster bed? A girl after my own heart.” Chuckling, he dropped her clothes in the hamper he saw in the corner before pulling on his jeans. He slipped the flannel shirt back on, leaving it unbuttoned.
She stepped out of her closet, wrapped in a thick, fuzzy bathrobe that covered her from neck to ankles.
Shaking his head, Michael muttered about the need to go shopping and pulled her back to the kitchen.
“C’mon. Time to talk again.”
As he tugged her arm, almost dragging her down the hallway, she groaned. “More talking? What is with you? You’re worse than Dr. Phil!” She tried her best avoidance tactics. He parried well and deflected them all. He was determined not to make the same mistake twice. Michael knew that part of the problem was that Vicki was just not comfortable discussing sex, which was ironic considering she had no trouble reading it and no trouble having it. At least, no trouble that he’d observed. He was stunned by her willingness to try things, and when he saw the true submission in her eyes, the complete surrender she’d given him, he’d finally believed their relationship had a chance.
But he knew their journey wouldn’t always be as easy as it was then. Certainly the biggest risk lay in how she’d react to his introducing her to D/s and understanding what and who he was in the sexual part of his life. But once that was done, exploring together would involve testing both of their boundaries, something that would require open and honest communication. He wasn’t about to determine her limits by pushing her to safe word every time they tried something new. Or worse, holding back to avoid her using it.
Her participation and her honesty weren’t going to happen if she was shutting down or trying to redirect the conversation. Alternative strategies would need to be developed, he thought to himself, if he was going to succeed. The direct approach, asking what she liked and didn’t like, reviewing his observations of her reactions, wasn’t effective, even when he used his most alluring and playful tones.
It was going to take some thought. Rather than shut her down completely, he suggested they make dinner.
“Ugh,” she said, standing in front of the open pantry door. “I don’t think I have anything in the house to cook. I haven’t been to the grocery store in a while.” She ran her fingers through her hair and glanced sheepishly at the refrigerator. “I haven’t felt much like cooking lately. I find cooking for myself to be a bit depressing, actually.”
“It can’t be that bad,” he said optimistically. “I specialize in making something from just about anything. Being MacGyver and all. Let me see what you’ve got here.” He stood next to her and took in the barren shelves. Some cans of corn and stewed tomatoes, a box of rice that looked older than his car, far too many boxes of cereal and breakfast bars, and more Girl Scout cookies than he’d ever seen in one place in his life. Shaking his head, he walked to the refrigerator and peered inside.
Seeing nothing particularly useful, he closed the fridge door and looked in the freezer. Ahh. Enough diet frozen dinners to last several weeks shared space with some ice cream and a bottle of vodka.
“I should take you over my knee for the appalling lack of nutrition in this house, Ms. Simpson,” he said, tsk-tsking as he walked back to her.
She crossed her arms and glared at him. “Look around, Mr. Collins. Last I checked, this isn’t the bedroom. You can stow your spanking threats, unless you planned on fucking me on a bed of fettuccini.”
His booming laugh filled the room.
“You have to be the bravest sub I’ve ever met.”
“Who says I’m a sub?” She flinched as she said the word.
“Well, your body says it. I’d be willing to bet there’s a little voice in the back of your head screaming it at you right now. And I say it,” he added, his voice softening at the observation. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, and I’m respecting that for now, but I’m not going to pretend I don’t believe it while you process what happened before.”
Running the back of his fingers softly down her cheek, he smirked at her. “And you aren’t going to change the subject. You have to take better care of yourself. The stuff you’re eating may be fine occasionally when you’re in a rush, but it’s not meant to be an everyday thing.” He took her hand. “Let’s go grocery shopping. There’s more to life than frozen dinners, cereal and milk, and cold cuts. But the milk and the cold cuts tell me you’re shopping someplace.”
She pulled her hand from his grasp. “I go to the deli.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I like it there.”
He slipped his fingers under the belt of her robe, using it to turn her so she faced him fully. He wanted to see her reactions to this particular topic. He knew there was something underneath this, something painful.
“Well, we’re going to Wegmans. I like it there. We can buy some actual groceries, and when we’re done, I’ll cook you the best chicken marsala you’ve ever tasted.” He pulled her to him for a kiss, gently brushing his lips across her forehead before leaning down to whisper to her, “After dinner, we’re going to go shopping someplace else, because this robe doesn’t do your luscious ass justice at all.”
Before she could react, he pulled her down the hall so they could dress for the real world.
In spite of her obvious reluctance, she dressed and suggested they make a list.
“No list. We’re going to walk up and down the aisles and browse. You don’t have anything, so there’s no need to worry about overstocking, that’s for sure,” he said.
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
“Why not? I do it all the time,” he said casually.
She sighed. “You’ll see.”
Chapter Eighteen
They’d made their way through the produce section, and Michael noticed she studied the fruits and vegetables intently, making her choices carefully. He made sure to pick up what he needed for dinner, and also that she took things that would provide more nutrition than her frozen dinners and processed breakfasts and lunches. She glared at him several times, but he was immune to it.
She shuffled her feet as he perused the cheeses, and her impatience only grew as he walked slowly from one display to the next, taking his time and reading labels.
He also noticed she didn’t make eye contact with anyone at all. The same couldn’t be said for him. The store was crowded, as it was late afternoon on a Saturday, and for every shopper looking to grab what was needed quickly, there were two who were completing their regular trip to the store, pushing carts and sorting through coupons. He smiled and made eye contact with everyone. It was something he’d learned as a beat cop, and he’d never broken the habit. People upstate were much friendlier than the city where he’d grown up, where making eye contact could get you a split lip or worse with the wrong person. It had taken him a long time to feel comfortable doing it, but ultimately he found it comforting, a reminder of how much he’d changed his life.
Quite a few people seemed to recognize the woman by his side, but other than an occasional strained smile or quick averting of their gazes, nobody spoke to her. And she didn’t speak to anyone. He suddenly understood her lack of interest in grocery shopping.
Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, ignoring the slight pull she exerted to escape him, he continued to push the cart through the aisles. The p
eople who passed them sometimes expressed surprise at seeing her with someone other than her husband, but he noticed several people, almost exclusively women, smile at her.
Interesting. It seemed that sympathy for the wife of a cheater trumped dislike for the representative of the company that had abandoned them. He kissed her hair as they rounded the end of the aisle, his lips firmly pressed to her in plain sight of the registers.
As they walked up the next aisle—baby food and diapers, he noticed with a grin—she smacked his arm and tried to pull away.
He held her tighter. “In case you haven’t noticed, it seems seeing you with another man is winning you the soccer mom vote. I think whatever happened with Alan has given you a rare opportunity. They seem happy to see you bouncing back.”
She rolled her eyes. “They’re smiling at you. You’re handsome and fresh meat. I’m sure they’re wondering what you’re doing with me.”
He tried to look offended. “Fresh meat? I feel so…objectified.” He laughed loudly, and she shushed him.
They finished walking past the shelves of things she hadn’t needed in over fifteen years, and he headed for the meat cases opposite them at the end of the aisle.
“I need chicken. And you need protein in your refrigerator. Pick some stuff, or I’ll pick it for you.” She glared darkly but began scanning the items in front of her. “And if you weren’t so busy not making any eye contact, you’d realize they weren’t looking at me. You know, it’s possible that they’ve realized it wasn’t all your fault.”
Her head snapped up, and she put her hands on her hips, ready for a fight.
“Calm down, there, sugar. I’m not suggesting you’ve been wrong all along. But people react emotionally sometimes, do and say stupid things. Maybe they needed someone to blame and you were it.” She relaxed slightly but held her stance. “However,” he said quietly, “it’s possible that now they see you’ve been just as fucked by the whole situation as they have. Perhaps more, since you lost your livelihood and your family.”
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