Salvation

by Land, Alexa

  He met my gaze. “I don’t want that anymore. I want to leave all that D/s shit in the past. I just want to be normal, to care about someone and have him care about me. That’s it.”

  I picked up his hand and held it between both of mine as I said softly, “I can do that.”

  “I really don’t know why you’d want to, though. I mean, you see what I am now. You see the stains, the damage. You’d be so much better off with someone less complicated. Someone like Skye.”

  “Why’d you come up with him as an example?”

  “Because there’s obviously a strong connection between the two of you.”

  “Yeah, there is. He’s becoming a great friend.”

  “Nothing more?”

  I shook my head. “Skye did ask me out a few days ago, but I turned him down.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s not you.”

  Vincent grinned at that. After a moment, I got up and said with mock severity, “Bad news.”

  “What?”

  “I think your hair may have dried that way.” I smiled at him and tucked an unruly curl behind his ear. Then I said, “It’s probably wise to let the dust settle a bit after all of that. I’ll be in the kitchen. See you out there, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I went and rested my palms on the cool granite of the kitchen island for a while, sorting through all Vincent had just told me. And the more I thought about it, the less unusual it seemed. I really didn’t understand the dynamics, or the appeal, of a BDSM relationship. But wanting a way to escape from your life? Absolutely. That I got. It kind of put the rest of it in perspective.

  When Vincent joined me some time later, he was dressed in a pristine white polo shirt and a clean pair of khaki shorts. He was also barefoot, and had wet his hair down and combed it back neatly. I’d just begun pulling things out of the cupboards, and he asked, “What are you doing?”

  “Making frosting.”

  He took a bag of confectioner’s sugar out of my hands and said, “Oh no.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not going to let you frost your own birthday cake.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s your birthday cake.”

  “So?”

  “So it’s not your job to frost it.”

  “But if I don’t, you’ll miss out on my killer buttercream.”

  “So, impress me with this homicidally delicious frosting on my birthday cake. I’ve got this one.”

  “Deal. When’s your birthday?”

  “December.”

  I smiled at that, then leaned against the counter and watched Vincent work. He decided to make a ganache filling, and it quickly became clear that the guy knew his way around a kitchen. When I pointed this out to him, he said, “And here you thought I was only good at high speed car chases.”

  “You were oddly good at that. Lots of practice?”

  Instead of answering, he just grinned at me.

  As he poured some cream into a double boiler, I studied Vincent closely. He’d pulled back the curtain today and given me a big glimpse at the vulnerable guy that lived inside that perfect skin. It must have taken a lot for him to be that candid with me, since by all accounts, he wasn’t a person that opened up easily. It felt good knowing he trusted me with such incredibly intimate details of his life.

  It made me feel closer to him for another reason, too. I’d thought I was such a mess compared to him, and wondered what he could possibly see in me. I remembered how nervous I’d been the first time we spoke, and what a fool I’d made of myself as I floundered for what to say to someone that I considered vastly out of my league.

  But after that awkward start, I’d quickly and easily become comfortable with him. Now I knew why. I’d recognized a kindred spirit, someone every bit as lost as I was. He’d just disguised it a lot better than I did at first, until consciously allowing himself to open up to me.

  I came up behind him when he turned his back to me and slipped my arms around his waist, resting my head against him. He’d begun chopping some chocolate, and he put the knife down and turned to face me. He took me in his arms and fed me a little chocolate shard, and when I licked it off his fingers, his lips parted slightly. He fed me another piece, and I sucked on his finger this time as he watched my mouth intently.

  Vincent looked into my eyes as he whispered, “After all I just told you, do you really still want me?”

  “More than ever.” He looked surprised, but then he smiled softly.

  He let go of me for a moment, shut off the stove, and gingerly put the metal bowl of cream in the refrigerator. “Why’d you do that?” I asked.

  “So it won’t scald.” As he said that, he got a couple clean dishtowels out of a drawer and lightly draped them over the cake rounds.

  “Why would it scald?”

  “Because we’re about to get very, very distracted.”

  I grinned at him as I said, “Oh.”

  Vincent grinned too as he crossed the kitchen and took me in his arms. He kissed me with such raw need and intensity that it made my lust flare like gasoline meeting an open flame. We stripped each other as we kissed, and once we were both naked he just feasted on me, there was no other way to describe it. Kisses all over my neck and chest gave way to little nips and licks, and then his lips closed around one of my nipples. It felt unbelievably good, waves of pleasure radiating from my nipple straight to my hardening dick. He sucked it for a while before bending down and taking my cock in his mouth. As he was sucking me, I told him, my voice rough, “I need you in me, Vincent.”

  He lifted me onto the counter and pushed my legs apart, kissing me as he stroked my throbbing erection, then returned his mouth to my cock. After sucking and licking my shaft, he worked his way down to my balls. Then he went lower. I drew in my breath as he licked the sensitive skin between my balls and my opening, and I parted my legs wider, putting my feet up on the edge of the counter.

  When he went lower still, I almost stopped him. What he was doing was so totally intimate that for a few moments, it made me nervous and self-conscious. But then I stopped overthinking it and focused on the incredible sensation of his lips and tongue on my hole, kissing and licking me as he reached up and began stroking my cock.

  He took it further still, slipping his tongue inside me as his free hand came up and encircled my waist. I reached underneath me and spread myself open for him, giving him all of me. It felt so good. As his tongue penetrated me deeper, opening me up, preparing me for what would come next, I threw my head back and moaned.

  After a while, he raised his head and glanced around the kitchen. The closest thing to us was a butter dish, and for a moment couldn’t figure out why he scooped up a dollop of soft butter with two fingers. But when he brought his hand between my legs and massaged my opening, I suddenly understood.

  I laughed and told him, “I have to say it. I shouldn’t, because it’s such a bad joke, but I just have to.”

  He flashed me a smile. “Go ahead.”

  “You’re buttering me up! Literally. I never realized there was a literal use of that expression, but there it is!”

  He was still smiling as he said, “I’d have to let go of you to get the lube, and I don’t want to do that.”

  Slowly, patiently, he worked me open as he kissed me and stroked my hard-on. I’d never had anything in me before, and Vincent’s fingers weren’t small. Getting just one in me was a challenge, and I couldn’t imagine how his cock would ever fit inside me. But I trusted him, I knew instinctively that he wouldn’t hurt me and that helped me relax, allowing him better access to me.

  I reached over and fumbled with the butter dish, then took hold of his straining erection and began stroking him, coating him in the slick substance. I was equal parts excited and nervous, knowing what was about to happen. But I wanted this, I wanted Vincent to claim my virginity. It was just so right, I couldn’t even imagine giving myself to anyone else like this. I spread my legs a litt
le wider, sliding my bare feet farther apart on the edge of the counter as he worked a second finger into me. Finally, when he thought I was ready, he pulled back and asked me, “You sure about this? You can still back out if you want to.”

  “I’m totally sure.”

  “Okay, good.” He wiped his buttery fingers on a paper towel, then took my slick hand and wiped it off too. I wondered why for a moment, but then it made sense.

  He picked me up suddenly and my arms flew around his shoulders. The counter wasn’t at quite the right height, so he swung me around and pressed my back to the wall on our left. The tip of his cock pushed against my opening, and I wrapped my legs around his waist and focused on relaxing enough to allow him inside me. The fit still seemed absolutely impossible.

  The pressure built as he lowered me ever-so-slightly onto his cock. I was actually shaking, from nerves as well as arousal. I looked into his beautiful dark eyes and held his gaze, concentrating on that, and it helped calm me.

  He was so careful, easing me down onto him slowly. When the head of his cock entered me, I gasped and tensed up, then put my head on his shoulder and took a few deep breaths. I felt incredibly full, but to my surprise, my body was somehow accommodating him.

  “You okay, Trevor?”

  I raised my head to look in his eyes again as I nodded. He kissed me gently as he pushed a couple inches into me, then held still so I could get used to it. When he felt me relax a little, he began moving in me with short, contained thrusts. “Oh wow, that feels good,” I murmured. I’d really expected it to hurt, and when I realized it didn’t I relaxed even more, which allowed him to take me deeper.

  The force of his thrusts increased gradually. He reached between us and stroked my cock, and I moaned and began rocking my hips, riding him, using the wall behind me as leverage. As soon as I did that, he started taking me harder. “Yes,” I ground out. His lips met mine forcefully, claiming my mouth as he claimed my virginity.

  After a while, Vincent let go of my cock and carried me effortlessly across the kitchen. I marveled at his strength, the muscles in his back flexing under my splayed fingers. He laid me on my back on a big wooden table, my butt hanging over the edge, and put my ankles on his shoulders.

  He thrust into me slowly in this new position, but as I relaxed again and he saw that I was enjoying it, he took me harder and harder until his hips slapped against me. His cock hit a spot inside me that sent shockwaves of pleasure through my body, making me cry out and arch up off the table. His big hands grasped my waist, pulling me toward him to meet each thrust, and I moaned loudly as I reached down and stroked my achingly hard cock. He held my gaze steadily throughout all of it, which felt every bit as intimate as the fact that he was inside me.

  “Trevor, I’m gonna cum.” His voice was gravelly. I stroked my cock faster, and he asked, “Where do you want it?”

  “In me.”

  He seemed mildly surprised, but then he began pounding me relentlessly. After a few moments, Vincent threw his head back and yelled, thrusting hard, his warm cum shooting inside me. That was so incredibly erotic that it set me off too, and I began shooting all over my stomach, spurt after spurt, arching up off the table, yelling incoherently.

  It was so intense that it took a long time to come back to earth, my body shaking as I gasped for breath. He eased out of me carefully, then scooped me into his arms, holding me as our heart rate and breathing returned to normal. I was completely exhausted, so much that it was an effort to wrap my arms around his shoulders. He carried me to the guestroom and climbed onto the bed, then settled us in comfortably.

  “That was amazing. Thank you,” I murmured, struggling to keep my eyes open.

  He grinned and said, “You’re welcome. And thank you, too. Are you okay? I probably should have gone easier for your first time.”

  “No you shouldn’t. That was perfect.” I stopped fighting my eyelids and nestled against him. “Gonna nap. Be right here when I wake up, k?”

  He kissed the top of my head and murmured, “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “What time is it?”

  I sat up in bed and turned to look at Vincent, who was reclining on his side a few inches from me. He answered, “A little after two p.m., I think. Why?”

  “I was worried that I’d slept away the best birthday of my life.” I reached up and brushed his hair back from his eyes.

  “Nope, still plenty of birthday left. What do you want to do next?”

  “This.” I snuggled against his chest and he wrapped his arms around me.

  “Good plan.” He kissed the top of my head, then said, “We could do this same thing out by the pool if you wanted to.”

  “I don’t own swim trunks,” I murmured.

  “Well, not that you’d really need to wear any, but I think I saw some with your new clothes.” He leaned over and dug around in the shopping bag, which was on the floor right beside us. “Yup. She who shall remain nameless thought of everything. We should probably get you cleaned up though, so you don’t get your new suit all buttery.”

  “Oh man, I forgot about that,” I said as I sat up. “We probably totally messed up the bedding.”

  Vincent shrugged. “It’ll be fine. If it doesn’t wash out, I’ll buy my brother new sheets.”

  We showered together, but more quickly and efficiently than the last time. Afterwards, I put on my cute new royal blue and white swim trunks and said, “I’m surprised this isn’t a banana hammock.”

  He grinned at that. “A what?”

  “A banana hammock. You know, like a skimpy little Speedo or something. I say that based on the overall miniscule nature of my new Mr. Mario underwear collection.”

  “Shame that it isn’t.”

  “Is that what you’ll be wearing?”

  “Probably. I didn’t bring a suit either, so I have to go upstairs and raid my brother’s wardrobe. I’m sure whatever I find will be really tasteful. Be right back.”

  When he returned a couple minutes later, he was dressed in a pair modest of black swim trunks. “Johnnie must have taken all his banana hammocks on the cruise with him. The suits he left behind really aren’t up to his normal boytoy standards.”

  “Pity,” I said with a smile.

  Vincent grabbed some towels and sunglasses, along with a few bottles from the bathroom. I followed him out to the pool area, and after we got comfortable on a wide chaise lounge I picked up one of the bottles and looked at the label. “SPF 70. Think that’ll be strong enough for this white boy?” I flashed my companion a smile.

  “No,” he said with a grin, “but there wasn’t any SPF 2000 in the cabinet.”

  I laughed at that. “Thanks.”

  “You’re the one that described yourself as, what was it? Blizzard white?” He exchanged his glasses for a pair of shades and leaned back against the chaise, tucking a hand behind his head with a relaxed smile.

  I dug through the bottles and held up a container of baby oil. “What’s this for?”

  “I brought it in case you decide you want to fuck me while we’re out here.”

  He said that so casually, and I immediately got flustered. “Oh.”

  “I mean, if you want to.”

  “What about the giant bottle of lube in the shopping bag?”

  “It’s too weird. Just knowing who bought it for us, I can’t go there.”

  “Probably a good call.”

  He picked up a white tube of sunscreen and said, “But this comes first. Can’t have you bursting into flames out here.”

  Vincent used applying the sun block as an excuse to give me a slow, sensual massage. I relaxed under his touch, letting my eyes close as his hands slid over my skin, and murmured, “Don’t let me fall asleep again, okay?”

  “I won’t. Turn over and let me do your back.” He reached up and flipped a lever on the chaise, lowering it so it was flat, and I rolled onto my stomach, tucking my hands under my head.

  “I feel so good
with you, Vincent,” I murmured as he kneaded my shoulders, “and not just because you’re massaging me into a coma. I feel comfortable with you, which isn’t something that comes easily to me.”

  “Same here.”

  After a while I said, “I’ve been wondering why you’re so willing to open up with me, when from what I hear, you’re really not like that with other people. You’ve told me some really personal stuff.”

  “You’re right, I’m not like that with others,” he said. “I got into the habit at an early age of building walls around myself and keeping everyone at a distance. But the thing is, I’m pretty self-aware. I know doing that damages my relationships with people. So from the moment I met you, I just didn’t want there to be that distance between us, Trevor. I knew right away that I’d have to drop my usual façade if this had any chance at all of succeeding.”

  “I get it,” I said softly.

  “I guess I really don’t know how to regulate the flood gates, though,” Vincent continued as his strong hands rubbed my back, “Instead of just removing a couple bricks, I seem to have brought the walls down entirely. That’s scary as hell, in case you’re wondering. But I’ve always felt like I could trust you, so maybe it’ll be okay.”

  “It will be,” I whispered.

  I was pretty much a blob of jelly by the time he’d finished with me, but I sat up and grabbed the sunscreen as I said, “My turn.”

  “No, I just want you to relax.”

  “Don’t argue with the birthday boy,” I said with a grin, dispensing a dollop of cream into my palm, then rubbing my hands together.

  He looked like he wanted to argue, but finally said, “Okay, fine,” and stretched out on his stomach, both hands resting above his head.

  Vincent relaxed as I tried to emulate his movements, rubbing his back and shoulders as I worked the lotion into his skin. I’d never done this for anyone before, and I began to get a bit self-conscious, wondering if I was even sort of massaging him properly. “If I was totally doing this wrong you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?” I blurted after a while.