by Diana Hunter
“It’s supposed to kick up into a doozy of a storm,” Lauren informed him.
“I battened down the hatches earlier.” The room darkened as the sun went behind the clouds. “Your car windows up?”
“They are.”
John took her in his arms and lay back on the bed. “Then we have nothing to get up for, do we?” His lips pulled on her earlobe and Lauren let her body relax.
“Nothing to get up for at all,” she agreed.
Chapter Twelve
Lauren drifted inside a very pleasant dream. She lay on a sunlit beach, half buried in the sand. Waves lapped at her back but she felt no sense of danger. Instead she felt warm, cocooned, safe. Sighing, she nestled deeper into the softness of the pillow.
Pillow? Wait. Where did the sand go?
Opening her eyes, her gaze fell on a wonderful sight. John lay on his side beside her, his beautiful blue eyes watching her as she slept. His hand caressed her back and she sighed again, giving him a lazy smile.
“Good morning.”
“Morning.” She frowned. That didn’t sound right. Her nose wrinkled as she realized what she’d done. “I fell asleep! We were talking and then you were kissing me and I felt so wonderful—and I fell asleep. How terrible!”
John chuckled. “I would’ve been surprised if you hadn’t. I put you through quite a bit there.”
“You’re not mad? I mean…”
“Why should I be angry at something that gave me time to watch you unguarded?” He moved his hand when she stretched and rolled onto her side. “Besides, it’s not really morning. You only napped for about twenty minutes.” He checked the clock. Nearly five in the afternoon.
“Well, I guess I don’t feel so bad then.” In truth, his words made her feel warm inside again. He liked watching her, he liked playing with her, he liked talking with her and he hadn’t run away after her panic attack. John was dangerously close to being a serious boyfriend.
“How are you feeling? Physically?”
Lauren stretched again, then ran her hands over her breasts, her stomach and her hips. “Everything seems to work just fine.”
“Think you’re ready for another round?”
She cocked her head at him. “You really think you’re going to get any more orgasms out of this body today?”
“What say we find out?”
Laughing, she threw off the comforter and sat up. “I’m yours to command.”
He stood and gestured to her. “Then stand.”
Even as she did so she got that little shiver of excitement tinged with fear again. Was that because all this bondage stuff was still a novelty? Or because the very nature of what they did held an element of danger? Whatever the reason, the tingle felt good and she wanted to do this over and over again.
He stood in front of her and suddenly she felt very small. Her head barely reached the top of his shoulders, which were nearly twice as broad as her own. She’d felt the strength in the corded muscles of his arms and knew he could crush her without even working up a sweat. Tipping her head back, she gazed up at him and smiled her trust.
“Kneel before me.”
An order one might give a slave. Or a submissive. Or a woman trying to find her way between them.
Slowly she sank to her knees. Her forehead came to cock-level and she suppressed a smile. He did have a gorgeous cock. Thick as her wrist and long enough to capture her attention. At some point in his life he’d been circumcised, so the tip shone clear and open to her. Last time he’d tied her hands so by default, there’d been a “look but don’t touch” rule in effect. Now, however, she wasn’t bound at all. No cuffs, no ropes, no gag. Just her.
And just him. “Explore with your tongue only,” he instructed her.
The smile she had suppressed a moment ago now played at the corners of her mouth. She already knelt up as far as she could to reach his semi-erect cock. From this position she could easily touch the tip with her tongue, although, as she got him hard, that would become a problem. Stretching her tongue out, she took a tentative lick, much as one might make a quick lick of a postage stamp.
Not bad. She took a long lick up the side of his shaft as far as she could reach. Definitely not bad. He tasted of salt and musk. With a small bob of her head, she got herself to the underside and gave him a long, lingering lick from near the base of his cock to the tip.
Her reward came in two parts. First came the strangled noise he tried to cover as a cough followed quickly by the rising of his cock to full erection.
Of course, now he was harder to reach. But then, he’d said “explore” so she leaned in to lick the bottom of sac that dangled tantalizingly close to her face. She wanted to open her mouth and suck in each testicle, yet he’d also said to use only her tongue. Like giving him a cat-bath, she decided, and shortened the length while increasing the frequency of the licks.
He stopped her with a hand on her head. She drew back, almost disappointed. Hadn’t he liked what she did?
John sat heavily on the side of the bed and, with a simple gesture, beckoned Lauren to take a position between his knees. She obeyed without hesitation. Giving blowjobs wasn’t hard and she liked to think she had some skill. In fact, she liked giving them. John’s size raised some concerns, but then again, a challenge never daunted her.
“Mouth only,” he told her. “No hands.”
Nodding, she stared at his cock a moment as if trying to decide her best course of action. Locking her hands behind her back, she leaned forward, using her nose to raise his cock so she could get to the underside.
She definitely liked his scent. For a moment, she paused there, just inhaling, letting her exhaled breath warm his skin. Then, with a second long, slow lick, she traced a path along the bottom of his shaft from the base all the way to the tip, where she again paused, his cock resting on her tongue as her breath teased him. Her reward came when he sank a little lower on the bed.
Encircling the tip with her lips, she lightly closed on his sensitive flesh, using her tongue to explore the wine-dark skin. So hard yet so soft to the touch. Her eyes closed as her tongue delivered information that made her long for a more intimate exploration.
His slit filled with the white precursor to his ejaculation. She felt it form on her tongue and licked it away, eager for a more specific taste of him. He groaned and her eyes flew open to make sure he was all right. Then his hand rested on top of her head and she settled into her task once more.
Using small bobbing motions, she now quickened her movements, craving more of his taste. She dug her fingernails into the opposite elbows behind her back to keep from bringing her hands into play, she yearned to cup his balls and give them a squeeze. Her lips moved over the ridge of skin that separated tip from cock and her tongue darted over and around the rounded end.
His breathing deepened. She was fully into her task, taking her cues from his small movements. Again her pace quickened.
She couldn’t take all of him in her mouth, she knew that. But she could take some and now she did, lowering her mouth to go as deeply as she could. His hand on her head urged her deeper. Taking a deep breath, she pushed forward, feeling his cock hit the back of her throat. From somewhere deep inside her came an overwhelming desire to serve. She wanted him to use her for his own satisfaction. She wanted to be worthy of him.
She pulled back, rubbing her lips over that wonderful ridge again. Once, slow and easy, twice a little quicker, three, four and five times in quick succession before grabbing another breath and plunging him deep into her throat again and again and again.
“Use your hands and accept my cum.”
His words, urgent and low, penetrated her concentration. Without hesitation, she brought her hands up, one to cup his wonderful sac, the other to rub the skin of his shaft. Keeping her mouth rubbing over the tip of his cock, she urged him forward, faster and faster.
Salty liquid touched her tongue, his cum spurting out faster than she could keep up with. Keeping her mouth open, she
let him fill it, closing to swallow and opening for more like a bird being fed. Cum covered her chin, her nose, her cheeks. It dripped down to land on her breasts and yet she didn’t move, wanting every last drop. Gently giving his balls a squeeze, she captured the last drops with her tongue before licking the cock head clean of all traces.
Her movements, slow and quiet now, brought him down. She leaned back to watch the last vestiges of his orgasm. His eyes opened on her, lazy and sated. Lauren smiled shyly. “You liked?”
“You have a talented mouth.”
Inside a small pleasure blossomed. Over the years she’d given blowjobs, but not one of the men she’d given that gift to had called her mouth “talented”. She found she actually felt pride for that talent.
“Go and get a warm washcloth from the bathroom. Bring it here and finish cleaning me.”
She stood, her muscles protesting slightly at the unaccustomed use they’d been getting. Ignoring the small discomfort, Lauren gave him a small bow and a smile before turning to do his bidding. A large mirror hung over the sink and as she let the water run, she took a good, long look at herself. Her hair caught in and stuck to the cum along the side of her cheek. While she’d swallowed what she could, John was nothing if not prolific and her face, neck and breasts were plastered in white cum. Making no attempt to clean herself, she wet the washcloth and wrung it out. This must be the D/s part, she mused. Not only doing what he told her, but putting his needs first.
She padded back to the bedroom, fully aware that she did so naked and covered in his cum. Deciding that felt sexy, she entered the room with a smile on her face.
John watched her clean him, his cum still covering her where it had fallen. Lauren positively glowed in the aftermath of what he’d done to her. For her. With her. Deciding all those prepositions fit, he took the washcloth from her hands. Raising her up on her knees, he palmed the cloth and started at her forehead.
The look of surprise almost broke his heart. Did no one ever treat her like the precious gem she was? He washed her face, turning the cloth over, capturing all his now-cold cum inside. When her cheek turned into his touch, he set his free hand on the other side of her face, his thumb running over the soft skin of her cheekbone.
Neither spoke as he cleaned her neck and breasts. When he finished, she took the cloth from him and stood, again giving him that little bow of obeisance. The first time he thought she was just playing along. This time he realized she meant it. He watched her as she left to take it to the bathroom, loving the way the marks of the ropes still lined her skin.
Not for the first time he considered whether Lauren might be more than just a partner in play. Yes, her overseas duties had damaged her. Yes, she still worked to adjust to life back here in the States. Yes, he had fallen in love with her.
When had it happened? When she’d had the panic attack in the parking lot? When she’d gotten up to sing at the pub? This afternoon when she’d shown up despite not really understanding what she was in for? Yes, to all of the above.
She walked into the room and knelt before him once more, her eyes still shining. He cupped her cheek with his hand again, loving her for it. With a fluid motion, he ran his palm along her arm to take her hand. “Come, I want you in my arms.” He pulled her up as he stood. Without hesitation, her arms went around his neck. Their lips met in a wonderful kiss of mutual contentment and John ended it only to swing her up into his arms. At her small cry of surprise, he grinned.
“You really are one hell of a woman, Ms. Lauren.”
“And you, Mr. McAllen, are one hell of a man.”
He kissed her once more before throwing her onto the bed. She squealed and giggled as he jumped on right beside her. Grabbing the comforter, he pulled it over them then once more pulled her into his arms, knowing he didn’t want to let her go. Ever.
* * * * *
They lay together for over an hour, occasionally chatting about little things, but mostly just enjoying the companionable silence. Lauren basked in the quiet, listening to the strong sound of John’s heartbeat, watching the rise and fall of his chest, reveling in the feel of skin on skin. Her hand absently caressed the fine hairs on his upper chest, loving the feel of muscle underneath.
The noises of the neighborhood came in through the open window, regular, everyday sounds that made Lauren smile. Somewhere a lawnmower worked to trim a postage-stamp-sized yard, kids had gotten up a game of kickball in the middle of the street, and—she sniffed—somewhere close someone barbecued. As if sparked by the wonderful aroma, her stomach growled.
“Sounds like the slave girl is hungry,” John commented, his eyes still closed. Lauren liked how deep his voice became after an afternoon of sex.
“She is. Is the harem Master also hungry?” she teased.
“I have no harem. I keep only one slave at a time.”
“At a time, hmm? Never been tempted for two-on-one?”
At that he chuckled and opened one eye. “There isn’t a man alive who would say no to that.”
She grinned and turned so her back rested against his side. “To be expected. I doubt there’s a woman alive who’d say no to being serviced by two men either.”
John came up on one elbow and Lauren twisted to see him.
“Is that something you might like to do someday? Invite another man in to play with you along with me?”
Lauren hadn’t really considered it but his words sent a shiver straight to her pussy. Yeah, she’d like to do that. She’d like to do a whole lot more with Big John. In fact, the more she thought about it, the hornier she got. Her blush gave her away and he chuckled.
“Then when you’re ready, I will make it so.”
“Don’t suppose you’d make something else so right now?” She rolled onto her back and ran her foot up and down his leg in a very suggestive move.
He raised an eyebrow and slipped his hand between her legs. Without compunction, she spread them wider to give him access, knowing what he would find. John laughed out loud when his fingers discovered what his suggestion had done to her.
“So the proper woman hides a slut inside.”
Lauren blushed, knowing she should be ashamed instead of feeling a flush of pride. “If being a fully formed, sexual creature is being a slut, then yes, I am.”
He brought his wet fingers up to rub them gently over her lips. Bending, he whispered something softly, following it with a tender kiss.
Lauren’s thoughts swirled. Had he whispered what she thought? She wanted to break the kiss and ask and yet, what if she were wrong? He deepened the kiss and she met him, passion for passion, her heart already knowing what her mind had just figured out.
His fingers plunged between her labia, sliding over her clit and past it, then back again, bringing up the juices from her now-very-wet pussy to rub them over her clit. Lauren would’ve gasped, but his lips still held hers. His tongue danced over hers, invading her as his fingers invaded her pussy, pressing in deep. She writhed under him, his thumb on her clit and his fingers in her vagina, his tongue possessing her mouth just as his hand possessed her pussy. With a small cry, she came for him.
He released her, wiping his wet fingers on her hip. She got up on her elbows and looked at him with admiration mixed with disbelief. “How many was that you got out of me today?”
“Seven.”
“Hot damn.”
Her stomach growled again, and John laughed. “Okay, slave-girl-slash-slut-slash—what was it you called yourself—‘fully formed, sexual woman’? I’m hungry too. Care to join me for dinner?”
“You bet! Apparently one works up an appetite after several hours of unremitting sex.”
“Go take your shower. I’d join you, but I think we’d have sex again and then we’d never get to dinner.”
She laughed and made for the shower. “Think it would be an excellent diet plan.”
In the bathroom Lauren looked at herself in the large mirror. Her hair hung in a disheveled mess and her cheeks bloomed with color
. The rope marks had faded for the most part and only a trace of color remained where her breasts had been tied, along with a few spots where he’d missed in cleaning up his cum. A small brush lay beside the sink and Lauren ran it through her hair, untangling it some before jumping in the shower for a full wash.
As the water splashed over her body, Lauren turned over the words she now felt sure he’d said just before giving her that last orgasm. Orgasm? Her thoughts derailed. Seven orgasms? Really? She ducked her head under the water in an attempt to refocus her thoughts.
John definitely had her attention. Life with him would never be dull, Lauren knew that much. He might be a history teacher by day, but by night? The man was one magnificent hunk o’ burning flesh, that was for sure.
She tried to imagine what life would be like with him as she washed her hair. He’d said they’d find their spot along the Master/slave continuum and then he’d playfully referred to her as his “slave girl”. She liked that. That he’d said it in play, that was, not that she was a slave. Could she go that far? Maybe someday, but no way was she ready yet.
Finished, she toweled dry, wrapped one towel around her hair to keep it out of her face and another around her middle as she ventured back to his bedroom. As she flipped off the bathroom light, she mused on those whispered words once more. If only she could be sure of what he’d said. For her heart very much wanted the words to be what she thought she’d heard, “I love you.”
Chapter Thirteen
“I have steaks in the fridge,” John told her as he passed her on his way to take his shower. “If you don’t mind, would you take them out? And the vegetables for grilling.”
“No problem,” Lauren told him and went to retrieve her clothes and get dressed.
But she couldn’t find her clothes. She was sure she’d folded them and left them right there on the dresser. Hunting around the room didn’t produce them either. She even looked under the bed where she only found a small handful of dust bunnies.