by Opal Carew
What? Why? This was cake, nothing hard or…
“It’s too soon. You’re already starting to float away and we haven’t really gotten started yet,” Burt said.
Taking stock of herself, she ignored him. There wasn’t any pain, no reason for alarm. She heard someone talking off in the distance. Sounded like they said something about someone floating away. Well, good for them. As for herself, she liked the way this felt. She hadn’t had anyone touch her like this, or put a flogger to her skin in so very, very long, and it was just so good, and…
Smack!
“Ouch!” she yelped.
Burton had changed up his strokes, broken the rhythm and the force of the blows to yank her back from the sub-space edge.
“Well that certainly worked,” she grumbled, her head clearing of any residual fog as he turned her to face him.
She glanced over at the table. He’d only made it to the fourth toy and she was toast. Damn.
“I want you to hear what I’m saying, Solie. Tell me you hear me.”
It took a couple of tries, but she finally said, “I hear you. Loud and clear.”
“Solie Shaw, you are the most desirable, together female I’ve ever met. You’re loving, caring, giving.”
Then his fingers were around her throat. Tightened just enough to make her aware of their presence, then a little bit more until she was keenly aware of exactly how much breath she was being allowed.
“You take care of your friends better than you take care of yourself.” He lowered his head for a passion-filled kiss that set her body on fire. The weight of his hand against her skin, the total control he had over her as he collared her neck with his fingers, made her feel safe, secure and sexy in a way that nothing else did.
“You have your shit together and don’t you dare allow the memory of some asshat to make you feel less than the spectacular woman you are.”
He nipped her tongue and then her bottom lip as he deepened the contact. Held her tight so that his chest pressed against hers, his silk against her bare skin. Rubbed back and forth until her nipples pebbled and ached. Breath soughed in and out of her lungs.
The palm of his free hand skated over a bare breast. Up, down. Back and forth. Then a tug and a gentle pull with thumb and forefinger.
“Does that feel good?” he asked.
He knew it did, but one of the rules was that she must always answer a question, even if she thought it was stupid. So she gasped out, “Yes.”
Then he tugged hard, harder, until the nipple throbbed and stung. The he stepped back just a bit to reach for something.
A second later, a riding crop tapped the tender skin of her breast. One, then the other, and back again. Over and over.
She squeezed her thighs together. Shifted up on her toes and back down, trying not to tug on the barely-there hook that her rope was laid over.
“Still good?”
“Oh god, yes. So good,” she babbled, unable to quite catch her breath as the hand around her neck forced her head to the right. He bit her.
“Ah god!”
Her determination to take it slow tonight slid down the river of her sensual desire. The moment the thick clear-pink heart with the little spiky things landed on the side of her ass cheek, her determination went clear out of sight.
She cried out.
“Sssh. Breathe through it, baby. You can do it.” Burton’s voice with just the right mix of encouragement and bossiness. The heart landed again, and again. She was sure to have bruises. The thought made her smile.
She would call that particular toy, “Brunhilda” from now on because it was one tough bitch.
Another blow. Burton wedged his knee between her thighs, knee rubbed against her clit.
It was over.
The wall around her vulnerability failed all together; and her emotions, infused with her true and natural sexuality, overflowed the banks of her need.
And she let it. Let it go. Let it take the path that it wanted to.
Until all she knew was the sensation of her man’s hands around her neck, teasing and tormenting her breasts, skating over her stomach and her panty-clad ass. Brunhilda’s sting on her ass, her thighs. Burton’s lips on her skin—sucking, nipping and biting.
Until knees began to buckle and…
“Please. Oh please, Burt,” she begged for more.
Burt lifted the rope from the little keychain hook thingy, picked her up and eased down into the oversized chair with her in his lap again.
Suddenly a blanket was over them as Burt rocked her back and forth.
A thought poofed into her head—Burt with others. Flickers of his landing a flogger or a whip across someone else’s skin. She’d even watched him create a butterfly pattern out of color-tipped needles on a woman’s back before.
But Solie had never seen him give anyone aftercare when a scene was over. No one.
Yet that’s exactly what he was doing with her. Using his hands to soothe, wrapping the blanket over her skin so she wouldn’t get chilled. Holding a piece of chocolate to her mouth, encouraging her to eat it. Telling her how well she’d done after such a long time out of the scene. Even massaging her scalp a bit as she fall backward into the floaty, endorphin-laced waters of her mind.
Chapter Five
It had been a hell of a week, but all her deadlines were met for her current clients, she’d picked up a new contract, and had even sent off a congratulatory email to the consultants in Japan who’d landed the new business.
All hail geeks, because without people like Solie, the world just didn’t turn. And that meant a nice living for her and her employees.
A glance out the window revealed an uncharacteristically clear day for the Pacific Northwest in early summer. Sunlight sparkled off the Sound and there wasn’t a bit of fog to be seen.
She wasn’t responsible for the weather, it didn’t keep a happy sigh from slipping past her lips as she linked her fingers behind her head, leaned back in her chair and actually put her feet up on her desk.
Yes, I fucking rock.
Add to that, she had a new-but-old fantabulous guy who’d given her space when she needed it, and hung around when she needed that, too. Burton had slept over this week and they’d began to develop a feel for each other.
Solie now automatically slipped on her new cuffs—-which she loved, by the way—the moment he walked in the door. She’d learned that he liked to be greeted with a deep, passion filled kiss rather than a “hello” or a “how was your day”. And he’d learned that while she could plan the hell out of a business trip-for-two, she was never going to be the domestic type. Good thing she had sense enough to have a housekeeper or she’d be up to her neck in at least a year’s worth of laundry.
She loved sharing her space with Burton. After she bought this place, Mac had designed her a Japanese bath, and Burton’s company had built it. Glass brick walls and shoji screens made the space bright and airy. Tiled floors and big windows kept it comfortably cool even when steam filled up the room.
Each evening after a dinner that thankfully neither she nor Burton had prepared, they’d soaked in her Jacuzzi tub until they were limp noodles and relaxed from the stress of their day. Then Burton had let her wash him from stem to stern, which was a delicious journey all on its own.
Skin heated as she thought of how she’d oiled and massaged all that golden, tanned mountain of a man. Burton had muscles on top of muscles, or at least that’s what it felt like under her fingers.
She’d sat, perched on his ass, worked coconut oil into the sculpted planes of his back, and along his ribs—he was ticklish, too—and down his hamstrings. Solie had paid special attention to his feet knowing that some days he spent a good deal of his day on them.
By the time she’d worked her way around to his front and down his thighs, his cock had been waving at her. God, she’d practically salivated with the desire to taste him. His natural scent mixed with the coconut oil had been like inhaling a pina colada. He just smel
led so…juicy.
He’s not even here and my mouth is watering right now. Gah!
Her reward for a job well done? Spankings. Lots and lots of spankings, followed by spooning until she’d fallen asleep. Burton knew she was two kinds of whores—a total shoe whore and a spanking whore. And this man delivered in both those areas.
What she really loved was that the man wasn’t interested in turning her into someone she wasn’t. He was interested in having her submission from her heart, not some contrived fake version of herself. And that rocked because that other guy…
Aw who cared about that other guy?
She now spent her time with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Domly. The up-close experience revealed exactly what kind of mojo he was packing. And Burton brought more to the table than she’d ever imagined.
She thought back on his words at Twilight Teahouse when he’d noticed her shoes and matching outfit. “Damn, those sexy shoes are meant to be airborne.”
Solie had smiled then. And couldn’t help but smile now.
She bounced out of her chair, happy with both her professional and personal lives. This called for dancing, which meant a flail of arms and legs around her office in some semblance of the Running Man around her office. Her body felt light and her spirit even lighter. Add the growing heat in her flesh as a result of Burton’s, uh, special attention. Damn near every night. All week long.
And, to top off her wonderful week, Solie had quietly made a visit to her doctor to make sure that her seven days of no sex were truly up. And yes, as of yesterday afternoon, sex with Burton was a-okay. And after all the delicious attention he’d showered on her all week, she really, really wanted to share the ultimate intimacy with this man.
So now, it was Friday. Time to play.
But first, Solie logged onto Kinkfest.com, something she hadn’t done since the last time when she’d peeked at a certain someone’s profile and ended up taking her battered heart from bruised to bloody, as well as getting her ass warmed in public.
Today she noticed a particular note on the “Today’s Favorites” page. The person who wrote the post asked, “Why do some people feel the need to test your affection, push you away just to see if you come back? Perform destructive actions repeatedly to hurt themselves and the bond they have with you? Is it that they don't feel they deserve to be happy? That if they have a good, fulfilling happy relationship that there is something dark hidden? To those people, I say that if you’re trying to sink the boat, have the basic decency to let others out of the boat first before you go down with it like some poor suffering martyred soul.”
Solie understood exactly where this woman was coming from. But unlike this female, Solie didn’t need to ask this question—she already had the answer. The time she’d spent over the last few weeks with both herself and her friends had helped blow out the fog of post-breakup pain-n-rage brain. Today, she was centered, clear headed. Perhaps even half-way in control of her life.
Solie re-read the woman’s post and smiled. Burt was right—Solie loved to be of service if she could. So she focused on her inner self, considered the woman’s questions, and then poured her heart into an answer.
She wrote, “I read your post and I hope what I have to say it helpful without sounding preachy. I recently went through something similar, and here’s what I truly believe—some people are just plain old broken. Common sense doesn't apply because they don't understand themselves. They are walking, damaged, abused, drama creators who are convinced it’s everyone's fault but their own.
“It’s Kinkfest.com’s fault. It’s Facebook's fault. It’s their mama's fault. Their ex’s fault. It’s the UPS guy’s fault. The weather man’s fault. When it comes to the pain they cause others, you could stand before them bleeding from a hundred cuts yet they will swear it wasn’t them who did the cutting; even though they’re holding the sword with your blood dripping from it.
“Some are narcissists. Some are sociopaths. Some are cyberpaths. Some are psychopaths. Some are just plain predators who specialize in sabotaging themselves and you. They cultivate uncertainty and are good at keeping you off-balance by sowing seeds of doubt. Next thing you know, you begin to second guess yourself in areas where you’d always been confident. And a place like Kinkfest.com is attractive to those types. They are, in various forms, psychological, emotional, even financial and physical predators.
“For a large portion of the population, there is no explanation for why these people “poke you with a stick” other than the most common reason—dysfunction. The end.
“Is this everyone? Nope. Not at all. But I do believe, after having contact with these types, that it is a plausible answer to your question. Learn the signs and if you find yourself ready to commit, run instead. And if you’re already in the boat, jump overboard and swim for shore.”
A quick check for typos and Solie hit the send button.
Amazing, the lift a few shared words could do for a person—and not the one receiving, but the one giving. With a spring in her step and a dash of pep in her attitude, Solie left the computer exactly as it was, grabbed the house keys off the hook, patted her shepherd on the head and headed out the door.
A broad grin spread across her lips even as the pack of drunk butterflies dive bombed her gut because Burton stood on the front porch.
How the hell a man could make leaning against a deck railing look sexy, she would never know. Her moment of surprise morphed into giddy expectation…and giddy was not a word she associated with herself. Ever.
But Burton just seemed to bring the “little” out in her sometimes.
She didn’t bother asking why he’d come here instead of meeting her at the local patisserie for lunch. Whatever his reasons, she didn’t really care. Solie just stood there and took him in for a moment. Yep, the man standing on her porch looked good enough to be her lunch rather than the soup and sandwich she’d planned to order shortly.
She still felt the impact of those mesmerizing blue eyes, even when hidden behind dark shades. God, he just hummed with a crazy vibrancy that made the skin on her arms erupt in goose bumps. Arms crossed a wide chest that was tastefully covered in his favorite, royal purple silk. He must be off work today. No pressed slacks or suit today. Instead he sported a pair of jeans that fit so perfectly she wondered if they were tailored.
Her next thought was curiosity as to where he preferred to have his things cleaned. Solie pulled back from that thought. She and Burton had already negotiated that point—she would not be taking on any domestic tasks for him.
For now, it was all about her, and her emotional and physical needs. Period. And the stubborn ass man wouldn’t be moved from that point no matter how much she insisted that she could handle more.
So as he waited for her to come down the steps she was back to ogling the muscled forearms that peeked out from beneath the short sleeves. They were ropey and well-formed, sprinkled with the same dark hair that was on his head and…
“Keep looking at me like that, Sols, and we won’t make it out of here.”
“Uh, and that’s bad?”
“Smart ass.” Then he just stood and waited with that damn brow raised. Solie bit her lip to keep from smiling but it didn’t really work. He grinned right back as she greeted him with the kiss he wanted, and the kiss she was beginning to love to give. Up on her toes, she simply said, “Hi”, and then poured herself into a lip lock that she hoped curled his toes.
When his arms wrapped around her and lifted her against his body with a moan, she lit up inside knowing that the simple contact had him making that delicious sound.
Set back on her feet, Burton stepped back as his fingers trailed over the skin of her neck. He took off his shades and Solie gulped. Oh man, the look he laid on her as he backed away, walked around to the passenger side of his truck and opened the door for her stopped the breath in her lungs.
“Stop eyeballing me, woman, and move your ass.”
After all, they were on a schedule and he still hadn’t
told her why he’d come to pick her up for lunch instead of meeting her at the eatery as planned. But the moment she got a good look at the sparkling mischief in his eyes, she was sure it would be an afternoon to remember.
* * * * *
“You’re always in such control. You don’t really have a choice, and I’m sorry for that. I know you long to relax, but you just don’t have the time, or the chance…or a person who will make you.”
He was right…but she didn’t particularly feel like admitting it just now so she sat, put on her “Me no need nobody” face and sipped her cola in silence.
“Today, I’m that person, Solie.”
He snatched her glass and slid his lemon water over to her side of the table. Head tilted a hard left as she started to open her mouth.
“Unless this is your diabetic cheat day, you’ll have lemon water with your food. Period.”
Fuck. And she really wanted that cola, more for the kick than anything else. After all, her successful week came with the sacrifice of a nice chunk of sleep. Even if the man across the table was responsible for some of those lost zzzz’s and late nights, if Solie was honest with herself—which she made a habit of doing—she needed neither the sugar nor the caffeine.
Burt sat back, all long legs, wide buffed chest and healthy tanned skin. So tall, it looked like someone had folded him into that chair. Add piercing blue eyes against the backdrop of jet black stylish hair, and he looked so delicious, she wanted to just gobble him up and skip lunch all together.
God, it was nice to look at a man and not have to fight that sick sinking feeling of betrayal in her gut, or that anxious knot lodged in her throat almost cutting off her air.
Taking in Burton Khrys was an exercise in decadence, plain and simple.
“Now, where were we? Oh yes, today I’m going to get you to think on nothing but us and what we’re doing together. No work. No clients.”
He’d reached across the table again, but this time work roughened fingers massaged her palm as he held her gaze. The words were smooth as silk, quietly spoken so only she heard, but her gut did a freefall at the underlying steel of his tone. And suddenly, all of the need to display her everyday bad-assness just…melted away. It felt wonderful.