by Lynda Aicher
He focused everything on her, lavished his tongue around her clit and through her soft folds to find every spot that elicited a sound of pleasure from her. He rimmed her entrance, plunging his tongue deep to suck it back.
She directed his actions, rocking back and forth to seek her desire. He gave her everything he had, sucking her clit, flicking the tender bud with his tongue and using his mouth wherever she wished. Her soft sighs and moans were his reward. He needed to feel her climax and he used every trick he knew to get her there.
A groan tore from his chest when she gripped his dick, stroking his length. The slickness of lube glided against his oversensitive skin to tear his focus from his job. But he wouldn’t be distracted.
He dove back into his task, his face slick with spit and arousal that blocked out every scent but her. His orgasm rode the base of his cock, his balls full and aching with denied need.
“Fuck.” Her curse was a soft breath that overrode the wet sounds created by him. The desire to beg her to ride him was strong, but he didn’t.
Her pace increased in both her hips and hand. The pressure mounted, the urgency declared in the rapid breaths and beat of his heart.
“There,” she cried, going still. Her free hand clenched his chest, the nipple chain pulling taut, and he dove into her sex, sucking and flicking with his tongue until she broke. Her soft wail filled his ears, her juices coated his tongue and he continued, even though his air was desperately thin as her weight bore down on him.
The darkness closed around him, his tongue was tired, his jaw ached, but he didn’t stop. She lifted slightly, and he licked his lips to get the last of her flavor.
He jerked, his muscles strained when the hot warmth of her mouth closed over the head of his cock. She pumped his length, her tongue swirling over the tip and into the small hole until he begged for release.
“God, please. Please, Vanessa. Let me come.” The litany went unchecked as he lost himself to the wicked decadence.
Then the straps were gone, the snaps pinging through the air in shots of expectation. “Come, Holden.”
Pain flared across his chest in the next instant. The blood rushed into his nipples to drive away the deadened sensation with a thousand little knife stabs that raced straight to his groin.
The wave slammed through him, pulling from every limb to shoot out his release. His roar echoed in his head and he clamped onto Vanessa’s thighs. Her presence was all that held him grounded as his life pulsed through his dick.
He yanked her down to ravish her once again. He was wild in his assault, claiming everything as his until she tensed and cried out one more time. Only when her muscles weakened and her breath depleted to soft gasps did he relent.
His energy gone, he sunk into the mattress. He started to drift, the floaty exhaustion of release and contentment closing in to take him under. But not this time. He shook his head and reached for her, grabbing her wrist when she started to climb off him
“No,” he said, his voice firm, despite the weakness that plagued the rest of him. She turned to him, eyes wide with the vulnerability he longed to soothe. “Please. Stay with me, Vanessa.”
His final plea hung between them as the air swooped in to chill his damp flesh. She searched him, and he swore she hunted out his every truth and intention. He bared himself to her, showed her everything. He had no secrets left from her, nothing he wouldn’t show her.
Did she see that?
With a soft sniff, she swung her leg over him, twisted her wrist from out of his grasp and scooted off the bed.
His chest constricted, a sharp stab of pain shooting through his heart. He clenched his fist to keep from reaching for her again. He closed his eyes, unable to watch as she walked away yet again. A shiver snaked through him, the chill of the air sinking deep. The evening had been perfect, better than.
But this, this wasn’t how he wanted it to end. Not again.
God help him, but he wanted more from her. Probably more than she was willing, maybe even could, give.
He about jumped out of his skin when a warm cloth eased over his abdomen. His eyes flew open, reality tilting a bit as he found his Mistress wrapped in a white towel, taking tender care of him. Her silent approach was so uncommon it took him a second to process why. Her heels. The warning clicks had been missing.
The gentle strokes and light touches as she inspected his groin and cleaned away his release melted the ice that’d entrapped him when she’d walked away.
“Do you hurt?” She looked up at him, her hair cascading down her side to tickle his thigh.
“No,” he managed to answer. Everything kind of ached, but he had no idea if anything really hurt.
She encircled his balls in her hand, rolling them slightly before letting go. Shit. They were tender after being trussed up, but it was good. More of a dull ache he savored.
A bottle of water sat on the stand next to the bed, and she handed it to him. His throat was suddenly parched and he gulped the bottle down in long drafts that sated the dryness and replenished a bit of his energy.
She waited for him to finish, the silence settling around them in a not-quite comfortable, but not uncomfortable cloud. The urge to break the quiet poked at him, yet there wasn’t a real need.
Her brow pinched then flattened before she pinched her lips and nudged her chin up. “Scoot over.”
His breath hitched. The shot of hope and joy jerked a smile to his lips. He shifted across the bed, eyes never leaving her.
She chuckled, a soft rumble that erased the stiffness from her features.
“What?” he asked. Whatever it was, he’d do it again if got the same reaction.
The white towel tumbled to the floor to reveal his first unobstructed view of her body. Full breast, slim waist, perfect legs—the brief assessment was all he got before she slid into bed next to him.
“Stop gawking,” she teased, tapping his chin, which he was embarrassed to realize was hanging low with his open mouth. He snapped his mouth closed to another of her soft chuckles. She pulled the duvet over them before settling into the crook of his arm.
His sigh was long and filled with an immense amount of relief as he tightened his arm around her. “Thank you,” he whispered into her hair.
She cuddled into his side, her head finding a comfortable spot on his chest. Her hair fell in tangled stands over his arm and she wound a leg between his, completing their connection. He wrapped his other arm around her and hugged her tight.
“Thank you for everything.” His voice was raw again and he promised himself he’d never take this for granted. Not her or what they were building together.
“Rest,” she said, her breath skimming over his skin. “I’m not going anywhere right now.”
Those were the best words he’d heard all night. It was a small promise and another pass over the blue line that he chased.
Chapter Nineteen
Vanessa grabbed a mug and filled it with the fresh-brewed coffee before she handed it over to Holden. The shaking in her hand was disguised behind the movement and she spun away before he could ask any questions.
Waking up next to him had not been her plan. Talking herself into cuddling after the session had been monumental enough. But she never imagined she’d drift off to sleep with him, let alone still be curled up next to him in the morning. Sleeping through the night was a rare event for her unless it was with the aid of a sleeping pill.
But not last night.
She filled her own cup and blew out a hidden breath disguised behind the ruse of cooling her coffee before she turned back to him.
Dressed in the T-shirt and shorts he’d arrived in last night, hair bed-rumpled and sticking up a bit at the back, the image was so different than the macho hockey stud. It was also just a little too endearing. Somehow he’d settled into the bar stool and her li
fe like he belonged there.
He scrubbed a hand over his cheek, scratched at the beard stubble, then covered a yawn before flashing one of his stunning smiles when he caught her staring at him. “Thanks,” he said, lifting the coffee mug.
“You’re welcome.” She took a sip of coffee for something to do more than a desire for another hit of caffeine.
“You been up long?” He looked her over, no doubt noting her damp hair and clean workout clothes.
She shrugged. “A while.” Two hours to be exact. Long enough to stew on her actions and define the entire evening as another mistake.
His nod was a slow bob that said he didn’t buy what she was selling. However, he didn’t push. He took another sip of coffee, his movements calm and unhurried.
Crap. She didn’t know how to do this “morning after” stuff. She never had them. Period. Subs left the same night, and that was the only sexual interaction she’d had in years. She should be rushing him out the door, not offering him coffee.
The loud clunk and subsequent rush of water let her know that the automatic icemaker still worked. A glance out the window showed another sunny day with expected temperatures in the high eighties. The weather was always a safe topic. Yeah, and that was mature.
She cleared her throat, the rumble overly loud in the quiet. “Did the Scene work for you last night?”
His grin was quick and blinding. It deepened the creases around his eyes and stretched the scar that slashed across his chin. “God, yes. It was great. Thank you.”
The clear honesty warmed her and forced a smile to her lips. “I’m glad.” The coffee was warm on her throat as she swallowed it. “Was there anything that didn’t work for you? Anything you’d want more of?”
As his Domme, she wanted to ensure the Scene met his needs. As Vanessa, she was more than curious about what he thought. And where had that come from?
He set his coffee down, frowning. He was silent a moment, his thumb idly tracing the handle of the mug. When he looked up, there was a gentle softness to his features that was another contrast to the rough hockey player image. Her heart did a stumble and glitch that tripped her breath. She coughed into her arm, a flush warming her cheeks. What was her problem?
He was smiling again when she finished her little hacking fit. “You okay?”
She nodded, embarrassed. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“To answer your question, I enjoyed every part of it, but I really loved servicing you.”
She swallowed when the tickle returned to her throat to remind her to breathe. The two orgasms he’d given her had been amazing.
“What about you?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Did it all work for you?”
Did it work for her? She frowned.
“Did you enjoy it?” he persisted.
Many subs had asked if they’d pleased her, but Holden was the first to ask if she’d enjoyed it. “It’s my job to see to your needs,” she responded, the reply automatic.
He leaned back, the chair squeaking a protest. “When we started this, you said it was about mutual enjoyment. That we should both get something out of the Scene.” He leaned in again, his focus intense. “So, did you? Enjoy it? Was it what you wanted?”
Too much. The first thought that plowed through her mind was quickly rejected. She couldn’t say that. So how did she answer? The truth would reveal more than she wanted, or would it? Why was she overanalyzing the question?
When she didn’t answer right away, he eased from the stool and came around the island. His steps were measured but not predatory. His brow was furrowed again. The wrinkles over his eyes drew her attention to avoid his gaze. She should feel threatened and demand that he leave, move away before she was cornered.
Yet his relaxed approach wasn’t threatening. She set her coffee on the counter, a mental shake straightening the rigid rod in her spine. She didn’t back down. She hadn’t when she’d faced the ridicule and taunts after that awful night as a teenager or when every arrogant man thought he could walk all over her, and she wasn’t about to now.
She let her defensive anger settle on him and snapped her head up to nail him with the glare that had most people backing off. He didn’t even falter.
“It was only a question, V.”
V—only family and close friends called her that. Not subs or men who weaseled their way into her life. “It’s Vanessa.”
“Why is that so hard for you to answer?” He studied her, ignoring her statement that had bounced off him before it landed.
The bright sunlight that lit the kitchen with its cheery announcement of the perfect summer day also showed the concern and confusion in his eyes. He wasn’t trying to manipulate her, was he?
She didn’t have to answer him. She didn’t have to do anything. But he didn’t move, not toward her or away. His steady persistence was once again in play, and it both infuriated and calmed her.
The chuckle bubbled out of her on an exasperated wind that turned into another damn sigh. She was going crazy. He was driving her crazy, to be exact.
“What?”
She shook her head. “You.”
“What’d I do?”
“You’re here,” she said too fast and honest. “Damn it. You shouldn’t be here.”
“Okay.” The word was drawn out in a slow tempo of uncertainty. “But I am, and that doesn’t answer my question.”
What was the question again? “Did I enjoy it? Our Scene?”
“Right. Did you?”
This sigh was so large it could’ve been measured in knots. “Yes. I enjoyed it,” she said, her resolve giving away under his genuine curiosity. It was what she’d tell any sub. “You were beautiful last night. Perfect.” And that was more than she would have bestowed on just any sub.
His grin was impossible to deflect. It took over every aspect of him, from the straightening of his shoulders to the tiny bounce on the balls of his feet. God, he was worse than a playful puppy and just as cute too.
She smacked his arm. “Down, boy.”
“Arf,” he barked before he caught her in an unexpected hug that yanked her feet from the ground. He swung her around, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck. His sloppy raspberry blubbered through the air and sent wet shivers over her neck.
Her laughter rang true as it tore from her chest. “Stop it.” She pushed on his unmovable chest, her giggles detracting from the sternness.
“I’m not a boy,” he insisted, his lips tickling over her skin.
No. He wasn’t.
“Okay,” she conceded when he wouldn’t relent. He nipped her one more time, the sharp sting of his bite racing straight to her nipples and down. “I give up. You’re not a boy.”
He set her down, a triumphant grin in place. She shoved away, unable to hide her own smile. How did he do that? Switch her mood around so quickly?
“Unless you’re in my playroom, of course.” She wiggled her brows.
His grin fell, heat replacing the innocent joy in his eyes. She inhaled at the flash of desire that swept through her. He took a step forward and she spun around, fleeing down the hallway, bare feet slapping against the wood.
“You can’t run,” he mocked, the smack of his footsteps ringing down the hall.
Her laughter echoed up the open stairwell, the carpet soft under her soles as she vaulted up the steps. What was she doing?
He rounded the staircase and she tried to go faster, but he caught her ankle just before she reached the top. She lurched forward, another laugh spilling out before she caught her fall with her hands.
Her breath heaved and he easily flipped her over, his body pressing her into the uneven descent of the stairs.
“I’m your boy, huh?” He hovered above her, his face inches from her own. His bangs
fell over his brow in a rakish mess that matched the mischief in his eyes.
“Yes,” she insisted around her breath that was impossible to catch.
“Why doesn’t that bother me?” His chest heaved in an accelerated pace that matched hers.
She stared up at him, lost for a response. The clear blue of his eyes, along with the joy shining from them, held her captive. He was such a breath of fresh air. Everything about him was different from what she’d expected. From what she knew. “Because you like being my boy,” she finally answered.
His eyes darkened and he lowered his elbows to the stairs, pinning her beneath him. She waited for the panic. The race of her pulse and shortening of her breath, but it didn’t come.
“I do,” he whispered, his breath brushing over her cheek as he nuzzled her ear. “Very much.”
His admission flipped everything inside her. Her stomach tightened, along with her chest and all the stuff in between. “But you’re right.” Her soft reply contained that honesty he seemed to pull from her. “You’re not a boy.”
“Then what am I?”
Her small smile felt so fragile. She reached up to press her fingers to his lips. “A very impressive man and my beautiful submissive.”
She caught a flash of pride and fierce possessiveness on his face before his mouth crushed to hers. He took the kiss, controlling it as he pushed inside and claimed everything he found. Here, now, she gave it to him. Loved it.
He gathered her up, supporting her back and grinding his pelvis into hers. It was hot and wild and unplanned. Her head spun with the carnal need and she kissed him back. Tongues meeting, dueling and retreating to pants and nips and sweet abandon.
“God, V.” His low groan rumbled through his chest and over her lips. She tangled her fingers in his hair and yanked him back for another blistering kiss. Blinded, that was how she felt. Blinded by what he was doing, what he set free within her.
She wrapped her legs around his hips, the press of his erection digging into her groin. The edge of the stairs ground into her lower spine, and carpet burns scrubbed into flesh left exposed beneath her shirt.