by S. R. Jones
I bend my head to one dusky, rose colored nipple and suck it into my mouth. We’re all over one another now. Her arms sliding up and down my back, my hands on her waist, mouth at her breast. I keep thinking how I ought to slow down, but don’t seem able to put the brakes on. She’s the same. Her fingers find my jeans and unbutton them, and then she’s pushing her skirt off. I stand to get my jeans down, and climb back onto the bed.
Instead of lying by her side as I had before, I gently get on top of her, holding my weight. I lower my head to hers and kiss her, reveling in the feeling of skin on skin. I want more so I press myself closer to her, still making sure not to drop my full weight on her.
At first, she’s ultra-responsive, she’s kissing me back, moving her body against mine as we practically dry hump one another, but then something happens. I sense her tense, change. Then she’s thrashing about, but not in an oh-you’re-such-a-great-lover way. More, she’s signaling for me to get the fuck off her.
I pull myself up, holding my weight on my outstretched arms and look at her bracketed below me. Her eyes are wide and…crap, they’re scared. She’s breathing hard, and she scoots out from under me, standing from the bed. She backs up against the wall, arms over her breasts.
Shit. For a moment, I don’t know what the fuck to do. This has never happened to me before.
“Listen,” I stand to tell her it’s okay, we can stop this right now, but she makes a whimper and presses back into the wall.
“Shit, Kate. Listen to me.” I reach an arm out then pull it back. Yeah, touching her right now isn’t a good idea. “We can stop this. It’s okay.
She shakes her head, and she looks angry. I don’t know what she wants.
“God, I hate this!” She hits her head on the wall behind her and I wince. “He has taken over all aspects of my life, and now even this. He wins. He always wins. I want you.” She looks at me, open, truthful, and fearless even if she doesn’t see it in herself. She always puts it out there. No hiding, no games. “You’re…you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, and I like you, too. But when we were kissing, and you were over me, I got this awful flashback to one of the letters he wrote me. Where he detailed how he’d hold me down, force himself on me. I think missionary might be right out for me for a while.”
She laughs, and her body language relaxes some. She drops her arms, and I don’t look down, make myself hold eye contact, because right now she doesn’t need me to be a dick. “We can do you on top, cupcake, if you want to try this again at some point.”
I hope she does because now I’ve had a taste of her, I want so much more. We must match in some weird, science-based way. Good pheromones or something. My attraction to her hasn’t dimmed at all by us being together a little, it’s only brightened.
“Hell, cupcake.” She rolls her eyes at the pet name and relaxes further. Good. I tease some more. “You can even tie me up if it makes you feel better.”
She laughs, but then her face turns serious. “It might.”
“What?” I’d been joking. I get my own mini surge of anxiety. I don’t do being trapped so how will I handle being tied up? Then my lizard brain goes to war with itself, the fear center of the brain battling against the horny part, and the horny part wins.
I can suck up a bit of anxiety if it means I get more of her. In fact, now the idea is there, it’s as hot as hell. Me tied up, at her mercy. Her able to explore me to her heart’s content. I’d have no say in how fast she went, what she looked at, where she touched.
I open the wardrobe door and indicate my ties. “Baby, if it makes you want to carry on with what we’ve started, have at it.”
Chapter Six
Kate
I stare at Reece. Can I? Dare I? It seems so…wrong. So…dirty. The first time I have sex in years, and it’s some kinky weirdness where I have to tie the guy up to feel safe.
I know Reece won’t hurt me. I trust him and think physically he’ll keep me safe, but it’s my internal mental demons that won’t give up. He’s big. When he was on top of me all I could see and smell was him. It was glorious, but it was terrifying at the same time, and the fear won out. I used to dream about a big guy like Reece to dominate me, sexually at least. Now, my stalker has rendered my dream in tatters.
My stalker has written about all the ways he’d like to tame me. Make me his. Hurt me. None of his letters ever involved me being in charge. Him being tied up and helpless. So maybe this way I can get to enjoy being with Reece and shut the fear off?
I glance at the ties, brightly hanging from the wood hanger and I wonder. Can I? Will he not mind? A quick flick of my gaze to his boxers and he’s hard as stone. The idea certainly doesn’t turn him off.
He makes the first move, and goes to the hanger, pulling off four ties. Four?
With a grin, he passes them to me. “You can tie both of my arms to the bed, and my legs too.”
“Are you sure?” My face heats. I feel like such a freak. I can’t even do sex normally. And what if I still get panicked?
“Hey,” he lifts my face to look at him. “Relax. This is meant to be fun. We can try this and if it doesn’t work for you, we stop. Anytime you want, we stop.”
He grows serious for a moment. “And make sure you can undo the knots in case we need me to be able to…ya know, move, just in case. Not that I want to mention Stalker Boy right now, but we ought to be sure you can let me out of whatever you tie me into quickly, in the worst case scenario of some sort of threat, right? Okay, do your worst.”
Not waiting for me to answer, he goes and lies on the bed, arms spread wide, legs too.
He’s absolutely glorious. The most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.
Acres of tan skin, muscle, tattoos, and arrogance. A perfect alpha male, and he’s all spread out for me, willing to be the submissive one right now. Willing to let me take control.
It’s a head rush.
I climb onto the bed and with a grin at him, take one big wrist, and fasten a blue tie around it, securing it to one of the rungs of the wooden headboard. Then I move to his other arm. Once I’m done, I can’t help but stand back for a moment and admire my handiwork. The way his arms are raised defines all the muscles in his massive upper body.
His triceps and biceps are huge. His forearms too. You see some guys with big muscles but skinny wrists and ankles—not Reece. He’s built. An already impressive frame with muscle upon muscle packed onto it.
I swallow and can’t believe I get to play with this beautiful man. I know it’s probably because he’s got a high sex drive and being stuck in here with me means he can’t be out there with the supermodel types I’m sure he normally dates, but I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Taking the last two ties, I go to his left ankle and secure that first, not making it too tight, but enough I feel sure he can’t pull his foot free easily. Then I do the same to his right leg. Now he’s all trussed up before me. The prettiest present I’ve ever been given, and I’m suddenly shy.
He’s so much man and I don’t know what to do with him.
It sounded like a great idea when he suggested it, but sexually, unlike in my life in general, I’ve always been kind of submissive. Dickface, Stalker Boy took that away from me. I’m not sure I know how to do it this way.
“Why don’t you start off by kissing me?” Reece asks me with a smirk.
Okay, good suggestion. I climb onto the bed and kneel astride him.
I bend down and kiss him, taste him, like I had before. I wait to see if the panic returns, but it doesn’t. There uncertainty, a general sense of unease, but it’s mixed with a delicious frisson of anticipation. My breasts brush over his chest as we kiss, my nipples so sensitive the sensation makes me gasp into his mouth.
“Shit,” he mutters. “This is actually fucking hot as hell. All I want to do is grab your tits and I can’t.”
“Haven’t you done this before?” It surprises me to think he hasn’t.
“No,” he answe
rs. “I haven’t.”
The knowledge makes me bolder, more confident. It’s not as if I’m being measured against some other woman he did this with, he’s a newbie to this, too.
Purposefully, I lower my upper body, until my breasts more firmly touch his chest and then I rub my hard nipples across his wall of muscle.
“Christ, cupcake, I want to taste.”
I sit up and look at him, not sure what he means for a moment.
“Feed me your tit,” he says.
The coarse words make me flush, but they also turn me on. I shuffle farther up his body and take my right breast in my hand, lowering it to his mouth. He latches onto me like a man dying of hunger and sucks me in. Hot breath and then sharp teeth tease my sensitive nipple and I writhe on him, realizing with shock my panties are wet.
He sucks and bites, and then soothes and licks, and I want him to do the same to my other breast, so I pull out of his mouth and move slightly, offering him the left one this time. He repeats the same routine, laving his teeth over the turgid flesh, making me moan. God, he’s talented with his mouth. It makes me wonder what else he can do with it.
As if we’re linked psychically or something because he pulls his mouth from me and gives me a wicked, heated stare. “I want to taste the rest.”
His voice is low and full of sin and I know what he means. I need my panties off though, so I struggle to climb off him, and stand to pull them down, when he speaks again.
“Come on up here, cupcake, and pull them to one side.”
Oh, okay. That will work too. I do as he says and straddle his face, pulling my panties to one side. It feels so dirty, but I’m horny as hell, despite how wrong it seems to be doing this.
“Lower your body down for me,” Reece instructs and I do, as at the same time, I hold onto the wooden headboard. “Good girl,” he soothes.
Talk about topping from the bottom!
I don’t mind, though. In fact, I like it. It gives me everything I need. He’s totally in charge, but I’m the one physically in control. I can stop and move at any time and he can’t do anything to stop me.
His tongue finds me, warm and wet, and it makes me cry out. He uses it to part my folds, burrowing into my slit, finding my clit. He licks me right up my most sensitive flesh, once, twice, a third time, and then he makes his tongue pointed and flicks right over my clit. It makes my hips buck.
“Shit, wish I could hold you still. Keep yourself still for me, sweetheart.”
I try to do as he says, but it’s so hard with him lashing my clit with his tongue, making me gasp and moan and squirm.
He’s not gentle but he’s not too rough either. He doesn’t press too hard, but he doesn’t let up. I can feel my orgasm building, and it’s spiraling ever higher, when he wrenches his mouth away.
“What?” I’m panting as if I’ve run a race.
“I want you to come on my cock,” he tells me.
Oh. Yes. I like the idea a lot. Then it hits me, we don’t have any protection. “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“No condom.”
“In my wallet.” He gestures to the table at the side of the bed with his head. “Top drawer.”
I lean over him, open it and rummage around, my fingers alighting on the black leather wallet. I open it and find the condoms easily. For some reason I don’t like the fact he carries condoms around. It means he’s safe, so I should be grateful, but it also means he gets plenty of action, and I don’t like that.
Scooting back down the bed, I reach his black boxers, and hit another problem. “Damn, I’ll have to untie your legs to take your underwear down,” I tell him.
“Just pull me out.” He nods to the boxers. “Take me out of the slit and glove me up.”
He’s rough, and ready, and I love it about him. Especially with all that raw power strained and ready below me. Tied up, helpless in a way, but not in others. I feel as if I’m about to climb on some wild horse, and have it tamed to my whims. It’s a heady experience.
As I pull him out of the slit of his boxers, I bite back a moan of appreciation at the size of him. He’s long and thick, and clear drops of fluid leak from his head. He’s as turned on by this as I am.
With a quick glance at him, I bend my head and lick up those drops, liking the salty taste of him exploding on my tongue. It’s been so long since I’ve tasted a man, and I’d forgotten how much I liked it. I used to love giving blow jobs. Girls used to moan about it, the taste and smell, but if I liked a man, found him attractive, then I enjoyed it. I didn’t get how they couldn’t.
With Reece like and attractive don’t fit the way I feel about him. I want to eat him up. I’m sure it’s my age or something making me this way. Don’t they say women in their forties are in their sexual prime, at least so far as their own desire goes? I’m shaking with want for him, and I’ve never been this way before. Not ready yet to finish this part of the fun, I bend more, and take him into my mouth.
He curses, and his hips jack up. I smile around him and go to sucking him for real. Because I like this, I’ve been told by more than one guy that I’m good at it. I hope so. I want Reece to remember this. Remember me.
“Shit, cupcake. You need to stop that or I’m not going to make it to the main event.” His voice is strained and I feel a pride at making him lose it to this extent.
Not wanting to ruin ‘the main event’, as he says, though, I do as he suggests and sit back on my haunches as I take the condom out and roll it down his thick cock.
I don’t take my panties off, I’m enjoying the dirty vibe of this encounter, so I keep them pulled to one side as I hold him up, and then slide myself slowly down him. I take it easy because it’s been a long while for me and he’s a big boy. It twinges slightly, but mostly it’s amazing. He’s filling me in all the places I’ve been empty for so long.
“Oh, God.” My head drops back as I seat myself all the way down on him.
He’s breathing hard, too, his flat belly rising and falling in a rapid rhythm.
“Fuck me, cupcake.” He hitches his hips once with a wicked smile.
“Ah, ah, ah,” I tell him. “You’re my prisoner and we do this when and where I say.”
I’m teasing but for a moment something dark flashes across his face. Shit. I don’t want to kill this, so I lean down and whisper in his ear. “But your wish is my command.”
I file the reaction to me saying he was my prisoner away, to examine later when my head is clearer.
Then I begin to move. I lift off him and move back down onto him. I soon have a rhythm going and he’s helping, hitching his hips to meet me on each downward move. It’s a good job too, because I’d forgotten how tiring this can be, and he can’t hold me or help me as his arms are tied up.
The burn in my thighs somehow only adds to the thrill of it all. I’m dripping wet and I wish he could feel how turned on he’s made me without the barrier of the condom. I push that crazy thought away though and focus on moving up and down. Chasing my pleasure. Giving him his.
“Touch yourself,” he orders, his eyes on fire.
I do as he says and reach a hand down to rub my clit. I have one hand on his stomach helping me balance and keep going, the other is strumming my clit and his eyes don’t move from where my fingers rub at my secret places.
“Make yourself come. I want to feel you come all over me.”
Oh, shit. He’s a dirty talker and I’ve never been with one before and it’s as hot as hell. If he’d been doing this and been in any way embarrassed by it then it wouldn’t work, but Reece puts what he wants out there and doesn’t care.
My orgasm is building once more, and this time I don’t want anything to stop it. I rub myself faster, keeping it light, but moving my fingers in quick circles over my bud, the way I like it.
When it comes, it blindsides me. I implode into nothing but stars in front of my eyes, and wave after wave of pleasure. His thick cock inside makes it all the more powerful as my musc
les grip at him.
“Fuck, yes.” He lets his head fall back as he fills the condom in powerful spurts.
“Oh. My. God.” I laugh and let myself drape forward over him.
“Yeah. You can say that again,” he agrees.
I get a little glow from it being good for him. Then it fades. He probably says the same thing to all the women he screws. I can’t let myself get any feelings for him. This has been a momentous moment for me. The first time I’ve had sex in years. The first time, if I’m being honest, I’ve had such a close connection with anyone in the same length of time. I need to keep it physical and not let myself make it more than it is.
“I’ll just untie you.” I do his feet first and then his hands.
I expect him to get up, go and wash up or something, but he ties the condom off, then reaches for me and pulls me into him, spooning me and wrapping me in a wonderful safe cocoon, with his big arms around me and a heavy thigh draped over me.
“Is this okay?” He mumbles into my hair.
I nod, and within a couple of minutes his breathing deepens and evens out. Oh God, he’s fallen asleep holding me in his arms.
I can’t find such peace because my mind is whirring.
What the hell does all of this mean?
Does he always sleep and cuddle with the women he screws? Or do I mean more?
After what seems like hours, but according to the clock on Reece’s nightstand is only twenty minutes, Reece stirs, mumbling against my hair. He’s so warm. Like a furnace, and his warmth is wonderful as it seeps into my bones, heating the cold, empty spaces within me that have been barren and lifeless for far too long.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “I fell asleep.”
“You sure did.” I keep my tone light, determined not to ruin things by getting all ahead of myself. I know it’s only natural that I’m feeling this a bit more than most people would, making a deep connection from what we’ve shared, simply because I’ve been so damned lonely.