KNOW - Mattie & Milo (Fettered Book 4)

by Lilia Moon

  This is like no edging I’ve ever had any part of. I’m nowhere near orgasm—but I’m getting pretty close to melted chocolate.

  “That’s it.” He’s breathing with me, moving a tide inside me in and out on the gravitational pull of his breath. I can feel the pulse of it, in my skin, in my hip, in my fingers.

  I feel his hand travel down my hip again, his fingers moving to rest lightly on top of mine. I keep moving, because he hasn’t told me to stop. There’s more weight with his fingers there too. More awareness. I remember how I felt when he last had his hands on my pussy, and I wiggle a little, needing his touch.

  His free hand stills my hip. “Nothing moving but your hand. Let my fingers take a ride on yours, feel what you feel. You’re not seeking arousal, you’re just letting go.”

  Arousal’s happening all by itself. My fingers are drenched. And yet, no pressure, no hurry. The polar opposite of impact play, but I can feel the strength of it, the solid way he’s holding the container for what’s happening right now.

  The core.

  His fingertip brushes against the side of my clit, and I gurgle.

  He chuckles and reverses our hands, sliding his fingers under mine. “Now you ride.”

  It’s strange, this connection. My fingers, carried along by his, wandering aimlessly through folds that aren’t coherent enough to beg. They’re just melting. Our two hands move as one, drenched in soft, wet pleasure.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Milo

  Keeping my breath slow and even is killing me, but I do it anyhow. She’s not ready to be pushed, yet—or rather, I’m not ready to push her. She’s a gorgeous puddle of Mattie, and I want her to feel that puddle starting to dissolve all the crap she doesn’t want to carry around. There’s more than one way to clean a soul, and this is the one I best know how to give her.

  My cock has a lot of other ideas, but he’s not in charge right now.

  I slow my breathing even more and she tracks me without question, even when I add a little pressure, rub a little closer to her most sensitive nerves in my slow, aimless wandering. She moans, and it’s not at all quiet. I smother a laugh. I have no idea how soundly babies sleep, but if that part ever gets real, I clearly need to learn about soundproofing. I’d intended to give her a silence order, but that was before she puddled. Nothing is more important than that right now, because I can see a clear, shiny road to what she needs. Imaginary babies have done their job, and now I want to keep her focus right where she already has it.

  I reach for the amazing basket I’m going to thoroughly study later and pull out a feather. It’s perfect for what I need—nice stiff shaft, firm bristles, feathery end. I grin at my sub and wonder if Ari knows her feather collection got pilfered. I brush the long side up Mattie’s exposed ribs and watch the shiver shake her right down to my pussy-gliding fingers. She’s sensitive like a newbie, which tells me just how little she’s done this.

  I repeat the motion with the feather, this time a little more gently. She squirms. Ticklish, which can be all kinds of fun, but not what I’m stoking today. I let the fingers sliding around in her folds soothe, tease her back into calm, or at least what’s passing for it at this point. This time I apply a little more pressure with the feather. Slower, seeking the sweet spot of intensity and pressure. The one that will pull her, very slowly, to where we’re headed.

  She sighs and leans into it, and then rolls a little to give me access when I brush the side swell of her breast.

  I can work with that. “Roll over, sweetheart. On your back, knees wide.” My hands help guide her, positioning pillows, catching pleasure-drunk limbs. She blinks up at me, and I see the moment where she tries to reassemble herself, to get ready for whatever I demand of her next.

  She’ll learn. I like my subs pleasure drunk and disorganized.

  I lean down to her ear, because voice is absolute power with this sub. “Your arousal is mine, Mattie. I don’t need anything from you except for your trust.”

  Her eyes soften, heading back to puddle-land—but not before I see the surprise.

  She’s worked with too many trainees. Held on to too much of herself so that she could serve them. Dug for too many orgasms.

  Not today. I pick my feather back up and let my two hands find a rhythm. Sweep and slide. Mixing the sensations, pulling her awareness like taffy and then letting it snap back.

  She sighs, long and low and slow, and I’m absolutely in my Dom happy place. I swirl the soft tip of the feather around her nipple and watch it pucker and reach. She arches a little toward the feather and collapses, a woman who can’t find her bones anymore.

  Good. I slide the hand in her pussy a little more purposefully as I tease the other nipple. Time to turn up the heat.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Mattie

  I’ve never felt like this. Ever. Like one of those amoebas in the science videos that can change its shape into anything it wants to be. Mostly to eat unsuspecting microscopic things.

  I want to eat Milo’s hands. They’re teasing the goo that I’ve become, never quite letting it slither off the bed and ooze away into the corner. They’re heating, warming, insisting without demanding anything in particular. I don’t understand what they’re trying to say—and yet I do.

  All he wants is for me to lie here and take it.

  I’ve had Doms say that before, but they’ve never meant it. Not like this.

  The feather scrapes up the side of my breast and over my nipple. I never knew feathers could feel so bristly. It’s like a thousand tiny, blunt pins marching over my most sensitive skin, and after they pass, I can feel everything.

  I exhale, a sound that has a hundred small noises in it. He breathes with me—and slides two fingers inside my pussy. I hear them move. I reshape myself to drink in his fingers. He slides them slowly back out and catches my g-spot on the way. My entire body quivers—that’s all I’m still capable of.

  He hums, a deep, pleased sound, and the feather brushes my cheek. “Open your eyes, Mattie. I want to see them now.”

  I feel a little sad. That means the mush is over and I need to somehow get to a place where I can do what he wants me to do next. Because as his fingers brush my g-spot again, I know that holding off this orgasm is going to take more discipline than I’ve used in my entire kinky life.

  His free hand lands on my lower belly. Firm, like he did before he paddled me at the club. “No. No thinking, no work. I don’t want you reaching for orgasm or trying to keep it away. That’s my job. I’m going to take you as close as I can without sending you over.”

  My eyes can’t focus. His face is a blur, but his eyes are clear. He really means this. I try to form words, but my brain is too busy waiting for his fingers to slide in and out of me again.

  He does exactly that, and this time, the pressure is more firm. The hand on my low belly presses down, and the place inside me between his hands lights on fire. Liquid, molten fire. No shape—only heat.

  “That’s it, gorgeous. Just like that.” His fingers are moving faster now, and I don’t even try to keep up.

  It feels like I’m being inflated from the inside, from that place between his hands where he’s utterly controlling me. My orgasm is building like some kind of volcanic deity who won’t be denied. I don’t bother trying to tell him. If he can’t see the lava he’s created, he’ll be swallowed by it soon enough.

  The amoeba that is me simply quivers, awaiting the inevitable. I take in a shaky, blissful breath, because the edge is that close and I’m going over it and it’s going to be absolutely momentous.

  And then I’m right on the tipping point, the fingers inside me are pushing up against a spot that is the very center of the volcano—and somehow holding me back.

  I hear the desperate, shaky, crazed sound my amoeba makes.

  “You’re not going over until I let you go.” He sounds so incredibly pleased with me. “Don’t reach for it. Sink into exactly where you are. It’s not about where you go next
. Become one with the edge. Trust me and trust you to keep you there.”

  Amoebas don’t trust. They eat.

  He chuckles, and I realize I’ve found enough muscles to clutch his forearm hard enough to leave marks. “Give everything you don’t want to the fire, Mattie.” His fingers are stroking me in time with his words. “This isn’t an edge—it’s a furnace. Let it burn you clean.”

  And just like that, I’m not on an edge anymore, not quivering to tip over it. I’m surrounded by fire and the amazing gift it wants to give me.

  That he wants to give me.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Milo

  I hold her there for what feels like eternity. She’s wet and quivering and utterly relaxed, and I could stay here forever.

  All of me except my cock, anyhow.

  I look at Mattie’s dazed, stunned face, drink in the absolute perfection of this moment, and move a single finger.

  Her body shoots up off the bed, or tries to, anyhow. She makes it as far as her elbows and then her head falls back in inarticulate, gorgeous release. I feel her muscles pulsing around my fingers, slicking them in ways that make my cock contemplate terrorist acts. I bend my fingers and stroke her g-spot gently, grinning when she shudders and rocks desperately into my hand. This kind of orgasm has hours of play left in it. “Don’t worry, gorgeous. I’m not done with you yet.”

  I pull out my fingers and grin at her wail. Ripping my clothes off without letting go of her isn’t the most graceful thing ever, but it’s absolutely necessary. I want to feel every beautiful, naked inch of her against me.

  I lie down beside her, tucking her underneath me a little so she can feel my weight. So that my cock can press into her hip and know he’s at least getting close.

  She wriggles into me, still rippling with the echoes of her orgasm. I wait. I need her brain back online enough to make sure I have consent for this next part. Milo of the club would never do what I’m about to do next, but the Mattie and Milo who want to be more have to learn how to find our bliss on the fly. We won’t always know what we need in advance. It won’t always be carefully negotiated and written down.

  That’s heresy in my world—and yet, in this moment, it feels like freedom.

  Soft, warm fingers stroke up my cock.

  I lift my eyes to Mattie’s. She’s back, and the wonder and the desire in her gaze nearly has me swallowing my tongue. She licks her bottom lip and clears her throat. “Please.”

  Her hips are making her intent really clear, even if the rest of her still lacks coherence. I keep my eyes on hers, watching for any wobbles, any doubt. Rolling on a condom one-handed isn’t any more graceful than stripping my clothes off was, but it doesn’t matter. We’re not in a hurry, and this part isn’t for my Dom. It’s for the guy who wants to feel what we’ve just made together, in the most intimate way possible.

  Dom aftercare.

  I lift her knee up and roll into position. Basic missionary, which suddenly feels like the most amazing sexual position ever. She tracks me, gyrating her hips a little, trying to catch my cock.

  My laugh sounds strangled, because if she keeps doing that I’m not even going to make it inside her. “Hold still. I don’t have much control left.”

  Surprise hits her eyes—and then amusement. Or even glee. She wiggles with more intent this time.

  My brat is back. I pin her down as best as I can and glare. “Your bedroom needs more restraint points. Hold still.”

  She puddles underneath me—and then her hands rise up and cup my face. “Please. I want to feel this. I want to feel you.”

  Her hands stay on my face as I slide in. It’s not suave or controlled at all, more like a jerky tumble that comes to a shuddering stop deep inside her. I don’t know if the groan of bliss is hers or mine. I pull my hips back and repeat the slide in, more slowly this time. Not to tease her, but because I want to feel every gorgeous inch.

  Her hands clench around my face. “Milo. Please.”

  I bury my face in her neck and press my chest hard against hers. I don’t move my hips out again, because I don’t want to leave. I just grind us together in tiny, tight circles.

  And moan as her flames rise up to burn us both.

  Chapter Fifty

  Mattie

  I blink as I come back into my body. It’s something I’m used to as a sub, although if I’m honest, it’s been a good long time since I was this out of it—or felt this blissed out when I landed back in my skin.

  I stretch like a kitten and rub against the man who has me tucked into his warm heartbeat.

  He strokes my hair. “How are you doing?”

  Standard Dom question, but I’m not sure that’s the way he means it. It’s the way I know how to answer, though. I move my limbs around a little, stretching, testing. I feel like the best kind of goo—and I don’t have the sore ass it usually takes to get me there. “I feel amazing.” I tip my head up and look at his face, because that’s more than a standard sub answer, and I didn’t realize it until I said it, and I want him to know. “That place I go when the impact play is really good and everything clogging me up gets chased away?”

  He smiles a little, his hand playing with a piece of my hair.

  The fullness of what just happened is finally sinking in. “This feels like that.” And more. I’m totally clear. Reborn, even. “Except better, because I feel like I just took a bath in a tub full of melted chocolate.” I grin and stretch up so I can kiss his cheek. “The orgasms weren’t so bad either.”

  He catches my chin and far more thoroughly kisses me. And then releases my lips, looking very pleased with himself. “That was magic. Watching you melt like that, knowing you were letting me take you there?” He snugs me in closer. “Thank you. I haven’t felt that good as a Dom in a really long time.”

  I let my fingers play in the soft brown hair on his chest. “The last part didn’t feel like a Dom-and-sub thing.” Then I remember the order to hold on to my headboard while he drove into me like a jackhammer. “Okay, maybe some of it did.” I’m suddenly confused, and I burrow into his chest, trying to find words that don’t sound so tangled.

  His shoulder shrugs under my ear. “I don’t really know what it was either, but it felt good and right and like we both wanted to be there.”

  I laugh. No Dom with his sensitivity is misreading how happy I am about what just happened, but I want to tell him anyhow. “I know we didn’t really talk about whether there would be sex in our scenes yet or anything, but I wanted that to happen at least as much as you did.”

  He kisses the top of my head. “I know. Thanks for saying so.”

  I want to say the rest, because I’ve spent the last ten years learning the power of saying everything I feel, and I’m not going to stop now. I tip my head up to look at him again. “It feels like we started something really good, with some kinky parts and some parts that we don’t know as well, but they feel like they belong. I like that we don’t know all of how this goes. That we made some of it up as we went along today.”

  That it got us somewhere amazing.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Milo

  I’m so damn lucky. I roll over so I’m mostly on top of her. It’s far too soon to say these words, but I do it anyway. “It felt like coming home, Mattie. Being inside you like that, being with you like this? It feels like coming home.”

  Her face melts into something soft and beautiful. “Wow. Thank you.”

  I swallow. “There’s so much more here. More than me being your Dom, even though that part felt really awesome.”

  She smiles, and her hands flutter to my face, stroking the marks she’s left there. She tips her head down, and I feel her laughter before I hear it. “You’re going to have some bruises, I think.”

  I roll us so that she’s on top of me, because the feel of Mattie laughing against my skin is the adult version of walking into the best candy shop in the world. “My cock might have some too. You should check.”

  She c
ollapses on me, and this time it’s full-on giggles. “I think that’s called topping from the bottom.”

  I roll us back over and catch her wrists in my hands. “I top from wherever I want, sweetheart.”

  She shifts her hips lightning quick so that my cock is cradled in her still-sopping-wet pussy. And then holds very still and tries to look innocent. “Yes, Sir. Anything you say, Sir.”

  My cock is really sure what I should do about this. Fortunately for him, the rest of me isn’t arguing.

  She catches my wrist as I go to reach for the condom. “I’m on birth control and totally clean. Tested and I never play without condoms, and I know you don’t either.” She takes a deep, shaky breath. “I’d like to now. I’d like to know what that feels like with you.”

  I have no words. This time it’s my hands cupping her face. Looking deep. Needing to know this is consent of the very purest, firmest kind.

  She grins at me and sticks out her tongue. “I know how to say no. This is the total opposite of that.”

  The part of me that doubts that this miracle is mine shuts up.

  She sees it almost as fast as I do. Her legs wrap around my hips, and her eyes light with something clear and sizzling. “Come home with nothing between us.” Her heels dig into my ass. “And not slow this time. I want to feel that you were inside me when I walk tomorrow.”

  I growl, as Dom and man and cock all yank off their respective leashes.

  This time, my slide in isn’t slow. There’s no trembling—just the glory I can see reflected in her eyes. The amazing, fiery, astonishing glide of skin on skin, hard heat to wet fire.

  I pull myself out just long enough to flip her over. I shove her hands up at the headboard and wrap her fingers around the rails, because she loved it the first time. “Don’t let go.”

  She holds on tight and arches her ass up to meet me.