Played

by Tasha Fawkes

  “Tonight, Ashley, I'm not your Dom. You're not my sub. Let's just see how it goes, shall we?"

  My mind is still spinning, trying to ascertain what he means by a change. Certainly, he isn't suggesting that we… but his hand is so warm, so gentle, caressing my breast in a way he’s never done before. Before, our encounters in the playroom were a bit more… intense? Desperate? Hurried? No, not desperate, but propelled by the incitement of his gadgets, the unknown.

  I place my palms against his chest, reveling in the breadth of his pecs, marveling that tonight, we will be lovers. Not playing a role, just enjoying each other's body, no rules, no tools and gadgets, just the two of us. And I know that even without any tools, having sex with Daniel won’t be dull in the least. My nipples harden and extend, as if begging for his touch on their own. My pulse races, and the heat of desire tingles through my body. I’m anxious to explore this new side of Daniel; this side of him that I’ve never seen before. He leans back and so do I, both of us staring at one another.

  I’m still not sure what this means. I’m certainly not going to jump to any conclusions. While I have to admit that I’m a bit disappointed that we won't be using any toys, based on how I’m feeling already, we don't need them, at least not tonight.

  "Shall we take this into the bedroom?"

  I moisten my lips, enjoying the sight of his gaze dipping to my mouth. His pulse races too, I can tell by the throbbing of the vein along the side of his neck. It gives me a thrill to know that I can trigger such a response in him without the gadgets.

  I nod.

  In my bedroom, he undresses me, though I only wore a pair of sweats, a T-shirt, sans bra, and my underwear. In seconds, I stand naked before him. Slowly, I undress him. My fingers tremble only slightly as I unbutton his shirt, then peel it off his broad shoulders. I keep my eyes on him while I unbuckle his belt, then unzip his pants. I tuck my hands inside the waistband and slide the trousers past his hips. Then his boxers.

  His cock is hard already, pointing at me. I look at it and it moves of its own accord, as if trying to touch me. I grasp his cock in my palm as he slides his feet from his shoes and then kicks his pants and boxers away. He doesn't move after that, keeps his hands down by his sides while I take advantage. My hands are everywhere; trailing along those strong shoulders, across his chest, my palms circling his nipples into hard little nubs.

  I grow wet between my legs. My hands skim along his hips and then along the outside of his muscular thighs. Abruptly, I sit down on the bed, then grasp his ass and urge him closer to me as I take him into my mouth. My tongue twirls around his head, eliciting a drop of moisture. One hand grasping his cock, the other cups his balls, gently massaging, squeezing and then releasing. I tease as my tongue does a number along his shaft, while my other hand grasps his ass, contracted into a hard mass. God, he is beautiful.

  I suckle his head, and then urge him a little deeper, my tongue circling his head, then his shaft, then sucking hard two or three times before I repeat the process. I thrill when I hear him hiss in a breath. His hands grasp my shoulders and then he pushes me back onto the bed. He nestles himself between my legs and pushes against my ankles until my knees are bent, opening myself to him.

  My hands on his shoulders, his groping my breasts, he slides down until his mouth finds my mound. Then my nub. I groan and throw my head back, reveling in the sensations that rush through my body.

  I’m so wet and hot for him I rock my hips upward. "Please… Daniel… I need you—"

  He chuckles, and I feel it jolt through my body. My head is pounding, my body pounding, my blood pounding. He makes me feel with every nerve ending, every sensation more glorious than the last. This is heaven.

  He shifts his position and I feel bereft, but he’s back in a second, holding onto a condom wrapper.

  "You do it."

  He hands it to me. I take it, not the least embarrassed that my legs are splayed before him. I rip open the package as he stares at my pussy with a smile. My hands tremble as I retrieve the circle of latex. He leans forward, his knees inside mine and his weight balanced on his hands, placed on either side of my shoulders. I place the condom on his head and slowly roll it down while he watches my face, that smile playing around his mouth wanting me to forego the condom and just shove him deep inside me.

  The moment the condom is in place, he repositions himself. He lifts my hips again with his arms and finds my entrance with his shaft. He enters me slowly—excruciatingly slowly, as if by one centimeter at a time. My pussy contracts around him, urging him forward. I breathe hard, the anticipation nearly killing me. Then, with a chuckle, his jaw tight with tension, he lunges forward, his cock filling me. I marvel again that his huge shaft can fit inside me.

  "Watch."

  The word is spoken gently, but with command. I gaze at his face, see the tension as he holds himself still, and then I do as he asked. I stare down at our union. I see that he’s buried himself nearly to the hilt. He slowly retreats, pulling his length from my pussy as slowly as he entered. I stare in fascination. His cock glistens with my juices, the veins raised and pulsing, the shaft itself a pinkish color—I groan, grab his ass with both my hands, lift my legs and wrap them around his waist and then pull him deeper.

  He laughs and allows me to take the lead, to set the pace. I rock my hips with abandon, enjoying this kind of sex with him as much as I do the bondage. And just before I achieve climax, one image reverberates through my brain.

  The look on Daniel's face. His smile.

  Twenty-Two

  Ashley

  I lay panting on the bed, Daniel next to me, but my bliss is interrupted by the sound of a phone ring tone. His phone. He reaches over the side of the bed for his clothes and retrieves it. I turn to watch him, admiring the sight of his naked back and the ripple of muscles in his broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waistline. Not an ounce of fat on him anywhere. He’s all muscle. Just looking at him, gazing at the flair of his hips and his ass, gets me all hot again. I barely resist the urge to slide my hand between his legs and grope his balls.

  "Excuse me," he says, offering a quick glance over his shoulder. "If I don't get it, I can guarantee you the phone will ring every five minutes until I do."

  "Go ahead," I murmur, grinning. My body still thrums with the aftermath of our lovemaking—there, I said it. It wasn't just sex. That romp in bed just now was a genuine session of lovemaking, and I felt the difference. This sex was leisurely, gentle, and… exquisite. When we were in the playroom I also enjoyed the sex, but that was more like fucking; it was fast and intense and quick, and this was… this was wonderful.

  "I'm busy, Mother, what is it?"

  I barely hear the sound of a female voice coming from his phone. He startles me when he sits up abruptly, his back stiff. Even before he says a word I can sense the tension emanating from him.

  "What? Are you sure?"

  The one-sided conversation continues for a moment, and then Daniel speaks again, his voice low and uncertain. "I did. I called her last night and told her. We both know that it's—yes, I understand, and I know I should have said something sooner, but I—"

  I frown as he reaches for his clothes on the floor. I sit up too, holding the sheet to my breasts. Don't ask me why, because Lord knows, Daniel has seen me naked before. Something is wrong.

  "All right, I'll be there… I'll get there soon as I can, all right?"

  Daniel disconnects the call and sits for several seconds, not moving.

  "What is it? What's happened?"

  When he turns around to face me, I feel the invisible punch to the gut. Just a moment ago, his face was flushed with exertion, his pupils dilated, his breathing raspy, his grin oh-so-sexy. It was some of the best sex I've ever had, and I hoped he felt the same way—

  "It's Karen."

  It takes a second for my brain to switch gears. "Karen?" Who is Karen? And then I remember. "Your fiancée… I mean, your ex-fiancée?"

  He nods, standing to pull
on his boxers. He doesn't look at me. I resist the urge to stare at his now limp dick, knowing that nothing will come of it. He’s leaving.

  "My mom called to tell me that she’s in the hospital."

  "Oh my God... what happened?"

  "My mom says that she—Karen—called her a while ago, after I broke off the engagement. Karen sounded distraught, but she managed to get her calmed down. Just now, though, she learned that Karen had been admitted to the hospital."

  "What happened?" I ask again, my voice faint and shaky. Oh my God, I hope the woman will be all right. When Daniel speaks, I barely recognize his voice.

  "She tried to kill herself."

  I stare at him, disbelieving. I scramble out of bed, looking for my clothes. "What can I do?"

  He shoves his legs into his trousers, slips on his shoes, and then pushes his arms through the sleeves of his dress shirt. His hands shake slightly as he tries to button it. I start to move, to help him, and then freeze, especially when he looks up at me, his expression filled with what I can only construe as guilt. He gives me a look that doesn't need explaining. He mutters softly to himself, tugging at his collar even though it’s perfect. He stares down at his feet for a moment, then finally looks up at me.

  That look washes all doubt away and triggers a feeling of intense disappointment. I know what he’s going to say before he says anything. He stands on one side of the bed, me on the other as he speaks.

  "I have to go… you understand that, right?"

  I don't answer, and he doesn't give me an opportunity. He continues, speaking quickly, as if he has to get it out all at once. "It's not really Karen's fault that my mom pressured the both of us to get engaged. The engagement was intended to provide benefits for both our families…"

  Even before he finishes speaking, I know where this is going. I almost say no backsies, but I keep my mouth shut. I’m not going to beg. I’m not going to be weak.

  "I have to go to the hospital to make sure she's okay. And I have to make things right. I’m sorry, Ashley, but I have to do the right thing here. I have to do the responsible thing."

  I stand frozen, my body still tingling from the sensations those hands of his had invoked deep inside me. I stand naked, grasping the sheet to my body as he turns to leave the room.

  He doesn't look back.

  I hear the front door open and close, but I still stand there, staring down at the bed, the rumpled sheets, the smell of sex still permeating the room. My brain feels numb. Damn it! I sink down onto the bed, staring out the window, wondering how in the hell I had managed to do this to myself twice.

  I got my hopes up, despite my own internal instincts and warnings not to. When he showed up at my door less than two hours ago, my heart leapt with excitement, and even more so when he told me he broke off the engagement. His words gave me hope that not only our 'downstairs' relationship wasn't over; but actually, it was just going to get better. It was validation, for me at least, that he did feel something for me, something that went beyond "playtime" and my foray into the world of bondage.

  Why did I even feel that way? Why? When I first learned that he had a fiancée, I made the decision to give him up. I didn't want that kind of a relationship. I dealt with it, or was beginning to anyway. I made a logical decision to just let it go. You win some, you lose some. But when he showed up at my door… no, that was different. I’m only fooling myself.

  Not that he said that he had chose me, no. All he implied was that he had not chosen Karen. I still don't expect any promises from Daniel, at least I don’t think so, but now, sitting here on my bed, in my room, naked, I find myself growing annoyed. And to be honest, I’m more upset than I was in his office when I first learned of his fiancée because I had—obviously subconsciously—let myself hope. Let myself hope that by his coming here, it might have meant something.

  "You're a stupid idiot."

  I sigh. I’m bummed. No, I’m depressed. Such an emotional roller coaster. Who the hell needs it? I’m not heartbroken, and I’m not going to be. I don’t need any man in my life to validate who I am or what I want to be. I don't need Daniel, and I don't need Stewart. Let him have Karen. I don't wish ill on either one of them, and I certainly hope that Karen will be all right, but who needs that kind of drama?

  I got my hopes up twice. What’s that saying? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me? I stand, drop the sheet, and head for the shower. I’m stronger than that. Will I make the same mistake again? Maybe. I don't know. But I know one thing. If Daniel wants to let guilt rule his life, there is nothing I can do about it. I’m not going to be a part of it.

  Standing in the shower with the water pouring over me, I feel slightly rejuvenated. I don't cry. Maybe that will come later, I’m not sure. Right now, I tell myself that what I have to do is focus on my own goals, which means getting my book finished and published with or without Daniel's help. And then, someday, I’ll find the right man, and then, just maybe, I just might consider settling down.

  Twenty-Three

  Daniel

  I feel like a son of a bitch for even thinking it, but I can't help it. I’m miserable. It’s been a week since I got that phone call at Ashley's place that Karen tried to kill herself. I’d been guilt-ridden, and my mother's trembling voice affected me. I'd never heard her sound like that. I didn't… I didn't know how to feel. I didn't want to be cruel to Karen, but I broke off the engagement with the intention of sparing us both.

  Karen apparently tried to overdose on Ambien, at least that's what I was told by the doctor at the hospital. At first, he didn't want to give me any information, stating that I wasn't a family member, but I told him that I was Karen's fiancé and he checked and saw that I was one of her emergency contacts. He gave me the rundown. Apparently, it was Karen herself who'd called 9-1-1. When the paramedics got to her apartment, they found a prescription bottle beside her on the bed. A half glass of Merlot was on the end table beside the bed. I frowned, confused. As far as I knew, Karen didn't take any medication. I just started to talk to the doctor about that when my mother appeared beside me. She clasped my arm tightly, and when I looked down at her, I felt a jolt.

  Without her usual impeccable makeup, she looked older, pale, and yes, even frail. All I could think of is that I did this to her. It was the first time I had seen my mother in such an emotional state.

  "She's going to be all right," I told her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, holding her close to me. Her eyes filled with tears as she looked up at the doctor.

  She turned to me, her eyes wide. "She sounded so funny when she called me, like she was slurring, but I thought she'd just had one too many. She sounded so drowsy and confused… then she told me she'd called 9-1-1, that she'd taken pills, tried to commit suicide…"

  "The doctor said she took some pills and alcohol."

  "She doesn't take pills, not even aspirin," she said.

  "She's doing fine now," the doctor said. "We performed a gastric lavage, we pumped her stomach, and then gave her flumazenil as a precaution. Her cardiac and respiratory functions are fine. We'll keep her overnight for observation, but she should be able to go home tomorrow."

  "But—"

  "I would suggest you get her some psychiatric counseling to deal with the issues that triggered the overdose."

  "Her parents are traveling abroad for another week—I haven't been able to reach them."

  "Does she live alone?"

  "Yes," I replied.

  "I would suggest that someone stay with her—"

  "Daniel can stay with her at her apartment until her parents return."

  I was about to object, and strongly, but didn't want to argue in front of the doctor. He simply nodded, and after notifying us that the nurses would keep us updated, he turned and left.

  "Mother, I just broke up with her. She's not going to want to—"

  "You know she's been under an enormous amount of stress, Daniel. And to just throw that out at her? That you're done?"
/>   She gave me the look; the look she perfected over the years, since I was a teen. One that conveyed sad disappointment. I inhaled, counted to five, and then exhaled. I would give her this one.

  "She intimated to me that you’d been seeing someone else, that you must have been because you haven't been particularly interested in… in personal time with her."

  I didn't even know how to respond to that without divulging anything about Ashley. "Mother, I am not going to discuss my sex life with you." At the same time, I realized that continuing a relationship with Ashley at this point would be unfair to her.

  Upon hearing the news of Karen's hospitalization, my guilt weighed so heavily on me that I decided I would take responsibility, that I would try to make things work between us, that I would continue with the plans for marriage. Did I want to? No, but I certainly didn't want someone's suicide attempt resting on my shoulders.

  That was nearly a week ago. A week during which I realized, once again, that I actually feel stuck between a rock and a hard place. Stuck with a woman I don't care about. Oh, I’ve done my part, telling her she has to rest in bed the day after she got discharged from the hospital. Tried to show concern, tried to listen to her crying—no tears—about how devastated she was when I broke it off with her, and how she didn't think she could go on.

  She didn't seem much worse for the wear to me. She got clingy, fast. Every time I tried to leave her bedroom she started to weep, sniffling into her Kleenex as if it were the end of the world. She was a drama queen before. Now? This was getting ridiculous.

  I know one thing that would definitely soothe my own stress and increasing aggravation, but I can't bring myself to look for a random sub to have sex with in my basement. I resolve that I definitely won’t call Ashley. Especially not after I told her that I wanted a different relationship with her. She hasn’t called and I haven’t called her either—not yet, anyway. I don't think she will reach out to me. I will call her, but not until I get everything figured out.