by KB Alan
He got on top of her, her body welcoming him, wrapping around him, accepting him. “I love all those parts of you and too many more to mention right now.” He positioned himself, slid into her, knowing without having to check that she would be ready for him. His eyes were steady on hers, though hers were glassy with tears, when he was fully seated inside her. “I love you, Emma Lee. I love everything about you.” Her whole body clenched around him, her fingers digging into his back, her ankles hooked around his.
“I love you, too,” she gasped.
He smiled as she came around him. “I know.”
She laughed and he came to the sound of that sweet music.
When they both had their breath back, he rested his forehead against hers. “I’m going to make it worth your while to keep on loving me, Emma.”
She smiled up at him. “I know.”
****
They stayed in California for two more days. Her Dad was even able to take her and Drew fishing. She loved how accepting her parents were of Drew. They didn’t hesitate to welcome him and begin to show him what it meant to be part of a loving family.
On the flight home, Drew told her that he’d looked at some postings for jobs in California. The fact that he was willing to do so, and that he had before her attempt at breaking up with him, had her crying into his shoulder on the flight. But only for a moment. She tried to tell him she was willing to move, too, but he insisted it was better the other way around.
By the time they got home, she was exhausted, so he took her to her apartment and they stayed the night there so she could get to class the next morning. It took a lot of work to catch up from her few days away, and then she launched into finals. The great thing about Drew’s plan to look was that there was no hurry for her to get back. She could stay with him while he searched, and they could go out to California together. Taryn had said she could keep working at Grounded as long as she wanted to.
He went to her graduation and his pride was as strong, if not stronger than, that of her parents’. Taryn cried, knowing it meant Emma would be leaving soon, but her friend was so happy for her that she insisted it just meant she’d have to convince the guys to take vacations to California once in a while.
Emma agreed and said that she and Drew would have to come out for the occasional winter fix, as well. Drew said Toby was already making plans for places he wanted to visit in Northern California. Which got Emma thinking of some threesome plans of her own, which she described to Drew to very good effect one night.
A week after graduation, when her parents had left and she’d emptied her apartment out and moved into Drew’s house, he told her he had a couple of solid leads on the job front. She knew he was anxious to get started in their new life, though she would miss the house where they’d fallen in love. And she still wasn’t convinced it was fair that he was giving up everything and she was getting everything she wanted.
After dinner, he got the intense expression that she knew meant good things were in store for her. She got that little tingle and felt her body going still in anticipation of what he’d ask of her.
“Will you let me do something different? It might sound strange, but I want to push you, push your boundaries. Now that you really are mine.”
She smiled. “You don’t think what we’ve been doing has been pushing my boundaries?”
He cupped her face in his hands. “Not so much. And I’m not going to push hard. Just try something new. What I want to do, it’s not meant to scare you. It’s meant to show you how much you trust me, how much I trust you. It’s not something I would ever do without being at this level of trust.” He kissed her nose. “Does that make sense?”
She sighed. “I’m not really sure, to be honest. But it’s obviously important to you, so, okay.”
He gave her a soft kiss. “I want you to take a shower. Put your hair back, I don’t want it in my way tonight. Make yourself ready for me. No clothes, though. Okay?”
“Yes, Sir.”
One more kiss, and he stepped back.
She showered, brushed her teeth and braided her hair. It was easier now than it ever had been before, getting into the proper headspace for a scene. Before, she’d never played with one person long enough to reach this level of trust. She’d spend too much time during preparation wondering about the other player, or what they were going to do, to fully immerse herself.
She didn’t need to do that now. She didn’t need to give any thought to what was going to happen, other than a mild anxiousness about what he had in store for her. But that just made it easier, because even with the anticipation, there was the full knowledge that it would be okay, that it would be good, because it was Drew. She walked into the bedroom and found it empty so she pulled on a robe and headed into the living room.
For a change, he didn’t seem to have heard her coming. From her angle she could see his face as he sat on the couch, reading something on his laptop. There was a gym bag on the floor next to him. The same one he’d brought to the hotel room in Boston. She eyed it, unsure of what it meant, then decided it didn’t really matter. Instead she moved her attention to his face.
Had she ever noticed how long his nose was for his face? It had a little bump on the ridge and she wondered if it was natural, or if he’d broken it at some point. His ears were close to his head at the top, but the bottoms stuck out a bit and the lobes were detached. She remembered learning that was a genetic trait in high school biology. Her lobes were detached, too, so chances were good if they had children…
She watched his forehead crinkle as he reacted to something he was reading. Or maybe he was just wondering what was taking her so long. Still, she wasn’t quite ready to give up her view, so she stayed quiet and kept watching him.
He had big cheekbones, which she would have thought should make a man look pretty, but instead gave him a commanding strength. His hair was getting a little long. He shifted in his seat. Okay, no more stalling. She took a deep breath and stepped into the room, dropping her robe onto the chair as she passed it to stand in front of him.
When he raised his head, he smiled at her. He set the computer down and rose.
“You look clean and fresh. How do you feel?”
“I feel good.”
He studied her for a minute, then nodded. “Excellent. Tell me your safe words.”
Her eyes widened at that, but he gave no reaction. She licked her suddenly dry lips before answering. “Red for stop. Yellow for slow down and discuss.”
“Good.” He pulled the throw blanket from the back of the couch and spread it out on the floor in front of the couch, folded in half so it was double thickness. He sat on the couch and indicated the blanket. “Sit there. You don’t have to kneel. You can be comfortable, but I don’t want you moving around a whole lot.”
This was so not what she’d expected, but he’d warned her he wanted to try something new. She lowered herself to the floor and sat back against the couch, between his legs, close enough that she could feel the brush of his leg hairs against her arm. She was absurdly grateful that he’d only put on shorts, and realized he’d made sure the room would be plenty warm for her naked body.
There were movements behind her and she turned to look. He’d said she could move, but he stopped her with a gentle hand just before darkness settled over her. The blindfold was a proper one, not just a cloth folded up for the task. She strained to listen, to process as he adjusted the buckle against her hair, pulling the straps so that they were tight but not uncomfortable.
When he was finished, she straightened her head and faced forward again. Waited. The heat of his body disappeared. He was no longer sitting on the couch next to her, and she was blind. She tried to hear what he was up to, was certain he was close by, but she couldn’t make out his movements.
Only her careful concentration kept her from jumping when his hands settled on her head, then drew down the sides of her face until they covered her ears. The underwater, ocean sound was strangely loud.
The slide of his palms was thunderous. Then it was replaced by low thrumming as he pushed rubber earplugs into her ears. She heard herself swallow.
Sensory deprivation was something she’d marked as a maybe on her club sheet. Other than blindfolds and gags, it wasn’t something she’d ever tried. She drew in a deep breath and waited.
Large thumbs brushed along her jawline, then pulled. She opened her mouth, fully expecting a gag to fill it, but the thumbs moved up, then along her cheekbones until they rested against her nostrils. She blinked behind the blindfold, confused, until the fingers pushed carefully, sealing off her nose. Breathing through her mouth, she felt his hands pull away but the pressure on her nostrils remained. Not tight enough to be a clothespin, she wasn’t sure what it was, but it wasn’t even uncomfortable, really, other than the fact that she had to breathe through her mouth.
He lifted her chin, used his thumbs to massage the joints of her jaw until she relaxed her gaping mouth to a comfortable position. A quick brush of his lips across her forehead reassured her and she felt her shoulders drop as she relaxed some.
Movement all around her had her holding her breath, trying to anticipate what was happening. Then everything stopped. She released her breath and took stock of what she could tell. His legs were touching her arms. He’d sat back down on the couch, right behind her so that his legs bracketed her body. She waited, but nothing else happened. Gradually, she relaxed back against the sofa, thrilled to feel his touch on either side of her. Eventually she remembered that she hadn’t been ordered to stay still. Tentatively she inched her right hand out until she was touching his foot. When nothing happened, she relaxed again. Waited.
Time lost all meaning. She wasn’t sure if it was minutes or an hour when one of his legs shifted slightly, a hand passed over her hair in a brief caress, and his leg resettled where it had been. Her thoughts were consumed with figuring out his movements. Had he reached out to get a drink, then replaced the glass and brushed her head in passing, in reassurance? Had he needed to scratch an itch between his shoulder blades? She chose to believe that whatever had precipitated the movement, the touch had been deliberate and thoughtful. A reassurance that he knew she was still there, that she was being good and obedient.
Her heart almost stopped when his hand, large and warm, settled on her shoulder, just for a few seconds. It traveled down her arm, then away again. More waiting. Gradually her thoughts stopped obsessing about what he was doing, what he was going to do next. Her mind drifted for a time, hardly registering the shift of his left leg so that it just barely made contact with the side of her breast. Part of her shivered in acknowledgement, but most of her was too far away to react.
The sounds in her ears seemed to change. No longer the thrum of a tunnel, it began to sound like her heartbeat. Like she was in a womb, hearing her own heartbeat. Or was it hers? Maybe it was his. Either way, she concentrated on the cadence until her mind drifted again.
She swallowed, and the feel of her lips pressing together brought her back to her physical self a little bit. It occurred to her that she could no longer feel the couch against her back, as if he’d denied her that sensation as well. She knew it was there, but the knowledge was meaningless. Only the warmth of his foot under her hand, the tickle of his legs against her arms, registered. They were her only points of contact with the world. He was her world.
There was enough of her left to realize that was the point. He’d done this to her on purpose, shown her that on purpose. A month ago she would have thought that was ridiculous. But now, she knew he would only do this because she was his world. And he wanted to make certain not only that she knew, but that he would make it good for her.
It clicked. Not that she’d really ever give her whole self over to someone’s control and domination, but he knew that. Didn’t want that, either. He would expect only her heart and her submission. In return, he was offering…himself. It didn’t matter where they lived. As long as they were together, mentally as well as physically.
She took in a shuddering breath. They were in this together. She had to trust him. Trust him enough to talk to him, tell him what she wanted, and trust that he would do the same.
Her train of thought derailed when he took one of her earlobes between thumb and forefinger. Played with it. How the hell had her earlobe become so erotic? Sure, she loved it when he sucked on it, bit it, but this? He was just rubbing it between his fingers and she was breaking out in goose bumps. The hand she rested on his foot curled slightly, her fingernails scraping lightly over his skin. Somehow it translated into sensation all the way up her arm.
He kept his hand on her ear but she felt him rise behind her, almost cried out at the loss of his foot under her hand, his legs against her arms. He brushed a finger up her cheek, then disappeared.
She focused, not trying to hear or anticipate anything, but tried to regain that sense of release. Her body was his to do with as he pleased. What he gave her, she would take. One breath in, one breath out. She let the air cycle through her, settle her. She waited.
The touch of his finger against her lip brought her joy. She couldn’t help the smile that stretched across her mouth. He traced the curve then replaced his finger with something else. Something plastic. She darted her tongue out, closed her top lip over it, and nearly shouted in triumph when she realized it was a straw.
Sucking carefully, she drank the water. When she was done, she simply opened her mouth again and the straw disappeared. The next touch was so light, she wasn’t sure she was feeling anything at all, at first. The tickle in the crook of her elbow became stronger, then zigzagged its way down her arm. Her belly button was next and she tightened her abs in reaction. Was it a feather? Something soft and featherlike, at any rate. It touched her cheek, then jumped down between her breasts. Her nipples hardened in hope, but nothing else happened for a minute. Pinpricks raced suddenly across her thigh, then her stomach. Probably a pinwheel. She’d experienced one before, but it hadn’t affected her like this. He got the back of her neck, next to her braid, and she couldn’t stop a shiver.
There was another long pause and she took the opportunity to recenter. Now she could feel something he hadn’t blocked from her. Moisture dripping from her pussy, signaling her readiness. Her need.
Something cold touched her lip. Liquid…but thick. She tested with her tongue, found it sweet. A firmer touch brought more of the sweet juice and she realized it tasted like peach. He eased a slice of the fruit between her lips and she accepted it, feasted on the delicious freshness. It was weird, eating with her nose plugged, like when she had a bad cold. Not uncomfortable exactly, but odd.
Expecting to eat another slice, instead she felt cool stickiness on the side of her neck, followed by the welcome heat of his tongue lapping it up. He repeated the action on her thigh, letting the juice get tantalizingly close to the crease of her pelvis, but not close enough. His nose brushed her stomach as he cleaned her, but her core was left untouched.
Again, he waited. No touch, no smell, no taste. Finally one thick, solid drip hit her nipple and she couldn’t hold back the slight cry of thanks. More drips followed, then he painted her other breast with the peach slice, drawing it around her breast in circles before smacking her nipple with it. She wondered what it sounded like, what it looked like. Waited for him to taste it. When he used only the tip of his tongue to clean her, taking his time, she almost begged.
He abandoned her breast when it was still sticky, grabbed her shoulders and pulled her down to the floor. Whatever held her nose closed disappeared and she smelled him. Smelled sweet peaches and sweat and man. Smelled Drew. He fused his mouth with hers so that she could barely breathe, even with her nose clear. She tasted the fruit, cleaned him of the juices that were left on him as best she could.
When he pulled back she moaned, then again when he held more fruit to her lips. Wasn’t he done with that? Wasn’t he ready for more? She sucked the peach into her mouth and reminded herself that they were on his sch
edule, his timeline. They’d move forward when he was ready. She chewed slowly, carefully, as he ran his hands up her sides, pulled her arms up so that they were over her head, elbows bent wide, hands clasping.
He painted a path between her breasts with a fresh slice, dripping with juice. He circled her belly button, then stabbed her with an ice pick. That’s what her brain told her, for a fraction of a second, before she realized he’d set an ice cube in the cavity of her belly button. Her chest heaved, but she fought not to dislodge the ice. A streak of heat started at her shoulder, lined its way across her collar bone and dipped into the hollow of her neck. Thicker than the juice, not really liquid, but hot. Honey? Was that sweet smell honey? It wasn’t a flavor she’d ever much cared for, but as a body paint she’d give it full props.
The cold on her belly was almost forgotten as Drew again circled her breasts with his paint, delicious heat working its way slowly, too slowly, toward her nipples. At last, at last he was millimeters from her aching points. The heat enveloped her, much hotter than the streaks he’d painted. She lurched, the melted ice cube from below sliding down her side. Not hot, but cold. More ice cubes, held against her straining nipples, icy water dribbling down to mix with the thick warmth coating her breasts. Her gasps had a raw feel to them and she suddenly realized she had no idea if she was making sound or not.
The mix of hot and cold abruptly combusted with the heat of his tongue as he began to clean up his latest mess. He gripped her breasts, pushed them together and took both of her nipples into his mouth, sucking hard. She heard herself cry out, a dim sound from beyond the earplugs.
“God, Emma. What you do to me.” The muffled words drove her higher, nearly pushed her over the edge of orgasm. He’d barely even touched her but she felt like he’d enveloped her in his warmth.