by Lee, Roz
“You’re so fuckin’ perfect.” He kneaded her breast, wishing he’d turned on a light before he crawled between her legs. He’d heard her, straining against the restraints, moaning, and he’d come to see about her. She’d obviously been dreaming, writhing for her lover in her sleep, and so beautiful all he could think about was walking into her fantasy and taking her to a place she was afraid to go in the light of day.
“Your pussy is so hot and wet. I’ve never felt anything like it, angel.” He pumped harder, and with each thrust, he gave a little more of himself to her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers grasping for a handhold in his hair. He stared into her eyes, loving the welcome he saw there. It was inconceivable how he’d denied them both this connection for so long. He took her harder, saw the moment she surrendered everything to him, felt it in the way she softened under him, letting him take what he needed, trusting him to care for her.
He reached between them to find her clit. “Come with me, angel. Share your wings with me.”
Chapter Twenty-one
The need in his eyes made her go all weak and gooey inside. How had she missed this vulnerable part of him? Maybe it was because he had never let her see it. This was the real reason he’d kept her blindfolded so long, not because he didn’t trust her to keep the secret about his sexual inclinations, but because he didn’t trust her to keep this secret—the one he hid from everyone.
His need for her was so deep and primal it ruled him, but along with that need was his fear of rejection he hid away from everyone, including himself. Warmth bloomed inside her. She gave herself to him. He was a powerful man on the outside, but a frightened, lonely boy on the inside. She stroked his back. His firm ass flexed. He drove into her as if he tried to squeeze his entire body into hers. She opened her heart and took him deep.
You’re safe. You’ll always be inside me. I’ll never let go. She cradled his face with her palms so he couldn’t look away from her. “I’ve got you.”
He roared like a lion freed from captivity. His body coiled tight then he pushed up with his hands and unleashed his need. He took her, each thrust brutal and punishing. She relaxed her body, absorbing the impact, reveling at the power of the man inside her as he let loose the demons he’d held in check so long.
She cradled his hips, loving the feel of his hard muscles as they slid across her palms. His cock battered into her, filling her, shattering her heart, so all her love for him spilled out. The words were on her lips, but she held them. The slick slide of his cock beckoned her to spread her wings and fly.
His eyes mirrored her need. “Fly with me, Jason.”
She raised her arms over her head and arched her body, seeking the pressure that would send her over the edge. He stretched out over her, pinning her hands with one hand, stroking her from breast to hip with the other, grinding against her, giving her what she asked for.
His cock pulsed inside her. The sensation was all she needed. Her heart took wing, carrying them both into the dark abyss and from there, straight into the sunrise.
* * *
He moved around the kitchen—ostensibly to fix them breakfast. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he had no clue what he was doing.
“Want some help?” she asked, sliding off the barstool he’d directed her to when hunger had driven them from their bed.
He stared at the coffee maker. “Uh…yeah, I guess. Do you know how to work this thing?”
She gave him a hip bump. “Step away from the coffee maker,” she said in a nasally voice. He laughed. While he watched, she went through the motions, coaxing a burp and gurgle from the machine.
“Excellent,” Jason said.
“Food?” She headed toward a set of tall cabinets that looked like they might conceal a refrigerator.
“That would be nice.” He tagged along behind her. He looked over her shoulder at the empty shelves.
She nodded. “Yep, it would be. Nice, that is.” She opened the drawer labeled meats. Empty. Same with the vegetable bin. There was a tub of soft margarine in one of the door shelves. She opened it, bringing it to her nose for a sniff. “This will do. Now all we need is some bread.” She tossed the margarine tub on the counter and opened the nearest cabinet.
Jason crossed to a concealed door on the far wall. “Pantry, I think.”
This time, Carrie followed him, stopping short at the empty shelves of a cook’s dream—a walk-in pantry.
“This is….”
“Pathetic?” He grabbed the one item occupying the space and held it out to her. “Bread.”
She took the loaf, eyeing it for freshness. “I was going to say, incredible, but pathetic works, too.” She held the loaf up. “When did you buy this?”
Jason shrugged. “Last week?”
She rolled her eyes and spun on her heels. He followed her out, passing her when she stopped to open drawers looking for flatware.
He opened one in the island behind her. “Utensils are over here.”
“Thanks,” she said. “Toaster?”
He pointed to a corner cabinet. “Over there.”
They sipped coffee and nibbled toast until they’d taken the edge off their hunger. He managed to refill their mugs then he sat back down, tracing the handle of his with his fingertip. She waited for whatever he was getting up the nerve to say.
“I almost died when I was nine,” he said.
* * *
Carrie sat to one side of the packed media room at Mustangs Stadium, along with Jason’s parents, his brother Jeff, Megan, and Doyle Walker, the Mustangs’ manager. His teammates formed a solid line around three walls of the room, standing in support of one of their own.
She admired the inner strength it took for him to bare his soul here today. Of course, no one could possibly guess how difficult this press conference was for him. He wouldn’t let them. He stood tall, his posture relaxed, his voice confident. He was completely in control of himself, and his welcoming smile insured he controlled the room. She thought her heart might burst with pride.
“Good afternoon,” he greeted the crowd. “My name is Jason Holder, and I’m a catcher for the Texas Mustangs, in case you didn’t know.” A chuckle rose from the assemblage.
“Many of you are aware that a player on another team has accused me of not only using, but also providing steroids to him and other players,” he said, his tone indicating how much he disliked the subject matter. “I have remained quiet, under the assumption that lies should not be given credence by speaking of them. I’ve called this press conference today to tell you a story. There are only a few people who know what I am about to tell you, and they have kept it to themselves at my insistence. First, let me say, the Mustangs organization has known this from the beginning of our association. Actually, since the first scout watched Jeff and me play at a high school tournament.
“When Jeff and I were nine years old we came down with a case of strep throat. It’s a common ailment at that age, and we were given antibiotics to combat the bacterial infection. We both recovered, but where Jeff resumed his normal activities, I did not. The infection was gone, but I had very little energy, and things went downhill from there. Weeks went by, and I underwent every test known to medical science. At least that’s what it seemed like to a nine-year-old.”
The crowd chuckled again. Jason cleared his throat. He looked directly at her, and she saw a lifetime of pain in his gaze. She offered him a weak smile for encouragement. His lips lifted on the corners ever so slightly, then he looked out across the room and continued his prepared speech.
“I was diagnosed with Patent ductus arteriosus, a congenital heart defect. I won’t bore you with the details right now, but it was something I was born with, and it had gone undetected until the incident with the strep bacteria. A small opening in a blood vessel that should have closed itself shortly after birth, had failed to do so, allowing the strep bacteria access to my heart. I spent four weeks in the hospital where I was given massive do
ses of antibiotics to combat the infection. By then, the damage was done, and I underwent open-heart surgery to repair my heart valve and to close the artery that was the cause of all my problems in the first place.
“I know you’re wondering what this has to do with steroid use, so bear with me another moment.” He paused for a drink of water from the bottle provided for him. He cleared his throat again. “I was in the hospital for nearly two months. My brother came to see me every day after school. He brought my school work, kept me up to date on everything that went on in my absence, and told the worst jokes you’ve ever heard.”
A low rumble of laughter filled the room. Jason glanced at his brother who smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
“We’d always been baseball fans. We played Little League the year before I became ill. Just two little boys having fun. But Jeff had another idea. Somehow, he got it in his head that we were good, and if we worked at it, we could play major league ball. He brought my glove to the hospital, and everyday he told me how he was going to learn to pitch, and I was going to be his catcher. It was his dream, but it became mine, too.
“I eventually got out of the hospital, and we returned to the baseball field. We were pretty awesome in high school, if I do say so myself.” He grinned like the braggart he must have been back then, and the crowd erupted in laughter. He had them eating out of his hand, and he knew it.
“Every year we went for our physicals, and by then, it was pretty clear my heart was doing fine, but I still had to have special clearance from my cardiologist in order to play. When I was thirteen, he warned me about steroids. You see, there’s evidence linking steroid use to the reopening of PDA. He was right to warn me. We both knew players who chose to use steroids in high school. For kids with major league, hell, even college aspirations, it was tempting. But my experience in the hospital, and the months of recovery following, convinced me I’d never do anything to risk a repeat performance.
“So, long story, folks, but that’s it. I’d have to be insane to use steroids, and even though some people—” He nodded in Jeff’s direction—“like my brother over there, might question my sanity, I assure you, I’m completely sane. Given my medical history and seeing what performance enhancing drugs have done to otherwise healthy and rational people, I would never use steroids or under any circumstances encourage anyone else to, and I certainly wouldn’t provide them for anyone.
“I thank you for your patience today. If you’ll hold your questions for a little longer, we have some information for you that explains more about PDA. Inside, you’ll find an excellent article written by Carradine Taylor, the reporter who originally broke this story, outlining my commitment to local children who are going through similar experiences to mine.”
Players handed out the prepared press release folders. Hands shot up. He called on reporters one at a time, patiently answering most questions and politely referring others to the more detailed report they’d been handed. She understood his reluctance to speak publicly about his private pain, and she’d been happy to help him translate his thoughts and emotions into words.
It seemed like they’d never run out of questions, but finally, Jeff joined his brother, followed by the team manager who took over while they stepped away from the microphone.
“That’s all folks. Now, if you don’t mind, we have a game tomorrow in Kansas City. I hate to break up the party,” he said and motioned to Jeff, Jason, and the group still lining the walls, “but I gotta get these guys on a plane.”
* * *
“It’s only three days,” she said, nuzzling his neck.
“Three days too long.” He caressed her breast, his tender massage coaxing her body to a slow simmer. Dipping his head, he teased her nipple with his tongue, and she moaned. “I like the way you taste.”
Her arms felt useless, but she managed to lift one enough to run her fingers through his hair. “That feels good,” she sighed. “So, so, good.”
And wicked too, lazing around the house naked. She’d never dared before, but she’d dare just about anything to see Jason smile. She floated while he turned his attention to the other breast, giving it the same attentive care he had the other. His erection pressed against her hip. She wiggled her ass in hopes he’d take more of her. He released her breast, but before she could protest, his mouth came down on hers. His kiss spoke of good things to come—things they probably didn’t have time for—but his lips were hot, his tongue insistent and thorough in communicating his desires. She gave herself up to his demands, opening for him, welcoming him between her legs. His cock nudged at her entrance, teasing. Her hips rose, inviting.
“Shh,” he soothed. The weight of his body pressing hers into the sofa cushions felt like Heaven.
She groaned, and he placed feather light kisses on her temples, her cheekbones, her jaw line.
“I want to think about this while I’m gone. I want this image in my mind. You underneath me, offering yourself. This is what I want when I get home, to find you in my bed, all soft, warm, and willing. I want to make love to you all night then do it again in the morning for the rest of my life.”
His hands stroked her hair, the lines of her face. He traced the shell of her ear with his tongue, and she shivered.
“Tell me you’ll be here when I get home.”
The head of his cock breached her. She groaned, and her hips lifted. “I’ll be here.”
“Uh-uh, angel.” He rolled slightly to one side and pinched her nipple, sending a desperate message to her pussy. “None of that.”
He tweaked her nipple again, and she arched her head back with another groan. Her pussy clenched, begging him to go deeper.
He scooted off her, and the sofa. Carrie cried out.
“Wait here,” he said.
It was only a moment before he returned and swung her around, pulling her ass to the edge of the sofa. He grabbed throw pillows, wedging them behind her so she was in a half-upright position.
Kneeling between her knees, he guided his cock to her pussy and stopped. “I have something for you.”
She sat up at the sight of the white velvet box he produced. It was too big to be a ring box, but still…he’d never given her anything in all the time they’d been together.
“I want to seal this deal. I want you, forever.” He opened the box, revealing not only the most stunning diamond ring she’d ever seen, but a matching necklace and bracelet. “I bought the collar, but I wanted something you could wear all the time in public, so I got the bracelet, too.”
She fumbled for words. Questions tumbled through her brain, so many she didn’t know which one to ask first. She finally settled on one. “And the ring?”
“I want you to be my wife, and I want you to belong to me, too.”
Her heart went out to him, the poor guy was as confused as she was.
“I think I understand,” she said, running a finger over the beautiful, sleek lines of the collar. “The collar is a symbol of my submission, and you’d like me to wear it.”
“Yes, that’s what I want, and I realize you can’t wear it all the time. But maybe you could wear the bracelet? I want you to wear the ring because that’s something everyone will recognize. I mean…the collar and bracelet are for me, for us. Our private commitment. There’s a wedding band, too, and one for me. Will you marry me, Carrie? Will you wear my collar and my ring?”
Tears sprang to her eyes. She dashed them away with trembling fingers. He wanted her! Forever! Oh God. She’d wear anything he asked if it meant being his for the rest of their lives.
“Yes, and yes! They’re beautiful, Jason. I can’t believe you did this.”
He slipped the ring on her finger then placed the collar around her neck.
“Mine,” he said, securing it with a snap.
“Yours,” she said. “I don’t want to take it off, ever, Sir.”
“I’ll understand if you don’t want to wear it in public, but promise you’ll wear it for me.”
“I prom
ise.”
She reached for him. He captured her wrists and guided her hands to her mound.
“Open for me. I need to be inside you.”
She gently pulled her labia back, exposing herself to him. She blushed crimson. He’d seen her before, many times, but that had been in the Dungeon room where it didn’t seem so…naughty. And then, she had been safe behind the blindfolds, only imagining the expression on the face of her unknown lover.
Now, she didn’t have to imagine his face or the raw lustful expression on it. She could see his face with her own eyes. She’d never believed a man could look at her that way, like he’d been wandering in the desert for a week, and she was a fountain of fresh spring water. He licked his lips, and her pussy gushed.
“Christ almighty, Carrie.”
He grabbed her ankles and brought them up to the edge of the sofa, spreading them wide, taking her knees along with them. He buried his face in her pussy. He fucked her with his tongue, made love to her with his lips, taking her to a place she’d never dreamed existed. If she thought she’d found Heaven before, she’d been wrong. This was it.
The moment his mouth closed over her, her fingers slipped into his hair. She clutched at his scalp, digging her nails in to keep him there. It was the most erotic display ever—his dark head rested between her legs, bobbing and thrusting while he held her ankles wide. Occasionally, he looked up at her, seeking her eyes in silent communication. See. You’re mine. This…this is mine.
“Master…Jason!” she cried when the promised orgasm ripped through her.
He continued to torment her, teasing her clit with his tongue and teeth, drawing out her pleasure until the last ripple, the last twinge subsided. He placed a tender kiss on her inner thighs then one on her swollen mound.