by Litte, Jane
“Oh.” That hadn’t ever occurred to me, that people might think that. I had thought that I was safe precisely because I was discreet. But apparently I should have been thinking in terms of acquiring a beard. “No, I’m more or less straight.”
“More or less?”
What was it with guys and the girl-on-girl-action radar? “I’m straight. But you know, not everything about, um, what I do has to do with sex. Or not exactly. I like it best that way, but it doesn’t have to involve actual intercourse. I mean, it could be a woman who was . . . Wow, I really wasn’t expecting to have this conversation with you tonight. Or ever.”
Why was I having this conversation with him, anyway? I didn’t do this, didn’t make a habit of satisfying the prurient curiosity of vanilla boys like Nathan. But here I remained. Because it was Nathan. Whose charm I had always had trouble resisting. And it was so very charming, the way he was leaning in, managing to look innocent and roguish at the same time while asking me about the deep, dark side of me that he had never seen. With anybody else, I would have felt like the questions were about the deviance, the train wreck of humanity that person had suddenly perceived in me. But with Nathan, I just felt like he was eager to learn more about me.
“Show me.”
“What?”
“Show me. Come home with me. Or take me home with you, because you’re probably a little better equipped.”
This couldn’t be what it sounded like. I wasn’t even sure I knew what it sounded like.
“What exactly are you asking me to do, Nathan?”
My hand was shaking a little even before his fingers curved over mine. Foolish, that the prospect of somebody taking my hand could make me so nervous. His hand was heavy, and a little cool from holding the beer. It looked and felt at least twice the size of mine.
“Ashley, why didn’t you want to hear me talking about paddling?”
Oh, well, if he was going to use my first name this was an entirely new ball game. I couldn’t remember the last time I had heard Nathan say my name. And it had never been in a dark booth in “our” bar, where he was holding my hand and asking me—telling me—to take him home with me. For paddling. And, I could only assume, sex.
“I try to keep all that separate from work. It’s just easier that way. Compartmentalizing.”
“I understand that. But am I just part of work?”
He was chiding. Gently, but enough. Whether or not he intended to be turning me on, that was the net effect. My panties were soaked; I was yearning. And all he had done thus far was hold my hand and scold me just the tiniest bit.
“No,” I whispered. “You know you’re not.”
“Hey. Look at me.”
I did. I shouldn’t have. I felt like I might be damning him, pulling him into something that wasn’t really meant for him. Asking him for something he might never be able to give.
“You’ve been holding out on me, Ashley,” he continued in that same soft but stern tone. “We’ve both made some big assumptions. Turns out mine were mostly wrong. Maybe yours were, too. If you just thought I could never do stuff like that, maybe you were wrong. I really don’t know. But I think I deserve a chance to try, at least.”
I think a tiny part of me had always known it would have to come to this one day. I liked him too much to avoid it forever. He presented far too great a temptation, and I was feeling weak in the resisting-temptation muscles.
“Okay.” I still wasn’t sure what he was asking me for, and I suppose he could tell that.
“Why didn’t you want to hear me talk about paddling? Why me?”
Oh. That.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to let some of my dark anxiety loose along with it before I answered in the most direct way possible. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Because it turns me on too much to think of you doing that to me.”
I was a trembling, overwrought wreck by the time Nathan had me naked in my bedroom. There had been a certain amount of kissing along the way there, but that hadn’t exactly calmed me down. And now, here was Nathan in my apartment, looking very large, taking up a great deal of psychological space there. He had been there so many times, but he never seemed to fill up the rooms the way he did when he was naked and I was naked and there was needy flesh and anticipation everywhere. He was a very good kisser, which didn’t quite surprise me. But kissing only takes you so far.
If he had been a Dom, he would have told me what to do. That would have calmed me. As it was, I was a loose wire, zipping around and full of energy that I had no idea how to channel on my own. I wondered if he would consider tying me up, tying me down. Tethering me to something, anything. But I didn’t have the nerve to spring any more complications on him just then.
“So how does this work?” he asked after his pants hit the ground. I had to take a second to gather my thoughts and tear my eyes away from the compelling sight of Nathan’s cock—Nathan’s cock—springing out from his body all ruddy and tense. Pointed at me, as if to make sure I knew I was the focus of his attention. It was a nice size, I noticed, and it wasn’t even fully hard yet.
I shrugged, wondering how I could be so tongue-tied when I made a living speaking to intimidating people like judges and other trial lawyers and high-dollar corporate clients. “However you want it to work, I guess?”
Figure this out. Please just figure it out. Act out something you saw on the Internet, read in a book. Take the reins, somehow.
To my utter shock and delight, he did just that. Not perfectly, but well enough. More than well enough.
“Well okay then. C’mere.” And sitting on the edge of my bed, he patted his legs suggestively. When I started to perch on his knee, he frowned and shook his head. “Not like that.”
“Oh. You want me to . . . ?”
After an awkward few seconds I leaned over and slowly lowered my weight onto his lap, gasping as the coarse hairs on his thighs scratched at my hardening nipples. His erection prodded my ribs from beneath, while his arms reached over to tuck me closer.
“Yeah, like that.” One of his big hands was pressed firmly between my shoulder blades, the other at the small of my back. It was such a familiar feeling in so many ways. Except the only way that mattered was that this was Nathan, and I had dreamed of this, and it was the dream I had never been brave enough to hope would come true. And it was all happening very fast, somehow, despite being five years in the building.
“What is it you like about it?”
“Everything,” I admitted, too fuzzy to make up a better answer. I could feel Nathan’s chuckle before I heard it. Then I felt his hand sliding from my back to my ass, a stroke, and then a firm squeeze.
Then a spank, which I was not expecting. And hard. He hadn’t held back.
“Be more specific.”
If he had moved his long fingers just a few inches, he would have felt how wet I already was. He could be great at this if he wanted to be. My butt was warming under his palm, the pain dissipating into heat. If he had been a Dom, I wouldn’t have answered the way I did.
“Start out a little softer,” I said, feeling brave. “Then you can work up. That was a little too hard to start out.”
Whack!
“Perfect,” I muttered. “Your hand feels perfect.”
“No paddle?” Oh, I could hear his smile. It made me nearly as wet as the growing heat that spread from my butt to my aching clit and pussy as he spanked me again.
“Not yet. Maybe later. Did your research cover sub space?”
“Yeah. I didn’t really get it, though. I got the endorphin part. Oh, that’s why the slow buildup, right?”
“Umm . . . right. Sorry. Not used to talking while I’m—ah!” That one was a little harder, but it was good now. I was ready for it.
“I really wish I had known about this during law school. I can’t believe I thought you dug chicks. So much wasted time.”
The next three smacks hit in rapid succession, light but steady on the same spot, leav
ing me breathless and squirming. I parted my legs a little, bracing one knee on the bed. “I would never have gone out with you in law school, silly frat boy.”
“Frat boys know a thing or two about paddling,” he pointed out. “Were you into this, even back then?”
I nodded, licking my lips. “You all thought I was studying on Saturday nights. It was my club night. Not a club any of you knew about. Oh, do that more, please!”
He had switched gears and started tapping in a firm, steady rhythm against the tender skin just where my rear end curved into my upper thighs. One side, then the other, the beat steady but the location changing unpredictably. I tried to widen my stance, angle myself so that he might give my pussy some much-needed contact. But whether by chance or design, he left that particular need unmet. When he finally stopped to scrape his fingers lightly over the marks I knew must be blooming on my ass, my hips tried to keep the delicious pace he had set. I ground against the edge of the bed and earned a single, sharper wallop for my trouble.
“None of that. I’ve read enough to know that much. I shouldn’t let you come yet, right?”
He sounded so pleased with himself. It would have been adorable if I hadn’t craved an orgasm so very much just then.
“That’s one option,” I said through gritted teeth. “There are others.”
“Not yet,” he insisted, patting my butt and then squeezing it again. His fingertips grazed against the wetness between my legs, and I groaned as he shifted his grip just enough to drag a finger over the outer folds of my cunt. I clenched at nothing, wanting his cock there already, willing to settle for a finger if that was all he would allow me. But for now he just played and teased, driving me even more insane. “You were being safe all that time, right? Taking precautions and getting tested, all that?”
“You can’t even believe how cautious.” Not that my caution had helped much with the state of mild panic I periodically fell into, knowing how risky it was to frequent a kink club, even if I wasn’t having actual sex with strangers. That had been a hard limit, one that meant I had precious little sex throughout law school. But some things were more important than that, and I’d been happy on the whole with my choices. I needed the other stuff more, to steady me.
“Is it just about the pain? Is that the deal?”
I shook my head. I was trying to stay lucid, but years of habit and training were starting to kick in. I could feel the rush of endorphins taking over, pushing me off the tiresome hamster wheel that was my usual mental state, nudging me into the fuzzy warmth of subspace.
“The pain is just a catalyst. It’s a shortcut. It makes it easy.”
“Makes what easy?” He slipped one finger inside me, and I groaned and pushed into his touch. “Oh, God, you feel so good. So fucking hot and tight. I’ve wanted you for so long, Burke.”
That was news to me, although at the moment it barely even registered. His finger was long, thicker than mine, not quite enough but so close it almost didn’t matter.
“Makes it easy not to think about anything else,” I managed to choke out.
“Oh. You’re thinking too much?”
“Always.” He should know; he usually bore the brunt of it.
“What’s the best thing? What gets your mind completely shut down?”
His fingers brushing against my clit were doing a fairly good job of that at the moment, but I didn’t think he would settle for that answer. He would take nothing less than complete honesty, because that was his nature. I had no idea how I had managed to hide from him for as long as I had. I felt completely transparent, now, unable to keep anything secret from him. He owned my soul, and he probably didn’t even know it.
“Flogging,” I finally said, licking my lips. They were dry, because I’d been panting with the effort not to come. “That’s the best thing. Soft at first, elk hide or something. And then harder until it actually hurts. Makes me feel like all the bad stuff is just being beaten away until there’s only me left. It makes me feel . . . clean.” His fingers were moving with more purpose now, and he slid a second one inside me. The sting on my butt was fading now, leaving me sensitive but not remotely sated.
“Burke . . . Ashley. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then don’t. You couldn’t, Nate. I trust you.” Did that make sense? I wasn’t sure where my head was now, not sure at all.
“Can I have a safe word?”
I laughed loudly and pulled out of my fog just enough to turn my head and look up at him over my shoulder. His hair was mussed, dark brown strands falling over his forehead almost obscuring his pretty brown eyes. But I could see his need, his humor, his willingness to figure things out. It was almost like another point of contact, that look. It warmed parts of me that his clever fingers hadn’t reached. What had I been thinking, to keep this at a distance?
He was already laughing at himself when I corrected him.
“The safe word is for me, Nathan.”
“I know, I know. I meant—”
“I know what you meant.” I tore my gaze away and rested my chin on my folded arms again. “Zombies. If I say zombies, you stop, okay?” I doubted it would ever come up. I would be pushing him as far as he was willing to go. I could only hope it would be far enough, because there was no way in hell I planned to go back to the way things had been. But maybe one day, if things went well, one day he would be the one pushing my limits.
“Zombies? That’s gross.”
“That’s the idea,” I reminded him. Then I reminded him of other things with a little wiggle and squeeze. His hand obligingly started to move again, and he curled his fingers to graze against the most tender spots he could find inside me. But then he removed it, prompting a whine of complaint from me that I wasn’t proud of at all.
“Do you have a paddle?”
No, I did not. I had a very beautiful and much-beloved flogger, but I thought some training was probably in order before he attempted that, and I wasn’t in a mood to stop for instruction.
“No, but I have something else you can use.” I didn’t need it, but I thought maybe he did. To show that he was able to take that step, that risk with me.
Standing up was a challenge, wobbly as my knees were. I shot Nate an equally wobbly smile and ventured into my bathroom to retrieve a certain hairbrush with a very wide, smooth back. I took just enough time to pull the hair out of it before I returned to the bed where he was still sitting. Legs apart now, elbows on his knees, looking strangely relaxed and at home in my bedroom. He took the brush from me and shook his head in disbelief.
“Seriously?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Okay. Climb up on the bed. On all fours. Let’s do this!”
“I like your can-do attitude!”
I was already on the bed when he snickered and aimed a pat at my butt with the brush. “Smart-ass.”
“You like my smart ass,” I teased.
He tapped me again with the brush, not very hard at all. Just testing the thing. Figuring it out. “I like your ass, that’s for sure. I think I could get used to smacking it around, too.”
Whack!
He had leaned into that one, and he didn’t stop at my yelp of dismay. Just laid down a tidy pattern of blows on both sides, working from the meatiest part of my butt down to that magic zone just at the bottom crease, even landing an occasional lighter smack across my pussy. A pro couldn’t have done a better job. Although I admit I was primed by that point. So ready for anything he might do that the last fleeting contact of the brush against my cunt almost made me come before I could get a handle on the process of resisting. Slow, steady breaths. The soft gray inside my pleasantly cloudy mind. The horribly delicious exposed feeling of being on all fours with my ass burning, waiting as I registered the soft crinkle of a foil condom packet being torn. Wanting only to be filled.
The tease of his sheathed cock rubbing against my clit was enough to make me whimper and spread my legs wider in an attempt to get closer. I probably looked like
a bitch in heat, and the beauty of it all was, at that moment I didn’t care what I looked like in the slightest. I just needed, and acted. And so did Nathan, finally pushing his meaty cock inside me and pulling my hips back hard until he was seated as deep as he could be. We both moaned, and then laughed at each other just a little. Laughed at ourselves. How easy we were, how ready we were. How stupid we had been to think we could avoid this when it was so obviously what we were made to do together.
He didn’t hold back, didn’t try to make it gentle. He was thick and hot and perfect inside me, and when he reached his hand under my hip to pet my throbbing clit I came almost immediately. It was hard, it was sweet, it went on longer than I thought possible. The ache in my ass melted away as pleasure zipped through me like a shock, building and cresting and then not quite going away before it started to build again. And it was Nathan, Nathan inside me, and the sound of his voice saying my name with wonder and delight brought me over again as he pumped harder still into the molten heat I had become under his touch.
When I climaxed the second time, he did too, cursing in the good way as his body shook in relief. Curses and my name, and then we both laughed again because when we collapsed, flopping onto the bed like spent balloons, we landed on the upturned hairbrush first thing.
“With a real paddle, that wouldn’t be such a problem,” I pointed out, taking the brush from his hand and lobbing it over the edge of the bed. Then I relaxed on my back, next to Nathan on his. Holding hands, staring at the ceiling.
“Holy shit, Burke.” He sounded awed, exhausted. But not remorseful.
“Holy shit yourself, Nate. Remind me why we never did this?”
His chuckle was a rich baritone rumble, a velvet shiver down my spine. “You were a hot lesbian and I was this guy without a clue, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.”