Only You

by Coleen Singer

  He hoped that his timing hadn't been way off in this, although there was no way to tell, really, and, regardless, he was going to do everything he could to make sure that she came to realize that she belonged with – and to – him.

  Riker managed to surprise her by reaching for her, instead of getting up, as Aidan would have. She certainly did enjoy him folding her against him, even though it just reminded her that she was the only one who was naked, which firmly reinforced her submission to him. Her bottom was tucked up against the still open front of his jeans, and she could feel his cock hardening between her bottom cheeks as a result.

  Somehow, she'd known that he would be just as amazing afterwards as he was during sex. No rolling over and going to sleep for him or, as was the case with one of the men she'd dated, falling asleep on top of her, in the middle of sex.

  Instead, she found herself being the little spoon, quite content to let him surround her and not feeling the least overwhelmed about it, even though he couldn't quite seem to keep his hands to himself, touching her everywhere and nowhere, all at once. He stroked her arm, giving it a gentle squeeze, brushed her hair back from her face and lingered, with his fingers buried in it, close to her scalp, reaching down to pull the blanket over them when she shivered. Even if it was more from a reaction to what he was doing than cold, it was a wonderful, thoughtful thing for him to do, regardless.

  "Okay?" he asked, giving her an all over squeeze that took her breath away for a moment, in several different ways.

  She took a minute to respond and then realized that he was waiting for her response – not angrily or in a way that was looking for a reason to find fault with her, but because he actually wanted to know her answer.

  "Yes, thank you, I'm fine."

  Almost stiltedly polite – especially for them – but it was better than hearing he had hurt her.

  "Are you sleepy?"

  "Not particularly," she answered.

  Riker took a breath and made the plunge into the area he knew he probably didn't want to go into, but he felt he had to, anyway. "Wishing we hadn't done that?"

  Kyah turned her head towards him suddenly, alarmed at the question, not thinking about it, for once in her life, but just saying what she felt, "No, I'm not. Are you?"

  Relief flooded through him, making him almost lightheaded, nearly making him forget to answer her until she tried to turn in his arms to look at him. "No, no, definitely not." With a big hand on her breast, the other claiming the juncture of her thighs, he whispered into her ear, "How could I possibly regret something so wonderfully amazing?" making her blush yet again.

  "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. How's about I rustle us up something that's almost as sweet as you are?"

  When she made to get up, he swung her into his arms instead, bringing her back out into the living room to set her gently on the couch. "But my clothes…" she trailed off.

  "I'm thinking they're just going to get in the way," he teased as he leaned down to give her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "Especially since I intend to have my fill of you."

  "I thought you'd already done that."

  He stopped in the act of walking to the kitchen to execute a picture perfect about face, his eyes smoldering as he rasped, "Oh, hell no. I could make love to you twenty-four-seven for the rest of our lives, and I'd still ache for more of you, MyKy."

  He hadn't used that nickname for her since they were in grade school and it – as well as the naked truth of what he'd said that was there, plain on his face for her to see – made her smile shyly.

  After eating the hot fudge sundae he'd made for her, using the ice cream he'd gotten, Ben and Jerry's hot fudge sauce, whipped cream from a can, nuts and a maraschino cherry, she sank into a sugar coma, right there on the couch with him. His hand rested with titillating casualness over her still slightly pink bottom as he kept her sprawled on top of him, where he'd made her entire body contract by murmuring sternly against the top of her head, "Where I can easily keep an eye on you."

  The rest of the weekend was much like that, with him dancing attendance on her, but also being quite strict. It was a powerful mix that she found entirely impossible to resist. He was the ultimate caretaker – and he already knew her better than anyone else ever had or probably ever would.

  Kyah had never felt so completely taken care of. Riker made sure that she didn't have to think about anything, although he also watched over her very carefully to make sure that she did exactly as he asked her to, each and every time. There would be no skating by, making half efforts with him. None of her other Doms had really checked up on whether she'd not just obeyed them, but made her best effort in doing so.

  Although he was always loving and supportive, Riker also didn't let her get away with even that tiny a thing, calling her on it every time she tried to get away with half-assing something. Even though it was hardly rocket science and certainly nothing taxing, like cleaning up the kitchen after he'd brought them dinner, or making the bed in the morning, finding herself getting punished for the easy stuff that she should have known better than to think he wouldn't notice.

  And she'd thought he'd spanked her while he'd made love to her – was she wrong! Her bottom was sore – and she meant sore – the entire rest of the weekend. The fact that he'd just spanked her did not prevent him from doing so again. In fact, the second one was just that much worse. Not only because it was still tender from the first one, but because he made certain that, if she made him have to get after her like this and warm her little fanny for being naughty again, he made sure she would regret it and not want him to have to reach for her a third time.

  No wonder he'd declared that Aidan had been too soft on her!

  But Riker was more than smart enough and careful enough of her that he knew he needed to find that delicate balance between punishments and rewards, so that she never felt as if he was constantly disciplining her and she never experienced any of the benefits of being his sub.

  Except for the small chores he gave her occasionally and deliberately, to see how she'd react to being expected to do them as well as how well she accomplished them, he made it clear to her that – beyond obeying him – he expected her to take the weekend off, and he put his foot down about her going to work.

  She surprised him, though, by agreeing that she didn't want to go. Kyah did not want to face all of the questions her lack of a ring was inevitably going to cause, so taking Friday off – which was no problem with her boss because she never called in – was fine with her.

  And it gave her more time with Riker, who was rapidly replacing Aidan – who was a very poor second to him – such that she spent much less time mourning the demise of her relationship with her fiancé and much more time hoping that what she had with Riker could stand the test of time.

  She could certainly get used to the way he spoiled and doted on her and even his more controlling ways.

  And, if she was honest with herself – which she didn't necessarily want to be – she even liked the spankings. Perhaps not when she was receiving them, but she certainly lapped up the aftercare he never failed to give her, holding and cuddling her, reminding her that he loved her enough that he would always take the time to correct her, sooth and pet and – occasionally – pleasure.

  Having a truly sore, hot bottom, such as she'd never had before, added a surprisingly strong element to her pleasure, kind of like the combination of salt and sweet in salted caramel. Those two opposite ends of the spectrum caused a cataclysm within her, every time he cared to create it – effortlessly – within her.

  Sunday night, he tanned her hide good, not because she had been naughty, but because he was her Dom, and he wanted to do it. She cried and begged him not to use her own hairbrush on a rear end his hand had already painfully reddened, several times, that day. But he ignored her, every yelp and cry she made making his cock bob demandingly against him.

  When he was through, he put the hairbrush back where it belonged while she lay where he ha
d put her, over the end of the bed, crying pitiful, real tears, sobbing, and he'd even begun to feel a little bad for her. That was, until he pried her legs apart and began to wedge his cock up inside her, and he found his way eased by the considerable amount of lubrication her body had produced while he had been punishing her.

  From that moment on, he vowed that he would never let her cries of distress deter him from giving her exactly what he thought she needed.

  And he was of a mind that she needed both strict discipline and roughly passionate fucking on a very frequent basis.

  And when he allowed her – forced her – to cum for him a few minutes later, as he held her throat in his right hand while he pounded himself into her, against the butt cheeks he could feel the heat of radiating against him. His other hand manipulating her clit in a manner that showed he'd already made quite a study of just what got her off in the most primal of ways, he growled, "You'll always cum hardest when I've just singed your behind. It's the best thing for you. Your bottom should always be hot to the touch and make you think seriously, about whether or not you want to sit down. Now that you're mine, I'm going to do my best to keep it that way. I want you to feel you'd rather stand as you talk to your students rather than sitting on your red, stinging ass."

  It was the first time – of many more to follow – that she fainted in his arms, causing him a momentary panic before he patted her cheeks and she came around, but only after knocking a decade or so off his life.

  The next morning, he was up before she was, awakening her before her alarm by slipping into her and fucking and spanking her at the same time, whispering into her ear at just the right time, "I want to think about you sitting gingerly all day," as she screamed her pleasure uncontrollably.

  While she showered, he made her a healthy breakfast of plain yogurt, mixed with chopped pecans and almonds and a small amount of macerated berries, and an egg on a slice of whole grain toast.

  "You're going to spoil me," she sighed, digging in.

  But then he took the fork out of her hand, and she found herself perched on his lap. He'd fed her all weekend – and she had enjoyed the simple caretaking ritual more than she wanted to admit – and he wasn't eager to give up the tradition. "You should be spoiled, baby cakes. You should always feel spoiled and punished in the same breath."

  Obediently opening up for a mouthful of yummy yogurt, she wheedled, "You could forget about the discipline part and just spoil me, you know."

  Riker tilted her chin up, gazing down at her with blatant, raw love in his eyes "I can only love you completely – I don't know any other way to do it. And that includes correcting you when I think you've been naughty. You will always be punished so that you know I love you enough to do that for you, because neglecting that need in you would be doing you a grave disservice, and I would be ashamed of myself for letting you down."

  Kyah blushed – as always with him, it seemed – in the face of such naked, powerful emotion.

  "That's also why I will never go easy on you, in regards to a punishment, no matter how hard you kick or scream or cry. I expect that you'll do those things. That just means that it's working."

  "Riker!" She thought her face was going to sizzle away like water on a hot skillet; she was blushing so hard at his words.

  "What? I'm just telling you the truth."

  He drove her to work – over her lame objections – something about there being gossip about the fact that she was supposed to be engaged to one man and yet another man was bringing her to work, but he convinced her to stop worrying so much about what other people talked or thought about her.

  "The only person whose opinion of your behavior that you have to worry about is me," he said firmly, giving her an all too passionate kiss good bye, then getting out of the car to help her out of it, handing her, first, her purse and, then, her book bag from the back of his small sports car. "Damn, woman, this thing is heavy! You could lift weights with it – I could lift weights with it! It's a wonder you don't lean to one side, punkin'."

  Embarrassed again, both by his surprise at the weight of her bag and his use of that diminutive endearment, sounding uncomfortably like a Daddy with his little girl.

  "Have a good day! Eat all of your lunch. I'll know if you don't," he warned.

  She didn't know how he would, but Kyah didn't question in the least that he would know.

  Ri had packed her a healthy lunch – turkey with Swiss with red onion, green pepper, black olives and light mayo, on the same whole grained bread from breakfast, along with an apple and two of her treasured mega-stuffed Oreos, which he'd already told her she shouldn't expect to see much of anymore, except as a treat. He intended that she would eat as healthily as possible. But that was okay with her because she didn't keep them around herself, either.

  She didn't know when he'd found the time to write it and slip it into her lunch bag, but she also found a small note from him that read, "You are a treasure. My treasure." He'd underlined the word "my" several times. "Have a good lunch and a good rest of the day. I'll be spending my long, lonely one thinking of you cumming and fainting in my arms at the same time. My life has been made – by you. Love, your Riker."

  Love. He'd said he loved her – freely – several times this past weekend. It kept coming out of him, as if he had kept it bottled up within him for too long and he could no longer contain it – just like his ever-present desire for her.

  But she had yet to say it back to him; at least, not in the way she knew he wanted her to.

  And, as amazing as the weekend had been, she wasn't at all sure she should.

  Chapter Five

  But Riker was having no such reservations, whatsoever. He finally had everything he wanted in life, in her – and if he lost all the rest of it, he'd still be fine, because she would be there with him. His life was complete – well, except that he wanted her as his wife, but he was already working on that.

  He knew she had reservations of some sort. It was glaringly apparent when she hadn't said, "I love you," back to him – not in that way, anyway. It wasn't as if she'd never said it – she – they – had, frequently. As soon as she lost her stepfather, they said it to each other, pretty much every day. There was nothing like the death of a loved one to make you get very real, very quickly.

  But this weekend, he'd been saying it with an entirely different flavor, a different connotation, a deeper one than ever before, and he understood that she wasn't quite there with him yet. She was in the middle of a break up. Not necessarily his best move, timing wise, but he'd struck while the iron was hot.

  And he was always hot for her.

  Now, he knew that, as much as she might fight against it – for whatever reason – she was pretty much that way with him, too. There hadn't been a time in the entire almost three and a half days they'd spent together that he'd reached for her, or flipped her over on his lap from where he'd been blistering her behind, that she wasn't gushingly wet for him.

  Just thinking about it got him inappropriately hard in the middle of a very boring quarterly sales meeting.

  He didn't know exactly what she envisioned, if anything, for them now that, what he'd gotten clues she thought of was a lost weekend was over with, but he thought she was probably in for a rude awakening, because he wasn't just going to disappear and go back to being her platonic best friend. There was no going back from this. He didn't want to, and he knew that, deep down, neither did she.

  He'd rearranged his schedule – for the foreseeable future – so that he could drop her off and pick her up from school each day. Aidan had owned the only car in their relationship and had rightfully taken it with him when he'd gone.

  This was an advantage to Riker, as she was somewhat dependant on him to get to and from work. Who else was going to show up without her asking?

  But when he got there, she never came out of the school. When he asked one of the adults, who was standing around, and who seemed to be connected to the school, he was told that she had gotten
a ride with Ms. Canary, a kindergarten teacher, with whom she was particularly close.

  As much as it ran through his head that he could easily pop over to her place, or Ellen Canary's house, for that matter, since he knew her, too, and his every impulse was to overwhelm her with his attentions, he decided against that. He didn't want to seem like a stalker or to come on so strong that he drove her away.

  He hadn't told her he was going to pick her up – he'd just kind of assumed it – and he hadn't wanted to push her about the future when she was still grieving for a past relationship, so they hadn't had a serious discussion about where they would go after Sunday.

  Reluctantly, he headed back and buried his nose in his work, hoping he could lose himself in it as he always did. Instead, he just spent the time wishing he could bury and lose himself in her.

  He managed to hold off until that evening, when he would have preferred to be with her, but he'd just gotten home after a long afternoon and evening of mentally exhausting meetings with overseas clients, conducted in a stuffy boardroom with four other people, who didn't want to be there, either.

  After a quick shower and dinner, Riker sat in his favorite chair and reached for his phone.

  How does your bottom feel?

  The sound of a Star Trek: The Next Generation chime alerted her that she had gotten a text from him as she sat in her own easy chair. She couldn't quite bring herself to lie on the couch, where he had taken her so many times and in so many different ways.

  She read it, shooting back with, You'll be horrified to know that it's absolutely fine. :p

  Well, obviously I, too, have been entirely too easy on you. You seem to inspire it, apparently. But sterner measures appear to be required. Your bum should, at least, still be tingling.

  Not hardly! she texted back quickly. I shudder to think what that would feel like!