Only You

by Coleen Singer

  And I'm getting harder than I already was just thinking about it…

  LOL. Of course, you are!

  So I'll pick you up for work tomorrow at six thirty? he typed, mentally cringing at the hour. It had to be love, if he was going to be getting up so early, voluntarily.

  You don't have to do that. I can just ride with Ellen – she's going to the same place and, unlike you, she gets up then normally.

  But I'd miss seeing you – I love seeing you in the morning!

  Liar!

  Okay, okay, you got me. But I do love seeing you later in the morning. You can't blame me for not being quite the early bird you are.

  I wouldn't blame you for anything, anyway.

  Aw, that's sweet. Keep that in mind the next time I reach for a paddle or a wooden spoon or unbuckle my belt while you're bent over the end of the bed…

  No! None of those!

  Oh yes. I already own you – and all of them.

  All Kyah texted back was "…"

  What does that mean? he asked.

  Nothing, really. Just that I'm not much into having leftover implements used on me. Then she quickly added, Not that I'm going to let you use anything on me, anyway, though.

  She wasn't surprised to see his "…" back at her. She knew well and good that she was playing with fire, having said what she just did. It was like waving a red cape in front of a bull.

  But at least he was clear on the other side of town.

  Actually, Riker was feeling quite pleased at the idea that she had objected to the used implements, but not to the statement just before it that he owned her.

  In that case, I will have all my implements replaced by tomorrow, including my belts, not, just so you know, that they've been used on very many people. But it sounds as if I shouldn't wait that long to deal with you, since you seem to have forgotten your place so quickly in thinking that you can tell me what I can and cannot do to you.

  Holy crap, was he going to come over here? She wouldn't put it past him in the least. What was she crazy, taunting him like that?

  No, no, you don't have to do that. I'm going to bed in five minutes or so, and you've got to be tired yourself.

  She should have stuck to her guns. She should have taken a stand.

  But she much preferred being taken in hand.

  In his hand.

  Not that she was going to let him know that.

  I'll never be too tired to see to you, Kyah, my love. If you had said you were sad and crying this evening, I would already be there, holding you and handing you a Kleenex.

  How could she even begin to deal with someone who said things like that to her – and meant them? She had no doubt that if she told him the truth – that she'd spent half of the evening curled up into a ball, sobbing uncontrollably, he would be there practically before she finished the sentence. He would have been out the door at "curled up in a ball".

  Did you enjoy your lunch?

  I appreciate you making it, but, well, it wasn't leftover Chinese…

  It was better for you than leftover Chinese. But you ate it anyway, all of it, didn't you?

  She frowned down at her phone, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being right yet again, damn him.

  So she didn't answer him right way.

  Kyah Elizabeth.

  She could hear him saying her name, clear as if he was standing over her as he had so many times in the past few days, using that censorious voice of his.

  Yes, yes, I ate it, she replied, giving him another raspberry emoticon.

  All of it?

  Except the note.

  LOL. What, you didn't want a little wood fiber with your lunch? Fiber is fiber, you know.

  That was a very sweet note, and I didn't expect it.

  Kyah didn't know what else to say about it, but it ended up that she didn't need to worry about it, anyway.

  I know. I like surprising you, in little and big ways. That was a little way.

  There was a soft knock at her door that startled her out of the little text bubble they had created between themselves. She put him down, wondering if Mr. Cunningham had lost his cat again.

  But when she opened the door, he was standing there, and he didn't wait for her to invite him in, crowding her back into her living room from the tiny foyer as his big presence filled her house again.

  "Riker! What are you doing here?" she asked, for some reason clutching the neck of her robe closed and backing away from him as he advanced towards her, looking intense, but with a smile on his face.

  "And this is a big way of surprising you." He stopped suddenly and so did she, frowning fiercely down at her as his finger crooked beneath her chin and he examined her face closely. "You have been crying."

  In the next second, she found herself enveloped in a bear hug that she could come very close to losing herself in. It felt so good to have him hug her – the man could sell them. He held her so perfectly, keeping her immobile, but making it so that she didn't want to move anyway. Eventually, without even knowing how she got there, she found herself on his lap in her chair, which was not, at all, where she expected to be this evening.

  "I'm so sorry you're sad, sweetie," he crooned soothingly, as he rocked them both just slightly.

  ***

  Damn, she felt so good lying against him like this! He hadn't realized just how much he had ached to hold her until he had her in his arms again. She was wearing some kind of cute all-in-one-pajama thing, like children wear, but sized for adults. Although, hers were definitely child-like, with a pattern of cute, waddling, baby penguins all over them.

  As he held her tight, he rumbled, saying something he hadn't said before, doing his best to concentrate on comforting her rather than critiquing her life choices. "For what it's worth, you made the right decision about Aidan. It just about killed me to know what he was doing to you. He'll never touch or hurt you, in any way, again, I promise."

  Although she knew she shouldn't like it – she was a capable, independent woman who didn't need a man to complete her or fight her battles for her – she had to admit that, deep down, she loved how protective Ri had always been of her. This past weekend seemed to make him even more so, to have amplified it quite considerably. It made her feel all soft and squishy inside, melting away any objections she might have had to his possessiveness, and making her just want to burrow even further into the safe circle of his arms.

  But he was functioning under a false assumption that she wondered whether she should correct. She had been crying earlier this evening, that much was true.

  But it wasn't about Aidan.

  It was about him, and where they were going with this…this thing that she had allowed to sprout up between them, even though she knew it wasn't a good idea.

  Regardless of how amazing it felt to submit herself to him, to have to stretch herself – gladly – to do so to his standards and to be praised by him for doing so, the facts of the situation – as she saw them – hadn't changed.

  She didn't doubt that he loved her.

  But should he love her?

  Should she love him?

  Probably not.

  He was a nine – well, a ten in her book, but trying to be objective – and she was a three on the weekend, but no more than a four, even when she tried.

  He deserved better than that.

  Ky tried to squirm out of his arms, but he held her in place. "Where do you think you're going, little miss?"

  "I want to get down."

  "And I don't want you to. That's all you should need to know to stop trying to fidget your way off my lap, unless you'd like me to give you that spanking I promised, to remind you who you are."

  "No, Riker, no spanking!" she pouted, knowing she shouldn't fall so easily back into being his submissive, but it seemed to be second nature around him, now.

  "Then stop trying to get off my lap, angel."

  Kyah gave up – for the moment – and remained docile, but he could sense that there was so
mething wrong here, somewhere, that didn't have anything to do with the asshole, although she didn't seem to be interested in talking about it.

  So, before she knew it, or could do anything about it, not that she would have succeeded against him, anyway, he shifted her on his lap so that she was straddling his thighs, facing him. He was reaching for and pulling down – ever so slowly – the zipper that drew a white nylon line down the center of her body, not stopping until it was just below her breasts. It was already split open by the size of them, then he pushed the fabric of her pjs off her shoulders so that it rested just above her elbows, rendering her arms largely useless.

  Riker couldn't stop himself from taking a deep breath and simply staring at the wonder of having her so close to him like this, bare breasted, chest heaving noticeably beneath them. He didn't think he'd ever get over it, even that simple demonstration of her submission.

  "Ri – no –" The words flew out of her mouth automatically. He was staring at her so intently that her body was responding to him without consulting her brain – as seemed to be its habit around him. Her breath was quickening, as if she could already feel his hand touching her intimately, her nipples quickly coming to stand – proud, acutely sensitive and tight – at attention beneath his hungry gaze, silently begging him to touch them.

  Then she bit her lip belatedly, having learned the hard way that he did not like her to tell him no.

  But he didn't seem to have noticed her mistake; in fact, he leaned back a bit, giving her a warm, curious look. "What's troubling you, honey, besides the heartache the asshole causes you?" She looked frankly surprised, and he smiled gently. "Don't I always know when you're worrying something over and over in your mind that you probably don't need to?"

  He had always had that uncanny knack – noticing that something troubled her, when no one else did. But how had he guessed that it wasn't her wrecked engagement she was worried about? Was that just a good guess?

  She began to wiggle, nearly succeeding in freeing her arms, until he brought the zipper up a bit, trapping them against her again and ignoring her soft whining about the restriction.

  "Tell me, baby. Maybe I can help," he soothed. "You know I hate to see you worried in any way."

  Ky bit her lip, refusing to look at him.

  "Do you need to be persuaded to talk to me, my love? That can be arranged, as you well know."

  His enormous hands came up to cup her breasts, each thumb and forefinger latching onto a prominent nipple.

  "If I have to guess, you'll have to pay a forfeit, and I can guarantee that you won't like it."

  Her gasp had his swollen cock – that was directly beneath her – spasming behind the relatively flimsy shield of his dress pants, reminding her without words of his strength and power, her mind and body flooding with memories of what he'd done to her with it.

  She did her best to try to tell him. "Riker, I-I…we…" She started again, from scratch, "This weekend…" But nothing else would come out past her own mental shields.

  His fingers tugged playfully at those hardened buds. "Yes, Kyah?" His face was open; she could see no judgment or spite or even anger in his eyes. He was being – what was for him – extremely patient with her.

  She tried again and failed miserably again. "You and I…w-we…can't…w-we shouldn't."

  He did not want to hear those words from her, on several levels. He continued to play with her breasts as he spoke, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around her nipples until she realized with an agonized squeal – as he began to draw his hands away from her body just as subtly – that his grip was quite painful, and getting more so every second.

  Still, he knew exactly what she was trying to say. "You have doubts about whether we should have done what we did this weekend?" he surmised and summarized out loud for her that which she could not seem to get out of her own mouth, knowing that, the more attention he paid to her breasts, the less likely she was going to be able to do so coherently anyway. "You want to treat it like a lost weekend," he murmured. He was still moving his hands away from her and towards him, tugging her nipples with them, taking a firmer and firmer hold of them in order not to let them slip from his fingertips.

  Kyah's head rolled back and forth, her arms restlessly chafing against their confinement, back arched in a way he knew was entirely unconscious, trying to ease the sharp ache he was causing her by offering herself more fully to him, although he knew from the pleading sounds she was making that it wasn't working. "You want to go back to the way we were," he continued, his voice descending into a low, unhappy growl as her moans became shrill yips and he ripped his fingertips from her nipples, like pulling off a band-aid only off an area that was a thousand times more sensitive.

  And he didn't stop there. Collecting the meat of each breast from the base up in each hand, he squeezed and massaged as he forced her flesh upwards, offering himself a taste of the nubs he'd just left off abusing. His mouth travelled avidly back and forth between the twin peaks, using much less of his tongue than he ever had with her and more of the edges of his teeth, razing that delicate, already sensitized, punished flesh, nibbling less than gently while Ky keened pitifully under his attentions.

  But she did not use her safe word.

  As he nipped and bit at her, one hand wandered back to the zipper of her garment, tugging it down to just above her crotch. The same hand reached in to find her tiny, useless panties, pulling on them much as he had her nipples, until they gave, he threw the silky strands onto the carpet and returned to claim the most intimate parts of her, the parts he considered to be the most his. Not bothering with the niceties but clutching her, fully, in that one hand, every bit of her that he could, two fingers slammed into her, his thumb on a button that he had become very closely acquainted with, finding it unerringly and exploiting the knowledge he had acquired so recently to bring her along.

  To bring her that much further, because despite the fact that she was chanting, "No," under her breath and had been pleading with him to stop, she was panting heavily, and when he had shoved his fingers into her, they were immediately drenched in her.

  His other hand left off her breasts and came around to the small of her back to hold her still, which was when he discovered the, sometimes, secret style of this type of pajamas. They had a generous drop seat for convenience, which he immediately lowered, with one powerful motion, so that, although her arms were still trapped in them and her legs were still covered by them, the rest of her – the parts he most wanted to get at – were completely bare and vulnerable to him.

  Riker removed his fingers and set about freeing his practically bursting cock.

  "No, Riker, please…no."

  Pleas and begging that were music to his ears, which had him riding the edge, but still no safe word. He remembered what she had told him over the days they had together, during intimate times when she was at her most unguarded – what he had already surmised about her – that she liked to fight against her fate, that she liked to be made to comply, that she adored being taken roughly.

  And he had been then – and was now – more than willing to fulfill her desires.

  Chapter Six

  He positioned himself right where he wanted to be – jutting up and almost into her, between those beautiful folds – then used her trapped arms to force her down onto him – all the way, to the root of him so that he could feel his balls against her backside.

  Riker snaked his arm around her waist and began to raise and lower her on him, arching his own hips into her so that they came together just that much more forcefully each time.

  Parts of Kyah wanted to rage in protest against what he was doing to her. She knew she should be outraged at him, she should be screaming and crying and fighting him –

  She should use her safe word to stop him.

  But, to her total humiliation, it felt entirely too good to do that. She didn't think she could form a comprehensible word if she wanted to. All that was coming out of her mou
th were mealy-mouthed chants of the word, "no," and guttural groans of pure, unholy pleasure.

  And he knew it.

  He knew her all too well.

  She was trapped atop him, unable – or more harshly, unwilling – to do anything to make him stop, breasts bobbing, nipples throbbing. Then he brought his spare hand up between them to show it to her before he placed it between them. Curling his fingers around the unmistakable evidence of her desire – that diamond hard niblet – soaked as it was already, in her own juices, her body contributing to her own demise, he continued to fuck her hard, those big fingertips surrounding her, tickling her, twisting themselves over her, barely there at first, teasing, then, eventually, claiming her more firmly.

  And that powerful combination of sensations left her completely mindless, with one and only one goal – to get to the climax she knew he could bring to her.

  If he decided to allow it.

  She knew Ri wasn't at all above taking his pleasure of her and leaving her in the lurch. He'd done it several times before, and it was a truly horrible thing – almost a worse punishment that his spankings. And he would keep her hands bound – doing everything for her, to her complete mortification even the more intimate things – so that she physically couldn't alleviate the all consuming ache between her legs. Then he'd forced her to stretch out on top of him, on the couch, on her back, naked, as he'd kept her the entire time, while they watched something she couldn't possibly concentrate on even if she wanted to see it. Especially when his hands made free with her body as if she wasn't shuddering in need of completion beneath them.

  She had her answer sooner than she thought she would.

  "Cum, little girl. Cum for me. Cum on my cock. I want to feel you squeezing yourself around me helplessly." He was losing the power of speech himself, so his last words were ground out and gruff, "I want to hear you. Scream. My. Name."

  And she did, too, as if, in this terribly vulnerable position, he had stripped from her not just her clothes, but several layers of the reserve she had against him, leaving her even more bared to him than just her nakedness, allowing her even less resistance to him than she had usually, innately. His name was ripped violently from the back of her throat on more of a primitive howl of completion than just a mere scream. And she continued to say it as he continued to pound up into her, jerking her down onto him each time, forcing his way into her until he could hold back no longer. He spurted deep within her, holding her down, his hips still snapping up against her, but she had nowhere to go, giving her nothing to do but to helplessly accept the entirety of that which he gave her.