by Amy Valenti
He laughed. “Trust me, if this was heaven there’d be more chocolate than this.”
“Good point.”
I bit into the chocolate-and-caramel goodness and savoured the taste and the sugar rush, while Marc held me and stroked my hair. It was only a small bar, but it was enough to bring me around.
Marc eased me off his lap, and I winced at the soreness of my bruised buttocks, rolling onto my stomach on the bed. “I’m not going to be able to sit down for a week, am I?”
“Not comfortably.” Marc pulled something out of the nightstand and returned to my side. Squeezing ointment out of the tube, he examined my ass. “But you have some gorgeous stripes for now.”
As best I could, I twisted my upper body to get a look at the affected area. It wasn’t easy, but I glimpsed the top couple of straight, horizontal red welts, with a deep flush of purple beginning to emerge beneath them. “Wow. I’ve never seen anything like this.”
Marc smoothed cooling ointment over the skin, and I winced at the pressure before the heat receded a little. Sighing, I lay horizontal and let him take care of me. “That feels amazing. Thank you so much.”
We spent a few minutes in companionable silence as he finished with the ointment, then used a wet wipe to clean the excess from his hands. Then he slid his fingers between my ass cheeks to tap the end of the plug. “Get on your hands and knees, Nell. We need to take this out.”
I obeyed slowly, shivering slightly as the plug made its presence known. I’d almost forgotten about it until now.
“On second thoughts…” Marc rolled me onto my side and stretched out beside me, pulling me close. He kissed me, then teased my lips open with his tongue. I fell into the kiss, the urgency I’d felt when he’d rubbed the cane against my clit returning.
Marc ground his growing erection against my pussy, and with a moan I tilted my hips, pressing my swollen clit against the hardness beneath the leather. The combination was too erotic for words.
“I’m going to fuck you while you’re still wearing that plug.”
I writhed against him, impossibly turned on by the idea, and he dipped his head to take one of my nipples in his mouth, sucking hard, then flicking the hardened nub with his devious tongue. While he transferred his attention to the other breast, I ran my hands through his dark hair and pulled his head closer.
After teasing and tormenting, pinching and stroking my nipples until I panted, he returned to my lips for a brief, hard kiss. “God, you looked fantastic locked into the stocks, wearing a blindfold and waiting for whatever I chose to do to you. I nearly gave up on the cane and took you right there.”
Another zing of pleasure travelling down my spine, straight to my clit, I began to unbutton his pants. He groaned as I pulled down the zipper, freeing his hard cock—he hadn’t bothered to put on underwear before donning the leathers.
“Permission to give you that blow job I promised earlier, Sir?” I whispered against his lips.
With a hungry grin, he grabbed my head and guided me down, an order I was more than happy to comply with. After tugging off his pants and casting them aside, I took his cock into my mouth and ran my tongue up and down the vein on the underside. Marc cursed softly and entangled his fingers in my hair, guiding me up and down his shaft while I sucked and licked. Gratified when he grew even harder against my tongue, I moaned and took him as deep as I could.
“Fuck, Nell…” His thighs tensed on either side of me when I cupped his balls, squeezing just slightly. I flattened my tongue against the spot just beneath the rim of his cockhead, and he sat up abruptly, pulling me up too, almost before I could process what was happening.
“I need to be in you right now.” He kissed me savagely as he guided me to straddle his lap. His cock pulsed against my hot, needy pussy, and he groaned, palming his shaft to hold it ready for me. “Now, Eleanor.”
I sank down immediately and cried out at the sensation of him pressing inside me, seeming thicker than usual because of the added pressure of the butt plug filling me.
“Oh, my god…” It was almost a sob, but I couldn’t help it as I took him in all the way to the base of his cock. “So full…”
Marc cupped my face in both hands and kissed me breathlessly, shakily. “You feel so tight around me. Fuck…”
Tentatively, I rose up again and sighed at the delicious friction. “Mmmm…”
Marc gripped my hips and pulled me down again, exhaling hard against my throat. “More.”
I was in complete agreement with that, and sped up, rising and falling on his cock, almost at the edge within a minute as he cupped my breasts and nipped each hard peak hard enough to hurt. The frustration of not being able to get off was intense, and I took him harder, whispering obscenities as each thrust shifted the plug in my ass and stimulated my G-spot.
Marc pressed down hard on my clit, and I practically screamed my release, jerking in his arms as I came harder than I ever had, my ass clenching around the plug as my pussy squeezed his cock. Marc dug his fingers into my back as he bucked up into me, taking his own pleasure with a low growl.
Boneless, we fell back against the mattress, breathing hard. I quivered with aftershocks that felt like mini-climaxes in the wake of my orgasm, bliss suffusing me. With a slightly unsteady hand, Marc pulled the plug from my ass and I came again in fast, clenching waves of pleasure.
There was only one thing I could say.
“Holy fuck…”
Chapter Six
A while later, when we’d both calmed down and roused ourselves from our post-coital daze, Marc kissed my forehead.
“Time to take the collar off, Nell.”
To my utter mortification, a lump grew in my throat. Shifting so that my back was to him, I closed my eyes against a sudden, inexplicable wave of emotion, tears pricking my eyelids. Instead of speaking, I held my hair out of the way so he could reach the collar’s buckle.
Marc unfastened it swiftly, and the collar fell away in his hands. I let my hair fall, but couldn’t bring myself to turn back towards him.
“Nell.” He shifted closer, up against my back, and slid his arms around my waist, holding tightly.
I swallowed a sob, but the undignified squeak that made was unmistakeable. If he hadn’t known before that I was trying not to cry, he did now. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Marc pulled me into his lap and stroked my hair away from my face. “You’re coming down from the endorphin rush. Nothing to be ashamed of. Cry if you need to.”
I didn’t know how else to deal with the lead weight in my chest and the ache in my head, so I did as he recommended—I clung to him and cried, feeling ridiculous and pathetic and confused and heartbreakingly sad all at once. It made absolutely no sense, but his taking away the collar had led to a total meltdown on my part. All the worries I’d been suppressing came to the fore and I sobbed, unable to help it.
When I’d finally composed myself, I pulled away from him, burying my face in my hands. “I’m a mess. Can I go freshen up?”
Marc left the bed only to pull a robe from the closet nearby. He pulled me to my feet, then wrapped the black, fluffy material around my shoulders and drew me close again, which was incredibly comforting. I burrowed deeper into his embrace, and he allowed it for a couple of minutes before drawing back. “Come on. This way.”
To my confusion—there was a bathroom just off the dungeon—he led me out of the room, without bothering to conceal his own nudity first, and to a door closer to the staircase. When I stepped past it, I guessed this was Marc’s bedroom from the simple, uncluttered design of it. Nothing was elaborate, but everything was exquisitely made.
“The bathroom’s through that door,” he told me, indicating a doorway on the other side of the room. “There’s a spare toothbrush in the cabinet, and if you want to shower, just choose a towel. They’re all clean.”
I nodded and stepped out of his one-armed embrace, sighing with relief once I’d closed the doo
r behind me. I needed to be alone. I needed to think.
No. I needed to go back to him. I needed him to hold me.
I didn’t know what I needed.
My reflection in the mirror was panda-eyed and blotchy. I winced, tugging at my tangled hair, and prayed I hadn’t looked like this during our scene.
A shower sounded pretty good, and would give me some time to think. I’d locked the door, so I knew Marc wouldn’t try to hop in with me. Not that that would have been a bad thing…
With hot water rinsing away my tears and makeup, I began to think more clearly. What Marc had said made sense. I’d been high on endorphins, and now I was crashing. Come to think of it, I remembered Marie, my college friend who’d been into BDSM, mentioning she’d had similar reactions at times. What had she called it…? Sub-drop?
I took a deep breath and let it go again, turning my face up to the shower spray. It’ll pass. And Marc doesn’t seem freaked out.
Because he’s had other submissives before you, my brain reminded me helpfully. Maybe even the blonde. Maybe she’s still his submissive, and you’re his second lay today.
“Get a grip,” I mumbled to myself, and reached for the shampoo.
Everything smelled like Marc, which probably contributed to my calmer mindset. It was comforting to be surrounded by his scent, because oh, my god—up until I’d ruined it by falling apart, it had been the most amazing night ever. Just the thought of him made me ache to be in his arms or at his feet—not just a sexual ache, but an emotional one, too.
Speaking of aches… Once I’d finished my shower I rubbed the steam from the mirror and turned my back to it, looking over my shoulder to try to get a better glimpse of the lower curves of my ass and the backs of my thighs. Despite my turmoil, the sight of the red welts and purplish stripes on my rear made me grin. They would be a reminder of the night for a few days to come—physical manifestations of what Marc and I had shared—and I loved them despite my mental turmoil about the man.
As I towelled myself dry, used the comb on the bathroom counter to get rid of the snags in my hair and brushed my teeth, I wondered how I should act when I emerged from the bathroom. How would he act? Would he still want me around when I was such a mess? Maybe he’d even drive me home instead of letting me stay over.
I left the towel in the bathroom, wrapping the fluffy black robe around me securely before taking a deep breath and heading for the bedroom.
Marc had used another bathroom to freshen up, it seemed—he was wearing a pair of sweatpants and nothing else, his hair slightly damp. He put aside a book and got up from the bed, smiling the way he did when he wasn’t wearing his Dom persona. “How are the bruises looking?”
Relaxing—it seemed as if nothing was awkward between us—I turned my back and took off the robe. Marc ran his hand lightly over my skin, and I shivered with pleasure. God, how could I want more after everything that had already happened?
“Need more ointment on these, beautiful?” he asked softly.
I shook my head, smiling, and tried to reposition the robe. Marc took it from me and pulled me into his arms instead.
I tried to gather normality around me. “Is there a dryer anywhere in this crazy-expensive house, or do I go for a walk to let my hair dry before I even think about letting my head touch a pillow?”
Marc’s eyes gleamed with an almost sadistic mischief. “Depends. What were you planning to wear on this theoretical walk? I’m wondering if we should just put the collar back on you and take you for a moonlight stroll like this. Let your bruises get some fresh air. What do you think?”
“I think getting arrested doesn’t seem like a fun way to end the night,” I said, though I couldn’t deny the mental image would make a hot fantasy. The reality, though… That would be more potential humiliation than I could stomach.
Marc laughed, opening the bedroom door. “There’s a dryer in the guest bathroom. Three doors along to the right.”
After retrieving the robe again, despite his reassurances that I wouldn’t run into any of his housemates in the hallway at this hour of the night, I went to the guest bathroom and blow-dried my hair in record time, the warm air comforting me even more.
On my return to Marc’s room, I found him already under the covers, hands behind his head, gazing up at the ceiling with a slight frown on his face. I paused in the doorway and watched him, wondering what was on his mind. I could tell he wasn’t the aloof, borderline-dismissive Dom he could be at that moment. No, it was the guy who’d relaxed and confessed his love for cooking and horror movies there right now.
When he noticed me standing there, he beckoned. I shut the door behind me and crossed the room to him, shrugging out of the robe before slipping into bed beside him.
Marc folded his arms around me and pulled me closer, and I registered immediately that he was still wearing his sweatpants, whereas I was naked. Was he trying to dissuade me from any more sexual activity? Maybe my crying had been a huge turn-off.
“Stop thinking,” he said softly, and I realised I’d tensed up in his arms.
Swallowing back the urge to cry again, I tried to do as he’d asked, but it wasn’t happening. Marc sighed and began to stroke my hair. “You’ve never dropped this badly before, Nell. Did I push you too hard?”
Unable to speak without my voice cracking, I just shrugged.
“We need to talk about this so we can try to avoid it happening again. Please answer me, Nell.”
When he’d asked so nicely, with so much concern in his voice, how could I refuse?
“You didn’t push me too hard. It was intense, but it didn’t feel bad at the time.” I sounded forlorn and broken to my own ears, and I didn’t like it.
His light, rhythmic stroking of my hair didn’t falter. “Is something else on your mind?”
The blonde woman’s face flashed into my mind. I shoved the image away. “No.”
Marc drew back, trying to get a good look at me, and childishly I sat up, hugging my knees to my chest. I knew I was acting like a spoilt toddler in the face of his concern, but it felt like my only defence.
He touched my shoulder, but let his hand fall away when I only tensed up more. “It’s pretty clear you’re hurting right now. It’s my responsibility to take care of you when you’re like this. I can’t make you accept aftercare, but I’m not gonna give up without trying. Not when it’s obvious that something I’ve said or done is getting to you.”
Tears trickled down my cheeks, but I locked my sobs within my chest, breathing shallowly. Why did he have to be so reasonable? So caring? If he’d just act like a monster, I’d have somewhere to direct my anger and hurt, but he wouldn’t even lose his temper, damn him.
Marc sighed. “Nell, if you can’t level with me, I can’t dominate you.”
For a second, disbelief surged through me. I wanted to get mad, but I knew he was right. My shoulders slumped as I nodded. “I understand.”
I sensed his hesitation, but then he moved to sit behind me. While I battled the maelstrom of confusion, love and distress raging through my body, he slipped his arms around my waist and rested his forehead on my shoulder, simply waiting.
Say something.
Not knowing where to start, I took a round-about approach. “How come this is the first time I’ve seen your bedroom?”
Marc didn’t raise his head, though I sensed he was trying to contextualise the topic of conversation. “Because we always end up in the dungeon, and the bed there is closer.”
It made sense. I could hardly argue with that.
“When I came over… I saw her leaving as I arrived. Has she seen your bedroom?” Almost as soon as I’d said the words, I regretted them. Vocalising my jealousy made me realise how insecure I sounded.
Marc pulled back. Was he surprised, offended, pissed off? I wished I could tell, but I didn’t dare look at him.
“Nell.” When I kept my head bowed, he took matters into his own hands. I cried out with surprise when he dragged my legs aroun
d, spinning me so I was facing him.
He cupped my face in both hands. “Look at me.”
I reluctantly raised my gaze to meet his worried, hurt expression, and my heart skipped. Even before he spoke, I knew I’d jumped to the wrong conclusion.
“Are you talking about Serena?” Met with my blank expression, he continued, “Blonde, tall. Drives a blue Prius.” Seeing the recognition in my face, he gave a small, humourless smile. “She’s my sister, Nell.”
“Oh.” It was all I could think of to say. Relief flooded through me, but then subsided in an instant as a memory struck. “But your dad called you his only child. On Monday, when he—”
“He disowned her.” Marc got up from the bed, and terror struck me. Was he about to throw my clothes at me and order me to get out of his house? I wouldn’t blame him.
He drew a photo album from a shelf and returned to the bed, flipping through the pages as he sat down. Having found what he was searching for, he handed the album to me. “There. That’s us, back when we were teenagers.”
I studied the picture he’d pointed to. Marc was easy to recognise, though his hair was almost military short, his features more youthful. He was standing beside Elliot Cassidy, his father, who still looked unapproachable even when in a relaxed setting.
On the other side of him was a teenage girl in cut-off denim shorts, almost a head taller than Marc and probably a few years older. Despite her dark hair, I recognised Serena immediately. She must not be a natural blonde.
Next to her, a woman who was clearly Marc and Serena’s mother completed the family portrait. Marc resembled his father and his mother in different ways, while Serena was almost a carbon copy of her mother.
I looked up at Marc and whispered, “I’m so sorry. I should have trusted you.”
Pushing the photo album aside, he gathered me into his arms and sighed, the tension in his shoulders lessening as I clung to him. “You’re the only one, Nell. I swear to you.”
Blinking away more tears—wow, if this is sub-drop, it really sucks—I held on tightly. “I don’t know why I got so insecure about her. I guess I just don’t want to lose you.”