by Fowler, Teri
“I panicked, that's all. Ow!” Jimmy yelped when Michael barely grasped his wrist, and he knew this was gonna be one of those days. “Did you see that?” Jimmy yelled to the crowd of onlookers. “Police brutality. He's breaking my fucking arm! Help me. Help!”
“Give it a rest, son.” Michael grabbed his other arm and cuffed him. “You've picked a bad day to mess with me. I'm not in the mood for this, so shut your mouth and stop swearing before I add a Section 5 Public Order Offence to your shoplifting charge.”
Jimmy continued to protest, accusing Michael of being a racist and targeting him because he was black. That touched a nerve, and he was grateful when the car showed up and he could offload Jimmy to someone else before he did something he'd regret.
Michael had suffered racial abuse, too—from the black community as well as the white one. Interracial couples were still a rarity in his town, especially back when he and Liv had first fallen in love. Even one of his former best friends had questioned their relationship, asking him if he was seeing Liv because he had a kink for black women. Michael had hit him, not something he was proud of now, but something he had done without hesitation or regret at the time.
Olivia's family had given her a hard time, too, at first, and weren't too subtle in letting them both know that they wanted her to meet a nice West Indian boy from a good family. But once they'd seen the genuine affection between him and Liv, and how deeply he'd loved and respected her, they accepted him. The same couldn't be said for his family, and his relationship with his father had never truly recovered, especially when Michael Williams Senior had vocalized his relief at hearing that “the black girl” was no longer part of his son's life.
A few hours later, with Jimmy safely contained in a police cell at the station ready for court in the morning, Michael clocked out at the end of his shift and changed out of his uniform. He stared at it for a moment after he'd hung it up, then tore it off the hanger and shoved it along with his helmet into a rucksack he kept at the bottom of his locker. His boss would go mental if he knew what Michael planned to do while wearing it later, but as long as he didn't parade around in public with it on, nobody would ever know. He sensed that Liv liked to see him wearing it and, tonight, whatever Liv wanted, she was gonna get ... along with some stuff she had no idea she wanted yet.
The drive home was uneventful, although that did nothing to calm his nerves. His apartment in a converted warehouse overlooked the river, and the exposed pipe work and bare brick walls suited his lifestyle. He never had anybody around to visit so didn't need much more than the massive aniline leather sofa adorning the wall facing the floor to ceiling windows and his state-of-the-art television and stereo. The sleek white kitchen containing every built-in appliance he could ever need got used only to wash up the one plate and fork he used every night to eat whatever his chosen takeaway was that day.
Michael went straight to the locked cabinet he kept hidden behind his shoe rack in the bottom of his wardrobe. He took out every bit of equipment he had—gag balls, clamps, ropes, butt plugs, vibes, masks, whips and paddles—and laid them on the bed. Should I take one or two of the plugs and maybe the paddle? He picked up the paddle, his favorite tool, and turned it over and over in his hand, warming the leather with his palm, but then he threw it all back in the bag and slammed the cabinet closed. God knows what Liv would think if he turned up with this stuff. Besides, improvising with whatever was at hand was Michael's favorite way to play. But the subs he'd met in the past had expected him to have some standard equipment and didn't seem interested in experimenting, which is why he didn't much care for the scene. He'd never trained his own sub, and the women he had met in specialist clubs were focused solely on finding a Dom who'd do the things they craved. They used him the same way he used them—to find the kind of acceptance and release they couldn't get anywhere else—and it had been many years since he'd cared enough to experiment with anyone.
No, he and Liv would discover together what worked for them, and he'd follow her lead for a while to see where her boundaries were before pushing her to try more.
Later, as he stood in the shower and let the water pound the back of his neck, Michael watched his cock grow hard just at the thought of her. The power she had over his body scared him. Always had. Wanting her so badly brought urges to the fore that he hadn't known he had. His fantasies back then had consisted of forcing her to her knees and making her beg to suck his cock, or watching her squirm against the ropes he wanted to tie her up with as he played with her body. And even worse than that, in his fantasies, Liv wanted him to do those things to her. The shy, God-fearing girl he'd fallen in love with just couldn't have the same fucked up urges as he did, could she? There was just no way Liv wanted the same animalistic sex he did.
They made out less and less often when Michael had trouble separating his urges from his actions. Not that he'd ever gone any further than holding her wrists above her head and pinning her beneath him. Liv had fought against him, giggling loudly and screaming in mock protest, totally unaware that Michael's cock was painfully hard and threatening to bust out of his jeans as he imagined keeping her trapped beneath him while he tore the clothes from her pert little body and fucked her senseless.
It confused and terrified him to know that he wanted to do such seemingly violent things to the tiny woman he would gladly die to protect. Michael didn't know what he was back then, and there was just no-one around to ask. He'd been one of the last of his friends and family to take advantage of the Internet for the endless source of information it was. By the time he'd spent months working his way through the sleazy stories and porn videos that seemed to talk about people like him, he felt even more like a perverted freak who had no business even putting his hands on someone as special as Olivia. Years later, he came to understand who and what he was, thanks to a woman he’d met at the BDSM club it had taken him six months to get up the nerve to visit. But by that time, his relationship was history, and Liv had moved away from the city they shared.
Now, she was back. And for some insane reason, she still seemed to want him. Michael didn't know whether to thank his lucky stars or curse fate for putting him in this position again. He dared not hope that she might still love him, but at least she didn't seem to hero worship him anymore. Part of the reason he'd never been able to show her what he needed was because he couldn't bear to lose the respect she had for him.
He soaped up his hands, taking far longer than he needed to. Michael knew the minute he touched his body, there was only going to be one outcome. Wanking over the image of Liv, especially in that cheeky little tutu she'd had on last night, wasn't the problem. It was the feelings associated with the act that scared him. Michael had lost count of how many times he'd shouted out his love for her as he came all over his hand, the wall ... anything that was nearby in fact. The orgasms brought on by fantasizing about Liv were powerful but painful. The loss of her ate away at him, and he had a hunger for her that had never eased. Masturbating over the thought of her was as close as he thought he would ever get to making love to her, and it tore his heart out each time he did it.
He scrubbed at his chest, shoulders, arms and thighs, delaying the moment until he touched the erection that had become almost painful. Sounds from the TV filtered into the room, and he heard the music signaling the start of the regular evening news bulletin he liked to watch and knew he had to finish up if he wanted to be with Liv on time. Michael grit his teeth and grabbed his dick.
It wasn't too bad while he had his cock pressed up against his abdomen as he washed his balls, but when he pulled the foreskin on his penis back to clean underneath, his knees buckled. The urge to close his fist around the swollen head of his dick was one he was powerless to resist, and his groans echoed off the tiled walls as his hand moved almost of its own will.
A jumble of images raced through Michael's mind as his cock throbbed and grew in his hand. Liv in that silly outfit. The sight of Liv's pert backside when her tutu rode up as she scr
ambled on top of the police car. Liv standing half naked in her room with his helmet perched on her pretty head, begging him to fuck her. That was the image that sent him over the edge.
But when he conjured up the fantasy of how she would look with his cock in her mouth, her gaze locked with his as her lush lips slid up and down his rigid shaft, Michael dropped to his knees. Hot, hard pulses of cum splashed onto the tile, and he turned his face to bite down on the arm still braced against the wall, muffling the savage groans tearing from his throat.
****
Across town less than an hour later, Olivia could be found her sitting on the edge of the bed, her heart pounding so hard she couldn't be sure whether she could hear Michael's footsteps in the hall or not. She'd tried to do as he asked ... she really had ... but without the comforting blanket of drunkenness around her, last night's sexy bravado had fled, taking her confidence with it.
Her first thought when she'd opened her eyes earlier that morning had been about Michael. Her second had been about her friends. Olivia had dived for her phone to call Stella and find out what had happened. Had Karen and Stella spent the entire night locked up in a police cell?
To her utter relief, a whole page of text messages had greeted her when she flipped open her smart phone. They'd both been released without charge after a severe telling off from the sergeant, which had made Karen cry so hard the police taken pity on the pair and driven them home.
Work had been a mess. Her mind had been on Michael. Or rather, on various bits of Michael ... like his lips, his hands, his voice. Those handcuffs. She'd spent most of the day away from her desk, hiding in the loo. But not just hiding. She'd been following his instructions to the letter. She hadn't allowed herself to come though, and he wouldn't need to take her word for it either. Olivia's clitoris was engorged, hyper-sensitive, and primed to explode if Michael so much as looked at it.
Olivia clutched at the neck of the robe as the door creaked open, and she surged to her feet. Now, with soft lamplight illuminating his face, and her contact lenses in, there was no way to escape his gaze besides closing her eyes. She struggled against the urge to do just that as she trembled under his intense stare.
Besides, if she closed her eyes, then she couldn't enjoy the sight of him filling her doorway, his large, strong frame made even more imposing by the police uniform he'd had the good sense to keep on when he'd finished work earlier. The period decor in her bedroom, with its floral wallpaper and chintzy fabrics adorning most of the soft furnishings, conspired to make his dark bulk seem out of place and almost otherworldly. The helmet cast his brow into shadow, the peaked front helping to intensify the power of his gaze. Warm weather had allowed him to wear a short sleeved shirt, strained to almost breaking point by his biceps. His stab vest curved over his shoulders, adding a bulk to his chest that wasn't needed but made him look totally imposing. His uniform trousers barely contained his powerful thighs, and Olivia wondered if he had to have them specially made with extra width in the leg. They fit too well to be standard issue, that was for damned sure. Michael had always been proud of his strength and size and wasn't shy about showing it off.
“I'm disappointed, Liv. This is not what we agreed.”
“I'm sorry.”
Michael shoved his hands through the gaps at the edge of his stab vest, a gesture he no doubt did a hundred times a day. “I thought you said you could handle this?”
“I ... I can.”
He shrugged and looked towards the door, as if preparing to leave again. “As I said, you're a good girl at heart. I should never have asked you to do something you weren't comfortable with.”
“What the fuck do you mean by that?” How dare he treat me like some terrified virgin?
“That's not a criticism, Olivia. You aren't the first to have a problem with it, and you won't be the last.”
Her anger dissipated the instant she realized Michael seemed disappointed in himself, not her. Didn't he know that she would do anything he asked? More than that, she wanted to. But her nerves had gotten the better of her. It wasn't that she didn't trust him. It was just that she no longer looked like she had all those years ago. Her skin was not as firm, her breasts not as pert. Her arse had held up, but she couldn't very well stand with her back to him the whole time, could she?
“I don't have a problem.”
Olivia smiled and turned around before she could read his eyes and see his disbelief. If he didn't believe that she meant what she said and misread her self-consciousness, they'd be standing here all bloody night! She shrugged the robe from her shoulders and tossed it onto the bed. Taking a step towards the dresser, intent on following his instructions, she reached behind her to unhook her bra, which she dropped to the floor then reached down to slide off her knickers.
“Wait.”
Michael's command echoed off the walls although it was no more than a whisper. He crossed the room and spun her into his arms, crushing his lips against hers in a kiss that caught her by surprise and made her lightheaded.
Olivia realized in the part of her mind that was still able to focus on anything but his lips, that he had moved them nearer to the dresser at the edge of the room.
His mouth left hers, and he clasped her shoulders to turn her around, sliding his palms down her biceps and along her forearms to guide her hands onto the dresser as he dropped a kiss on her nape. “You don't know how much this means to me ... how long I've waited to be with you like this.”
Olivia found his gaze in the mirror on the wall above the dresser. “Show me.”
Michael's hands glided over her breasts, his palms barely grazing her nipples. His fingers slid farther down her torso, tracing the shape of her body as they travelled over her heated flesh. She felt the elastic of her knickers tighten and realized as his knuckles dug into her hips that he was wrapping them around his fist. He tore them away and slid the flat of his palm down the crease of her backside, pushing his hand between her legs and nudging them further apart. Olivia spread her thighs, eager for his touch. The second his fingers brushed across the throbbing nub of her clit, her knees gave way.
Michael wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her steady.
“Oh, God, Liv. You've been a dirty girl, haven't you?” He chuckled against her ear. “Just how many times did you masturbate today?”
“I ... I lost count.” She tried to wriggle against his hand, to force him to rub her hard and fast and give her the orgasm she was sure she would die without. Michael tightened his grip on her waist and pushed her into the dresser, stopping her frantic movements. “I didn't let myself come. I swear, I didn't.”
“I know you didn't. Your clit is so swollen ... so plump and moist.” Michael gave it a small tug, and Olivia felt a gush of moisture seep out of her as the walls of her pussy convulsed. “You want to come, don't you?”
“Fuck, yes! Please, Michael. Please make me come...”
“Soon, Liv. You've just got to be good for a little while longer.”
Olivia gave a whimper of frustration and tried to thrust against his fingers, but he held her so tightly that she couldn't move, so she closed her legs and squeezed his hand with the flesh of her thighs. Michael pulled away, and Olivia searched him out in the mirror to see what he was doing. His hand went to a back pocket, and her breath stilled in her throat. When he raised it again, a small, velvet covered set of handcuffs dangled from a fingertip. Olivia's heart lurched with excitement, and she bit her lip to stop herself from doing something as nerdy as actually thanking him for bringing them.
“I can see I'm gonna need a little help to keep you under control. Do you mind?”
She shook her head, still not prepared to risk speaking, and followed his instructions to put her hands behind her back. Michael pressed his weight against her, mimicking the position they'd been in last night when he'd pinned her against the police car. Olivia surrendered one arm easily but made him work for the other, tensing her muscles as he tried to pull it back. His fingers tightened
around her wrist, and she gave in when she feared her arm might break if she didn't.
“It's best to warn you that I like it when you struggle. If you want me to stop doing something, then tell me. If you fight me, I'll take that as a sign you want me to be more forceful with you—which is something I don't have a problem with.”
Olivia turned her face away from the mirror and smiled as she shoved her arse against his hips, knocking him slightly off balance. She held her breath, her heart pounding hard, as she waited to find out how he would react.
Michael slid his hand up her back, through the space between her body and her handcuffed wrists, lifting them as he moved higher and forcing her to lie down on the dresser top. He grabbed a handful of hair and used it to tilt her head to the side so her cheek lay against the cool, hard wood. Michael left her pinned there for a second with the warm night air tickling at her sensitive clit and her breasts dangling beneath her body, quivering in time with her labored breathing as her nipples ached for his touch. She couldn't see him anymore and couldn't move to look at him, so had no choice but to wait and see what he would do next.
The rough fabric of his trousers brushing against the cheeks of her arse told her something was about to happen, and she tensed for his touch. His feet moved between hers and gently kicked at her ankles, forcing her to spread her legs wider. The gentle tap on her engorged clit came without warning. Olivia hadn't known when he would touch her. She cried out his name and begged him to do it again.
He tapped it once more, sending a curious mixture of intense pleasure tinged with the slightest bit of pain tearing through her. She cried out again.
“Don't come until I tell you.”
Olivia squeezed her eyes tight shut and bit her lip, trying to will away the first, hard pulse of an impending orgasm. She didn't want to let him down, but if he touched her again, she'd have no choice.