by Paula Cox
Because it was amazing. Better than she could have ever imagined, and she sometimes wondered why she’d bothered to hold off for so many years. Sex was a fantastic stress-reliever, and it had been a huge boost to her confidence to be desired by a man as ridiculously sexy as Nash. Now that she’d started, she hadn’t wanted to stop, and more than once she’d found herself sitting through an entire two-hour lecture and only having notes for the first fifteen minutes, because the rest of the time was dedicated to sex daydreaming. She’d leave wet with anticipation, barely able to contain herself until she saw him again.
Others might think it was a problem, that her reaction to Nash was unhealthy, but she had years of sex to catch up on, and damn it she was going to enjoy herself!
Still, there was a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. Every time they went their separate ways, either after having mind-blowing sex like they’d had tonight, Eliza bent over the armrest of her loveseat for most of it, or after spending an evening cramming for exam season, she found herself wanting more. It wasn’t the sex she wanted more of though. Instead, it was the closeness. Tonight, they’d planned to watch an episode of some crime show on TV before he left, using the forty minutes plus commercial time to come down and recuperate after the sex marathon.
But Eliza didn’t want to just sit on opposite ends of the loveseat, barely touching, some of their spark missing, while she counted down the minutes and wishing time would move slower. She wanted to curl up on his lap, in his arms, and feel like time had stopped without even realizing it.
At this point, she figured it was safe to say they were friends with benefits.
Eliza wanted more.
She wanted a relationship. A real one. With dates and talking and laughing, and maybe a little less physical intimacy and a little more emotional intimacy. Looking at Nash, she could envision it already, but he hadn’t made a move to take the relationship to the next level. Typical guy.
So, once he’d showered and rejoined her in front of the TV, Eliza swallowed hard and decided it was finally time to put her newfound confidence to the test. Christmas was only a few weeks away, and she didn’t want to leave to visit family in Connecticut without knowing that she and Nash were actually headed somewhere. She wasn’t looking for a marriage proposal by any means—but something more substantial than where they were now would work just fine.
“So, hey,” she started once the first commercial break hit, shifting on the spot so that she faced him, “can I ask you something?”
Nash took a quick sip of his beer, the kind she now kept stocked in her fridge, and then he glanced her way. “Sure.”
“I know this is kind of the question everyone dreads,” Eliza continued, fidgeting with her fingers, “but…what are we?”
He kept his focus on the TV for a long moment, and then he cleared his throat. “What do you mean?”
She bit back her frown, not wanting to seem disappointed at how obviously dumb he was pretending to be with her. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe she should have just kept her mouth shut.
No. She wanted this, and if her sexual awakening—if one could call it that—had taught her anything, Eliza had to start taking what she wanted when she had the chance.
“I mean, we’ve been hanging out for a few months,” she continued, trying to keep her tone as casual as possible. “The sex is…amazing—”
“You’re not so bad yourself, kiddo,” he teased, which earned him a light swat on the arm. He grinned though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Look, I know what you’re going to say, but I just…I’m sorry, Eliza, but I don’t do relationships.”
“I’m not asking you to marry me.” She straightened, a hand resting on his knee. “We spend all this time together anyway. We get along well. Our chemistry seems to be there. Why don’t we just, I don’t know, put a label on it? Nothing has to change.”
“Labels change everything.” He took another long swig of his drink, and then he crushed the can in his hand. “Not sure if you know that, but they do.”
“Well…” Nibbling her lower lip for a moment, Eliza let out a long sigh as her stomach knotted and churned. “If we don’t move things along, then…I’m sorry, but I can’t keep hooking up with you. It’s making things complicated.”
Nash lifted an eyebrow. “But you said the sex is amazing.”
“And it is,” she argued, resisting the urge to roll her eyes and ignore the slight tremor in her hand, “and that’s why I want to take things to the next level. Like I said, I’m not asking for a commitment to grow old with me, but I need something…more, or I’m going to have to spend less time with you, because it’s getting difficult for me.”
His dark eyes swept over her before looking away, his jaw clenched. There was a masked anger lurking, an expression she’d never seen before, and Eliza bit her lip, studying him. She turned back toward the TV, however, when the commercial break ended, and the two sat in an uncomfortable silence for the duration of the show. Every so often she’d glanced his way, wondering if he was paying as little attention as she was to what was happening on the screen. Her worry worsened at the look on his face, the way his jaw stayed clenched, his eyes almost narrowed.
This was a mistake. She shouldn’t have pushed him, but she deserved to be happy, too. When her world revolved around nothing but books and lectures and defenses, working her way through a degree that her dad had pressured her into years earlier, Eliza thought her happiness was warranted. If he wouldn’t move forward with her, she’d only dig herself into a more stressful pit than the one she was in now.
She had to be strong.
For once in her life, she needed an actual backbone.
When the commercials flashed back on, obnoxious and colorful and totally ruining the mood, Eliza shifted back to face him again and took a deep breath. However, Nash spoke before she could get even the first word out.
“Look,” he said tersely, “I can understand why you might want to move things into a more…relationship direction. I get it, but I’m not…I don’t do relationships—”
Her eyes widened, heart hammering in her chest. “But—”
“—in the traditional sense,” he finished pointedly, holding her somewhat panicked gaze. There was something in that moment, a shift in the dynamic, either imagined or real, that seemed to calm her. The knots in her stomach ceased their ache, her heart stopped pounding. She swallowed hard and simply drew in a deep breath, calmed by the look in his eye.
“Oh?”
“If you want to…move forward with our…relationship,” he said slowly, as if with some difficulty, “then we’ll do so by you calling me ‘Master.’”
“M-Master?” Heat bloomed in her cheeks at the way he watched her now, his anger gone and in its place a ravenous hunger that he usually wore when he was about to ravish her. “What do you…?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I…” She licked her lips and swallowed hard, words failing her. If she stopped for a moment, she might realize she knew exactly what he was hinting at, but Eliza didn’t want to say it aloud on the off chance that she was woefully wrong. Master. It should have occurred to her since they’d starting the sexual side of their relationship that Nash might be interested in something beyond the usual. He had a tendency to take charge when they were together, satisfying them both by instructing her on how to behave. The first few times she’d let him lead the way because she was still floundering, out of her depth and clearly very new at the whole sex thing.
But, shockingly enough, sex wasn’t exactly difficult to figure out. By the fourth or fifth time, Eliza’s confidence had shot up because she knew how to please him—and please herself. At least, she knew how to do both to the best of her abilities. Obviously there was still more to learn, and, clearly, more to explore.
“Do you mean…” She trailed off again, her cheeks flaming at that point. “All the time?”
“No, no, not all the time,” he insisted as he shuffled down t
he couch toward her, his hand stretching out across the back. Chills ran through her as he played with her hair in a lazy sort of way, twirling it around his finger. “Only when we’re together sexually. I don’t think you could handle me as your master full-time. Not yet, anyway.”
“Oh.” She found herself leaning in to his touch, finding that it calmed her. “So, you mean I call you ‘Master’ and I’d be your…uh…”
“Submissive, yes.” He said it so matter-of-factly that she felt silly for being embarrassed, but Eliza couldn’t help it.
“But I don’t know how to—”
“Of course you don’t,” Nash interrupted, his hand wandering down to grip the base of her neck. “I wouldn’t expect you to. Some people who claim to live the lifestyle barely know what they’re talking about. We’ll start slow. I’ll teach you how to please me, because if I’m right, it will ultimately please you.”
A shiver ran down her spine, and she sat up a little straighter, her attention snagged. She’d always thought all that BDSM stuff was a little sexist, especially when men were usually the dominants—as far as she knew—with submissive women at their feet. But if the goal was to please her, to please them both, maybe she could get on board with the idea.
“Eliza.” His voice made her jump, drawing her back to the moment, and he placed a finger on her chin, tilting her head up so that their eyes could meet. “I can’t be your boyfriend, but I can be a friend when we’re in public and your master when we’re in private. That’s is the best I can give you. If it’s not enough, I’m sorry, but maybe we should part ways.”
The thought of leaving him now that he’d given her a plan to make things work made her feel cold—empty. So, she shook her head and leaned in closer, her hands resting on his hard chest. “I’ll do it,” she said, a slight tremor in her voice. “I’ll try it, at least…Master.”
Saying it out loud made her feel a little silly, but the look in his eye, the darkening lust, made her swallow her nervous giggles.
“Good,” he murmured, cupping her cheek, his thumb stroking the soft skin. “Very good.” He gave her one last hard look before pulling away. “But we won’t start tonight. I don’t think you could handle any more of anything after what we did tonight.”
He was right, of course. Her body stung with the pleasant ache of lovemaking, and she couldn’t imagine what more they would have to do to start this whole master-sub thing, but she was glad he took her physical comfort into consideration.
The pair shared a quick smile before turning back to the TV. They’d missed some of the program during their talk, but it was easy to catch up with the plot.
At least, it would have been if Eliza could actually focus. Instead, her mind wandered far from the crime drama unfurling before her, a twinge of worry taking root in her gut and refusing to disappear long after Nash left her apartment that night.
Chapter 8
“Eliza?” His breath tickled her ear, his voice a satisfied rumble. “Are you sleeping?”
“Almost?” A gentle laugh slipped through her lips, and she sat up, bushy-eyed and satisfied and offered a tired smile. “Sorry. That was very relaxing.”
He’d been alternating between a massage and a backrub and drawing listless images across her back for the better part of an hour. “Aftercare”—he called it, for the “scene” they’d done that night. She’d received her first punishment as Nash’s sub. When she forgot to call him “Master” a few times during their initial play, he’d forgone the sex and just bent her over his knee to spank her. Repeatedly. Hard. Hard enough to bring tears to her eyes, but she refused to use the safe word they’d agreed upon—library—because she wanted to prove to him, and to herself, that she could play in his world. They’d only decided that she would call him “Master” a few nights ago, and she’d been incredibly anxious for their first time together in that new light.
And it had been strangely wonderful. Despite the pain, there was an ache building in her nether regions, her thighs coated in dampness when he finished with her. Maybe it came from the way he looked at her now that they were playing by his rules. There was a want in his eye, a needy lust in the way he handled her that had never been there before. When she thought back to all the times they’d been together before, it was as if Nash had been bored. Tonight was something else entirely. He was engaged. He’d had her give him a blowjob, something she still wasn’t very confident at, earlier in the night, but his cock was rock-solid after spanking her.
She’d almost thought he’d make her suck him off again, or maybe he’d just fuck her, hips slamming against her tingling sore ass, but he hadn’t. Instead, he moved right into the aftercare, into a moment of calm after the main event. She’d been stretched across his lap for the better part of an hour enjoying his gentle handling of her, almost drifting off to sleep as he soothed the ache, calmed her nerves, and brought her back to herself. Eliza the submissive faded during that time, and when she sat up, the air between them felt as it had before.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked as she sat up, his hand on her elbow to help her get settled. Sitting was still a little painful, and she wondered if she’d still have the marks of his hand on her buttocks tomorrow morning.
“I did,” she told him, squirming a little.
He smirked, obviously pleased with himself, and that made her heart flutter a little. But then he raised an eyebrow, a skeptical look crossing his face. “Even the punishment?”
Eliza hesitated for a moment, unsure if she ought to tell him just how wet the spanking made her. “Even the punishment.”
“Good,” he purred, drawing her in to him for a quick cuddle. “I knew you’d like it. You’re a fast learner.”
“Thank you, Master,” she said in her softest voice, the one she’d used during their play. She felt his eyes on her, and he stole a hard kiss from her, all teeth and tongue and savagery. When he was through, he pulled back and untangled their limbs, slowly standing and stretching. His shirtless torso rippled with muscular beauty, and Eliza couldn’t help but stare, totally in awe that a man who looked like Nash would be interested in being with a girl like her.
“Would you like some tea?” he asked after he was through stretching his muscles, clenching and unclenching the one hand that had done all the spanking. She watched him for a moment, her lower lip caught between her teeth, and wondered if he would be sore tomorrow too? “Eliza?”
“Tea?” she repeated, her eyebrows shooting up. Usually she was the one to offer tea, as she had quite the extensive collection in her cupboards, and Nash was the one to usually scoff, “Don’t you mean a beer?”
“Tea is better for calming you down than beer is,” he told her as he made his way into the kitchen.
“Alcohol is a depressant.”
“Don’t be argumentative with me,” Nash fired back, using the dominant voice he’d had for the course of their evening. It was harder than his usual voice, more commanding, and something tingled between Eliza’s legs at the sound. However, he was smiling—teasing her as she’d just teased him. “Tea will make you feel better than beer. I can make you a cup.”
After a moment of considering, she nodded, leaning on the back cushions of the loveseat as she watched him root through her cupboard. “Green, please.”
“Of course.” He probably knew it was her favorite by now. She made it at least once or twice a week when he visited, and usually it was her order at the coffee shop in the library when they were studying. It actually touched her to know that he was paying attention, and she all but melted back down into a slumped position on her couch, wishing the night would never end.
“You have a presentation tomorrow?” She sat up at his words, finding him studying the dry-erase calendar on her fridge. His arms were crossed over his chest as the kettle rumbled nearby on the counter, her water starting to boil. A reminder of the real world wasn’t welcome in her current safe space, and she made a face when he glanced back, her stomach feeling quite tight all of a s
udden. “What on?”
“Oh, nothing important,” she insisted with a slight wave, as if to brush it off. “It’s just with my T.A. and our little study group. It’s no big deal.”
Well, not entirely.
She was still being graded quite severely for her presentation, even if the one grading her was just a teaching assistant and not her actual professor. And she hadn’t really prepared as well as she should have. Nash was too much of a pleasant distraction, and with the dynamic of their relationship changing, her mind had sort of been concentrated on one thing.
“I’ve noticed you doing less work these days,” he noted, leaning against the wall by the fridge, his brow furrowed. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” she said with a laugh. “Everything’s great. I just…I’ve never had a real distraction from school stuff before, and it makes me realize just how unhappy I am studying law.”