by M. S. Parker
I whimpered at the thought of something pinching my clit as hard as he was holding my nipple. But I wanted it. Him spanking me had turned me on more than I’d realized, and I knew he could show me things that I’d never find with anyone else. Because I’d never let anyone else this close.
“I’m going to fuck your ass one day.” He spoke so matter-of-factly that it took a moment for his words to sink in. “And then we’re going to try some double penetration.” Before I could react, he leaned over and put his mouth against my ear. “Don’t worry, my Paige. I don’t plan on ever sharing you with anyone. But there are ways to have just as much fun.”
I groaned as he bit down on my shoulder, then shouted his name as he pressed his fingers hard against my clit, forcing me over the edge. My arms shook, elbows giving out as an orgasm ripped through me. I yelped as his grip on my hair tightened, holding me in place as he slammed into me one more time.
As he came, he said only two words.
“Thank you.”
Twenty-Seven
Reb
I’d dozed a bit after I’d cleaned us up and put us to bed. I’d always taken good care of the subs I’d fucked, but I hadn’t literally gone to bed with them. I hadn’t wanted to give them the wrong impression. Occasionally, I’d fallen asleep after sex, but Mitzi had been the only other woman I’d ever consciously chosen to go to sleep with, and only then occasionally. Those nights, I’d hardly been able to rest, constantly aware of her presence, and not in a good way. It had been uncomfortable, something to endure rather than enjoy.
Waking up with Paige in my arms again wasn’t like that at all.
She was curled into me, her back against my chest. We were both still naked, and I was hyperaware of all the places where our skin touched. Being with her was so different than being with anyone else. Not because she was inexperienced. She looked past my image to see me, rather than looking past me to see my image, and now, knowing the sort of baggage she had when it came to guys like me, I was even more impressed.
Now, as I brushed some hair back from her face, I allowed myself to acknowledge that what I felt for her was much deeper than wanting, more selfless than needing. I was falling in love with her.
The thought should have terrified me. I’d never said that to any woman who wasn’t family. Not really. I’d said ‘love ya’ and ‘right back at you’ to Mitzi a few times near the end when she’d been saying it to me almost every day, but I’d never flat out said ‘I love you’ or ‘I’m falling in love with you’ to her. Want had been the word I’d used when it came to my feelings for her.
The bedroom was dark, leaving Paige’s features in shadows, but I didn’t need light to see her. I knew her face and body as well as my own.
I kissed her shoulder and pulled the blankets more snuggly around us both. I was tempted to use my fingers and tongue to wake her, then slip into her from behind and take her nice and slow. My stomach clenched at the thought, and my interested cock when from half-hard to uncomfortable.
No. I couldn’t do that to her. I’d been rough earlier, and while I didn’t doubt that she would’ve told me to stop if she hadn’t enjoyed herself, she was still new to all of this and needed time to recover.
I needed to remember to talk to her about how the Dom / sub relationship worked outside of the obvious bedroom interactions. I didn’t want her to think that I expected her to be submissive all the time. Hell, I liked when she pushed me. I had enough people kissing my ass. I needed someone like her to keep me in check out there. Some things, though, would remain the same. I wasn’t the sort of Dom who insisted on controlling every aspect of her life, telling her when and what to eat, what to wear, who she could spend time with, but I did take my responsibility to care for her seriously.
Which meant she had to be honest with me if I was too rough or if she needed a break. I’d always push her limits, test her comfort zones, but I’d never hurt her. Despite what most people thought of my world, a sub’s well-being was a Dom’s top priority.
When I couldn’t ignore the call of nature any longer, I eased myself out of bed. My clothes from earlier today were hanging in the bathroom, still damp from my attempts to wash at least some of the smell from them, but since I didn’t have any other clothes, I pulled my jeans back on, grimacing at the cold fabric. Still, it was better than wandering around Paige’s apartment naked. At least they finally smelled better.
As much as I enjoyed sleeping next to Paige, I was too restless to get back into bed. It wasn’t the normal restlessness I got after sex. I didn’t have any urge to leave, but something had me on edge. It was a familiar feeling, but I couldn’t quite place it yet.
I went into her kitchen and got myself a bottle of water, then paced around the small space, taking in all the details I’d missed before. Sparse furniture, and none of it looked brand-new, but they weren’t the ragtag furnishings I’d expected from a recent college graduate. They matched relatively well and looked like they’d been taken care of. She had a small television in the corner, but the stack of books next to a large overstuffed armchair suggested she spent more time reading than watching TV.
Everything was neat and orderly, which didn’t surprise me. Paige struck me as a person who wanted things in her place but wasn’t so obsessive about it that that place didn’t look lived in.
A small notepad and pen were stuck to her fridge, and I took them over to the chair with me. It wasn’t until I sat down that I even realized why I’d wanted them. For the first time in months, I put pen to paper and began to write.
Notes and words flowed out of me, and I edited as I went, scratching out things that didn’t work and replaced them with new. I chased the music in my head, racing to capture everything that ran through my mind before it was too late.
My hand started to cramp at some point, but I pushed my way through it. It’d been too long since I’d written things out long-hand. Technology was wonderful for getting things down quickly and saving them in a place where they wouldn’t get lost, but there was something to be said for the act of writing things out by hand.
At some point, I began humming the tune, making adjustments as I heard the various instruments in my head. Or rather, as I took out the different instruments. I was considered a solo artist, but I had a band that backed me with drums, bass, and a second guitar, sometimes giving me some assistance on vocals.
This song stripped away all of that. As it solidified in my head, I knew it would be only me and a guitar. Not acoustic, necessarily, but no frills. I didn’t know if that sound would carry through an entire album, or a tour, but for this song, it worked.
Finally, I set down the pen and stared at the pages in front of me. It had been more than half a year since I’d written anything, and none of it had been this good. For a long time, writing had been exhausting, a chore. It had always been work, but anyone who did something difficult that they loved will tell you that there was a world of difference between satisfying hard work and the kind of thing you endured because it needed to be done.
I wasn’t a fool, and I didn’t believe in magical fixes or anything like that, but I did believe in inspiration, in the existence of something beyond what I could touch and see. I’d lost that, even before what had happened with Mitzi, but I’d found it again. And I didn’t doubt for a moment why.
Paige hadn’t only given me what I needed as a man and as a Dom. She’d given me back my voice.
Twenty-Eight
Paige
Something had woken me up, but I didn’t know what it was. For a moment, I was disoriented, wondering where I was, and then I felt the familiar comforter, saw the familiar shadows. I was home. But something still felt off. I stretched out my hand without really knowing why, but when I touched empty space, I remembered that I hadn’t gone to bed alone.
I rolled onto my back again and sighed. I hadn’t given much thought to whether or not Reb would stay the night, but I’d hoped he’d at least wake me up before he left rather than sneaking
out. I didn’t know what any of this meant. We hadn’t made any declarations or commitments, so it was entirely possible that he simply hadn’t felt like sleeping over, or maybe he thought it would’ve given the wrong impression. I’d understand that sort of hesitation, but I still wished he would’ve talked to me about it. I’d rather have had an awkward conversation than all of these questions.
I started to turn over, then stilled when I heard something. A faint noise. Not talking, exactly, and not loud enough for me to make out anything specific. It could have been the neighbor’s television, but a glance at my phone told me that it was barely two o’clock in the morning. Mr. and Mrs. Armitage went to bed at eleven-thirty every night after they watched the news, and they got up at six-thirty every morning, whether they had anywhere to go or not. I knew this because they’d told me when I’d first met them. I was welcome to come over if I ever needed anything, but unless it was an emergency, I was never to disturb them between that eleven-thirty and six-thirty timeframe.
So why was I hearing what sounded like a radio?
No, not a radio.
Someone was singing.
No music, no commercials.
Just singing.
And it was coming from inside my apartment.
I blamed my still-fuzzy brain for taking so long to realize that it must’ve been Reb, though why he was singing in my living room, I couldn’t figure out. I climbed out of bed and grabbed my robe from the back of my bathroom door. I didn’t bother with anything else but headed out to the living room to see what was happening.
When I saw him sitting in my chair, I stopped, my curiosity getting the better of me. He held a few scraps of paper in one hand. The other rested on his knee, fingers tapping out a rhythm that went with the melody he was singing.
I thought I’d lost it all
Would never trust again
I tried to drown the pain
And never let anyone in
I didn’t claim to know everything in Reb’s discography, but I’d listened to a few songs. This didn’t sound like anything he’d done before. It wasn’t so much the style as it was the nature of it. Similar, maybe, to a song or two on his first album, but even they had notes of something I recognized now as loneliness. This one was passionate, full of longing, but hopeful too.
But I saw my future in your eyes
Heard the song I thought was lost
You brought me back to life
Gave me my music once again
His voice was raspier, rawer than what I’d heard on the albums, and I wondered if that was some sort of polishing done post-recording. I liked this one better.
I waited until he finished singing, until that last note faded away, and then I spoke, “That was amazing. When did you write it?”
“Just now,” he said, turning to look at me. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
I shook my head and crossed the space between us. It was a testament to how good his song was that it wasn’t until now that I realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt. “It wasn’t a bad way to wake up.”
He reached up and took my hand, tugging me down on his lap. I pulled my legs up and curled against his chest. I’d gotten this chair because I didn’t have enough room for a couch, but I’d wanted something bigger than a regular chair. Fortunately, it was big enough to fit both of us. That should be a selling point.
“Everything okay?” I asked as I ran my fingers through his hair. “I know the bed’s smaller than what you’re used to–”
He caught my hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing my fingertips. “The bed’s fine. I got up to use the bathroom, and then couldn’t go back to sleep.”
“Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”
“Very.” He slid his hand under my robe, curled his fingers around my calf. “I got inspired, and it’s been a while, so I wanted to write it down before I lost it again.” He nodded toward the paper he’d been holding when I first saw him. “I owe you a new notebook.”
I smiled. “I’m sure I can come up with some way for you to pay me back.”
He returned the smile as he leaned in for a kiss. His fingers tightened on my leg as I flicked my tongue against his lips. I moaned as his teeth scraped against my lip, the slight sting making heat coil in my stomach.
“It’s because of you,” he said as he rested his forehead against mine. “That I was writing again. You helped me find the music.”
I opened my mouth to protest, and he put a finger against my lips.
“You’re my muse.” He placed his palm on the side of my face. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Yes, you did,” he insisted. “You talked to Tanya, Sine, and Savannah, right? That’s what they are to the guys. Their muses. And I never understood it. Until now.”
I wasn’t entirely sure I agreed with him, but I wasn’t going to argue either. I wouldn’t do anything to take away the joy I saw on his face, in his eyes. I kissed his forehead.
“You’re worth it, you know.” I traced his mouth with my fingers. “Worth the risk.”
“I’m not going to make any crazy promises,” he said. “Because I’m human. I know I’ll do stupid shit that’ll piss you off. But what I can promise is that I will never lie to you. Even when I do something stupid. I will never give you reason to doubt me.” He took my face between his hands. “I swear it.”
I maneuvered myself around until I was straddling his lap, our eyes locking. “I believe you.”
His eyes slid down and then back up again. “How are you feeling?” His question was full of so much promise that it sent an immediate rush of arousal through me.
“A little sore,” I admitted. I leaned closer and put my mouth against his ear. “But nothing that would keep me from wanting to ride you right now.”
His eyes narrowed, and a shiver went down my spine. He reached for the belt on my robe, and I pulled back enough to let him untie it. My pulse was already racing as he wrapped his arms around me, but he ignored the fact that I was naked under my robe and instead pulled my arms behind my back. Without even looking, he quickly tied my wrists together and then leaned back in the chair.
I raised an eyebrow. “Not really what I was expecting.”
He grinned at me. “Since I don’t have access to all of my favorite toys, I figured I’d improvise.”
His hands moved under my robe, pushing it off my shoulders until it caught on my bound hands. He made a sound of appreciation as his attention turned to my bared breasts.
“Now, my Paige, let’s see how hot and bothered I can get you by playing with these pretty breasts of yours.”
He slid his arm around my waist, his hand settling at the small of my back. He held me in place as he lowered his head, and the moment his tongue began to trace patterns on my skin, I was grateful for the steadying touch.
“Reb,” I moaned.
“I love hearing you say my name like that.” His lips tickled as he spoke. “In fact, I think the only words you’re allowed to say now are my name, please, and fuck.”
If my ass hadn’t still been sensitive from getting spanked, I might have thought he was joking, but I wasn’t about to risk it. I was fine with those three words.
Especially if he kept playing with my nipples like that. His fingers weren’t only talented when it came to playing instruments. He could play me like no one else, rolling and pinching until every nerve was singing. And his mouth…fuck…the things this man could do with his mouth. His tongue teased the tip even as he wrapped his lips around it, and I writhed on his lap. I needed more.
“Please,” I begged. “Please, Reb.”
I pulled against my restraints, my actions more instinct than anything else. I wanted to bury my hands in his hair, hold his head in place. I hadn’t realized just how frustrating it would be not being able to touch him when he could touch me.
“Such pretty nipples.” His teeth scraped over one, then moved to the other, worrying a
t them until they were both throbbing.
“Fuck, Reb,” I gasped. “I need–”
He made a tsking sound. “Those aren’t any of your words, Paige.”
I shivered, then cried out as he bit the side of my breast.
“I think maybe you need to be reminded who’s in charge.” His eyes glinted with the sort of light that made low things tighten. “What do you think?”
I swallowed hard, my body thrumming with need. “Please.”
He moved one hand between us, opening his jeans. He wasn’t wearing anything under them, and then his cock was out, thick and hard. His eyes locked with mine as he grabbed my hips.
“I want you on me, sweet Paige. You’re going to ride me until I come, and if you behave yourself while I’m emptying myself into that tight cunt of yours, I’ll let you come too.”
My pussy clenched, in part because of his words, the sort of coarse language I’d never thought of as a turn-on, but even if he hadn’t said anything, I would’ve felt the need to have him inside me.
I nodded and let him guide me as I raised myself up on my knees. The tip of his cock brushed against me as he positioned me right where I needed to be. I didn’t have my hands to balance me, but I trusted him to keep me from falling as I lowered myself onto him.
Every motion sent another ripple of pleasure through me. Every inch stretching me in ways that were still new. We weren’t like puzzle pieces, perfectly interlocking, but rather like our bodies had been custom-made for each other. Each part of me molded around him until I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began.
“Fuck, babe, I love being inside you,” he groaned. His fingers flexed.
I wanted to tell him how amazing he felt. How I couldn’t imagine ever finding anyone else who fit me this way. How I couldn’t imagine wanting to. He was the only man I’d been with, and I didn’t want to think about being with anyone else.