by Tess Lamont
Afraid he’d leave, she grasped his hand.
“I need your cock, sir.” She let him go and dropped her eyes to his chest.
The term slipped from her lips, startling them both, but it worked. He dropped his jeans and boxers.
Yes. His beautiful, engorged shaft hung free. She bit her lip. She’d always thought she was lucky. Her man had a cock perfectly thick and curved, and sensitive to every touch. Luckier still, he knew exactly how to thrust that member.
He pulled his T-shirt over his head and then slid onto the bed.
How could his skin’s smooth heat feel so right after so long an absence, so deep a chasm of pain?
After Ben left, her friend Christina had said, “In Wuthering Heights, there’s a reason Heathcliff does not take out the trash—passionate love isn’t meant for daily life.”
For a while, Lisa had convinced herself Christina was right—no one could sustain that level of connection for a lifetime.
Her heart cried bull shit. Ben was hers for always.
She didn’t want to think, not with six feet of beautiful, naked male at her disposal. She rolled to her side and pressed her breasts against his chest.
He responded by curling toward her and twisting his fingers in her hair.
“I’m fucking crazy about you, Lisa.”
She stroked her nails along his neck. “Show me.”
He remained still, breathing heavy.
“Well, then,” she said, “let me show you.”
She kissed his neck on the spot he loved best. Her hands roamed over his stomach’s smooth, rippled strength as his chest rose and fell. With her nails she traced his ribs, watching in fascination as his cock jerked in response to her touch.
She swallowed. She wanted to fuck him bare, but they’d been apart for a whole year. She wouldn’t put herself at risk—not even for Ben. She reached to her end table and pulled out a condom.
Holding his eyes, she said, “Just in case.”
He nodded.
She opened the package and gently rolled the condom over his erection. She looped her fingers under his sac, lightly brushing his rough skin with her fingernail. Slowly, she rubbed her knuckle along the perimeter of his tightening balls.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she said, eyes on his cock. His member bounced. “There’s been no one else. How could there be—when this is the cock I crave?”
He growled, flipping her onto her back. She caught her breath, frozen still by his eyes’ biting blue-ice, while his cheek’s lava-dark heat turned her core to liquid.
He touched her face, hesitantly at first, before curling his hands around the nape of her neck and drawing her to him with gentle force. He kissed her deeply, and she lost herself in the warm wetness of his mouth.
He came to his knees. His legs heated her inner thighs as he nudged her wide and brushed his cock’s tip against her pussy. One, quick thrust and he filled her to his hilt.
She gasped and spread further, welcoming his steely bulk.
With slow, deliberate thrusts, he rammed her wet heat. She’d always been a cum-once woman, but as she reveled in his weight, meeting each of his thrusts and urging him on with intimate, deliberate clenches, she felt her compass swing toward a second orgasm.
She shivered, feeling every inch of his erection as he drove—long then short then long again. His breath hitched and she opened her eyes to savor the primal mix of ecstasy and pain as he spilled his cum, flexing his hips through each pulse of release.
She clenched him in, and her wave broke—sending hissing sparks down her legs and warming her belly.
He collapsed, breathing deeply. “God damn,” he whispered.
He rolled to his side and tucked her under his chin, tenderly cupping the back of her head.
God damn, indeed.
They had never had vanilla sex before. Always, there’d been fevered exchange. Words dirty enough to make a Penthouse reader blush…restraints, spankings, blindfolds, role-play…they had been a part of their daily life and nightly pleasure.
Theirs had never been a gentle love. Devoted to the extreme, passionate and intense, but never gentle.
But vanilla sex with Ben? Yes, she relaxed in the glow of an amazing release. Her orgasms rocked, but something was missing—she was still in want.
Ben skimmed his hand up her side, quick and light. His touch made her shudder, but, when uncollared, his touch felt like an expertly held razor, careful and exact, while she craved a deeper cut.
The mere joining of her body to Ben’s would never be enough.
****
Light from the mall’s food court skylights streamed through the mettle-mesh tables, making diamond patterns on the tiled floor. Lisa avoided her two best friends’ questioning glances, even though she had called this emergency lunch.
When she had quit the club this morning, Ben’s words had been echoing in her mind—Venus never shined so bright. Even though she’d been planning to quit for months, she hadn’t felt the expected relief when she had walked out of the darkness and into the over-bright morning.
She squeaked her straw through the cover of her styrofoam cup, wrestling with a buzz that hadn’t come from the caffeine in her diet soda.
“So, I’m just gonna ask: What’s the emergency, Lisa?” Jillian asked between egg roll bites.
“Has to be a man,” Christina said. “Am I right?”
“Sort of.” Lisa sucked through her straw and then glanced up innocently. “I fucked Ben yesterday.”
“What?” Christina asked.
“Come again?” Jillian laughed. “Oh yeah. You have.”
Lisa smiled thin and wan. The night’s enormity hung over her like a thunderhead, darkening her ability to think.
She couldn’t even say Ben’s name without invoking a physical response. He had primed her with his hands, his tongue, and his cock. She remained readied.
Sex had always bonded her to Ben. And, although last night hadn’t left her with the physical proof she craved—a burning ass, the soft indentations of rope, and the slight ache of well-pinched nipples—she still felt claimed.
Claimed by a man who didn’t want to master. Disaster. Utter disaster.
“If I had known we were going to have this kind of conversation, I would have suggested a place with alcohol,” Christina said. “Now, out with the deets. How did this happen?”
“Ben stopped by the club to give me something. I asked him to come over. Yada, yada, yada, I came to lunch with you guys.”
“Not funny,” Jillian quipped. “Do you mean he stayed the night?”
“Um hum,” Lisa said, purposely keeping the straw between her lips.
“And, how was the sex?” Christina asked.
Lisa shrugged.
“Are you serious?” Christina leaned forward and dropped her voice. “Sex was bad? With the infamous Ben?”
Lisa shifted in her chair, remembering how his lips had whispered against her throat like a heavy silk nightgown.
“Not bad, exactly,” she said. “But not enough, either.”
“Ah,” Christina said, looking perplexed.
“That makes sense,” Jillian injected, nodding thoughtfully. “I get it.”
“What do you mean?” Lisa asked.
“Yeah,” Christina said. “This I need to hear.”
Jillie shot Chris a sideways glance. “Lisa and Ben were amazing because they were a couple. Last night was unsatisfying because it was a fling.”
Lisa grimaced. Jillie had a way of seeing the core of things.
Christina raised her eyebrows and leaned in. “Last night was a fling, wasn’t it?”
No, last night hadn’t been a fling. She knew that much at least. But today had been a day of rapid-fire change. Everything seemed in flux, blurred.
“I have no idea what last night was.” Lisa pressed her back into the chair. “The situation is fluid.”
“Why did he come to the club in the first place?” Christina asked.
Lisa crinkled her nos
e. “To give me a book.”
“Are you serious?” Jillian asked. “What kind of book?”
“A journal.”
Jillian’s jaw dropped. “You mean, like, Ben wrote his thoughts down in a book?”
“He isn’t stupid, Jillie,” Lisa said, frowning.
Jillian straightened. “I didn’t mean he was dumb. He’s not the reflective type, is all.”
“I know.” Lisa sighed. “I was as surprised as you are.”
“Did you read the journal?” Christina asked.
“No, not yet,” Lisa admitted.
“Why not?” Jillian asked.
Lisa shrugged and looked out the window, looking anywhere but into the perceptive eyes of her friends. Before Ben had arrived, she avoided the book because she wanted him to tell her what he had to say directly. After last night, she avoided it because, well…
Because I’m afraid he’s going to deny who we are, deny what we did and well-and-truly break my heart in the process.
“Do you want him back?” Jillie asked.
Yes, no, maybe….hell. An uneasy tingle began at the nape of her neck. Who was she kidding?
“Yes, I want him back.” Admitting the truth was surprisingly soothing, but—“I want him back…only not the way he was acting last night.”
“Jerky, huh?” Christina’s expression was sympathetic.
“No,” Lisa admitted, almost reluctantly. “Just the opposite. He couldn’t stop apologizing.”
“For which of his many sins did he seek forgiveness?” Christina sounded mockingly prim.
“For leaving me, I assume.” As Lisa said the words, she realized she did not believe them.
Ben’s behavior last night, his equivocation, his reluctance to give in to his desire, all pointed in one direction—he was ashamed of the world they’d created. He was ashamed of her need to be dominated. Which had to mean he’d run because she had scared him away.
Mortification spread through her body. Never in her life had she felt more vulnerable, more exposed.
Jillian narrowed her eyes, making Lisa feel as if her private thoughts had been spoken aloud.
“I don’t think so. There’s something else going on here.” Jillian hummed thoughtfully. “You should read that journal.”
“I know,” Lisa said quietly.
She could not push Ben’s written apology off forever.
She had to accept that he loved her, but just couldn’t deal with her nature. She had believed their needs molded to one another like two sides of a single coin. While there was no such thing as the perfect Dom—she had thought he was her perfect Dom. How could she have been so wrong?
“You can’t make a decision until you know what he’s thinking.” Jillian was like a dog on a scent when she had ferreted out someone’s truth. “Promise you’ll read his book.”
“Fine. I will read the book,” Lisa said.
“Wait a minute.” Christina held up her hand. “Lisa, did Ben say he wanted you back?”
“There wasn’t much conversation,” Lisa replied. “Though when we were…you know…he said was crazy about me.” Lisa snorted. “Fucking crazy, I believe, were his exact words.”
Christina groaned. “You should know you can’t trust verbal pre-cum.”
“That’s disgusting, Chris.” Jillian frowned. “You didn’t press him to talk? You know, after?”
“God, no,” Lisa answered.
After the sex, she and Ben had acted like fucking virgins—embarrassed and awkward. Lisa had practically pushed him out the door in the morning before he could say anything that might hurt.
Christina narrowed her eyes. “Who started the sex, him or you?”
Lisa felt herself flush, again. For two years, she has strutted almost naked across a stage, and this morning she was blushing like a freakin’ teen.
“Oh my God. You did,” Christina said with a snort. “You’re the man in this scenario. You asked for sex and then you didn’t want to talk about it!”
“That’s not fair,” Lisa said, though the corner of her mouth twitched.
“Not fair, but true.” Christina folded her arms. “Don’t get me wrong, though. Serves the bastard right.”
“You have to read the book, now,” Jillian said, shaking her head. “It’s only fair.”
“Why, because she took his pride?” Christina asked.
“No, because she needs to know,” Jillian said defensively.
“I already said I’d read it, Jillie, okay?” Lisa waved a hand in the air. “Enough about Ben. There’s another reason I wanted to see you guys.”
“What could be bigger than sleeping with Ben?” Jillian asked.
“I quit the club this morning.”
“Oh. My. God.” Jillian punctuated each word by hitting the table with her palm. “Huge. Just huge.”
“That’s great!” Christina said.
Lisa narrowed her eyes, looking back and forth between her two best friends.
“I think it’s great too,” she said, “but you two need to explain why you are so happy. I thought you both supported my dancing.”
Jillian and Christina exchanged glances.
“Your rationale made sense…at first.” Jillian stopped abruptly and took a bite of her sandwich.
Christina rolled her eyes. “What Jillie means is that when you said stripping would be better than being at the beck and call of every idiot co-worker who thought they could dump on you, we supported you.”
“Um hum,” Jillian nodded with her mouth full and pointed to Chris. “What she said.”
“But…” Lisa prodded.
Jillie held up a finger and took a sip of her drink. “When things changed between you and Ben we began to wonder…”
Tingles of new awareness raised Lisa’s neck hair. “What do you mean?”
“You changed,” Christina said.
“I changed?” Lisa raised her eyebrows.
“A little.” Jillian scrunched her nose.
Lisa twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. Was she really surprised her friends had seen a difference? Hadn’t she felt herself slipping—little by little? Hadn’t her body grown less sensitive, her mind more cynical?
“Wait,” she said. “Did you think dancing was changing me even before Ben left?”
“Yes, actually.” Christina’s tone was matter-of-fact. “Though you’ve been better since he left. For a while there, it seemed like you had given up completely.”
Jillian nodded.
Lisa drew her brows together and tried to remember. She’d felt numb at the club for a very long time, but hadn’t realized her numbness had been noticeable outside of The Oasis. Had Ben noticed as well?
“You didn’t realize how detached you’d become?” Christina asked. “Does that mean you’re quitting for Ben?”
Jillian nudged Christina with her foot. “Of course she isn’t quitting for Ben. She’s probably been thinking about this for weeks.”
“Jillie’s right. I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”
Ben, however, had been the catalyst. When she’d seen him standing against that column, something had permanently shifted. He was real, the rest was not. She realized how much she longed for real connection, and how far away connection would remain—not just with Ben, but with anyone—as long as she was dancing.
“Why didn’t you tell me you disapproved of my dancing?” Lisa asked.
Christina and Jillian exchanged glances.
“We didn’t disapprove exactly. We just thought it might not be good for you anymore,” Christina said. “I’m sure it’s fine for some, just not for you.”
“We were going to talk to you,” Jillian said, wrinkling her nose. “Sort of stage an intervention. But then Ben left, and we thought you needed to recover before you could think of making other changes.”
Lisa slumped. “Encouraging to know you both had so much faith in me.”
“We did—no—we do.” Jillian replied, rubbing Lisa’s arm. “Lo
ok how well you’ve done for yourself.”
Lisa arched a brow. “Oh yes. I’m a paragon.”
“You have a great apartment,” Jillie said defensively. “And you’ve gotten really into your Yoga. You are happier.”
Yes, she was. Happy, but incomplete.
“What are you going to do now?” Christina asked.
“I have money saved. And I’ve been taking instructor certification classes at my yoga studio. The owner offered me a job. If I do that, along with another part-time job, I’m pretty sure I can cover my bills.”
“Oh, that’s a great idea!” Jillian said.
“It’s not the kind of money I’m used to. But I’ll figure something out.”
“You could move in with me,” Christina offered.
A warm feeling stole into Lisa’s heart. “Thanks, Chris―” She squeezed her friend’s hand. “―but I like my place. Besides, it would be a bit crowded with your son.”
“Well, the offer stands.” Christina clamped her mouth shut and looked away.
Lisa knew that look. “What aren’t you saying, Christina?”
Christina hesitated. “Today isn’t about me.”
“No worries,” Lisa said. “I’m all straightened out…almost, anyway.”
“Yeah, she’s fine,” Jillie said with a wink. “Tell us what’s up, Chris.”
“Michael decided he wants to go to a private prep school next year.” Christina sniffed. “My ex is willing to pay.”
“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” Jillian said.
Lisa turned her full attention to Christina. Lisa certainly had enough to think about, but she’d do it later. Right now, her friend needed her.
****
Lisa closed Ben’s little black book and set it on her coffee table. By habit, she meandered into her kitchen and poured herself another glass of wine. With a shaking hand, she opened the fridge to replace the bottle, and then changed her mind. What she’d read called for more than just a single glass. She carried the nearly full magnum back into the living room.
Jillian had been right, damn it. When Ben had apologized, he hadn’t been apologizing for leaving.
Lisa rubbed her forehead. But neither had her worst fear been true—he wasn’t ashamed of her sub nature. Not exactly.
He had been apologizing for exploring their darkest desires, for the games they played.