She stretched her neck, and as Mark breathed quietly beneath her—she was sprawled across him more than the blankets—she tried to find a way to get out of the bed. A daunting task for so early in the morning. Blinking was already taking too much energy.
No matter which way she moved, it would most likely wake him, so she gave up and just rolled right off him in one quick flop.
She snapped her head back at him once she was clear. He continued to sleep peacefully.
Good.
She needed a few moments to herself to digest all that had happened last night.
He’d “made love to her,” as he put it. She was scared to call it that, so in her mind, to make it seem less scary, he had fucked her three times. Once when they were playing initially and neither of them could withstand any longer, then twice in the middle of the night when he woke her. One of those times, he was already inside her before she was aware of what was going on. How twisted was it that out of those three encounters, the unexpected, half-asleep fuck, was the one that in this moment was getting her blood pumping so furiously? Plenty disturbing—or should’ve been.
The idea he had to have her no matter what, even if she was barely aware of what was going on, sent a delicious shiver of sheer lust down her spine.
She tiptoed out of his bedroom and headed over to the guest room where she was supposed to be sleeping.
A shower would be nice, but for now, she needed to talk to Tia before he roused.
Just in case he woke and came looking for her, she locked her door, went into the bathroom and turned the shower on, then adjusted the temperature.
“Pick up, dammit,” she muttered, clutching the phone to her ear. “I need help!”
Three times. Oh God, she was a total whore. She always knew deep down she was a closeted, insatiable slut. Three times, and Pono had only been gone for a week. Fucked three times and already dying for more.
What did this say about her? How could Mark respect her at all?
Her throat constricted the minute Tia answered the phone with a groggy, “Whaaaat?”
“Tia, thank God! I’m a wreck, and we fucked three times, and I can’t believe I just told you this, but I need some serious help! I think I’m losing my mind,” Jeanie rambled.
“Slow down. Tell me about the fuckings first because that might be easier to handle until I’ve dumped some caffeine into my veins,” Tia replied.
There was some shifting of fabric on Tia’s end.
“Hurry up and get your buzz—I need you coherent,” Jeanie said. “Enough to at least tell me how to get out of this mess.”
“Mess? What’re you talkin’ about? You’re totally into each other, and I’m sure the sex was mind-blowing, knowing Mark. Tell me you had screaming orgasms, at least.” Tia yawned, and Jeanie could hear her friend’s feet shuffling about her home.
“Yes, several, but that’s beside the point.”
“Then what is the point? Why are you freaking out?” Tia moaned. “Fuck! Out of caffeine!”
“Oh, sorry . . .”
“It’s . . . I’ll bust someone’s kneecap, and then it’ll all be perfect,” Tia said with a dry scratchy chuckle floating out of her. She sounded so carefree, and a tight pang of envy hit Jeanie’s gut.
“It’s just all moving so fast. Pono died six days ago, I shouldn’t be this happy, and in another man’s bed, tangled up in his arms and five-hundred thread-count sheets. We spent the entire night cuddling, and I don’t cuddle.”
Tia barked a wooden laugh. “Neither does Mark. Hell, sounds like he’s freaking out, too. He was probably worried you’d disappear on him in the middle of the night.”
“What am I supposed to do? He says he’ll deal with Pono’s family, but I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. They’ll be devastated if they find out I’m already sleeping with one of Pono’s closest friends. Oh, God . . . They’ll hate me—they’ll hate him. This is so wrong! What is my problem that I allowed this to happen?” Tears slid down her cheeks, and she gripped her hair at the roots, then yanked. The crazy thing was, her mind immediately envisioned Mark pulling it hard as he fucked her from behind, and warmth spread through her stomach, then moved south.
She slumped against the wall and slid her way down to the floor.
“You’re always so afraid to be happy. All you have to do is remember how you felt when you were with him—alone, just the two of you—and you’ll have your answer.”
“Don’t. Tell. Me. That! I can’t stop thinking about it as it is. He’s incredible—the things he says, the things he does and the way he looks at me. I could burn in those eyes for the rest of eternity and be content to never move on.” She ground her teeth together.
Tia exhaled but was silent.
“What if I just need some space? He’s so intense, he takes over and I can’t even blink without his say so. It’s too much, too . . .”
“Okay, big breaths, hon. Take a bath. Relax. Read a book, and take a nap.”
“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”
“Yeah, well . . . Tell him you need to slow down. He’ll listen. That’s what a Dom does. He takes care of you. Take advantage of him being there for you.”
Tia said a few more things about rules, but Jeanie barely heard her with her head spinning so fast.
Jeanie tried to slow her breathing so she could calm down. “I think I’m getting that. Or I’m trying to, at least.”
“Eat breakfast. Take a shower. Tell him your friend Tia says hi, and she wants to spend some one-on-one girl time soon.”
“Okay, I’ll see what I can do. Maybe we can go do something tomorrow. He wants to sign contracts this morning over bacon slaps,” Jeanie responded in a knee-jerk reaction.
“Bacon slaps? Now he’s into food fetishes? Maybe it’s good I got out when I did.” Tia laughed. “Bacon’s greasy, and that shit takes forever to wash out. Maybe you should stock up on dish soap. Dawn cuts grease, or so I’m told.”
“No, it’s not that . . . Never mind. I’ll see you later.” Jeanie ended the call, mortified over the thought her friend might actually think they had done kinky things with raw meat.
She quickly stripped, hoping there was still some hot water left. When she’d turned it on initially, she had set the temperature to lukewarm.
Her insides clenched and shivered while she stood under the water, even though the water was warm enough. Mark—he might be waiting. How was she going to manage to leave? And was she even sure she wanted to?
It was all too confusing.
She shook really hard from her firing nerves as she soaped up carelessly and faster than she ever had before.
It was less than relaxing.
A moment alone was good. Or that’s what she repeated in her head to keep from falling apart completely. So why did she feel panicked inside, craving him to be near again?
This was out of control. What good could come of being so dependent right after the death of a spouse?
Jesus—she couldn’t stop thinking of those heated looks Mark constantly gave her, and the raw, passionate things he said to her. They never stopped.
It was who he was. This wasn’t an act. It wasn’t all a cheap come-on. He meant every damn word.
And that made her insides tingle and then explode until she was so slick between her thighs, she had to wash off again with some generous soap-action.
Her fingers explored, roamed a little, but it wasn’t the same. Less satisfying, and she felt wrong somehow, like she was cheating on him.
“What the hell, Jeanie? He doesn’t own you.”
Yeah—she needed to tell that to her pussy . . .
She turned off the water, but before stepping out, she considered turning it back on and maybe shaving her pubic area bare.
But what if he didn’t like that? He’d specify, wouldn’t he?
Why was she even questioning this?
She stepped out and dried off.
Thinking about shaving herself down there had to be on
e of the stupidest things she’d done in a while.
More than sleeping with Mark almost directly after a funeral?
Her chest clenched with shame.
Fucking. It was just fucking—and people did that when struck with grief. It was a way of celebrating being alive.
Only that wasn’t what happened, and no amount of lying about it would make her feel better.
She felt something for Mark and always had from the moment she first talked to him. He listened attentively, engaged her in conversation and was mindful of what she liked and didn’t like.
She ran her hand over her pubic bone, imagining what it might look like bare if he asked her to do that. Like a moron, she inhaled directly after with her palm placed before her nostrils.
Whoa! Why did it smell so strongly of arousal? She just washed thoroughly with soap. What the hell was this all about?
Fabulous.
She hung her towel, walked into her room naked and shrieked in horror when she bumped into something large and dark that hadn’t been in her room earlier.
“Aaaaaahhhhh fuuuuuuck!” She jumped.
“It’s just me,” he said, grabbing her by the arms.
When she looked up into his eyes, they were focused on her face.
“I heard you called Tia.”
She nodded, and her breath caught. Did Tia call and tell him?
“Her Dom, Rodney, called. I’m dropping you off over at Tia’s this morning so you can talk to her. I can tell you have questions, and you obviously don’t feel comfortable right now asking me. Rodney’s agreed this would be fine for Tia to take on a mentor role if that’s what you want.” His breath was minty as it washed over her face.
“I’m not sure, but I do feel comfortable talking to her . . .” her voice trailed off as she envisioned what it would be like telling Tia in person all these sordid details—all the nitty gritty items, weighing down her mind.
She went straight to her bag to get dressed. His eyes followed her.
She put on her underwear, and still his eyes were on her.
Oddly, it was comforting to have him watching. Somehow it felt familiar even though Pono never paid attention. That man wouldn’t notice if she chose to be nude all the time at home. He was so comfortable and oblivious he was more like a roommate, peeing with the door open.
She never liked that it had gotten to that point.
“You’re fine with me being in here—I like that.” His eyes softened.
“It feels normal somehow.” She shrugged, slipped into a bra and then a tee shirt.
“That’s because you know I want to be in here. It’s not shameful to let a man watch that adores you.”
“Yeah, but society would say it’s indecent. It’s breaking rules of some sort,” she said, pulling her shorts on.
“I’ve got much better rules, and I think you’ll enjoy them much more than the boring, vanilla ones you’ve lived with your entire life.” He grinned.
“So far I seem to be breaking rules right and left without even realizing. It’s one of the things I worry about in this arrangement.” She sat on the bed and stared back at him.
“Rules are a good thing. You act like they exist to repress you. They’re actually there to free you up so you don’t have to worry about them. How many women are frustrated when they start dating a new guy because there are no clear cut plans or rules to follow? Will he call? Won’t he? And why?”
“A lot of these rules you have are built on your whims, so how’s that any different?” She slid her toes across the cool wood floor. So different from back home. She was used to carpet and tile.
“They’re not based on my whims. They’re based on what you want, and then I make sure you get it, but I do it my way. That’s how there are assurances that it’s equal. What good is any relationship if only one person gives and the other person takes? We both get something out of this.”
“If we’re both automatically giving and taking, then remind me—I guess I’m not seeing why rules are even necessary? That part seems kind of stiff and unnatural to me.”
“In the beginning—yes, I admit—it can feel that way, but it fades quickly, and then we both settle in and know what’s expected. In the long run, things go smoother and there are fewer issues with miscommunication and misunderstandings. They’re meant to protect your heart, Jeanie. Why’s that a bad thing? Why’s it wrong for me to correct you?”
She swallowed and went mute. Her brain went blank. What was she supposed to say?
He stepped right up to her. “Stop worrying about breaking the rules. It’s going to happen sometimes, and it’s okay. I’ll be here to remind you and keep explaining them if you need it.”
“Sounds exhausting for you,” she said, rolling her eyes and her head in the process. “Why bother with me when I have no clue what I’m doing? I’ll be a klutz and make this less than fun for you.”
“There is nothing klutzy about you. You’re beautiful, and there’s this elegance about you I admire.” He gripped her chin and tipped her head up so she was forced to look at him. “Tell me the idea of rules, when exacted by me, doesn’t turn you on.”
Her breath caught somewhere between her ribs and pussy, where this pressure was building.
“I don’t know why it does that to me, but, yeah . . . I’m not sure if I should like it or not, though. It sounds like I’ll be trapped somehow.”
“You won’t.” He leaned the back of his knees into the edge of the mattress. “You have a say in everything, so you’ll never feel trapped. If you decide a certain rule doesn’t work for you, well, then we revise it or get rid of it.”
She exhaled a shaky breath. Her diaphragm was freaking out a little with him this close. It was like he commanded her very breath.
“I’ll need a lot of reminders. Won’t that bother you, Sir?”
He smiled when she used his title.
God, he was gorgeous when he was happy—eyes all lit up like that.
“It’s simple—I love you enough to care about giving reminders, but I don’t expect perfection. I do expect you to care, though, just like I do. It should be important to both of us. And that’s all that matters—we’re both invested. That’s how this works. That’s why the fears go away. You know I’m completely devoted to you and your happiness, and I have the satisfaction of knowing I get the same in return. What about that doesn’t sound like everything you’ve ever wanted right down to your marrow?”
“Yeah, I . . .” She glanced over at the bathroom door. “I think I’m starting to get it. In the shower a little bit ago, I was considering shaving my pussy for you, but then I wasn’t sure if you’d like that or not, so I didn’t. It would’ve been nice to know what you preferred. In a way that kind of goes under the category of rules, right?” She braved a glance back into his piercing gaze.
He smirked. “See—you’re getting it already, and yes . . . That falls under the rules. I’ll be inspecting your body regularly to make sure you’re keeping your end of the deal.”
“Oh, gaaawd,” she groaned. “Inspecting?” Her pussy clenched in response to that word.
“I’ll show you the position I’ll expect you take on, and I’ll perform inspections randomly.”
Her mouth watered. “So, I’ll be naked for this?”
“Stark.” He smirked.
“But you’ll be dressed?”
“Of course.” He ran his hands over her shoulders, then up the sides of her throat. His hands cupped her jaw, and his thumbs ran over the edge. “You’ll be naked quite a bit.”
“And you’ll be dressed quite a bit?” Her eyes narrowed, though she smiled. “Already I’m seeing an imbalance here, Sir.”
“Tell me how unfair it is—please, and I’ll show you the cracks. I’ll always make sure you’re soft limits and hard limits are understood and honored.” He grabbed her hands, ran his lips between her fingers and kissed her palms. His eyes went really heavy and dark. “You have your scent on this hand.” He dropped her le
ft hand like it was useless and landed several spine-melting, open-mouthed kisses on the inside of her right. Her fingers twitched several times, in time with her clit.
Were they rigged together somehow? Was this normal for her to react this way?
He was so disarming, and everything came across as so new, she almost felt like she was a virgin, and he was experimenting with her. He moved slowly, too, like he knew she was feeling this way.
Her breath leaked out as her mind whirred.
She didn’t deserve this kind of tenderness from this seductive, skilled man. He deserved better.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” his soft voice said, comforting her.
He leaned over and kissed her forehead.
“How is it?” Her tone was a little biting.
“This is a lot to take in.” His hands were back on her shoulders.
“You called me sweetheart,” she said, her voice flat.
“I did.”
“Don’t call me that—I don’t deserve it.” She shifted her eyes to her lap. Every inch of her gut told her he wasn’t going to agree to this, and it would probably make him angry, but if he wanted to know upfront what made her uncomfortable—this did. Pono didn’t use soft endearments like that.
She hadn’t with him either.
“You do deserve it. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he told her, and with soft, but firm hands, he cupped the sides of her head and tipped her gaze up again.
“How can you say that? I have the worst—” She cut herself off for a second, but he gave her a look that said to continue, so she went on. “I betray Pono’s memory by comparing him in my head to you. It’s not fair to him because I was married to the guy and he doesn’t compare. You do things to me—I feel things for you I never did with him. My body reacts in ways I can’t even explain.”
“You’d end this for him?” His voice broke and went up in pitch significantly.
“No. I don’t care what he thinks about me anymore—why would I when he’s gone?”
“Then why? Because it sounds like you’re talking yourself out of being with me, and if that’s the case, I’d at least like to know why—what’s getting in the way.”
“I feel completely out of control—have no idea what to do with myself. You move an inch, and I jump in the same direction. It’s repulsive the way I practically kiss your feet when I barely know you.” She ran her sweating palms down her shorts.
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