My hips slap noisily against her ass and my finger keeps pace, driving her to gasping, panting breaths mingled with surprised moans and sexy little screams. “Cum for me, pet. Fucking cum all over my cock.”
Less than a minute after she said “not yet,” I have her slumping against the ropes that hold her, mouth held open in silent ecstasy as I feel the telltale clenching and relaxing of her walls as an orgasm rips through her.
“Remember that,” I say, not stopping my pace, only slowing it while she recovers. “You cum when I want you to. No sooner, no later. Your body belongs to me. You belong to me.”
I keep a slow and steady pace while the shivers of her orgasm run their course. She feels so out-of-this-world I know I could cum right now if I wanted to, but that would be like chugging a bottle of fine wine. No. I’m going to make this last as long as I possibly can, even if that’s not going to be as long as I’d like.
I grip her hips, loving how her body feels so small in my hands. I pull her ass into me, using her like a fucktoy as I increase my pace, driving my cock as deeply into her as I can. She’s moaning now--not the soft, sexy and restrained moans from earlier, but full-throated, no reserves fuck me moans.
I love the feeling of her pussy gripping me, and I love the way her body feels against my hands, but nothing threatens to push me over the edge before I’m ready than the sound of her reckless pleasure. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, like my own pleasure is just an afterthought when I’m with Lysa, like the only thing that can get me off is seeing her arousal, but my body is feeding off her lust like it’s a fucking nuclear reactor and pushing me to heights I never knew I could reach.
My eyes squeeze shut and my forehead pinches together as I try desperately to fight off the rush of my orgasm, but it’s a losing battle.
“Oh God, Leo!” gasps Lysa.
And with those three words I’m undone. My entire body tenses like I’ve been electrocuted, every muscle contracts until I might as well be made of stone. If every orgasm I had before was like a bomb, this is an atom-bomb--a goddamn extinction-level explosion.
When I pull myself out of her, some of my cum leaks from her pussy and runs down her thigh. I enjoy the sight of it, of knowing I marked her in such an intimate way.
Once I’ve gathered myself enough to trust my legs, I help her out of the ropes. She watches me with the most adorably shy expression until I’ve finished. I see her rub her wrist and quickly take her arm to look at the spot. I gently rub my thumb over the indentation left by the ropes. “Does it hurt?” I ask.
“No,” she says with a quick smile. “It feels fine.”
She reaches to rub the cum from the inside of her leg away once her hands are free.
“Leave it,” I command. “You can wash it away when you’ve showered tonight, but no sooner. I want you to feel my cum on you until then, to remember how I fucked you and marked you.”
She nods quickly, pulling her hand away.
“Let me put some lotion on you, just incase.”
I liberally apply lotion to all the areas where the ropes were against her skin and then start getting dressed. “You can dress again,” I say when I see her just standing there awkwardly.
“You kind of destroyed all my clothes,” she says. She’s standing self-consciously with one arm over her nipples and the other covering between her legs, but she gives me a mischievous little smile that contrasts so perfectly with her shy body language. I want to unravel her, to spend every minute of every day with her until I know her mind as well as I know my own and until her body is like an open book to me. Fuck. I want it so badly it hurts.
“Wait here,” I say, doing up the last button of my shirt.
It doesn’t take me long to find an employee outside. They are used to situations like this, so when I tell her to bring me clothes in Lysa’s size and put it on my tab, she doesn’t so much as give me a sideways glance before scurrying off to do as she’s told.
I find Lysa admiring some of the tools on the wall when I come back, and I take my time enjoying the view of her bare body and perfectly round ass before she notices I’ve returned. She jumps a little when she sees me, covering herself again.
“I’ll have to teach you not to hide yourself in front of me,” I say, gently taking her hands and peeling them away from her body. “Even if you weren’t absolutely perfect--which you are--I’d accept you. Every inch of you. Every last imperfection and every little flaw would only make you that much more my own.”
“If I had any imperfections,” she adds with a sarcastic bite to her voice.
“I plan to enjoy looking for them, but I haven’t found any yet.”
She laughs softly. “Stick around then.”
“Careful,” I say, moving to wrap my arms around her and press her soft body to mine. “You say something like that and I’m going to take it as an invitation.”
“Maybe it is,” she says.
Lysa and I sit beside her mom’s bed with no sound but the steady beep of a heart monitor and the distant shuffle of feet from the hallway outside. It’s overcast outside, which isn’t doing much to help the dreary mood in the room.
It has already been a week since I took Lysa to “The Zoo,” but it took that long to get her mom to agree to go to Dr. Fairchild’s specialty center. Lysa has had to do all the convincing, because her mom--Rachel, I finally learned--has held a bit of a grudge about the “stunt” I pulled. In retrospect, I was an idiot for thinking it was a good idea. Leave it to me to assume she would want the best treatment money could buy.
Rachel is sleeping peacefully right now, which Dr. Fairchild said would be the main side effect of his treatment for the next couple weeks. Drowsiness didn’t sound half-bad compared to the side effects of chemo, though, which helped us convince Rachel to give this a try.
“It’s strange,” I say softly. “I’ve tried not to let money shape me, yet trying to have your mom taken here makes me think it has blinded me in more ways than I like to admit. It didn’t even occur to me that she wouldn’t want the best treatment money could buy.”
Lysa squeezes my hand. “You have never struck me as the stereotypical hot, rich guy. I think you handle it well.”
“I haven’t struck you as hot? Hmm,” I say with a grin.
She smiles. “You know what I mean.”
I feel my smile fade and nod to my lap. Maybe it’s being in a hospital and seeing Rachel struggling to hold on that has me thinking of my life as a whole right now. Maybe it’s knowing a new life is growing inside Lysa, and I’m going to be responsible for helping to shape our little baby into a good person. “I grew up poor, you know,” I say. I feel oddly self-conscious talking about myself like this. Jayce and I don’t even talk about it. We don’t talk about our parents or our past, and I definitely don’t talk about it with others, either.
Lysa says nothing, but I see the way her head turns and her eyes widen just slightly.
“Jayce and I were orphans for as long as I can remember. My dad was never in the picture, and my mom died a couple months after she had Jayce. I was only four, but I can still remember it so well. Too well.” A shiver runs through me. I don’t know why I’m dredging this old, painful memory up now, but it feels like the last piece--as if I was resisting what I knew had to happen before Lysa and I would truly be ready for each other. She has to know my story. All of it. “It was an infection from the c-section, and she didn’t have the money to go to a doctor to get it taken care of the right way. She was trying to do what was best for Jayce and I by saving what little she had for us.”
I close my eyes against the wave of bitterness and anger that rises up in me. My eyes sting, but I do what I’ve always done when I think of her. I wall it off with anger, with motivation to push on and conquer until I forget. “She traded her life for money to pay the bills for a few more weeks. For some fucking canned food and diapers. She had to make that choice because we didn’t have money and because my dad wasn’t there.”
>
I look at Lysa, hoping she understands without me having to say it, without me having to drag the words out that I know will only make the pain burn deeper.
“That’s why you weren’t willing to let me go when you knew I was pregnant?” she asks. “Leo…” Her voice is tender and soothing. Her eyes feel like a refuge I can dive into if I need to, like waiting life rafts that give me the confidence to push on farther, because I know they’ll be there if I need them.
“Part of it,” I say. “I swore a long time ago if I ever had a child, he’d know his father, no matter what. I also swore I’d never let anyone I cared about suffer because of money.” My eyes move to Rachel, who still sleeps peacefully. “I’m not trying to excuse what I did. I just wanted you to know my reasons came from a different place than you probably thought.”
“Leo,” she says. “I had no idea.”
I know Lysa is right for me because she doesn't try to talk to me about it more. She doesn’t ask questions or pry. She just lays her head on my chest and puts her hand on my leg, idly rubbing her fingers along it. Her touch is more comfort than words could ever be. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I can imagine a future where the pain of my past doesn’t jab into me like a needle. With Lysa, I can imagine it.
“I want to show you,” I say suddenly. “I want to take you to the orphanage. The place I grew up.”
She lifts her head to look at me, but nods quickly. “I’d like that.”
“Go on, you lovebirds,” groans Rachel, who doesn’t look at all like she has just woken from a long sleep. “It’s hard to pretend to sleep when you’re gushing all over each other in here.”
“Mom!” says Lysa with a startled laugh. “You should’ve told us you were awake.”
“If I had done that, I wouldn’t have learned this boyfriend of yours isn’t a total asshole. He’s just a prick.”
Lysa looks at me with complete seriousness and whispers, “That’s good! Prick from her is almost a compliment.”
I grin. “Thank you, I think.”
“You’re damn right, thank you,” she says. “Now get out of here!”
15
Lysa
We get out of Leo’s car in front of a big brick building that looks like it was just painted. It’s in the poor part of the city, so the fresh paint stands out immediately where everything nearby has definitely seen better days. We’re greeted at the door by a stern woman who wears a long, black dress that reminds me of something a nun might wear, but her head is uncovered.
Her eyes light up when she sees Leo. I’m surprised when she reaches out to him and gives him a tight hug with several pats on the back.
Leo laughs a little. “You still recognize me?” he asks incredulously.
“I’d know that little face anywhere,” she says, pinching his cheek and smiling up at him. “You’ve grown so big.” She pauses to smooth her dress and take in the sight of him. “Why haven’t you come? We’ve all wanted to see you so much. The children want to thank you. We want to thank you.”
Leo nods, lowering his eyes and reaching for my hand. “We’re here now. Can we come in?”
“Please,” she says, motioning for us to come in.
I’m surprised by how well-kept the place is. “It’s nicer than I expected,” I say.
He nods with approval, looking around in a way that makes me think he had more than a little something to do with the upkeep. The woman leads us into a big cafeteria, where at least thirty children ranging from ages three or four to late teens are chatting and eating from trays. Leo and I draw curious eyes, and Leo draws nervous giggles and whispers from some of the older girls, but none seem to recognize him.
“Would it be okay if I took Lysa around by myself for a bit?” asks Leo.
“Of course,” says the woman, who takes a step back and lets us continue walking through the cafeteria.
Leo takes me up a staircase, where we pass a narrow hallway lined with doors. “This is where the bedrooms are. Jayce and I shared a room at the end with a handful of other kids. It wasn’t that bad until someone got sick. But I brought you here because I wanted to show you my favorite place. Come,” he says.
He takes me up the stairs until we reach a doorway that leads to the roof access. We’re immediately buffeted by a gust of wind outside, but the air is just the right temperature and the sun is hidden behind the clouds. I look around for something significant--some sign of this being his special place, but I only see the flat roof covered in gravel. A small waist-high concrete wall lines the section of the roof with access, while the rest is a few feet down beyond the wall and too sloped to walk on.
When I look at Leo’s face though, I can immediately see the impact this place has on him. He has wandered to the edge of the barrier, where his hands are planted. He looks out over the city with a distant but almost pained expression. “I never thought,” he says quietly. “Never in a millions years. I didn’t think Jayce and I would make it out of here most days. I’d come up here at night and I’d just look toward the nicer part of town. I’d imagine there was someone looking back at me from one of those skyscrapers. Some perfect parent who would feel how much we needed help and come to rescue us out of this shit.”
He laughs bleakly. “They never came. I guess that was when I learned if I wanted anything, I had to take it. I had to grip it by the fucking horns and wrestle the life out of it until it was mine. And I got good at it, too. But sometimes I think I’ve been fighting and struggling all this time just to prove a point--to say a big fuck you to the world for taking my mom and giving me a nonexistent father. Then there’s you,” he says, turning to look at me.
He looks gorgeous now. Heart-breakingly perfect, even. A sliver of the setting sun slips through the clouds and gives his skin a radiant red glow that seems to intensify the green in his eyes until they are sparkling like polished jade.
“You understand what I’ve been through,” he says. “You’re going through it. And you’ve been doing it all by yourself. I thought I had it hard, but I had a brother to lean on. You’ve had no one, and I want that to change. I want to be there for you every fucking step of the way. I want you to be able to relax, to enjoy yourself, to live a little.”
It would be easy to write off Leo’s words as false promises, to tell myself they’re too good to be true or to turn this moment into an “as soon as.” As soon as I’ve got my shit together, I’ll be ready for a guy like Leo to sweep me off my feet. Or in this case, to tie my feet to the bed. A small smile creeps across my lips because I know I’ve turned a corner. I don’t know when the shift inside happened or when the woman I’ve been trying to be for the past few days took a stronger hold, but I feel it now. I feel it so powerfully that I know it’s real.
“I want that too.” They are the words I’ve held in for what feels like ages, even if it has only been days. The words I knew would be like a key to unlock the final door between us.
I see it in Leo’s face--he knows it too. I expect a hug or a kiss, but instead, he falls to one knee. He digs something out of his pocket and I recognize it immediately. The case he had the collar in from before. He snaps it open and I nearly sink to my knees when I see what’s inside. The collar is there, but there’s a ring, too. A ring that matches the collar. An engagement ring.
“I’m offering you the choice,” he says quietly. “Be my wife. Be my pet. Be both. Be neither. You know what I want, but I’ll have you however I can, Lysa. I just want you.”
A tear rolls down my cheek, startling me. I’ve never been a crier, but I feel like I understand Leo now. I don’t just see the dominant man from the lobby who brought a side of me out I never knew I had. I don’t just see the gorgeous face or the money. I think back to when he said we all just wear masks for the outside world--that what matters is beneath it. For the first time, I think I see the Leo behind the mask, the full view he has been trying to give me all along.
There isn’t a shred of doubt when I reach first for the co
llar and bring it to my neck, biting my lip and looking into Leo’s eyes. For some reason it feels like I should take the collar first, that if I’m going to be his pet--his slave--I should don that mantle before I take the ring.
He smirks as he stands to help clasp it behind my neck.
It’s snug, but not so tight it feels like it’s cutting off my circulation. Just tight enough to remind me, like having part of Leo with me at all times--a possessive little chain to let the world know I’m claimed and spoken for. I put my fingertips up to the lock, brushing the cold metal before Leo threads the other end of the collar into it and turns the key, locking it in place. He gives me a mischievous look as he tucks the key in his jacket pocket. “Here’s to hoping you never ask for the key.”
He goes to close the box, but I put my fingers to the back of his hand, stopping him. “I wasn’t done, sir,” I add with a curl of my lips.
He falls to his knee again so quickly I nearly laugh. I hold out my hand, waiting as he slides the beautiful ring on my finger. It’s dazzling in even the diminishing sunlight, catching every bit of light and reflecting it in a blinding, prismatic burst of light.
He brings me in close with a tender hand at the back of my head, kissing me slowly and soft at first. He breaks off the kiss to pull me in for a tight embrace with his fingers threaded through my hair. I feel so much in his touch. The relief. The happiness.
And I feel it too. Every bit of it. I fought letting him in for what feels like a lifetime, even if it was just a few days. But for the first time since he took me out of that hotel lobby and rocked my world, I feel at peace--completely at peace. I put a hand to my stomach and smile. Leo may be intense. His sexual tastes may still make me blush. But he’s a good man. A great man--one I can’t wait to call husband, the father of my child, and Master.
Epilogue - Leo
Two years later
Knocked Up by the Master: A BDSM Secret Baby Romance Page 13