by Erin Noelle
“What do you mean by submit?” She crinkles her forehead up, perplexed. “I’m not looking for a relationship where I’m not free to express my opinion or have to ask permission to do anything, and I’m damn sure not interested in being subjected to emotional belittling or physical pain—in or out of the bedroom.” The level of concern in her voice escalates with each word.
“Blake, Blake, calm down.” I attempt to soothe her by tenderly caressing the back of her hand with my thumb. “I’m not asking you to not have an opinion, and though I’d like to know where you are most of the time, you don’t have to ask me for permission. More importantly, I have no intentions of tearing you down or hurting you,” I explain. “On the contrary, I want to build you up and worship you. All I ask is for you to have a little faith in me to begin with, and as the trust between us grows, you’ll see I only want what’s best for you.”
“I still don’t understand what you’d get out of this arrangement?”
“You, sweet girl, just you,” I reply honestly. “I’m a different person when I’m around you—peaceful, yet energized, surreal, yet aware—and I crave that feeling. Let me take care of you; it will make me happy.”
Dropping her shoulders, she exhales loudly and sits quietly for a few minutes staring at her wine glass. Finally, she speaks. “Okay, I’m willing to try, but I’m making no promises. I will most likely screw this up in some way.”
“Neither of us is perfect. We’ll both make mistakes,” I contend.
“Wait, I’m not done.” This time, she’s the one to take my hands in hers, interlacing our fingers. “You’re asking me to grant you a little trust, and I need the same in return. There are parts of my past I can’t talk about, and I can’t talk about why that is either, so please don’t pressure me. This is a deal breaker. You’re welcome to ask me questions, but if I tell you I can’t answer, drop it and don’t be mad. I will treat you with the same respect regarding people and events from before we met. You were the one who told me not to be a prisoner of my past, and I’m going to need your help to break free from it, not return to it.”
Willing to concede this topic for now, I grin wickedly at her, hoping to bring her mind back to the here and now. “Deal. Now bring your little ass over here so I can touch you,” I say, patting my upper thigh.
Her face lights up as she slides off the stool and bounces over to me. Looping my arms around her waist, I pull her into my lap and nuzzle the side of her neck. “No questions or discussions about any of that tonight,” I promise. “I want to give you a sneak peek of how I plan to take care of you for many nights to come.”
Tensing slightly at my comment, I clarify myself. “No sex tonight, sweet girl,” I whisper against the soft skin directly under her earlobe. “At least, not for me. Tonight is about you relaxing and reveling in the sense of touch.”
She leans her head back on my shoulder and tilts it slightly to face me. Placing a single delicate kiss on the corner of my mouth, she gives me all of the go-ahead I need. In one sweeping motion, I stand up and scoop her into my arms, taking us both upstairs to my bed. I can’t ever remember being so fucking excited about knowing I’m not going to get to come.
I’VE GOT TO START SOMEWHERE, and I’m taking off in a full-sprint with the intimidating and impassioned Madden Decker. Still unsure if I’m making the best decision, I agree to make my best attempt to whatever this arrangement of sorts he’s proposing. I’m still worried and hesitant, to say the least, but I can’t deny his claim of the enigmatic draw we feel towards each other. I know if I walk away without taking him up on his offer, I’ll always wonder about the should’ve, could’ve, would’ves. At worst, it can’t be as horrid as my previous situation, and at best…well, I’m not sure, but my imagination can come up with some pretty remarkable scenarios.
When we reach Madden’s bedroom, he smoothly lowers me to the ground so that I’m standing before him. Nervous, yet eager, my eyes are locked on his, waiting for his instructions on what to do. Hastily, he yanks his t-shirt over his head, leaving him only in his jeans, barefooted. I lift my hand to touch his smooth chest, but he catches my hand in his and shakes his head no.
“All about you tonight, sweet girl,” he reminds me before kissing my hand and releasing it back to my side.
Grasping the bottom hem of my blouse, he languidly raises it up, first revealing the damaged skin of my abdomen, followed by my white lacy bra, and finally, he frees my body from it. His nimble fingers travel to my pants, where he makes quick work of the button and zipper, and then crouches down in front of me as they drop to the floor, helping me step out of them. Returning to his full height, he moves back from me slightly and allows his eyes to brazenly roam the length of my barely-covered body. Feeling over-exposed under his scrutinizing gaze, I instinctively wrap my arms in front of my chest and the lower part of my stomach, but again, he stops me.
“No hiding, Blake. I want to see you…all of you,” he says in a rumbling baritone as he peels my limbs away from my body. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
Taking my hand in his, he leads me over to the bed and instructs me to lie down in the middle, propping my head up with several pillows. My entire body is trembling with nervous enthusiasm. He walks to the end of the mattress, crawls up on the elevated surface, and grabs ahold of my left foot. Slowly, methodically, he begins to massage the arch in my foot, applying the perfect amount of pressure to make me moan in delight. He’s watching me watch him, his eyes darkening to a cobalt blue, and as he gradually begins to work his kneading digits up to my calf and behind my knee, the tight bundle of nerves coiled up that is body begins to unravel.
His strong fingers walk their way up to my thigh, not missing an inch of flesh, and the closer he gets to the apex of my legs, all of the moisture in my body travels to meet his touch, leaving my mouth dry and my panties wet. Mere inches before he reaches my aching sex, he removes his hands from my leg and my eyes fly up to meet his, confused and frustrated. Smirking at my reaction, he moves back down the bed and lifts my other foot, starting the entire process over. I lean my head back into the pillow and close my eyes, allowing the gratification of his touch to spread throughout me. Again, right before I think he’s going to touch me where my thighs meet, he withdraws his hands.
Groaning with exasperation, he chuckles softly and travels up my body, placing sensual, open-mouthed kisses from just below my belly button all the way up to my neck. The fire his mouth and hands ignite inside of me is burning out of control by the time he’s hovering over me, face-to-face.
“Pleasure, my sweet girl, is ninety percent anticipation,” he whispers to me, our noses touching and gazes firmly locking on each other.
Then, a moment occurs just before he lowers his lips to mine, when nothing else in the world matters—not what happened in the past, or what may happen in the future.
A split second of pure, soul-searching, heart-stopping perfection.
Me giving myself to him…completely, entirely.
A moment so brief in time, but so profound in intensity.
And once his mouth reaches mine, nothing will ever be the same.
I am his. Willingly.
Our lips meet in a searing embrace, desirous and hungry, each claiming the other as their own. Mouths part, tongues collide, and everything around me becomes hazy. Burying my fingers in his messy, sandy hair, one of his hands slides up to my neck as the other finds my breast, dipping underneath the concealing fabric and sweeping over the swell of flesh. Moaning into his mouth as his thumb brushes across my hardened nipple, he smiles slyly and pulls back a bit, gauging my reaction. With one hand, he reaches around my back, unhooks the clasp, and tosses the bra to the floor. Sucking and lightly nipping at my full bottom lip, his hand alternates back and forth between my boobs, rolling my freed nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Arching my back into his heavenly touch, his mouth begins to descend to my jawline, neck, and finally lands on my chest. He draws one nipple in-between his teeth, and hi
s tongue teasingly flicks back and forth over it as his hand continues to work the other.
“Your skin tastes so damn good. I want to kiss every part of your body,” he murmurs with his head buried in my chest.
The desirous craving in my body rapidly grows into a ravenous hunger, and without realizing it, I’ve wrapped my legs around his hips and am rubbing my throbbing pussy against the erect cock hidden under his jeans. Halting his oral ministrations, he lifts his body up so I can no longer press against him. I whimper at the loss of friction, and he laughs huskily.
“Slow and steady. Let me take care of you,” he warns.
Relaxing back into the sheets, I nod and croak out, “I’m sorry.”
Mercifully, he doesn’t make me wait long. Lowering his head back to my belly, he trails kisses in a random pattern around my cuts as one of his hands slips between our bodies. After lazily tracing the elastic edge of my panties for a few minutes, his fingers slide inside the waistband, tenderly brushing back and forth over the delicate flesh of my lower abdomen. As they continue to travel farther south, my entire body tightens in anticipation, wanting nothing more than his hands on my most sensitive spot.
Peering up at me through his thick lashes, he flashes me a knowing smile. “Hands on the headboard, and I want you to lie back and close your eyes. Focus on the feeling, nothing else. Does that sound okay?”
“Yes,” I reply, doing exactly as he says, removing my hands from his hair and grasping onto the wood above my head.
“Yes, what?” he growls, the vibration from his voice reverberating through my frame.
“Yes, Sir,” I answer quickly, my core flooding as I say it.
“That’s my sweet girl,” he praises me. Fuck, that turns me on.
Seconds later, his fingers are gently grazing my damp folds, up and down, down and up. Parting my swollen lips, he begins to move his finger in a slow, circular pattern over my clit. I’m afraid I’m going to come immediately, but he knows exactly how much pressure to apply and how to build me up before bringing me back down. Withdrawing his hand for a quick moment to slide my panties down my legs, he quickly resumes his sensual assault. Gliding his fingers down to my drenched opening, he dips one finger inside me, then drags the sticky juices of my arousal back up to my clit and begins rubbing my tiny bundle of nerves again.
My knees fall open, giving him complete access to me, and I forget to care about modesty. His touch makes me feel things I’ve never experienced, and I’m drunk with lust. Back and forth, his fingers move from my wet pussy to my throbbing clit over and over until I’m sure I’m about to explode. I’m a writhing mess as I grind shamelessly onto his hand. When he adds a second finger deep inside me, I lift my hips and moan loudly, unable to hold it in anymore.
“Madden, please, oh please,” I call out as he increases the rhythm of his digits thrusting in and out of me, while his thumb plays with my pebbled nub. Unable to hold back any longer, I clench my legs together and allow the ecstasy to claim me. Bright colors pass through my closed lids as I unfurl on his hand, my legs quivering uncontrollably and my lungs panting for breath.
His mouth is on me before I even come down from my high, lapping at my juices and sucking on my overly-sensitive clit. As his tongue plunges deep inside my fiery core, I’m catapulted straight into another orgasm, or maybe it’s the same one—I don’t know and I don’t care. All that matters is the onslaught of pure bliss pumping through my veins, setting my body ablaze.
Eventually, the blurred haze begins to clear, and I release my hands from the headboard, which I didn’t realize I was still holding onto for dear life. Feeling Madden’s presence next to me, I gradually open my eyes and turn my head to look at him. Sexier than I’ve ever seen him, he’s lying on his side with his head propped up on his hand, gazing down at me with his twinkling blue eyes and an impish grin smeared across his face.
“How was that for your sneak peek? Want to change your mind about sticking around?” he teases.
Lifting my head, I gently press my lips to his in an appreciative kiss. “I think you were the one doing all the sneaking and peeking,” I reply playfully. His mouth is still sticky from the remnants of my orgasm, and without thinking, I lick the residue off of my own lips, curious about how I taste.
“Sweet as sin,” he whispers gruffly, answering the question floating around in my head. “Best thing I’ve ever tasted, and it’s all mine.”
Goose bumps cover my exposed skin, partly due to being naked and chilly, and the other part because of his flattering words. After tonight, I’ll be okay if he never gets his fill of me; what he made me feel was almost otherworldly.
“You’re cold. Let me get you some clothes to put on,” he comments as I shiver beside him.
“No, it’s okay. I can put my clothes back on,” I contend. “It’s getting late, so I need to head home soon anyway.”
“Home? I don’t think so. You’re sleeping right here in this bed tonight. Next to me.”
“But I have work in the morning, and I don’t have any clothes to wear.”
“We can get up early so you can stop by your place to change on the way to the office.” He raises his eyebrows as he explains the plan, and I know better than to argue. I’m happy he wants me to stay, but naturally a little apprehensive as well. My biggest fear is having him witness one of my nightmares, or me talking in my sleep and revealing information about my past life.
“Stop overthinking it,” he says softly. Reaching up, he lightly sweeps his fingers across each of the features of my face—first, around my eyes, then down the bridge of my nose, and finally, across my bottom lip. “Since I’ve met you, you’ve had this impervious shield wrapped tightly around you, and though I don’t know who or what caused you to hide behind it, I understand it’s for your self-preservation and protection. However, tonight, I feel like I’ve finally cracked through the density of the darkness, even if it’s just a little bit, and I’m not ready to let go of that quite yet. Please, stay the night with me, sweet girl. It would please me greatly.”
I want nothing more than to please him, especially after what he just did for me, so I nod and smile shyly. “Okay, I’ll stay if you’ll let me borrow a t-shirt to sleep in.”
Rolling off the opposite side of the bed, he retrieves a shirt for me as I locate my panties and glide them back up my legs. Once I’m dressed for bed, I wait for him to tell me what side I’m supposed to sleep on, or how all this works. He loses his jeans, leaving him only in his black boxer briefs, and I marvel at his overall handsomeness. He climbs back onto the bed and situates himself on the left side, holding the sheet out for me to crawl over and join him in the spooning position. Careful not to touch my wounds, he loosely wraps his arm around my chest and nuzzles his face into the back of my neck.
“Goodnight, sweet girl.”
“Goodnight, Sir.”
THE ALARM ON MY PHONE goes off at six o’clock sharp, waking me from a restful sleep. Still swathed in Madden’s arms, I carefully slither out from underneath him, trying not to wake him up. Apparently, I didn’t have any night terrors, nor did I try to attack him or myself in my slumbered-state, which happily makes three nights in a row. Pressing buttons on the touch screen until the damn thing finally shuts up, I slide off the bed and head downstairs towards the kitchen in desperate need of water for my parched mouth.
As I near the bottom of the staircase, I hear a female voice echoing through the lower level of the house, and the smell of bacon frying grows stronger. Alarmed, I freeze dead in my tracks, trying to figure out what is going on. Listening carefully, her voice becomes clearer, and I realize she’s not singing in English. The foreign words sound eerily familiar, and all of a sudden, I can’t breathe. Collapsing on the stairs, everything fades to black.
“Sorria e aja como você se estivesse feliz,” Ish warned me through gritted teeth as we posed for our wedding pictures. “Me beija. Agora.”
Scared of what would happen if I didn’t, I kissed him for the c
ameras, put on my fakest smile, and did my best to pretend I was happy in front of our families and friends. It had only been a couple of weeks since the bloody episode in Bloomington, and he and I had hardly said ten words to one another since. Our normal schedules resumed—I made his breakfast, he’d leave for work and not come home until late in the night, and most nights, he’d take what he wanted from my body. I’d bury my face in the pillow and cry until he was finished, and then scoot as far away from him as possible in the bed to sleep.
The wedding ceremony went on as planned; Brandon walked me down the aisle, unknowingly handing me over to the devil, and everyone clapped after we said our I dos. The reception was an interesting mix of my small family and high school friends, his mom, who spoke to no one, and his dad, along with their ‘extended’ Italian family. Take away his mom and the twenty or so guests there for me, and it could’ve been a scene directly from The Godfather.
The following morning, we left for our week-long honeymoon at Ponta dos Ganchos, the exclusive, adults-only resort in Santa Catarina, Brazil. Because we were returning to her homeland, his mom accompanied us, which I was secretly thankful for, hoping she would serve as a shield of sorts for his brutal behavior. However, once we arrived, we left her to stay with family, while he and I took a private helicopter to get to the remote resort.
Our first couple of days there were pretty uneventful. The place itself was spectacular, with lush grounds and beautiful private villas. We spent most of our time lying out on the beach, and eating and drinking at our leisure. Conversation between us was still strained at best, but he made an effort to be nice to me, complimenting me on how I looked in the thong bikini he insisted I wear, and telling me that marrying me was the best thing he’d ever done. I tried to be as pleasant as possible, not wanting to upset him, fearful of the repercussions if I did. On the afternoon of the third day, I walked up to the bar at the beach to get us both a drink, when a nice-looking guy I’d seen around the premises said hello to me and asked me how I was enjoying my vacation. Being polite, I answered him and made a little small talk as I waited on the bartender to make the drinks. When I returned to Ish at the lounge chairs, I knew something was up, but couldn’t see the look in his eyes because they were hidden behind his sunglasses.