Starting slowly, he worked the flogger up and down the backs of each of her thighs, over her ass, until the skin blushed. Once she was warmed up, he used a left-right rhythm down each thigh without a lot of force, then whipped the fronds over her ass sharply. She howled in response, her butt bouncing pleasantly as the sting hit home.
Softly down the thighs, fast strike on the ass. Over and over.
By strike five, her juices glistened on her swollen sex, dribbling down over her exposed anus and beyond. By strike eight, she was humping the air. Strike nine bought her so close to orgasm, Thane was shocked she didn't take the opportunity to disobey him. Strike ten didn't connect with her ass.
Thane snapped the flogger down over her pussy, pulling the swing so the rubber tips barely grazed her tender flesh. They did, however, catch on the clamp. A firm tug and the teeth popped free, eliciting a high, almost soundless scream. Grinning, he tossed aside the flogger and pulled a condom from his back pocket. He ripped it open, unbuttoned his jeans, and sheathed himself in the few seconds it took for Connie to register the sudden surge of blood back into her clit.
Stepping forward, he lined himself up with her cunt and pressed inside as the first spasms rippled. He thrust carefully, feeling her stretch around his girth. He wasn't overly gifted with length, topping out at seven inches, but he'd been told his girth could be…uncomfortable to take the first few times. Connie wasn't a virgin, thank Christ, but by God, she could have fooled him as tight muscles clamped down on him, clenching and releasing, sucking him in deeper.
“Fucking hell, woman,” he growled, wrapping an arm around each leg. Driving in to the hilt, he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth until her orgasm swept through her and the aftershocks began to fade. He needed to feel it again. When he opened his eyes, Connie's were fluttering shut. “Oh hell, no, sugar. Don't you dare fall asleep on me.”
His sub was wet enough withdrawing felt like gliding. He lunged forward, filling her again. Satisfaction ripped through him when she cried out, her eyes popping open with shock. Oh, now she knew he was there. Could feel him rutting into her, claiming her. Harder, faster, the sounds of flesh on flesh almost obscene.
“Thane!”
He gripped her legs, hoisting her an inch higher and changing the angle just enough to hit the right spot. Just as hard, just as fast. Her thighs began to quake uncontrollably, tensing as her pussy strangled his cock, fisting around his shaft like a noose. Grinding his groin against her clit, he hammered into her until his balls felt as though they were stuck in a vacuum.
One long thrust took him home. The muscles in his back and shoulders seized as he grunted and came, listening to Connie's frantic cries of release. He dug his fingers into her thighs, holding on as he rode the aftershocks teasing his cock, then sagged when her body finally stilled.
“Gonna be doing this a lot,” he warned her breathlessly. “Every goddamn day.”
“No…arguments…here…”
*
She hadn't been this well fucked since…hell, she couldn't remember. Atticus had taken her apart at the seams only a week ago, but compared to Thane, sex with him was akin to spring cleaning, blowing out the cobwebs and spit shining some of her antiques.
Thane hadn't bothered cleaning at all. He'd lined the cellar with explosives and blown her sex house to smithereens.
Were her eyes still rolling in their sockets? Connie blinked, focused on the spread vee of her legs in the air and the almost fully dressed man bracing himself with her thighs. Groaning under her breath, she tried to recall where she'd left her marbles, because as far as her brain was concerned, they were scattered over the floor, rolling into corners and bouncing off the skirting boards.
She had to get up, she decided. She needed a shower to wash away the sweat dewed over her skin. Sticky, cooling sweat. Hot, tight skin. An odd smile curved her lips, almost lopsided, as she lost a few seconds watching her breasts rise and fall in quick, hypnotic movements. Up and down, up and down. Her lips parted on an oooooh of discomfort she didn't understand when the man between her legs eased away. Slipped out of her.
“Sugar, you still with me?”
When her legs were uncuffed and lowered, Connie tried to sit up. Frowning, she tugged on the straps pinning her hands above her head. “I'm tied up? Tied down. Tied up?” Neither sounded right to her. “Tied. Tye-duh. Huh.”
“Yeah, you're not with me at all.” Strong hands rubbed down her legs from thighs to toes. Part of her realized he was checking her circulation was intact after having her feet above her head for so long, but the rest of her just appreciated the strength in his fingers as they kneaded her soles. “Rest your head back, Connie, and take a nap. I'll have you free in just a minute.”
“You're a good boy, Thane,” she muttered, still puzzling over the cuffs around her wrists. When did they get there? Her head did indeed rest against the covers as though obeying his gentle order, but she didn't nap. Her eyes watched him move around the bed with quiet competence, removing straps and cuffs, then popped wide when she noticed the surprise he'd been hiding in his pants. “Well, well. Someone brought me a lollipop,” she exclaimed in delight.
He blushed faintly, hastily tucking his cock back into his pants and fastening them. “No candy for you tonight, sugar.” His hand cupped the side of her face. “Eyes are starting to clear, that's good. Let me get you a bottle of water, then you can take a few minutes to regain your senses before we go back out there.”
Ugh, she didn't want to go back out into that insanity. Connie curled her lip at him, then tucked herself into a ball and rubbed her face into the covers. She listened to him moving around, following his uneven stride around the room. Should she ask about that, about the limp? Maybe that would be rude. She didn't like being rude.
“Here, Con. Need you to sit up and drink this for me.”
Until the water touched her lips, she didn't think she was thirsty. One mouthful proved her wrong, and she clutched the bottle as she drank greedily. The cold liquid shocked her out of her orgasmic high, much to her disappointment. There was a certain…freedom in not being quite herself. With a sigh, she took stock of herself as Thane left her to drink, setting the room to rights as best he could. “You don't have to do that, Thane. Someone will be in here two minutes after we leave, to change the bed and sanitize.”
“Decided to join the adults again?” he asked, tossing a smirk over his shoulder as he folded the straps over their hook in the cupboard. “I'm just making it a little easier for whoever comes in to do their job. I'm not finished with you yet.”
Oh, she was pleased to hear it. She ran her tongue around her teeth as she stared pointedly at his crotch when he turned to watch her. Slowly, she drained the water and capped the bottle, tossing it aside. “I suppose I can be persuaded to give you permission for a second round. That's some weight you're carrying around there, Thane.”
Amber eyes darkened as he shook his head slowly. “Don't need your permission, sugar. We're still in a private space, and I'm still Master Thane here.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at her. “Get under the covers and put that pretty head down on a pillow, Connie.”
Cocking said head, she traced a droplet of water down her chest, over the curve of her breast. She fluttered her lashes at Thane, enjoying how he visibly fought not to grab her. “Have you considered I might not be tired anymore…Sir?”
The chains around his beast rattled. His chest expanded on a deep breath, then he gave her a worrying grin and stripped off his shirt. He ran his hand down over his stomach and the delicious outline of his abs. Lightly tanned skin, she noticed, covering those thick shoulders, biceps, and forearms. Not much hair, but the scattering he did have was dark enough to pop against his skin. However, it was the scar above his left pectoral muscle that caught her attention.
She sat upright, sure she was imagining things. “Is that a fucking bullet wound?”
“Front view's tidier than the rear,” he told her, apparently obliv
ious to her distress. He just rolled his shoulders, then stripped off his pants. Rather than admiring his cock, her gaze was drawn to a second, more vicious scar decimating his left thigh. “I gave you an order, Constance. I expect you to do as you're told, regardless of whether you've already had an orgasm or not. I won't repeat myself.”
“But—” Goddamn it, he couldn't just spring that on her like this. Needing to know when, why, how, she slipped off the bed, all thoughts of sass and coyness gone. A gunshot wound was serious…fuck, had someone tried to kill him? How much pain had he been in? Had he suffered alone through the experience, the rehab, or had he had someone by his side to help him survive it? “My God, Thane, how—”
He stepped forward, meeting her mid-stride. But he didn't stop, he just bent and tucked his shoulder into her stomach, and folded her in half. When she flailed, he brought his palm down on her ass sharply. “I told you I wouldn't repeat myself, Connie.” Another half-dozen swats peppered her tender cheeks, stealing what was left of her breath. “That's for using coarse language in front of your Dom.”
“Ow, goddamn it!” Connie was tempted to use his ass as an anchor as he carried her around the bed, but thought better of it when his fingers teased her crack. Instead, she trusted him to keep her safe with just an arm wrapped around her legs. He moved suddenly, making her squeak, then she was flipped backwards and falling.
Her heart plummeted.
She bounced on the mattress after what turned out to be a rather short descent. Staring up at Thane, she set aside her annoyance and went after what she believed was far more important. Hand on his wrist, she gave him a beseeching look. “I need answers, Thane. What happened to you?”
He was quiet as he settled her into bed. Once the covers were secured around her, he tapped a finger on her nose. “Yes, I got shot. A long time ago, in the line of duty, but it was just a flesh wound.” He ran his hand over the thick scarring on his leg. “My thigh took the brunt of a car accident. It hurt, it still gives me shit, but I cope. I’m fine, sugar.”
“You cope? That's it?” Perplexed, she rolled her eyes at the ceiling.
“I had surgery, then went through months of physical therapy. By myself, because that’s how we’re trained to deal with shit. We rely on our team or ourselves, and once I left the military, I headed out on my own,” he explained as he limped around the bed and climbed in next to her. “Luckily, I didn’t lose the leg, or my life, as other people who were involved in the accident did. I won’t complain for that reason alone.”
Connie slid closer to him. “What about your family?”
“My father was career military. He took enemy fire and died in the line of duty, saving three of his unit. One of the saddest days in our family history, yet one of the proudest.” His arm curled over her waist, pulling her in close. He gave a contented hum as her ass pressed against his cock, her back to his chest. “My mom remarried after about ten years. Moved to Maine with her new husband, to be close to his family. Second marriage for them both, and he had kids younger than me he needed to be involved with. It was a good choice for them.”
“Thane, I'm so—”
“Don't say you're sorry. I'm not. We stay in touch, and they visit every now and then. Mom hated Chicago, so it wasn’t often. Maybe now, she’ll feel safer when she comes to see me. The choices I made after they left for Maine led me to new places, new people. I wouldn't be here with you if she hadn't set the wheels in motion, and as much as I love my mom, I’d rather have you in my arms.” His lips pressed to her hair. “Now, shut up and take a catnap. I pushed you hard tonight and aftercare hasn't gone precisely as I imagined. We'll take thirty minutes to recharge.”
Carefully, the psychologist in her packed all the information he'd given her into a padded box and filed it away to go over at a later date. He joined the ranks of Alicia, Bodie, and Anarchy on her list of people to help. And yet, she didn't need to. He had his life organized. He was comfortable with who he was and the path he'd taken to get there.
Unlike her.
Connie frowned and held on to his arm. He was relaxed, content, and she heard his breathing transition into a slow rhythm. If he wasn't asleep, he'd certainly managed to switch his brain off for the allocated thirty minutes. She didn't possess that particular skill. Her brain was circling, dredging up flashes of memory from tonight, opening up her internal vault to study and assess her feelings.
She had submitted to him. Not just the odd bits and pieces she thought he required, but all of her. Her fingers kneaded his forearm absently, remembering the terror strangling her when he laid the blindfold over her eyes the first time. How euphoric the disbelief and relief had been as they pulsed through her veins, unleashed by his immediate reaction when she'd begged him to remove it.
She'd begged, and he'd given her a reprieve.
Evan never had, no matter how much she begged or pleaded.
Thane seemed intent on curing—no, that was the wrong word. Curing implied disease or illness, and a hard limit was neither of those things. A hard limit was an aversion, a point-blank refusal to engage in a specific activity. It didn't matter whether it was an aversion developed through fear or trauma, or simply through personal choice. He wanted to lessen the impact, she thought with satisfaction. Yes, that was better. Thane wanted to lessen the impact of the trauma Evan had inflicted on her life, and he'd done so with the utmost care.
First with the blindfold—she didn't believe she would ever be truly comfortable with someone stealing her sight, even for a short period of time, but tonight she'd had a few seconds where a sense of safety outweighed the fear—and then with the warming lube. Granted, he'd been careful. The amount he used had been just enough to tickle her arousal awake, stimulating her labia and clit with a pleasant tingle instead of fierce burning.
She was incredibly grateful he hadn't tried to use it on her ass.
Shifting restlessly, Connie banished the memory of cold fluid splashing between her buttocks, and the long, gloved finger jabbing through her sphincter as she screamed. Luckily, the burns hadn't been too bad, just enough to leave her in a great deal of pain, and lasting scars she couldn't see without a mirror.
“This isn't napping, sugar,” Thane admonished sleepily. He slipped his hand down to cover her mound, idly toying with her clit. Her little nub protested, still feeling the bite of the crocodile clamp. The dark, delicious bite she might allow herself to be talked into experiencing again. “Close your eyes and rest while we're alone. Twenty minutes isn't long enough.”
Down to twenty already? She huffed a sigh and wriggled again, liking the response his cock gave her. He was growing erect again, the shaft resting in the valley of her ass. Good length, impressive girth. Was it any wonder her pussy felt bruised and swollen after a fucking by something that thick? Not really, she answered herself, but it was exciting to get wet again at the prospect of doing it all a second time.
Her mind ticked forward to tomorrow. Monday, her most hated day of the week. Not because it was Monday and she had to go to work, but because in all her years of practicing psychology, she'd learned how hard it was for some people to spend the weekend alone. No support system, no social life, they couldn't hold on any longer.
Caera was due back in the morning, and Connie had blotted out a definite two-hour block of time for the girl. They were working on eating and sleeping journals, which Caera dutifully filled in, but Connie understood she was fudging the hours in the sleep journal. Either to downplay her condition, or because she hoped wishful thinking might work.
After Caera, there was a consult for a patient who, after suffering a below the knee amputation, was being plagued by phantom pain. There might not be much Connie could do for him, but she would try.
Half an hour for lunch—at her desk, while she juggled her wilted sandwich from the deli a few doors down from the office and her casefiles—and then Anarchy was scheduled for her mandatory session. That could run anywhere from thirty minutes to three hours, depending on how
loose her friend’s tongue was. Archie could still be taciturn during sessions, and it took a lot of prying with a metaphorical crowbar to get her to open up.
Connie frowned. Maybe if she—
Teeth bit into her shoulder, lightly enough to be taken as a warning…for now. Caught between a rough thumb and forefinger, her clit pulsed even as the rest of her went very, very still. Not wanting to trigger Thane's temper, Connie tried to relax, but her pussy started to ache alongside her captured clit.
When her eyes began to roll back in her head, she squeezed them shut. “Sir?”
“You're not napping, sugar.” His lips moved over her shoulder, the words muffled between his clenched teeth. Warm breath huffed against her skin. When he lifted his head, he rubbed his stubble over where he'd bitten, making her hips roll. “Fifteen minutes left. Orgasm or sleep?”
She clenched on emptiness. “Orgasm. Every time, Sir.”
“I love your enthusiasm, Connie. All right then, under the covers you go.” Thane released her completely, leaving her clit to throb mournfully.
She flopped herself around, staring at him in disbelief. Cocky sonofabitch. He'd moved to his back and shoved the covers down to his thickly muscled thighs, drawing her attention to the slightly mangled one she wanted to comfort. One hand was behind his head while his other fisted his cock, and he had the sheer audacity to grin at her. “You chose orgasm, sugar. I didn't say who would be receiving it. I told you to nap and you didn't, so I'm not rewarding that pretty cunt with my mouth or my fingers, and definitely not with my cock.”
Teeth bared in a mimicry of a smile, she tried not to let her intention of biting his precious dick off show in her eyes.
Thane chuckled and gave her a baleful stare. “I'll let you have your hands, Connie, but one nip of those pearly whites and there will be consequences.” He let the thick shaft go, drawing Connie's eyes to the way it slowly leaned toward his stomach, unable to stand up under its own weight. “Get that mouth to work, sugar. Time's ticking.”
Talk For Me: Club Avalon Book 3 Page 18
