by Marie Force
“Then tell me! Show me. Educate me. But don’t leave me in the dark wondering what you really want and making me wonder, every time we make love, if you’re unsatisfied.”
I stare at her, incredulous. “I’m not unsatisfied.”
“But you want more.”
“Yes, I want more! I’ll always want more with you. But I’m satisfied with what I have, and that’s enough.”
“How long will it be enough? How long will it be before you’re having fantasies about doing things with me that you’ve done with other women?”
I divert my gaze because that’s already happened, but in dreams over which I have no control.
“Flynn?”
I’ve promised to be honest with her, and I intend to keep that promise. “I’ve already had those fantasies. I’ve had dreams about being at the club and in the dungeon with you.”
“That day in LA… When I asked you what was wrong and I thought I’d said something in my sleep that had upset you…”
“I’d had a dream that left me out of sorts, but I worked it out.”
She is quiet for a very long, unsettling moment.
“What are you thinking?”
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
Her words strike fear in my heart that ricochets through my entire body. “What can’t you do?”
“This. Us. Any of it.”
“Natalie, come on. This is only one part of our relationship. The rest of it is fucking perfect. You’d really throw all that away because of this?”
“I can’t possibly answer that question without knowing what this entails.”
“So, what? You want details?”
“That would be a good place to start.”
I can almost feel my blood pressure inching into the danger zone at the thought of detailing my kink to her. My sweet, beautiful Natalie hasn’t the first clue what she’s asking for. She’ll never look at me the same way again if I tell her, and I can’t risk that.
I get out of bed and pull on a pair of sweats.
“Where’re you going?”
“I need a drink.” I leave the bedroom and go into the kitchen, where I pour myself a couple of shots of Bowmore, my favorite Scottish single malt. It burns all the way through me, reminding me I haven’t eaten much of anything in the last twenty-four miserable hours.
Natalie appears, wearing my robe, which is huge on her. She’s like my conscience, putting me on notice that she’s not going to let this go.
I feel cornered, trapped, unable to escape from the mess I’ve created for myself. I’ve promised her the truth. But how do I give her that and still preserve our precious bond, which has been made fragile by my lies?
After pouring another half glass of whisky, I bring it with me into the living room, brushing past her as I leave the kitchen.
She follows me.
“What do you want me to say?” I ask her in defeat. There’s nowhere to run from her or this conversation she’s insisting we have, even if I’m certain it will ruin everything between us.
“Tell me about your dreams, the ones you had about me.”
I shudder as a chill runs through me, and the whisky threatens to come back up. Turning away from her, I focus on breathing my way through the nausea. “I don’t know if I can tell you.”
“Why not? They were about me, weren’t they? Don’t I have the right to know?”
I want to argue with her. No, she doesn’t have the right to my every private thought, just as I don’t have the right to all of hers. But I’m on a slippery slope here, well aware that despite our passionate reunion and her words of love, I still have a long way to go to fully repair the damage I’ve done.
“When I was married before,” I say reluctantly, as the thought of Valerie still infuriates me, “it took me two years to tell her what I really wanted. In bed… She… She said I was depraved and disgusting and sick. Then she cheated on me and made sure I caught them in the act so I’d know just how disgusting she found me. I had to threaten her with lawsuits up the ass to keep her from going public with what she’d found out about me. I’ve actually been afraid ever since that she would give in to temptation and tell the real story behind our split, and my career would be irreparably harmed by her version of the truth.”
Natalie comes to me and lays her hands on my chest, the heat of her hands warming the part of me that’s gone cold. “I would never, could never, will never tell anyone what goes on between us. Ever.”
“You say that now when you’re wildly in love with me. What happens if that changes? If you’re so turned off by me that you don’t love me anymore?”
“Flynn… I’m not Valerie. Even if everything were to go bad, and I can’t see that happening, I will never speak of our private life to anyone.”
“What about when I scare you so badly you feel like you don’t know me at all?”
“Even then.” She tips her head adorably. “You want me to sign something to that effect?”
“No.”
“Then how can I make you believe you can trust me with everything? Every single part of you?”
The same sweetness that has slayed me from the beginning brings me to my knees once again. I’m helpless to resist her, even when she’s asking me for things I never intended to give her. I recognize defeat when I’m staring into its sweet face.
“In my dream,” I begin haltingly, wishing for more liquid courage, “you’re not a rape survivor.”
“In my dreams, I’m not either.”
“Nat…”
“It’s okay,” she says with a wry smile. She takes me by the hand and brings me to sit next to her on the sofa, wrapping a cashmere throw around us.
I’d prefer to stand and pace the room for this conversation, but she’s craving the closeness, so I give her what she needs.
“We’re at Club Quantum in New York.”
“There’s a club?”
“Yeah,” I say with a sigh, “here and in LA. In the basement of our office buildings.”
“So… all of you…”
“Yes, and that’s the part you can never talk about.”
“I swear to God, on the lives of my sisters, I never would.”
Because I know there’s no greater assurance she could give me, I force myself to continue. I’ve relived the dreams I had about her so many times that I know them by heart and I recite the details for her now.
She takes a deep breath that interrupts the cadence of my story.
I venture a glance at her and see that her cheeks are flush with color and her lips are parted. My story is turning her on, which gives me the confidence to continue. Every time I think about these dreams, I get so hard, I ache. This time is no exception.
She shifts in her seat next to me.
“Do you want me to stop?” I ask, not certain if she’s uncomfortable or shocked or what.
“Don’t you dare stop.”
Those four words fill me with an unreasonable amount of hope. She’s intrigued, interested and maybe even aroused. She’s not pushing me away or telling me I’m sick or depraved.
Fueled by hope, I continue. “You’re begging me, using my name and I also remind you of what you’re supposed to call me there.”
“What?” she asks in a hoarse whisper.
“Sir. I’m your master, and you’ll afford me the respect I deserve while we’re in a scene.”
“W-what about when we’re not in a scene? Am I supposed to call you that all the time?”
“No, sweetheart. I’m not into the whole master-and-slave thing at all. This is about sex and the emotional connection we find through sex. It’s not about the rest of our lives. I have no desire to dominate you anywhere but in the bedroom.” I smile at her. “Well, the dungeon and the club and a few other places maybe, but only in regard to sex. I have a feeling you might be capable of dominating me outside the bedroom.”
That draws a smile from her. “You never know.”
I bring our joined hand
s to my lips. “I can’t wait to find out.”
She glances at me hesitantly. “Was there more? To your dream?”
Nodding, I say, “A lot more. You want to hear the rest?”
“Yes, please.”
“So polite. That pleases me greatly.”
She lowers her eyes in perfect supplication. “I aim to please you.”
I’m electrified by both her actions and her words. “Natalie… God.”
“Is that the wrong thing to say?”
“No, it’s fucking perfect. You’re perfect.” Because I can’t resist her for another second, I take her in my arms and kiss her with the wild passion that has grown and multiplied inside me as I described my erotic fantasies to her.
She returns my passion with her own, meeting my tongue stroke for stroke until we’re once again prone, me on top of her, wrapped up in each other.
I end the kiss slowly, in stages, reluctantly. “You’re not running from me in fear.”
“No. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m dying to hear the rest. Will you tell me?”
I press my rock-hard cock against her pubic bone. “Can I stay here?”
She runs her fingers through my hair. “I wish you would.”
I nuzzle her neck and continue my story.
She draws in a sharp deep breath.
God, I love her so much, and I love that we are lying here together talking about things that seemed so far outside the realm of possibility only yesterday.
She’s moving under me, in time with me as I press rhythmically against her.
“Flynn…”
“What, honey?”
“I want you inside me. Right now.”
Because she’s naked under the robe, it takes very little effort to push down my sweats and slide into her. “God, you’re so wet. So incredibly hot and wet.”
“I’ve never been more aroused in my entire life.”
“So you’re not disgusted?” I ask, thrusting into her repeatedly while her fingers dig into my biceps.
She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head. “What else is there? What else do you like?”
Keeping up the steady, driving pace, I lose myself in her as the words pour out of me.
I come out of the fog of desire I’ve slipped into to realize I’ve been fucking her harder than I ever have before, but she’s right there with me, taking everything I give her. Looking down at her gorgeous face, I see only love and passion, but no sign of fear. “Do you trust me?”
“With my life.”
“Do you love me?”
“I’ll love you forever.”
Knowing that gives me the courage I need so badly right now. I have given her my truth, and she still loves me. It is the most priceless of all the priceless gifts she’s given me. “I want your hands.”
Without taking her gaze off mine, she lifts her arms, offering her hands to me.
“Bring them together.”
She flattens her palms against each other.
Watching her face intently, I wrap my hand around both her wrists and bring them up over her head, pinning them to the cushion. We’re both well aware this is a major test. If we can do this, maybe, just maybe, there could be more for us.
I give her plenty of time to voice her objection, but my strong, brave Natalie never blinks. Instead, she raises her hips, asking me to move. I pick up the pace, stroking into her while watching her carefully for any sign of trouble. When I see none, I risk looking away to suck on one of the cherry-red nipples that stands at full attention.
Then I do something I haven’t done before. I close my teeth over the nipple, tight enough to cause a sharp bite of pain.
She gasps, and her pussy clamps down on me, nearly triggering my orgasm. But I’ve learned how to delay my gratification, sometimes for hours, so I’m able to power through it. “Talk to me, Nat. Tell me how you feel. If you talk to me, I can keep doing this.” I drag my tongue over the nipple that is now darker red than it was before. “Rather than watching you to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m okay. Do that again… What you did before…”
I switch to the other side and begin with soft strokes of my tongue, adding a bit of suction after a minute or two. “This?”
“More.”
“Tell me. I want your words.”
“Bite it. Like you did before. Please…”
“You kill me when you’re polite, Nat.”
“I’m going to kill you if you don’t do it.”
I clamp down on her nipple, harder this time than the last.
She screams as she comes.
I drive into her one more time, taking my own pleasure in the midst of hers. Releasing her hands, I cup her breasts, running my tongue gently over the tips, soothing and caressing as she goes soft under me, her body yielding to me.
“Flynn…”
“Hmm?” I’m very busy enjoying her gorgeous breasts.
“I want to do what you dreamed about.”
Her words stop me short. I raise my head to meet her gaze. “How much of it?”
“All of it. I want everything that you want. More than anything, I want to be everything you’ve ever dreamed of having in a wife and lover.”
I’m stunned and humbled to have somehow won the love of this amazing woman. “Christ, Nat, you already are.”
“Not quite yet, but I will be. Will you teach me how to be everything you want and need?”
I’m so overwhelmed by gratitude, I can barely speak. “Yes, sweetheart, I’ll teach you.”
Chapter 4
“So what happens now?” I ask much later as we consume our favorite dinner from the nearby Italian takeout place—chicken piccata and Caesar salad. Flynn opens a bottle of chardonnay and pours a glass for each of us. We slept for hours after our life-altering conversation earlier, and woke starving—for food and each other.
It’s dark now, and the wind is howling outside. The delivery guy told Flynn there’s more than eight inches of snow already on the ground and more coming overnight.
“Now,” Flynn says after taking a drink from his glass of wine, “we hammer out a contract.”
“Like a real contract?”
“Yep. Hold that thought.” He gets up and crosses the room to his office.
I watch him go, enjoying the view of him wearing only formfitting boxer briefs and nothing else. He’s magnificent and all mine. Though I’m still reeling from everything that happened earlier, I’m no longer agonizing over what will become of us. We’re in this together, and that’s all that matters.
Flynn returns, a packet of papers in hand. “The contract between you and me is not legal, but it’s a binding agreement for our relationship that outlines our hard and soft limits—in other words, things you absolutely won’t do as well as things that make you nervous but you’d be willing to try. It’s all negotiated in advance so there can be no misunderstandings during a scene.”
“Could I ask a question?”
“Always.”
This one requires some liquid courage, so I take a big sip of wine. “Will this… arrangement… involve other people?”
“No.”
“Just no? No discussion? Haven’t you done that before?”
“Yes,” he says tightly. “I’ve done it, but there’s no fucking way I’m sharing you with anyone. The thought of another man touching you… That’s a hard limit for me.”
“Okay…” I’m moved by his fiercely protective reaction, but that doesn’t mean I’m not interested in pushing his buttons a little. “What about another woman?”
His eyes widen, and he starts to say something that dies on his lips. “Sorry, I’m just a little startled that you asked that.”
I begin to laugh and can’t seem to stop. “After everything you’ve said to me today, that shocks you?”
“Coming from you, yes.”
“I’m sorry. Have I shattered your illusions about your
sweet, innocent wife?”
“I’m discovering my sweet, innocent wife may not be as innocent as I thought she was.”
“Oh, she is, trust me, but I’ve done my research.”
“Is that right?”
“Uh-huh. I’m wondering why all the secrecy surrounding this lifestyle. Why does it matter if people know?”
“Most people keep kinky preferences secret because society, as a whole, doesn’t understand them. Too many equate kinky with perverted, and it’s not perverted if two consenting adults are doing things that were agreed to in advance. The need for secrecy in my case and that of my partners is because that kind of judgment would hurt our careers.”
“That’s kind of sad when you think about it.”
“It’s reality,” he says with a shrug. “People fear what they don’t understand. It’s easier and cleaner to keep it private. Plus it’s none of anyone’s fucking business.”
“True.”
“Another thing that people don’t understand is it’s not all about sex. It’s much more about the emotion. When two people are fully invested in a scene, it can be the most intensely emotional experience you’ll ever have—and that’s before anyone has sex.” He cups my face and slides his thumb over my cheekbone. “That’s magnified a thousand times when you’re in a scene with someone you love.”
It’s hard to imagine our lovemaking more intense than it already is, but I take his word for the fact that there is more—much more. “What else is in that contract of yours?”
“A checklist of possibilities. But first, I want you to look at this and see what you think. Most of the time, these things are hammered out verbally. But because of who we are and what we have to lose, we do paper contracts at Quantum. Everything about this lifestyle and our agreement is based on three core beliefs—safe, sane and consensual. Everything we do will be all three of those things or it doesn’t happen.”
He hands me two pages that outline our Dominant/submissive relationship. The Club Quantum logo sits at the top of both pages.
“Who has access to the clubs?”
“The five principal partners as well as our staff and the members we’ve admitted over the years.”
“How do you keep something like this a secret in your business?”
