Nick fixed the blindfold, eliciting a grumble but inside her head she still saw him gripping his dick, choking it in his strong grasp.
Nick pinched her other nipple, reminding her who was still in control.
He untied her cuffs, shoving her forward. She caught herself beside the stranger’s thighs and Nick spanked her again.
Why didn’t matter, she just hoped he never stopped.
His hand flashed across her backside, sometimes light, sometimes hard. A quick succession, followed by a volley of slow, measured, swats meant to get her attention on him and keep it.
The scent of another man’s cock filled her nose and her mouth watered to taste him.
Nick grabbed her hair along with the knot of the bandana, tugging her head up so her back arched and he growled into her ear.
“I’ll be right back. If I were you, I’d properly thank my friend for putting up with your bratty behavior.”
Nick released her hair and her hips moved on their own, riding the tip of the guy’s tongue still below her.
She couldn’t see him working his cock but she could hear it. The sound his fist made as he jacked himself off using his slippery pre-cum as lube.
His masculine scent reached her as Ian—as the stranger fisted his cock. She wanted to see him, to gorge her eyes on him but there was something inherently perfect about not being able to see anything.
The mystery didn’t have to be ruined. He could be exactly who she wanted him to be, even if it was for only a short time—even if it was nothing but a lie.
“Please,” she begged and somehow he understood what she needed. It wasn’t simply that she wanted to thank him properly, it was more than that.
It was a goodbye for her. Closure of the kinky variety since she’d never actually gotten to say adieu to Ian.
A growl reached her through her stomach as it rumbled from him. He grabbed her head, guiding her down to his erection. She kissed the head, licking the tiny slit at the top before sucking him in. Instead of letting her do what she wanted, he showed her what he expected of her.
He set a fast pace and groaned when her teeth grazed the edge of his cock.
“Suck me off, I’m gonna come down your throat.”
He even sounded a bit like Ian. Instead of fighting it she finally succumbed to what she wanted to believe, knowing there was no harm in thinking it for a little while.
She got lost in the fantasy of it as he grabbed her ass and held her around her back, holding her pussy to his mouth.
Giving head made her pussy wet and she gave it as if she were a pro, He pumped his hips up into her mouth while moving moisture back to her ass.
His finger slid inside her swollen sex and she hummed on his dick.
He growled and all of a sudden he flipped her over onto her belly, rotating her in the bed so she faced away from him. He spread her legs wide and then moved off the bed.
To stare at her?
To leave?
She didn’t know but then the crinkle of a condom package sent anticipation up her spine and into the pit of her stomach. Boots and clothing shuffling—thudding behind her—made her curl her toes and clutch at the comforter beneath her. The substitute Ian climbed between her legs, running his strong palms up the backs of her thighs, spreading them even wider.
He twisted her arms behind her, latching her cuffed wrists together as he moved closer, rubbing his hair-covered thighs against her skin.
His chest brushed her back as he leaned in close. He put most of his weight off onto one side, maybe on his elbow but she craned her neck as his breath brushed across her cheek.
She thought he was going to speak, to talk to her, order her to do something. Anything.
But he stared at her, she guessed.
She could feel his attention, as if everything else in the room had gone away, leaving only the two of them.
For whatever reason it was nice, as if she’d known him forever, which struck her as just odd. She opened her mouth to say something but sucked in a breath instead when he filled her with his cock.
He stretched her to the point of pain because she’d already taken it rough from Nick.
The look-a-like Ian latched on to her wrists and fucked himself into her with a passion and rage. It startled her and excited her, making her go liquid around his cock.
“Such a dirty girl,” he whispered.
Her wrists became his leverage and he fucked her until she couldn’t remember where she was, what day it was or what year.
His urgency threw her emotions into chaos because they bled into her.
She wrapped the tops of her feet over his calves. The need to touch him overwhelmed her. To reach out to him or simply to reach him pulled at her insides. To soothe him or more.
He needed something from her and she didn’t know what it was.
“What is it? What do you want from me?”
She didn’t know at first if she said it only in her head or if she’d said it out loud.
But he leaned down again, crowding her into the mattress with his weight, his presence.
“You,” he growled. “All of you. Stop holding back.”
Ian used to accuse her of that, holding back.
She didn’t think she had then but she was much more self-aware after so much time alone.
She knew she held back and didn’t want to give that up to anyone. Not to Nick and certainly not to some random dude getting to fuck her for a night.
“If you want it, take it but don’t expect me to help you get there.”
She might as well have waved a red flag in front of a bull.
He released her wrists, yanking her up by her upper arms onto just her knees so quick she had a bit of vertigo behind the blindfold.
He put her in a choke hold and she automatically latched on to his forearms. His hold wasn’t extremely tight, it didn’t seem like he wanted to truly choke her but the threat was there.
It was as if it were the first time with Ian or the last time, she didn’t know.
Past and present collided in her brain as he pumped himself inside her. And the deliciously naughty thought of Nick being in her ass at the same time came crashing down on top of her.
So damn hot.
He held her to his chest, using his leverage as a counterweight so she sat precariously at the top of a cliff. If he chose to let go she didn’t stand a chance.
She had to place her trust in him, no matter how slight. The concept wasn’t lost on her but the practice of it had been dormant for way too long.
Down they went again and this time he placed even more of his weight on her back. His control magnified by her arms being folded up and trapped beneath her. It was hard to breathe and she loved it, especially with the corset on. He nipped her ear and whispered, “Come for me, with my cock inside. Give it to me.”
He punctuated each word with a thrust, forcing her to take him, to take all of him, simply because he wanted her to.
Blissful tension tightened her body, spreading like a brush fire in a field plagued by drought.
She owed this man nothing. He held no sway over her conscious mind, nor body but something inside her listened to him. Somewhere deep inside her she needed to follow his command.
“Come,” he snarled in her ear right before he bit her shoulder.
“Yes,” she called out as her body flew apart beneath him. Orgasmic waves crashed against her. Tossing her out to sea, just to drag her back to shore on the next crest.
He hugged her tight, riding her through her orgasm as he came inside the condom he wore. He cursed as he bit and sucked at her flesh, surely hard enough to leave a mark that she’d wear for the next few days.
She panted beneath him, wishing for the second time in so many days she were brave enough to remove the corset and be next to a man skin to skin.
Heart to heart.
Everywhere else his skin met hers goose bumps jumped up, maybe so she could touch him more. She tucked her face into the cro
ok his elbow made and she inhaled, drawing his scent inside her, wanting it there for always.
Her tongue peeked out, licking his skin as her whole body jolted beneath his.
“You taste good,” she whispered and he cursed once again, grabbing her hair and tugging it back, twisting it sharply so he could kiss her.
He took her mouth just like he’d taken her pussy a little while earlier.
There was no permission requested and somehow he knew he didn’t need it. She licked his bottom lip and he plunged his tongue inside. He wrenched his head away again and bit her hard enough to leave a mark. She couldn’t think of anyone but Ian.
He’d been a biter and she’d liked it.
His teeth made another appearance, nibbling at her mouth and chin, across to her cheek and down.
Her head was too heavy to fight gravity so she relaxed, laying it on the bed. Enjoying the last few thrusts of her stand-ins movement multiplied her reaction to him.
She floated in foggy la-la land, crying because she was so happy. In her head Ian’s voice filled it. Words of love, requests of forgiveness and that he’d never leave her again. Not ever.
There were no responses she could tell herself that made anything like that even feasible. He was gone. He wasn’t coming back, but being able to have some kind of closure, even when she knew it wasn’t rational, helped.
Rationality didn’t really have much to do with love though.
At least that was something else she’d learned.
She’d liked having sex with Ian when they were younger. Hottest sex she’d ever had, until very recently. But her memory didn’t hold a candle to what’d just happened between Nick and this guy or the possibilities of what it might be to have it on a permanent basis.
Doubt crept in but then Nick’s voice was next to her, “I’ve got her. Thanks, man.”
The stranger withdrew from her sore sheath and slowly got up from the bed.
As Nick maneuvered her beneath the covers of the bed, she hid behind the blindfold as the stranger got dressed and left. His identity was something she didn’t want to know.
Not ever.
Him leaving quickly, without another touch, another word or gesture… She knew it was for the best. He’d done what he’d come to do, be a third for Nick and her, but she couldn’t help being a bit sad at the loss of his presence.
Jenna burrowed down in the bed, getting comfortable as Nick tugged her close.
“I didn’t know how you’d handle it.”
“It what?” she mumbled, feeling strange talking with a natural volume. She wanted to hum the theme song from The Sound of Music with how languid and amazing she felt.
He tugged her blindfold off but she kept her eyes closed. “Two guys. You blow my damn mind as you take everything I want to throw at you.”
Tears leaked from her eyes and onto his chest again and she cried for all of the reasons she still wanted to bury her head in the sand. This time it wasn’t so scary. She wasn’t alone after all.
Each time she got a little bit closer to really giving herself to him.
She’d kept herself so insulated during just the talks about the hard stuff, but it was getting easier with Nick. Aftercare had been a hard limit for her with anyone for a while. “I’ve tended to stay by myself so long. I’d forgotten how wonderful the after portion could be.”
She snuggled in close, curling up next to Nick…
Normally she hit sub-drop pretty hard after the adrenaline crashes in her system after a scene.
But with Nick it wasn’t too bad. With him she felt like herself. It was amazing. She checked out the clock on the wall beside the bed.
Two o’clock. Earliest she’d been able to go to bed for the last several nights, and for once she knew she was going to sleep wonderfully.
She fell into a deep sleep, wondering where the man was who should have been spooned behind her.
Chapter Eleven
Standing in her living room the next day, she stared at the contact screen on her phone.
The man she thought of as her grandfather was in Japan, where she’d last seen him. It was beyond words late on the other side of the world and she’d successfully tried to talk herself out of calling several times.
The inner pep talk just wasn’t sticking.
“Fuck it.” She pushed the call button and listened to the ringing, trying to calm her nerves.
The connection opened. “I haven’t spoken to you in months and you decide to call at three a.m. Truly, nakayoshi, what am I to do with you?” His soothing raspy voice, tinged with his usual humor, revealed his happiness at her phone call.
“Love and adore me until the end of time?” It was the same question and question they’d done with each other for years. Emotions threatened to drown her when he answered.
“Hai, zhutto. Forever.”
She tucked the phone between her cheek and shoulder to continue the task she’d been working on before she called. The last thing she wanted to do was worry him so she brushed away her tears. Feeling loved from the one man who’d never let her down buoyed her spirits. “How are you? I miss you.”
“Well. Very well. Staying out of trouble—mostly.”
She touched the strands of silk strewn across her living room, rolling her eyes. “You get in more trouble at your age than most people get into for an entire lifetime.”
“Amateurs.”
His chuckle made her smile and she picked up another spool of fiber.
“What are you doing, my magomusume?”
She froze with her hand outstretched toward the basket filled with the material she couldn’t walk away from.
His nickname for her always lightened her heart but uncertainty closed in all around her at his question.
For a moment, she thought about lying but that would be a great disservice to him.
“Making rope.”
To say it was a huge deal equated to calling Mount Everest a mole hill. She hadn’t done it in more than two years. She cringed, worrying he would ask what prompted the change but instead he asked her about the rope itself.
“And what kind are you whetting your appetite with?”
“Italian silk.”
“Shibari length?
“Is there any other length?”
“Ahh, correct answer. What are you mixing with the silk, linen?”
She grabbed another spool of silk and tore off the plastic wrapping. “Yes a bit of linen and a bit of hemp as well. I made a batch earlier. It came out tiger-striped with bits of black peeking through. Really pretty.”
A narrow four-inch bar-style handle was screwed into the jamb of her front door. Across her living room and into the open dining room, a matching handle was screwed into a corner stud using anchors.
To make her rope base she tied off strands of several materials to the handle by the front door, depending on her recipe. Then she ran them across to the other handle, attaching them with S-hooks. Back and forth she walked, stringing material, building the rope a few strands at a time.
She kept going until the size was what she wanted, then she used a drill on the far end to twist the strands together, creating something wholly different.
“Are you still using the method I taught you so many years ago or has the western world leeched my practices out of you?”
“I don’t think I could make rope another way. This is how you taught me and the results are spectacular.”
“Beautiful rope is not made…” He paused waiting for her to finish the thought.
“It is born. I remember.” Tears spilled over her cheeks and she sniffed. “I know it’s been a while but I remember, Nawa. I remember everything you taught me.”
He ignored her emotion. She was very thankful for small favors.
“You are good to an old man to carry on his ways.”
“You’re not old, Nawa. You’re experienced.”
The rumble of his laugh made her want to snuggle into his lap. “Flattery will get you
everywhere, my dear. Into trouble I’m quite sure, but it can get you out of it just as surely.”
A door of some kind moved on his end and she pictured him in his home, sliding the screen open so he could stand outside, looking over the bay where he lived.
“Are the cranes there this late?”
A huge body of water right off a coastal inlet fed a large pond in front of his house. Cranes went there year-round for the temperate weather and good fishing.
“Hai. None are eating now, they are all bedded down, waiting for morning when the fish are awake and hungry. They are lucky, they know when to be asleep.”
“The koi or the cranes?”
“Both.” He took a deep breath, holding it for a count of five before slowly releasing it.
He did it again and his calm filtered through the phone. She matched his meditative breathing without thinking about it. They used to do it together several times a day. By the fourth or fifth breath she stood in the middle of her living room, eyes closed, breathing with him. He always did that, led and she followed, even if he never spoke.
“I wish you were here,” she whispered to him, wanting to be held by him, unconditional love pouring from him, filling her up.
And she was so empty.
“It’s been a long time since I… What’s the American phrase? Hugged your neck?”
“Ha! That’s more specialized to the South, actually. If you told one of my friends that, while I was in Chicago, they’d dig the mace out of their purse.”
“I did always think it a bit odd, but no matter. The sentiment you understand?”
“Very much and I would return the sentiment ten-fold if I could.”
“Hopefully soon. I do not like being alone so much. I much prefer the company of a beautiful rope switch at my disposal. Tie up lovely submissives and then get tied up herself. I believe you know her,” he kidded with her. “Who else is going to listen to all of my rope stories over and over, just to act as if they’ve never heard them before?”
Jenna met him through Ian, many moons ago. She and Ian had belonged to the same BDSM club in Chicago, called Shiver. It was actually how they met.
She’d heard of Nawa before, seen remote podcasts of international stage performances of him tying. He was a legend with rope. A pioneer in so many ways.
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