Knowing the Ropes

by Teresa Noelle Roberts

  “I’ll call her mom,” he promised, “see what I can find out. She’d have told her mom where she was moving, even if she didn’t tell anyone else.” Natalie’s mom had probably been more upset by the breakup than either Natalie or Nick had been. Apparently, he’d been the first boyfriend who didn’t set off all of Mrs. Sherman’s mom-alarms.

  “Thanks.” Betsy blinked, and he realized she was fighting back tears in a very un-Betsy-like way. “I’m sure I’m overreacting, but one of my friends from high school dropped out of sight like Natalie has. We all thought she’d run off to New York with her new boyfriend.” He had a sickening knowledge of what was coming before she said it. “They found her body out by Quabbin Reservoir six months later.”

  Wordlessly, he offered Betsy his margarita.

  And Betsy, who didn’t normally drink anything more potent than iced coffee, took a big slug.

  Selene climbed out of the pool and headed, dripping, over toward the grill or, more to the point, toward Nick. “Please tell me summer in Boston isn’t always like this!” she moaned melodramatically, throwing herself onto a redwood deck chair with a squish of her waterlogged bikini.

  “If it’s any consolation, it’s probably ten degrees hotter farther inland.”

  “That’s not much of a consolation, seeing that we’re not there. You ready to take a break from grilling and swim?”

  “Actually, I think I’m ready to take a break and find someplace quiet inside for a few minutes. I need some downtime.”

  “Heat getting to you? Or something on your mind?” His expression was too serious for a party. Grim, almost.

  “Just thinking on some stuff I heard today. Nothing to do with you.”

  “Can you be more unclear, or would that be painful?”

  Nick forced a laugh and discovered he didn’t really need to force it once he started. “It’s kind of complicated, and I’d like to bounce stuff off you. Want to go inside?”

  They ended up in the small game room off the living room. Nick closed the door, sat down on a well-loved couch. Selene, still damp around the edges, opted for the floor.

  “Okay,” Nick said. “Short version: Betsy thinks a mutual friend is in trouble. Half of me thinks Betsy’s overreacting, and the other half is convinced she’s right and wants to ride off to the rescue even though I don’t know where I’d go or what I’d rescue her from.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  He hesitated, not wanting to say, as if saying it would make it real. “She met this guy, a dom, on the Internet…”

  “So it could be anything from a broken heart to a broken neck? Or maybe nothing?”

  Nick nodded. “Pretty much. Only, I know her, and she’d be more likely to end up in the broken-neck category. Natalie thought…” He corrected himself quickly, not liking the implications. “Thinks limits are for wanna-bes, and wants to give herself totally to someone, and her ideal dom was a hardcore sadist who would treat her like a toy—a thing.”

  “In other words, she’s an idiot.”

  “Not an idiot. Half broken—she lost her dad really young, and I think some of her weirder ideas go back to that—and half dedicated to this lofty ideal of submission. Like a nun or something, only…a sex nun, if that makes any sense. If she met someone who was worthy of that devotion and knew what to do with it, it would be sweet and romantic in a bent sort of way, like what Garth and Alison have, only even kinkier, but the broken part means she’s just as likely to meet a nutcase and think it’s okay.”

  He thought he’d sounded detached enough, cool enough, but evidently not. “An ex of yours?” Selene asked. When he reluctantly nodded, she said rather than asked, “The pretty blonde in all those pictures in your house.”

  He nodded in confirmation.

  For some reason, his instinct was to say, I don’t love her, but he bit it back.

  For one thing, he wasn’t sure it was true. He was pretty sure he wasn’t in love with Natalie anymore, but he still felt something, or he wouldn’t be as concerned as he was.

  For another, he figured saying that when the question hadn’t come up was the best way to make a woman assume he was still in love with Natalie.

  Selene put her arms around him, slipped into his lap. “I can see why you’re worried something bad happened to her. Hell, she’s a thin, gorgeous blonde stranger you used to date, and I’m still worried something bad happened to her.”

  “That,” Nick said, “isn’t exactly reassuring.”

  But the feeling of Selene’s body against his, clad only in a tiny bikini, was.

  Or maybe distracting was a better word.

  It didn’t seem fair to Natalie—even if she was fine, just in the thoughtless stage of infatuation—to be so aware of Selene’s round, creamy breasts almost popping out of the minimal little black-and-white top, the curve of her hip and heart shape of her ass so nicely accented by the bottom. Something about an almost-naked woman got to him every time, and never mind that in this case he’d seen Selene naked, had gotten to explore the now-hidden mysteries of breasts and pussy pretty thoroughly.

  He wanted to explore all over again, just in case he’d missed anything.

  “Are you trying to distract me?”

  Selene pulled away, looking torn between guilt and mischief. “To distract myself, actually. Otherwise, I’m going to keep wondering about your friend…”

  “Natalie.” Saying the name made the situation feel that much more real.

  “About Natalie. About how easy it is to be dumb even if you’re smart. I went to those Internet sites sometimes. I kept meeting guys who were obviously more clueless than I was, or who didn’t know where the shift key was, or who couldn’t type because they had one hand down their pants, so I gave up pretty quickly. But if I’d met someone who talked a good game? I like to think I’m not stupid, but I can be impulsive. Think about how we met. Not exactly reasoned and thought out.”

  She stopped, then turned to look up at him, eyes like a doe’s—that big, that nervous. “I’m babbling,” she said. “Please give me something else to do with my mouth.”

  She tilted her head, obviously hoping for a kiss, but acknowledging that it had to come on his whim, not hers.

  And Nick gave her one.

  Oh, he gave her one. A rough kiss, harsh and demanding, hands pulling at Selene’s hair.

  Because he was drowning out images of Natalie, of all the bad things that could happen to…well, to any unlucky woman, but especially one whose major masturbatory fantasy was losing her identity, becoming a mere thing for a man’s pleasure.

  And Selene moaned deep in her throat, wrapped around him, opened to him as if she were using him to drown out ugliness too—maybe worry for a woman she didn’t know, maybe belated nerves for some close call. Maybe fear that she too had jumped too quickly and she’d better enjoy herself while she could, in case she needed to make a rapid escape.

  He worked loose the knots holding her top in place as he kissed her, sighing as the slip of damp stretch fabric slithered to the floor and her breasts pressed against him, skin on skin.

  He cradled them between his hands, toying at the nipples as he mounded them closer together. His mouth still covered her, drowning out any noises she might be making, but he swore he could taste her aroused, contented sighs.

  When Selene had made the remark about giving her something else to do with her mouth, he’d imagined Selene on her knees, his hands knotted in her hair, claiming and guiding her, her lips wrapped around him. And God yes, the image made his cock ache with need. Such a sweet mouth on that girl, such a sweet, greedy, fuckable mouth. Or maybe his cock nestled between those lovely breasts. No, not nestled—sandwiched, enjoying warm oil and the delicious friction of Selene’s flesh, one of those acts that felt purely selfish, just taking his pleasure, an act of dominance that involved no pain, no force, just orgasm for him and teasing enjoyment but no coming for his partner.

  But now, as his tongue danced in her mouth, another though
t was taking over.

  Power through pleasure.

  Chapter Eleven

  Who said the sub always had to be the one on her knees—or that she wasn’t getting a kind of power out of being there? Giving pleasure could be a way of claiming someone, and he intended to claim Selene. Still kissing her, Nick steered Selene to the couch, then broke off the kiss so he could order her to sit down.

  Lips swollen from kissing, damp hair in Medusa-like tendrils and tangles, Selene shook her head slightly, less a negation than a clearing, before saying, “Uh, wet bathing suit, sir?” her voice small but not exactly humble—more kiss-dazed.

  “Well, take it off.”

  A lazy grin wakened and spread across her face as she solved the problem. The bathing suit bottom made a satisfying plop as it hit the floor.

  He gave her a gentle shove, and she sat back on the couch. “Spread your legs,” he said, trying to sound authoritative but to his own ears sounding more eager. Greedy, even.

  Was that a bad thing? No, he decided as he gazed at her pink folds, lightly slicked with moisture. Her dark curls were matted from her swim, and it made her look wetter yet, as if she’d just been licked into oblivion.

  Like she soon would be.

  “Wider,” he commanded, and without waiting for her to comply, he knelt down between her splayed legs.

  “What are you…”

  “Hush.” With one hand, he pulled back her outer lips, bringing the inner lips into greater prominence, making her clit stand out, ready for attention.

  “Wait a minute, is this some kind of dom trick? I lie back and enjoy and then get punished for being greedy or selfish or something?” She sounded skeptical but not particularly alarmed at the prospect of punishment.

  Good, she’d figured out that at this point “punishment” was just a code word for “an excuse to play harder”.

  A sharp slap on the inner thigh left a pretty red handprint on white skin, made her wince one second and smile dizzily the next. “That’s for trying too hard to be clever,” he said, grinning as he did to make it clear he wasn’t annoyed, just seizing an excuse. “I wish I’d thought of that, actually, but now you’d be on to the trick.”

  “But…shouldn’t I…”

  Nick resisted the urge to snort with laughter, because it wasn’t fair to Selene. She’d figure out for herself, with a little more experience with him, why it was funny. “Selene,” he said, forcing his voice into what he thought of as DomSpeak. “We’ve agreed that today you’re to do what I tell you. I’m telling you to relax and enjoy yourself, because right now I feel like tasting you. I like making you scream, Selene. Will you scream for me if I lick you?”

  Eyes wide with anticipation now that it had finally sunk in this wasn’t a test or a trick, just good old-fashioned oral sex, she smiled and nodded.

  He positioned himself, gave a slow, sensuous tonguing from the juicy opening of her cunt up to her eager clit, savoring the combination of her sweetly smoky juices and overtones of chlorine. Usually, pool water wasn’t on his list of favorite flavors, but blended with essence of Selene, it was damn tasty. “There,” he said, “not so hard to handle, is it?”

  Then he set to work to carry out his threat-or-promise.

  Licking delicately at her pouting lips.

  Sucking at the juices that flowed from her cunt, wishing he could just stick a straw in, drink them down. She tasted that good to him, that rich and hot and musky.

  Nibbling.

  Suckling at her protruding clit and inner lips, drawing them into his mouth, working them with lips and tongue until he could sense more juices had flowed, then going back to eagerly lap those up.

  Such a hot, sweet, drenched cunt. So tight, and yet so accommodating, opening to his fingers, yet hugging them, squeezing them convulsively as Selene got closer and closer to the edge.

  His cock ached to be in there. But dammit, his clever sticking-condoms-in-the-pocket-of-his-jeans trick worked only if he and the jeans were in the same room—and he’d changed into shorts long ago, accidentally leaving the precious condom in the changing room.

  And when Selene couldn’t hold back anymore, when she was writhing and mewling, pushing her mound against his probing, exploring mouth, begging for release, he pushed into her wet cunt with two fingers as he swirled and spiraled around her swollen clit.

  “Now,” he breathed, talking around her sex, vibrating her clit with his breath. Whether that did it or the command or whether his timing was that good, Selene arched up, shrieked, clenched at his fingers so hard it seemed to clench his dick at the same instant.

  Shattered.

  But he wasn’t done yet. Not by a long shot, not when that quivering cunt tasted so good, not when seeing her lose control like that under his tongue and fingers made him feel like a god.

  Selene’s eager little body seemed to crave every bit of pleasure he wanted to give it, came again and again and still seemed greedy for more.

  God, he loved that in a woman. Natalie…well, Nat was wonderfully sexual, but in a different way. More rough-edged. She craved the harsh stuff, pain and roughness, and couldn’t relax into anything gentler. It had been a great excuse to try some new wild things—but damn, sometimes he’d missed the basics, like the sheer pleasure of making a woman come on his tongue until she didn’t know what day it was.

  The dull ache in Nick’s cock and balls was getting more distracting, but he was determined to keep going until Selene begged for mercy for her oversensitive clit. Didn’t she ever tire? Not that he wanted her to—it was just impressive to find someone so responsive, so orgasmic.

  So hot and wet and delicious.

  Finally, she raised her hand, pounded it on the cushion, muttered, “Enough.” When that didn’t work, she jerked on his ponytail, trying to raise his head.

  Mischievously, he pretended not to notice, giving a few more broad licks, pumping a few more times with his fingers.

  “Hey,” she protested breathily. “My turn to play!”

  He looked up at last.

  She pulled him up to her, licked her juices off his chin. Then she wriggled out from under him, encouraged him out of his shorts and onto the couch.

  She looked so beautiful—so natural and right—kneeling between his legs, her eyes still soft and hazy from coming, her mouth slack and red with desire, her chest and tits mottled and flushed from coming so much.

  Nick tried to tell her as much, but Selene’s lips descended onto his cock, and he lost the power of human speech.

  The room smelled of sex and chlorine, smelled of Selene. His skin was saturated with Selene. He was saturated in her, wrapped up in her, and he loved it.

  Her eyes closed in concentration. Her face was red, scrunched up, distorted by his cock, and that just made it more beautiful from his point of view.

  One hand, slicked with her own hot juices, around the base of his shaft, the other playing with his balls. Her mouth clung and suckled, her tongue swirled, and he wanted to hold on to the moment, to enjoy the sensation a little longer. Then, oh God, she used one finger to gently circle his anus, not entering, just teasing that sensitive opening.

  That undid him. Opening his mouth in a silent roar, gripping her shoulders convulsively, he poured himself into her waiting mouth, into her throat, thinking, Mine, mine, mine! but unable to make even that much of an attempt at English.

  With his last energy, he pulled her up onto the sofa next to him.

  Selene roused first, stretched, whispered, “I’m starving.”

  He realized he was too. All that time at the grill—had he even gotten around to grabbing a burger for himself?

  If he had, he’d burned it off.

  “Shhh.” He pressed a finger to his lips. “I think Alison would commit hara-kiri if she realized people were hungry at a party here.”

  “Oh, I think she’d understand if it was because we got too distracted to eat…lunch.” Selene smiled lazily. “On the other hand, I think we ought to take care of that
. If we’re away much longer, it’ll give everyone time to make score cards.”

  Nick laughed and handed over her bikini bottom. “Be prepared. I’m pretty sure they have a preprinted set somewhere.”

  There were no score cards, although there were a few knowing smiles.

  There was food and swimming and a game of bocce where no one knew the rules or cared, and at one point, Alison and Garth both actually sat down at once, which, as far as Nick knew, was a record for a party.

  However, there was no more serious conversation.

  It wasn’t until much later, in the warm, sticky dusk of a hot, sticky day, partway to Selene’s place in Somerville, that Selene put her hand on his arm—it had been on his upper thigh, nearly but not quite in his crotch for most of the ride—and said, “If there’s anything I can do to help your friend…”

  He boggled but did his best to hide it. “Not sure what you could do. First we need to figure out where she is, and then if she actually needs help, and then if she’ll admit she does. And you don’t even know her.”

  “That might be useful. I can be more objective.” Selene’s voice was earnest, different from what he’d heard before, except maybe when she was talking about her studies, her work with battered women. “I’m trained in this stuff. Domestic violence kind of stuff.”

  “If she went into it voluntarily…”

  She nodded. “That’s not the question. The question is if she’s still there voluntarily. If she’s not, we’ll get her out. By hook or by crook. And I’ll help you figure out how to hide the bodies.”

  The rest of the ride to her place was very quiet.

  Nick stared at his phone when he got home.

  Told himself repeatedly that he should call Natalie’s mother.

  Made excuse after excuse.

  Ended up getting a Harpoon Summer Ale from the refrigerator and drinking it as he carefully took down all the pictures of Natalie, wrapped them in newspaper and put them in the back of his closet.