Ryan looked at me with infinite understanding in his eyes, and he reached out to hold my hand in a gesture of comfort. It was surprisingly easy to talk about my parents to Ryan. His mom had died when he was young as well; it was one thing we had in common.
“Nina said you never celebrate Christmas.” The words came out before I could bite them back. I cursed myself.
“Did she?” Ryan’s voice was expressionless.
“Why?”
There was silence; I didn’t think Ryan was going to answer. The moments ticked by.
“You have happy memories of Christmas, Maya,” he said finally. “I don’t.”
“Why?” I asked again. I knew I was prying, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
“Something happened once, something that’s soured the holiday for me.” Ryan’s voice signalled an end to the conversation. But I wasn’t done, I didn’t understand.
“So what?”
Ryan raised an eyebrow, but I forged forward, my voice rising. The words needed to be said. “So, something happened. So what? If you stop celebrating Christmas, how will you ever replace bad memories by good ones? Life’s for living, isn’t it?”
I looked at Ryan, he returned my gaze. For the longest time, neither of us said anything. My outburst lay upon the air. I bit my lip. I was offering unsolicited advice; talking about something I knew nothing about. I might have gone too far.
Finally, Ryan broke the silence. “I think your cookies might be burning.”
The cookies had just started to blacken at the bottom; I caught them just in time. I pulled the tray out of the oven and put them on a rack to cool. I walked back to the living room, with a couple of cookies in my hand.
“I’m sorry,” I said, holding a cookie out as a peace offering. “I had no right to yell.”
Ryan’s lips twitched. “Technically, you didn’t actually yell,” he said, taking the cookie. “Don’t worry about it, kitten.” He munched a cookie. “Mmm. These are tasty.”
His voice turned crisp. “Come on, you made me haul a tree up four flights of stairs, made me brave Christmas shopping traffic to get Nina’s decorations. Let’s get the tree decorated.”
Two hours later, we were finally done. The apartment was festooned with tinsel garlands, Nina’s paper garlands, and strings of lights. The 8-foot tree was covered in ornaments. Ryan had gallantly lifted me up so I could put the angel on top of the tree; a gesture that had brought tears to my eyes. Tears he’d very gently wiped away with a finger.
I went to turn off the lights of the living room, so we could turn on the Christmas lights, and admire our handiwork.
“Nope.” Ryan’s voice was firm as he stopped me, pulling me back on the couch next to him. “We only turn on the lights on Christmas Eve.”
“What? That’s insane.” My voice came out in a squeak of disbelief.
“A little bit of your tradition, Maya, and a little bit of mine.” There was a tiny bit of strain in his voice. “That was my mom’s rule,” he added.
Ryan rarely talked about his mom. To be fair, Ryan rarely talked about anything personal. He was probably the most private person I’d ever met. It was often frustrating. This was… special.
“My mom used to swear that the anticipation made it better,” he elaborated, grinning a bit at my clearly unconvinced face. “More likely, it was an effort to save money on the electricity bill.”
“Tell me more,” I said softly, holding my breath. This story felt like a powerful, unexpected gift.
“We were always poor, growing up,” he said quietly. “But my mom was awesome. She always made sure I had a home, a safe place. There was always one present under the tree for Christmas. Just one. Any more, my mom would say, and it wasn’t special. One perfect present.”
“You don’t talk about her often,” I said. I reached over, took Ryan’s hand in mine, and rested my head on his shoulder.
“What can I say, Maya?” His voice was unspeakably sad. “She died too young, and I miss her every day. It’s like a deep pit, Maya, a deep pit of loss. You can’t see the bottom; you just put a plank over it, and don’t look down.”
I could relate to every word he said. It was an eloquent description of sadness, of pain and loss. There was a lot of Ryan hidden behind the façade of amusement and mockery, hidden bits usually only revealed in his writing. His books sold millions of copies for a reason. I squeezed his hand between mine, and stayed silent.
“Is this why you don’t celebrate Christmas?” I asked, tentatively.
“No,” he said, shaking his head, his voice losing that faraway sadness. “That’s something else.”
What is it, then? I wanted to cry out. There was something I didn’t know, something he wasn’t telling me. But I held my tongue. He had told me more about himself than he ever had before, and I wasn’t going to sully that gift with my curiosity.
“So, if we can’t turn on the Christmas lights, what do we do instead?”
Ryan ran his free hand, the one that wasn’t clasped in mine over my covered breasts. My nipples instantly hardened. “Oh, I think we can find way to occupy ourselves, don’t you?” he said wryly, as his mouth descended on mine. I wound my arms around his neck, kissing him back. I poured all the need and love I felt into that kiss; my gratitude for all he’d done for me; my intense desire for him; I held nothing hidden as I kissed him back. Our tongues snaked together, a dueling dance of lust, as the overwhelming need to be possessed by him rose in me, stronger than ever.
He drew back, looked at me. Was that love I saw in his eyes, did I dare to hope? I closed my eyes momentarily, controlled my emotions. I could not let myself hope. I met his gaze with a look that had desire and lust written all over it.
“Shall we go to the bedroom?” I asked.
Chapter 12
He removed my clothing efficiently; positioned me on the bed, doggy-style. My head was pushed down, my knees spread wide. My pussy was already gushing.
Like last night, I was in spotlight, while the rest of the room was in darkness. Spotlights in both the playroom and the bedroom? Nicely done, Mr. Clayborn, I thought wryly.
“Stay put, Maya. I’ll be right back,” Ryan said.
I stayed as he’d positioned me, feeling very exposed. The bedroom was warm, the heat enveloping me like a blanket. I could hear the noises of the street, muted by the closed windows. I could feel the almost-painful ache of my pussy. My nipples felt elongated, sensitive. Despite the heat, goosebumps rose on my skin. I took deep breaths, trying for calm.
Ryan wasn’t gone long. “Maya,” he said, as he returned, an undercurrent of laughter in his voice. “I seem to recall that you were interested in trying out a larger size of butt plug, weren’t you?”
I gulped. Silly Maya, I thought ruefully, but I was already answering him. “Yes please, Ryan.”
“And we never did use the handcuffs from our session in the playroom the other day.” He came around the side of the bed; handcuffs dangling from his hands.
“I’d hate to think I wasn’t pleasing you, Maya,” There was open amusement in his voice; he was enjoying this. “I’d hate to think that your needs weren’t being met.” He knew perfectly well that he drove me insane with pleasure. There was no doubt in his voice. This was just teasing; an arousing prelude.
“That would be terrible indeed,” I said snidely, my face still buried in the bed.
Smack. His hand made contact my ass, pushing my face deeper into the bed. I braced myself as best I could with my elbows. The warmth of his touch spread through me. I moaned, softly.
“Don’t be snide, Maya.” His voice was level.
“I also brought back the nipple clamps,” he said. “It’ll be a useful distraction from what I’m about to do to your ass, kitten. Here, straighten up for a second.”
I got onto my knees; I was still facing the headboard. Ryan came around the side again, and two efficient moves later, the clamps were on my nipples, squeezing them, sending pain and pleasure waves pul
sing through me. The chain connecting them dangled down my chest.
Ryan’s fingertips brushed my breasts lightly. He was again in the dark; I couldn’t see his expression.
“Open your mouth a little,” he instructed. He lifted the chain. I hissed. When the chain moved, the clamps tugged at my nipples, sending waves of longing coursing through my body. “Take the chain in your mouth, hold it there.” His voice was firm. His fingers positioned the chain at my lips; I obediently held the chain in place, as he’d ordered.
My hands clenched at my side. The chain in my mouth was short enough that it pushed my breasts together and upward, stretching my throbbing nipples to a point that was so close to the dividing line between pleasure and pain. The aching in my pussy intensified, as I struggled to breathe evenly, to ease some of the relentless pressure racing through my body.
I could feel him now, on the bed, the mattress buckling slightly as he climbed on. He took one of my hands in his, I could hear the click of the handcuffs; then the other, and my hands were cuffed behind my back. I shivered a little. The steel of the handcuffs were a cold counterpoint to the warmth in the room. Goosebumps again rose on my skin.
“You can drop the chain to safeword, but for nothing else.” Ryan’s voice was easy; but the words an unmistakable order. I nodded. I was kneeling on the bed, totally naked, under a spotlight, my hair cascading down, hands cuffed behind my back, clamps on my aching nipples, the chain connecting the two in my mouth. I blushed. I could imagine what I looked like; it was an erotic image.
“And now, back down.” His voice was soft.
His hands were firm against my body, but he was careful when positioning me, placing my head on a pillow, making sure I was balanced, and my nipples weren’t painfully squished against the bed. My pussy gushed and my heart softened. He was so very, very perfect.
Whoa. I could feel the lube trickle down on my lower back, his fingers again massaging the lube into my tightly clenched butthole. “Relax,” he chided, softly, inserting a finger into me; wiggling it gently to gain traction and push deep in. I moaned. I felt invaded; entirely in his power. I loved it.
His other hand reached out to stroke my clitoris. It was engulfed in a sea of wetness. He chuckled in appreciation; I blushed furiously. “Kitten, I think you are quite enjoying yourself, wouldn’t you agree?”
I made no reply. It seemed rather obvious I was having the time of my life.
Smack. Ah, a reply was evidently required. My mouth was still holding the nipple chain, and I could not talk. I nodded instead.
Another finger added. There was more resistance this time; I clenched tight against the invasion, slivers of pain running through me.
“Maya.” His voice was ice. “We will be here all night if we have to. Relax your muscles.”
I struggled to obey, fists clenched behind me in the unyielding handcuffs. Tingles of arousal shot all down my skin, as my body responded to his voice; to his quiet confidence.
“Much better, kitten.” His voice was warm, approving this time, as I did my best to relax my muscles. His second finger wiggled deeper. He held still, giving my body time to adjust to the feel of his fingers in my most secret hole.
How big is this butt plug, exactly? I wondered, with slight nervousness. My muscles clenched involuntarily around his fingers as my body reacted to that thought.
“Very nice, Maya. I’m going to like the way your muscles clench around my cock, when we have anal sex.” His voice dripped with satisfaction. My body tightened in nervousness and a little lust. “Not today though, kitten.” There was laughter in his voice, in response to my tension. “Just the butt plug today, one step at a time.”
The throbbing in my nipples had faded to a dull, background ache that provided a faint counterpoint to the dripping ache in my pussy and the filled intensity in my back passage.
He began to slowly pump his two fingers in and out of my tight, puckered asshole. I winced in anticipation of the pain, but it was less painful than I’d expected. He’d been generous with the lube, and I could feel his fingers slide in and out of me, alternately filling me, and emptying me, and then starting all over again. My breasts swayed as his fingers pumped me, and the tension on the chain eased and tightened, pulling on my nipples in a mix of intense pleasure and pain. I groaned. This was incredible. Every nerve in my body was alive; focused on the pleasure he was so adeptly building up in me.
He pulled his fingers out. I moaned, protesting the sudden emptiness. But not for long; I could feel the cool tip of the butt plug against my ass. I bravely pushed back into it; I craved the fullness.
“Ah, kitten, you drive me crazy.” His voice was husky. I gushed again. Hearing his arousal was taking me even higher on the path of pleasure; his need feeding me, and mine feeding his. He pushed the plug into me in one steady, unrelenting move. I yielded; the plug was in.
I felt… filled. Stretched. Very, very possessed by him. I was very conscious of the control he had over me; the erotic imagery of my body moving in response to his orders. My pussy was dripping; arousal and longing danced through my body. I groaned. I wanted to beg and plead for more. But I still had a chain in my mouth, and I couldn’t talk. I could only thrust my hips towards him in silent invitation.
I could feel him move; and then, in one easy thrust, his shaft was buried deep in my pussy. I yelped in surprise. “Okay?” he asked, quick concern in his voice. I nodded. I’d been surprised, not in pain. But I felt filled to bursting with both the butt plug in my ass, and Ryan buried in my pussy.
He held still as my body grew used to the feel of the dual invasion. I nodded again after about thirty seconds of stillness, and moved against him, experimentally, begging him silently to continue.
His hands roamed over my body, as he took me up on my invitation, and resumed pounding my pussy. His deep strokes were causing my breasts to bounce forwards and back, and the pain in my nipples provided momentary distraction from the pleasure in my pussy, till the pain blended into pleasure, and his fingers found my needy clitoris, and I was quivering, moaning, exploding in a sea of pleasure. He increased the intensity of his thrusts as he felt my pussy quiver around him, until finally, he erupted into me with a choked-off shout.
I purred with pure satisfaction, as he collapsed on the bed next to me, met my eyes. I was still positioned doggy-style, with the chain in my mouth.
“You can let go of the chain now,” Ryan said, his eyes warm and appreciative of my obedience. He removed the handcuffs and the butt plug, unclamped my nipples, his mouth swiftly lowering on my nipples as the clamps came off and I moaned as the blood rushed back into my nipples.
“A girl could get used to this,” I said idly, as we lay next to each other in the aftermath. Immediately, I regretted my words. I wanted more, but I wasn’t going to throw myself at him, yet again. I was going to leave on New Year’s Day. If he wanted to be with me beyond that, this time, he would have to make the move. I wanted him to want to be with me with the same frightening intensity that I wanted to be with him.
He didn’t reply. My brain swirling with unease, I fell asleep.
***
The second day I was in Paris, I had stated my need to buy a dress for Gayla’s party, and had taken myself lingerie shopping. Ryan had begged off, shuddering in mock horror at the idea of spending a morning with me shopping for clothes. I’d spent an insane amount of money, but it had totally been worth it.
All week, I’d been wearing pieces from that shopping trip, and the look in Ryan’s eyes had been my reward. I’d felt seductive and alluring. I had come so far; I was so far removed from the girl who was convinced that a failure to orgasm with her partner made her some kind of sexual freak.
I surveyed myself in the mirror, early in the evening on Christmas Eve. I’d been saving this particular set for a special day. The plum coloured bustier hugged my every curve. My ass was beautifully accented by a thong that revealed more than it concealed. Suspenders and stockings completed the look.
“Hmm.” The sound of a throat clearing, and Ryan stood in the doorway of his bedroom, surveying me. He looked transfixed. I smiled; a smile of pure feline pleasure. I liked this reaction.
“You like?” I looked innocently at him. I twirled, to give him the 360-degree view.
“Oh yes, Maya.” Ryan’s gaze was smouldering, his voice hoarse. My eyes lowered to his crotch, where I could see the outline of his hard-on. I very deliberately licked my lips.
“I can’t quite reach the last clasp,” I lied shamelessly, gesturing to the bustier. “Can you help me?”
Ryan closed his eyes. “Heaven help me,” he mumbled, as I walked towards him. I turned my back to him, and leaned against his hard chest.
“Maya,” his voice was ragged. “We have dinner reservations.”
“Of course.” My voice was a study in innocence. But my complacency lasted only for a moment. I took a swift intake of breath as his fingers were on my ass, tracing the outline of the thong. I pushed myself into him, craving more, but he laughed, and held my hands in one firm hand. “Which clasp needs done, my pretty little liar?” he whispered into my neck. He straightened. “Get dressed, Maya.” His eyes were glinting, his voice was pure amusement. “I’ll punish you for the lying after dinner.”
The sexual tension lay heavy in the air as we ate dinner. We’d made love, twice, sometimes three times a day for a week now, and he still had to look at me, and I was soaking wet, quivering with need. He wasn’t unaffected either, though he hid it better beneath his effortless poise. But there was a glint in his eyes, a smouldering look when he gazed at me. I couldn’t wait to get back to the apartment.
“So, Maya,” Ryan said laughing, as we entered the apartment, and Ryan closed the door behind him. “You’ve been very, very naughty.”
“I have, indeed.” My voice was a thread of need. I shivered in arousal. “Are you going to punish me?”
“Oh yes, kitten.” I could hear the anticipation in his voice. He looked at me with that look; the one that said that he was in charge. “Go to the playroom, Maya, bring the crop that’s laid out on the bed.”
Teaching Maya Page 10
