by Lilia Moon
I grin into the blankets. Impatient Dom. One who knows just how much I like sweet postsex orgasms.
His hand cracks and I gasp as I realize it’s my pussy he’s just hit and not my ass. Someone’s feeling feisty today—and using moves he never would have tried a couple of weeks ago. Pussy spanking doesn’t live on the beginner shelf.
I wiggle a tiny bit, hoping for another one.
I get it, but this one is sharp, right to the edge of what still counts as pleasure for me.
My brain stutters. I’ve gotten my head a whole lot straighter in the past few weeks. It’s not the skill I was waiting for. Skills can be learned. It’s the bravery. I’ve always been willing to push myself right to the edge of who I am. I’m not saying that’s better or worse than what anyone else does, but it’s who I am. I was waiting for the man who could meet me there, who knows where his own bravery lives.
But hot damn, I don’t mind these new skills he’s growing either.
I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s moved into the inner sanctum of the Dom ranks faster than any trainee I’ve ever seen, and while I know it’s not because of his skills, the people in those ranks won’t let him stay a beginner at anything for long. Not when he’s so clearly one of them.
And so clearly mine.
His tongue licks straight up my pussy and then his hand is there again, a sharp, slapping beat as counterpoint to the warm tease of his tongue.
I bury my face in the blankets. This isn’t going to be a sweet orgasm, not even close. I have no idea how I still have one packing a wallop left inside me, but his tongue and his hands are chasing it and nothing inside me is awake enough to stop it.
I snicker and then groan as his wicked, talented tongue circles my clit. I don’t need to stop this orgasm or any other ones, and my Dom can be as evil as he wants. I always have the option to get even. I make a mental note to scoop up that vibe when we’re done, and then I’m done making mental notes. I’m gripping the covers in a desperate effort to hold still as his tongue wreaks havoc. I know what happens if I move, and it isn’t a pussy spanking. He likes his drums stationary.
He chases me right to half a breath before I go over—and then he stops the madness. His tongue glides, soft and slow in my folds as he hums into my most sensitive parts, singing some kind of gentle, ticklish lullaby to my marshmallow.
I feel the giggles rising up, and the softness. Always, the softness. He calls it out of me effortlessly now, stretching me out and spinning me full of air and light until softness is all of who I am.
Maybe mornings are redeemable.
LOVE: A Fettered Valentine
(as told by Ari)
That’s the end of NEED, but Ari thinks you should all come to the Fettered Valentine’s Day party. Consider it a series finale, or an order from your favorite switch, whichever you prefer. ;)
People keep saying there’s something in the pink drinks. There must be, and the evidence has never been more obvious than it is today.
I grin at the shiny pink streamers overhead. If you don’t look too closely, they’re covered in cute purple hearts. If you look closely, and most people are, they’re cute kinky purple hearts, alterations hand drawn by Sam and his minions and festooned all over the club in a stealth brat mission early this morning.
I, however, was not allowed to take part. Sam himself ushered me straight out the front door about ten seconds after I arrived. Apparently we weren’t the only ones invading the club at the crack of dawn.
I could have put the pieces together. My Dom’s favorite travel mug abandoned on the bar. The truck belonging to Matteo, the king of rope bondage, parked half a block away. The furtive glances every sub who was there this morning casts my way every time someone mentions my birthday.
I could have put the pieces together—but I won’t.
Sometimes life is better if you let it surprise you.
I look around at one of my favorite places in the world, filled with most of the people I love, and let myself glow like a light bulb. Fettered’s Valentine’s Day party might be my favorite one all year, because I’m a kinky romantic and everyone knows it. On this day, I get to be a very public marshmallow all day long.
I look over at where my guy is sitting on his stool, tapping out the rhythms of this night, and grin. He woke me up again this morning. He takes his life into his own hands every time he does it, because I don’t always wake up in a submissive mood—but I always love where we end up.
I hope he does it again soon. Right after the brand new tattoo on my ass is all healed up.
Jackson winks at me, but his face disappears as Damon crosses between us, Emily tucked in at his side. She’s wearing a brand-new yellow sundress, faithfully modeled on the old one. Chloe made her three of them because Emily’s Dom lacks control where yellow is concerned. This one is silk, and it’s gorgeous, and only Emily could pull off a shiny yellow sundress at a kink club in the middle of February.
Although I’m not sure her Dom is going to let her keep wearing it. He’s got a look in his eye.
Sam slides up beside me, and I blink. Hard. He’s got Soleil in his arms. We can have kids and babies in here when the events are non-alcoholic, and this one is, but still. I figured she’d be tucked at home with the puppy I helped her get her daddies for Valentine’s Day.
Then I see Evie dash through some legs behind him and I know something’s up. I give Sam a look. “What’s going on?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Damon called and said to be here and to bring the kids.”
My head swivels to follow my boss, who’s walking toward the stage.
Damon says a few words into Scorpio’s ear and takes her microphone. She gives it up without a fight, which means she can smell whatever just hit the airwaves too. Damon clears his throat and the club silences, except for Evie, who takes another few steps before she realizes nobody else is making noise anymore. Jimmy scoops her up and sits her on his shoulders, and all eyes are facing forward.
Damon clears his throat again, and I can practically feel his nerves. Obviously Emily can too, because she lifts a hand to his chest. Soothing her Dom, even if she has no idea why he’s nervy.
He settles the hand holding the mike on top of hers. “Everyone here knows that the amazing woman in my life plans a really great party.”
Nobody so much as breathes. We know better than to interrupt a scene.
He smiles. “I didn’t want her to plan this one.” He turns to face Emily and drops to one knee. “Marry me, sweetheart.”
Her eyes get as big as eyes can go.
Sam is a pillar of shocked joy beside me, and he’s not alone.
Damon chuckles and kisses Emily’s hand. “Let’s do this today, love. Here, where it all started.”
In a beautiful silk version of her yellow sundress. I close my eyes in a quick nod to the boss man’s moves. We all missed today’s most stealth mission of all.
Emily has no words, but nobody needs them. Consent is written in her tears, in the blinding happiness of her smile, in the shaking of every part of her as Damon scoops her up and hugs her in tight.
We get about three seconds to melt into kinky goo and then Scorpio takes her microphone back. She looks over at Damon and gives him the evil eye. “You might think we can’t plan a wedding on two minutes’ notice, but you would be wrong.” She looks out at the audience. “Sam, make us an aisle. Band guys, figure out what the heck we’re playing. Chloe, flowers and something to tie them up with.”
Chloe flashes her a huge grin, pulls a streamer remnant out of her pocket, and starts plucking flowers out of the arrangements on the buffet table. Sam looks at me, eyes wide and panicked and full of glee. “The yellow ribbons and candles and bowls from when they did their first scene together. Where are they?”
The man is freaking brilliant. I grab Mattie, who’s charging our way, and shove us all in the direction of the back closet where we keep strange shit. It’s all in a box, hoping they might want it again
some day. This wasn’t what I imagined when I packaged it up, but I just won the award for world’s best packrat.
It takes us four minutes.
Four. Minutes.
Because that’s all we need, and because that’s all the time Damon is willing to give us.
In four minutes, we have Emily ready at the entrance to the lounge, her bare feet standing at the beginning of a gorgeous aisle of yellow ribbons and candles. We have a band ready to play whatever four rock-and-roll kinksters could come up with on short notice. Gabby has even managed to turn a bunch of the treats that used to be spread out on the tables into a stack of goodies that resembles a wedding cake. Evie and Tash are ready to jump out of their skins at their new job, and someone has quietly disappeared the flower carcasses that gave up their petals to be thrown wherever two little girls decide to throw them. Daniel is standing at the front, looking sheepish and proud and apparently ordained enough to officiate at a wedding.
And every heart in this place is ready to burst.
Damon has the mike again, and this time, there is no throat clearing. His eyes are glued to Emily, but he speaks to all of us. “This is our wedding, but we started here with all of you around us, and I hope we continue that way. If anyone else wants to promise to have and to hold and to sometimes tie up, or to renew those promises, the woman who is about to be my wife would like to invite you to stand up and join us.” He grins and finally looks out at all of us. “Apparently she had to plan something.”
There’s laughter in response, and teasing—and there’s movement. Other couples finding each other, some with sweetness, some with raised eyebrows, some with an ass swat or two to hurry things along. I grin as Sam and Leo lean together with Soleil squished between them. Grin harder as Daniel gets joined by his sub. Those two have a wedding date set in six months, but it looks like they might be getting in a practice session. But it’s Scorpio who makes me grin hardest, backing away from Harlan with utter panic in her eyes and yes on her lips.
I finally just let my grin take over my face, because the awesomeness has no end. I see Quint and Meghan, both shaking their heads and laughing and hopping up to sit on the bar for a really good view. Eva and Tank, looking terrified and glowing like sunbeams. Doxie, quietly cuddled in to Jimmy, gazing out in soft delight on what the two of them started. Mattie and Milo haven’t gone anywhere, but I know as soon as I see their joined hands over her belly that this day isn’t done handing out its surprises yet.
An arm slides around my waist. “I know we aren’t making lifelong promises quite yet, but will you come sit in my lap while I play the drums?”
I close my eyes. I should have gone to him. I suddenly wish, with all my heart, that I had.
His fingers turn my chin to face him. “No way, beautiful. Don’t you dare apologize. We’re exactly perfect right where we’re at and I’m not looking to speed anything up.” He kisses me, soft as butterfly wings. “But maybe if we sit close enough to the action, it will be contagious.”
I close my eyes, lean in, and tell my immune system to go take a nap.
I’m pretty sure I feel a sneeze coming on.
(THE END.)
Ari: Hey, nice people. I told you I’d be back.
Sam: Wait another minute or two, sugar. They’re still high on wedding fumes.
Ari: That’s the best time to tell them to buy the next book. Because they really should. It’s full of Matteo’s rope tricks and hot sex and Lilia wrote the best person for him. I love Liane! I also love India. And Daley. Artists make really amazing kinky people. This is going to be a fab trilogy.
Sam: I love that she named a kitten Trouble instead of me.
Ari: Ha. Twisted Strands, everyone. In which the most troublesome character isn’t a person named Sam. Preorder here. (Go to www.liliamoon.com if you can’t follow links from here.)
Sam: Some of them might like to wait.
Ari: In that case, they should sign up for Lilia’s email list. Because after this trilogy there will be my new series. And Jackson’s. And some cows, because apparently I’ve lost my ever-loving mind.
Sam: Focus, sugar. Preorder or email list, sexy reader people. Pick one.
Ari: Lilia wants us to give choices.
Sam: We did. We gave them two.
Ari: Some of them might want to wait and catch it later.
Sam: Seriously? That’s how you miss out on the good stuff, people. Don’t listen to her.
Ari: Freely given consent, Sam.
Sam: They will miss out on spankings. And adorable Soleil sightings. And what happens when an idiot Dom tries to put a kitten in a canoe.
Ari: Sam. Spoilers.
Sam: Oops.
