One Year With Him

by CD Reiss

  His hands stopped massaging and pressed open my cheeks. “How are you feeling?”

  “It doesn’t hurt as much as it did.”

  “In a minute, it won’t hurt at all. It’s going to be the complete opposite.” His voice contained nothing but surety and confidence, and that made me feel safe enough to push into him again. He tensed so that he slid all the way in. He pulled out slowly, coating my ass in unexpected pleasure.

  “Ah, that’s good, goddess. Very good.”

  I pushed him back in, and I felt full, open, vulnerable, and cared for all at once. But I did not feel pain. It had gone away and been replaced by something wholly new. A harmony. The note was different, but the song was the same.

  As if sensing that, Jonathan took control, pulling his cock from my ass and pushing it back in again. He waited.

  “Do it,” I said. “Sir. Please. Fuck me in the ass.”

  “Your filthy mouth,” he growled. “I love it.”

  He slapped my ass and took complete control, thrusting against me, holding my cheeks open so he could get all the way in. I grunted. The feeling of being stretched past my limit was overwhelming, as powerful as relinquishing myself to his pace. The water splashed around us, still hot, still soapy. We leaned into it until only my ass was over the surface. He reached under the water, to my pussy, and hooked two fingers in me, using the grip as leverage. The heel of his hand rubbed my clit every time he pounded my ass.

  “You’ve got it, Monica.”

  “Sir, may I come?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “Don’t you dare.” He grunted it, no help as his hand kept at my pussy. I tried to think of the feeling on my asshole, the pulling and stretching. The raw sensation and the pleasure of the friction. The feeling of being full with him.

  “Soon,” he groaned.

  I did scales on the marble, pressing the correct fingers to the counter for each note. I crossed over in my head and went back down the scale, choosing a B-flat because it always gave me trouble. Anything not to come.

  “Please,” I cried, “sir, god please.”

  “Three more.”

  He took me three more times and barked a “yes.” I came with him, feeling my asshole pulse and clench around his cock. He filled me, and I felt him throb, emptying himself in a long, powerful groan.

  Still in me, he put his arms around me and held me tight. He pulled me up until he sat on the ledge, and I was on his lap with his dick lodged in my ass. We panted together for a moment before he shifted and slipped out of me. My asshole felt uncomfortable, as if his cock was still hard and huge in me.

  “Ah, that feels weird.”

  “It’s still open. Give it a minute.”

  He held me still, moving my hair off my shoulder, kissing the back of my neck, while gradually I went back to normal. Sore. Fucked in ways I’d never been fucked before, but normal. Functional.

  “You didn’t tie me down,” I said.

  “You seemed too tense. I decided on the tub instead.”

  I twisted to face him. “You’re a good listener.”

  “Thank you. Now, back to bed, no?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Yes to everything.”

  Chapter 52

  JONATHAN

  I slept five hours.

  When I woke, she was tangled in me. I lay there another forty-five minutes, just pressing my nose to her scalp and filling my head with her scent of canned peaches. As of that very minute, my job was to keep her. Make her happy. I slipped out from under her and packed my things for a trip home, then to Seoul, with her.

  I ordered breakfast, and by the time it came, her eyes were open.

  “Good morning,” I said.

  She put the pillow over her head and turned onto her side. I slowly pulled the sheets off her, revealing her perfect body. I slid my hand between her legs. It was a compulsion. Rolling her on her back, I pulled her legs apart. She grunted under the pillow.

  “I didn’t hear you,” I said.

  “I didn’t brush my teeth yet.”

  “I won’t kiss you then.” My fingers found her cunt. I rubbed the moist skin in the center, and she groaned.

  “You look so clean and together,” she said.

  “How’s your ass feel?”

  “Fucked.”

  I slapped inside her thigh. The sound was hard and final. “Wider.”

  She looked at me as she obeyed, spreading her legs as commanded. I didn’t have a game plan. I just wanted to see her. I bent to put my face between her legs and licked her lightly. She tasted of sweat, sex, and a little of my orgasm. She whispered my name, and I picked up my head.

  “Take a shower, goddess. Breakfast is here. And no touching.” I gave her clit a cruel flick that made her yelp and made me smile.

  She kissed me quickly before trundling off to the shower. I caught her wrist and pulled her to me, kissing her as hard and deep as she deserved.

  Chapter 53

  MONICA

  Darren wasn’t coming back to L.A. with us. His return ticket was good, and he and Adam decided to head back together. I assumed my faux-brother was going home as entangled as I was.

  Jonathan and I decided to leave the hotel late. Breakfast had been picked over as if attacked by a murder of crows. We sat together on the couch. Jonathan was under me, bare feet up on the cushions, and my back was to his bare chest. I still wore the robe I’d left the shower in. I had a hotel notepad on my lap, and he stroked my shoulder to the collar while kissing the back of my neck.

  “If I gagged you,” Jonathan said, “I’d do it in such a way that you could still say your safeword.”

  “Okay, so we’ll put it as a yes?” I wrote down ‘gag.’

  “If you want. There are aspects that aren’t interesting to me.”

  “Then why’s it on the list?”

  “I’ll try anything you want to.”

  “I don’t understand. I’m crossing off things left and right.”

  “I don’t get to cross off soft limits. Hard limits, like sharing, yes. But anything that’s not disgusting to me, I do it if you want to. That’s my job.”

  I tapped the eraser on the pad. “What other aspects of gagging are you talking about? Besides that I can’t talk right.”

  “We can do it if you want.”

  “No, it was just something that wasn’t horrific.”

  He paused to run his fingertip over my shoulder. “There’s an element of humiliation. Not that you can’t talk at all, but you’re reduced to grunts. With a ball gag, it’s more pronounced, and you add drooling. It reduces the sub to her most primal, animalistic self. She relinquishes control over her voice and her spit.”

  It was my turn to pause. “Have you used a ball gag on someone?”

  “Yes. It’s not my favorite thing. I prefer when your silence and submission are a choice. And the humiliation makes me uncomfortable.”

  I bit my lip. “But cloth doesn’t sound too bad.”

  “Put it on the maybe list.”

  I flipped pages until I found the maybe list and put gag with cloth at the bottom of the page. Jonathan looked at his watch. “We’ve been at this two hours.”

  I craned my neck to look at the clock. “Wow.”

  “You’re very thorough. But we can continue this on the plane.” He said it as if he was ready to go, but his hand slipped under my robe.

  “Jonathan, what are you doing?”

  “Adding something to the list.” He undid the robe’s belt. “Spread your legs. If I told you this in words, you’d say no. I want to show it to you.”

  “What is it?”

  “Knees up. Open all the way. You have to trust me.” His fingers reached between my legs, finding my cleft wet from the sex talk and stolen kisses. Gathering moisture from my hole, he ran his fingers to my clit, two fingers circling it.

  “This goes on the yes list.” I arched my back.

  His hand came off me and back down with a solid slap. I cri
ed out at the deep sting of pain, gasping. But like a firework shooting into the sky with a hard streak, the explosion afterward lit up the sky.

  “Do it again,” I groaned. He did, and again the pain was followed by its sister, pleasure. I’d slid all the way down and was fully supine, head in his lap.

  “So this goes on the yes list?”

  “Yes. Again, please.”

  “You’re insatiable.” He cupped my chin and kissed me. “Later. We have to go.”

  “Jonathan?” I closed my legs and shifted to look him in the eyes.

  “Monica.”

  “Did you have anything to do with Kevin getting arrested?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “He’s traveled before, so it was weird he suddenly got on a watch list. And then for him to get picked up now? Those warrants have been out forever.”

  “It had to happen sometime.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “But did you have anything to do with it happening now?”

  He stroked my bottom lip pensively. “No.”

  Chapter 54

  JONATHAN

  I gave Jacques and Petra the cockpit-door-closed order, which they were more than used to, and I had Monica twice on the plane. The first time, I had her in a seat like a normal person. The next time, on the galley counter because I could.

  We didn’t get much further on the list, but we’d made such good progress already that I wasn’t concerned about it. Her commitment opened her up to communication about what we were doing in a way that hadn’t existed before. She was thoughtful and full of questions. Part of me wished we’d done it sooner, and another part was glad it had taken time.

  I let her have the window as we circled Los Angeles over the miasma of smog. She leaned against me. I had my arm around her and pulled her as close as as the seat belts allowed, putting my nose in her hair.

  “Last night,” I said, “I told you I loved your filthy mouth.”

  She turned to me. “Yes?”

  “I lied.”

  “Really? Should I say ‘have intercourse with me’ when I want it?”

  “No. God no. What I meant was, I love your filthy mouth. And I love your mouth when it sings and jokes. I love your body, and everything it does to me. I love when you come, when you squirm under me, begging for it. I love your hands, and your eyes. I love your honor and integrity. I love your loyalty, your intelligence. I love your honesty, even when it hurts me. I’ve fallen in love with you, Monica. I didn’t think it would happen to me again, but it did. Thank you.”

  She stared at me, big brown eyes wide, mouth parted just a little. I didn’t think I’d scared her but shocked her. If I’d used three words to say the same thing, I might not have faced the same silence, but those three words would have been inadequate.

  “You’re welcome,” she said.

  I laughed.

  The intercom buzzed as Santa Monica Airport came into sight. “Sir?” came Jacques’s voice. “Can you come up front?”

  I kissed those parted lips and unbuckled. “Give me a sec.”

  “Way to kill a moment, Drazen.”

  I kissed her again, half standing. She put her hands on my neck so I couldn’t get away and kept them there until I took her wrists and pulled them down. I walked backward to the cockpit door and opened it.

  “Yes, Jacques?”

  He pulled off his headphones. “Sir, I just got a call. The LAPD is waiting on the runway.”

  Chapter 55

  MONICA

  When he got back, his contented expression had changed to something more pensive and tense. He sat and buckled without looking at me. When I took his hand, he clasped back as if making a perfunctory gesture.

  “What?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Jonathan. Don’t shut me out.”

  He held my hand tight as the plane dropped down to land. “I get sued all the time. It’s not even anything. I have lots of things people want. So they come after me.” He looked at me finally. “I’m used to it, and I’ve learned to manage it. So I’m not worried about anything. But you… I’m worried about what you’ll think.”

  “Remember the part of the trip where I committed myself to you?”

  He sighed, looking resigned in a way I’d never seen. “I have no idea what this is about. But the LAPD is on the tarmac, waiting for me.”

  I didn’t realize my mouth was hanging open until I had to close it to speak. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. But I want you to stay on the plane until I’m gone or until I come and get you. I’ll have Lil make sure you get home. Pack. I’ll call you. We may be off to Korea later then planned, but make sure you’re ready.”

  “No.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Is there a good reason you need to exit the plane immediately?”

  “I want to be with you.”

  “Sweet, but no.” He must have seen my determined look. He added, “Please.”

  I sat back as the wheels touched down. We held hands as the plane taxied to the gate. Two black and whites waited, lights flashing. I didn’t like it. I knew plenty about cops. I knew how they stood and how they walked. Sonny Rodriguez had been shot gangland style on my corner. On the other end of my block was a narrow strip called “Ghost Alley” because of all the murders there. Those days were done in the neighborhood, but the cops, the questions, and the tension lived and breathed in my mind.

  The Santa Ana winds whipped around the plane and bent every palm tree in sight. The wind sock on top of the control tower was held still and erect.

  Jacques came back, not his usual polite self, and opened the door with the steps behind it. It fell with a scrape to the concrete. Jonathan stood up, and with a look back to me and a raised finger indicating I should stay put, he walked out.

  I unbuckled and went to the other side of the plane, pressing my face to the window. There was talk, and four officers surrounded him, which didn’t happen unless some sort of violence was involved. Weird. Unless there was a great donut shop by the airport and two extras needed an excuse to come.

  My view was obscured by the wing, but it looked as if they were handcuffing Jonathan.

  No.

  Sorry, but no.

  I don’t know what I expected to do, but I ran out as he was led to the car by the stocky cop on his left. I didn’t call out or demand anything because another cop stepped between us with her hands out.

  “Stop. Are you Monica Faulkner?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  I held up my hands to show they were empty and craned my neck to see around her. I heard the stocky cop’s voice uttering the words of the Miranda Act. Jonathan asked something, seeming so together and calm, a picture of control. The Santa Ana winds brought two words of the cop’s answer.

  Domestic violence.

  Jonathan glanced at me and smiled before the cop helped him into the back seat of the cruiser.

  Part III

  Resist

  Chapter 56

  MONICA

  At 11:23 a.m., I turned past the historic fig trees. The gate opened. I pulled the Honda in and parked next to the Jag. I checked my face in the mirror and went up to the porch. I dropped my bag and knocked. Waited. As I was about to knock again, the gate clattered closed. The button for the gate was just behind the front door, so he must have been there. I had no idea how long he’d make me stand outside. Patience was always a part of his game.

  The door opened. His hair was brushed back and clean, his face shaved. He wore a tan polo that was tight in the arms, accentuating his hard, smooth biceps. His jeans hung on his hips as though they were made for him. And the motherfucker had the nerve to wear a belt.

  “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said. His eyes, however, didn’t look sore at all. He looked as if nothing ever touched him. I had no idea how he did that.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. “I was worried.”

  “I’m fine. It’s going to be fine.”

  I had been waiting to
hear that before I dealt with the other issue that had kept me from eating and sleeping for two days. “Then, what the fuck?”

  “What the fuck, what?”

  I crossed my arms. “What. The. Fuck. Jonathan.”

  He put his fingertips on my jaw and slid them to the side of my neck. I sighed at his caress. His thumb brushed my cheek, his pinkie tickling the sensitive part of my throat. I involuntarily tilted my head into him.

  “Your safe word?” he said.

  “Tange-fucking-rine. Now explain—”

  He grabbed the hair at the back of my head and yanked me to my knees. I lost my breath, the motion was so sharp and hard. I was kneeling in a second, and he flipped his pants open in a few swift moves. His dick was rigid and straight at my lips, glistening with a drop of liquid.

  I had told him about that fantasy the night I gave him the list that became a song. He said he wouldn’t fulfill it until I trusted him. I closed my mouth tight.

  “Open,” he commanded.

  I turned my eyes to him, his cock in the foreground of my vision. His face bent toward me. He slapped his dick against my lips, twisting my hair. I opened my lips to tell him to fuck himself, but I was unprepared for the ferocity with which he jammed his cock down my throat. I choked, gagged.

  He didn’t stop. He grabbed my hair with his other hand and pivoted me, controlling me, owning me. I felt as if he wanted me off balance and uncomfortable, held up not by my knees, but by the knots of hair in his fists that shifted my head where his cock wanted. I opened my mouth and throat and let him take me. I made noises there were no letters for. Spit ran down my chin, and when I looked up at him, he gazed back with fierce intensity. He took his dick out of my mouth.