Caressa’s Knees

by Caressa's Knees (html)

  The woman shook her head, grieving now. “I can’t make her stop. I don’t know what to give her to replace it. Music is all she’s ever known. I can’t make it up to her. All that obsession and mourning. The way she cried… So many tears. I can’t, Kyle. I don’t know how to start that conversation.”

  “Wake her up. Let’s have it now.”

  “No!” Denise gasped in horror. “No—”

  “No. We can’t have her stop now, can we? She has a tour to finish.”

  “Well, she does. You can paint me as the avaricious stage aunt, whatever. You can believe what you want. But I told you before, don’t open this can of worms. Not yet. Soon. Someday she’ll choose for herself to be done, and I’ll respect that. But she’s not ready yet.”

  “How do you know?”

  “She chose Saint-Saëns herself. What else, but as a swan song? There’s not much higher to go. She may not even realize it herself, but I believe she understands this has to end at some point. But she has to finish this tour. She’s trying to prove something. She’s seeking something.”

  “Expiation?” Kyle asked after a pause.

  “Perhaps.” Denise set her jaw, appealing to him. “If she is, will you be so heartless as to stop her?”

  Kyle could be heartless. He had been heartless many times. He glanced in the mirror at Caressa in the backseat, clutching her cello as she slumbered in the reclined seat. No, he’d been heartless before, but in this case, his heart was too engaged.

  Chapter Nine:

  Inside You

  Kyle and Denise decided to stop for the night just north of Orlando. Caressa heard Kyle call to make the arrangements while Denise took over the driving. It was just a few more miles now, and Caressa watched him from the backseat in the gathering dusk. His hand rested on one long muscular thigh, over dark designer jeans. His traveling clothes. He looked tired and she knew it was her fault. When they’d stopped a couple hours earlier for dinner, she’d apologized to him for wigging out about the flight change. He’d reached out for her, slid a hand behind her neck and pulled her close.

  “It’s okay,” he’d said. That was how she knew Denise had told him the whole story. At least now she wouldn’t have to tell it herself. She might have told him eventually, but probably not. It just made people pity her. Well, most of the time. Back after it happened, when she’d been at the hospital getting bandaged and rehydrated, when she’d been a bundle of shock wrapped in a warm blanket, she’d overheard one of the nurses. She's lucky. It's a miracle she didn't die too. She could still bring that voice to mind, the hushed wonder and the look in the nurse’s eyes. No pity, just amazement.

  But Kyle pitied her. He looked back at her now with that panther-dangerous face sedated into gentle sympathy. “We’re almost there.”

  “I KNOW.” SHE WANTED TO SNAP AT HIM TO STOP LOOKING AT HER THAT WAY, BUT SHE BIT HER LIP. SHE FELT WRUNG OUT AND FRAGILE, NOT FIT TO DO BATTLE. TO BE HONEST, SHE DIDN’T WANT TO FIGHT WITH HIM ANY MORE. SHE WANTED HIM TO HOLD HER CLOSE AGAIN. SHE WANTED HIM TO FUCK HER HARD AND ROUGH. HE HADN’T TOUCHED HER THAT WAY—SEXUALLY, OR EVEN FLIRTATIOUSLY—FOR WEEKS. HE’D BEEN STD-TESTED AND EVERYTHING. IF HE WANTED TO…WHENEVER…RIGHT NOW, HE COULD PULL HER PANTS DOWN, RIP OFF HER PANTIES AND TAKE HER.

  SHE WONDERED HOW IT WOULD FEEL, SKIN-TO-SKIN. NO BARRIER BETWEEN THEM. HIS HOT, HARD COCK SLIPPING DEEP INSIDE. BUT IF HE EVEN WISHED TO DO SUCH A THING, HE GAVE HER NO INDICATION. IN QUIET TIMES, WHEN SHE LEAST WANTED IT, SHE REMEMBERED EVERY TIME HE’D TOUCHED HER, AND HOW HE’D TOUCHED HER. WHERE HE’D TOUCHED HER. THAT COMMANDING TONE IN HIS VOICE… HE STILL USED THAT TONE WITH HER, BUT ONLY TO TELL HER WHEN TO GET DRESSED, WHEN TO PRACTICE. THINGS SHE HAD TO DO. PLACES SHE HAD TO GO.

  Let me come to your hotel room.

  The words were so loud in her brain as she stared at him, she was amazed he didn’t hear them. He was watching the road, giving Denise directions. He had reserved them all separate rooms. Unfortunate. Well, she’d made her bed, so to speak. She’d have to lie in it—alone.

  It was hot, mid July, so as soon as Caressa let herself into her dated, shabby hotel room, she cranked up the air conditioner. She stood over it now in a scanty sleep tee and panties, her hair still wet from a low pressure shower. Not the best hotel they’d ever stayed in, but again, it was her fault. He’d driven for nearly eight hours because she was an idiot, so she wasn’t going to complain about the hotel he’d pretty much booked over the phone.

  The air conditioning unit was so loud, or perhaps the room was just so quiet. She barely heard the knock on the door over the unit’s rattling hum. She checked the peephole and swung the door open.

  He walked in, seeming too big for the space they stood in, trailing that devastating Kyle-scent she knew by heart. He took in her state of near-undress and shut the door behind him. He was still in jeans and a tee. His belt was cinched over iliac furrows she wanted to lick. Was that the belt he’d used on her?

  His expression was impossible to untangle, and she tried to keep her own emotions shuttered.

  “I just wanted to be sure you were okay,” he said quietly.

  “I’m fine,” she replied, trying for nonchalance. “You’re the one who had to do all the driving.”

  “Don’t be flip, Caressa. You know what I’m talking about.”

  She gave a wild laugh. “Am I okay? Do you really want to know? What do you think? I was doing well enough before you came along.”

  He slid a scathing look over her body again and turned to the door. “Okay. Good night.”

  “Wait!”

  He turned and she reached for him. God, please don’t go away. Please, just touch me. Just hold me for a minute. She was afraid he’d push her away and escape out the door, but he didn’t. He clasped her close and pressed his face against her hair. She shuddered from the sheer relief of him holding her. “Kyle, I don’t mean any of what I say to you. Ever. I’m just trying to drive you away.”

  A moment later his question came, muffled against her forehead. “Why?”

  “I DON’T WANT TO CHOOSE BETWEEN YOU AND…”

  “ME AND THE MUSIC? YOUR AUNT SAID THAT TOO. I’M NOT TRYING TO MAKE YOU CHOOSE ANYTHING.” HE PULLED BACK, TRACING A THUMB ALONG HER JAW TO HER CHIN. “YOU’RE SO AFRAID OF BEING MADE TO CHOOSE. IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE ME OR THE MUSIC. YOU HAVE CHOICES TO MAKE, BUT THE WAY I FEEL ABOUT YOU ISN’T ONE OF THEM. I’VE COME TO REALIZE THAT I LOVE YOU EITHER WAY.”

  SHE SUCKED IN A BREATH, TRYING TO COMPREHEND. TRYING TO BELIEVE. “YOU LOVE ME?”

  “I’M AFRAID SO. I’VE TRIED NOT TO. REALLY HARD.” HE GAVE HER ONE OF HIS CHARMING SMILES, HIS HANDS TRACING DOWN TO HER SHOULDERS AND THEN OVER HER HIPS. HIS WARM FINGERTIPS CAME TO REST BETWEEN THE GAP IN HER TEE AND THE WAISTBAND OF HER PANTIES. HE SOBERED, GAZING AT HER. “I’VE TRIED TO CONVINCE MYSELF IT’S JUST ATTRACTION. PASSION. BUT IT’S NOT. IT’S DEEPER THAN THAT.”

  “I LOVE YOU TOO.”

  “YOU DON’T HAVE TO SAY THAT JUST BECAUSE I DID. NOT UNLESS YOU MEAN IT.”

  “NO, I MEAN, YOU’RE RIGHT. I DON’T WANT TO LOVE YOU, BUT I DO. I THINK I DO. I’M PRETTY SURE…”

  HIS EYES SOFTENED, DARK BLUE IN THE DIM LIGHT. HE LEANED HIS HEAD TOWARD HERS AS IF HE MIGHT KISS HER, BUT HIS MOUTH STOPPED JUST A FRACTION FROM HERS, SO CLOSE SHE COULD FEEL HIS BREATH AGAINST HER LIPS. “I GUESS WE SHOULDN’T QUESTION IT. OR THINK ABOUT IT SO HARD.”

  HER SOFT AGREEMENT WAS CUT OFF BY A TENDER KISS, AND THEN ANOTHER. HIS HANDS TRAILED UP HER STOMACH AGAIN, UP TO CARESS HER BREASTS. HE WAS BEING TOO TENTATIVE, TOO GENTLE. SHE SLID HIM A SIDEWAYS LOOK. “I DON’T WANT A PITY FUCK.”

  “IF YOU EXPECTED A PITY FUCK I’M AFRAID YOU’RE GOING TO BE SORELY DISAPPOINTED. WITH THAT SAID, THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE TO SEND ME AWAY.”

  SHE DIDN’T ANSWER, ONLY PULLED AT THE HEM OF HIS SHIRT, PUSHING IT UP TO PRESS EAGER KISSES AGAINST HIS CHEST. HER FINGERS WORKED AT HIS BELT BUCKLE, AND THE BUTTONS OF HIS JEANS. SHE PEELED DOWN HIS BOXER BRIEFS AS HE WHISKED OFF HER SHIRT, FLI
NGING IT TO THE SIDE. HE WAS ALREADY FULLY HARD, AND SHE EXPLORED HIS COCK WITH HER FINGERS AS SHE FELL TO HER KNEES. HE STOPPED HER, TIPPING HER HEAD BACK.

  “I DON’T WANT AN APOLOGY BLOW JOB.”

  SHE SANK BACK ON HER KNEES AND BLINKED UP AT HIM IN FRUSTRATION. “I CHANGED MY MIND. I’M BACK TO HATING YOU.”

  HE LAUGHED, SHOVING HIS COCK AGAINST HER MOUTH. “I THINK WHAT WE HAVE HERE IS A POWER STRUGGLE. LET ME TAKE CARE OF THAT. OPEN, GIRL.” HE WAS TWISTING HER HAIR IN A FIRM GRIP THAT MELTED HER. SHE KNELT UP AGAIN AND TOOK HIM BETWEEN HER LIPS, THRILLED BY THE AGGRESSIVE WAY HE THRUST INTO HER MOUTH.

  HE GROPED DOWN HER FRONT, PINCHING HER NIPPLE SO SHE WHINED AGAINST HIS THICK ROD. SHE WANTED TO BEG FOR MERCY BUT SHE ALSO NEVER WANTED HIM TO STOP. WITH HIM, IT NEVER STAYED GENTLE. SHE DIDN’T WANT GENTLE FROM HIM.

  WHEN HE PULLED AWAY SHE FELT SHARP DISAPPOINTMENT, UNTIL HE PUSHED HER BACK ONTO THE FLOOR AND PINNED HER DOWN. SHE FOUGHT HIM A LITTLE, FOR NO OTHER REASON THAN SHE LIKED TO FEEL HIM RESTRAIN HER. HIS SOFT CHUCKLE SPURRED HER ON AND SHE FOUGHT HARDER, KNOWING SHE WOULD LOSE, BUT ENJOYING EVERY SECOND OF HIS SKIN SLIDING AGAINST HERS, HIS ROUGH BREATHS AND HISSES.

  HE’D REACHED OVER TO GRAB HIS SHIRT AND HE HELD IT NOW, TWISTING IT AROUND HER WRISTS OVER HER HEAD. HE BOUND THEM TIGHTLY, KNOTTING THE SHIRT AROUND THEM SO SHE COULDN’T ESCAPE NO MATTER HOW HARD SHE TRIED—AND SHE TRIED HER VERY HARDEST TO BE CERTAIN SHE REALLY COULDN’T.

  “SHH, SHH,” HE WHISPERED, TRYING TO SETTLE HER. “I WANT YOU BOUND.”

  “WHY?” HER VOICE SOUNDED ROUGH FROM PASSION, OR PERHAPS PANIC. HE LICKED HER, A SLOW, TEASING SLIDE UP THE SIDE OF HER ARM.

  “BECAUSE I LIKE YOU THIS WAY. KEEP YOUR HANDS OVER YOUR HEAD. DON’T MOVE THEM.” SHE WENT STILL AT THE COMMANDING TONE IN HIS VOICE, AND HER PUSSY THROBBED, GROWING WETTER AND WETTER. GOD, HER PANTIES HAD TO BE SOAKED. AS IF HE COULD READ HER MIND, HE SLID HIS HAND DOWN THE FRONT OF HER SILK BIKINI, RIGHT DOWN TO THE SPOT THAT ACHED WITH AROUSAL, AND THEN FURTHER.

  HIS FINGERS CURLED INSIDE HER, AND SHE FELT THE SLIPPERY WETNESS AS HE MANIPULATED HER FIRMLY, POSSESSIVELY. HER HANDS FLEW DOWN, HOBBLED TOGETHER AND UNABLE TO STOP HIM. HE PUSHED THEM BACK UP WITH TSK. “BE GOOD.”

  SHE STARED INTO KYLE’S EYES, SPELLBOUND BY THE INTENSITY SHE SAW THERE. HE MOVED AGAIN, GRABBING HER SHIRT NEXT AND WRAPPING IT OVER HER EYES. THE ROOM HAD BEEN DARK BEFORE, BUT NOW SHE SAW ONLY BLACKNESS. SHE CLUMSILY REACHED FOR THE BLINDFOLD, BUT HE STOPPED HER AND SHE STRUGGLED AGAIN, STILLED BY AN IMPOSSIBLY STRONG THIGH ACROSS HER HIPS. HER BREATH SOUNDED LOUD IN HER EAR, AND THEN CAME HIS WHISPER. “THE OTHER WOMAN—SHE WAS SO SUBMISSIVE. I THOUGHT I LIKED THAT, BUT I LIKE THAT YOU FIGHT BACK A LITTLE.”

  A LITTLE? SHE WAS INSULTED BY THAT, BUT THE FACT WAS, HE OUTWEIGHED HER BY AT LEAST EIGHTY POUNDS. SHE CLOSED HER EYES BEHIND THE BLINDFOLD, TRYING TO CALM DOWN. HE RAN FINGERTIPS DOWN HER SIDE AND DREW DOWN HER PANTIES. HE SPREAD HER LEGS WIDE, A POSITION HE SEEMED TO ENJOY PUTTING HER IN. HE PREVENTED HER FROM CLOSING THEM WITH A LEG SPLAYED ACROSS HER LEFT THIGH. “I KNOW YOU CAN’T SEE ME, BUT I WANT YOU TO TRUST ME, CARESSA. WE’RE GOING TO PLAY A LITTLE GAME CALLED ‘I TRUST KYLE’. OKAY? YOU CAN ANSWER YES, SIR.”

  Caressa turned her head, although she couldn’t see him. She jerked as his lips brushed softly against hers. “Yes, Sir.”

  HE KISSED HER AGAIN, THEN MOVED AWAY. SHE WANTED TO REACH OUT FOR HIM, BUT ONE OF HIS HANDS STEADIED HER ARMS BEFORE THEY COULD EVEN MOVE. SHE HEARD A WHISPER OF MOVEMENT AND THEN FELT FINGERS PARTING HER AND HOT BREATH AGAINST HER PUSSY LIPS. SHE SHUDDERED AS HE DEFTLY LICKED HER CLIT.

  “OH GOD.” SHE TRIED TO CLENCH HER LEGS SHUT BUT HE HELD HER OPEN, TEASING HER PUSSY LIPS WITH ARDENT SKILL. BEHIND HER CLOSED EYES SHE ENVISIONED HIS MOUTH, HIS SENSUAL LIPS, AND ACHED TO KISS THEM, EVEN AS SHE PRAYED HE WOULDN’T STOP. EACH WARM, SLICK STROKE OF HIS TONGUE WAS PURE PLEASURE, AND THE WAY HE HELD HER DOWN ONLY MADE HER BURN HOTTER FOR HIM.

  SHE FELT HERSELF LOSING CONTROL, TWISTING HER HIPS FOR MORE AND ARCHING AGAINST HIM. BUT THEN HE WAS GONE, HIS TALENTED TONGUE REPLACED BY TEASING FINGERS. SHE SWALLOWED A GROAN, LOST IN HER DARK WORLD OF POWERLESSNESS AND HUNGER. HER PUSSY ACHED FOR SATISFACTION, BUT HE SEEMED DETERMINED TO KEEP HER AT A STEADY LOW SIMMER.

  “MORE?” HE ASKED.

  “YES, SIR. PLEASE!”

  HIS FINGERS WERE WORKING UP INSIDE HER NOW, THOSE LONG, MANICURED FINGERS STROKING, BUILDING FIRE UPON FIRE. GOD, SHE WAS SOAKING WET. HE SLID HIS FINGERS FROM HER FLOODED PUSSY DOWN TO HER ASSHOLE. SHE FLINCHED AS HE PRESSED THERE, BUT HE DIDN’T WITHDRAW.

  “TRUST ME, CARESSA.”

  I TRUST YOU, I TRUST YOU.

  HE TOYED WITH HER PUSSY AND ASS, FILLING HER WITH HIS FINGERS AND MANIPULATING HER, MAKING HER HIPS BUCK FROM THE SHOCK OF HIS TOUCHES. SHE WRITHED ON THE FLOOR IN HELPLESS BLINDNESS, NOT WANTING TO PULL AWAY, BUT STILL FRIGHTENED BY THE INTIMACY BETWEEN THEM. WITHOUT SIGHT, EVERY TOUCH AND SENSATION FELT MULTIPLIED. FROM TIME TO TIME, WHEN IT SEEMED TOO MUCH, HE MADE SOOTHING NOISES THAT MADE HER SHIVER. HE WAS SO EXPERIENCED, SO COMFORTABLE WITH THIS DECADENCE, BUT THE BLUNT EROTICISM WAS SO NEW TO HER. DID PEOPLE REALLY PLAY LIKE THIS IN BED? WITH NO SHAME, NO BARRIERS OF PROPRIETY BETWEEN THEM? AS HE SOOTHED HER, HE ASKED QUIET QUESTIONS. HOW DOES THAT FEEL? DOES THAT HURT? DOES IT FEEL GOOD? DO YOU LIKE IT?

  She could barely concentrate, moaning answers and struggling against the thigh that held her pinned open to his probing assault. She felt like a top strung tight, about to go off but not quite able to. “Kyle…Sir…please!”

  He laughed and, in a tumble of limbs, had her turn over on all fours, pressing her head down on her tethered wrists in the front. When she tried to drop her hips, he stopped her and positioned her with her back arched and her ass in the air. She felt exposed—and deliciously dirty—as he went to wash his hands and return. Then she could feel his cock against the back of her thighs. She shivered as his hands came under her chest, fondling her breasts. Then she felt his fingers at her mouth.

  “Open.”

  She did, because his voice was so sharp and insistent. She felt soft silk against her lips, and realized with a start that he was shoving her own panties into her mouth. She tried to spit them out, pure instinct, but he persisted, pressing them in again until she capitulated. She was blind, bound, and speechless now. He took her faculties away so casually, and yet she knew there was a reason behind it all. Trust me.

  He knelt behind her and she moaned softly, aching for penetration as he slid the head of his cock over her clit. She jerked and bit down on the silk wad in her mouth, wanting to beg for more, but unable to.

  He leaned over her back so she felt his hard stomach against her, and then he took one of her hands in his. His hair tickled against the side of her face, and he smelled of sex and depravity. His other hand wrapped around her waist and she had the strange feeling of being adrift, tethered to the earth only by him. She couldn’t see, she couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move or reach for him. When he started to press into her, she knew true submission. She surrendered to all of it.

  He filled her and fulfilled her, driving deep with no latex barrier between them. Just like the submission, her arousal grew without conscious effort or intention. He felt so thick, so hot, pressing forward, riding her like he owned her. She began the thrilling climb to that peak, the shuddering clench and unbearable torture of coming closer and closer to the edge. She couldn’t draw full breath, another blatant reminder of his dominance and her submission. Another reminder of all she was willing to give up for him.

  She squeezed his hand, tighter and tighter. When he started to fuck her harder, in an uncontrolled, rough rhythm, she let go and he grasped her neck. Not choking her, no. He held his hand against her windpipe, and it felt protective, not dangerous. I could hurt you. I could kill you now, but I won’t. I love you. He’d said he loved her, and she knew she loved him. She’d wanted his possession and she had it. She came, arching back against his cock. Her hands strained in their bonds, and he gave an animal growl that felt like a pa
rt of the ecstatic throbbing between her legs. It all converged like some avalanche, or a volcano erupting and burning her. Brillante. Bravura. Crescendo magnifico.

  After, he took her panties out so she could speak if she wanted to. Perhaps he wanted her to, wanted to know her thoughts. But all she did was sigh and wait, his surrendered prisoner. A fermata, waiting at his discretion, trusting in the consummate skill of his touch.

  * * * * *

  KYLE SHIFTED IN HIS THIRD-ROW SEAT, TRYING NOT TO JAR THE PORTLY WOMAN BESIDE HIM. SHE WAS BEJEWELED AND CLAD IN A DARK SILK GOWN. HER PERFUME WAS CLOYING. KYLE RAISED HIS FINGERS TO HIS NOSE, DISCREETLY. HE COULD STILL SMELL TRACES OF CARESSA ON HIS HANDS FROM THE FERVENT FINGER-FUCKING HE’D GIVEN HER IN THE DRESSING ROOM. HE ONLY LET HIMSELF BREATHE IN THE FAINT SCENT FOR A MOMENT, LEST THE GROWING BULGE IN HIS PANTS DISTURB THE ORCHESTRA DENIZENS AROUND HIM.

  HE’D ASKED HER TO PUT ON THE DRESS AGAIN. WELL, NOT ASKED. HE’D ORDERED HER TO WEAR IT, AND WHEN HE’D LEFT HER BACKSTAGE, SHE HAD IT ON STILL, MINUS PANTIES. WHETHER OR NOT SHE MADE IT TO THE STAGE IN THAT LOVELY STATE REMAINED TO BE SEEN.

  EITHER WAY, IT SUITED HIM. IF SHE PANICKED AND CHANGED, HE COULD PUNISH HER FOR IT. IF SHE WORE IT, HE COULD REWARD HER. EITHER WAY SHE WAS HIS TO LOVE, TO PLAY WITH. THEY WERE IN CINCINNATI, ON THE LEG OF TRAVELS THAT CARESSA JOKINGLY REFERRED TO AS THE “HEARTLAND TOUR”. NEW ORLEANS, MINNEAPOLIS, DENVER, ALBUQUERQUE, PITTSBURGH, HOUSTON, DALLAS—A SERIES OF QUICK TRIPS AND MORE INTIMATE VENUES.

  SINCE ATLANTA, KYLE TOOK GREAT CARE TO GET THEM TO THE AIRPORT ON TIME OR EVEN EARLY. HE ALSO TOOK GREAT CARE TO KEEP CARESSA SURRENDERED TO HIM, BECAUSE IT SEEMED TO MAKE HER HAPPIEST, AND IT SURE AS HELL MADE THINGS EASIER FOR HIM. WHEN HE TOLD HER TO PRACTICE, SHE PRACTICED. WHEN HE TOLD HER TO DROP TO HER KNEES, SHE DROPPED TO HER KNEES. HE MADE HER TELL HIM HOW MANY MISTAKES SHE’D MADE AFTER EACH CONCERT, AND PUNISHED HER FOR THEM. SHE HADN’T HAD A TANTRUM IN WEEKS, AND SHE’D NEVER PLAYED WITH SUCH CONCENTRATION. EVEN DENISE COMMENTED ON IT, BUT KYLE MERELY SMILED AND DEFERRED TO HER TALENT. IT WAS, AFTER ALL, ALL FOR HER.