by Nikki Sloane
“I’m clean, Noemi. I always use condoms unless I’m in an arrangement and know we’re both all right. You’d be safe if you said it was okay for me not to wear one.”
I tensed. “Now is when you ask if I’m on the pill?”
“No, we don’t have to worry about that.”
His hand stirred faster and I shuddered. How could we not worry about it? It was the whole reason my parents leaped into their ill-fated marriage. “Joseph—”
“They had to use aggressive radiation. I can’t get you pregnant.”
I died a little, hearing what had been taken away from him. Another thing beyond his control. “You can’t have kids?”
His movements slowed to a stop and his gaze found mine, his expression uncomfortably blank. “I can, just not the old fashioned way. I don’t want to talk about that right now.” The fingers stirred and I twitched in response. “I want to talk about whether you want me to put on a condom, or if I can fuck this pussy with nothing between us.”
Joseph’s control was everything to him. He wouldn’t put himself in a position to get sick and have more taken away. And even though I believed him absolutely, I was on birth control, too. His hard dick pressed against me, slipping in the hollow between my legs, so he could rub against my clit. The skin on skin contact caused my eyes to roll back in my head. Think about how good it will feel . . .
I took a hand from the mirror, reached between my legs, and tried to guide him inside. He nudged my hand out of the way and took over, positioning me better so he could bring us together. The head of his dick pushed past my entrance and I gasped. The sensation with the plug . . . it felt good and distracted from the initial discomfort whenever Joseph crept inside.
He was so much bigger than what I was used to. It’s not like he was going to rip me in half, but my body needed time to adjust, and he always seemed aware.
“Jesus,” he said, letting out a long, deep sigh. “You feel so, fucking, good.”
Our breathing synchronized as he drew back and then gently pushed forward, all the way in.
“Fuck,” I whispered, unable to control my mouth. His dirty words were rubbing off on me.
“I’m about to lose my damn mind and fuck you senseless. Get ready.”
I lowered my face closer to the mirror, supporting myself better on my hands and putting my body in a more submissive position. Wordlessly asking for him to do what he’d said he was about to.
When he started, my heart pounded in my chest and thudded so loudly I wondered if he could hear it over the smack of our bodies together. My moans swelled as his steady, furious rhythm did. Every deep thrust touched the plug, reminding me of its filthy presence.
I throbbed and trembled, wanting the wave of pleasure he’d been able to coax out of me before. But he’d had battery-powered help last time. Would he touch me? Could his fingertips sliding on my clit while he pounded into me be enough to get me there?
“I want your hand between my legs, Sir,” I said breathlessly. “Please.”
Heat flashed in his eyes and a thrilled smile crossed his lips. “You asked so nicely.”
I moaned when he touched me. His thrusts sent me further forward until I had my forearms against the glass, and I clenched my hands into fists. Oh, God, it felt so good. My eyes closed and I gave over to the sensations.
The leather strap was swinging with his thrusts, so I pushed it over my shoulder, wanting it out of the way. He groaned and my muscles clenched. The belt around my throat began to tighten. What? My eyes fluttered open and went wide, realizing . . . oh God, when I’d put the belt over my neck, did he think—?
Yes, he did. The leather constricted and dug into my skin. It was uncomfortable, and the pressure on my windpipe made it even harder to breathe, and yet, it was unbelievable how badly I wanted him to go tighter. I stared at him through the mirror, my face full of need, and he watched me right back, his expression intent. Focused. His deep eyes seemed to study every attempt I made for air.
“If you want to stop,” he ordered, “open your hands.”
The belt tightened, the buckle biting into the side of my throat. I couldn’t breathe at all, and my mind began to turn, inching toward panic. My vision narrowed to a tunnel and blurred until we were nothing but blurry, faceless shapes. There was no way I could speak or tell him to stop, so I slapped an open hand against the mirror. I was going to pass out, any second now—
“Fuck, fuck . . . oh fuck!” I screamed as the belt released its choke. Only I wasn’t screaming in pain or anger. I was coming. I shattered with ecstasy so powerful it made my legs buckle and my eyes slam shut. Behind my eyelids, stars exploded and everything went tingly numb. The numb alternated to heat as if standing in a blast furnace, then back to arctic cold, with bliss layered on top of it all.
My scream faded to moans, as I just kept coming. My body broke apart, and Joseph gripped me tightly. He held me together as my mind disconnected from the rest of me and floated off to someplace else where everything felt like warmth and pleasure.
While I drifted in the space, he slowed to almost a halt, buried deep. His hands freed the belt from my neck and it thudded to the carpet. Then, he caressed me, slow and leisurely with wicked hands.
“Did I make you come too hard, baby girl? Your filthy mouth makes me think so.”
My body was still a shell while the rest of me remained floating above, so I couldn’t respond. I felt him gently pull the plug free and drop it to the floor. This time when he began to move, it was for him. Each thrust he gave tugged me back to reality until I was completely present again.
I blinked my sluggish eyes at him and he gave me a smoldering look. His cock grew harder inside me and his hands, which had settled on my waist, gripped me fiercely. Fingers burrowed into my skin. Listening to his rapid, uneven breathing was so hot. I craved his orgasm, wanting him to reach the same peak he’d given me.
Joseph groaned as he drove into my body with a violent thrust, and it seemed to break the dam he’d built to hold himself back. Inside, I could feel the pulse of his release, mimicked by his moans as he came. Heat and satisfaction flooded down my spine and settled in my belly.
He stilled. We remained like that for a long moment, our hurried breathing the only communication between us, telling the other how deep the pleasure had been. He pulled out slowly, but didn’t release his hold on me. Instead I found myself pulled up against his chest, his lips beside my ear.
“Are you okay?”
I was a hell of a lot better than okay, but words didn’t come easy. “Yes, Sir.”
“Are you dizzy?”
I didn’t get a chance to answer. He scooped me up into his arms and walked to the bed, taking a knee so he could set me down on the sheets. What was the expression on his face? I put my palm on his cheek. “What’s wrong?”
“That was too much. We should have talked about all of that beforehand. I put a lot on you.”
His expression—this was guilt? It didn’t fit him.
“Hey, I’m okay.” I yanked him down into a kiss. “God, that orgasm. I’m still shaking.”
He crawled onto the bed beside me and wrapped me in his arms. A powerful emotion swept through—I wanted to cry at how good it felt. His hand smoothed up and down my arm, a reassuring gesture. I tucked myself beside him, snuggling close. The beat of his heart was hypnotic and if I wasn’t careful, it would lull me to sleep.
“Can I get you anything?” His quiet voice made my eyes flutter open.
“Anxious to get out of bed?”
The arms that were banded around me squeezed. “No. Not in a million years, baby girl.”
chapter
SEVENTEEN
JOSEPH
Fuck no, I didn’t want to leave this bed. I was tired and Noemi might experience sub drop after the out of control scene I’d just put her through. But the biggest reason? I didn’t fucking want to let go of her. It was unnerving how strong the desire to hold her was.
Part of my responsi
bility was taking care of her. Whatever she wanted, after what I’d done. I’d drive my Porsche through a blizzard to get her mint chocolate chip ice cream if that was what she asked for. My lack of control had crossed over from annoying to downright dangerous. We never discussed a safe word or boundaries. I never asked her hard limits. What if she had asthma or some other medical condition I didn’t know about? I was fucking lucky I hadn’t hurt her, and my stomach turned at the thought.
Her soft hair smelled like coconut, and her skin like vanilla. The combination made me weak. I ripped my gaze away from her and evaluated the room instead. Our smears were on the floor-length mirror from where she’d braced herself with her arms. Watching the belt choke her while I fucked her from behind was scorching hot. I’d remember it forever. How she’d looked when the orgasm took her.
The room wasn’t overtly feminine, but had a woman’s touch. Like the living room, it was a collection of mismatched furniture. Patterns worked with stripes, oversized paired with petite. The proportions were just right, and a common theme held the space together—in this room it was a pale yellow. A careful hand had put it together and although it wasn’t what I’d pick, it was pleasing and comfortable.
“I like this room.” My voice was quiet. “Your decorator’s got talent.”
“My—?” She looked confused. “I don’t use a decorator. I did it myself.” A shy smile broke on her face. “You like it? I’ve been told it’s too busy.”
“No, it’s nice. It doesn’t look . . . generic. It looks like you.”
Her eyes blinked wide and turned warm. “Thanks. I could say the same of your place. All heavy pieces and sharp lines. Rigid.” Her fingertips glided over the tattoo, following the curved lines. “It’s very you.”
“Should be. I did it.” I took pride in my home, making the space my own.
She laughed as if something amused her.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing lasts forever,” she read. “Except, you know, a permanent tattoo.” Her fingers continued to trace the contours.
“Do I need to give you and my tattoo a moment alone?”
She grinned. “Could you? That’d be great.”
We lapsed into lazy silence, and again I was struck by how natural it felt. Normal, when it was anything but for me. She shivered subtly, so I sat up and yanked her fluffy comforter around us. Talking about decorating, snuggling under the covers . . . who the fuck was I around her? Why did I kind of like this?
“Okay,” she whispered. “I’m sort of thirsty.”
“Me, too. What do you want?”
“There’s a pitcher of some red . . . stuff in the fridge.”
“Red stuff? What is it?”
She made a weird face. Embarrassment, and it was fucking cute. “I don’t want to tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not exactly a sophisticated drink and the little girl comment is going to come out of your mouth.”
I laughed, figuring it out. “Oh, please tell me it’s cherry Kool-Aid.”
“It’s not.” She scowled. “It’s fruit punch Kool-Aid. Don’t judge me.”
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood, giving her a smile. “I told you I wouldn’t, little girl.”
Her exasperated sigh chased after me as I went down the hallway. I yanked on my underwear when I got to the wad of clothes on the floor. Jesus, I’d been locked in a Dom space I’d never reached with anyone else when my clothes came off. More proof that whatever this was with her, it was something . . . unique.
The cupboard was where I expected it to be and I pulled down two glasses, filling them with the pitcher of red stuff from her fridge. I hadn’t had Kool-Aid in at least a decade, and it was as sugary-sweet as I remembered, but nice. It was hard not to think about good times with Conner and my parents.
Thirty-eight goddamn years old, and I was drinking a kid’s drink. Would the Kool-Aid Man break through the wall at any second and be horrified to find an adult standing there in his underwear?
No. The wall didn’t burst open, instead the front door did.
There’d been no knock. A key slid into the lock and that sound was what forced me to turn. As the man stepped inside, opposite emotions flared in me. Relief that it wasn’t Noemi’s father, and annoyance at the other man who seemed likely to have a key to her place. Her ex.
Ross looked like a boy who hadn’t quite finished growing into a man. Probably Noemi’s age or a year older. A wholesome, poster-boy Republican look, with dimples that the good girls went apeshit over. We were miles apart.
When his gaze zeroed in on me, he went as wooden as a tree. The thoughts in his head were loud on his face as he took in my lack of clothes and the tattoo she was fond of.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked.
I kept my gaze locked on his and took an unhurried sip from my glass, leaning casually against the counter. Even without clothes, I was the one in the position of power here. I had all of the information, including who he was.
My lack of urgency to respond only made him more anxious.
“Em?” he called out, glancing down the hall. “Seriously, dude, what the hell are you doing here?”
Just what you never could.
“Ross?” Noemi’s hurried footsteps pounded down the hall, and she came into view a half second later, her hands cinching closed the belt on her silk robe. Her wild hair was loose around her shoulders, and makeup smudged under eyes. This girl looked like she’d been properly fucked, and Ross figured it out instantly.
The boy’s face was fucking priceless.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded of him.
His focus left her and swung back my direction, horror in his eyes at what he’d been upgraded to. “I can’t find my flash drive that has MacKenzie’s practice test on it. Did I lend it to you? Or maybe I left it here?”
“I don’t think so.”
It was then that Ross noticed the pile of clothes on the floor that we’d shed earlier, and I didn’t bother hiding the grin. It was petty, but I disliked everything about the guy, from his stupid, pretentious look, to the way he’d put his needs before hers. He moved to the desk in the living room where her laptop rested, and opened a drawer.
“I don’t believe,” my tone was threatening, “she gave you permission to look for it.”
He straightened and turned. “So, you do speak English. Em, who is this guy?”
“Her boyfriend,” I spat out.
I hated that word. The immaturity of it, because God knew I wasn’t a boy, but there wasn’t another word adequate or appropriate to use that Ross would understand.
“Her what?” Ross’s voice cracked. He turned to Noemi with disbelief smeared on his face. There was disbelief on hers as well. We hadn’t used that label, but our arrangement was a relationship. I dared her to deny it, but she wouldn’t. If anything, she looked pleased.
“You could have just called,” she said, her voice tight.
“I did, but you didn’t answer and I need it for class tonight.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but it’s not here. I save everything to my Dropbox, so I wouldn’t borrow it.” She motioned to the door. “You should go to the labs or the library and check the lost and found.”
He nodded, looking deep in thought. “Can you call over there? I’m going to swing by John and Derrick’s place next. The flash drive is white with a Cubs logo on it.”
The way Ross didn’t wait for her answer and began to move toward the door made me realize he expected her to say yes.
“No,” she said, her voice quiet. “No.” This time was louder, confident. “I know you don’t like doing that kind of stuff, but you have a phone, Ross. Be an adult and use it. I’m busy.”
His mouth hung open, probably shocked she’d said no, but he snapped it shut. He gestured to me and the clothes on the floor. “Yeah, I guess so. Thanks for all your help.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
I asked as he yanked the door open.
He turned and glared at me. “What?”
“As much fun as it was having you interrupt Kool-Aid time, you’ve got something that doesn’t belong to you.” He didn’t get it. “You didn’t have to break in.”
He still didn’t understand, and looked at Noemi.
“Your key,” she said.
Ross pulled his keychain out in a huff, extracted the key, and held it out to her.
“No,” I said. “I’ll take that.”
The Kool-Aid had to be laced with something. It was the only excuse I could think of as to why I wanted a key to her place. Claiming her as my girlfriend felt somewhat necessary, but this was something . . . else. I could lie to myself and say it was just so I could have access to her whenever I wanted, but that was pointless. Coming here to her place was stupid and dangerous, and I already knew I was going to do it again.
I ignored her stunned expression as I took the key from her ex’s hand. Ross went quickly after that, and the door shut with a bang.
The key dug into my hand as I closed my fist around it. “I know I said I wasn’t going to judge, but . . .”
Her shoulders pulled back as she braced for a comment.
“. . . I actually like the Kool-Aid.”
She exhaled and closed her eyes. “Did he even knock?”
“Sure didn’t.”
She shook her head. “He’s, like, completely unaware of anyone else. He didn’t used to be that way.”
“It’s too bad he didn’t show up thirty minutes ago when you were choking on my cock. He might have noticed that.”
Her eyes went completely white. “Oh my God.”
“Or maybe when we were fucking in front of the mirror. Would you have liked that, filthy girl? If he’d seen how hard I got you to come?”
I strolled to her, putting the glass I poured for her in her hand. In my other, the key burned.
“Is that what you would have liked?” she whispered. “Does my boyfriend want to rub it in my ex’s face?”
Instinct and logic wanted to push her away. She was Mr. Red’s daughter, and the lie I was keeping from her ate at me. I’d told her to trust me. No, fuck, I’d demanded it, even as I lied about who I was on the inside, although she’d definitely gotten a peek behind the curtain today. But as much as I knew I should back away, I wanted her too strongly.
