by Anna Martin
“You can talk to me. You should know that.”
“I don’t think I want to have sex in session anymore,” I said in a rush.
“Okay…,” Will said slowly. “Define sex.”
He elbowed me at my snort of laughter.
“Penetration.” I considered it for a moment. “As in, your cock in my ass.”
“Okay,” he said. I was waiting for more, and I didn’t get it. Then I did. “I’m not going to force you to submit to me.”
“That’s not what this is about,” I argued.
“Maybe,” he said, squeezing my hand. “To be honest, I’ve been waiting for the point where this combination of intimacy and domination gets too much for one or the other of us. We were always going to have to redefine the boundaries sooner or later.”
It was my turn to kiss him. “Thank you. And you know I don’t mean I want to stop sessions altogether?”
“Sure. Just leave that form of intimacy for the bedroom.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“I don’t have a problem with that at all. Did you expect me to?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t know what I thought you’d say. That’s probably why I put off talking to you about it.”
“You’re such an ass,” he said affectionately.
I stopped him as he pulled his keys out of his pocket, and leaned in to capture his lips in a persistent kiss. My arms bracketed either side of his shoulders by the door, pinning him close to me. I could feel Will’s amusement as he gently ran his hands up and down my sides. I could feel him shifting under me, and then he was ducking under my arm, laughing as he escaped into the door that he’d somehow managed to open while I’d been distracted by his tongue.
“Not fair,” I complained as I kicked off my shoes. We were a no-shoes household. Well, Will was a no-shoes household, so I’d conformed to his way of doing things. It was actually nice to have him grumble at me about domestic-type things; it made me feel like we were more of a couple.
Once I was shoe-less I grabbed Will to continue the slow, easy kisses that made heat and lust pool in my belly. He pushed my T-shirt up until my lower back was exposed, then proceeded to warm his hands on my bare skin.
“Crap!” I jumped and Will openly laughed. It was worth the cold hands to see him happy.
I retaliated by tugging his shirt off over his head and attaching my lips to one pale pink nipple. He groaned in contentment and his fingers scratched through my hair, testing the length of it.
“I believe, Mr. Anderson,” I said as I kissed up his chest, “that you have a promise to collect on.”
“Remind me,” he teased.
“In a few minutes, you’re going to be inside me,” I laughed. I was going to keep going, but his mouth distracted that particular train of thought.
“Come to bed,” he said in a low voice.
I nodded solemnly and followed him up the stairs.
We took our time undressing each other, being careful and rough and loving all at the same time. It was good, knowing that we could be all of those things at once. Our relationship wasn’t instantaneous—it didn’t appear out of a few confessions made in a heated conversation. This was months of caring for someone and denying our connection coming together in one big clash of lust. I wanted Will. And I was learning when to let that show.
Will brushed his lips over my red nipples, softly loving them before attaching his lips to my neck. My hands ran up and down his bare sides. His eyes met mine.
“Face down on the bed,” he said in a low voice that made me want to obey him.
I stripped off the last of my clothes and lay down on the bed.
“Spread your legs.”
I whimpered as my sensitive dick ground into his super-soft sheets. Will’s weight shifted on the bed until I could feel him, heavy and hot and naked, straddling me from behind. He laid soft, wet kisses on my shoulder, then across my back and up the other shoulder to my neck, then down my spine, stopping to tickle my ribs with his breath.
“Will,” I whimpered.
“Shh, baby. Let me do this for you.”
I wasn’t sure what “this” was, but it felt pretty good, so I let him continue. His hands massaged my thighs, then my ass cheeks. When I thought that it might actually be possible to go insane from sexual tension, he trailed one strong finger from my balls, up my ass crack to circle my hole.
“Fuck me, Will, please,” I begged, not caring about being incoherent.
“Oh, okay,” he sighed teasingly, and his weight was gone as he prepared me and himself, then his torso pressed against my back and he eased slowly, carefully into me.
Will’s thighs clamped down outside both of mine, trapping me underneath him even as he gently stroked up the back of my arm to hold my hand in his. I couldn’t spread my legs to let him get deeper in me, but the advantage was that even I could feel how much tighter it was. He couldn’t fuck me hard; instead, he thrust into me with long, unhurried strokes. His lips skimmed over my back and shoulders, his hums of pleasure vibrated through the soft skin on my neck, and the combined pleasures of his cock inside me and mine rubbing up against the sheets took this to a new level. We were connecting the “old” us and the “new” us. The changes I’d made for us would be small in the long run, although every journey starts with a small first step.
The sting in my nipples as they caught against the sheets reminded me of the delicious spike of pain caused by Will’s clamps. I whimpered into the pillow, fisting it in one hand while the other gripped Will’s tighter.
“Are you close, baby?” he asked.
I hummed in agreement.
“Me too.”
I needed more to come, though, and struggled up to brace my arm on the bed, creating enough space for me to sneak a hand down to my cock and tug on it fiercely, coming with a shout and a groan, shooting all over the white expanse of cotton.
Will gripped my hips harder as he started pounding harder into me, his cock nudging my prostate hard enough to keep the pleasurable sensations zinging through my body. He came with a strangled cry, hands grasping tightly enough to bruise.
I wanted to flop back down in exhaustion, but I was mindful of what was underneath me. I straightened up with a groan as Will pulled himself from me, and I turned my head to tempt him into deep kisses. After a few shorter ones, I struggled to my feet and wandered toward the bathroom to clean up.
He joined me at the sink to clean his teeth as I did mine too. We brushed in silence and shared a minty kiss when we were done.
“Come on. Need to change the sheets,” he said, pulling away from my lips and my roaming hands.
I pouted. He smacked me on the ass. Our relationship certainly knew its bounds.
THE very next afternoon my Master emerged from our lazy, hazy Saturday afternoon routine. Before I had a chance to think, I found myself strapped to his spanking bench with my ass high and my hands suspiciously free.
“How is my beautiful little slut today, hmm?” Master mused, spanking my ass lightly with the palm of his hand. “Are you ready for what I’m going to do to you? Speak.”
“Yes, Master. I’m ready for whatever you want to do to me.”
“I’ve been inspired, Jesse. By your outward expressions of change and moving on, moving forward. This is different, and we haven’t spoken about it before, but your safewords are still valid. If you don’t like it, say so and I’ll stop.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Good boy.”
He left the room, which was normally against his own rules, but my hands weren’t tied, so I could get myself free in an emergency, and I wasn’t so deep in subspace that I couldn’t think for myself. For the few minutes I was alone, I worked on my breathing and thinking about being his.
His lips on my back startled me slightly when he reappeared; it seemed I’d been further in my meditation than I’d realized. He placed something cold on my back, which I quickly established was a bowl of warmish water.
> “Don’t let it fall,” he warned. I tensed immediately, although in the position I was in, there wasn’t much chance of that.
“Reach back,” Master instructed, “and hold your ass cheeks apart.”
I did as I was told, and something cold spread all over my ass. It wasn’t lube, though… it had a… foamier texture?
Then it hit me. It was shaving foam. He was going to shave me.
Of course, we couldn’t have done this when I was with Adele—she would have noticed. We hadn’t spoken about doing this specifically; it had just fallen into the category of one of those things that couldn’t happen. Now it could, and it seemed like Master was taking full advantage of me being with him all the time.
He didn’t ask me if I was okay with it. I was his sub; it was his right to do what he wanted with me. And he trusted me to tell him if I wasn’t okay with it. I tried to settle into a more comfortable position without upsetting the bowl of water.
The first time the blade touched my skin I nearly yelped. Nearly. I held it back. Master worked with a sure hand and measured strokes of the blade, carefully and efficiently removing from me any hair back there. I expected it to hurt, or maybe for him to nick me with the razor, like I sometimes did when I was shaving myself, but he didn’t. No damage, no pain, and after a few moments, I started to get turned on.
This was really kinky shit. It was also kinda awesome.
Too soon it was over, and he was wiping the foam off with a warm washcloth.
“All done,” he said and took all of the utensils out of my line of sight. I didn’t move from my position. “Tasty,” Master murmured under his breath, and mine caught in my throat. Would he…?
My hands were removed from my ass and buckled into the restraints on the bench. I felt him crouch behind me and spread my cheeks, then… yes, it seemed like he would. He kissed me, either side, then his tongue lapped from my balls to the base of my spine. I held my breath and ground my teeth together, determined not to make a noise and spoil this most amazing of treats.
Master moaned in pleasure as his tongue focused on my tight hole, and he lapped at me with the flat of his tongue, and then changed to wriggle it around and just inside my opening.
“Permission… permission to make a noise, Master?” I gasped.
“Denied,” he said happily. His tongue was back on my ass as soon as the word was out of his mouth.
Even being allowed to whimper would be something, but not having a gag or anything to hold back my pleasure was verging on torture. I thought he’d tortured me before—I was clearly wrong. He’d managed to insinuate himself inside of me now and his tongue was wriggling around just inside my ass where I was so fucking sensitive, and I knew, I just fucking knew I could come from this alone.
“Permission to come, Master?”
“Oh, no. No way,” he said, clearly delighted.
I dropped my head back to the bench and forced my mind away, out of the room and to somewhere else where coming or my cock or Master’s tongue in my ass weren’t something I had to worry about.
It wasn’t any good, though. Maybe it was because my skin was so smooth and perfect now. I felt everything. I tried to hold back, and hold back, until I was sure that blood vessels were going to fucking explode, then I did, coming with a scream and shooting at thin air underneath me and with nothing touching my cock at all.
“Naughty boy,” Master said as he stood. He sounded too pleased with himself—I was sure he’d made me come on purpose, just so he could punish me. I didn’t care. It had been awesome and worth whatever he was going to dish out next.
Sure enough, he returned with a paddle and proceeded to warm my ass with heavy, measured strokes. His free hand held me steady on my lower back, and I didn’t bother to disguise my cries of pain, then pain laced with residual pleasure, as he beat me.
“Well done, sweetheart,” he said as he rubbed my sore ass, easing the pain before he moved away again to put the paddle away.
When he returned, he unhooked me from the bench and had me kneel for him. I immediately lurched forward, wanting to take his achingly hard cock in my mouth, but he stepped back out of my reach with a playful tut.
I hadn’t noticed the long, thin piece of leather in his hand until he looped it and smacked it into the opposite palm. It took me a moment to realize what it was—the little silver clip on the end gave it away. Master raised an eyebrow at me, then leaned in to clip the leash onto the ring at the back of my collar. This wasn’t new to us, but he knew it was far from being one of my favorite things.
“I need to come,” he said seriously.
“Let me make you come, Master,” I begged.
“I want you to do to me what I just did to you.”
I nodded. “I’ve never done that before.”
“Neither had I until a few minutes ago,” he smiled, brushing his fingers through my hair. He tugged on the leash gently, and I followed him to where he stood in front of the spanking bench, propping his foot up on the place where I usually knelt, bracing his hand on the waist support.
A second tug on the leash brought me much closer to him, and with an errant thought of what the fuck, I leaned in and spread his cheeks with the palms of my hands.
It was certainly new, different, but not bad. It took me a few minutes of exploring until I found my comfort zone, paying plenty of attention to the spot just behind his balls where I knew he was extra-sensitive and where my touches would drive him crazy. I thought it was slightly unfair that he was groaning very loudly and gasping when I did something he liked. It felt fucking amazing and holding back from making a noise had killed me.
I noticed that his cock was leaking, and I tugged it back so I could suck the pre-cum from the tip of his cock, bathing it with attention before returning to his puckered hole.
“Fuck, Jesse,” Master cried, yanking on the leash to make me tongue-fuck him harder. I could tell he was close, and I went to work, trying to make him come like I had.
He had impressive stamina; it still only took another minute of work before he yelled and came hard, spilling onto the floor like I had done before him. I kissed down the backs of his thighs, wanting to show him how much I worshipped every inch of his body.
“Good boy,” Master whispered, and I gracefully moved into my waiting position for him. “Good boy.”
Chapter Seventeen
IT WAS dark, and I was holding him. Nothing else mattered.
Or maybe he was holding me.
It had been a long couple of days, shit had gone down, and we were getting over it. With every day that passed, I felt stronger in myself and so much more secure in our relationship. Laura was right; finding the balance was hard, but once you found it, then things were good.
I was sitting on his lap, and we were kissing slowly. His iPod was docked and he claimed it was set to shuffle, but I didn’t believe him. The songs that were playing had gotten progressively more sweet and romantic. I considered calling him out on it, but really, it was too nice to have someone go to that amount of effort for me.
“Jesse,” he said slowly, his mouth wrapping around my name while still pressed to my lips. “Take me to bed.”
It took me long moments of trying to decipher his words while his tongue and fingertips eased me into a blaze of lust. Then it snapped. He wanted me to take him to bed. To bed.
“Are you sure?” I murmured.
“Oh, yeah. I want you, baby. So bad.”
“Okay. Okay.”
I slid off his legs and offered him my hand. We laced our fingers together as I led him up the stairs to our room. My instinct was to let him take control, but that wasn’t going to work. Gently, carefully, I pulled him to my chest and angled his head to kiss him deeply again. My hands gripped at his waist and Will wrapped his arms around my shoulders, seeming utterly relaxed and confident in me. I tried to let some of that rub off on me.
We undressed each other unhurriedly, in-between kisses that stayed at a constant, familiar level.
The time would come for frantic kissing and painful grasps, but this wasn’t it. Will’s tongue was driving me to distraction as he thumbed through the button on my jeans; his hands slid around and under two layers of fabric to gently stroke my bare ass. I smiled against his lips and relaxed into the familiar balance of his arms around me.
I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair. He pushed my jeans and boxers down off my hips, and as I stepped out of my clothes, I attached my lips to his nipple and worked his jeans off too. He wasn’t wearing any underwear.
“Don’t be nervous,” Will said, kissing over my eyelids.
“I can’t help it. This is a big deal.”
“But it’s me, Jesse.”
“I know,” I sighed. I opened my eyes and met his, filled with so much love and trust.
I smirked at him and pushed his chest until his knees hit the back of the bed, then more until he was lying out in front of me. I climbed up his body until we were flush against each other—joined at thighs, hips, chest, then lips. His arms held me, kept me there.
I looked down into wide brown eyes, and knew this was the moment.
“I love you,” I murmured.
Will frowned slightly. Then he smiled.
“Show me,” he said.
Show him. Oh, god. Not fucking, making love. That’s what I needed to do. Not just two bodies meeting for mutual pleasure, the act of creating more than the sum of two individuals. Make love to him. I could do that.
I kissed down his body, paying attention to all of the sweet spots and erogenous zones I’d come to learn over the time we’d been together. Nearly two years. Nearly two years of him loving me. And I was only just getting to show him back.
There was a lot of making up to do.
I started by kissing his hipbone, the deep V and strong bone and muscle. Will rubbed his palm through the short hair on the side of my head, gently encouraging me and letting me take all of this at my own pace. I was used to this of course—kissing his body, taking care of him, doing my fucking best to turn him on.
