by Sionna Fox
“I didn’t dream of being a neurobiologist when I was a kid either. But I’m good at it, at making connections in data and visualizing structures, and one day the work I’m doing will help people. I spend a lot of time looking at spreadsheets of data and staring at tissue stains, and even if what we’re working toward ultimately turns out to be a dead end, it still adds to the pool of knowledge that everyone in our field is working from. We make more mistakes and false starts than we have sweeping successes, but ruling out answers by our failures paves the way for success down the line. And those wins feel like nothing else.”
“Yeah, I don’t even know what the company I’m working at does.”
He laughed, though I was being completely serious. I think I was entering customer or maybe patient information, but the company I worked at was a contractor for a contractor. I could have been compiling NSA phone records for all I knew.
“What did you major in?”
“Literature, mostly. Not a lot of jobs that require sitting in quiet rooms reading novels, though.”
“Would you want to work with books? I know a few people at academic presses, and I have a friend who runs a small press that does some niche stuff. I could introduce you.”
“No, thank you.” He was being kind, and I didn’t want him to feel obligated. I certainly didn’t want him to think I was more interested in what he could do for me than I was in him. I knew too well what that was like for Izzy. “That’s nice of you, but it’s completely unnecessary. I think it’s cool that you’re so into what you do. I’m babbling. Please ignore me.”
I tried to duck under the counter. He grabbed me and set me back upright on my stool. His lips curled into a smile and I thought he might kiss me. He pulled back, and his mouth fell as he glanced around the room nervously.
“Listen, Jolene.” He ruffled his fingers through his hair. “I’ve enjoyed this.” He paused, the look on his face questioning. My stomach fell somewhere around my toes.
“But?” If he was going to end this before it even started, we might as well get it over with. I shouldn’t have brought up the work thing and now it was weird, and I wanted to hide under the counter again. I started to collapse on myself. He reached over and cupped my cheek, forcing me to stay upright.
“Please, let me say this, Jolene.” He took a deep breath. “I need to be clear with you on a few things.”
That did not help. “Okay?”
“I work. A lot. My hours can be erratic, and you might have picked up on the fact that I tend to get hyper-focused and absorbed in what I’m doing. I’m not good at being a boyfriend. I’d like to keep seeing you, but I understand if you’re looking for something different.”
“Oh. What does that even mean?”
“Oddly enough, it’d be easier for me to see you on a consistent schedule. That might sound contradictory, but it helps me to be able to be in the right head space when I’m with you, with no distractions.”
“Okay. I guess that makes sense.”
“Good.” He smiled and let out the breath he must have been holding. Before I could relax, he took another deep breath and held it.
“I need things between us to be a certain way, Jolene.”
“Okay…” Wasn’t that what he had just told me?
“Fuck, there really is no way to ease into this conversation, is there?” He glanced up at me sheepishly. Matthew nervous and unsure of what to say was disconcerting, to say the least.
“What conversation?”
He scrubbed his palms over his cheeks and dropped his hands into his lap. “I like—I need—control when we’re together.”
“Control?” My eyebrows shot up.
“I want you to give me your control and your consent to do with you what I please, within your limits, obviously.”
“What does that mean, Matthew? What do you want to do to me?”
“I want your submission, Jolene. I want you to let me take care of you. I want you to trust me to do that. I need you to. But I need to know what that means to you. I suspect our interests are similar, but we need to discuss what we both need and want.”
“Need and want what? I still don’t know what you’re talking about. What am I supposed to be submitting to?”
“I want to spank you, whip you, tie you up, and fuck you until you can’t see straight. And I need you to want it too.” His words came out in a rush.
“Oh.” My brain was having a hard time keeping up. Mostly it was stuck on his saying he wanted to fuck me until I couldn’t see straight. Yes, please.
His eyes went wide and he started to backpedal but I cut him off. “Give me a minute, please.”
I needed to wrap my brain around the idea. If I was being honest with myself, I’d been fantasizing about the man tossing me around and having his way with me from the moment I’d clapped eyes on him. I let out my breath, slowly and carefully, and kept my eyes down, trying to gather my wits without getting lost in the notion that he wanted me.
“You’re into BDSM?”
He nodded and so many things fell into place. His whole cocky, bossy attitude made more sense, and his no-mind-games, no-bullshit approach to asking me out. His meticulousness wasn’t confined to the kitchen or the lab, it was him. And now, he had dropped the possibility of fulfilling every one of my dirty fantasies from the last six weeks straight into my lap. Before I could catastrophize, I asked myself what was the worst that could happen? Hot sex? Or I could hate it and that would be the end of it, but I could at least say I had tried something new. Those were the most realistic possible outcomes. Who would have thought random therapy tricks would come in handy at a time like this?
I glanced up at him, and he looked so sweetly nervous, I wanted nothing more than to climb in his lap and tell him he could do whatever he wanted to me.
“Have you ever done anything like that before?” His face was stuck somewhere between horrified and hopeful.
I nearly burst out laughing from a combination of nerves and the ridiculousness of that notion, but I didn’t want him to think I was laughing at him. “Yeah, no, definitely not,” I snorted.
Matthew relaxed slightly and ran his fingers backwards through his hair, leaving it sticking up like a porcupine. He looked relieved that I wasn’t running screaming for the door. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head, but with a smile. “I’m totally fucking this up, aren’t I?”
“It’s fine.” I should have been freaking out. But for some reason I wasn’t. Maybe it was the simple shock of even having this conversation. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was every secret dream and fantasy coalescing into a tangible opportunity. Maybe I was desperate. I took his hands and cracked the first joke that came to mind. “Is there a contract? Am I supposed to call you Master? Do you have a dungeon?”
That made him laugh, much to my relief. If he’d been insulted, I would have had to consider running for the hills.
“No, there is no contract. I don’t have the desire or the time for that kind of arrangement. My name will do fine, and I don’t have a dungeon, only a bedroom with accessories.”
“Thank god. No offense, I’m sure you’re very dom-ly and all, but I don’t think I could call anyone Master with a straight face.”
“You never know.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “I may ask you to call me ‘sir’ if we were ever to play in public.”
“Wait, public?” I nearly choked. I could not imagine taking this kinky sex show on the road.
He smiled. “Like I said, you never know.” His face turned serious again. “I enjoy testing boundaries, but I’m not interested in traumatizing you. I will never force you to do anything you truly don’t want to do.”
I believed him whole-heartedly, so I squeezed his hand and said, “I know.”
He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair again. “Fuck. There are other things we should talk about, but right now I want to take you to bed, strip you naked, and fuck you senseless.”
Dear sweet Jesus, yes.
“Lead the way, Master.”
Chapter Four
The look on his face said I would pay for that bit of cheek later. Maybe not tonight, but definitely in the future. He said nothing, took my hand, and led me down the short hallway to his bedroom.
I had only a moment to take in the small but tidy space, furnished with a sturdy-looking bed and a dresser, before Matthew took my face in his hands and planted his lips on mine in a fierce, possessive kiss. He broke away far too soon, and I tripped over my feet trying to follow his mouth with my own.
He put his hands on my shoulders to steady me and commanded, “Stay there. Close your eyes. Deep breaths.”
My body obeyed, even as my brain wanted to ask questions. Thankfully, I was quick enough to realize if I wanted to break my epic dry spell and have hot, dirty, kinky sex with this man, my body had the right idea.
“Good girl,” he whispered, brushing my ear with his lips as he stepped behind me. I wanted to spend the rest of my life doing whatever it took for him to keep calling me that. “We are going to take this very, very slowly. If you need me to stop or slow down, you tell me. Okay?”
We could stop any time. We could take a break. It was up to me. “Okay.”
“Arms up.” He lifted my shirt over my head with infuriating slowness, dropped it to the floor, and lifted his hands to unhook my bra.
“Arms down.” He slid the straps over my biceps, grazing my skin with his fingertips. I shivered and broke out in goose bumps as my bra hit the floor. He pressed me closer to him, tucking me against his hips as he reached around, took my breasts in his palms, and rolled my nipples between his long, elegant fingers.
With my eyes closed and his hands wreaking sweet havoc, I didn’t have time to feel self-conscious about standing half-naked in his bedroom. My head dropped back against his chest and I sighed. “Fuck, that feels good.”
His mouth curled in my hair. “It’s supposed to, sweet girl. You have such gorgeous tits.”
As he said it, his hands moved away, down over my belly to the waistband of my skirt. He skimmed around the edge of the fabric where it met my skin before pulling it down over my hips to pool on the floor at my feet, leaving me in only my uncomfortably damp underwear.
“Open your eyes, go to the bed. Lie down, face up, and put your arms above your head. Don’t move.”
The speed with which I rushed to comply would have surprised me if I hadn’t been so focused on imagining what was coming next. My whole body vibrated with anticipation and nerves.
“Eager, are we?” His voice held no small hint of amusement.
“You could say that, Mat-sir.” I stuttered over his name and used the honorific without thinking. Not to be a smartass, but because for some reason, it sounded right. He was never Matt to me, but “sir” was better even than Matthew now that I was mostly naked in his bed
Matthew hummed in approval. “I think I might have you call me sir, after all.” He still wasn’t touching me, and I couldn’t contain myself. I wriggled my hips and pressed my thighs together, desperate to do something, anything, that might stem the ache growing between my legs.
Matthew gave me a light swat on the hip, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to get my attention. “Settle down,” he growled. Not helping, sir. Warm hands engulfed my left foot and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“Ticklish?”
“Very.”
He gripped my heel with one hand and with the other laid a firm smack on the arch. The sensation tracked straight from my foot, up my leg, to my throbbing clit. I moaned and pushed against his grip, wordlessly begging for him to do it again.
“Did you like that?” I nodded and pressed my foot into his hand again. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy torturing your pretty, little feet later,” he said with a patently evil grin. “But right now…” He trailed off as his hands snaked up my calf to my thigh. I arched my hips to meet him, but he pulled away with only the barest brush of his knuckles against my sex.
He gently lowered my leg to the bed, picked up my other foot, lifted it to his mouth, and bit down on my big toe. It was only a nibble, but the foreign sensation sent ripples of undeniable pleasure coursing through me.
His hands started up my leg, accompanied by his mouth, licking, kissing, and nipping along the trail his fingers blazed toward my pussy. I whimpered and moaned under his assault. I was fairly certain a single well-placed touch or flick of his tongue between my legs would be enough to send me over the edge. And he totally knew it. He bypassed my pussy entirely and worked his hands and his mouth around my hips, across my belly, to my breasts. He pulled my nipple between his lips, sucking hard before he bit down.
“Oh dear sweet Jesus lord god, yes.” I felt him smile against my skin. “Oh god, that was out loud, wasn’t it?” I clapped my hands over my mouth and he lifted his head from my breast, laughing.
He peeled my hands from my face and put them back over my head, pinning me by the wrists with one hand. “As cute as that is,” he scowled down at me, “stop it.”
Hysterical laughter bubbled up from my belly, but before it had a chance to escape my lips, Matthew drew back his free hand and smacked my tit. Hard. The laughter died, replaced by a stinging, buzzing heat that pooled and clenched and made me moan and writhe. The sensation of the slight pain and pleasure mixing pulled me out of my head and into my body.
“Good girl. Now keep talking. I want you noisy. I need to know what you like, what feels good, and what doesn’t,” he whispered. “Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you need to take a break?”
“No. Don’t stop. Please.”
He returned his attention to my breasts. He licked, sucked, and bit with his teeth and his tongue. He squeezed, pinched, cupped, and rolled with his clever fingers. A few more times he slapped with his open palm and nearly made me come without having laid a single finger on my pussy. I was a writhing, wriggling, panting, moaning, wet, sweaty mess, and we hadn’t even made it past second base.
I was getting desperate when he finally, finally, thank all the gods in all the heavens, slipped a hand into my panties. Even then, he teased. He traced me with his fingertips, learning me by feel. He skated around my clit, not giving me the direct pressure I was begging for with every barely conscious move of my hips. I moaned in pleasure and frustration, and he pulled his hand from my panties and gave me a swift pop on the hip.
“I promise, you will come when I am good and ready for you to and not before. Do you understand, Jolene?”
The low, feral tone in his voice made me lose the power of speech. I whimpered and nodded.
“Use words, Jolene. Do.” Pop. “You.” Pop. “Under.” Pop. “Stand?” Pop.
I shuddered convulsively. “Yes, sir,” I croaked.
“Good girl.” He rose to his knees and grabbed the waistband of my underwear. “Lift your hips.” I lifted, and he slid my panties down my legs and tossed them over his shoulder to the floor.
He stood at the foot of his bed. I raised my head to ogle him while he pulled off his T-shirt. My imagination may have been vivid, but it hadn’t done him justice. Matthew was lean and toned, his arms and shoulders well-muscled for a guy who spent most of his time in a lab. He had a dusting of dark hair on his chest and along his flat stomach. It concentrated into a line below his navel, leading to the spot between his narrow hips where his fingers were busy unfastening the button of his jeans and pulling down the zipper. I was transfixed watching him slowly undress himself, biting my lip in anticipation of the big reveal.
Finally, Matthew stood naked before me. I licked my lips, hoping I would get to spend some time exploring his body the way he had mine. He was all long lines and sharp angles. I wanted to learn him, inch by inch. And I wanted his cock in my mouth with a fervor I’d never felt before. Standing out flushed and full from the dark curls at the base, I wanted to wrap my lips around his thickness and pull him in, slide my tongue along the ridge at the smooth head and trace the vein down th
e underside. I wanted to feel him pulse in my mouth while I sucked him, and I wanted to taste his come in the back of my throat. I had no idea what he had planned for me next, but this was something I understood. I could bring him pleasure and take mine in the heady thrill of the knife edge of power and vulnerability in having his cock in my mouth. I knew how to do that much.
My train of thought must have been plain on my face. Matthew came around to the side of the bed and ordered me to come closer.
“Is this what you want?” He stroked himself, a few inches from my ready mouth.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” He gently cupped the back of my head with one hand and guided his cock between my lips with the other.
The musky smell of him, the salty taste of precome, and the smooth, heavy feel of him in my mouth sent a fresh wave of wetness and heat coursing between my legs. I licked, sucked, and stroked around the crown before taking in as much of his length as I could. A brief pang of self-consciousness made my rhythm falter, but Matthew hummed and made generally approving, pleased noises as I continued to explore him with my lips and tongue.
He ran his fingers through my hair and applied gentle pressure, muttering soft encouragement, to coax me into the rhythm he wanted. After a minute or two, he pulled me back. I looked up at him, afraid I had done something wrong, and saw only lust in his eyes. He led me to the middle of the bed.
“I did promise to fuck you senseless.”
I blushed, and he stroked my hair before he reached into the nightstand to pull out a condom. He sheathed himself quickly and eased my thighs apart. I tensed, suddenly afraid that after so long I might as well be a virgin again. Fucking me senseless might not work out the way we both wanted it to. He leaned down, pushed a lock of hair back from my face and cupped my cheek.
“What’s wrong?”
I cringed, embarrassment competing with arousal. “It’s been kind of a really long time.”
