One And Done

by Cynthia Sax

  He prods and I clench to the point of cramping, my body resisting this invasion. It’s as though my ass is saying ‘Nothing is supposed to go in here, sir. This is a one-way channel. Move along to moister regions.’

  The man, who may or may not be Smoke, sighs. My shoulders slump. I’ve disappointed him by not being ass-easy. He presses his lips against the dimple on my right ass cheek, this sweet reassuring kiss lifting my spirits once more.

  I widen my stance and tilt my ass upward, offering him my pussy, a hole that welcomes cock, that doesn’t mind being pushed or prodded. A zipper rasps. Fabric swishes. A package rustles. It’s condom time.

  Am I ready for this, to take another man, someone who is not Edward, inside me? I worry my bottom lip with my teeth. Once I do this, I can’t go back.

  A thrillingly broad latex-covered cock head brushes along my pussy folds and all of my concerns evaporate. Yes, I want this. I want to move on, to be fucked silly, to be wanted.

  My stranger bumps against me, blindly searching for my entrance. I’ve come once and I should be sated but his fumbling revives my libido.

  He taps my clit and my pussy clenches around nothing. “You’re doing that on purpose.” My voice is husky with need.

  A chuckle escapes his lips. He is intentionally teasing me. I push my ass backward and his muscles flex. He grips my hips, forcing me to become still.

  Playtime is over.

  My stranger pushes his tip inside me. Fuck. He’s much bigger than Edward, his cock stretching me until my body protests. I’m never taking that thing up my ass. He’ll split me into two.

  I expect the man to thrust his shaft home. We’ve tormented each other for endless minutes. I’ve come once. He must be ready to blow his wad.

  He has more willpower than I do, sinking into me slowly, allowing me to savor every delectable inch. He’s long and thick, the thickest I’ve ever taken, and he knows what he’s doing, making the most of what he has, sliding his shaft along my inner walls at the exact right angle.

  “That feels so good.” I splay my fingers over the painted drywall.

  He fills me, then lowers his torso, draping his chest over my bare back, resting his face between my shoulder blades, wrapping his arms around me.

  I thought this stranger fuck would be quick and impersonal, a heated rush of unrestrained lust. His embrace is tender, soft, almost loving. He needs me as much as I need him, this exchange of comfort warming my body and my heart.

  His lips graze my skin. His fingers caress my stomach, rousing more rumbling we both pretend not to hear.

  He withdraws from me, eases back inside, withdraws, eases back inside, his tempo leisurely as though he has all day and all night to fuck me. I move with him, following his lead, resisting my natural tendency to hurry, to finish this as quickly as possible and turn to the next item on my to-do list.

  This patience pays off. Desire flushes my skin. My stranger shifts his hand to my mons, covering my wet folds with his fingers, brushing his thumb against my clit. This extra stimulation tightens my pussy even more, the friction exciting both of us.

  He drives into me faster, harder, rocking my body, his balls smacking against me. I cling to the wall for dear life, panting, my curves jiggling, a thin sheen of sweat covering my form.

  He’s all around me, his grunts in my ear, his silk-clad chest soft against my back, his arms like iron around me, holding me in place, his cock filling me, an erotic anchor keeping me on this earth, in this moment.

  We work together, striving for our individual satisfaction, unable to see each other, yet vividly aware of our connection. I meet his thrusts midway, matching his music, dancing to his steady, sure beat. There’s no awkwardness. I’m graceful, able, confident, a woman desired, a woman able to please a man.

  And I realize this is due to my lover. He’s the difference between the fuck now and the fucks I’ve enjoyed in the past. He’s the reason for my confidence.

  “Yes, yes, yes.” I repeat this word with each drive forward. My arms and legs tremble. My pussy juices drip down my inner thighs, bathe his cock and balls.

  His grunts grow hoarser, his thrusts more desperate, his hips slapping against my ass, warming me all over. Soon, we’re crashing together, my body folding into his, softness swathed in muscle.

  “I need—”

  He taps my clit and I break, screaming Smoke’s name, bucking forward and back, my release violent, setting off his.

  His roar temporarily deafens me and I’m shoved forward, barely escape my head being bashed against the wall, saved only by my arms, by the strength I didn’t realize I had. His hips gyrate, his cock twitching inside me.

  “Fuck.”

  That harsh voice sounds like Smoke’s but I’m so shattered by coming, quivering against him, I can’t be certain. He straightens my bent form, his cock slipping from my pussy. I sway. He holds me for a couple moments, nuzzling the curve where my neck meets my shoulder, until my legs steady and I’m able to stand on my own.

  Then he steps back. There’s a snap of a used condom, the rustling of cloth, the metallic grind of a zipper.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, not yet having the ability to dress.

  Lips press against my shoulder. He squeezes my hips and releases me. A door opens, the flash of light blinds me, and I look away. The door closes once more, shrouding me in darkness.

  I’m alone. My stranger has left me.

  Shit. Why didn’t I take the opportunity to look at him? Now I’ll never know, for certain, who fucked me into the wall. He will always be a mystery man.

  A sexy, steamy hot, mystery man with Smoke’s face.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I dress as best as I can in the dark room. Then I exit, find the nearest bathroom and repair the rest of the damage.

  There’s no erasing my drowsiness. I’ve come hard twice and I want to sleep.

  After I eat.

  My stomach twists painfully, accentuating its emptiness.

  First, I’ll see Smoke. I traipse along the hallway, not knowing where I’m going. The 1920’s flapper girl outlined in the frosted glass to my right looks familiar. Where did I see it?

  The solid double doors to Smoke’s office is the next guidepost. My sense of direction is not the best.

  I knock.

  “Come in.” There’s no mistaking Smoke’s voice this time.

  I enter. He’s lounging on one of the couches, seated across from a handsome yet forbidding man, who is dressed in a similar gray silk shirt, black dress pants.

  I frown. That’s not where the similarities end. The man has Smoke’s broad shoulders, fit form, clean-shaven face, collar-length hair.

  They aren’t identical. The newcomer’s hair is brown, not black, his face is broader, more primitive, and there’s no humor in his golden eyes.

  But a woman couldn’t tell them apart in a darkened room.

  Did this man fuck me?

  My gaze returns to Smoke. He’s normally careful with his appearance yet his shirt is misbuttoned today, this disarray making my fingers twitch. His skin is also flushed, his eyelids partially lowered. He looks sexually sated.

  Though I could be imagining this.

  Wishing it were true.

  “Join us, baby.” Smoke pats the couch cushion beside him. “This is Master V, a friend of mine.” He turns to the man. “Jenella is the woman I was telling you about.”

  “Hmmm…” Master V – what kind of name is that? – studies me as I walk toward them and lower to the seat. “I see what you mean. She’ll make a pretty pet.”

  “Hello.” I wave my hands. “I’m right here.”

  Smoke captures my hands and holds them still, his palms warm, comforting, “She requires training.”

  Master V’s gaze flicks to our hands. “And preparation. Butt plugs are needed for her virgin ass.”

  They’re discussing me as though I’m a sex toy, devoid of feelings, of thoughts, of intelligence. “Ummm…still here.”

  “I
’m talking to Master V now, Jenella.” Smoke pulls me onto his lap.

  He smells of sex and my perfume and any doubt I have about my stranger’s identity vanishes. That was his cock inside me, his lips on my skin, and I’m relieved, happy, thrilled.

  “I’ll explain the situation to you later.” He straps his arms under my breasts securing me to him. “She doesn’t have much experience. Her last lover neglected her.”

  “He dumped my ass,” I mumble.

  Smoke squeezes me. Oh right. I’m supposed to be quiet.

  “Her lack of experience is clear from her list.” Master V glances toward the screen. My list of sexual challenges, the one I sent Smoke, is displayed there. “She doesn’t know what she wants or likes.”

  He thinks I’m a child. I sigh. And I guess I am, compared to them.

  “Use her list as a starting place, an indication of her interests.” Smoke has transferred my care to his friend and this hurts. It hurts like hell. “You can add the challenges you deem necessary.”

  Not being in charge of the challenges scares me. But they’re doing this for me, to make me a better lover, girlfriend, wife. I have to trust them.

  “We will add the challenges we deem necessary,” Master V amends.

  “There’s no we.” Smoke shifts under me. “She’ll be your responsibility.”

  Master V looks at me, at Smoke’s possessive grip on my body, at his fingers spread over my stomach, and his eyes narrow. “I can take her on in three weeks.”

  Smoke leans forward, moving me with him. “She won’t wait that long.”

  “She’ll have to.” His friend appears unconcerned. “I’m busy until then.”

  The club owner tightens his hold on me. “She’ll try to do this herself and put herself in danger.”

  “That’s not my problem.”

  “That’s not my problem either.” Smoke’s breath wafts over my neck.

  “Then walk away,” Master V suggests. “You’ve done that in the past.” Smoke’s friend is one cold uncaring son of a bitch, unconcerned if I live or die.

  This is the man now responsible for my sexual journey. I shiver.

  Smoke gazes at Master V. Master V stares back at him, his expression like stone, hard, unreadable. I want to jump into the silence, to assure them I’d wait but that would be a lie. Delayed gratification isn’t my strong suit.

  “It’s not possible to walk away this time.” Smoke rests his chin on top of my head. “She’ll call me every fuckin’ day, damn early in the morning, until I help her.”

  Wait a minute. I open my mouth to protest.

  Master V catches my gaze and shakes his head, silencing me. “Then you don’t have a choice.”

  “No, I don’t.” Smoke’s muscles relax under me, his body softening. “I’ll do this, but the moment you’re free, you’ll take over.”

  “Agreed.” His friend’s eyes flash with triumph.

  He didn’t want to be my sexual guide. I fight to hide the pain of his rejection. He’s happy that he doesn’t have to deal with me, touch me, teach me.

  Master V frowns at me.

  Oh shit. He knows I know.

  A knock on the door thankfully distracts him.

  “Come in,” Smoke barks.

  Bruiser pokes his head into the office. “We’re having issues with the POS system again, boss.”

  “Point of sale, my ass.” Smoke transfers me to the nearby couch cushion and stands. “More like piece of shit.”

  His misbuttoned shirt bothers me.

  Tremendously.

  “Wait.” I bounce to my feet and block his exit. “I have to fix this.” I unfasten his shirt, revealing tanned, delineated man chest and more of the black ink winding down his neck, over his shoulder, the points jagged and sharp…broken.

  I gaze at the tattoo. They’re shards of broken glass.

  Is that how he sees himself—as broken? Or is it a warning to others? Stay away or I might hurt you? Either possibility saddens me.

  I look upward. Smoke is watching me, a strange expression on his face, a mixture of euphoria and pain. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move. His body is frozen in place.

  I button his shirt correctly.

  “There.” I pat his silk-covered pecs. “You’re now good to go, player.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.” His voice is gruff.

  “Oh, I did.” I smile at him. “It was driving me crazy.”

  His lips curl upward, the gold in his eyes glittering. He’s a handsome man and I could gaze at him forever.

  As I am now, lost in his magnetic pull. His chin lowers. My lips part.

  Bruiser shifts behind him, his shoes scuffing the floor and Smoke jerks away from me. Without another glance my way, he strides out the door, leaving me alone with Master V, his frightening friend.

  I gaze after him, my thoughts spinning in my mind, my emotions as jumbled. Smoke confuses me, giving me a hint of depth before hiding it under his superficial player veneer.

  I return to the couch. Master V studies me. He’s intense, serious, scary. I felt more comfortable with the badass biker I met yesterday.

  “You’re not busy, are you?” I cut through the bullshit. “You don’t want me.”

  His lips flatten. “I don’t lie.” Each word is bitten off. I suspect not many people question him. “I am busy and you would make a pretty pet…when properly trained. You’re not fit for company right now.”

  I ignore his rude comment. “Yet you won’t train me. Why?”

  “I’ve been Smoke’s friend for over a decade. He has never been with the same woman twice.”

  “He’s a player.” Tell me something I don’t know.

  “His one-and-done philosophy has never brought him happiness.”

  That’s a revelation. I tilt my head. “There must be some payoff for him or he wouldn’t stick with it.”

  “You’re a clever girl.” Master V’s smile is more alarming than his frowns. “In my experience, people either move toward joy or away from emotional pain.”

  I think about this. “If, as you say, being a player doesn’t bring Smoke happiness, it must prevent him from being hurt.” I worry my bottom lip with my teeth, pondering the club owner and his mysterious past.

  Then I realize what I’m doing. Smoke wants to leave me, as soon as possible. He was willing to pass me to another man.

  And I’m concerned that he’s not happy.

  “Why are we talking about this?” I shake my head. “You heard Smoke. Once you’re free, he’s done with me, and I can’t, won’t do that again, care for someone destined to leave me. Been there. Have the wounds to prove it.”

  “I’m not asking you to do anything.” Master V flicks a piece of lint off his pants. “I was explaining why I didn’t agree to train you right away.”

  “I won’t be part of your sick experiment.” I fold my arms in front of me.

  He lifts one of his eyebrows.

  Okay, I might have overreacted a bit. “Why did you talk about me like I wasn’t in the room?” I ask the other question that has been bothering me.

  Master V spreads his arms along the back of the couch. “In the BDSM world, addressing another Dom’s sub directly is disrespectful.”

  “Smoke isn’t a Dom.” This isn’t a wild guess. He isn’t as rigid and unbending as Master V is. “And I’m not his sub. I might be plump but I’m not weak.”

  “Submission isn’t a sign of weakness.” Master V’s jaw juts. “Trusting another person, voluntarily giving up control, requires strength.”

  I hadn’t thought about it that way. “I don’t like pain. Life is hurtful enough.”

  “You can submit without enduring pain.” Master V’s eyes glint. “You belong to Smoke. He should be the man answering your questions and easing your concerns. But BDSM isn’t his forte and I’m certain he wouldn’t mind if I take over this part of your education. Let’s start with basic concepts.”

  ***

  By the time Smoke returns, carr
ying a pizza box, I’ve added Shibari – rope play, blindfolds, and feathers to my list of sex acts to experience. I’m also starving, my body weak, the room blurring.

  “I must leave.” As Master V rises to his feet, he doesn’t acknowledge me or our conversation. I’m the invisible sub once more. “I’ll see myself out.”

  I barely notice his exit, my attention on the scent of melted cheese and tomato sauce. The door clicks closed. My stomach signals its awareness of the food.

  “Sorry.” I hug my belly, trying to stop the noise.

  “You’re hungry.” Smoke chuckles, setting the pizza box between us on the couch. “You haven’t been eating enough, baby.” He flips the box open, revealing a gorgeous pineapple-and-ham topped pie.

  “Some people would say I eat too much.” I grasp a slice, unable to politely wait.

  “Some people are jackasses.” Smoke claims two pieces, folding them over. “I appreciate your curves. You’re beautiful as you are.” He devours them, his pizza consumption impressive.

  “You’re losing your edge.” I tell him between mouthfuls. “That line wasn’t bad.”

  “I’m hopelessly lost in your eyes.” His voice lilts with humor. “Not even a GPS can help me.”

  I laugh, almost choking on a piece of pineapple. “And…you’re back.”

  “Baby, one look at you and I was gone.” Smoke’s slow smile is deliciously wicked.

  “That’s terrible.” I grin.

  He shrugs. “I try.”

  “Try harder.” I stuff the rest of the slice into my mouth.

  “Fuck her right ‘cause she’s my baby,” Smoke sings, his voice steady and strong.

  I chew furiously and swallow. “Those aren’t the lyrics.”

  “I know.”

  We eat in silence for a few minutes, taking the edge off our hunger.

  Smoke picks a piece of ham off his fourth slice and pops it into his mouth. “Earlier, when we excluded you from the conversation—”

  “You were following BDSM rules.” I stop his unnecessary explanation. “Master V told me. Is that what you like—for your women not to talk?”

  “That’s his thing.” Smoke waves a hand at the closed door. “With me, it’s the opposite situation. Women tell me their problems.”