by Sharon Page
But I couldn’t ask him that. I can’t say anything that doesn’t sound natural for a nineteen-year-old with almost no experience. The safest way is to let him be in charge. Anyway, I want to do what he wants.
I lay with my cheek on the mattress to see him as best as I can. He’s focused on putting his cock into me, which makes me weak. His hand is around the hilt and he strokes the head against my pussy lips.
Oh. Oh. Oooooh.
I spread my legs more. His stroking makes my juices flow, so he can part my lips and slide inside. From behind, it feels a little different to take him inside. Incredibly good. He fills me, and his slightly rough pubic hair brushes my sensitive butt.
I thrust back to him, taking him as deep as I can. My eyes shut and I stay motionless, savoring the feeling of being filled to the brim.
He begins pumping, driving deep and slow and I lift my hips to meet every strong thrust. My fingers find my clit and I stroke myself. Sensation sizzles through me. Oh yes, this is going to be perfect.
I lift my hips higher, so I can really rub my clit, taking his thrusts. Pleasure builds. Not slowly, but with lightning speed. Rubbing as fast as I can, I feel the sudden tightening, and my clit starts throbbing and pulsing and then it happens.
I’m coming. It’s so good I moan loudly. “Oh God, Ryan,” I babble. “Oh yes. Yes.”
He hangs on to his orgasm and when mine dies away into this happy, giggly feeling of delight, he starts pumping again. I want more, just like he does.
I come again. And again. My cries get louder each time.
Until number four, when I sob with the fierce explosion that takes me. I’m just a puddle afterward. I’m soaking wet from coming and Ryan drives into me.
“Harder,” I beg. I want him to get off. I’ll never come now—
No, I can. He’s breathing hard. Not moaning, but making these tense, harsh sounds.
“I’m going to come, Mia.”
“Yes. Please,” I beg, putting some intense pressure on my clit. And I have one last, sobbing, whimpering orgasm-fest, when he jerks hard against me. His hips strike my ass, and I twist to see him and watch him come into me.
When he’s done, his eyes close and he hangs his head from sheer exhaustion. I giggle. Then he withdraws and falls to the bed at my side.
I stretch out on the bed, all hot and sweaty, then roll on my side to snuggle Ryan. He pulls the covers over us. Being naked under the sheets, all warm and cozy, feels so sexy and decadent. Ryan wraps his arm around me and draws me against him. I put my leg over his hips.
Next thing I know, we’re kissing. Little nibbles of our lips.
He stops, gives me a longing look. “I love you,” he says. “I love you so much. I want to look after you and keep you safe. I wanted to do that with Dad too, but I screwed that up.”
I’m shocked he would think that. “You didn’t screw anything up. You’ve tried and tried to help him. And what happened to me wasn’t your fault.”
He strokes my shoulder under the covers. The feel of his large hand tenderly caressing my skin is magical. “I wish I could have been there for you. It’s hard, waking up every morning, wishing you were with me, Mia. There’s some days I’m so tired and I’ve got so much to do that I don’t think about you as much. Maybe only a hundred times that day instead of a thousand.”
My eyes tear. “I don’t want you to be thinking about me and not studying.”
He laughs huskily. “I worked hard. For you. But I just can’t figure out how to study.”
“I will help you,” I promise. I wrap my arms around him, around his narrow waist, and I press my head to his chest.
Holding me like that, he drifts off to sleep. When I hear his soft, even breathing, I fight to stay awake to savor this moment. Why is it that this kind of happiness makes your heart ache, your lips wobble, and your eyes prickle with tears?
***
I’m running. Running and I’m supposed to be writing an exam, but I’ve never been to the course. I always meant to go to that class, but I never did. I don’t even know where the room is. I’ve followed people I know, but now I’m lost on campus. I’m running up a service road and it’s almost dark. I’m not wearing a shirt. In my hurry to get to my exam, I seem to have forgotten a shirt and a bra, so I’m trying to run as fast as I can with my hands over my breasts.
I trip and stumble. Panic as I realize I’m going to smash face-first into asphalt. But I catch my balance and keep on running.
Someone is running behind me. Chasing me. Gaining on me.
Hands grab me and pull me back—
I jerk my eyes open. I’m in the bed. Ryan lies beside me, his long warm body stretched out beside mine. I want to touch him. But something is here, in the room with us. The thing is hovering over us. I am staring right up at it, but I’m not quite focusing yet. I’m too frozen to move.
It’s something dressed in white, with a strange white-blue face, and its hands reach for me—
I scream. And scream.
Hands close on my shoulders. “Mia. Mia, wake up!”
I see Ryan over me, eyes bleary but filled with fear, his mouth taut with it. I grip his strong forearms. “There’s someone there. Someone floating—”
The image disappears but there is something there. Indistinct and white…
Bed canopy. The beautiful bed canopy that I loved when I walked in the room. The pattern of the fabric fooled me and my nightmare-ridden brain thought it saw a ghost. I feel embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I woke you up.”
Tenderly, he brushes his fingers along my cheek. “Don’t be. You had a bad dream. Everything is all right.”
He turns me on my side and spoons against me, his arms around me. Spooning with him proves to be spectacular. His warm chest presses to my back, his soft cock nestles against my bare ass. My feet rest against his shins because his legs are so long.
There’s nothing to fear. I’m in bed with Ryan. Safe.
I’m not going to think about how much I wish this could be the rest of my life. For right now I have tonight. Tomorrow night. Two nights of perfect bliss.
***
Giggling, I put a privacy hanger on the door, and Ryan and I spend the whole of Saturday in bed. We discover the glassed-in shower is too small for two occupants, much less sex, so that’s a fantasy I don’t get to indulge. After four bouts of love-making—twice on the bed and twice on the carpeted floor—I get way too daring.
More daring than just slipping my hand between us to play with my clit and make sure I climax. Ryan loves having me come on him. I don’t know if he can feel my pussy tug at his cock when I come, but I really feel it. I don’t just get myself to a climax once, but as many times as I can, which thrills him.
My sudden urge to be really daring takes me by surprise.
We’re stretched out on the floor in front of the fire. Ryan is wonderful at making and tending fires. He goes hunting in the fall—or he used to before college. He’s a superb shot, and he knows how to hang game. As a teenager in high school, he kept his dad and himself fed in meat all year with his hunting. He also had to do grocery shopping or there would be nothing to eat. Since my mom worked lots of hours at the diner, Ryan and I used to do groceries together, like an old married couple.
Anyway, I love the feel of the carpet against my naked body, though I did get rug burns from pumping away with Ryan. So did he, when I rode him on the rug. I loved doing that, loved the way his eyes went wide as he watched my breasts bounce over him.
Now, lying naked on the rug, I feel all sensuous and wicked and delicious.
And suddenly I think of the club, Tied, and feel…kinky.
Jonathon’s words come back to me. That Ryan may be into bondage, and he’s never told me. I keep secrets from him. He must have kept some things from me.
I just want to do something naughty. I yearn to do it, and I can’t put the thought of it out of my mind.
I get up, feeling tingly with desire and nerves. I go to where
my coat is hanging in the closet and unwind my scarf. When I turn back, Ryan is sitting up on the rug, watching me with curiosity. He’s naked, his legs bent, elbows resting on his knees, and I can see his long cock isn’t soft and dangling anymore. It’s growing, getting thicker, straightening and lifting. He’s aroused again. It’s amazing to watch it stand up all on its own.
I have the scarf wrapped around my two wrists. I look like I’m tied up and he got hard.
Does that mean Jonathon is right?
I’m really in the mood to do something naughty. I’ve vowed to be good, but maybe I don’t have to be totally good.
“I’d kind of like…” I pause. How noncommittal can you be? I am aching inside and completely turn on. “I want you to tie me up.”
He jerks in surprise. Oh God, I totally misread his excitement. He looks more stunned than I’ve ever seen him. “You want that?” he asks.
Desperately I reach for my go-to place for rationalizing sexual knowledge. “I read an article about it in Cosmo. How to introduce bondage into your relationship for fun and pleasure.”
“I’ve never done anything like that before.” His brow furrows.
“We don’t have to.” I’m worried. He looks tense. Have I made him start to wonder whether I really am the nice girl who remained a virgin until she met him, like he thinks I am?
I would have waited for him if I’d had a choice. I got so screwed up by what happened to me and I made things worse, by screwing up on my own accord.
“If you want it, I’m willing to try,” he says. “I don’t know if I’d be good at it. Being a Dom—that’s what it’s called, right?”
I wind and unwind the scarf nervously around my wrist. “I don’t want you to start ordering me around. I just thought it would be sexy to be tied up.”
He smiles, looking boyish. “I guess it would be.”
But when I hand him the scarf, he makes a slight grimace and looks so awkward, my heart aches for him. I shouldn’t have put him in this situation.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says softly. “I would never hurt you.”
“This isn’t about being hurt. It’s just fantasy.”
“I’ve seen women be dominated,” he says. “It wasn’t pretty. When a woman is really under a man’s power but he acts like a bastard with his power…” His voice trails off. “It’s wrong.”
I go to take the scarf from his hands, but he says, “I just want to make you feel good, Mia.” He wraps it around one of my wrists. His deep blue eyes hold mine, gazing me with so much heat it stuns me. The feel of the scarf on my skin, when I know what it’s for, makes me wet.
He ties my two hands together. He’s good at it, winding the scarf to bind them close, then tying it in a knot that’s tight but doesn’t hurt.
I lie back and hold my bound hands over my head, my naked body presented in complete invitation.
I gasp as he goes inside me, his cock covered by a condom.
I am so turned on. Utterly hot and aroused, and I’m so slick, it’s amazing. We rock together and he shifts position to please me. But I can’t get there, as usual, so I moan and whimper, and pulse my muscles to pretend I’m climaxing.
Finally he gives a soft groan and his eyes shut. When he comes, he puts his mouth over mine and kisses me. A hard, wild kiss.
Then he draws back and pulls out. He unties my hands, rubs my wrists. He treats me as gently as the Dom did with his sub at Tied.
He seemed to like it. I don’t know quite what to say. Introducing fantasy has just made us kind of awkward with each other.
My tummy growls and I’m glad of the chance to giggle and point out, “I guess we should eat.”
“Yeah, we should.”
He stands up and draws me into his embrace. I get up on my tiptoes and we hug tightly. My breasts brush his chest and I run my hands all over his broad back. I love you. Love you. Love you. And I hope I haven’t scared you or made you start to doubt me.
We have lunch in the tavern, guzzling coffees, and eating burgers along with Caesar salad. Sex gives you an appetite, sharing a meal with the man you love makes even the simplest food amazingly good. We debate condiments for burgers—caramelized onions, deep fried onions, blue cheese, arugula, and guacamole—since in Milltown, exotic means they have relish in a squeeze bottle.
“About school,” I say. “I want to help you study as much as I can. You could email stuff or mail it to me, and we could go through it together by phone or by email.”
“I can’t ask that of you. Your mom told me you’re working late every night.”
It’s true, but I won’t let Ryan flounder and fail. I just won’t. “I’m finally catching up,” I lie. “You can do this, Ryan. You’re smart.”
But his father spent years making Ryan believe he’s stupid.
He’s quiet after that, and we devour our food. We go up to our room again and tumble back into bed. This time I don’t suggest anything to do with bondage. I get on top. Looking down at Ryan’s gorgeous face, I have to wonder why I needed anything more than straight up sex with this beautiful, incredible guy.
***
It’s Dad—my stepfather.
For some reason, he comes into my room at the inn. I don’t know where Ryan is. My stepfather pushes me toward the bed.
I can’t say anything. I want to shout no. I’m not going to let him do anything to me. I was a coward before, but I can’t be one now. Not when I’m with Ryan. I can’t just let this happen to me, it’s wrong to do it to Ryan too. But even though I shout at the top of my lungs, no sound comes out.
No. No. No.
He pushes me down on the bed. He sits on the bed beside me. He isn’t holding me down. I can run. I can get away.
Why am I not moving? I try to move but nothing happens.
The shower is not running anymore. Horrified I watch the bathroom door open. Ryan is going to come out. See me lying here. He will think I want to do this.
I thrash desperately to try to make myself move—
My lids force their way open and the first thing I see is a large male body over me. I try to push him away, wild with panic—
Then I realize I’m looking up at Ryan’s horrified face.
Oh God, it was a dream and I completely freaked out.
Ryan must think I’m crazy because of what he’s seen. In two nights, I’ve had two insane nightmares.
Ryan backs off, looking hurt and confused. He’s hurt because I was fighting to shove him away. I sit up and reach out to him.
“I’m so sorry. I had this weird dream and when I woke up I didn’t realize it was you. I panicked.”
He strokes my hair. “You’re having nightmares about the guy who attacked you.”
That wasn’t what I dreamed about tonight, but I lie and say, “Yes.”
He pulls me back down on the bed, both arms wrapped around me. Last night it was one arm, tonight he’s using two. He figures I need extra soothing. I love him for it.
But I can’t get to sleep for hours. All my memories come flooding back. All the things that happened. Things that make me ashamed and make me hate myself for not having the courage to fight. Ryan’s asleep and I hear his gentle breathing.
I lie in the dark, eyes open, and tears drip to my cheeks.
***
Everything is haunting me. It’s driving me crazy. I’m scared about the stalker, but it’s the memories that are flooding back that are really killing me.
I can’t talk to Ryan about it.
What I have to do is hide it from him. I don’t know why this is happening to me. It has to stop. When I’m caught up in the nightmares, I say things. I talk in my sleep. Fortunately my words don’t make sense, but I’m scare I’ll eventually say something coherent that reveals something about my past.
I know I should be honest. If he knew the truth, I’d have nothing to worry about.
But I fear if he knew the truth, he would be gone. He believes I’m a nice girl. What I have been for much of m
y life is a screwed-up girl. And how would he feel if he learns that I’ve kind of lied to him all along by making him think I’m someone I’m not?
After we have Sunday brunch in the inn’s elegant restaurant—I convince Ryan to go in and no one seems to mind his jeans, plaid shirt, and motorcycle boots—we go back up to the room and I pack my stuff. “You should go back to school, Ryan. But I don’t want you to have to drive there. Couldn’t you fly?”
He grins. “I need to get the bike back home.”
The sun is shining, the temperature has gone up, and all the snow has disappeared. It would be safe for him to ride.
“I don’t want to go yet, Mia. I want to stay here—to look after you.”
I’m about to argue when my phone vibrates in the back pocket of my jeans. I pull it out and look at it. Jonathon has sent an invitation to an impromptu party at his place tonight.
***
Ryan is impressed by Jonathon’s amazing house. We dance together, then Ryan grabs a beer while I have a glass of wine. I see Lara, but not Jonathon.
Seeing him when I’m with Ryan should not be an issue. I don’t know why I’m nervous.
We head to the elaborate buffet, pushing through the huge crowd to grab some food.
“A college guy really owns this place?” Ryan asks, his expression one of complete awe.
“Well, he’s actually twenty-four, and he’s still in college for reasons of his own,” I explain. “He comes from a wealthy family, and he’s made his own money too, through investments in business start-ups.”
A tall guy with long black hair overhears. “Jonathon Powell has a private fortune of like thirty million. Plus he owns his own BDSM club.”
Ryan frowns a bit at that. I’d explained to him this afternoon that Jonathon was the guy who rescued me from the stalker. And I asked Ryan to tie me up. Is he wondering if that was where I got turned on to the idea?
