Touch: The Complete Series

by Cara Dee

  I did my best to protect Mark, Seth, and Ted when I failed with the other kids in our family. They didn’t matter the same amount when push came to shove, and I could only do so much.

  "Please stop," I rasp. Sweat and tears burn in my eyes, the pain continues to battle against the arousal, and the heavy topic I detest with every fiber of my being doesn’t belong in the erotic moment. I want it out of here.

  "Where were your parents in this mess?" Ryan wonders.

  "Getting high on progressive propaganda," I snap. "It wasn’t the kids in school or our teachers they lectured, was it? It was me and my siblings. We were the ones who had to fight their war." I pant, my abs tensing up. "It doesn’t fucking matter what's wrong and right. I'm not stupid. Of course I want people to accept—" A long groan escapes me as Angel's throat squeezes the head of my cock. "Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter," I exhale. "I lost my friends who thought it was weird as hell I had three sets of parents, something they insisted on fucking flaunting. Getting angry didn’t help. My parents kept saying we were right to live as we chose."

  "But it wasn’t your choice," Ryan murmurs.

  I shake my head, whimpering. Fuck, let the pain end.

  My eyes roll back behind closed lids, and Angel redoubles her efforts while Ryan runs another trail of fire along my bicep. I hear the sizzling. My balls draw up, tightening, churning and full, and I shudder violently. The tremors don’t stop.

  "How did you and your brother go from best friends to…" Angel's breathy voice trails off, as if she's unsure of how to phrase the last bit.

  "He doesn’t know I kept ignorant morons off his back." For heaven's sake, he was just a child. I have four years on him. "It was enough for him to think it wasn’t very bad." So he preaches like Mom and Dad do. Love and acceptance, flowers and fucking rainbows.

  I wanted to prove my dad wrong. Senior year, I worked day and night to get better grades. It was enough to get into a decent college, where I worked even harder. Pre-law, law school; I've been driven to the point of madness. At some point, I suppose I lost sight of the goal. All I know is…I can't ever get behind their way of thinking, and my daughter will never get ostracized for being a "freak."

  It's the last part of my life I can explain to Ryan and Angel before I get punched into a time and space where I can't separate what hurts from what's about to get me off. Acting on instinct, I push my cock deeper into Angel's perfect little mouth and throw my head back. My head is swimming, my skin is crawling, and there's a strange rhythm that lulls me deeper into the haze. My breathing picks up on the rhythm to match it. Shallow, rapid puffs of air struggle to fill my lungs.

  A sudden chill blankets me, raising goose bumps across my body, and I welcome Ryan's scorching trail of fire. Give me more. Almost there. Every sensation travels lower and lower. Murmurs float around me, and then a wave of euphoria washes over me. Time slows down as one of the most intense orgasms is drawn from my body. Yet, it's more. The release is vast on every level. Mental, emotional, physical.

  "Oh God," I breathe out.

  "That was…fucking beautiful." Ryan's voice. Husky, quiet, and smooth. A voice I've come to love.

  "He's ours, Daddy." That one, too. Whether she's spitting venom while degrading me or she's giggling in her sweet voice, I adore it.

  "We'll have to wait and find out, love."

  *

  I poke carefully at the wrap around my bicep. "I wanna see it…" My tongue feels weird. I snort and smile at the sound of myself. "Did you carve 'useless mutt' there or something?"

  "Carve," Ryan echoes with a chuckle and a shake of his head. "You're a silly goof when you fly off into subspace, aren't you?"

  I wouldn’t know, so I shrug lazily and stretch out on the bed. I'm sore everywhere, but the ache is dull and oddly comforting. There's no sharp pain. I think I know what bliss is now.

  "Maybe I'm lucky," I drawl.

  It certainly feels that way right now. I've got Angel snuggled up against me, asleep, and Ryan's sitting on my other side, back to the wall, and he's force-feeding me chocolate pudding because evidently I need sugar.

  I can think of worse ways to spend a night.

  "Isn't she mad at me anymore?" I ask quietly.

  Ryan glances over at Angel and smirks a little. "Probably, but she's more determined than anything else." Before I can ask about what, he holds a spoon of chocolate pudding and whipped cream in front of my mouth. "Eat."

  "Yes, Sir."

  He offers a pensive look at that. "One day, maybe it'll be Master."

  What? I'm sure my expression asks the question. It's getting slightly frustrating to be foggy-brained.

  "You want the whole truth?" He sets aside the pudding cup and slides down to lie beside me, elbow propped on the mattress. "We've gotten attached as fuck."

  I take a deep breath through my nose and allow myself to take some pleasure from his words. They feel too damn good. "Me, too."

  He smiles faintly and brushes his knuckles along my cheek. "You still feelin' floaty?"

  "A little." It's fading, though.

  He hums and searches my eyes for something. "Learning more about you tonight has been…enlightening. Albeit painful. You've been through a lot."

  I'd rather go back to where he says he and Angel have gotten attached to me.

  "Don't think too highly of me."

  "We don’t," he chuckles. "You're quite the fucking douchebag, but…some fall for those idiots, too."

  Fall for…

  "The rest is pretty easy to figure out," he goes on, pensive again. "You became your folks' opposite. Traditional, structured, normal. You reject what society rejects. It's all for your daughter, 'cause you don’t want her to go through the same hell you did." Indeed. Some rebel against the word normal; I see it as something to achieve. "I'm gonna be honest with you, subbie. Your family should've protected you and your brothers. I agreed with you when you said it doesn’t matter what's right and wrong. They drilled their philosophy into the children who already accepted it, when they should've been there on the front line to face the classmates and the unsupportive adults."

  I sigh in contentment. It means so much to me to have him understand that part.

  "I'm sensing a but," I murmur.

  "Mm." He inclines his head. "Angel and I can't offer you normalcy. We wanna open our relationship to include you—you'd be our equal when we're not playing—but that would make us poly, wouldn’t it? We'd want you there as a partner, not a plaything, and if shit works out, you'd be there one day when our family grows." He's talking about children, and it puts a noose around my neck. Simultaneously, I practically hurt with want. "That includes your daughter, Greg."

  I lower my gaze quickly, for fear he'll see the sheer panic that bolts through me at those words. Good fucking grief, I could never expose Abby to this. Not in a million years.

  "Look at me, pet." He lifts my chin. "Angel and I aren't your folks. We will raise our kids to be open-minded, and if they get shit for it, we'll be there for them. They won't fight our battles alone."

  Nothing short of sitting next to your child in the classroom will guarantee that.

  "Lemme ask you something," he says. "What makes you any better than your other family? What are you doing to make the world a better place for your daughter? Because…right now, you're giving her what you needed growing up. Her needs could be different, and one day she might realize she's different, and then what? She's grown up in an abnormally normal home. Maybe she'll be too afraid to open up to you. Maybe she'll fear rejection from her own parents. Or, fuck it, she could be completely normal, but some kid she goes to school with isn't, and she'll pick on him or her." With that statement, he sends my thoughts into a tailspin unlike anything else. "So…while I could quite fucking happily kick your folks' asses for not being there for you, you're going to extremes in the opposite direction, and there is such a thing as a happy goddamn medium."

  *

  "Think of what I said, boy."

&
nbsp; It's still dark when the cab pulls up outside my world of normal.

  Funny how I suddenly hate the look of it.

  "$42.70, sir."

  I wince at the reappearing pain in my arm and pull out my wallet. "How do you still exist with Lyft and Uber around?" I swipe my card and stifle a yawn.

  "Well, there're people like you."

  "Touché." Stepping out of the car, I rub a kink out of my neck and shut the door.

  "Think of what I said, boy."

  My house is empty—of more than people. There's no warmth, no sense of belonging, no feeling of rightness.

  I used to love coming home.

  A glance at the clock in the kitchen tells me it'll be another half hour before Tess is up. She's not the type of person to call off work just because she's at her mother's, so I hope to catch her then.

  It's long overdue. I haven't been fair to her in years, though denial has been my form of "ignorance is bliss." I've been so firm in my beliefs… I shake my head. I still don’t believe much will change, but I have to be honest and lay all my cards on the table.

  Ryan thinks things change then.

  "Optimistic fool," I mutter to myself. A pressure is building up in my chest, and it's impossible to shake. I'm scared. I've probably been scared for a long time, another thing I've been good at denying. Fear of the unknown, how unoriginal of me. With a heavy sigh, I wander through the house and trudge up the stairs.

  I was instructed to wait 'til tomorrow before I could change the wrap around my new scar, but screw it, I want to see Ryan's handiwork.

  "What makes you any better than your other family? What are you doing to make the world a better place for your daughter?"

  Flicking on the light in the master bath, I get a minor shock at my reflection in the mirror. How on earth have Ryan and Angel been able to look at me? The bruise under my eye is dark, angry, and shifting in shades of black and purple. There's some swelling around it. Then the bandages around my damn head… I'm a sad fucking sight.

  I carefully remove the borrowed hoodie, and my torso reveals several other bruises. Fainter, lighter, though everything stands out against my pale skin.

  I hiss as I slowly peel off the bandage wrap Ryan covered my brand with.

  He branded me.

  More permanent than a tattoo.

  "No, it can't be…" I frown, carefully lifting the soft compress. The wound is red and irritated, but clean so the design stands out.

  I crumple in an instant at the sight of it and quickly cover my mouth with my hand. The second glance at the wound cracks my chest open, and part of me can't believe it. Tears spring to my eyes, blurring my vision. He fucking branded me; he gave me the same mark he's given Angel. A downward-facing triangle with the letter Q inside it. Quinn.

  "Think of what I said, boy. And if you come back here, you've decided you want more. You've treated your wife with the respect she deserves. You've been truthful with her and yourself, and no matter how slowly, you'll be here to give a new relationship an honest chance."

  I can't do this anymore, goddammit.

  Redressing the wound, I pull myself together and then leave the bathroom. It's time to call Tess. I've reached my breaking point, and all I want right now is to get away from here so I can think clearly. I've lost sight of more than my goals. I've lost sight of who I am.

  Behind the Scenes

  The Touch of a Sadist

  Ryan Quinn

  "He's supposed to be with us, Daddy." Angel sniffles and buries her face in the pillow. "It hurts."

  It's gonna be a rough day, I can tell.

  "I know, baby." And as the pain increases, I grow more determined to take it away from her—if only for a moment. This has never been an issue with the other guys we've played with, and to be honest, it's fucked with my head. If anything, I thought Greg was the man I'd grow the least attached to.

  Joke's on me.

  There's something about that bastard…

  I shake my head, ridding the thought for now. My girl's in as much pain as I am, and I can do something about hers.

  I disappear from our bedroom for a moment to wash up, and then I return with a bottle of oil and two towels.

  "Whatever you're planning, I'm not in the mood," she mumbles into the pillow. "Unless it's ice cream and snuggles."

  "We can do that after." I kneel on the bed after grabbing one of her vibrators. "Get on your back for me and lose the panties."

  She whines.

  I smack her tight little ass. "Now, Angel."

  "Fiiine. What're we gonna do, anyway?"

  "You're gonna lie there, and I'm gonna push a limit."

  For being a pain-slut, there are a few acts she's terrified of in the non-pleasant way, and we're gonna change that today. It's time.

  She cracks one eye open, her lashes thick with tears. "What limit?"

  Crawling over to her, I slip a towel underneath her and kiss her softly. "You're gonna take my fist up your pretty little cunt."

  Fear fills her eyes. "Um, no. Master, please don't—"

  "Do you trust me?" I stroke her cheek.

  She swallows. "You know I do," she whispers. "I don’t like that kind of pain, though."

  A faint smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. "Have you ever had it?"

  Her brows knit together, and she hugs her exposed body self-consciously.

  She's been my biggest addiction, almost since the day we met and she punched me. When she learned I was a Dominant, she grinned with glee and dove right in. She was reawakened by sadomasochism. She's still learning, but then, aren't we all?

  "We'll go slow the first time," I promise.

  She quirks a brow. "The first time?"

  Oh, you'll want more, love.

  Taking her mouth with mine, I kiss her deeply and make her forget ever speaking.

  I wanna ruin her in the best ways. She's so small and soft in my arms, but there's more underneath. A whole world I'm still exploring after knowing her—loving her—for years.

  Today I wanna see her bare her teeth at the pain.

  Her fingers tease the skin under my T-shirt, and I back away long enough to yank it over my head and toss it on the floor.

  I watch her watch me as I push down my sweats. The lust is unmistakable, but she's like a skittish animal this morning. She nibbles on her bottom lip, gaze flickering.

  Then we're both naked. Kissing her more, I let her hands test the waters. She touches me cautiously, as if we're new to one another. Her breath hitches while I start a trail of kisses down to her tits.

  "I'm nervous," she admits.

  "Good." I'll take pleasure from it.

  There's no way I can do this without getting off first. She'll be too tempting once I begin. Lying down next to her, I pull her close and order her to straddle my face. Her cheeks flush scarlet, which makes me groan. Fuck, fuck. She can't do that. It drives me fucking bonkers.

  "I want you to suck me off while I tongue-fuck you," I murmur, touching her cheek. "You'll do that for me, right?"

  She nods quickly, and I save her from fumbling by flipping her over, eliciting a squeaked giggle from her. Too goddamn adorable. I grin and point to my cock—get to sucking—and I hike her leg over my head and curse, getting up close with her sweet pussy.

  I squeeze her soft, pert ass and pull her down farther, burying my face in her cunt. She gasps and whimpers as I lick her. I eat her out, kiss her like I'd kiss her mouth. I suck on the smooth lips and swipe my tongue over her clit.

  She relaxes. This is us. This is me. She trusts me.

  A groan rumbles in my chest at the feel of her fingers trying reach around my cock. She takes it slowly at first, licking at me, sucking gently, but once I go a little rougher, she goes to town on me. I ravish her, grazing my teeth over her clit, burying my tongue inside her.

  She moans and shudders.

  She sucks me like a good little girl I've also turned into an outstanding whore.

  "Goddamn." I grunt as I hit her
throat.

  She responds by sucking me deeper, gagging a little but continuing right away.

  I give her ass another solid squeeze and then glide one hand up her back. I cup the back of her head, her silky hair sliding between my fingers. She gags and pulls away enough to gasp for air and tell me she's close.

  That’s my cue to stop, and I haul her off of me without warning. I throw her down on the mattress and straddle her upper body. Her eyes widen, but she fucking licks her lips.

  "There's my whore," I mutter huskily.

  She squirms like a bitch in heat, and I fuck her face until I come down her throat.

  *

  We roll around on the bed and make out like teenagers, and while I'm momentarily spent, her needs make me hungry for more. She's a sprite. Youthful, sweet.

  "I need to come, Daddy," she moans.

  I smirk and settle half on top of her, stroking her hip. "Actually, you need to do what I tell you." With a light smack to her thigh, I twist my body and grab the little vibrator and the oil. "Switch it on and keep it on your clit—lowest setting."

  Some of her worry is back, but I pay no attention to it. I won't make it a big deal.

  Staying beside her, I order her to keep her legs spread, and I kiss her senseless because I fucking need it. The low buzz of the vibrator keeps her wet and needy, and whenever I break a kiss to catch my breath, she tries to follow.

  She takes two fingers in her soaked pussy without problems, and a third causes her to gasp and buck her hips.

  "Don’t come." I graze my teeth along her jawline. "Don't fucking come."

  Peering down her flushed body, I eye the bottle of oil resting against her inner thigh. She's wet as fuck, but it'll ease her mind to slick her up more, and I'm gonna need it eventually, anyway.

  I go for broke and coat her pussy, letting my fingers get slippery before I push them inside her again.

  "Oh," she breathes out.

  My cock grows harder along her hip. She nips at my lower lip, and I ease us into a slow, passionate kiss. I finger-fuck her just as slowly. My thumb strokes her impossibly soft folds, my pinkie teasing the spot between her pussy and asshole.