Cruel to Be Kind

by Stephanie Vaughan

  “Easy there, big fella.” Using that sinfully seductive hair as a control again, Megan tugged firmly on it, pulling his mouth away before she lost her mind. It half killed her, but she made herself release the handfuls of hair she’d been gripping like a drowning woman. His lips were slick with the same moisture that clung to her nipple and Megan had a sudden, powerful urge to see them bruised and full from her kisses.

  Without breaking his gaze, she reached down between them for his neglected cock. Wrapping a hand around as much of it as she could, Megan gave it a preliminary stroke.

  “Tell me a fantasy, Steve. What’s the hottest thing you’ve never done?”

  Chapter Five

  It was heaven.

  It was pure fucking torture.

  It was the hottest thing he’d ever done.

  And neither one of them was even naked yet. It took a few seconds for the meaning of her words to work their way through the fog of lust that shrouded his brain. She’d asked a question. And she expected an answer.

  “You. I want to fuck you.”

  As soon as the words had left his mouth, Steve wanted to call them back. He could read the disappointment on Megan’s face. Shit. He needed to get this right.

  Usually he was the smooth one with women. Ever since he was a kid he’d been next in line behind his brother. Taller, stronger, bigger—Rick had attracted women by just existing. Steve had had to learn to compete, and he’d done it with charm. By the time he’d reached high school he could talk a girl into his car and out of her panties. But just when it mattered most his entire lifetime’s supply of smooth had deserted him. It probably had something to do with the one small hand wrapped around his cock.

  “We’ll get to that.” His pulse skyrocketed at her words, spoken so matter-of-factly. “But I want to find out more about you first. You must have some fantasies. Tell me a fantasy,” she coaxed.

  As she talked Megan had resumed stroking him, one hand on his dick, the other tracing circles on his chest. The hand holding his cock slid authoritatively toward the end and a thumb pressed sharply into the tip. His moan of pleasure was strangled at birth as Megan’s other hand pinched a nipple. Ever since he’d had them pierced they’d been extra sensitive—almost an electric connection to his cock—and the twin sensations brought him up off the chair.

  Or would have if Megan hadn’t countered his movement by bracing a hand against his chest and squeezing harder on his cock.

  “Easy there, big fella. Here…” Releasing her grip on his rigid flesh, Megan stepped back. “I’ll stop distracting you and let you concentrate. How’s that?”

  Letting her hand trail over his arm and shoulder, she moved around him. Never completely out of contact, Megan now stood directly behind him. His hands still pushed through the back of the chair, Steve stretched his fingers, instinctively seeking her flesh. Whether by accident or design, he could just nearly skim the smooth skin of her thigh with his fingertips.

  Megan’s hands moved to his head again, fingers grazing his scalp, and began sifting rhythmically through his hair, tugging with an erotically firm touch. A shiver raced up his spine, reached across his shoulders and circled his head, as her hands again and again combed from crown to shoulders.

  “I have no intention of repeating myself, Steve. I’m waiting.”

  It might have been accidental, but Megan’s use of his name was accompanied by a tug so sharp his eyes watered. As another shiver swept his body his cock gave a corresponding twitch. How could he be expected to answer questions when he burned so hot for her he wasn’t sure he could still form words?

  “I’ll just go sit over there and give you a minute to think.”

  “God, no!” He amazed himself that he was able to squeeze out that much. “Don’t stop.”

  As fingers slowly raked his scalp again, Steve’s eyes closed in pleasure and the floor tilted. Or maybe he was the one leaning. Either way it felt so damn good he’d say just about anything to keep her hands on him. Waves of sensation washed over him as magic hands alternately tugged and soothed. A thought nagged at the edge of his consciousness and he tried to focus. But the sense of well-being that flooded all the empty places inside him effectively shut down everything else.

  He could no more form words than he could fly. Except he was flying. Steve floated on the wash of sensation. Until his nagging conscience overtook him with the awareness that the sizzle of warmth that had surrounded him was gone. He was floating in his bubble alone now.

  And with his next breath the bubble was gone.

  Reluctantly, Steve opened his eyes to see Megan standing over him, her expression unreadable. As he mentally searched for the cause of her displeasure, he had a moment’s panic when he realized she was no longer touching him. How to get her back?

  He held his breath and blurted the next thought that popped into his head. “Two women. At once.”

  He began to breathe again when she responded … “And?”

  “And they’re both really into it. Really want it. They want it bad—from me.” The words began slowly, but picked up momentum as Steve described the half-formed idea taking shape in his head. “I take care of them both. One with my mouth. One with my dick. It’s so fucking good. The best they’ve ever had. They can’t believe it.”

  He stumbled a bit over the last word, half-expecting to be whacked upside the head for letting her see what pig he was deep down.

  “Mmm, yeah. That’s a classic.” Megan didn’t seem upset, though. Or disgusted. Just the opposite, in fact. “And you probably wouldn’t fight too hard if one of them was a bi-racial underwear model, either. Would you?”

  “I’d tough it out.”

  “You’re so brave. I’m in awe.” The lightest touch, so light Steve couldn’t be sure it was there, brushed his forehead. “So, what else?”

  “What else? You want more?”

  “Oh yeah.” Coming close again, Megan hiked up her skirt with one hand, using the other for balance. Then slowly, heart-stoppingly slowly, she lowered herself across his knees. “I want to hear what else you fantasize about.” Releasing her skirt, she once again wrapped her hand around his cock.

  “Shit. Like I can think about anything but your hand on my dick right now.”

  “Really? So this is working for you?” Using both hands now, Megan began to slowly pump him, fingers rolling over his flesh like a constricting python. So fucking good! She was killing him. But what a way to go. “Has anyone ever tied you down?”

  Sitting on his lap the way she was, their eyes were about even. Hers were such a dark brown, almost black, that her pupils were nearly swallowed up by them.

  “No.”

  “Ever thought about it?” Another double pump of his cock had him groaning his denial.

  “Huh-uh.”

  “You can’t lie to me, Steve. I’ve got the ultimate lie-detector in my hands and it says you have thought about it.”

  Sure enough, his dick gave an involuntary twitch. His gut clenched and he could see himself tied down. At her mercy as she took her pleasure from his body. His cock.

  Someone moaned and her mouth slammed down on his in wet, devouring kiss. Steve opened to her, tried to inhale her, their tongues tangling wildly. The hot mouth that meshed with his took no prisoners. The hands working his helpless dick were merciless. He couldn’t fight the feelings as he was lashed between the brutal pleasures of her fingers and mouth.

  Megan’s body shifted and the burning moist heat of her pussy brushed the base of his shaft. God, he wanted inside of her! It would finish him off, but wanted it. Needed it.

  He wasn’t going to get it. The irresistible rhythm of his cock inside the prison of her fingers pushed him to the edge of a towering cliff. And then over.

  This is not love.

  You are not in love. It’s way too soon. What you’re feeing is the result of hormones and chemistry. And the fact that you haven’t gotten off with anything that wasn’t powered by a pair of C batteries in over a year.<
br />
  Still hadn’t, for that matter.

  Megan looked again at the face before her and pondered the unknown. What were the odds that someone so responsive, so intense, so perfect for her had been placed in her path? What were the odds that someone like him even existed? And living in her own little podunk town. She wouldn’t have believed it herself if she hadn’t just experienced the unexplainable. Steve was every Domme’s most un-secret dream brought to life in every exquisite detail.

  No, that wasn’t true. Not every Domme’s.

  But definitely this one’s.

  Megan was ready to swear that he’d slipped into sub-space for a few minutes there. And she doubted he even realized it. Probably didn’t even know what it was. Which made what an incredible natural he was that much more amazing.

  “Are you alright?” Her voice sounded husky and awkward to her own ears. What had passed between them was powerful and she wasn’t ashamed to admit she was a little shaken. And more than little touched.

  Opening his eyes slowly, it took Steve a few moments to focus on her. His gaze had the dazed look of someone who’d had too much to drink.

  “Yeah. I’m good.” His eyes closed again briefly until he roused himself with a noticeable jerk. “Wrecked, but good.”

  Reaching into her back pocket, Megan removed a clean handkerchief she had placed there while dressing for her date. Her plan for the evening had been a loose one and she hadn’t been certain whether or not she would need it. But what might as easily have served as a blindfold became not just a matter of good manners, but an expression of caretaking. And even tenderness.

  She took the square of soft, white cloth with its edging of old lace and gently wiped away the sticky semen that covered her fingers and Steve’s cock. She couldn’t resist a last, fond caress as she returned it to its resting place behind the placket of his carpenter’s shorts. Her aching cunt clenched in regret, as though it knew it wouldn’t be making the acquaintance of that magnificent specimen tonight. Her clit throbbed in time to the blood that still sang in her veins. Her head told her she wouldn’t die from frustration. But the hollow core of her that continued to pulse in readiness wasn’t so sure.

  “You were … amazing.” Steve looked back at her and it tugged at Megan’s heart to see the doubt in them. “I can see you’ve never had anyone who appreciated how special you are. You’re incredible.”

  As if of their own accord, her lips had eased closer to his, her breath whispering across Steve’s. It was the most natural thing in the world to close the distance and press her lips to his in a tender kiss.

  It felt like a first kiss.

  Whereas before their mouths had clashed in a ritual of passion and claiming, this was a breathtakingly gentle meeting. Megan’s tongue stroked the seam of Steve’s lips in feather-light brushes like the staccato beat of hummingbird wings. But something was missing.

  “Put your arms around me. I want to feel you holding me, Steve.”

  Faster than she would have thought possible, considering he first had to untangle his hands from the back of the chair, strong arms clamped around her waist and back. Megan responded in kind, wrapping her own arms around Steve’s neck. His kiss somehow caught her by surprise, but it felt completely right to angle her head to meet him and take the kiss deeper.

  The kiss went on, tongues stroking, lips tasting, until Megan realized she had begun to rock her hips against him. The white-hot encounter just ended might have brought Steve some relief, but it had created quite the opposite condition in Megan. And clamor though her body might for a long, hard ride, her mind understood that she had stick to her plan. She needed to cool things down, not heat them back up again.

  Breaking away, Megan drew a long, steadying breath. “We’d better stop there for now.”

  “Stop? I don’t think so. I finally got my hands on you and I’ve got a whole laundry list of things I want to do with you.”

  Steve’s hair was still mussed from Megan’s fingers. The light glinted off the golden barbells through his nipples and drew her eye. But the slow, thorough exploration of his body that she had planned would have to wait. Rules and cautions existed for a reason. They were there for everyone’s protection. No matter how she might ache to roll those flat, male nipples through her teeth while she tormented his luscious cock—moving too fast would only endanger them both.

  “Good. We can compare lists, then, because I have plans for you, too. Later. After you get me those papers. Besides,” she paused as she climbed slowly off the large lap where she’d been so comfortable, “looks like our pizza is right on time.”

  “You did what?!”

  “Jeez, Jaci. You could call dogs with that shriek.” Megan glanced around the Jim Dandy Diner, trying to judge how many of the morning’s customers were reacting to her friend’s cackle. It was hard to tell how many were looking because of the volume and pitch of Jaci’s yell and how many were staring because that’s what people always did when Jaci was around.

  Wondering for the two-thousandth time what life must be like for the six-foot-tall, blonde, model-gorgeous ones in life, Megan realized the description could just as well describe the man she’d been with last night. She realized she liked the phrase ‘been with’ in relation to Steve and let it roll around her mind. There was something a little bit illicit and a whole lot thrilling about it. It had been a long time since she’d been with anyone for anything more than a casually social evening.

  She’d had dinner with Evan Coughlin once, but they’d been more passionate about their respective businesses than each other. She loved ice skating and she’d gone out for drinks with an ex-pro hockey player she’d met at the rink. He was a nice enough guy, and Megan had enjoyed skating with him and listening to his stories of his playing days with the Vancouver Canucks. But there’d been no spark on her side and she’d let him down as gently as she knew how when he’d pressed for more.

  “Girl, you did not. Tell me you did not stick your fingers up your pussy and paint his cheeks with your … your ‘dew.’”

  “Okay. Have it your way. I didn’t.” Megan toyed with her coffee cup, spinning it in place inside its saucer, to give her hands something to do. What she had done last night with Steve in the office above Goldie’s had felt as natural as breathing. Like hearing music you hadn’t heard in years and remembering the steps of a dance you had once known by heart, being with Steve had felt effortless. After the first couple of stilted steps, they had danced together like they’d done it a hundred times before.

  But from the minute she had closed the door to her little Honda hybrid, leaving Steve to watch her pull away, Megan had begun second-guessing herself. What if she’d gone too fast and freaked him out? He’d never been dommed before, she could tell. His actions were too awkward and hesitant. She’d bet any amount of currency that he knew nothing about Dominant/submissive relationships.

  “Oh my God, did you really? You actually striped his cheeks like a bad sixties TV Indian? You are something else, girl. You know that?”

  Megan looked up in time to see her friend’s eyes stray toward the door. The bells above it tinkled as an elderly couple left. Looking from Jaci to the door and back again, Megan responded.

  “Yeah, I get that a lot.” From the corner of her eye Megan saw her old friend Evan walk in and take a seat at the counter and Jaci’s million-dollar smile dimmed by a few thousand megawatts. Curiouser and curiouser. “Maybe I wanted him to have something to remember me by. So sue me.”

  “So. You and Steve Eriksson.” Her friend picked up the thread of the conversation again. “I never would have predicted that. You’re so big city and he’s so … so Remington.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning … I don’t know what it means, Megan. Okay, I guess what I’m saying is, I don’t see what the attraction is. I see what your attraction is for him. You’re my friend and you’re beautiful and smart and interesting. But Steve? Oh, sure he’s got the long hair and the great bod and he’s a par
tner in his own company but—hey, when I put it like that I might even be interested.” Jaci’s grin was back full-power now.

  “Forget it. He’s taken. Besides, you play for the other team. Remember?”

  Chapter Six

  Steve stepped out of the shower and glanced at the clock on the bathroom sink. The little clock with large numbers, easy to read without his contact lenses in, showed 5:10. He had twenty minutes before Megan was due to arrive. Toweling himself off, he stepped into the bedroom, giving it another visual inspection. He had finally convinced her to come to his place for the evening and he had high hopes for the bedroom later.

  Pulling on a clean pair of shorts, Steve glanced around the room. While he didn’t figure he’d get tapped for any magazine spreads, he liked to think it was a step above the usual bachelor dump. He’d spent enough years bunking with Rick before Dad’s construction business had taken off to appreciate his own space and he’d put some time and money into it.

  The bed was a pine California King and Steve liked being able to lie in the middle of it and not be able to feel an edge. He’d had to ask the sales girl to help pick out the colors for the bedding, though. Being color-blind, he didn’t trust himself not to pick something that would make the first woman he brought over run screaming. And asking his mom just seemed too pathetic.

  He wasn’t a pig, but he wasn’t anal about cleaning, either. He’d been around enough women in his life, though, to know that most of them put a higher priority on things like an absence of dirty underwear on the floor than most men did. Maybe it came from working in the construction industry, but Steve figured he was at least partially responsible for Oro County’s perpetual water shortage. He was addicted to showers. He had to take one when he got home from a job—the dirt and the grime on his skin that came with working in, under, and around, old houses made his skin crawl. He’d been known to take another one in the morning, as well.