Even the faint hint of bitterness from the condom couldn’t take away from the sweetness of her pussy, and before long, even that was gone, leaving me with only the sweet, heady taste of her. The tension in her body language wasn’t so quick to melt away, but after a few minutes, melt away it did. She relaxed enough to let my fingers slide easily in and out of her. Her own fingers alternately combed through my hair and clawed at the bedsheets. Her breathing eased into an uneven rhythm of gasps and sighs.
Her back arched and I laid my arm across her hips again to hold her steady. Minute by minute, she gave in a little more. Closer and closer, letting herself go a little at a time. Her hips squirmed beneath my arm and her spine lifted off the bed. The whimper that escaped her lips was strained. Choked. Her pussy tightened. Her breathing quickened.
My heart pounded. Yes, baby, come. Let yourself go.
She exhaled hard and her body relaxed suddenly. The breath she released this time was a hiss of frustration, of defeat. She’d let herself get right to the edge, then pulled back. Fear, apprehension, something had drawn her away from it.
I didn’t relent with mouth or fingers, though. I had all the time in the world to coax her back to the brink, and if she didn’t want to give up, neither did I.
She fought me—no, the demons of her past, not me—every step of the way. One moment, she pressed her pussy against me, silently demanding more. The next, she drew back just slightly. More, less, more, less. Her breathing would become rapid and shallow, coming in sharp gasps as she squeezed my fingers and inched that. Much. Closer.
Then she’d relax again. A sigh would escape her lips, and we’d begin that climb, that dance, once again. My jaw was tired and my neck ached, but I refused to stop until she told me to or she came, whichever happened first.
“Oh my God, Scott,” she moaned. The hand in my hair twitched and trembled. Every stroke with my fingers was more difficult than the last as she squeezed them harder, and her hips tried to buck against my arm, but I held her still, held her steady, and kept teasing her clit and G-spot.
She shuddered.
Gasped.
Held her breath.
Then she exhaled hard, and once again, her orgasm faded before it had begun.
She still didn’t ask me to stop. I still didn’t stop. The demons Rich had left in her head would win this one over my dead body.
Just as we had so many times, we made the climb again. Shallower breathing. Crescendoing moans. Trembling, squeezing, shuddering, let yourself go, baby…
She teetered there, right there, balancing on that fine line between giving in and pulling back, and I encouraged her to inch toward giving in, toward crossing over to that point of no return. I kept fluttering my tongue on and around her clit, kept stroking her G-spot with two fingers, kept going, kept going, a little faster, kept going, kept—
With a breathless moan, she surrendered. Even with my arm across them, her hips lifted off the bed. Her body writhed against me, and her pussy tightened almost enough to prevent my fingers from moving at all. She gasped and trembled, rocking her hips in time with my hand, fucking my fingers as her own hand gripped my hair.
I backed off. My fingers moved slower now, and with my tongue, I made gentle, languid circles around her clit without actually touching it. I let her just begin to catch her breath, then carefully moved in on her clit again, keeping my touch light so she wouldn’t get painfully sensitive.
And just as I’d hoped, that first orgasm crumbled whatever had kept her from letting go, and it took mere moments to make her come a second time. When she did, I didn’t even have time to mentally thumb my nose in her bastard ex’s direction, because my own need for release—my need to fuck her until neither of us could take anymore—overwhelmed me.
The instant her body relaxed and she released a long sigh, I withdrew my fingers. Moved up. Over her. Above her. Inside her. Deep inside her. Oh, fuck, so damned tight. Her legs around my waist. Her breath on my face. Her mouth against mine. Nails on my back. Oh my God, rocking her hips. Pulling me deeper. Tighter. Tighter. So. Fucking. Tight.
With a throaty cry, she arched her back beneath me and came a third time, hauling me right to and beyond that brink with her. I thrust a few more times, as many times as this delirium would allow, then shuddered so violently it was almost painful before I collapsed over her. The entire universe went white, went silver, went to fucking pieces all around me and in me and had I been able to release my breath at all, I’d have roared with the sheer intensity of it all.
It was probably less than a minute, but it felt like hours before I stopped shaking enough to lift myself up on to my forearms.
“I forgot how much I love what you do with your mouth,” she said, panting.
I grinned. “Any time you want me to remind you,” I slurred, “just say the word.”
She laughed. Then she reached up and brushed her thumb just below my eye. “I didn’t make you cry this time, did I?”
“What?” I reached up, and sure enough, my eyes were wet. I chuckled. “No, you didn’t make me cry.”
“So you just have something in your eye?”
“Very funny,” I growled, leaning down to kiss her. “Like your eyes have never watered when you’ve had an intense orgasm.”
She grinned. “But there’s so much more to brag about if I get to say I made Scott fucking Moore cry during sex.”
I laughed. “You would brag about that, wouldn’t you?”
“You’d better believe it.”
“Bitch,” I muttered.
“Pussy.” She giggled when I rolled my eyes.
I tried not to grin. “Why do I get the feeling you’re going to be a bratty sub?”
She showed her palms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh.” I gave her the sternest look I could muster, but it didn’t last, and we both laughed. Then I pulled out slowly, sat up, and got out of bed to take care of the condom. As I did, I couldn’t decide what shook more: my hands or my knees. In spite of that unsteadiness, though, I managed to get rid of the condom and get back into bed without incident.
Lying on our sides, we didn’t speak for a while. Fingers trailed over skin, long looks passed between longer kisses, but there were no words.
Eventually, after we’d both caught our breath, I broke the silence. “You doing okay?”
She gave a quiet laugh. “Scott, you just gave me three orgasms in a row. Of course I am.”
“You know what I mean.” I ran my fingers through her hair. “Since this was something you weren’t sure about…” I raised my eyebrows.
Meredith smiled and raised her head to kiss me. “Guess I was worried about nothing.”
“I wouldn’t say that. It obviously bothered you.”
“I don’t think it’ll be a problem in the future.”
“You never know.” I brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “But if it does bother you in the future, we’ll just take it slow, the same way we did tonight.”
She blew out a breath. “I’d hate to see how I’ll handle everything else if I’m still hung up on something this… simple.”
“There’s nothing simple about any of it, babe. You’ve been through hell and back. Some things will come easy, some won’t, and there may be some setbacks. This isn’t going to happen overnight.”
“I wish it would,” she muttered. “I hate feeling this way about sex, and I hate dragging you into something that’s going to take—”
“I’m in no hurry, Meredith,” I whispered. “This will take as long as it takes. You’re calling the shots. This is going to be at your speed.”
“So how do we balance me calling the shots with you being the Dom?”
“When we get to that point? Easily.” I shrugged. “Because the sub is the one who’s in control.”
She blinked. “Really?”
I sighed. “You have a lot to learn about kink, my dear.” I kissed her gently. “But yes, the sub is always in co
ntrol. Your limits dictate how far I go. Sure, I’ll tell you to kneel, or strip, or suck my cock, but you have the power to stop everything with a single word.”
“Right, there’s the safe word,” she said. “But if I’m your sub, aren’t you the one in control?”
I shrugged again. “On the surface, yes.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And below the surface?”
I pulled her a little closer, laying my arm across her waist. “Here’s how submission works, babe. It’s a power exchange. Yes, you’re giving me power, but what you’re saying is you trust me enough that you’re willing to surrender control to me. We will have discussed your limits, and you’ll know I’m going to respect them. You’re saying you have no doubt that, on that incredibly off chance you need to use your safe word, I’ll honor it without question or hesitation.” I kissed her gently and caressed her face. “When you’re my sub, you’re not giving me license to do whatever the hell I want with no regard for you. Quite the opposite. You get to lie back and enjoy the ride I have planned for you, without worry, because you trust that I’ve planned it all out with your needs in mind. Yeah, I’m technically the one in charge, but by letting me take charge like that, you’re saying, ‘now do with me as I wish to have done.’”
Her eyes lost focus for a moment. “I never thought of it that way.” Then she smiled and met my eyes. “But I’m definitely glad I came to you for this.”
“Of course you are,” I said, chuckling softly. “I just gave you three orgasms in a row.”
She laughed. “And I made you cry.”
“Hey, you didn’t make me cry.”
“Then what was—”
“I was not crying.”
“Sure you weren’t, Scott.” She laughed again, but as her humor faded, something darker settled into her expression. “It’s kind of hard to think of the submissive being the one in control when my only experience has involved being locked in a dungeon and—” She paused. “Well, being treated the way Rich treated me.”
I cursed under my breath and rolled my eyes. “Obviously he took the term ‘dungeon’ and applied it a bit too literally. I can promise you no one has ever been held in mine against her will, and any woman who’s ever been tied to my Saint Andrew’s Cross has done so because she wanted to.”
“Wow,” she breathed.
“And yet you still wanted to do this?” I said. “Without knowing what I just told you, and only having your experiences with him?”
She nodded. “I knew I wanted to be a submissive, even if I didn’t understand it as well as you do. I knew what I went through with Rich wasn’t the same thing you were involved in. It couldn’t be.” Our eyes met. “There was no way someone like you would do to people what he did to me, so I knew it had to be different.” A faint smile curled the corners of her lips as she reached for my face. “And I was right.”
I put my hand over hers on my cheek. “You absolutely were.” We held each other’s gazes for a moment. Then she raised her head, drew me to her, and kissed me.
When we looked at each other again, she said, “So, tell me about this ‘dungeon’ of yours.”
I grinned. “Why tell you when I could show you?” I gestured at the bedroom door. “It’s right across the hall.”
Chapter 6
“You sure you want to see this?”
Meredith laughed nervously. “It’s just a room. I can handle it.”
I kept my hand on the doorknob, but made no move to turn it. I’d offered to show her this place, but in the few minutes it had taken for us to get up and throw some clothes on, some second thoughts crept in.
“We can just keep things in the bedroom for now,” I said. “There’s no need to take it into the dungeon yet.”
“We’re not taking anything in there,” she said with a slight smile. “You’re just showing it to me.” I didn’t move. She sighed. “I’ll be fine, Scott. Are you just worried I’ll notice how unkempt it is?”
“Unkempt?” I scoffed. “There isn’t a room in this house that qualifies as unkempt.”
She nodded toward the door. “Prove it.”
“Nice try.” My humor faded. “Look, a place like this isn’t a big deal to me, but with what you’ve been through…”
She smiled. “I appreciate the concern. I can handle it, though, I promise.”
I let go of the doorknob and turned around, leaning against the closed door. “I know this isn’t something you probably want to think about, but before we go in there… Tell me about Rich’s dungeon. What was it… what did it look like?”
Meredith grimaced. “Do we really have to go there?”
“We don’t have to,” I said. “But I’d like to know ahead of time if I’m about to bring you into someplace that’s going to take you back there.”
“So you’re taking me back there yourself?”
“In a way, yeah, I guess I am.” I inclined my head. “But if what’s behind this door is the same thing that you lived with before, I’d like a chance to warn you about it.”
She hugged herself and shivered. “I’d rather take my chances with this. Somehow I doubt what you have is anything like what he did.”
I chewed my lip. “It’s your call.”
I turned the knob and pushed the door open with my back, watching her eyes the entire time. I flicked the switch beside the door, and the half dozen sunken lights in the ceiling came to life.
“This is it,” I said. “My dungeon.” I gestured for her to go in, and as she did, I didn’t close the door. Leaving it open meant my cat could get in here, something the little shit quickly took full advantage of, but it also meant the safety of somewhere else was close by for Meredith while she took in her surroundings. How familiar they were, I didn’t know, but I still worried it would be unnervingly close to the environment she’d lived and breathed for far too long.
She looked around. The hardwood floors creaked under our feet, and though I’d never considered the sound terribly eerie, it had that effect when Meredith shuddered. I’d painted the walls and ceiling black, and with only the dim sunken lights and what little light spilled in from the hallway, the place was dark.
Malia scurried across the floor, a black streak sweeping through shadows, and attacked one leg of my Saint Andrew’s Cross.
“Hey, hey, I don’t think so.” I grabbed her, popping her claws out of the wooden beam before tucking her squirming carcass under my arm. “You can be in here, but no scratching.” I shook my finger at her like she was a misbehaving child, and she took a swipe at me.
Meredith laughed. “She really does keep you on your toes, doesn’t she?”
“You have no idea.”
“You’ve seen the one I deal with.” Even as she spoke, her gaze tracked around the room, and she hugged herself as if the place was twenty degrees colder than it was. She eyed the Saint Andrew’s Cross. Looked over the rack of whips, floggers, and canes. A nervous ripple ran down the front of her throat and she recoiled slightly, probably at the sight of the three cat o’ nine tails hanging on one end of the rack.
Absently stroking Malia, I watched Meredith, and my chest ached with both anger and sadness. I’d seen new subs respond to the sight of a dungeon with nerves and apprehension. I’d watched their instinctive responses to something intimidating and unknown. The deep-seated fear etched into Meredith’s face and body language shouldn’t have been. This was a place to push limits, challenge senses, mix pleasure and pain. Not terrorize.
I hoped it was nothing like the one she’d endured under Rich’s control. I hadn’t exactly designed it to be a cheery environment, but I hadn’t had a traumatized sub in mind either.
She shifted her attention back to the Saint Andrew’s Cross. I watched her look over the vertical “X” formed by thick twin beams. She furrowed her brow as she checked out the ankle and wrist restraints at the ends.
When she looked over her shoulder at me, she grinned and nodded toward the Cross. “I’m guessing you built it?”
>
“But of course.” I returned the grin. “Why would I buy what I can build with my own two hands?”
She laughed. “You always did like building things.” Her smile faded, and she looked at the Cross again. “That and… fixing things.”
I cocked my head. “Meaning?”
She shrugged. Smiled. Glanced at me. Then she shook her head. “Nothing.”
I set the cat down and stepped behind Meredith. As I slid my arms around her waist, I said, “You don’t think I’m doing this just because I like fixing things, do you?”
“You do like a project,” she whispered.
I sighed and gently turned her around to face me. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, I said, “Baby, you know me better than that.”
Dropping her gaze, she nodded. “I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply…” She trailed off and sighed. Finally, she looked at me again. “You don’t really have to do this, Scott.”
“You came to me for help.”
“I know, but I didn’t think you’d… we’d…”
I touched her face and kissed her lightly. “You know I would never turn my back on you. I want to help you, and that’s why you’re here.
Meredith looked away.
I pulled her into my arms. “After everything we’ve done so far, after everything I heard you tell Leslie today, do you really think I’m going to walk away?”
She rested her head under my chin and put her arms around my waist. “No. I know you wouldn’t. You’re not that kind of person.”
“Then why are you still doubting me?”
She released a long breath. “It’s not that I doubt you. It’s just, I spent so fucking long with… well, you know what I went through.” She loosened her grasp and lifted her head to look me in the eye. “I know you, Scott. I trust you. But I’m not used to being able to lean on someone like I’m asking to lean on you.”
I touched her face and held her closer. “Get used to it. I’m not going anywhere.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she sank into my embrace again. We stood in silence for a long moment, completely still except my fingers running through her hair. I wondered if she caught on to the irony of seeking comfort in my arms in this room, in something that may have been eerily similar to another place she’d known too well. Whether she did or not, I didn’t point it out. I just held her.
Reconstructing Meredith (Light Switch Book 2) Page 7
