Reconstructing Meredith (Light Switch Book 2)

by Lauren Gallagher

  The glass clinked on the table.

  She exhaled, her shoulders falling as she stared at the floor between us.

  When I spoke, I kept my voice low and even. “Tell me your safe words.”

  “Red if I want to stop, yellow to slow down, Master.”

  “Good girl.” I paused. “Clothes off.”

  I never could decide what turned me on more when Kristen undressed in front of me: her unquestioning obedience, or just the fact that she was so fucking sexy when she stripped. Shrugging off a blouse to reveal whatever piece of lingerie she’d worn—a red lace bra this time—before that too fell to the floor. The subtle shimmy as she slid her tight jeans over those beautiful hips. Long hair spilling over bare shoulders that would be pink and sweaty in no time at all.

  She pushed her clothes aside with her foot and waited for my next command. Still, silent, eyes down, she waited.

  I walked toward her, then around her. The slight tilt of her head shifted as I moved, subtly signaling she was tracking me, tuning all her senses to where I was, how close I was, what my next move might be.

  She gasped when I ran my fingers across the tattoo on her lower back. She’d just gotten it a few months ago, and the colors—green, blue, black, red—were still bright and sharp. It was the first of many, of that I was certain. I smiled to myself. Ah, my little pain slut.

  Trailing my fingers up her back—her beautiful, unscarred back—I grinned as goose bumps rose on her skin. I swept her hair over her shoulder and kissed the back of her neck.

  “Do you want me to flog you on your knees or the Saint Andrew’s Cross?” I whispered into her hair.

  “Whichever you prefer, Master,” she murmured.

  “Good girl.” I took my hand off her shoulder and took a step back. “Stand facing the cross.”

  She did so without hesitation. In her early days as a sub, she was apprehensive about bondage, but that apprehension was long gone. She surrendered one hand, then the other, passively allowing me to bring them up and fasten them into the leather restraints. No held breath, no straightening of her spine, no stiffness in her wrists. Nothing but total, relaxed surrender.

  Once her hands were bound, she flexed her fingers and wrists, fidgeting a little as she got comfortable.

  “Is anything too tight?” I asked.

  “No, Master.”

  I knelt beside her, running my hand down her thigh, over her knee, and along her calf. She pulled in a breath as I wound the thick leather restraint around her ankle. Holding it together, not yet buckling it, I looked up at her. She’d closed her eyes, though not tightly, and curled her fingers into loose fists. It had been a long time since she’d panicked from being bound, but I was cautious nonetheless.

  “Doing okay?”

  “Yes, Master.” The hint of a slur in her voice brought a grin to my lips. I hadn’t even brought out the flogger, and she was already slipping into the very earliest stages of subspace. The endorphins from the pain would drive her all the way there, but she’d done this so many times, her mind and body were conditioned to react just to this routine of undressing and being bound.

  Resting my hands on her hips, I dropped a light kiss on her back, just above her tattoo. She gasped. Another kiss, another gasp. I trailed featherlight kisses up the length of her spine, my own breath threatening to catch whenever hers did. By the time I reached her neck, she squirmed against her restraints, but her immobility didn’t make her panic. Good. Very good.

  I warmed her up with a soft flogger. All thud, no sting, just to get her started. When her skin had just begun to turn a faint shade of pink, I switched to her favorite flogger. This one had shorter, thinner tails than the other, and I could give her that perfect balance between thud and sting, just the way she liked it.

  I swung it in a steady figure-eight pattern, bringing the tails down on her right side, then her left, then right again. The rhythmic movements and percussive strikes mesmerized me as much as her soft moans aroused me. The first few hits made her jump a little. Something resembling a flinch, but it was merely an instinctive response. Once mind and body got used to my rhythm, she barely moved except swaying to either side as if dancing to the beat of leather on skin.

  After a few minutes, I stopped and tucked the flogger under my arm as I stepped toward her. I reached up and touched one hand, then the other. Her fingers were still warm, so her circulation was still okay.

  “How are you doing?” I asked.

  She didn’t even open her eyes. She licked her lips, then murmured, “I’m fine, Master.”

  I kissed between her shoulder blades, grinning when she shivered. “Do you want me to continue?”

  “If that’s what you want, Master.”

  “Good girl.”

  I stepped back and started again. As I flogged her, she shifted a little, and leather creaked in protest. I continued with my steady strokes; she hadn’t panicked, she was only adjusting her position as much as the bindings allowed. I watched for signs of even the slightest hesitation or an impending freak-out, but those signs didn’t come.

  There was a time when this scared her. Panic had once driven her to her knees in tears at the foot of the Saint Andrew’s Cross. With time, though, she’d faced the Cross again and overcome the claustrophobia that tried to stand between her and bliss. And now here she was.

  I stopped again, reaching up to feel her hands. Still warm. “Doing okay?”

  “Yes, Master.” Oh, I knew that voice well. On the edge, not of panic but of bliss. Just deep enough into subspace for ecstasy to take over.

  I ran my hand over her hip and between her legs, then trailed them up to her pussy, and every shallow, rapid breath she drew turned me on even more. I closed my eyes and sucked in a breath when, just as I’d suspected they would, my fingers slipped easily inside her.

  “You’re nice and wet for me, Kristen,” I whispered, sliding my fingers back out. “Does this turn you on, my little fucking slut?”

  She whimpered, squirming against me as much as her restraints would let her. “Yes, Master.”

  “As wet as you are, I don’t think it would take much at all to make you come.” I teased her clit, waiting for her to moan again before I added, “Would it?”

  “No, Master.”

  “Don’t come yet, Kristen.” I kissed her neck. “You’ll wait until I tell you, won’t you?”

  “Yes… yes, Master.”

  “Of course you will.” I slipped my fingers inside her again and kissed just behind her ear. “Your orgasms are under my control, aren’t they, my filthy fucking whore?”

  “Yes, Master, yes, I…” Her breath caught, and when she shivered, her pussy squeezed my fingers. Sucking in a breath, she squirmed as I continued teasing her. The Saint Andrew’s Cross creaked and the leather restraints protested. With every stroke of my fingers, sliding slowly in and out, her pussy grew wetter. Every time I slipped them free and teased her clit, she fell apart a little more, moaning and struggling to stay in control. I kept her going like this until she held her breath, squeezed my fingers, trembled, until she was a breath away from letting go, and there I held her, forcing her to teeter on that brink until I was damned good and ready to let her come.

  “Like that?” I growled.

  “Yes, Master.” She was breathless now, gasping and writhing with every circle I drew around her clit.

  I kissed the side of her neck and slid my fingers back inside her, pressing my palm against her clit. “Do you want me to let you come?”

  She held her breath as a tremor worked its way up her spine. When it had passed, she whispered, “Please, Master.”

  “Come, Kristen.”

  She let go of a long, spine-tingling cry. Her pussy tightened around my fingers while the rest of her body melted, and every tremor and whimper made me want to be inside her that much more.

  Soon. I’d fuck her soon enough, but we weren’t finished yet.

  I unfastened her ankles. Then I stood and, with one arm secu
rely around her waist, freed her wrist. Her arm fell to her side. When I released the other hand, I laid her arm around my shoulders and let her body sink against mine.

  “Good girl,” I whispered, stroking her hair. “You’ve done well.”

  “Thank you, Master.”

  I held her to me and kissed her. As she regained her footing, as her trembling knees steadied, she returned my kiss. I loved the way she kissed when she was in this state. Assertive, never demanding. Following my lead, but not just passively letting me have my way with her mouth without responding at all. She fucked the same way when she submitted, moving in ways that complemented—never dictated—how I moved inside her. She’d learned fast, she’d learned well, and her beautiful surrender drove me wild every damned time.

  I guided her hand to my erection, trying not to gasp at the warmth of her palm through thick denim. Her fingers twitched, probably struggling to resist the temptation to give a playful squeeze. She wouldn’t, though. She didn’t have permission.

  I slid one hand up her back and into her hair. She gasped, not quite breaking the kiss, when my fingers tangled in her hair. She knew what was coming.

  But a Dom is nothing if not a tease, and when I loosened my grasp, she sucked in a breath that was made of frustration. After a moment, I tightened my fingers, grinning when her breath caught and her spine straightened. Then I loosened my grasp again.

  She couldn’t hide her frustration. It revealed itself in the creases between her eyebrows and the way her lips tightened into a thin, bleached line.

  Frustrated, yes, but not defiant. Perfect.

  I gripped her hair and twisted it, forcing her to her knees at my feet. She gasped, then moaned.

  “Do you want to suck my cock, Kristen?” I growled.

  She licked her lips. “If that’s what you want, Master.”

  Oh, you’re damn right it is.

  “Good girl,” I breathed.

  Still holding her hair on my other hand, I unzipped my jeans with the other. She watched intently, wetting her lips and barely breathing while I stroked myself just a few inches from her face. Though she licked her lips again, she didn’t move. She knew better. If she closed the distance between her mouth and my cock by even a fraction of an inch, I’d deny her, a lesson she’d long ago learned.

  I loosened my grip. She still didn’t move.

  “Good girl,” I whispered, and when she looked up at me, she smiled. I smiled back, inclining my head in the slightest parody of a nod.

  I curled my fingers against the back of her head and nudged her forward. She didn’t hesitate, taking my cock into her mouth eagerly, hungrily, obediently. I still held her hair, though not as tightly; enough to feel every motion, not enough to interfere unless I wanted to, which I most certainly did not.

  “Use your hands,” I said.

  That was the command she’d been waiting for, of that I had no doubt, and as soon as I gave the order, both hands were on my cock. Squeezing, stroking, adding just enough of a twist to make my knees shake. A shiver ran down my spine, leaving goose bumps in its wake.

  “Yes, that’s a good girl, just like that,” I breathed. My balance wavered. With my free hand, I grabbed the Saint Andrew’s Cross for balance, struggling to stay on my feet as she fucked me with her mouth. “That’s it, baby, make me come.” As soon as the words were off my tongue, she doubled her efforts, just as I knew she would, and I closed my eyes.

  God, yes. I couldn’t help moving my hips in time with her movement. Couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t fucking wait.

  I held the Cross and her hair tighter, and with a deep groan, I came. She kept right on going until I couldn’t take anymore and whispered for her to stop. When she did, I took a few breaths, giving the world a moment to right itself.

  Then I looked down at her and, trying not to slur, said, “Stand up.” When she rose, I put my arms around her and kissed her. “Your mouth is, as always, fucking amazing.”

  “Thank you, Master.”

  I kissed her again. “No, thank you.” I ran my fingers through her hair. “I’m not your Master anymore tonight.”

  She let out a breath, rolling her shoulders as if to relieve some tension.

  “Water?” I asked.

  “Yes, please.”

  I handed her one of the bottles I’d brought in before she arrived and took the other for myself.

  After we’d both drunk a little and caught our breath, I said, “Come on, let’s go in the bedroom and get some lotion on your back.”

  I led her into the bedroom. Once we’d kicked Malia out and closed the door, Kristen got into bed, lying facedown with her arms folded beneath the pillow. I pulled the covers up to her waist and sat beside her with a bottle of lotion. Before putting any lotion on her, I did a quick check for cuts. I hadn’t used a terribly brutal flogger tonight, but I checked anyway out of habit.

  There wasn’t a cut to be found, so I poured some lotion into my hand. She groaned softly as I smoothed it on to her shoulders, up and down her back, anywhere the tails had colored her skin. For the longest time, neither of us spoke. Sometimes she fell asleep while I rubbed her back after a flogging, sometimes she just closed her eyes and enjoyed it.

  Evidently she hadn’t fallen asleep, because after a while, she said, “You never did tell me what happened to your face.”

  Without thinking, I reached up and brushed my fingertips across the bridge of my nose. It wasn’t terribly painful anymore, just slightly swollen and a little bruised.

  “Nothing serious. I just put my face where someone else was trying to put her elbow.” I chuckled in spite of the memory.

  “Looks like she tried to put it there with quite a bit of force.” She grinned over her shoulder. “Or you were trying to put your face there with a lot of force.”

  “Very funny.” I shot her a playful glare. “No, it was just one of those clumsy moments that would have won us some money had we caught it on tape.”

  “Pity you didn’t have a camera, then.”

  I laughed, pretending not to feel the chill crawling up my spine. “Yeah, that could have been… interesting.”

  “I’m sure.” She was quiet for a moment. “Oh, I meant to ask. What happened with Meredith the other night?”

  I sighed. “I can’t really discuss everything, but it involves her ex-husband.”

  “Probably a good thing he’s now an ex, then?”

  “Yeah. It’s a long story, though.” A long, twisted, fucked up story.

  “Is she okay?”

  “She’s all right,” I said quietly. “But she wants me to be her Dom.”

  “Really? I didn’t realize she was into kink.”

  “She’s had… some experience.” If you could call it that.

  “So you’re showing another newbie the ropes, as it were?”

  “You could say that.” I exhaled. “And now we have this sort of complicated sex-but-not-a-relationship relationship.”

  Kristen looked over her shoulder at me. “Need I remind you how well that worked when we did it?” She paused, then quickly added, “Keeping it to friends with benefits, I mean. I’m certainly not complaining about how it worked out.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that.” I chuckled, but then turned serious again. “You and I didn’t have the history I have with her, though.”

  “Do you still love her?”

  My hand stopped in the middle of her back. Of all the questions I’d eluded since Meredith called me that first night, I’d avoided that one in particular like the plague. Did I still love her? Not just as a friend, but as something more?

  “Scott?”

  I shrugged and started rubbing Kristen’s back again. “I don’t know what I feel for her anymore, to be honest. Right now, I just need to help her sort out some shit in her world.”

  “Are you sure you won’t get emotionally tangled up with her?” She glanced at me. “I’m not trying to pry, you know that, I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.
”

  I swallowed hard. Kristen had been there when Meredith and I broke up. Yeah, we’d stayed friends, but it was hard, and Kristen knew as well as anyone how much it hurt me.

  “I’ll be okay, babe.”

  “You sure?”

  No. “I’ll be fine.” I watched my fingers draw slow, gentle circles on her shoulders. “What this does mean, though, is that it’s going to be taking up a lot of my time and energy for a while.” I trailed my fingers down the middle of her back. “Are you okay with that? I mean—”

  “Scott, if she needs you, of course I’m okay with it.” She rolled on to her side and looked up at me. “If it’s as bad as it sounds, I’d honestly be questioning what kind of guy you were if you didn’t help her. I’m not about to get all possessive.”

  I smiled. “Thanks for understanding. And I’ll still be around. I promise we’ll still spend time together.”

  “We’d better.”

  A startled cough of laughter burst out of me. “Oh, really?”

  “Yes. Or I might hurt Matt. And you, when you do come around.”

  “Hmm, that doesn’t sound too bad, actually.”

  “Oh, shut up.” She grabbed my shirt and hauled me down to kiss her.

  I pulled back, grasping her jaw in one hand. “Do I need to put my sub back in her place now?”

  She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Shut up and fuck me, Scott.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Okay, okay.” She took a deep breath, putting on her most sarcastically repentant expression. “Shut up and fuck me, Master.”

  “Mouthy wench,” I growled, leaning down to kiss her again.

  “What ever will you do with me?”

  “Normally I’d punish you and make you beg,” I whispered. “But since I already told you I’m not your Master anymore tonight, and, well…” I pressed my hard-on against her hip. “I think I’ll just shut up and fuck you.”