Lock & Key Collection

by Rebel Rose

  “Oh fuck.”

  A bigger drop of pre-cum drips from the tip, and again she licks it from my shaft, this time showing it to me before closing her mouth and swallowing.

  I can’t stand the teasing anymore, and I push my hand into the back of her hair, fisting it. “Take my cock, mon bien-aimé. I need to feel your warm, wet mouth.”

  She opens and slides her mouth over the crown and down my length until it hits the back of her throat. And fuck, she swallows around the tip. “Baby, you’re so good at that.”

  Her head bobs up and down, slurping loudly, but it’s not enough. The Dom inside me has been holding back the last four weeks so I could avoid giving her too many keys, too quickly. I’ve neglected his needs for too long.

  I need more.

  I tighten my grip on her hair and thrust my hips while using my hold to set the pace. And my girl takes my cock in and out of her mouth like none other ever has. Everything that we do together is in perfect synchronization.

  I massage the back of her head, my way of praising her for a job well done. “You look so fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth.”

  Those eyes look up at me again, and fuck, her expression is nearly my undoing. And I’m not ready for this to end.

  “Up, mon bien-aimé. I don’t want to come in your mouth.” With my assistance, she rises to her feet, using my grip for balance. “Feel all right?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Call me Mr. Broussard… Mrs. Broussard.”

  Her lazy eyes widen. “I’m Mrs. Broussard again?”

  I hold her hips and guide her to the bed, forcing her to sit and lie on her back. “Yes, and Mr. Broussard has missed his wife’s pussy.”

  I lift her legs, placing them on my shoulders, and press my weight against the backs of them. Her body is folded in half when my cock meets her entrance and the gasp that she releases on the first thrust makes my cock swell with pride.

  “Oh God, Mr. Broussard,” she cries out. “You feel so deep like this.”

  I’m buried balls deep inside her tight pussy, and I savor the feel for one, two, three seconds before pulling back and driving my cock right back inside. Over and over and over.

  Fuck, she feels good. Better than good.

  Perfect. She feels perfect.

  She gives me pleasure in a way I’ve never known. But the pleasure doesn’t come only from her body surrounding mine. It’s her smile, her laugh, her goodness.

  She is light. I am dark. And she illuminates my gloomy, sunless world.

  I pump in and out of her, my balls slapping against her ass. The slapping sound competes with the wet suction sound of my cock moving in and out of her drenched pussy.

  “I want your cum deep inside me, Mr. Broussard.”

  Fuck, I want my cum deep inside her too, but she doesn’t understand what it is that she’s asking for. And that’s my fucking fault.

  I’m close. So fucking close and I have to decide what I’ll do.

  I lower her legs from my shoulders, preparing to pull out right before I come, and her legs wrap around me like steel tentacles, pulling me close. “Give it to me, Mr. Broussard. All of it.”

  “Baby, I’m going to come on your stomach.”

  “No, Mr. Broussard. I want it.” She locks her feet behind my back and hangs on for dear life. “And you’re going to give it to me.”

  I try to pull out but the first jet of cum spurts inside her. And then the second. And third.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  We stare at one other, and an aching need forms inside me. The feeling is unlike the sexual appetite pulsating through my body and cock. It’s a complicated desire that blankets my obsessive craving for Emma Lia.

  “Tell me that you love me.” I need this from her more than I need air in my lungs.

  “I love you, Mr. Broussard.” She doesn’t hesitate, and the smile that accompanies her words is as sweet as an angel’s.

  Fuck. My chest constricts, the ache intensifying rather than easing. Because I know behind my chest wall within my heart that I have betrayed her, and I must confess my sin against her.

  My body trembles from the intensity of my orgasm, but also from the fear. Fear that I’m going to lose her. Fear that she’s going to leave me when she learns the truth.

  Hope is a companion to my fear. Hope that she will forgive me. Hope that she will not lose her faith in me. Hope that she will still love me.

  “I love you, mon bien-aimé.”

  Sex, punishments, and obedience are what held me to my former subs. But not Emma Lia. It’s her beautiful surrender, our love and devotion to one another, and the pure, naked truth of showing each other who we truly are.

  She gives me more than her body. She gives me her trust. And I have betrayed that trust because my love for her didn’t recognize boundaries.

  Her breath becomes steady, and I’m afraid that she is on the verge of falling asleep. And I need her to stay awake. “Mon bien-aimé.”

  “Um-hum?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  She sighs. “All right.”

  “Do you plan to marry one day?”

  “Yes. I would like to.”

  “What kind of man do you see yourself marrying?”

  She toys with the back of my hair. “A handsome Creole Dom with olive skin and the most beautiful blue eyes that I’ve ever seen. One who fucks me hard but also loves me gently.”

  Is she serious? Or running off at the mouth because she’s drunk? I can’t tell.

  “And babies? Do you want those?”

  “I want to have his little Creole babies. And I want him to teach them Cajun-French, and I want to live happily ever after with my little Creole family.”

  In the event that the alcohol is forcing her to tell me her true feelings, I need to push farther.

  “How soon do you see yourself marrying this Creole Dom?”

  “I would marry him now.”

  “That soon, eh?”

  Her legs tighten around my waist and her arms squeeze my upper body. “Mmm… yes. I love him.”

  “Would you be angry if his little Creole baby was inside you right now?”

  “No.”

  “Would you be happy?”

  “Yes. I love babies. And I would love his beyond reason.”

  Her words give me hope.

  Emma Lia is tipsy, well, a little more than tipsy, but I’m hopeful that what she’s telling me tonight holds some truth of what she will feel when I tell her what I did.

  36

  Emma Lia Grant

  My head is pounding like crazy. I should have known better than to drink that many glasses of wine. It always makes my head throb the next day.

  “How does my beloved feel this morning?”

  “Uhh…” I pull my pillow over my face to block the sunlight. “Terrible.”

  “Headache?”

  “God, yes. It’s awful.”

  “I figured as much. That’s why I brought you some pain relievers.”

  That’s my Dom. Always taking care of me and seeing to my needs.

  I rise and take the pills from his hand, swallowing them one at a time with the water he also brought to me. After the pills are down, I gulp half of the bottle; I feel so parched.

  “People who don’t know about the lifestyle don’t see or understand this aspect of a Dom-sub relationship.” I know that I didn’t see it or know anything about it prior to Tristan. “They think it’s all about kinky sex and abuse, but you take your role as my protector seriously. You take really good care of me, Tristan, and it’s only one of the reasons that I love you the way I do.”

  “It’s my job to protect you, but I also do it because I cherish you. You are my treasure.”

  Tristan places the box of keys on the bed beside me. “And speaking of treasure. You’re behind on pulling your keys. I owe you nine.”

  Neither of us has been diligent about pulling the keys from the box. When I star
ted having feelings for Tristan, I began coming up with excuses for why I should pull my key later. He did the same thing, always suggesting that I pull the key the next day and then conveniently forgetting to bring it up again. But now, I want to pull my keys. I want to put this debt behind me so he can truly see that I am choosing to be here for him.

  I reach into the box and grab a handful, placing nine keys on the bed. “Today, we shall put this debt to rest. I can feel it.”

  “I think so, too.”

  One, two, three. The first three are nonworking. And then it happens. The turn of number four opens the padlock.

  “Well, well, well. It only took four months for that to happen.” And it’s such a burden lifted from my shoulders. We can move forward without that hanging over our heads.

  “Four months and how many keys did we go through?” he asks.

  I’ve kept up with every one of the key pulls. In the beginning, it was so I could run stats in my head to calculate how close I was to freedom, but as our relationship adapted, so did my reason for keeping up with the stats. “This key is number seventy-six. Which is really pretty funny since we’ve probably had sex two hundred and seventy-six times.”

  “Seventy-six or a thousand and seventy-six. No matter the number, it’ll never be enough for me.”

  That ain’t no lie. This man loves to fuck. But what man doesn’t?

  “We’d celebrate and do it once more if I didn’t feel like my head was going to blow off of my shoulders.”

  He rubs his hand up and down my arm. “We’ll celebrate when you feel better, baby.”

  “I hope that’s soon because Michaela’s birthday party is this afternoon. I have to go early and help Adam get everything ready. Which really means go early and do everything for him.”

  Adam is a great dad, but he’s still such a man. The party would suck if he was left in charge.

  “Michaela’s mother won’t be there to help?”

  “God, no. That would be a disaster.”

  “You’ve never said anything about her.”

  “Not much to say about Robin except she likes meth more than she likes her kid.”

  “She’s not in Michaela’s life?”

  “She was until Adam caught her driving around high on meth while she had Michaela in the car. Adam was going to take her to court to sue for full custody but she gave up her parental rights without a fight. She never wanted Michaela anyway. She saw her as an inconvenience getting in the way of her partying.”

  I get so damn mad every time I think about Robin and the way she has treated Michaela. Mostly because it’s the same way that our mother treated Adam and me. Both mothers chose their own happiness over their children’s. But what makes it even worse is that Michaela could have had a seizure while Robin was high. That sweet baby could have died because Robin might not have been able to help her.

  “I don’t understand how a mother does that—how she doesn’t want her baby or care enough to keep her safe. I’m not a mom, but I know without a doubt that I would be willing to lay down my own life for my child. Just like Adam with Michaela, I would do anything for my baby.”

  Tristan, fully dressed, gets into bed beside me. “Do you remember our talk last night?”

  “Most of it. I think.” I was fairly hammered.

  “You told me that you’d marry me.”

  I could have drunk ten bottles of wine, and I wouldn’t forget talking about that. “I remember.”

  “And you also told me that you’d be happy to have my baby.”

  Shit. Where is this conversation going? “I remember that, too.”

  “Is that how you feel today after having time to sober up?”

  Drunk or not, those feelings will never change. “I love you, Tristan. I would marry you and happily give you children if it’s what you wanted.”

  “Just like that? You don’t even need to think about it?”

  “I’ve given it plenty of thought already and I’ve decided. I am yours and you are mine.”

  I was with other men prior to Tristan, and I’m certain of what I want. He is it for me. It isn’t possible for me to be with another man after him. To me, they would all seem like watered-down versions of what a man should be.

  “You know what a selfish bastard I can be. I want my way, and I do whatever it takes to get it. I do bend for you, but I’m not going to change entirely. I am what I am. Can you live with me being that way?”

  Tristan has shown me exactly who he is. I’ve seen his ruthlessness, how callous he can be at times, and certainly how selfish. But I’ve also seen him abandon his most absolute rules and surrender to the love he feels for me. He isn’t perfect, but he’s all I want.

  “It sounds like you’re trying to convince me that I shouldn’t want to marry you.”

  “Absolutely not but bending for you is still new to me. I sometimes forget to take what you want into account because I’m so used to living just for me and my own desires. I still find myself making decisions based upon what I want and not we want.”

  “You’ve lived like that for thirty-six years. I don’t expect you to change overnight, but I do expect you to not make life-altering decisions without my input. You know this.”

  “But what if I slipped and did it again?”

  One doesn’t simply slip and make an important decision without thought. “I’d be very upset with you.”

  “But you could forgive me? Especially if I’d learned my lesson and seen the error of my ways?”

  I don’t like the way this conversation is going. “Maybe. I guess it would depend on what you did.”

  “What if it were really important? Like big-time life-changing important?”

  “I’d need you to be more specific before I answer that.”

  “I’ve done something, mon bien-aimé. And I’m afraid. I’m terrified that you’re going to hate me.”

  My heart takes off in a rapid gallop. “You’re scaring me, Tristan.”

  He turns to lie on his back, placing his arm over his face. “It’s bad, mon bien-aimé. And I don’t know how you’re going to react.”

  He is scaring the shit out of me.

  I crawl over him, pushing his arms above his head, restraining them with my hands wrapped around his wrists, the same way he pins me down sometimes. “Tristan Broussard. Tell me now what you have done.”

  “I love you, Emma Lia, and anything that I’ve done has been because of my love for you. Please don’t forget that as you hear me out.”

  A million different things are racing through my mind at once. I have no idea what he could have possibly done. “All right.”

  “It happened about a month ago, when my father attacked you and Conrad told me the truth about my parents. You remember that I was in a bad place that night.”

  “You were, but you handled it remarkably well for the news that you’d just gotten.” The sadist inside of him didn’t even need to hurt me to cope with what he was feeling. It was as though there was a flip of a switch in him that night.

  “I handled it well because of you and our relationship. That’s where I gathered the strength I needed to get through that shit. Although you were unaware at the time, I already knew how much I loved and needed you in my life. The thought of losing you terrified me.”

  I release his wrists and move my hands to cradle his face. “You aren’t going to lose me, Tristan.”

  He places one of his hands on top of mine and turns his face to kiss my palm. “Things were different between us then. We weren’t in the place we are today. You were still pulling keys. There hadn’t been any talk of your staying. I thought that you were going to walk out of my life at any time. And I couldn’t let that happen.”

  “How were you planning to stop me if I tried?”

  “That night, I bound you to the bed with the intention of fucking my pain away. But then I looked at you, and all I could picture was what my life would look like if you left me. And I hated what I saw. So right then and there, i
n my desperation to hold on to you and what we have together, I made a decision to do whatever it took to keep you. And that’s when I pushed my fingers inside you… and felt for the string of your IUD… and gripped it between my fingers… and pulled it out.”

  I release my hold on his face and sit back, still straddling him, and my brain absorbs the words that he’s just told me.

  I reel my mind back in time and recall that night. He was going to do sinister things to me; that’s what he needed in the moment. I saw the raw urgency in his eyes, and I longed to be his relief. I wanted to give him the world, to hell with what it meant for me. Pain. Agony. Torment. I was willing to endure anything for him.

  My legs were bound and parted wide by the spreader bar. He pushed them up and went down on me. He licked me and played with my pussy, using his tongue and fingers. He finger fucked me. It felt different, and I recall thinking so at the time, but that’s all of the thought I put into it. Because he released me and we made love. We made love over and over throughout the night and the next morning.

  He came inside me after the IUD was out.

  And he has continued to come inside me since that night. Without birth control. For over a month.

  Tristan has been trying to get me pregnant?

  He places his hands on the outer edge of my thighs. “Say something, mon bien-aimé.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Because I’m so shocked. Because I’m so numb inside.

  “I’ve betrayed your trust and made a decision about your life without your input—all for my own selfish desires.”

  This is Tristan Broussard, the control freak. The man who was so determined to prevent a pregnancy that he had an OB-GYN place a birth control device inside me while I was unconscious.

  And now he’s gone and removed it without telling me.

  “It was wrong, and I know that, but I did it because I love you so much.” He squeezes my thighs. “Please tell me that you see that.”

  “All I’m able to see right now is deception. And you can’t disguise that by calling it love. You are my Dom—the one person on this earth that I should be able to place every bit of my trust in and you’ve deceived me. You’ve broken one of our most absolute promises to one another.”