“Come back to me. Still on your hands and knees, moving backwards. When you get here, I want you to stand between my legs and face the mirror.”
She’d stopped thinking. It was all feeling now. Heated, needy feeling, an ache in her chest, her lower belly. When she reached him again, she rose, keeping her back to him as he’d required. He gripped her thighs, let his palms glide up her body, caressing her hip with one then sliding across it to between her thighs, making her moan, her body sway, as she watched him do it in the mirror. He steadied her with the other hand on her hip as he worked her clit between his knuckles, stroked her labia with clever fingers, dipped them into her pussy. Her nipples were a dark color, so tight and aroused, her breasts like ripe, full fruit. When he slid both hands up to cradle them, pressing his mouth to her lower back, she whispered his name.
“Master.”
His touch dropped back to her hips, and then he was lowering her to his lap. “Keep your thighs together.”
He speared the tight opening with the skill of a man who knew a woman’s most intimate places . . . pussy, ass, heart. She was being maudlin, but that didn’t mean she was wrong. He stretched her, brought her all the way down onto him, pushing her upper body forward so her nipples brushed her knees. He shifted her as he went, achieving a full and deep penetration. She was folded over an ache growing in her lower belly and chest, at odds with the pleasure she was experiencing. He wound his hands in her hair, gathering it to him, his knuckles grazing her cheek, and then he bent, brushing his lips over the tender protruding bones of her spine. Her heart cracked.
“Shh. You’re a treasure, girl. Be with me. All the way with me.”
“I am, Master.” Her voice broke. “Please, may I touch you? Please.” She thought she might die without that contact.
“Yes.”
She put her shaking hands on his knees, fingers curving into them, noting that there were some different protrusions in the left one, as if the knee had suffered some damage as well. But she tilted her head toward it, brushed it with her lips, her inner muscles clenching on the length of his cock as she did it. She was simply lost, but in a way hard to define as good or bad. It was all inside his sphere of influence, so she wasn’t really lost at all. Just completely out of control, possibly for the first time in her life, relying fully on another to bring her back home.
His fingers tightened in her hair, then he let it go to slide his hands back down to her hips. “Hold on to my legs, Athena. You’re going to need the anchor.”
He began to thrust. Holding her close this way made his strokes short, intense. With her legs pressed together, it catapulted her reaction to an explosive level in a matter of seconds. But at this angle, the climax so perilously close was not close enough. Just close enough to have her screaming at every stroke.
He kept going, showing admirable control, while she was clawing his legs with no restraint at all. With each full penetration, she pressed the soles of her feet into the floor, her inner muscles squeezing him like a vise. His breathing was harsh, and several times she heard a muttered, reverent curse, which just took her higher.
When he brought them to a halt, she almost wailed, even knowing she wasn’t going to get a climax until he was damn good and ready. Using those impressive biceps and stomach muscles, he lay back on the bed, unfolding and taking her with him, shifting her body to adjust to the new angle. He was stretched out with her face up on top of him, back to his front, his foot braced on the floor to anchor them. She kept her thighs tightly closed at his brusque command, the balls of her feet barely reaching the floor between his. The position pushed him up high and tight inside of her. One hand went to her throat, the other to her clit, and his hips pumped up against her, slow, torturous, careful movements for them both. Too wide a range would break the connection. But the moment he started rubbing her clit, things started to unravel.
“Master . . . please . . . may I . . .”
“Yes. Come for me, Athena. Let me hear it.”
Because she couldn’t move much in this position, the waves kept coming, higher and more intense, so she was crying out in prolonged agony, one of the most extreme climaxes of her life. He released when she was at the height of it, and drove her even higher, his powerful body shuddering beneath her, every muscle going hard to match the rigidity of his cock, so deep inside her.
She was a shaking mess in his arms. When he eased her off him, he shifted them both so they were together on the mattress, his head on his pillow and her turned toward him, cradled in his arms. Her muscles had no strength to help him at all. He was stroking her hair, murmuring to her.
“Shh, girl. It’s okay. Easy, love.”
She kept jerking a little bit now and then, a combination of aftershocks and nerves. He slid his hands over her, slow, easy strokes, cupping her bottom, teasing the side of her breast with his knuckles, massaging the nape of her neck, pressing kisses to the top of her head. Her nose was running and he had a box of tissues by the bed, but her limbs were too numb to reach for one. Since she hadn’t lost enough of her sense of decorum to use his flesh as a handkerchief, she kept sniffling.
He rolled against her so she was squashed with wonderful pressure between him and the mattress. It was a brief moment, allowing him to reach over the side of the bed to the floor. When he caressed her cheek with a soft cloth, an unexpected sob choked her. It was his T-shirt. She pressed her face against it and him, letting the shirt absorb her physical reaction and his chest hide the emotional one.
At length he spoke, with tender amusement. “So, was it good for you?”
She must be on the edge of hysteria, because she started laughing. It was a painful transition, like trying to run after drinking a full glass of water, but he held her tighter, so that whatever was trying to tear her apart, laughter or tears, wouldn’t gain the upper hand.
“It’s all right, girl. It’s all right. Shh.”
“Yes,” she managed at last. “Quite satisfactory.” Her words were slurred, like she was drunk, but she fought to get them out. “We should do it again in a month or so, when I’ve had a chance to recover.”
His chuckle was a soothing balm. “I’m going to want you again, far sooner than that. You’re going to have to build up some stamina.”
“You’re going to kill me.”
“No. I promise I won’t do that.” Another kiss on her forehead, this one lingering. When he lifted his head, she tilted her chin to find him studying her with an unfathomable look, one that went on for some moments as he slid his fingers along her lips, her cheeks, her wet lashes.
“What?” she whispered.
“I was thinking of a song. It’s one the kids play at the community center. I don’t pay much attention to it usually, but I’ve caught the chorus a few times. ‘You must be the reason I’m alive.’ The way you looked at my leg, what you said . . .” He shook his head, tightened his arms around her, pushed her head back to his chest. “It was good for me, too. Athena. Better than anything I’ve felt in a long time. Thank you.”
—
They dozed for a while. At some point Athena realized her two-hour lunch was going to run way over. She didn’t have any appointments this afternoon, but she still needed to let Ellen know she hadn’t disappeared off the planet. Well, in a way she had, but she didn’t want Ellen thinking she’d been kidnapped, since she was obsessively punctual.
She was sprawled over Dale’s chest, and when she began to move, his arms tightened around her, his grunt telling her what he thought of her leaving. She whispered she’d be right back, that she needed the bathroom, and those blue-green eyes appeared, lingering on her in a way that warmed her to her toes.
“Don’t be long.”
She fished her phone out of her purse, then slipped into the bathroom. When she sent Ellen the quick text, letting her know she’d decided to take the rest of the day, the response was instant an
d brought a smile to her face.
Understood, Mrs. Summers. (you go, girl!)
Shaking her head at her assistant, she set the phone aside and took care of some necessities, including using Dale’s brush to comb her hair and his washcloth to clean up her face. His medicine cabinet was typically male. Shaving gear, toothpaste. A couple of prescription meds, including an antibiotic and a painkiller. She assumed the first was for his leg and guessed the latter dealt with days where joint pain might be an issue, though the man gave the impression he was all but invincible. They’d last been refilled about six months ago, so he wasn’t regularly taking either one.
Thinking about that, she left the bathroom. When she crawled back on the bed next to him, she folded her legs under her and looked at the truncated limb, those sores at the surgical site.
“Was that why you cancelled our lunch date?” she asked. Though his eyes were closed, she knew he was awake and aware of what she was doing. A man didn’t keep a knife like that behind his mattress and sleep deeply. Her gaze touched it briefly, still tangled with her ruined panties.
“Yeah. It was stupid. I’m sorry.” His eyes opened then, his hand reaching across the mattress to clasp hers, a loose hold.
She shook her head. “We’re still getting to know one another, Dale. Crazy as that sounds. So did we overdo the other day, when we were at my place? Is that what caused them?”
“Yeah. That and taking care of the dogs that same day. I just didn’t do some of the things for it I’m supposed to do. It happens every once in a while.” Then he got that warning look. “Remember what I said. You’re not my nurse, Athena. Don’t go there.”
“No, I’m not. But I am your submissive. At least as long as you want our sessions to continue.”
“These aren’t sessions, Athena.” He reached up, caught her chin in thumb and forefinger. “Did you call them that because you didn’t want to make me feel boxed in, or because you believe that’s what they are?”
“You really don’t leave a girl anywhere to hide, do you?”
“Not my job.” His gaze held hers. “Athena.”
“No. I don’t feel like they’re sessions.” She put her hand over his, and he shifted it to take a grip on her fingers as they came to a tangled rest together on her knees. “But I’m afraid to assume too much, too soon. I don’t know you well enough and . . . these feelings are pretty new to me. I’m not sure of myself, either.”
He nodded. “It’s one of the reasons I’m keeping a tight rein on things. You realize that, right? For now, my job is taking care of you. Period.”
The words made her feel so strange. She had to breathe in and out a few times before the vise around her chest loosened. “I think I understand that. But I want to serve you as well. It’s different from taking care of you, isn’t it, even if they look a lot the same?”
“Yeah, it is different, but my understanding of that isn’t the concern. No matter what you say, I don’t think you’re far enough away from the nurse side of it that you recognize the difference.”
She could have been insulted by the comment, but he didn’t sound patronizing. He was stating flatly what he’d observed, and could she really argue with it? As she’d just said, she was dealing with so many new feelings when it came to this. Yet she couldn’t help but wonder if his judgment on her was affected by his own situation. He’d obviously dealt with the painful memories and emotions associated with his injury, accepted his situation and refused to call it a handicap, but he was a proud man who would have no patience with any kind of limitations.
She didn’t want to get into another argument today, so she tried to explain it a different way. “When I saw you with Willow, I wasn’t sure what kind of Master you were. Since Jimmy said you worked with a variety of submissives, at different levels, I figured you like the challenge of determining what each woman wants, what type of submission she needs. Like you told me, the intense attention to detail, the in-depth understanding that requires . . . each one was a mission, even if that mission extended over a few sessions or only one.”
She took a deep breath. Did he know how intimidating his silence could be, especially combined with the piercing regard of those eyes? “But what I wondered was what kind of Master you truly are, at the core. What you want for yourself. If you had a permanent submissive, what would she provide for you? Just now, I thought I felt it. You wanted everything. You were reaching down into my soul and I could actually feel your hand closing around it. It was frightening, and overwhelming.”
She met his gaze. “Submission, service, was so important to me, the gift I needed to give to the man I loved, to the extent that I became a Mistress to him. No half measures, like you said. In every way he needed, I became that for him. It seems . . . we may be a yin and yang to one another, but whether it’s a good mix, or a self-destructive one, I don’t know. But I do know it makes me want to say everything and anything to you. Be everything to you. No, I’m not your nurse or maid. But I can be far more than that, all that and anything more. And I think that’s what you want. Eventually.”
If you learn to trust me, and I learn to trust myself.
She didn’t add that, thinking it might be too argumentative. She’d said her peace, probably more than she should have at this juncture. She looked down at their clasped hands, waiting on him. At length, he shifted onto his elbows, reached up and touched her face with the other hand. “Maybe.” He sighed. “You’re the first woman I’ve let cross this line with me, Athena.”
The revelation amazed, thrilled and slightly terrified her, but he shook his head, telling her he wanted her to keep silent until he finished. “You said it. You have such a deep well when it comes to this that you became a Mistress to your husband, because that was what he needed. It makes you a superlative sub, but you crossed the line into a place you didn’t really belong, that didn’t meet your heart’s desire. And if he’s as good a man as I suspect he was to deserve someone like you, he probably saw it at some point, even if he didn’t completely get what you were.”
Demand as much for yourself.
Her hand tightened on Dale’s. They were Roy’s words, from a fairly significant moment in the life they’d shared. As if summoned by Dale’s comments, the memory attached to them returned as well.
Roy had been pretty sick at that point, and it was one of his bedridden days. She’d brought him a mostly liquid lunch he’d barely touched. She’d thought he was dozing, but then his hand twitched under the light grasp of hers and his gaze turned to her, holding the sorrowful knowledge that their time was getting shorter.
I was able to be everything I am with you, Athena. Man, boy, happy, sad, hero, bastard. Roy had smiled a bit at that. You took me over when I needed to give up the reins, and handed them back at the right moments. You knew me, down to my soul, and you gave me everything. I hope . . . You deserve better than that. It should be a pane of glass, not a mirror. Love is about seeing one another clearly through everything and accepting each other. What you gave me, you should have the chance to have that, too. It’s not a closed circle unless you can give as much as you’re given. I wish I’d been able to do that for you. But you make me a promise. If the opportunity presents itself, do what I know is so damn hard for you to do. Demand as much for yourself. Demand to be given as much as you’re willing to give.
He’d been on some strong painkillers, so she could tell he’d struggled with what he was trying to say. She hadn’t really understood what he was saying then, any more than she completely understood Dale’s point now, but both sets of words resonated with her.
“A Master is about more than demanding every corner of a sub’s soul,” Dale said gently. “He needs to be about protecting that soul as well.”
“So I can’t help with this.” She touched his leg, feeling strangely desolate.
“Maybe one day. But not now. I take care of that part of things myself. That’s
part of who I am, who I need to be. But anytime you want to bring me food, you can knock yourself out.”
She smiled uncertainly as he lifted her fingers to his lips, kissed them. Then he squeezed her hand and winked, dispelling the somber mood. “Let’s eat that lunch. Fucking you has given me a hell of an appetite.”
—
She’d never thought of herself as the type of woman who’d respond to crude talk like that, but the way he said it, so sexy and male, his hot gaze sweeping over her, put her already broken antenna into another spin. He didn’t let her put on any clothes. Instead, he had her bring the lunch back to the bed and ate naked with her, feeding her bits of sandwich, reaching out to touch her breasts or telling her to keep her legs open so he could see her pussy as he consumed the food she’d made him. He kept that Master-sub dynamic so out front and center between them, such that the unsettling topics he’d raised were beyond her concentration. As a result, she was able to quell the uneasy sense of paradigm shift and just enjoy being with him. She’d deal with the rest on her own time.
He’d told her he expected her to build up her stamina, that he’d want her again. It didn’t take long for him to prove it. After lunch, he pushed her to her back without preamble and stretched out between her legs. With his strong hands curled around her thighs and one foot braced on the floor, he put his mouth on her cunt and brought her to the brink of another pleading, writhing climax in no time. When she was so close to release the heat of his breath on her quivering tissues might have pushed her over, he rolled over onto his back and made her turn so she straddled his face, her knees pressed into the bedding above his shoulders. He ordered her to take his cock in her mouth while he resumed feasting on her pussy. The command to come came with her lips stretched over him, vibrating against his cock as she screamed. She shuddered through the aftershocks while still frenetically sucking him. He kept licking and teasing her well past her climax, not stopping until she brought him to release as well.
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