by Chloe Cox
“Good,” he said finally. “This arrangement is based on honesty. No more hiding. No more pretending. I ask you a question and you answer it to the best of your abilities. I will do the same. Understood?”
Olivia took a big breath again, her fingers slipping between the buttons of his shirt to find bare skin. Forward. He made a note of it, for later.
“Yes,” she said.
“Tell me again what you want.”
Suddenly she looked up at him, eyes big and clear.
“I want to be your sub,” she said.
The emphasis on your.
Gavin sucked air in through his teeth and dug his fingers into her flesh for just a moment before he reined it in. Almost there.
“That frightens you,” he said.
Olivia nodded.
“Eventually you’re going to tell me why,” he said, stroking the bare skin of her leg with his thumb. “But not today.”
She sighed softly into his chest and he felt the last little bit of tension left inside her unfurl and throw him off balance. Throw him way the fuck off balance. Because there was something happening, this felt different. Gavin hadn’t had to fight to keep from losing himself in topspace in years. No one had been able to do that for him in a long time. And he’d been happy about that, because it meant he was always watching. Always vigilant.
Never trust them to use them…
“But you’re not done yet,” he said.
Thank God.
That had been one of the most internally violent orgasms of Olivia’s life, and she was pretty sure parts of her mind were still scattered about the room somewhere, but she would have been deeply saddened to think that they were done. Or that she was done.
Because all she could think about, nestled against the hard warmth of Gavin’s chest, was the hard warmth of his cock. She could feel it against her thigh. It was making her crazy. Because she was somewhat scared about what was going to happen next, but not by any of the physical stuff—she couldn’t wait to lose herself in the physical sensation of whatever Gavin was about to do to her.
But somehow she didn’t think that was going to be enough for him.
“Your heart rate has returned to normal,” he said, his hand running up her hip, her arm, all the way to the back of her neck. He kissed her on the top of the head. “Get up.”
If her heart rate had been normal, it sure as heck wasn’t now.
Olivia gingerly moved one leg off of Gavin’s lap, then the other. She hadn’t really held her own weight since that freaking orgasm, and getting up off of someone’s lap was always super awkward, even under normal circumstances. She staggered a little.
Immediately he was there. Standing behind her, one hand on her hip, the other supporting her hand, his breath on her neck. The heat arced up her spine to the top of her head and she leaned back into him, so easily reduced to an animal need.
“Are you ok?” he said.
Eyes half lidded, she nodded.
“Walk forward.”
Olivia opened her eyes and tried to come back to earth. His hands were on her, but not in a way that suggested he was about to tear her dress off and pull her back down on that chair. Instead he’d given an order.
She took a step forward.
“This way.”
She could see the attic in greater detail from the shadows, no longer blinded by the light still streaming in from the skylight. He was guiding her towards the opposite corner, where there were more objects covered under sheets. Whatever he had under there didn’t get much use. Her mind paused on that, and then just as quickly let go again—his fingertips on the small of her back, the smell of him, of her.
Already she felt like she was slipping right back under whatever spell he’d put on her, and it felt fucking amazing.
“Stop here.”
He’d walked her right up to what looked like a chair, covered in a sheet—a chair playing ghost. Gavin leaned in front of her, his hand still on the small of her back, and the sheet whispered over the wood underneath as he slowly pulled it off.
Yup. A chair. But like one of those abductor/adductor weight machines—definitely the most seductive piece of equipment at the gym she never went to—with leg holders that seemed designed to…spread.
A tiny shiver ran up and down her spine, tingling all the way, and settled between her legs.
Ok, not so tiny.
Huge.
She couldn’t stop staring at it.
And then she felt his fingers pull on the zipper of her dress. So slowly she could hear each little zwip, he unzipped her. Olivia felt the straps of her dress fall an inch or two down her shoulder.
Her breath hitched.
The chair had restraints on it.
He pushed the straps of her dress down her arms, his fingers pressing into her skin. Her breaths came faster, shallower. So this was happening. She half-closed her eyes and focused on every sensation, every touch, while he slowly stripped her of her dress, and she was reminded of what it felt like in high school to drive around in Ben Kruger’s car, late at night, after sneaking out of the house. That weird feeling of going way, way too fast, of feeling dangerous and totally invincible all at once…
He took off her bra, barely touching her, then her underwear. She was naked. Dizzy and disoriented. Lightheaded.
She’d felt like that on the bench, too.
Only then she’d been able to hide it. Now Gavin had stripped her down and he wasn’t touching her anymore and when she opened her eyes, she realized it was because he was just…watching her.
Gavin stood in front of her, saying nothing and speaking volumes. The man’s eyes were…not hungry, but feasting. He examined every inch of her naked body, appreciating in his own time, not once seeming to register her increasing discomfort—though she knew him, and she knew he knew. He probably knew more about what she was feeling right then than she did. Because she didn’t know why, but being…seen like that made her…
It was like the car sped up. Like she was going a million miles per hour and she wasn’t driving, and she had no control over what was about to happen.
“Sit down,” he suddenly said, and stepped to the side, his hand gesturing toward the chair.
Olivia hesitated.
“What does it do?” she said.
Everything stopped. Gavin glowered down at her and it made her feel sick. She’d been riding high on his reactions to her, on how much he wanted her. She hadn’t realized how comforting that had been until she lost it.
And she hadn’t realized how intimidating he could be.
“If you don’t trust me, put your clothes back on, and go to the other room,” he said finally. “You either submit or you don’t. Make a choice. This is the last time I’ll entertain this without consequences.”
Olivia thought of the spanking bench. Somehow she thought she might have enjoyed it too much for it to qualify as “consequences.”
“Do you trust me?” he said.
Olivia met his hard gaze, and a frisson of uncertainty ran down her spine. She did trust him. Completely.
But did he trust her?
And why did that matter so much?
“I do,” she whispered finally.
Gavin’s expression remained unchanged, but he put out his hand again, silently ordering her to the chair. Olivia shivered, feeling a slight breeze in the still attic for the first time, just enough to remind her that she was naked. As she got closer she could see a bunch of other details—the soft leather restraints, the unique legs, the tiny little shelf of a seat that would make it essentially bottomless. Her mind reeled.
Does this thing recline?
It absolutely reclines.
Why am I shaking?
She watched her trembling hand with fascination as she put it out to steady herself on the armrest as she tried to…situate herself. She wasn’t afraid, exactly. Just hyper-charged. Still going a million miles per hour in her own head, with no brakes. Just naked, and under his control.
Olivia settled herself onto the soft leather, the tiny seat-shelf, and felt the chair ease back—it did recline.
She looked up.
Gavin towered over her, and the tension inside her coiled a little tighter. When he bent down, it wasn’t to touch her. It was to tie her up.
Olivia gasped slightly. He didn’t stop. Just took one ankle and secured it to the leg of the chair with a soft leather strap, then the other. He ran his hand up the inside of her right leg, almost absentmindedly, and she took a shuddering breath. It was only a second before her wrists were secured too.
“Try them,” he ordered.
She knew what he meant. What was weird was that she hadn’t already tested the restraints without his permission. She pulled at the soft leather, half expecting it to give slightly, and was surprised to realize that nope, she was restrained, for real.
Naked.
She looked up at Gavin, and it felt like her heart exploded. Her pulse beat against every nerve in her body, her skin felt hot, her pussy swollen. Oh my fucking God. Was this what people who jumped out of planes felt like? Or was everyone else in the world just missing out?
She squirmed in her half-seat, needing to move, finding she couldn’t, and feeling the sensation build between her legs.
Suddenly Gavin put both hands on either side of her, resting on the back of her chair, and pushed backwards until she was reclined at an angle. Olivia met his eyes again, and this time it was like being smacked in the face.
Too much.
He saw too much. She was going too fast. It was too—
“Olivia.”
People who overreach set themselves up for a fall…
“Look at me.”
She wrenched her eyes away from his chest, did as she was told. It felt like putting her hand next to fire. He saw through her. He saw exactly how much she liked this, exactly how much it scared her, exactly all the things she’d never even said aloud…
“Keep your eyes on me,” he ordered. His face was a harsh collection of angular shadows in the light, but his eyes burned through. Dumbly, she nodded. Everything was shutting down. Everything…
He reached down and turned something she couldn’t see on the side of the chair. The legs inched apart.
Oh my fucking God.
She fought against it. She tried not to, but every muscle in her body fought against being spread, slowly and certainly, and with every inch the heat inside her grew. She couldn’t stop it, she couldn’t understand it, and she couldn’t look away.
His eyes bore into her. Inside her.
She strained to get closer to him, to get him closer to her. She needed to move, she needed to touch, she needed to be touched. She could feel herself slick against the leather of the seat, hot, needy. What little she could move, she could feel, and so she ground her hips, felt the pressure build, pulse—
Oh fuck.
It was the first crest shy of an orgasm, and she was looking right at him. He was looking at her.
And she was fucking happy.
This was what she’d wanted, what she’d needed, all this time. All of those misfires, those failed relationships, those dead bedrooms…
And then it swelled even larger, and it turned into the crest of a wave that she knew was going to put her under, and she gripped the edge of the armrests as hard as she could and shouted.
“Yellow!”
Everything stopped.
For a second Gavin just stared at her, his concentration broken. Just a sheen of glowing sweat on his forehead, wide eyes, a shadow of—surprise? Amazement? Wonder?
And then it was gone. In a split-second he released one wrist, then the other. Too fast for her to even react, and he was already releasing her ankles, and then pulling her out of the chair, gently, gingerly, his big arms wrapping around her and lifting her, so strong and controlled that something deep in her bones knew to feel safe. He carried her, quickly, over to his bed. Set her down, carefully, preciously. Wrapped her in his blankets.
Held her.
Gavin’s arms around her. The back of his fingers on her cheek. His lips on her forehead.
“How are you?” he said.
Olivia sighed, and snuggled down until she’d wrapped him around her like a sexier, better blanket, spooning her from behind. She could tell him the truth, even truths she’d never told herself, but not while looking right at him. Not yet, anyway.
“I’m actually pretty good,” she said eventually. She could still feel her heart beat, but now she could enjoy it. “You…stopped.”
“Of course I did,” he rumbled. He held her a little tighter. “What happened? Can you talk yet?”
Olivia took a deep breath. She’d said she’d trusted him, and she meant it. But apparently she didn’t trust herself, and she had no idea what to say about that.
She kissed his forearm where it cradled her head. She could feel him watching her. She knew that was nuts, but she was positive she could feel it. Just like she could feel his heart beat thundering in his chest, slow and strong.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
She felt him stiffen. Then he slowly turned her over, so she was on her back, naked, under him. The weight of him, the solid bulk of him, the pressure… Olivia bit her lip.
“Don’t ever apologize for that,” he said.
Something in his voice caught. She looked up, directly at him, focusing on his face and not on the thudding pressure building up inside her. “Ever,” he said again.
Olivia nodded.
She wanted to reach up, touch his face. Feel the stubble starting to come in there, the border where his hard, weathered cheeks became soft, tender lips. And before she could, he put his hand on her face, looked her in her eyes.
“Thank you,” he said.
Olivia broke a little bit.
She’d been stretched too far, too long, feeling things she’d never admitted and finding out whatever the hell else, and she broke. She grabbed his hand holding her cheek and pulled it down the side of her body, her eyes pleading with his, and buried his hand in the wetness between her legs.
“Please,” she begged.
A beat.
She squealed as Gavin squeezed her and made a low, guttural sound. He launched himself up off the bed, his eyes never leaving her. His lip curled as he tore off his shirt, his jeans, his boxers. He fell back on top of her as she half sat up, spreading her legs and pushing her back down, flat on her back in his bed, and he looked at her. He let her know it. His big hands engulfed hers, pinned them up above her head, and he took her in.
Olivia blinked.
And then his big body covered hers and he bit her neck as he entered her, for the first time in a long time, one long, strong stroke that filled her with heat and stretched her until a cry tore from her throat. She arched into him as he held her down, possessing her, fucking her, owning her. Every merciless sensation pushed her thoughts, her worries, all the bullshit that usually occupied her life, further and further from the edge of experience, until she was just one hot, bright core of pleasure throbbing in rhythm with the man inside her. The man who let go of her neck and threaded his hand through her hair, propping himself up on one hand while he held her down with the other, held her where he could pin her eyes with his and show her, with every thrust, that everything had changed.
20
It was three days before Gavin could tear himself away.
Three days with Olivia in his bed. Three days of trying out every piece of equipment in his attic, every toy he hadn’t touched in years, every single thought he’d had about her since Los Angeles.
The only thing he could compare it to was the first drink of water after a long, hot, hard day. He couldn’t get enough. He drank until it hurt, neither of them able to stop until they collapsed. He’d had food and water sent up, clothes, sheets. And he knew it should be a blur, but he remembered every aching, fevered second of it. The only thing that kept him from losing control completely was his iron clad rule
of separate beds.
As it was, he’d been away from the club—from her—not ten minutes, and he felt it. Driving back into his old neighborhood, his hands tight on the wheel, he felt it. If he was the kind of man to shake, he’d be shaken.
She was different than she’d been in that Los Angeles hotel room. Los Angeles had been the first time she’d let herself go in front of anyone else, but now, every time they touched, every time they kissed, every time they fucked, she let him see more and more of her. And the more he saw, the more he wanted her.
The way she responded to restraints, for example. Good Lord. Olivia wasn’t the first sub to find freedom in restraint, but she was the only one in the world who made it that beautiful to watch. And she’d called yellow.
She’d called yellow.
Not on the restraints. She’d called it on the way he watched her. On the vulnerability. But she used a safe word when she needed it. That must be why he couldn’t tear himself away, why it was so easy to lose time with her. So easy that he had to fight for breath, for fucking sanity. So easy that he every time he closed his eyes, he saw Olivia.
You have work to do, Colson.
Gavin killed the lights on his rental and listened for a second to the stutter of rain on the windows.
He hadn’t been back here in a while. He’d been meaning to come back to his old game, but then Olivia had happened.
Damn it, even the rain made him think of her. The slick, sliding, warm rain. Gavin rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off that itch, that need to get back to her and get inside her, and took a deep breath.
He needed information.
He opened the door and took his time walking up to the bar, then down the side alley where there’d be a spare key hidden behind a loose brick in the wall. Couldn’t be much of a secret anymore, but anyone dumb enough to rob a poker game full of Doms was probably too dumb to figure out what “loose brick” meant in the first place.
Gavin grinned as he took the stairs two at a time. It was his favorite group.
“Where the hell have you been?” Luke said, smiling as Gavin opened the door.
