by Lila Dubois
Because he wasn’t here.
“Home,” she whispered.
Roman opened his arms and Savannah went into them. The hug turned to petting. Together they danced backward toward the bed. Roman laid her on her back, her hair spreading across the mattress.
“Savannah, I don’t want to hurt you or push you.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I know, but I want to take care of you, protect you. I failed you five years ago, and I won’t fail you again.” His eyes searched her face. “Sex isn’t why I want you.”
“It’s not?” she asked with a grin. He didn’t smile in return.
“If you told me you never wanted to have sex again I’d still be here, still want you.”
Tears slid from the corners of her eyes. “Thank you.”
He kissed the tears away, then lay beside her, just holding her. For a long time Savannah drifted in the perfect happiness of the moment. She wanted to stay like this forever, safe in his arms as the night serenaded them. But it wasn’t enough. His scent, the warm press of his body and the even pace of his breath did more than just soothe her—it aroused her. Soon she was shifting restlessly, wanting more but unwilling to end this perfect moment.
“Touch me,” she said.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll tell me if I hurt you?”
“Yes.” Savannah undid the tie of her robe, spreading the edges open to reveal her naked body. His gaze raked her, lingering on her breasts and pussy.
“My beautiful Savannah.”
Roman leaned in and captured her lips in a kiss. Their tongues touched and he tasted the same as she remembered. His lips traced her cheeks, her eyelids and then down her throat.
Roman kissed each place Wilcox had hurt, easing the memory of that terrible ordeal from her skin. Tears slipped from his eyes when he reached her thighs, which were permanently marked from the cane. He traced the thin white scars with fingers and lips. She drew him up until she could kiss the tears from his cheeks and silence his litany of “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” with a kiss.
He scooted lower, kissing his way down her belly until his mouth was on her sex. He brought her to a slow, gentle orgasm with his fingers and tongue. He eased one, then two fingers into her. She was tight. It had been a long time.
With ripples of pleasure still gliding through her, she pulled Roman to her. His chest settled on hers, his hips a warm weight between her legs. Together they positioned themselves so his cock was in place.
With gentle pressure, he slid into her.
“I never stopped loving you,” he said. There was sweat on his forehead, and his eyes were stark.
She wrapped one leg over his ass, urging him to move just a bit faster. “I hated you, the man I thought you were. But I never stopped loving the Roman I’d first fallen in love with.”
He came first, whispering apologies, but she liked it. She liked feeling him lose control and fall to pieces.
With his cock still in her he shifted his weight to one side so he could reach between her legs. His fingers on her clit, his cock in her and his eyes on her face, he brought her to orgasm.
Chapter Ten
Savannah slept until noon the next day. The sun was well up by the time she blinked herself awake. She stretched and muscles low in her body twitched and twinged. Remembering last night, she rolled over to see that the bed was empty but Roman was seated on the vanity stool.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning. What time is it?”
“It’s afternoon.”
“I should be up.”
“You needed to sleep.”
Savannah yawned and blinked. The bed was too comfortable to get out of. She pulled her pillow into place and lay down on her side, facing him. “You’re dressed.”
“I have to go.”
Savannah’s heart stopped, then beat so loud she was sure he’d hear it. She looked away from him, out the window.
“I need to go back to Chicago for a few days, no more. Then I’ll come back here.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
“Yes, I do. And more importantly, I want to. There are meetings I can’t afford to cancel. If you want I’ll walk you through the details of the deals I’m in the middle of so you understand why I have to go.”
Savannah blinked. He sounded stern and slightly exasperated. He sounded…like Roman. Not like a man trying to give her the brush-off, or a man riddled by guilt and regret.
“Okay, explain it to me.”
He nodded, then came to sit beside her on the bed. “Chicago has several areas that were harder hit than others by the recession. In particular, many of them were held by a title company—”
“Stop.” Savannah held her hand up. “I changed my mind.”
Roman planted a hand on either side of her and leaned close. “You thought I was leaving.”
“Well, maybe you got what you came for.”
“One night of sex and I’m done? This chapter of my life closed?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, you’re wrong, and the only way to prove that is to leave and come back.”
Savannah sat up, forcing him to give her space. “You can come back, but we don’t even know what this thing between us is. Maybe we should just be happy with knowing the truth and with last night.”
“No.” Roman pulled something from his pocket. “This,” he gestured between them, “is soul mates finding each other again. And this,” he held up a phone, “is your new cell phone.”
“What happened to my old cell phone?”
“It was a dinosaur. Now we’ll be able to chat and see each other whenever we want.”
He went out into the hall and called her. Savannah answered, watching his face pop up on the screen, her familiar hallway behind him. “Hello, beautiful.”
“Hello, handsome.”
“What are you wearing?”
Savannah laughed. “Why don’t you come see for yourself?”
An hour later, Savannah stood on her porch and watched him drive away. As the car disappeared between the shoulder-high corn, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever see him again.
* * * * *
He called her from the airport, then again from a cab in Chicago. He texted her from his meeting and she scolded him and told him to get back to work. That night they lay in bed, phone propped up so they could see each other, and talked for hours, the way they used to.
“Roman, there’s something I’m worried about.”
“What’s that, gorgeous?”
“I don’t know if I can ever… I don’t know if I could ever be a submissive again.”
The truth was that after they had sex last night she’d had a dream where he was dominating her. But that dream was shortly followed by a nightmare memory of Mr. Wilcox’s abuse. “I don’t know if I’ll ever want kinky sex again. Sometimes, when I was at the clubs, I would see something I found…inspiring, but it was never about sex for me.”
“That doesn’t matter. I don’t need BDSM play.”
“Are you sure? After all, you were at a club.” She raised a brow. “That was a members-only club, so you must have been there before.”
“I go, but only to watch. I’ve felt so…dead inside, that I went looking for anything that might make me feel something.”
Savannah had the urge to throw up more roadblocks, to find a way to make this not work. It would be easier, safer, than letting him into her life.
“There’s something I want to try when I get back.”
“Roman…” Savannah didn’t think she had it in her to try anything.
“You can say no, but… I want you to Dominate me.”
“What?” Savannah nearly fell off the bed in surprise.
“You’re a beautiful Domme. If that gives you pleasure, then I’ll be your sub.”
“You’ll be submissive.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll learn.”
“Roman…”
“Savannah, I want to do this, for you.”
Finally she couldn’t hold it in anymore and a little giggle escaped her. “I can’t imagine you as a sub.”
“I’m trying to be serious here, woman.”
“I know and, uh, thank you, but I don’t want you to be my sub. I don’t want to ever put on the catsuit again. That was just…a way to keep my sanity. There was no pleasure in it. It was a need, a compulsion.”
“Well then, if you need to you’ll use me as your sub.”
“You’re ordering me to use you as a sub?”
“Damn, that came out wrong.”
She watched as he rubbed his face with one hand. It was touching that Roman, who would hate to give up control as a submissive, was willing to do it to please her.
“If I feel the need to play Domme I’ll tell you,” she said.
“Thank you.”
* * * * *
The next day Roman was back in Savannah, as promised. This time he had two cases of luggage, and ten minutes after he arrived a delivery box of computer equipment showed up.
“Are you moving in?” she asked in surprise.
“Of course not, well, not yet. My agent is lining up properties for me to see.”
“You’re going to buy something in Savannah?”
“You’re here, so this is where I’m going to be.”
“Roman, you can’t move here just to be with me.”
“Why not?”
“Your business is in Chicago.”
“And two of my key managers just got big promotions. I’m the boss, I shouldn’t be doing all this detail work anyway.”
Savannah watched as he unpacked a box of computer equipment.
He was serious.
Until that moment she’d been holding back, assuming it was guilt or remembered love or some other emotion keeping him here. She was sure that once the emotional turmoil of the past days faded he’d drift away, back to Chicago.
“You’re serious.”
He looked up at the shock in her words. “About what?”
“About this, about us.”
“I am.” His gaze dropped to the box and his shoulders sagged for a moment. “I know you don’t love me anymore and maybe you never will again, but I want to try. Living without you isn’t something I want to do again.”
“Don’t buy a house.”
Hurt flashed in his eyes.
“I mean, stay here.”
He shook his head, reluctantly. “I shouldn’t. I should give you space. We’re dating, remember?”
“Stay in the guest bedroom, but stay.”
They unpacked him into the guest bedroom. They argued about installing the wireless router. They made dinner and then went out for dessert, eating vanilla ice cream with real pralines in it. The next day, at Roman’s insistence, Savannah tried to show him how to throw a pot. He stalked off in disgust, dripping clay-saturated water as Savannah howled in laughter.
A week after that they had a fight about the merits of declaring the co-op a nonprofit, then had hot, angry sex on the kitchen floor.
A month later Savannah called her parents and told them she was back together with Roman. He spoke with both of them, and while they started out cool they soon warmed up and were happily asking what he’d been up to. After that they called Roman’s parents, who were equally excited.
There was no going back.
* * * * *
Roman mounted the steps into the house. There were no lights on inside, which was odd but not alarming, as when she was sketching Savannah could lose track of mundane things. He let himself in quietly so he wouldn’t disturb her. There was a note on the floor just inside the door. Roman picked it up.
Roman,
I want to be with you, without hesitation. I have to know.
-Savannah
He turned the paper over, but there was no other message, or any clues as to what it was about. Just as he went to flick on the entry lights he saw a flicker. He following the light to the little-used front parlor, which was more formal than the living room, and which, because of the big bay windows, was usually too hot to use.
The room was lit by dozens of candles. Kneeling in the center, completely naked, was Savannah. She knelt with her knees spread, head down, hands palm up on her thighs—the position of a submissive.
Longing spiked through Roman’s gut. He wanted to take her, possess her in the way that BDSM let him.
But he wouldn’t, this was wrong.
“Savannah.”
She looked up. “Yes, Master.”
“No, I won’t do this. I won’t hurt you or bring back bad memories.”
Her gaze searched his face. “I need to know, we need to know.”
“Know what?”
“I need to know if these feelings I have, the desire to have you Dominate me, use me, is real. I need to know if I can handle you actually doing those things.” She reached out and held up several scarves. “And you need to know that I trust you.”
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered. Despite himself he was aroused. Her nipples were pink in the candlelight and her fall of straight hair lay over her shoulders.
“I don’t know if I really want this, or if it will just be too hard.” She rose to her feet, still holding the scarves. “But we need to know.”
Roman stripped off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Carefully he approached her, taking the scarves from her. Up close he could see both fear and desire in her eyes—the same emotions that rolled through him.
He took the scarves from her. “Wrists.”
Savannah’s fingers trembled as she held her wrists up. Roman wrapped the scarf around them, binding them together.
Bending, he lifted her, carrying her up the stairs to the guest bedroom, which was now used to store his suitcases and extra clothes. He laid her on the bed.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“Roll over. On your knees.”
Savannah obeyed, rolling onto her belly and tucking her legs under her hips. Her bound hands were nestled under her cheek. He took a second scarf and tied it between her bent right elbow and her right thigh, leaving it loose enough that she could move a bit. He repeated it on the left side, a modified hogtie.
Her breathing had sped up. When he touched her back, she jumped. “What’s your safe word?”
“Paint.”
“Say it again.”
“Paint.”
Tied like this, she couldn’t straighten her legs. Her ass and pussy were up and exposed. Roman cupped her ass, rubbing the globes. He kneaded her thighs, rubbed her back, even massaged her feet.
“Tell me how you feel.”
“Hot, ready. I want you.”
“What do you want me to do to you?”
“I want you to fuck me.”
“How?”
“Hard. Now. Fast.”
Roman grinned in savage triumph. There was no fear in her voice, only blisteringly hot arousal and need.
“But what if I want to play with you first?” Roman traced the lips of her sex, then pushed them open with two fingers. She was wet, her skin hot to the touch.
“Please, please fuck me.”
Roman dropped to his knees and kissed her ass, her mound.
“Oh yes, yes,” she whispered.
Roman buried his face in her pussy, licking and sucking the soft skin, nipping and kissing her clit. In mere minutes she came, the scarves creaking and tearing as she thrashed in pleasure.
As her orgasm subsided, he started to remove the scarves but hesitated. Instead he dropped his pants, grabbed his hips, and thrust into her.
The pleasure was instant and explosive. Her body clenched down on his cock like a vise.
“Mine, you’re mine,” he panted as he fucked her in short, hard thrusts.
“Yes, I’m yours.
Fuck me, take me, own me.”
With a growl of satisfaction, Roman came too.
Afterwards he carefully unbound her, rubbing her arms and legs to return the circulation. He carried her to their bedroom and then into the bathroom with the clawfoot tub. Though it was a tight fit, he filled it half full with water and then got in, urging her to join him. She settled between his legs, her back on his chest.
“Talk to me,” was all he said.
“That felt good. I wanted it.” Her fingers made lazy patterns on the water. “I didn’t want to. I hoped I’d be scared or hate it, but I didn’t. Nothing made me think about what happened before. I knew it was you. I knew I was safe.”
“I’m glad.”
“And what about you?” She twisted her head to look at him. “How did that feel to you?”
“I wanted to… I wanted to keep you like that. To pleasure you until you couldn’t think, let alone talk. I wanted to fuck you every way I could think of, then start over and fuck you again.”
Savannah’s breath caught at his words and her pupils dilated in arousal. Roman cupped her breasts, rubbing her wet nipples.
“Lift your legs and hook them over the sides of the tub.”
Without hesitation she obeyed, then reached back and laced her fingers together behind his neck, which gave him full access to her breasts and pussy. Roman wasted no time. He cupped her sex, sliding his middle finger into her while rubbing her clit with the heel of his hand.
“You’re mine. You will do as I tell you, when I tell you.”
“Oh yes, please.”
“Your pussy and ass are mine. I will fuck them, use them.”
He guided her up, helping her turn until she was facing him.
She cupped her own breasts, pinching the nipples so hard they looked white. The sight shredded the last of his control. Roman grabbed her hips and forced her down onto his cock.
“You’re mine,” he growled. “I love you, and you’re mine.”
A small smile played over Savannah’s lips. “And you’re mine, and I love you too.”
About Lila Dubois
Lila is a multi-published, bestselling author of erotic, paranormal and fantasy romance. Having spent extensive time in France, Egypt, Turkey, Ireland and England, Lila speaks five languages, none of them (including English) fluently.
