Games We Play

by Cynthia Dane

  Stop thinking about that. Stop thinking about how much you used to love this. You were wrong, you know. Now look at you. Living right up to those perverted expectations.

  Something pierced her inside. Not the strap-on, although she stopped humping long enough to reorient the rest of her body for better penetration. No. What was it? Those faraway memories she had suppressed for her own, embittered good?

  Impossible. No way was there someone watching them through the windows. They were thirty stories high. The windows were tinted. The curtains were drawn. Nobody, not even the nosiest tabloid reporter, could see what they did right now.

  So why did Sloan feel like they were being watched?

  “Fuck me, Leah,” she insisted when she was back in her saddle. “Fuck me hard.”

  She never spoke like that when she did this before, right? That would’ve been out of character back then. The Maggie of old was more likely to coo, “Please, please fuck me. Fuck me soooo hard.” Sickening. It sounded so much better coming from Leah like that. It was natural to her. It was directed to another woman. Superior in every way.

  “Fuck me!”

  I’m in control. I control all of this. Sloan controlled how much her lover could move. She controlled the angles of their lovemaking. She could even control her orgasms, since she was so familiar with her own body that it was only a matter of hitting the right inner wall or stopping for a few seconds to prolong the pleasure. Nobody tells me what to do. Nobody controls me.

  If she wanted to come, she damn well would. She’d do it for her own pleasure, and she’d do it to turn her submissive lover on.

  Yet no matter how hard Sloan grabbed Leah’s breasts or grinded against her pelvis, the result was unavoidable. Climax came fast, like a hurricane ripping through her body and leaving nothing in its path. Her mind made sure she didn’t forget the most horrifying thing at the peak of her climax.

  You control shit.

  There was nothing more intense than a Domme like her coming down from her high with those intrusive thoughts. She may have looked calm and physically sated on the outside, but inside? Leah should start praying. Now.

  Because those demons Sloan fought to control every single day of her life had awakened.

  Once they were awake, there was no corralling them back into the depths of her soul until they were indulged.

  The next hour started with a kiss. Famished, consuming kisses that left Leah whimpering against Sloan’s lips and writhing because her lover refused to help her expend that beautiful, sexual energy. You will come when I say so. You will do what I say. You will… This was why Sloan couldn’t keep a partner for more than a week, wasn’t it? Her domineering nature was appealing to women like Leah until they found out how far she could push them. On the second fucking date, no less.

  Leah had her safe word, but she never said it. Not even when Sloan asked her time and time again if she wanted to stop – even Sloan was capable of those moments of clarity when she briefly realized how far they were going so soon. It was one thing to saddle the woman up and ride her like the prophesized pony of every heiress’s birthday party, but it was quite another to tease Leah’s areolas with the hard, cold metal of nipple clamps before taking her on that pleasantly painful ride of her life. It was also one thing to spank her pussy with a soft paddle until she cried uncle, and quite another to then fuck her with the strap-on.

  To be fair, she had begged for it. And when Sloan was in that dangerous headspace, she was inclined to give her partner whatever she begged for.

  The handkerchief had moved from Leah’s mouth to her eyes, blinding her to the world around them and heightening her other senses. Or so Sloan told herself, though the truth was that she couldn’t bear to make eye contact with her lover tonight. She didn’t want to look down and see a soul at the end of her nose. She wanted the sounds, the scents, and the tastes of mutual ecstasy, but not a single shred of emotion. This was why she hired women to be her kinky partners. They knew how to detach their feelings and go along with it. They also weren’t afraid to use their safe words and put Sloan in her place when necessary. Women she picked up organically were finicky about that. Damn them.

  As long as she heard the cries of orgasm and the enthusiastic demands of a woman finally living out her kinky fantasies, Sloan would keep going.

  Going, going…

  Wouldn’t she fatigue at some point? Wouldn’t she tire of turning her lover’s skin red and making her come? No. I don’t know how to slow down when I get this way.

  Why would she want to slow down? She was living the high of her life!

  “You learned all this from me, you know…”

  No, no, no! Why was this happening now? How was it possible to enjoy sex so much, but feel like nothing but shit creeped into her brain?

  I’m not okay. I’ve never been okay. Instead of addressing that, however, Sloan freed her lover from everything that touched her, from the clamps, to the straps, to the handcuffs and the blindfold keeping her apart from the woman she asked to dominate her.

  “Is this what you wanted?” she whispered into Leah’s ear, tasting the sweet sweat of her body. “Is this what you always dreamed of, kitten?”

  Leah could barely move. Her eyes remained closed, and from the way her chest rose and fell beneath Sloan’s gaze, she knew that her lover was in that faraway world called subspace. An Elysian mental state where everything is grand, feels good, and is for the mutual benefit of a trusting, loving couple. Sloan was about to choke.

  A weak hand touched her chest. Sloan had never taken off her dress, and now it bunched around her torso, drenched in sweat and more than likely ruined. She didn’t care.

  “You flew me all the way out here to do that to me, yeah?”

  Sloan softly chuckled. “It was all I could think about. I wanted tonight to be so special that you never, ever forgot me.”

  “How could I forget you? I’ve never met someone like you be…” Leah’s eyes glistened. She clamped her hand over them, a sob wracking her body.

  Sloan was so far gone in her own head that Leah’s behavior almost didn’t register. When it did, she was quick to turn over and ask, “What’s wrong? You okay?”

  “I don’t…” Leah curled into the fetal position, her body still struggling to contain itself. “I don’t know why I’m…”

  Right. For every time a woman entered subspace, she was bound to come crashing down when the visit was over. There was no parachute to save Leah from being kicked out of the plane, and they were too high up for her to land on her feet.

  It’s my job to take care of this… It used to be Sloan’s favorite part. The raw, uncut emotions experienced when it was all over and there was only the two of them. Closer. Closer than ever before.

  “You’re okay.” Sloan patted Leah’s sweaty skin. “It’s normal. It happens to everyone after something like that.”

  Leah sobbed harder, searching for Sloan’s reassuring embrace.

  Oh, fuck.

  This was why Sloan never went as hard as she wanted. This was why she paired with women who knew when to say that was far enough. If there was one thing she failed at as a Domme, it was the fucking after care. She often swore her heart was too hollow to accommodate her lovers’ after-sex tantrums.

  “Hey, hey…” The part of her that damned Leah for forcing her out of her mental bullshit was the same part that was determined to not fuck it up this time. Not with a woman who barely understood what was happening. I may not be marrying her, but I’d rather not be responsible for her needing therapy for the rest of her life. “You’re fine. I promise. It’s your first time going through this, right?”

  “I don’t know… I don’t… understand…”

  “Don’t speak. You’re going to upset yourself more.” Sloan thought back on the first few times she explored kink with partners she supposedly trusted. How did they take care of her when she inevitably exploded in fear and anxiety? The brain was a bitch, sometimes.

  “Plea
se…” That wasn’t the plea of a woman in need of more pleasure. That was all-too-familiar fear lacing Leah’s voice. “I’m scared.”

  “Hey, what’s there to be afraid of?” God, I suck at this! Why did submissive people have to do this? “I’m serious. You’re cool, okay? Nobody’s going to get you. Everything’s fine between us. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Leah continued to snuggle up against Sloan’s naked body. “You’re not?”

  “No. Why would I be?” Only thing she was getting up for was a cigarette. As she came down from her own headspace, she increasingly wanted a fucking cigarette.

  Leah stopped sniffing, although the tears continued to color Sloan’s chest. “I don’t know.”

  I need to think of something. Fast. “Do you want to take a bath? Together?”

  Leah’s heard perked up. Her matted curls were plastered to her forehead, thanks to the wayward tears and sweat from their physical activities. “You wanna do that?”

  “I’m pretty sweaty. It’s difficult for me to sleep without being clean first.” Some people called her high maintenance for that. Sloan called them disgusting and smelly. “Why don’t we hop in the tub? You’ll relax. It always worked for me.”

  That last part was an off-hand comment. Sloan had foolishly assumed that Leah’s current mental state meant she wasn’t perceptive to the underlying meanings spilling from her partner’s mouth. “You know what this feels like?”

  Sighing, Sloan got up, careful to keep her movements slow and unlikely to frighten her poor lover. Nobody knew better than Margaret Sloan how volatile a subdropped woman could be. “Maybe I’ll tell you about it later. How about we put on some music and soak in that tub?”

  Leah nodded, but she wasn’t about to get up by herself. She extended her hands to Sloan and motioned for her to do most of the heavy lifting.

  Sloan wasn’t strong enough to carry Leah into the bathroom. She would have to settle for an escort in Sloan’s embrace, and not once leaving her side the whole time the tub filled with soapy water and candles burned in the darkened master bath.

  She was still crying little tears by the time she hopped into the tub, but Leah also had a smile that said this was the greatest night of her life. God, I’m so sorry. Sloan played along, going as far as letting Leah sit between her legs and lean against her chest. Sloan’s arm hung over the side of the tub, her face consumed by Leah’s hair.

  It was the most intimate thing she had done in years. The fact it warmed one cockle of her heart was so unbearable that she almost joined Leah in her tears.

  But she didn’t. She had to be the strong one. It was what she claimed to want when she left the life of a submissive woman over five years ago.

  Chapter 17

  Sloan barely slept that night. When her dreams didn’t haunt her with memories of another life, she was subjected to Leah’s clinginess that knew no damned boundaries. She indulged her, of course. Why not let Leah snuggle up to her for most of the night, her breath heavy and hot, her toes sharp against Sloan’s legs, and her pubic hair tickling well until dawn.

  Why the fuck not!

  I give up getting sleep. That’s what Sloan thought the moment she saw daylight beyond the curtains. She gently pried Leah off her and texted Ayla to order them something for breakfast. Anything, as long as it wasn’t too greasy.

  Sloan unearthed an old pair of yoga pants from the bottom of the dresser and searched five minutes for a decent shirt to wear. She ran her fingers across her scalp, shivering. If her head was cold, then it must be time to turn up the heat a little.

  She might also have been hallucinating, because she swore she heard the front door of the small apartment open.

  Her finger was on the button to summon security faster than she could rationalize who it might be. Cleaning crew? No way. It’s Sunday. Had Ayla dropped by since she was in the neighborhood? Hell no! She would never do that without texting her boss first!

  That left one possible person – outside of a burglar, of course. Sloan glanced at Leah, still asleep in the bed, and hustled into the hallway before they were both caught off guard.

  “What the…” Sloan almost didn’t recognize the woman in her foyer, dressed in nothing but a flirty trench coat and a snug dress beneath. She had already kicked off one shoe when she looked up, startled to see Sloan in her PJs. “What the hell are you doing here, and why do you have a fucking key to my apartment?”

  Christie Yearwood’s eyes lit up in delight once she realized what had happened. “My, my,” she said, her voice flirtier than her getup. It was a far cry from what she wore to the fundraiser the night before. “I didn’t know you would be here, but this changes everything.” She cocked her head, silky brown hair moving to reveal her dangly ruby earrings. I used to have a pair like that. “Your hair! I knew you wore wigs, but never expected you to be pulling a Sinead O’Connor beneath them!”

  “What. Are. You. Doing here?”

  “Don’t be like that. Our mutual acquaintance told me to come here.”

  “At eight in the mor… who?”

  Christie, with her hands on her hips, looked like she owned the place as opposed to breaking into it. “You really don’t know? I thought our lovely conversation last night implied you knew we would be meeting this morning.”

  “For what, exactly?”

  Christie shrugged. “Sex.”

  Are you kidding me? No wonder Christie was so invested in conversation the night before! She must have thought I was flirting back! Sloan always flirted with women, but not like that! Not with Christie Yearwood, especially! I knew she was interested, but… c’mon!

  “I’m quite satisfied already, thank you.” Sloan might be in the mood for rolling around with Leah once more before she had to go back to Portland, but she was not taking on new lovers anytime soon. That definitely included socialites who probably treated lesbian sex like that naughty thing they did in their twenties before settling down with boring, unimaginative yet demanding husbands. What does that boar you’re rumored to be dating think of this? Sloan couldn’t remember his name – that’s how little she cared about inane dating scandals. “Your services aren’t needed here.”

  “You really didn’t know I was coming by?” Christie scratched behind her ear. A canary diamond glistened on her right index finger. I also used to have a piece like that… None of the jewels and settings Christie modeled on her svelte, ladylike body were identical to the pieces Sloan used to wear every day, but they were similar enough to fire off warning shots in her head. “That’s… unexpected. I was led to believe this was your idea.”

  “Do you think I’d ask a girlfriend of mine to wear something tacky like that?” She pointed to the dress beneath Christie’s trench coat.

  “I wasn’t led to believe that you picked this out. I did.” How coy of her. “Anyway, sorry for interrupting your morning. I did as I was bade.” She turned and slipped one of her shoes back onto her foot. “Pity, though. I’ve been wondering for weeks how good you are in bed. I’m told you’re one of the best.”

  “Liar. Nobody told you that.”

  “Oh, they did.” Christie opened her mouth to speak again, but something behind Sloan caught her attention.

  “What’s going on?” Leah, dressed in a robe much too big for her, almost made Sloan jump out of her skin. “Who’s this?”

  “I see. You had a guest all along. Well, I told him I was into the sex with girls and threesome thing, but not both at the same time.” Christie had both shoes back on again. “Maybe next time. By the way,” she addressed Leah, much to Sloan’s chagrin, “I love your hair. Is it naturally curly like that?”

  Leah nodded. “Nice to meet you, by the way. I’m…”

  Sloan cut her off. “You were on you way out?”

  “No need to be so rude, Maggie.” Christie showed herself out. The door closed, leaving Sloan and Leah in an apartment touched by silence.

  “Who was that?” Leah asked.

  Sloan barely heard her. She
was too busy calculating the disturbing facts adding up in the back of her head. Her, flirting with me. Asking about the relationship between Aaron and me. Showing up in my apartment with a key, when the only other person who has one is…

  She called Sloan Maggie.

  “Um…” Leah said again. “I feel like I’m really out of the loop here. What happened?”

  “Nothing.” Sloan slipped into a more familiar guise. The one that made Leah feel at home in an apartment she now associated with the wildest sex of her life. “I’ve got breakfast on the way. After that, we’ll get dressed and do whatever you want until it’s time for you to head back to O’Hare.”

  Leah grinned. She was so enamored with that prospect that she barely flinched when Sean appeared in the doorway, face flushed white. Right. I called for my security.

  “False alarm, Sean.” Sloan urged Leah to go back into the bedroom. “I need you to look into something for me.”

  “Of course. What happened?”

  She gave him a brief description of what he missed before requesting, “Keep an eye on him today, would you? I trust you to do it more than someone else under my employ. Leah and I will take along one of the backups for our fun later. I want a full report by dinner, even if you have nothing salacious to share.”

  Sean left a few minutes later. Before she and Leah were out the door, Sloan greeted her bodyguard’s replacement, who was sworn to watch over them while they hit downtown Chicago for whatever Leah wanted.

  Sloan wished she could say that she gave her lover undivided attention that day, but her thoughts were locked upon the louse making her scalp itch.

  A louse who shared the name of the only person to make her experience what Leah went through the night before. The one who invaded her subconscious every time she took things a little too far. Which was always, now that Leah was involved.

  Fuck me. Sloan smoked double her usual number of cigarettes that day.

  ***

  “It was amazing,” Leah hissed between the stacks of cookbooks. Melissa was on the other side, intent on finding a beginner’s guide to cooking Thai cuisine at home. “The best sex I’ve ever had.”