by Lilly Black
“No bags,” he says tossing the car keys to the other valet, not even waiting for a ticket.
“Very good, Mr. Ballantyne.”
Okay. They know him here. I can torment myself thinking of all the reasons for it, or I can try to keep a level head. The hotel is close to the stadium…where he has a suite… I’m trying, but when Cain is immediately handed a keycard as we walk through the lobby without having to stop, I’m having a little more trouble ignoring the possible reasons.
Please don’t let it be that he has brought so many women here, he has a standing procedure!
“You come here often?” I ask, trying to make it sound like a joke as he leads me past the standard elevators and into a vestibule guarded by a man in a black suit who stops a pair in front of us to see their keycard as he waves Cain and I through to the elevators exclusively for the upper level rooms.
“I come here all the time,” he finally answers my question when the elevator doors shut behind us, but as soon as he sees the reaction on my face, he stops teasing. “I own the hotel, Ev, and before you even think it, I have never brought a woman here.”
“I find that hard to believe,” I say as he presses the button for the top floor.
“My apartment is ten minutes away. Only you could make me this impatient,” Cain says, pulling me to him.
The suite is amazing, but Cain gives me no time to explore, picking me up like a bride and carrying me to a palatial marble bathroom. He takes off his shirt, and though I didn’t see him put it on, the chain with the chastity belt key now hangs from his neck.
“Just to clarify,” he says, holding up the key. “This means you are willing to submit to me, right?”
“Yes, but tonight…”
“Tonight, I’m going to take care of you, Evan. It isn’t all about domination and punishment. Come here.” He sits on the edge of the tub and undresses me slowly, kissing me in the wake of my clothes, chasing my bra past my nipples, pulling me toward his face as my panties drop. When I’m naked, he leads me to the shower and washes me methodically, knowing where a woman should not use the sweet-scented body wash in the small, courtesy bottle from the ledge.
When he’s finished, he detaches the showerhead, rinsing me head to toe, leaving him on his knees before me, the streams of water from the side jets hitting him while I block the main. Relaxed, I lean back against the shower wall as he lifts my right foot, and I suddenly feel a foreign sensation that causes my eyes to fly open wide. I look down and see his tongue on my toes. It’s only at the tips at first, but he soon begins taking them entirely into his mouth, making the same circles with his tongue that feel so good elsewhere. I don’t know if it’s physical or driven by the thought of this powerful man literally worshipping at my feet, but it’s as if there’s a direct line to my clit.
Slowly, he works his way up to my knees, his every touch like electricity shooting up the nerves, flooding me with excitement. When he reaches the top of my thigh, I’m ravenous for what I think is coming next, but instead he turns me around to face the wall. He stands up behind me, twisting my wet hair around his hand, holding it out of his way as he starts kissing my ear, my neck, down my spine, letting my hair fall along with him as he goes. It’s unimaginable torture, and I’m so lost in the sensation that I startle when I feel him biting my ass cheek just below where my hair now hangs free. Then he pulls me away from the wall by the hips, pushing my legs apart, my feet sliding outward on the slick, marble floor until they reach the sides of the stall.
He turns off the water and hits the steam, and as the stall fills with warm mist, I feel him on his knees behind me, his tongue entering me. It seems like such a dirty, forbidden act to me that I’m overwhelmed, moaning softly, urging Cain on. He pulls me backward into his mouth, his tongue somehow finding my clit as his hands grasp my hips, his fingernails dug into my skin as he forces me to let go of any lingering fear that I won’t be able to come like this.
The heavy steam is blinding and the air hot and thick in my lungs as Cain’s magnificent tongue relentlessly assaults me, circling and bearing down on my clit until I’m screaming his name, grasping for something to hold onto as my hands slip down the wet, marble walls. Disoriented by the steam, Cain steadies me with his hands as he keeps pushing me, pleasure and extreme sensitivity coming in alternating waves until one wins out over the other.
Giving me no reprieve, he shoves me into the wall as he rises up my body, his cock, hard as the marble all around us, sliding against my leg until he thrusts it inside me, fucking me as the heat in the stall becomes unbearable. He turns off the steam, and as it dissipates, I realize how much I’m sweating. It’s pouring down my face from my forehead as water drips down my back, but when I look up to find that it isn’t the showerhead, I realize with a white hot flash that what I’ve been feeling isn’t water at all. It’s Cain, raining down upon me as he fucks me, and oh, my God! My eyes roll back in my head and my entire body shudders at the very thought of being bathed in his sweat, bringing me to a sudden, frenzied end.
“Oh, my God, Cain! Oh, my God…oh, my God…” I cry out, high and wild as the orgasm overpowers me. Cain slows his pace, his thrusts becoming deep and deliberate, but I have no patience. I want to make him feel what I feel, like a helpless victim of his decadent will. I push back with my ass, and grabbing his hand from my hip, I guide his index and middle fingers between my legs, gliding over my clit. As I feel his cock tighten inside me, I shove the fingers toward his mouth, and in a low, sultry purr, I order him to suck them. With my taste on his tongue, he thrusts hard one final time, pinning me to the wall as he chants my name like an invocation of an ancient, pagan goddess of sex and love whose sole raison d’être is making him come.
“God, I love fucking you,” he breathes, his face lost in my wet hair as he holds me against the wall, and I echo it, wishing the words were just slightly rearranged.
September 10
Cain and I spent the night at the hotel, and by mid afternoon, we’re in Steph’s car en route to my house. Along the way, I can’t keep thoughts of yesterday at the stadium from invading my mind. I think I remember Elizabeth’s name coming up when we discussed our sexual histories, but I don’t remember his relationship with her seeming particularly significant. He must have been serious about her at one point to make her think a secret purchase at a jewelry store meant he was planning to propose to her.
“Evan,” Cain says as we approach my exit on the 8. “I hate to bring this up, but we need to talk about yesterday.”
I guess I’m not the only one thinking about it.
“We don’t need to talk about it,” I tell him. “It’s already in the past.”
“I need to talk about it. I’ve let it take a back seat because we’ve had much better things to do since we left the stadium,” he says, flashing his disarming smile, “but I need you to know that I’m not pleased with how I handled things. I didn’t hear her come in. I was watching the game through the window, and when I felt someone come up behind me and put her hands over my eyes, I assumed it was you.”
“Makes sense. It’s fine.” I say because it sounds like an excuse to me.
“We both know it’s not fine,” he says. “It’s my fault that Liz didn’t think she was out of line. I’ve been with her off and on for ten years. I essentially broke off an engagement with her just for the chance to pursue you, and based on my track record, she had every reason to believe I would come back to her in the end.” I do not like where this is going, but I persevere, keeping my poker face on until I’m rewarded. Cain pulls to the side of the road.
“I felt sorry for her, baby, guilty and responsible. That’s all it was. Once she started talking about you, I could have thrown her off the deck with no remorse. I know there are no words that can take away what you saw, just please say you understand. Liz is nothing to me, Evan, but you…you’re everything.” I just stare at him for a long moment, not knowing what to say to that. It scares me when he talks like that because al
though I think I am already in love with him, I can’t let myself believe that he could possibly feel the same. I want to believe it…desperately.
“Evan?”
“If you ever do anything like that again, I’ll throw you off the deck,” I make a joke of it.
“So I’m forgiven?”
“You were already forgiven last night.”
“Good,” he says, “because the look in your eyes yesterday in the ladies’ room is something I never want to see again.”
“Well, perhaps if you stopped following me into ladies’ rooms…”
“Not going to happen.” He makes me laugh.
When we get to my house, Cain walks me to the door, and it takes all of my willpower to let him leave. I have to work later, and he has an early meeting in the morning which means he won’t be able to stay with me tonight, and though I’m disappointed and still feeling a little vulnerable, he always knows just what I need to hear.
“If you’d quit your job and let me take care of you, there would never be a night when we couldn’t be together,” Cain says with a wistful smile after an intense goodbye kiss.
“Go to work,” I say, pushing him playfully.
“I miss you already,” he says, and as he walks away, I realize that there is so much I want to tell him - how I feel in this moment, how much he means to me, how changed I am because of him.
“Cain!” I call out involuntarily as he opens the car door, my voice cracking with raw emotion. He turns around, but no words come to me.
“Me, too,” he says with a knowing smile as he gets in the car and drives away.
With Nicole and the car gone, I make the short walk to the convenience store down the street to pick up a few things because our fridge is empty right now except for a bag of lemons and some ketchup, and when I come home, the Jaguar is back out front. I’m excited because Nicole and I have so much to talk about since last night, but when I get inside and find her sitting in my room at the computer, she quickly stands and turns toward me, blocking the screen.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I was trying to find a picture of the harpy since Caleb and I had to hide from her yesterday, and, well…you better take a look.” She moves, and I almost fall back into my desk chair, stunned. On a local San Diego “news” website is a picture taken at the stadium yesterday of Cain with his arms around Elizabeth, and despite what he just told me half an hour ago, his smile looks more like he’s welcoming her than rejecting her. And that’s not even the worst of it! Under the picture is a blurb about wedding bells. I sit, frozen, not knowing what to do. The only person in that room who could tell me if Cain was acting different toward Elizabeth before I came out of the bathroom was Steph, and he’s useless. I replay the entire event in my head from the moment I saw them together, trying to find cracks in Cain’s veneer.
Did he lie to me this morning? What if he has been lying to me all along? What if they’re a couple who gets off on doing shit like this to girls like me? What if he gets me in chains, then brings her in to humiliate me? I feel sick as I question everything I know about Cain.
“Maybe I am what Elizabeth said. Maybe Cain was just mad at her because she showed up right as he was about to get what he wanted from me…”
“Are you nuts? Steph told Caleb…”
“Fuck Steph! I wouldn’t believe a word that asshole said.”
“He didn’t bring those women with him. He ran into them on the way in.”
“Yeah, right.”
“It’s true. Steph and Caleb got the guy they paid to let them in fired after you and Cain left.”
“That doesn’t make up for what he said about me,” I snap.
“I’m not saying it does. I’m just saying that he told us what happened, and you need to remember that Cain chose you.”
“Of course Cain chose me. He was starting to see a return on his investment!” I shout.
“If I had known you’d go off the deep end, I wouldn’t have shown it to you.”
“Then why did you show it to me?” I demand, suspiciously.
“So you could tell Cain.”
“And make myself look even more pathetic? No, thanks!”
“Just talk to him, Ev,” Nicole says as she hands me my phone. I take it, not intending to call, but when I hear Cain’s voice, I realize she already dialed him. I guess she’s over worrying about him being an S&M serial killer. Fucking traitor!
“Hey,” I say into the phone, and though I try to sound normal, Cain reads me like a book.
“You saw it,” he says.
“Yeah.”
“I just hung up with my attorney. The server from the skybox who held the camera, the Grohl’s employee who leaked the information, and the reporter and editor who allowed the picture to run are all being fired as we speak. Would you prefer that they run a retraction, or would you like to pose for a picture with me to show San Diego the real woman in my life?” Though the thought of my face all over the internet horrifies me, the offer promises to lift me from the depth of insane paranoia.
“I’d be happy if they would just take the picture down,” I say.
“It should be down any minute now,” he assures me. “And, baby, I’m sorry this happened. I have arrangements that protect much of my private life from the press, but nothing is foolproof…or conniving bitchproof.”
“I understand,” I say with a laugh, and though I do, I just can’t get past the look on his face in the picture. I know I have to say something or it will haunt me all night long. “But…when was that picture taken?”
“Ahhh. I see. It’s a still taken from a video. She paid a server to shoot it, so she probably looked through thousands of frames to find that one shot. Like I said before, when I turned around, I thought it was you, so I’m sure I was smiling for at least a fraction of a second.” It does look like he was in motion, his sleeve slightly blurred.
“So this was all planned?” I ask.
“I honestly think Liz believed that I had an engagement ring for her and wanted to capture the moment. I’m not defending her. What she said was unforgivable. I just don’t think she even realized you were there until she saw you…” He trails off as I hear Veronica’s voice in the background telling him his 4:00 pm has arrived.
“I have a client here, but I want to see you tonight. I’ll pick you up after work, okay?” Cain asks.
“I thought you had an early meeting tomorrow.”
“Let me worry about my sleep deficit,” he says, and right before my eyes the picture disappears and is replaced by a blank, white screen with the words “404: file not found”. It’s just what I needed.
Evening of September 10
“So?” Nicole asks impatiently after making a quick trip through her section. It’s Tuesday night, and the bar is slow.
“So what?” I ask.
“You were gone all night last night. I know you’re not still holding out on Cain, so quit holding out on me.” I give her a dirty look, but I can’t keep it secret any longer.
“Oh, my God, Nicole! He is so amazing. You have no idea!” The words come flying out of my mouth ahead of my mind, and I don’t even care if she makes fun of me for my all-encompassing, long-suffered, and nonexistent frigidity.
“And?” she asks, and in a low voice, I give her the very briefest accounting of what happened from the time we left the stadium, admitting that it wasn’t the first time.
“You owe me,” she announces.
“It seem you owe me, too,” I say as I see Caleb sneaking up behind her. He taps her on the shoulder.
“Caleb!” Nicole shouts as she spins around, the surprise in her voice only overshadowed by the excitement. “What are you doing here?”
“Sales call,” he says with a wink.
“Can I get you a drink?” I ask.
“Nicole can get it,” Caleb says, and as I notice Cain coming out of the elevator, I suspect he’s already arranged for me to leave work early tonight. Changing my work sche
dule isn’t exactly what I thought he meant about leaving his sleep deficit up to him, but I guess that not wanting any public display of BDSM does not preclude him from taking charge my life outside the dungeon. I should probably be angry about it, but I’ll wait and see if I still feel that way after the blood returns to my head.
“Come,” I say to Cain when we’re at my house, the door locked behind us. Taking charge, I lead him into my bedroom, directing him to sit in the armchair in the corner so I can kneel before him. I begin kissing him in all of the places I forbid him to touch me, stimulating everything but his cock, only allowing it to feel my hot breath when I move from side to side. As I begin lightly tracing low beneath his balls with my fingernails, he slides his hips off the edge of the chair to give me better access, and I push his legs wide apart, replacing my nails with my mouth.
“Oh, fuck, Evan,” he moans while I tease him, swirling my tongue as I begin sucking his balls into my mouth, alternating between them, his cock twitching, begging for my touch. I switch to give it the attention it craves, looking Cain in the eye as I make the head of his cock disappear between my lips, snaking my tongue down the vein on the underside as I take him in deep. I try to go slow, but I lose myself in the tactile sensation of his smooth, stretched flesh, assaulting him, twisting his shaft with one hand, and digging my nails into his thigh with the other until I’ve taken him as close to the edge as I can without going too far.
“Fuck me,” I demand as I stop, and though Cain gives me a stern look at first, he indulges me.
“Yes, Mistress,” he says, standing behind me, his cock against my ass as desperate to be inside me as I am to feel him there, but he tortures and deprives us both, grabbing a handful of my hair, twisting my head to kiss me as he pinches my nipple, making it hurt like I like it.
“Just don’t forget who’s really in charge, little girl,” he hisses, then he spins me toward the bed and pushes me forward until my hands meet the mattress, not letting go of my hair as he thrusts himself into me. The subtle pain as he pulls my hair is like gasoline on the burning need inside me, overpowering all else as he drives into me, hard and vicious, taking me straight to the edge and pushing me over, continuing his arduous rhythm even as I lose my own to the erratic waves of pleasure. I scream his praises, urging him on until I can feel that he’s on the verge of coming, and when he suddenly stops to stave off his orgasm, I get a wicked idea.
