by Cynthia Dane
Her arm circles in front of me, her cheek against my shoulder. I should have brought us drinks, but the candlelight and bubbles will have to be romantic enough.
“I never thought in a million years that you would put something like this together.”
Rarely do I see the ceiling of my bathroom. Can’t say I look up at it very often. Then again, rarely do I soak in the tub. Not alone. If I’m getting in the bath, I want to be with a woman. That’s real luxury.
“You underestimate me,” I whisper into Katie’s ear. “I’m quite the romantic man.”
“Uh huh.” Her lips touch my chest, and I can’t help but wonder what I did to deserve this moment. I thought she would have ran away from me by now.
Especially since she’s acting so submissive.
She probably doesn’t realize it, but the way she defers to my plan, the way she sinks into the tub, and the way she curls around me screams sub. Luckily for her, I can’t really think about it because the feeling of her hand rubbing my skin is lulling me into a light slumber.
I can’t sleep. There are things we need to discuss, and I wait until a few more minutes have passed before broaching the sensitive subject.
“We need to talk, Katie. About the other things.”
Her body tenses in my hold. “Screw you,” she mutters. “Can’t let us have one nice night without bringing that shit up.”
There’s nothing pleasant in her tone. It kills me. “It has to be discussed.”
“Why? You said tonight was about vanilla shit. I don’t want to think about Topping and bottoming, Ian. My thoughts are already muddled with everything else I’m thinking about.”
“Why are you thinking at all? Just relax.”
“What a typical guy thing to say.” Her fingers clench my shoulder. “I don’t know how you men can shut your thoughts off.”
Now it’s my turn to clench her, right on the upper arm. “It’s not a man thing, my dear. It’s also a sub thing.”
“Don’t bring that word up tonight.”
“Katie…”
“Don’t.” The water splashes as she lifts her head and meets my gaze. Her blues are icy flames, and they’re pulling me in, threatening to burn me alive if I say the wrong thing again. “After what happened last time, I want to be myself with you, Ian.”
“What about that wasn’t you?”
She clamps her lips together, blond brows scowling in thought. “Don’t start that shit up. Don’t get you get it, Ian? This is what I want tonight.” Her wet hand gestures to the tub, to our nakedness. “I’m comfortable with you. Don’t compromise it.”
“I’m not going to do anything.” Even if she begged me in bed to get rough and Dom her, I wouldn’t do it tonight, no matter how much my body cried for it. I don’t want to take the risk of driving her away again. Every time Kathryn grows closer to me, something happens to scare her off again. I’m sick of that. I’ve learned my lesson. Please believe me, Katie.
She sighs anyway. Shit, the distance is growing between us again. Good job, Ian. How many times have you freaked her out? This is a good example of why we’re not compatible.
I need to remember that. This isn’t a blossoming romance. This is two stupid idiots trying to make something out of nothing – a negative nothing. Our physical attraction to one another will only take us so far.
“I’m sorry,” she mutters into the side of the tub. “I know you don’t expect anything of me tonight.”
Leaning forward, I wrap both arms around her torso, some of the water of the bath splashing over the side and falling down a center drain. My lips kiss her damp back, licking away the water droplets overtaking her. I’m careful to not touch her breasts or thighs as I embrace her again. I don’t want her thinking I’m trying to dominate her.
Although I would really, really love to.
I got a taste of her innermost self two weeks ago, and now I can only think of having more. She asked me to train her. She asked me, and yet I know deep down that she can barely handle it.
There’s so much pressure. Pressure from her to be kind, gentle, and the exact kind of Dom she needs to fulfill those fantasies lurking in the back of her mind.
And pressure from myself, telling me to forget all that and plunge myself into her again and again.
“We need to talk, Katie.”
Her arms fold on the edge of the bath, her cheek resting on top of her elbow. I draw a line up her spine, but she does not respond. I nuzzle my nose into her messy bun and inhale the sweet scent of the shampoo she used this morning. Even though my tub is big enough for two people, we’re still cramped in here, and turning on my side to indulge in her body means rubbing my soft cock against her.
Keep this up, and it won’t be soft for much longer.
“What the fuck do we have to talk about?” She’s pouting. I bet she’s adorable, gorgeous. If only I could see her.
I’ll have to make do with touching her seductive body.
“We need to talk about us.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve asked a lot of me, and I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
“Do we have to talk about it tonight?”
“Better tonight than when we’re trying to have a scene and you feel pressured into things you don’t really want to do.” Before she can protest, I say, “You wouldn’t think of it that way at the time. You would try to push yourself like you did the other night. That’s where things get scary for you, and I want to avoid that.”
She doesn’t answer. She knows what I mean.
“Katie,” I say softly, pressing myself against her. “Before we can do any of that, I need you to feel absolutely comfortable with me and trust me unconditionally, because I will push you. There will be times you seriously wonder if you should keep going, out of discomfort and fear. Please believe me when I say I only want our most mutual pleasure.”
I kiss her neck, but not hard. I want to give her an opportunity to speak.
“I don’t know what I was thinking when I asked that of you. It’s pretty clear we don’t operate together that way.”
“You are harboring those fantasies that you want to act upon. They will keep building up inside you until they start interfering with your usual life. I’ve seen it many times. With you… it’s very different, because you’re not like most women. You know what it’s like to seek out and feel powerful. Giving up power is hard, I know.”
Katie presses her forehead against the tub. “Why are you doing this? Why are you taking me out on dates?”
This isn’t a question about domination and submission. She’s asking why we’re even here in this tub, and I admit it’s something I haven’t fully thought through.
“Because I like you, Kathryn. I’m not going to deny it any longer.”
My hands touch her, finally, feeling her supple breasts in my hands and the heat between her legs. I’m gentle, but she knows my intentions. Katie relaxes a little. Not enough for me to make love to her here in this tub, though.
That’s all right. That can come later.
I can barely think about what I said. Of course I like Kathryn. Why would I be doing this if I didn’t like her? I’ve had casual sex with many women who didn’t do it for me, but she’s different. I want to be in the bath with her. I want to take her out to dinner and listen to her talk about her family and work. I want to curl up with her like this, feel her warm skin move with her breaths, and listen to her heart beat in her chest as we fall asleep together.
I won’t say it’s love. I’m a practical man, and being with Kathryn would be the most impractical relationship possible.
“I like you too,” she says softly. “But I also kinda hate you.”
I don’t ask for details. Who would want them in this moment?
A part of me understands. I represent a lot of things to her. Fear, foreboding, embarrassment. In a way, it’s the same for me. Well, don’t know if I would
use the word hate…
“You know what I want?” Kathryn picks up one of my arms and tucks it beneath hers, so my hand can curl up and cup her face. I roll against her back, feeling the hot water soothe my muscles while Katie’s body soothes my soul. Nope. Not love.
Definitely not love, whatever the fuck that is.
“What do you want?”
It takes a few seconds for her to confess her innermost desires to me. For her to trust me enough with these words and not make fun of them. At this point I may still give her a hard time about things, but I respect her enough to know that this is not the right time. Instead, I stroke her skin, hoping I can take her to bed soon.
So many plans.
“I want to combat these voices in my head that say I’m somehow weak because you make me feel a certain way. No man has made me want to submit before, Ian. I don’t know what that says about you. I try not to think about it, but I can’t deny that when you grab me, when you growl into my ear, and when you get a little rough with me that I don’t feel so fucking alive. I thought I was ready last time. To explore that side of myself, that is. I realize now that wasn’t the case. Doing that with you requires letting go of everything I thought I knew about myself. As a woman, it’s terrifying.”
“You know that I would never let that leave the bedroom, right?” I am both for and against the idea of a lifestyle relationship for myself. I’ve dabbled in it, and it was fun, but I don’t know if I could handle a sub who needs me to dominate them 24/7. Not just sexually, but telling them how to live their lives and giving them permission to do every little thing. That sounds exhausting.
Not to mention, I like a woman with her own life and independence. They’re much more interesting. So what if two or three nights a week I want to make her kneel down and devour me?
So what?
“I’m not going to think any of less of you, Katie. Not for following your desires and sharing them with me. You’re allowed to be vulnerable around me. You’re not weak. You’re doing what you need to do to be happy. You work so hard to please people and to prove yourself. That’s admirable.”
I hope I don’t come across as condescending. I’ve been accused of that a time or two, and I know that Katie often thinks that about me.
Katie.
I’m the only person who calls her that. The only man.
“It doesn’t matter how much I know that,” she says. “Things are still different. They’re different to me.”
“All right.”
She lifts her head, some of her hair falling from the clasp and landing in the water. She doesn’t care. “I want to still do it, I think. As long as I also get stuff like this.”
I kiss her skin yet again. “You can have it as much as you want.”
It’s not love.
Chapter 6
KATHRYN
The water disappears down the drain. Ian gets out, grabbing a towel and drying himself off as I remain in receding water. His physique is especially handsome in the candlelight. His chest toned, his arms strong, and the lines of his abs curving toward his pelvis. He’s not hard. Well, not there. There’s something vulnerable about a man walking around naked in front of you completely flaccid. Intimate. He’s saying he trusts you to not make fun of him – because let me tell you, Ian Mathers is a grower, not so much a shower.
Better than the other way around?
“Let’s get you dried off,” he says, extending his hand down to me. I take it and am lifted up with hardly any effort on my part. Before I know it, Ian’s wrapped a fresh towel around me and is slowly, tortuously patting my skin dry.
I know what he’s doing. I let him, letting out a moan as I succumb to his backward embrace.
“You’re so soft,” he mutters, the white cloth brushing against my nipples and making them harden. The cloth is soon replaced by his fingers. His lips are on my neck.
“Ian…” I want a name for him, and not “wow, suddenly your cock is hard!”
“Yes?” His hands grip me harder, spreading my legs slightly apart so he can tease my slit.
“Make love to me.”
His groping slows. “Do you want me inside you?”
The towel pats my stomach. “Yes.” My voice is so meek. Whose is it?
It’s the sub’s. She’s coming out to play now that she knows it’s safe.
I let her, but only because it is safe.
Towel wrapped around my body, Ian bends down and sweeps my feet out from beneath me. My hair falls from the clasp, letting it clatter to the bathroom floor as Ian fucking Mathers once again carries me to his room.
I’m not afraid. I’m warm and relaxed, and he’s smiling as if he’s won some great prize.
Me.
Don’t get me wrong. Ian isn’t some super bodybuilder who can pick up fully-grown and average-weighted women like it’s nothing. Oh, he can pick me up, but I can tell any farther than his room and he would have some problems.
It’s okay. We only need to go as far as his room, where he gently lays me on his bed and climbs on top of me.
It’s dark in here. Not black as night, but the candles from the bathroom aren’t bright enough to illuminate this room. It’s enough for me to see his outline, the golden glow of his skin, and the countenance of pleasure he sports.
He’s so fucking handsome, and to think that he’s all mine tonight…
No amount of Mr. Handsomes at the club would be enough to give me the feeling I have.
I don’t know what this feeling is.
Maybe it’s love?
No time to think about it. I’m suddenly awash in heat and desire as Ian smothers me with his body, his mouth on mine and his tongue making an unreal descent down my throat. His big hands hold me down – gently – push into my hair, and cover me all over. I swear he must have five hands. They’re everywhere, rubbing my flesh, squeezing my extra fat, and making me feel like the most beautiful, most desirable woman in the world.
I moan so soon. With my legs spread around him, I can feel my arousal ease from my slit.
I want to be lost in these motions. I want to fade into obscurity, where all I have to think about is his voice as he climaxes, his body shuddering, his words dissipating into my ear. I want to only know what it feels like to be made love to – to make love to someone back. I want it all, because I’m a greedy woman who isn’t happy if I’m not having everything at once.
Except Ian ruins it for a single second. He bites my nipple, making me moan so loudly that it feels verboten. Then he licks my earlobe, his voice grating.
“I’m taking you, Katie. I’m going to fuck you with my bare cock again.”
These shudders I feel aren’t of pleasure. I’m flashing back to the last time we had sex, when that voice inside of me betrayed my trust. It said I wanted it. It said I wouldn’t have a problem letting him claim me.
It lied.
“Okay…” I want to feel his skin inside me – that, at least, was exhilarating. But… “Will you pull out?”
He’s kissing my throat, hard, leaving a mark that I’ll have to cover for days. “Do you want me to pull out? Do you want me to come on your thigh instead?”
His voice is droll, but in the dim candlelight I can see that classic Ian Mathers smirk on his face. What a time to reference that day. “I don’t want to be scared.”
“You have nothing to be afraid of. This isn’t BDSM, darling. This is me wanting to share the most intimate thing with you. Just like this whole night. I’m not your Dom. I’m the man you’re making love to.”
“I don’t know…”
“Babe.” That tone is almost admonishing, and yet I gravitate toward it. Ian, you’re destroying me. “We can’t move forward with anything else until we get past this.”
I know he’s right. When we have a scene soon enough, he’ll want to do one of the most basic things a Dom does. Namely, he’ll want to come inside me, and I’ll have to be able to handle it.
“Do you want my cock, Katie?”
I close my eyes, feeling him all around me. His scent. His body. His warm voice pushing me to my limits. “I want you inside me, yes…” I’m empty between the legs. Ian’s hovering dangerously close, hard, unprotected, and ready to fuck my stupid brains out.
When I think of it that way…
“Katie…” His kisses return to my skin, overwhelming me with a burning need to be conjoined. Everything inside me aches to know him. To feel him. To take what he has and transform myself into someone I barely know. “Katie!”
I shriek, in desire and surprise, as Ian drives himself into me.
We’re gone.
It’s so instant. It’s so animalistic. Not just him, but me as well. I want him. I want this unadulterated feeling of fullness that overtakes me, my opening parting to take his whole length in one stroke. It hurts. It invigorates me.
I’ve been wanting this all night. I’ve been wanting this all week.
I’ve been wanting this ever since I first met him.
The man knows how to fuck. From the moment he’s inside, he’s working me, his hips relentless against my thighs as the head of his cock reaches for my G-spot. I’m wetter every time he even slightly pulls out. My hands are above my head as he holds them there and pummels me below. The sweet heat of his skin is undoing me. God! What is it about this man that makes me do things I never thought I would?
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He loves telling me that. I can’t say I want him to stop.
My hands brace themselves against his shoulders. Ian goes between staring into my eyes and closing his own, losing himself to the movements we create together. Because it’s not just him. It’s me, fucking him as much as he’s fucking me. The easier he slips into me, the more I want him. Shit! It sounds so good. The melody of his skin plunging into my folds, my cunt so fucking wet that it only serves as an intense reminder of what we’re doing.
