by Cynthia Dane
His large hands cover my chest, my throat, the bottom of my face. No matter what, I’m touched by Ian, the man who has declared his love for me and his intent to possess every part of my being.
Yeah, I think I could keep him for a while. The rest of my life, sure.
“This woman is mine. I’ll spend however long it takes to free her from the guilt and shame she feels deep inside. In turn, I’m sure she’ll purge me of my insecurities too.”
The audience is silent.
“What do you think, Katie? Are you up for the challenge?”
Somehow, through the pain and the burning agony of my guilt, I say, “I thought you would never ask… sir.”
He pulls me up into his arms, my own looping around his neck as he bends me down and kisses me, hard. Here we are, two fucked up people trying to make the best of our personalities and situation. We know it will be hard. We know there will be moments where our attitudes clash and we’ll need to cool off for a while. I’ll feel insecure and he’ll overcompensate. But, you know, there is no such thing as the perfect couple.
I think we’re pretty darn close, though.
So does the audience, who politely applauds.
As my leg brushes against Ian’s erection – what, you think he’s gonna whack me with a crop that much and not get rock hard? – he lifts me off the ground and carries me off the stage. I may have my initials emblazoned in bigass letters on his back, but right now I solely belong to him and rely on whatever comfort he can give me.
You know, like crazy intense sex.
Ian doesn’t wait to get us a room. This is the man who didn’t bother to pick up our clothes we dropped on the stage. Nope. He’s taking me to an empty hallway near the restrooms, where I’m shoved against the wall, my legs spreading around his waist and his cock driving into me once the crotch of my corset is opened.
We’ve come full circle. From the closet of the gala twelve years ago, to that corner in his family’s office building, Ian and I have the kind of sex we’re best accustomed to. Him, taking me against the wall, and me, encouraging him to worship every part of my body.
You know that cliché trite about how two people seem physically made for each other? Well, I won’t give you any lines about how his cock fills me so perfectly that it’s like he was blessed with that damned thing just for this moment. I won’t tell you that the way he thrusts, holds me, and plants his lips on mine is the exact way I love and need. I won’t even tell you that hearing and seeing him become so consumed with me is like ascending the stratosphere and marching my way to heaven.
I won’t tell you these things because they are cliché and trite. That, and I don’t really believe that two people are “made” for each other. I believe that we find each other through happy accidents. Like the happy accident that made me born the privileged daughter of a multi-millionaire, now billionaire. Or the happy accident that was Ian’s mother inviting me to work on a project with her son, a man I’ve fancied for a long time but never thought to pursue.
Thank God he held my hand that night.
“Ian!” My sore ass is slammed against this wall, but shit I don’t care. I’m wet, I’m ready, and for the love of everything quaking inside me I need this man to finish every job he started twelve years ago. I don’t even care if he comes inside me anymore. For fuck’s sake, I let this man come in my ass!
His tongue meanders from my mouth to my throat. His thrusts slow, yet he’s still merciless, pounding me as my nails sink deep into his bare skin. I’m about to scream.
Instead, I let out three consecutive wails of tortured pleasure. My core clenches around Ian’s cock, and I swear to fucking Aphrodite or whatever bitch is in charge of this shit that I’m not letting go until he gives me every last drop of him.
I’m not disappointed.
Hey, maybe it’s me. As in maybe it’s me being so fucking irresistible that this man, who has declared his love for me very publically, comes the hardest I’ve ever heard him. Not just his voice, either. I’m drenched inside, my body opening more and more to take what he’s unloading in me. If I purged myself out there with a crop, then he’s here purging himself with my pussy. Can’t say I find that unfair.
Quite the opposite. It’s so seriously hot that after his second shot I’m screaming, my head smacking against the wall as I hold onto his shoulders for dear life. I’m convinced I’m going to fall to the floor, even though this man I was stupid enough to fall in love with has me held fast against the wall for the sole purpose of pumping his cock into me.
The last thing I taste is his tongue on mine. The last thing I hear is his languished groan as he finally comes down from his orgasmic high. The last thing I feel is his cock easing out of me, leaving behind an emptiness I don’t want to acknowledge. An emptiness left gaping enough to make the floor beneath me a mess. It’s me, it’s him – all right, mostly him – and it’s 100% us.
“Fuck it all,” Ian groans, slamming his hand against the wall as his head falls against my shoulder. “I’m in chaos.”
“Aw, my poor baby.” Even though I’m sore, even though I’m exhausted, and even though the hole Ian Mathers decided to stretch without any warning is making its own mess all over the place, I get back on my knees and wrap my lips around his softening cock. It’s the least I could do for my Dom.
He grunts from the overstimulation so soon after a hard orgasm. I’m gentle, avoiding his most sensitive areas as I clean him from his shaft and tip. He gets hard again a little, but not enough for him to take me again. That’s more than fine. As his sub, I’m more than happy to serve him like this without expecting any reciprocation.
Hey, I mostly do it out of love.
“Come here.” He yanks me up, kissing me, unashamed of tasting himself all over my mouth. Our lower halves may be too tired to continue, but our upper halves are more than eager to make love… regardless of how rough or ridiculous it may be. “Did you mean what you said about feeling guilty about being a woman?”
I can’t believe he’s bringing this up now, but I go with it. “You know what I mean…”
“Yeah, but if you weren’t a woman, we would have never found each other. So don’t feel ashamed about that, Katie. You being a woman is one of the best things about you.”
I kiss him again. This time I’m the one mauling his lips and scratching his bare skin.
It’s not until I see someone out of the corner of my eye that I pull away from Ian and smile at our voyeur.
“Like what you saw?” I ask Eva’s date, who is much more petite now that she’s not on the second floor. She looks to have come from the women’s room, and I don’t doubt she decided to stop and watch the show. “Tell your date all about it. For me.”
The young woman raises an eyebrow before scooting off.
“And tell her to fuck you half as good tonight!”
“Now, now,” Ian gently reprimands, pushing me against the wall again. “No need to be so intense… with anyone other than me.”
“I’ll be intense with whomever I please, sir.” The closer I feel to him, the more I want to test his patience. Especially in private.
“I’ll hold you that, my darling.”
He kisses me. The rest of the night is a blur I hope to never wake up from.
Chapter 30
IAN
“Sit still,” Kathryn says, scraping my razor up the side of my face. “I don’t want to cut you and watch you bleed all over my sink.
I’m trying to wash my hands without getting my rolled up sleeves too wet. This is what I get for telling her I don’t plan on shaving for another two days. I will have you know that Kathryn Alison is perfectly fine with my stubble when it’s rubbing against her pussy, but for some reason it’s not okay for watching a movie.
Honestly, I think she gets off on shaving me.
“I cut myself all the time. What’s the difference if you do it?”
Kathryn puts the razor down and wipes cre
am off my face with a white hand towel. “The difference is that this is my sink and I don’t want your DNA all over it. What’s going to happen if you turn up dead and the police see how much blood of yours is in my bathroom? Boom. I’m in prison.”
“You’re loaded. You can afford a good lawyer.” I shrug, taking the towel from her hand so I can finish up in her stead. She rolls her eyes and grabs the aftershave I keep here. Haha. I keep aftershave here. If you’re a man, then you know how serious that makes our relationship. I’ve got her tampons in my bathroom and I’ve got aftershave here. We’re practically married.
And my cat has a plethora of new toys whenever she sneaks into my bathroom and opens that cupboard. You ever seen a cat stalk around your house with a tampon in its mouth? It’s a trip.
“Besides,” I continue, as Kathryn smacks my face with aftershave, “I hear some good shit happens in those women’s prisons. Good lesbian shit.”
“You think I could run some BDSM ring in there?” Kathryn puts the aftershave away and picks up a hairbrush. She tackles her scalp with more force than I give her ass when I spank it. Ouch. “I could be the Monica Graham of the state pen. Get me some girls, some patrons who pay in cigarettes, and watch the cash roll in. As cigarettes, of course.”
“Of course.”
Kathryn pulls a wad of blond hair from her brush before tossing it aside. Tonight she’s wearing a white one-piece that sparkles in the soft lights of the bathroom. We’ve come back from dinner, her treat. I plan on treating her to something else later.
We give and take, Kathryn and I.
It’s been over a week since her debut in The Dark Hour. Since then, I’ve become the envy of every Dom I know – take that, Henry Warren – and she’s not seen a blip in her social life. Although she keeps mumbling something about someone named Dawn Lovett, whoever she is.
Things are going well. Kathryn and I have found balance in our relationship. She continues to submit to me on a semi-regular basis, sometimes planned in advance, and oftentimes as a byproduct of the mood we’re in. I’ve learned to give up control as well. Like letting her pay for dinner without raising a fuss. Hey, I can get used to free food.
She’s talking about me getting a tattoo on my shoulder, though. Something like “Property of Kathryn Alison,” and, uh, we’re going to have a long talk about that. I know how this works. You get a tattoo with your girlfriend’s name on it, and the next thing you know you’re getting an artist to somehow turn it into your mom’s name.
Oh, speaking of, my mom and dad are back together for the time being. Don’t get too excited. This is like the third time since the divorce. Kathryn and I have a friendly bet on who will cheat first. Although last I heard from the Queen of TMI, the older Mathers are shopping around the Château for a mistress like the Andrews have. Ew. I’m never going back there again.
“Once we have some time tomorrow,” Kathryn begins, flicking the hand towel against my shoulder, “we need to talk hotel business. My dad’s gonna jump all over my ass the moment the council approves the museum, and I need your input.”
“Oh, no, we’ll be working together even still!” Business is going well. We still get a few protestors, but most of them have shrugged and given up. Doesn’t help that half of them came in looking for a job. “Mayhap we shall find new places to copulate, Ms. Alison.”
“Why, Mr. Mathers,” she says, putting on a fake Southern Belle accent. With her dress and hair, I almost believe it. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re trying to compromise me.”
“Darling, you’ve been compromised every which way to Sunday by now. I don’t think you’ve got an orifice left for me to penetrate for the first time.”
“Not true. I’ve got a left ear.”
“When did I fuck the right one?”
“That one time I blew you and popped off your dick too late. Remember? Almost had a There’s Something About Mary moment.”
“I said penetrate, not get cum in.”
“Who said we can’t pursue both? You’ve got some holes I could fill yet.”
My ass clenches. Yeah, I don’t think so. I will do a lot of things for Kathryn, but pegging is about as appealing as bathing in liquid lava. Actually, I’d take the lava. I don’t care how good prostate stimulation is supposed to feel. No. No.
Okay, okay. Maybe one day. On her birthday. Ten years from now. Ask me about it then. Actually, don’t ask. I’m gonna conveniently forget riiiight… now.
“Anyway, when you’re not thinking about ejaculating into my ear, how about we go start the movie? Think I’ll slip into something more comfortable.”
“And this isn’t comfortable?” I brush my hand against her dress. “Because I could take it off for you.”
We haven’t had sex yet today. Of any kind. I know! Our game is losing ground. Pretty soon we’ll be looking for a mistress too to keep the spark alive.
Heaven help us.
“As helpful as that would be,” Kathryn says, shrugging me off her. “I was thinking more along the lines of a T-shirt and some pajamas bottoms.” She pats my arm. “You can stay dressed like this, though. Looks good on you.”
“Oh, sure, make me stay in the itchy clothes.”
“The more you wear scratchy clothes, the more likely I am to take them off you and suck your dick during the boring parts of the movie.”
“Why would we watch a movie with boring parts?”
She glares at me, that hint of a Domme gleaming in her eyes. “So I can suck your dick, dumbass.”
“Oh. Better pick a real snore then.” I follow her out of the bathroom. “If it’s really boring you might get a turn on the couch too.”
Kathryn opens a dresser drawer and gestures for me to unzip her dress. My pleasure. “There won’t be enough time. I’m ringing you up and blowing you for like forty-five minutes.”
That sounds… painful. “Ringing me up, huh?” I slowly lower her zipper as she picks out a cute white T-shirt. She better not wear a bra beneath that. I wanna flick her nipples while we watch this long and boring background-noise-to-sex movie. “Is that what you Dommes are calling it these days?”
“Absolutely. I’ve got you a brand new one. It’s got ridges.”
“Oh, Lord.” I don’t know if I’m intrigued or scared.
Just as Kathryn is about to shimmy out of her dress, her doorbell rings.
“Mother fucker,” she mumbles, smacking my hand until I zip her back up with a sigh. “This is what I get for taking my ban off visitors. I did that for you, you know.”
“You could’ve okayed your assistant and me.”
“It gets complicated then.” Kathryn fluffs her hair and smoothes out her dress. “Keep your dick in your pants while I deal with this.”
“What would I be doing with my dick without you?”
She steps into the maw of her apartment. “I dunno. Playing with yourself. Shit guys do.”
“You know, what would this world be like if we made the same observations about women?” I don’t care that she’s shushing me so she can answer her door. “‘Put your pussy away, Kathryn, we’re in church.’”
Yeah, that’s the last thing any of us hear the moment she opens the door.
I wish I had kept talking.
Because fuck who is caught pounding on the door and then spilling into Kathryn’s apartment, teeth bare and ready to fucking bite.
“Oh hell no!” Kathryn latches onto Stephanie’s arm and attempts to drag her back into the hall. “Get the fuck out of here!”
I intervene, but only because Stephanie looks like she’s out for blood and about to claw out Kathryn’s eyes. Which would be a shame, because my Katie has the most gorgeous eyes you’ve ever seen.
Next thing I know, Stephanie May breaks free from our hold and lands most unceremoniously in the middle of Kathryn’s living room floor. As I’m about to kneel down and fetch her, all the while telling Kathryn to call security, I get… a wad
of spit in my face.
Classy.
“Fuck you, Kathryn Alison!” Stephanie struggles to get back up. “I don’t know how you found out about me, but fuck you.”
I raise my hand. “That was my mother. You stole her ex-husband. She was pretty pissed.”
“I don’t care who it was!” Has she been drinking? Either that or crying a fuckton. Probably both. She’s lost a lot, recently. “It’s because of her that my career is ruined and I’ll never get work again.”
“Uh, no, pretty sure that has to do with you being a shitty mother and a big fat liar.” I watch Kathryn shut the door with a look of “Why do we have to do this?” on her face. “I mean, really? Lying about your age by a whole ten years?”
“What’s wrong, Ian?” Stephanie stumbles where she stands. “Pissed that I’m actually older than you?”
“Nah, but you lied about it. You had to have known there was no way you would keep that… wait, how is this Kathryn’s fault?”
Stephanie cackles. And I mean cackles. Like, has this woman been appearing in movies as witches and banshees when I wasn’t looking? When we dated, Stephanie was poised, flirty, and fun. I wouldn’t have dated her otherwise. Is this how she really is? Is this the bullet I dodged when I shouted Kathryn’s name while dick-deep in this other woman? Wow. What a fateful night.
I apparently owe Kathryn a lot.
“You mean she hasn’t told you?” Kathryn steps forward, but Stephanie continues. “Your slutty girlfriend has been paying me off to keep my mouth shut. Until she wasn’t paying me anymore. Then I had to let the tiger loose, if you know what I mean.”
I look at Katie, but one thing sticks out to me. “It was you who leaked us to the press?”
“I had to! I told Blondie that if I didn’t keep getting my money, I would tattle on her kinky lifestyle. Though I’ve heard you’ve done that on your own recently.” Stephanie continues to laugh, a little maniacally, a lot of levels of weird. “You two really deserve each other.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“Really?” When Stephanie narrows her eyes at you, it’s almost as scary as when Kathryn does it. “You think it’s not uncouth to say the wrong woman’s name during sex?”
