“Then I’d stick my cock in you and you’d be filled completely. Both holes.”
“I know. Even considering it is overwhelming. But I think I’d like to try it.”
“And do you know what it would feel like?”
“I can only imagine.”
“Let me help you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
He pulled a butt plug out of his bag. This one wasn’t fancy and jeweled. It was plain and black and he squirted lube onto it before saying in a hoarse voice, “Lean over.”
I did as I was told and felt the cold, gooey lube against my anus, then the hard plastic pushing through my tight opening. He pushed it steadily in and I cried out. It always hurt when he did anything back there. But I’d grown to realize that the pleasure later was worth the initial discomfort. But still, I hated those first few minutes of bottom invasion.
“Good girl,” he said and pushed me down on the bed and flipped me over on my back. He took my ankles and hooked them behind his neck, then slid his cock deep inside me. I was already so wet from talking about my kinky desires that he slid right in.
“God, you’re such a slut. I fucking love it,” he said, pumping his hips into me hard. I could tell I’d really gotten him aroused with my fantasy.
“So, do you think that we could do that?” I asked. That was, after all, the whole reason he’d made me tell him about my shameful ideas.
To my surprise he cupped a hand over my mouth. “Hush.”
A fresh wave of desire wafted over me as he quieted me. I’d always liked the idea of being gagged and this was close. Part of me wanted to try to bite him, but I knew that might get me in more trouble than I bargained for so instead I parted my lips enough to lick his palm, which was unexpectedly erotic.
“You’re a little bitch, you know that?” he growled, thrusting his cock deep inside me, occasionally hitting my cervix, which made me twitch. Such a sensitive spot that hurt and felt good all at the same time.
My muscles clenched around him wildly and a few times I feared I might accidentally expel the butt plug. Even though he hadn’t made a big deal about me keeping it in, I knew instinctively that I needed to keep it in my bottom if at all possible. He was trying to give me a sense of what it would be like to have both holes stuffed and fucked, however mild the simulation would be compared to what it might feel like with a real cock.
The sensation was more intense than regular intercourse, I had to admit. My pussy felt tighter and with every thrust I felt some movement in my rectum, the sensitive nerve endings back there adding to the bliss of the experience.
He rocked in and out of me as I clung to him, the excruciatingly intense pleasure building and building to a crescendo. “I want to come. May I please come?” I begged.
“Yes. And when you do, if you want to push that plug out of your ass you can.”
The sweet rush that accompanied permission. Sometimes I thought the permission he granted me was as divine as any of the physical things he did.
My body drifted to the edge, and when my climax came crashing over me, the intensity of it shook me. With one delicious push, I nudged the plug out of my ass. My orgasm blossomed into another orgasm and another on top of that one. I let out a cry that seemed to come from a place as ethereal as it was primal, and I felt like a naughty nymph who’d found the most exquisite place in the entire forest.
“Wow!” I heard myself say, and started to come back to reality.
Quentin thrust into me a few more times before he emptied himself into me with a groan.
He laughed. “You liked that, huh? We’ll have to get your pearls back out.”
I managed a smile.
“Intensifies the orgasm, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” I panted.
“I’m so glad I uncovered the kinky girl who lives inside you,” he said throwing an arm over me as he lay down next to me.
“Me too,” I said and laid my hand on his leg, enjoying the intimacy between us. These sweet afterglow moments were something I missed when we were apart, so I made a point to cherish them in the moment.
After a few minutes I rolled over and propped up onto my elbow. “So do you think we could do that? Not necessarily in that exact way, I’d want you and BA to orchestrate the scene…but do you think that you and I and BA could get together for a session?”
He let out an exasperated sigh. “Sophie…” he began, then stopped talking.
“Yes. What is it? Would it just be too much?” Disappointment started to well up inside me. It was unfair of him to get me involved in this and then make it off limits. A dismal sense of deja vu washed over me. I’d felt this same way when he refused to meet me in person, when I could only have him over the internet. Now, here we were, in a similar situation. He’d introduced me to the forbidden fruit, but when I acknowledged my true nature, my true desires, he yanked away the possibility of fulfillment from me.
“Sophie, I’m not sure what to say. I hoped we’d never have to have this conversation.”
“What?” He was jealous. Now I was flooded with relief. He must have realized that he would be too jealous to actually share me with another man in real life. The whole thing had been a frivolous experiment, and now he was regretting having me get involved with BA in the first place. It was okay. I had grown to like the idea of a ménage, but mostly because he’d introduced me to the concept of being shared like some treasured sex object.
I liked the idea, but I could give it up if he wanted me to. Because clearly he wanted to have me all to himself, and after all I’d gone through to get to this point with him—that was huge. That was a big deal, and all I ever really wanted was to belong to him one hundred percent.
“Sophie, did you hear what I said?” His voice jolted me from my thoughts.
“Yes. I mean no. I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I said no.
“No, what?”
“No. We cannot have a session with BA.”
“Why? Because you’re jealous, right?” I poked him in the ribs playfully. “You can’t bear to share me anymore. You want me all to yourself, right? I’m glad you realized it. I can’t imagine sharing you with another woman…” I prattled on until he grabbed me by the wrist.
I stopped midsentence and glared at him. “Hey. Why’d you do that?”
“The reason,” he said evenly, “we cannot have a threesome with BA is because he does not exist.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“I’m sorry. What did you say?” Suddenly I felt as though I’d drank one of Alice’s potions. The room started to spin, and I wasn’t sure if I was growing bigger or smaller, but something wasn’t right.
“I said he doesn’t exist. Sit down. You’re wobbling,” Quentin said, trying to help me to the bed. I sank onto the side of the mattress, but I mentally started to take notes where my clothes were. I had to get dressed. Covering myself, I scanned the room for my clothes. I could not have this conversation naked. Somehow the world had turned upside down, and my instincts told me it would never be the same.
“Sophie, are you all right?”
“No, I’m not all right!” I snapped. My head spun, and I gave up on clothes. Instead I grabbed the comforter, curled into a ball, and covered myself with it.
I expected Quentin to keep talking, start some crazy explanation, but he remained maddeningly silent.
Finally, when I couldn’t take it any longer, I popped my head out from underneath the covers and pleaded, “What do you mean, he doesn’t exist? I fucking talked to him every day for weeks, months. What the hell are you saying, you bastard?”
“I made him up.”
That’s what I’d been afraid he’d say and now that he said it out loud my stomach roiled.
Why? Why would he do this to me? To us? “You self-destructive, evil, piece of garbage! Do you just like fucking with my life? That’s all you’ve ever done to me, is fuck with my head.”
“I’m sorry, Sophie.”
I th
rew the covers back and sat up. All the anger over all the times he’d pissed me off swelled into this one moment. I imagined myself running over him with a big truck. I was reminded of the lady in Texas who ran over her husband, then backed up over him, and ran him over again. Suddenly I understood her. “So, who was it? Who was it pretending to be BA? Making me do ridiculous and sordid things to my body at your bidding?”
“It was me.”
My heart threatened to beat right out of my chest. “You are one sick, sorry bastard.”
“I know it.”
That threw me—him admitting he was wrong. Quentin hailed from the school of “I can do no wrong.” That scared me. Maybe he was truly losing his marbles.
“So why the fuck would you do something like that?” Hearing the curse words leave my mouth fueled my rage. Now the son of a bitch was making me talk like him, and it made me hate him all the more. Because that’s what I was feeling—hate. “Why would you trick me like that?”
“I wanted you to see that you could have a D/s relationship with someone other than me. I wanted to dilute your connection with me. Sophie, I’m no good for you. I will only bring you heartache and pain.”
“I can see that.” The dizziness had started to subside, though I still felt like I might hurl at any minute, but I couldn’t stay here, in this room with him. I had to go.
In one swift movement I scooped my clothes off the floor and ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I used the toilet and splashed water on my face, then slowly started to get dressed. But every time I moved too quickly I thought I might throw up.
He knocked on the door. “Sophie, I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”
“Oh, really?” I shrilled.
“Yes. I just thought it would be better if you knew that there was someone else who could be your Dom too, who could fulfill your needs. I hoped that it would dilute your interest in me. That you’d see that you didn’t need me.”
“You thought just any ole Dom would do? I love you. What’s wrong with you?”
He shook his head.
“That’s ludicrous, Quentin. Especially since you were that guy.”
“I never intended for you to know that part. If you’d never have known, it would have all been fine.”
“So, you think lying to me, deceiving me—that’s all just fine?”
“It was for your own good.”
“Wow, Quentin. You are one fucked-up son of a bitch, you know that?”
“I guess I am.”
I blew my nose and ran a comb through my hair. I looked awful, but this was no time for a beauty contest. All I needed were my shoes and my suitcase. I could throw the rest of my things in my bag and go to the airport. My flight wasn’t scheduled to leave until the next day, but screw that. I had to get out of here. I’d switch to the next available flight, and if that meant I had to sleep in the airport, so be it.
A sinking feeling came over me as I realized I didn’t have a car, no way to get to the airport. Crap!
I opened the door and marched to my phone and started typing.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting an Uber.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“The airport. I need to get the hell out of here.”
“I understand. I’ll take you.”
“No.”
“Let me drive you to the airport, Sophie, it’s the least I can do. This is all my fault anyway.”
I looked up at him and my heart lurched. I loved this man with everything I had, but he’d taken my heart out and run over it, backed up, and run over it again. Just like I’d wanted to do to him.
He destroyed me.
Oh, he did it in the name of caring, or some other misguided notion, but he was a wrecking ball of destruction, and I had to get away from him.
Suddenly, I was tired. Exhausted, to-the-bone tired, and the idea of waiting an hour or more for an Uber or a shuttle sounded even more tiring. “Fine.” One last car ride with Quentin would be bittersweet. I could feel tears stinging at the backs of my eyes.
After I finished getting my things together, Quentin offered to carry my bag to the car, and I let him.
As he got behind the wheel Quentin’s lips formed a thin line and he looked like he was trying to make a decision. About what I had no idea.
While we drove to the airport, I expected him to try to plead his case, to give me an explanation for his insane behavior, but he didn’t. Instead, we remained silent during the drive. The whole time I kept replaying over and over in my head my conversations with BA and picturing Quentin on the other end of the line, deceiving me.
Had he laughed at me?
Had he felt even the slightest bit guilty?
Had he cared at all what a complete fool he was making of me?
I couldn’t understand whether he was crazy or just mean. I’d heard of catfishing, I’d even seen a TV show about it. Usually the people doing it had a reason, and they felt justified in their deception. That seemed to be the case with Quentin, but the reasoning he’d given me seemed forced. Bizarre.
I felt like a fool, and he’d broken my heart.
He’d hurt me before. And as much as I loved him, I had to be strong and save myself. He was right. He was only going to make me miserable with his strange mixture of love and domination.
Because he did love me. Or at least I thought he did.
I could have kicked myself for not seeing through his ruse. What an idiot I had been. I should have known there was only one man that twisted, that kinky. Apparently when it came to Quentin I had a blind spot a mile wide. So, as hard as it was, I had no choice but to end things between us.
I didn’t know the way to the airport, so I hadn’t noticed that Quentin was going another direction until he put on his turn signal and pulled into the entrance of a hospital.
“Quentin! What are we doing here? I need you to take me to the airport.”
“I realize that. But there’s something I need you to do first.”
“Really? What are you talking about?” I could feel myself becoming more and more agitated.
“There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Reluctantly, I followed Quentin down the long, beige hospital corridors, a mixture of sickness and too-strong cleaner filled my nostrils as we rounded the corner on the third floor, and he was walking so fast my shorter legs had a hard time keeping up.
When I’d asked him for more information in the car, Quentin had remained tightlipped so I resigned myself to going along with whatever it was he was doing, bringing me to the hospital. I wondered if perhaps he had a relative or friend who was sick. But why wouldn’t he have mentioned them earlier? Especially if it was someone important enough for him to bring me with him to visit. If it wasn’t important that I meet this mystery person he could have visited them after he took me to the airport.
What if it was someone he thought could convince me not to leave him? My heart skipped a beat. Maybe he wasn’t going to let me go without a fight after all.
I tried to calm myself, but I couldn’t help but feel a little surge of excitement that maybe things didn’t have to be over between us just yet. But that only made me feel more pitiful, that I was holding out hope that there would be some way to stay involved with him. That was only setting myself up to be a doormat or a fool to be taken advantage of.
There was no way I could trust him ever again, and that was that.
“Quentin, what are we doing here?”
“Almost there.” He pushed through the doors marked “Intensive Care Unit.”
Our footsteps fell quietly on the parquet floor.
An eerie calm permeated the air in this ward, and the staff members we passed had a serious look to them. Their smiles were genuine but subdued, and I wondered again who in the world we were going to see and why they were hospitalized.
Quentin came to a halt at the central nurse’s station, and to my sur
prise one of the nurses looked up and smiled brightly at Quentin. “Mr. Andrews. Let me see if this is a good time.”
The nurse got up, checked a page on the desk in front of her then started down the hall. “I’ll be right back,” she said to Quentin, who thanked her with a nod.
“If you don’t tell me what we’re doing here…” I hissed into his ear, making one of the other nurses glance up from the computer she was typing on.
Grabbing me by the arm, Quentin wheeled me around and hauled me out of earshot of the nurses. “Give me just a minute, Sophie.”
I pulled my arm away and scowled at him. He was crazy, and I needed to get the hell away from him. But my bag was in his car, so I felt like I needed to wait him out on whatever it was we were doing.
“Room 304. You can go in,” the nurse said coming back.
“How is she? Any changes?”
“No, honey. She’s the same. It’s good of you to come. I’m sure your visits are a help to her.”
Quentin gave her a curt nod and started down the hallway toward room 304. Not knowing what the hell was going on, I followed him. The sooner we got this visit over the sooner he could take me to the airport.
Quentin opened the door and ushered me in before closing it behind him.
Inside lay a girl. She was hooked up to a ventilator and had several tubes and lines running from her body to the various machines. A bag of fluids hung on a pole next to her, dripping its contents into a one of the tubes that was inserted in her body. “Sophie, I’d like you to meet Kaitlyn.”
All of a sudden I felt awkward. I’d expected to be meeting a friend or relative of his. Maybe someone who’d suffered a heart attack or an injury from a car accident. Not…this.
“Who is she?” I whispered, uncomfortable that the girl seemed to be asleep or worse, and here we were in her room. God only knew why. I felt like I was intruding and it took everything I had not to turn and run out the door. “Do you remember when we first met and you asked me about my previous subs?”
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