There was a knock on the door heralding the doctor, and she watched him walk away, silent and stiff, with his jacket held closely in front. Makenzie smiled and thought at least she wasn’t the only one on fire from their encounter.
* * * *
Charyn knew he needed to get somewhere away so he could rub it out without her scent clinging to him. But he wasn’t one for flashing innocent people his manhood, and would rather not go to jail for it. He looked at her face, and the blue balls he suffered were worth it. She was just so beautiful when she came. When he saw her, control became almost impossible, leaving him just a hair shy of coming in his jeans. Her face flushed, eyes wide open, this incredibly helpless look in her gaze. Almost like she was sorry she had to come at all and end their hasty liaison.
A knock at the door cut the tension building between them, allowing the passion to dissipate in the atmosphere.
“Come in.” Mak’s voice sounded shaken.
The doctor came in, and Charyn took the distraction the woman presented and exited the room with a tersely spoken, “I’ll be back.”
He sauntered out, gait hobbled slightly by his hard cock, hidden by his carefully positioned jacket. Leaving the hospital by the front entrance, he walked to his SUV, a large special-edition Hummer with darker-than-legal tinted windows. He climbed in, removing his cock from his jeans in seconds. Stroking himself, he rubbed his frustration out. Visions of Makenzie spurred him on, the taste of her lips, and the hoarse cries spilling from her lips carrying him to a quick peak.
The release, bittersweet and intense, came with her name falling from his lips. Cock spurting, the waiting napkin caught his sperm. The seeds of his progeny, and Charyn decided at the next opportunity he would shoot them straight to her womb. Grunting, he cleaned his member with a few swipes of another coarse napkin. Composing himself, Charyn opened the door, and headed back where he came from. The best part was the fact she wanted him, too, and now he knew just how much. Now that he saw how sweetly she responded to his caresses, he would not let her go. She was so sensitive and sweet in her responses to him. His cock started to get away from him again, so he trained his thoughts elsewhere for the walk back.
When Charyn strolled in the room, he heard Makenzie and Dr. Wellington talk a few minutes about her care after she left the hospital. She was advised against the usual things, stress, heavy lifting, heavy drinking, and no work for at least eight days, as that was the minimum for an FMLA claim. Once she ate the breakfast that followed the doctor in, and the nurse checked on her, she could go home. He saw she was grateful to be able to see her own bed soon, as she quickly ate the simple breakfast. The meal seemed too small to him, watching her opt for only cereal and applesauce and take the time to drink an extra glass of water.
Shortly after she finished her Spartan meal, there was a knock at the door. Bidding whoever stood at the door entry, it opened, revealing Charli was back.
“Hey boo, I dodged back to bring you some clean gear,” Charli said, motioning to the Juicy Couture bag at her side. “Brought your hair pick, some makeup, T-shirt, jeans, and your twenty-year-old flip-flops.”
Laughing, Makenzie replied, “You just saved my life. I just knew I was gonna have to put them dirty clothes from last night on my clean body. Good news is I can go home in about an hour.”
“Excellent, that will give me time to hit the store up. I’ll be back to pick you up in a few then.”
Charyn interjected, “I can do that, since I am already here.”
“Okayyy.” Charli looked at a loss. Charyn saw her glance at Makenzie to make the final choice, but both of them appeared confused. “That will be just fine with me. I’m cooking curry chicken tonight, so don’t be too tardy, will you?”
As Charli walked to the door backwardly, another knock at the door warned of another person signaling for entry. Turning about, she pulled the door open and backed up as a basket wearing a small sprite of a person stumbled in the doorway. The basket was gigantic, filled beyond the brim with a hodgepodge of things, covering the face, chest, and half of the hips of the deliverer. “Hullo, is this the room for a Ms. Stafford-Johns? Where on earth should I sit this monstrosity? Thing weighs more than my Mini. Blast it!”
* * * *
Makenzie saw the deliverer was a woman who appeared to be in her fifties, well preserved, with bright, clear skin faintly mapped with wrinkles at the eyes, a short-cropped Mohawk of hair, auburn all over but frosted blond on the tips by the front. She was fashionable, her wiry figure sheathed in brown leggings and knee-length olive sweaterdress. The diminutive lady prattled, a little busy bee freeing herself from the excessively sized basket. The basket was heavy, if the thump it made was any indication.
“By gad, I knew I was gonna throw my back out with that absurdly large thing. Knew I was in for it when my trunk wouldn’t close on it. I ended up using a bunch of bungee cords to keep it in the car for the ride.”
Mak, desperate to stop the insane prattling, spoke up. “I’m Makenzie. Thank you for delivering my basket. If you’ll just give me a moment, I can give you a tip.”
“Nice to meet you, too. I’m Marge. A tip won’t be necessary, as my boss footed the entire bill. Tip included.” Eyes twinkling, she looked away. “Isn’t that right, Charyn?”
The look on said man’s face spoke volumes, disgust the most prominent. “I know my directions were much simpler than that monstrosity. I know I didn’t tell you to add all that stuff to that basket either.”
“But, Charyn, really? You shouldn’t have given me leave to make it on my day off with vague directions then. Better luck next time. By the by, you owe me double time for three hours. Now the random weekend call makes sense. I can see why you’re here.” With that, the jabber-jawed pint-sized tyrant skipped out, grin on her face showing she knew chaos was left in her wake.
“Ummm…Charyn, two questions. Who was that? And what is that?” Mak asked, barely able to hold back her laughter.
Charli, in similar shape, barely holding her composure while leaning against the wall, said, “I think that was my cue to leave. But sistah knows one thing. It won’t fit in my car.” Visibly pulling herself together, she took her leave, keys in hand.
“That was Marge. She’s my personal assistant. Before you ask, yes, she is always like that. To the second, I asked her to get a basket with a few things, definitely not that ridiculous thing,” Charyn replied.
“Either way, its mine and I want it. I can’t wait to get it home and look at my stuff.” Mak grinned at Charyn, her voice a high-pitched sing-song.
Grabbing the bag Charli brought, she walked into the bathroom to change her clothes. She pulled on her favorite tee, a soft red shirt with white print that proclaimed, “It’s not you, it’s me!” faded relaxed-fit jeans, and leather flip-flops. Picking out her fro, she made a puff ponytail, debating if she should put on any makeup. Thinking of the man she had in the room was the deciding point, no matter how achy she felt. A few strokes of mineral powder, a quick swipe of gold eye shadow, and a touch of gloss were the extent of what she felt like doing. That done she was ready to go, but nerves had her leaning at the door breathless for a few moments more. A knock at the door had her leaping back, then laughing at herself. She heard Charyn speak a muffled, “Are you ready?”
The only response she could give was, “Yes, I’m coming now.” Although self-preservation begged her to run, she wanted to say yes. The only ending to their story was heartbreak. Mine, to be exact. What on earth was she going to do with a man like him?
Chapter 5:
Let’s Talk About Sex
The ride home was thankfully uneventful, silence broken only by a recorded voice emitted by the GPS system. As they pulled in front of her home, Makenzie tried to climb out, but a hand stopped her. The clasp of his hand was firm and warm on her bicep, swallowing the whole of it. She looked over, meeting his gaze for the first time since he touched her that morning. Her breathing quickened audibly, but his did, too. She felt no sham
e at the words unspoken between them, or even how easily he had to see through her.
She cleared her throat, asking, “Would you be so kind as to carry my basket inside?”
His response was only a quirked brow which seemed to say, “You thought I wasn’t?”
Mak smiled back and turned to open her door. The hand gripping her didn’t let go, and exasperated, Mak looked over. “Charyn, what is it?” He still didn’t speak, just shook his head twice. He climbed out of the large SUV, walking to her door, and opened it, letting her out. He stuck his hand out, taking possession of her keys.
Charyn opened the duplex door from the hall entry and tugged her inside. When the door was closed, sealing them away from the world, he pounced. Grasping a hand in each of his, he looked her in the eye, then at her lips. “May I?” She was still nodding her head, giving consent, when he kissed her. Her hunger for him had to be evident, as when he stepped back, Makenzie felt herself sway left. Charyn’s eyes grew darker, and with a scorching look, he swept her up. He placed her on the couch, making sure to seat her in the crook of the sectional.
Standing at his full height, Charyn told Mak, “I’m going to get the basket and your bag.” He walked swiftly, leaving the door ajar as he walked out. The moment he left, Charli swept in, speaking before she got in the door good. “Is he staying for dinner? Now you know your girl, I had to see what was in that basket. I was taking a chance though…”
“On what, Charli?”
“That your natural curiosity would get the better of you, and you would be in that parade float of a basket before you came home. Duhhh.”
“You’s an asshole, girl.”
Speaking of the basket, it walked in the door, Charyn closing the door with a foot.
“Here’s your bag. And this…” Makenzie watched him look askance at the basket cradled in his big hands. He sat the basket in the living room, right in the middle of the large pistachio-colored shag rug.
“Cool!” Both Mak and Charli dived in, pulling apart the large gold ribbon holding the cellophane around the basket. About three feet tall, the thing was really a woven picnic basket, but the items inside forced the lid open. On top rested a clutch of wild blooms wrapped in twine. Under those were myriad items, no rhythm or rhyme to them. Godiva chocolates next to a hip-hop album, a tablet computer lay next to a bag of French roast coffee. Digging deeper in the basket, there was more. Williams-Sonoma muffins, Ibuprofen, and a Barnes and Noble gift card were the next unearthed. Scones, Ciroc, and…
“Beviamo!” Both ladies on their knees on the floor squealed simultaneously.
Charli got up. “Don’t touch anything else. Imma grab us some glasses for our libations.”
Laughing, Makenzie said nothing, sitting on her hands but peeking one-eyed in the basket.
“I told you not to do that. Tsk tsk tsk.” Charli stood over the basket and handed out glasses as she poured them, first to Makenzie, then Charyn, last for herself.
“You didn’t say nuffin bout looking though.”
Mak looked up and saw Charyn smile, apparently getting his kicks watching her get giddy over the selections in the basket. He asked, “Makenzie? Where’s your bathroom?”
Looking up at him, she said, “Down the hall, to the left.”
For Makenzie and Charli, everything in the basket was fun, until one of them pulled a sack out. No larger than a pillowcase, it was bright red and drawn closed at one end with a rope drawstring. Makenzie shook the bag and, stumped, untied the end. The first item from the sack was super-soft cord, extra long, black, and heavy enough to be rope. Next, the bag dropped several jeweled clamps with rubber coating the blunt teeth. Finally, Mak just upended the bag in the floor, watching the remaining items fall out. “Supersized dildo, massage lotion, lube, and I don’t know what the hell these are!”
Gesturing to the last item, Charli replied, “Ben Wa balls, honey.”
“I don’t want to know how you knew that.”
“I hope you won’t find out how I know. That’s just a bit personal, TMI. I just have one question. You gonna give him what these items are asking for Mak?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do. I think that you and he need to have a nice talk about BDSM, Mak. Marge knew what went in that basket. She made it. She doesn’t know you to think you would like this, so it has to be about him.”
“But I’m not into that.”
“But you’re into him, and he’s like that. I’m going to get this naan bread going. I’ll knock when dinner is ready.”
“Why is it when stuff goes buck wild, you’re out?”
“’Cause you grown, girl. That’s why.” Grabbing a muffin, Charli left, closing the front-entry door behind her.
* * * *
While in the bathroom, Charyn took a moment to reflect on a few things. Mainly that he may just owe Marge more than double-time. She had been talking about her and Sal going on their 24th anniversary cruise to Europe. Next, thinking about the mischievous, childlike side he saw to Mak, he could see her laughing when he finally played with her, twined within his ropes.
Charyn rounded the corner just in time to hear the end of the conversation about the last items found in the basket. He wouldn’t have had their discussion about the lifestyle begin like this, but better this way than not at all or after they were in too deep. He stepped out and saw Makenzie was still seated in the floor, nipple and clit clamps in her hand.
Looking at him in the eyes, Mak asked, “Hmm, you think these are my size?” He noticed her humor at the situation, eyes glinting with suppressed mirth as she held the clamps up to her ears.
“Never thought to use ’em like that.” He smiled, taken aback at her cavalier attitude.
“So this is what you want from me?” The words were raspy, and he heard the brush of air scraping her throat as she inhaled.
“No, this is what we need from one another, Mak.”
“I’ve never—”
“I know that. I can taste you, though. The need burns in you that strongly. Come here.”
Standing on weak legs, she crossed the room, meeting him halfway.
“You follow my commands so effortlessly, gracefully. I barely have to speak the words.”
Breath shallow, she leaned into his embrace. He walked her to the sofa, removing his shoes. Seating himself along the chaise end of the microfiber, he tugged her into the gap between his legs, back to chest. He inhaled into her hair and began speaking, tone hypnotic.
“The major tenets of bondage play are as follows. I expect you to obey me during play. You control how far we go with the use of your safe word. Last, play is first and foremost safe, sane, and consensual only. Aftercare is just as important as the playtime we share. I know you have questions, and I will try to answer them all. Bear in mind some things can only be shown, not taught.”
“Am I to call you Massa?” He could see Makenzie barely kept a straight face when she asked.
“Depends on if you want a spanking or not.”
“How does it work? Am I your slave all the time?”
“No, just sometimes when we are going to make love, or barring that, anyplace with a bed or surface I can take you on.”
“That sounds reasonable. Do others know that you…”
“Like to dominate women to get my rocks off, you mean? No. Just Marge and a few others in the scene do.”
Laughing into his chest, she queried, “Will you hurt me?”
“I may spank you, but I would never permanently harm you.”
She began breathing faster, heart racing.
“What does safe, sane, consensual exactly mean? I get what the words mean, but how do they relate to BDSM?”
“It means safe play. Some things, while erotic, if you are not properly trained, could seriously harm someone. Sane, since insanity would create a hazardous environment, and again one of the parties could come to harm. Consensual, since anything less is rape.”
“What if I am sc
ared and don’t want to play anymore? Would you stop then?”
“As I said before, you as the submissive will control all play. The safe word lets you feel free to beg me to stop, without having me actually do so. The word would be something you wouldn’t say during sex, but can easily remember.”
“Would you leave me if I used it?”
“No, it just means the scene would stop. We would talk about what feelings you had that scared you into stopping. Depending on what the reasoning is, it will adjust the play we have later. It may be that you’re out of your comfort zone and need coaxing to take you there. Or that it’s a hard limit, meaning you don’t want anything to do with it under any circumstances.”
“When would you want to start?”
“We already did. As time goes by, I’ll introduce new things to you, until you get comfortable. What do you want as your safe word?”
“Asparagus.”
Charyn looked at her sideways and laughed, the sound deep and hearty. “I think that qualifies.”
Smiling at Charyn, Mak stretched and grimaced, as sore muscles protested.
“Looks like someone needs another massage.”
“Not if you value your life. The last one was good, but you left me in a bad way. Certainly don’t wanna repeat.”
Slightly offended, Charyn clasped the soft skin of her lower arm, massaging her fingers first. Then he rubbed circles with his thumbs up toward the elbow, and when he finished one limb, moved to the other.
The soft woman in his arms went limp, and he knew she was drifting off into la-la land. Once he reached her feet, Charyn turned her sideways, cradled in his lap. The position reminded him of sitting with Santa for the requisite Christmas pictures as a child. He kept rubbing away at the tired muscles, tight and knotted. When his hands caressed the arch of her foot with work-calloused finger pads, she moaned. Long and low, the sound made him revisit the spot, wanting to hear it again. He wondered if he could make her come without spearing her on his cock in his impatience. There wasn’t enough time for that. Charli would be back soon, and he wanted to take her slowly. Not to mention she must be sore and tired from the accident already.
Willows, Jennifer - Bound by Accident [Moreland Brothers 1] (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 5
