I almost say words I don’t mean. I’m just caught in the moment. But as she cups the back of my head and crushes her lips against mine, I lose control of everything. I kiss her back with a passion I thought I once knew and I bury myself to the hilt, spilling my cum deep inside of her tight walls.
As the waves of pleasure wrack through me, I ignore the thoughts creeping in. I see her beautiful eyes shining with devotion, and I close my own, wanting to deny what’s clearly between us. Our ragged breath mingles as I stare at the nightstand and try to pull myself together.
I purchased her as a distraction. That’s all this is. Even as I brace my body on top of hers and catch my breath while she softly kisses my neck, I ignore the feelings creeping into the crevices of my mind.
Chapter 22
Dahlia
“I came for the first time ever without having to think about being forced,” I confess to Carla while chewing on a salty french fry, and gazing out into the beautiful skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows. We’re sitting in Explicit Designs’ famed cafeteria, enjoying lunch together. Ravenous for once, I’m enjoying a big fat cheeseburger, fries and a vanilla shake, while Carla is having the same thing, except her shake is milk chocolate.
I’ve finally told Carla about Lucian's habits in bed, though I don’t think I’ve had much choice in the matter.
For the past few days, Carla has hounded me about the details of my relationship with Lucian and I’ve finally given in to her incessant prying. Mainly because I so badly want to share my dilemma with someone who understands where I’m coming from. I've kept the details to the bare minimum, keeping it casual and not divulging how my world has been completely shaken up. I still feel like I can lean on her though. Like I can trust her and share this little piece of myself with her. Even if she doesn't realize just how much it means to me.
Taking a sip of her shake, Carla chuckles, her eyes alight with mischief. She looks absolutely lovely today sporting a ruby red dress, the hem coming just above her knees and showing off her nice calves, her hair pulled back into a ponytail with a curl on the end, and her nails painted the same color as her dress. Red pumps adorn her feet, and I think she’d give even the most seasoned fashion model a run for her money with how much she’s working that outfit. She sure is a vision in red, let me tell you. “So what’s so bad about that?”
I shake my head, biting into another fry and doing a little shrug. “I don’t know. Don’t you think it’s weird that I couldn’t get off without fantasizing about that before?”
Carla waves a fry at my face as she swallows down a huge gulp of her shake. “Hell no. That’s why we’re Subs. We like it kinky… and rough. I can see how someone can find it hard to get off without that fantasy.” She makes a face. “It’s not something that’s a problem for me, but I definitely can relate.”
The way she’s acting makes me want to tell her about the rape, but I fight down the urge.
I’ve gone this long without telling her, I think to myself, there’s no reason to tell her now. Besides, she just accepts that’s it’s a fantasy, and that’s all she needs to know.
Carla lets out a little evil chuckle, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Although… Lucian must be a real grandmaster in the bedroom to make you cum without that fantasy.”
Lucian.
The very thought of him fills me with hope. And despair.
For the first time ever, I’d cum without the fantasy of being raped. I’m still in shock. It’s amazing when I think about it. No one had ever been able to do it. Not even when I’ve touched myself.
And yet, I still don’t know what’s going to happen between us. I still don’t know if I’ll be able to get there continuously without that fantasy. I’m nervous and apprehensive and hopeful, all at once. I’m just a mess.
Carla is smiling at me, mistaking my quietness for something else. “Look at you!” She lets out a little chirp. “I think you’re in love.”
My mind snaps back to the present, and I focus on Carla’s face, wanting to deny it. But I can’t; she’s right. I’m falling in love with Lucian. But I’m doubting our relationship will ever be anything more than what it is--a contract for sex. And it hurts. “No I’m not,” I lie.
Carla laughs at me. “Don’t lie to me, Dah. I totally see it in you. The way you look when you talk about him, how you’ve been acting this past month. Your feelings definitely go beyond the boundaries of a Sub and her Dom. I should know, since the same thing happened to me.” She waves her hand at my face as if she’s fanning me 'cause I’m burning up. “Face it, Dah, you’re done for.”
“And you’re totally dumb,” I growl, causing her to laugh. “Seriously though, I don’t know what’s going on with us. You know when my contract is up, he can just find a new Sub, right?” A heavy weight presses down on my chest. That’s exactly what I keep thinking is going to happen. That he’s going to get tired of trying to heal me. Get tired of me being broken.
Carla frowns, put off by my pessimistic attitude. She finishes her chocolate milkshake and tosses the cup in the trash. It’s ten past one. Our lunch break is over. “Don’t say that, Dah. You have to have hope that things will turn out right.”
That’s the thing, I tell myself, as I finish off my burger and then get up to toss the rest of my meal in the trash, I don’t want to give myself a sense of false hope.
I spend the rest of the day going over emails and fashion designs in my office, ignoring everything and just focusing on work. I’m just about to close up and head down to the first floor to await my drive over to Lucian’s when I receive an unexpected call.
“Hello?” I answered in a guarded voice.
“Dah!” my mother’s raspy voice greets me with more pep than I remember. With how scratchy her voice is, I can tell she’s been hitting the cigs pretty hard lately, probably up to several packs a day. “Hey honey, how have you been?”
This is the first time in recent memory that I've been ecstatic that my mother’s called me. I haven’t heard from her in so long, her voice is like music to my ears. It should piss me off that I’m just now hearing from her, but I’m so happy to have someone to talk to. Maybe I can even get the courage to talk to her. She doesn’t know about my issues, but I could tell her about Lucian, even if it’s not real. I could tell her about the paper and that I’m in a relationship. I want to. I’m dying to talk about it. I don’t know why, but I just need to talk to her. “Hey Mom!” I greet her cheerfully, “I’ve been alright, how have you been?”
“Good, good. I’m glad you’re doing okay, honey. I’ve been worried about you.”
I smile. Mom seems like she’s called me with genuine concern. I open my mouth to start telling her about my situation, when she cuts me off with, “I got your text.” Her voice has dropped several octaves, signaling that her mood has shifted. “I can’t really help out in the money department right now,” she finishes.
If it weren’t so sad, I’d laugh. Figures she’d call when I most likely won’t need the help. I part my lips to tell her I should be set for a pretty good while, but then close them, realizing it’s probably not wise. I shouldn’t tell her about the money, which I haven’t received yet. Knowing my luck, she’d try to ask me for some, claiming I owed her a cut for birthing me into this world. And that money is just enough to pay off all my debt. Every cent of it. After taxes I’ll have a little left over while I’m waiting to start a real job, something that’ll actually pay me. “That’s alright, Mom. I worked things out with the school and everything will be fine.”
“Oh honey, I’m so happy for you,” Mom says, zero happiness in her voice. “I’m so glad you were able to fix things, I really hated having to turn you down.”
I want to say something nice in return, but I can’t find the words. She really doesn’t give me much to work with.
The call goes silent except for the atmospheric static.
“I’m going to see Todd for Christmas,” Mom announces when the silence stretches past
fifteen seconds.
I perk up at the news. Even though I’m upset with her, I would love to see her. So much has gone on in my life since we last talked, it would be nice to enjoy each other’s company. And I still haven’t met Todd. I’d like to though. It seems like this must be serious between them.
“Do you want me to come, too?” I ask. In the back of my mind, I’m thinking about Lucian. Our thirty days will be over soon. My heart hurts thinking we could be over, too. Even if we aren’t, I don’t know if he’d want me around. After all, I’m his Sub. I have to keep reminding myself that.
And he has his own family, I tell myself, remembering the sister he’s mentioned to me that he cares so much about, even though he hates his parents. It’s something else we have in common. He feels like his parents have done him wrong and I feel likewise, and we both have such screwed-up pasts, though I’d argue mine is a bit more screwed-up than his. Well maybe not more, but different. I almost huff at a humorless chuckle at the thought. Still, Lucian’s past gives him special insight on my problem, helps him understand me. He knows what it feels like to be hurt by someone who claims to love you, to be betrayed by the very people you trust.
I hear my mother suck in a breath, bringing me back to the present moment, followed by a long pause. “I don’t think Todd wants anyone else coming,” she finally admits.
I sit there numbly, letting her words sink in. Why am I not surprised? I should’ve known better than to ask a question like that. At least she told me ahead of time. For Thanksgiving she told me she was spending it with Todd only a few weeks in advance, too. But that’s Thanksgiving, not Christmas. There’s a big difference. At least to me there is.
“Oh, that’s okay,” I say evenly. I’m not going to break down over this. I’m not going to break down over this. I have to repeat it over and over in my head.
“I’m really sorry, honey.” Surprisingly, I detect faint emotion in her voice. I ignore it, along with my own emotions threatening to consume me.
“It’s okay, really. I understand.” My voice is even, practically robotic.
“I’ll talk to you soon, okay? I have a plane to catch.”
“Yeah.” Before I can get in another word I hear the line go dead.
Click.
I sit there for a moment, staring at my desk, feeling empty inside. If I could’ve gotten over leaving Lucian for a while, this would’ve been the perfect time for Mom and I to bond, for her to listen to me and give me advice on my problems. But that was a fool’s fantasy. She hasn’t been here for me for so long, and she’s not about to start now. I need to get over it and let her come to me when she’s ready.
For now, I’ll just stay at my apartment for Christmas.
Alone.
Gathering my things, I walk out of my office and head down to the first floor, feeling the unhappiest that I’ve felt in a while.
Chapter 23
Lucian
She’s late. I came in, and somehow I already knew. When I opened the door and saw the empty bed, my breathing slowed, my blood cooled. Anger wasn’t there, but fear was.
She’s left me. I’m still standing in the doorway, trying to convince myself that I’m wrong. I know I am. I paid for her. She can’t leave me. My heart thuds once. She doesn’t care about the money. She never has. Not once has she mentioned it. But still. She’s not leaving me. My own insecurities are creeping in, and I shove them away.
She’s mine. I can take care of her. I am taking care of her. I nod my head and turn from the room.
I let it resonate through me. She’s coming. She’ll be here. I calm my racing heart and slowly close the door with a gentle click. My palm presses against my pocket, but it’s empty. I clear my throat and make my way toward the stairs with a hard expression, devoid of all emotion. I left my phone on the foyer table, but I don’t need it. As I hit the last step, I hear the keypad rejecting an entry.
My treasure. I imagine she’s panicking in this moment. As I walk to the door, my phone goes off. I stare at it, my hand hovering on the doorknob, but it doesn’t matter what her excuse is. She’s late.
I open the door, my expression stern and her body jolts some. Her breathing is coming in quick as she takes a half step back.
“Lucian, I-”
“Sir,” I correct her with a hard voice. My grip on the door tightens as she stares back at me with her mouth slightly opened. The lines are blurred, and that’s obvious. But I’m still her Dom, and she’s late and she’s hesitating.
I open the door wider and she walks in quickly with her head down. “Thank you, sir,” she says uneasily.
I should take her upstairs, but I can’t wait. I need her now.
My fingers deftly unbuckle my belt as I walk to the living room. I stand by the sofa and wait for her eyes to reach mine as I pull the belt from the loops. “Strip and bend over,” I give her the command and lust covers her expression. She’s quick to do exactly what I tell her.
Every second that passes my blood gets hotter, my cock harder. Her heels slip off her feet as she shoves her dress down. She doesn’t hesitate to bare herself to me and bend over the arm of the mahogany leather sofa. She has to balance herself on her toes as her upper body lays flat on the cushion. Her hair fans around her and she looks back at me, the perfect picture of obedience.
My dick pushes against my zipper as I fold the belt in my hand. I run it along her spine and trail it slowly down to her ass. Her eyes close, and she lets out a mix of a whimper and a moan.
“Why are you being punished?” I ask her.
“For being late, for addressing you incorrectly, and for disappointing you and forgetting my place, sir.” I close my eyes behind her and let my head fall back.
Perfection.
She’s so fucking perfect. I pull back my arm and quickly lash the belt across her ass. It hits her with a loud smack! and she lets out a small scream as her hands ball into fists in an attempt not to cum.
“Count them, treasure,” I say calmly.
“One, sir,” she says loudly.
Smack! I aim just below the soft curve of her ass on her upper thighs. I pull back the blow slightly, knowing it’ll be more tender.
“Two!” she yells with her face scrunched up, but her pussy clenches and her mouth opens with desire.
Smack!
“Three,” she whimpers.
This one is higher, in a fresh spot and she pushes her ass up to meet the blow. I steady my hand on her lower back to remind her. She needs to be still. The belt whips through the air. Smack!
“Four, sir.” Four is good. Four is more than enough. She writhes slightly and bites down on her lip.
I drop my belt to the floor, the buckle making a loud clank, and gentle my hands over the marks on her ass. The red lines are slightly raised, and Dahlia seethes in a breath as I press my hand against the hot marks. She presses her ass into my touch and struggles to keep her body from squirming with pleasure. I've administered the perfect amount of pain to give her the endorphin rush she needs.
I eye them carefully, making sure they won’t bruise and there are no cuts. Just four parallel red lines.
I lean forward, my hard dick nestled in her pussy, the fabric of my pants separating our hot skin. I graze my teeth along her naked shoulder and nip her earlobe. My hand travels along her waist, her stomach, up to her lush breasts and I squeeze gently and then pinch her nipple as I kiss her lips. Her mouth opens as I pull slightly, my other hand traveling to her soaking wet pussy.
“Thank me for your punishment, treasure,” I say with a calmness I don’t feel.
“Thank you, sir,” she whimpers, struggling to stay still as I rub her swollen clit and pull on her nipple until it slips from my grip.
The need to punish her pussy and command her body is riding me hard, my thick cock pushing against my zipper as I watch her glistening sex clench around nothing.
I don’t know what to do. We both want this, I know that much. But I don’t know if it’s detrimental to w
hat we’re working toward.
She can see my hesitation and her soft eyes flicker with self-doubt. I hate it. I won’t allow it. My shortcomings won’t cause her pain.
“Is this what you want, treasure?” I ask her in a hard voice, shoving my pants down and stroking my dick. I push her back down and she gasps. Her breathing is coming in ragged pants as she hesitantly looks back at me.
I line my dick up with her hot opening and slam into her. Her tight walls force a rough grunt from my lips as I pound into her mercilessly over and over again.
I push her face down into the cushions and fuck her at an angle that goes deeper than I ever have before. The sofa muffles her screams as I drill into her tight cunt, throwing my head back and groaning at how fucking good she feels.
My toes curl into the carpet as I thrust my hips harder and harder. The sofa shudders each time, and I have to lean forward to keep the heavy furniture from moving too much. Her hips dig into the sofa and her toes come off the floor as I lose control, slamming recklessly into her, loving how her nails scratch against the leather sofa.
Her body tenses and I know she’s close, and that’s when I lose focus. Thinking about her. About her pleasure. About her pain. I try to shake the thoughts away, rutting between her legs with a primal need, but I can’t shut them out.
Her pussy spasms on my dick and she feels so fucking good, but my mind is racing with the knowledge of why she’s just gotten off. Her past and her struggles corrupt every bit of pleasure in my being as she screams out my name.
I can’t. I can’t get off on this.
I pull away from her, still hard and slipping out, letting her fall limp and sated on the couch, her orgasm still running through her body and making her thighs tremble. She pulls her knees into her chest and tries to calm her breathing as I walk away.
I breathe in deep, running my hand over my face and trying to think. My head is fucked up, and I feel lost. I question taking her like that.
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