by M. S. Parker
“Oh.” I hoped I didn't sound as disappointed as I felt.
“Did you have plans for tonight?” he asked.
“Does binge-watching a couple shows while eating ice cream count?” I kept my tone light.
“I don't suppose you'd want to put that off and go out with me, would you?” His dimples flashed as he smiled.
“I don't know,” I teased. “I am getting behind on my favorite shows.”
“I'll make it worth your while.” His eyes darkened, leaving no doubt to exactly what he meant. “So I'll pick you up at six?”
“All right,” I said.
“Some place fancy this time,” he said. “If that's okay with you.”
I nodded. “I'd like that.”
“Great!” He beamed at me. He started to lean forward, then stopped. “As much as I'd like to kiss you again, I don't trust myself.” He winked at me. “And I doubt the nuns at St. Paul's would appreciate me coming in to see them with a raging erection.”
I laughed, the tension diffusing from something sexual into pure amusement. Before it could get dangerous again, he left and I set out to find the perfect dress to wear tonight.
He said he was falling in love with me.
The words still didn't feel quite real. Then again, not much with Rylan did. Except, somehow, being with him made me feel more real – alive and present – than I'd ever felt before.
I thought I'd worked through the issues of self-worth that had come from my past, that I didn't need someone else's acceptance to know who I was. It wasn't that Rylan treated me as if I was only important because of him. There was just something about how he looked at me, talked to me. It made me feel more... solid.
I'd never had anything like that before. I'd been the invisible girl, there only to be used and discarded. Then I'd been that girl. The one the media – in their near-religious frenzy regarding the people's right to know overriding the protection of minors or victims – had painted as the poster child for pedophilia. The victim everyone wanted to treat like some damaged, fragile flower. Then I'd gotten away, remade myself, but still hadn't been real. I'd been the genius, the computer geek, the freak with the piercings, tattoos, scars and then the strange hair. There had always been a definition to fit me, a label.
Other than Lily, Rylan was the only person I'd met who I thought actually saw me, and even Lily had viewed me in part as a victim. She'd never treated me like one, but I knew that what she'd rescued me from had colored the way she saw me.
I felt a familiar pang as I thought about Lily. She'd been the first friendly face I'd ever seen, the first person I'd met who hadn't wanted something from me. She'd stayed with me, kept me safe. But she'd also pushed me, told me not to make excuses. She'd shown me how to find my inner strength, given me an example of a strong woman.
I pulled one of my dresses from my closet and gave it a critical look.
I would've liked for Lily and Rylan to have met. They would've liked each other. I was sure Lily would've given Rylan a hard time, wanting to make sure he was a good guy. There probably would've been a background check done.
I sighed. Nothing I had was good enough. I wasn't hurting for money at the moment and the weather was surprisingly good for the beginning of December, so I decided to go shopping.
Four stores and three obnoxious saleswomen later, I found the perfect dress and hurried home to finish getting ready. I'd spent enough time out that I was putting the final touches on my make-up when Rylan knocked on the door. The expression on his face, however, made it all worth it.
I'd gone with a deep, rich blue that complemented my coloring, including my hair. The narrow skirt went to my ankles, but there was a high slit up one side that hit me high enough on my thigh that I knew I'd have to move carefully or risk flashing someone. I'd gone with long sleeves rather than having to take a heavy coat, and the back was high enough that only the tips of my angel wings showed. The neckline was a plunging V that barely left room to cover my bra.
“We need to go,” Rylan said after a moment. “Now.” His eyes rose from my chest to my face. “Otherwise, we're never leaving this apartment, and I'm starving.”
I laughed, taking his arm as he offered it. We made small talk on the way down to the car – a car service this time – and continued it as the driver pulled out into traffic. I asked about his appointment and he told me about the charity auction he was putting together for the church. He asked what I'd spent the day doing.
It was average, normal stuff, the kind of things that couples were supposed to talk about. I was surprised at how easily it came to me. As I leaned against Rylan, I thought that maybe it wasn't about me but about him, about how we were together.
I looked out the window as a moment of silence fell and I frowned. We weren't driving to downtown Fort Collins.
“Where are we going?” I asked. I looked up at Rylan and saw him smile. There was equal parts nerves and pride in that look.
“I love Fort Collins,” Rylan said. “But it doesn't have the kind of place I want to take you tonight. I want it to be special.”
“I don't care where we eat,” I said. My chest was tight with everything that he made me feel. “As long as we're spending the time together.”
He kissed my forehead, then threaded his fingers between mine. “When I was in college, freshman year, my roommate was a guy named Leland Wiles. He left halfway through the year because he decided he wanted to go to culinary school. Now, he's one of LA's hottest up and coming chefs.”
I still had no clue where we were going but I wasn't about to complain. I liked hearing about Rylan's life.
“We stayed in touch, mostly Christmas cards and the occasional dropping in when we were in the other's city,” Rylan continued. “Today, I asked him to come make us a meal.”
My eyes narrowed at him and I felt my eyebrows draw together. “You asked a chef from Los Angeles to come to Fort Collins and cook us dinner?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Seriously?”
“Too much?” he asked. “I spent all of last night and most of the morning going over our lunch and...” He shook his head. “I wanted to make up for it and nothing in the city felt like it'd be special enough. But if you don't like it, I can tell the driver to turn around and we can go to a restaurant. Your choice. I can put away what Leland makes. Re-heat it tomorrow.”
I leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Don't you dare,” I said. “I'm hungry.”
His eyes warmed and he leaned down to brush his lips against mine. It was brief, but still sent a thrill through me. “I want you to know, just because we're eating at my house, I don't have any expectations beyond a lovely meal. Nothing happens that you don't want to happen.”
I rested my hand on his thigh and slid it up until the tips of my fingers brushed against the bulge in his pants. “There are a couple things I'm definitely thinking I want to happen.”
His hand tightened around mine as I moved my hand over, cupping his cock through the expensive material of his suit.
“Jenna.” His voice was nearly a growl.
“I'm glad you decided to use a car service instead of driving,” I said with a grin. “I don't think this would be a good idea if we were in your car.” I lightly squeezed him and glanced toward the front of the car. The driver already had the window up between us.
“Jenna.”
I could hear the desire in his voice. I shifted in my seat even as I worked his zipper open. “I've always wanted to do this in a car,” I said. “And I figure you'll have plenty of time to recover while we're having dinner, and then you can repay the favor.”
I never gave head when a guy was sitting down – too much opportunity for him to take control – but I trusted Rylan to not do anything that would hurt me. He'd already proven that he would stop if I asked him to.
My hand dipped beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs, drawing his cock out, already hard and throbbing. The angle was awkward, but I didn't mind. All I cared about was
getting him into my mouth. I'd wanted to feel him go in my mouth from the first time I'd seen his cock, and that had been another first for me. I hardly ever let a guy finish in my mouth, and then only reluctantly.
I leaned down and felt him stiffen as I breathed on the head of his cock. My tongue teased at its head, flicking across the tip. He moaned and my body throbbed in response. I felt his hand on my shoulder, a light weight that should have freaked me out, but surprisingly didn't. I lowered my head, wrapping my lips around the thick shaft.
His skin was soft, velvet beneath my tongue, and I began to work up and down his cock. I wasn't quite sure where we were in relation to his house, but I did know that this wasn't going to be a long, languorous blow job. I wanted to get him off quick, but still make it good.
I cupped his balls through his underwear as I dropped my head even lower, taking him further into my mouth. I heard him swear as I hollowed my cheeks, sucking as I raised my head. His fingers brushed my hair and I froze for a moment, waiting to see if he'd put his hand on my head, take control.
“Nothing you don't want,” he repeated his previous statement, the strain evident in his voice. He didn't want me to stop, but I knew he wouldn't protest if I did.
I took a slow breath in through my nose and slowly slid back down his cock. This time, when it reached the back of my mouth, I didn't stop. I relaxed my throat and took him down to the base.
“Fuck!” Rylan practically shouted, his fingers curling around the bottom of my hair, but not high enough to freak me out.
I squeezed his balls as I swallowed, letting the muscles in my throat massage his cock. His grip on my hair tightened, sending pinpricks of pain down my scalp. I felt his hips jerking as he fought not to thrust into my mouth and I marveled at his self-control.
“Babe, I'm going to–”
I wanted to see him lose control. Wanted him to come apart beneath me.
I lightly scraped my teeth over him as I started to pull back. He cried out as he came suddenly, flavor bursting across my taste buds. I swallowed, milking out every last delicious drop before I let him slip from between my lips, his cock already starting to soften.
I started to push myself up when Rylan's hand fisted my hair, pulling me up and toward him. I didn't even have the time to start to react to the action before his mouth was on mine, his tongue thrusting between my lips. The hand that wasn't in my hair cupped my breast, squeezing it until I moaned.
My arousal spiked, hot and bright, but the car came to a stop before we went any further. We broke, my reluctance mirrored on his face. His hand slid around to the side of my neck and his thumb brushed across the front of my throat.
“I may want you to do that again.” His voice was rough.
“I enjoyed it too,” I said softly. When he didn't reply, I leaned forward and put my mouth against his ear. “My panties are soaked.”
His eyes closed. “Fuck, Jenna.”
“Later.” I leaned back, putting some distance between us. If I didn't, I wasn't sure I'd be able to control myself. “First, food.”
Chapter 15
Leland Wiles definitely deserved the reputation Rylan said he had. I'd always thought that the food at expensive restaurants sounded and looked pretentious rather than delicious. Snails? Caviar? No thank you. Fortunately, Leland didn't make anything like that. Filet mignon, steamed vegetables and homemade bread may have seemed like something simple, but the way Leland made it took it to a whole new level. Then there was dessert. Various types of fruit with both a crème sauce and a chocolate sauce. Finger food at its most decadent, and I made sure to use them to my advantage. By the time Leland came into the dining room to ask how we'd liked our meal, the air between Rylan and I was thick with sexual tension. I was pretty sure that was why Leland made a quick exit.
As soon as we were alone, the heat in the room ratcheted up a notch and my heart skipped a beat. I could still feel him in my throat and I wanted him inside me. More than that, I wanted him to push me again, to test my boundaries.
“Before, I showed you my playroom, but we haven't yet... played there.” Rylan stood.
Even from where I was sitting, a few feet away, I could see his erection straining against the front of his pants. Most men, if they got off once and could get it back up again, took longer to come the second time. Based on past experience, Rylan hadn't had any issues with stamina, but I wondered how much longer he was going to last this time.
I shivered at the thought of him taking me again and again, making me scream...
“Are you cold?” Rylan looked concerned.
I shook my head and stood. “I want to play.”
He swallowed hard, and his face went blank. It was only because the rest of his body was telling me how much he wanted me that I knew why he was trying to hide what he was feeling. He didn't want his own desires to pressure me into doing something I didn't want to do.
I took a step toward him. “Do you want to play with me?”
“Dammit, Jenna,” he breathed. “You have no idea.”
“Then tell me,” I said. “Show me.” I reached out and took his hand, drawing it to me and placing it over my breast.
He kept his hand there, his thumb brushing over my nipple until it hardened beneath my dress. “I want...”
He hesitated and I could see the conflict in his eyes.
“Tell me, Rylan,” I said. I put my hand on his cheek.
“I don't want to scare you away,” he said. He moved his hand to trace my jawline with the tip of his index finger. “Not now that I know how much you mean to me.”
My mouth went dry. Fuck. I promised myself that whatever he wanted, if there was any way I could do it, I would.
“Tell me.” My voice was hoarse.
“I want to... do things to your breasts.” He chose each word carefully, his eyes searching my face, I knew, for any sign of distaste.
“What do you want to do to them?” My heart was beating so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
“Mark them,” he said. The words came out faster now. “I want to lick and suck on your nipples until they're hard. Use my teeth and fingers on them, twisting and biting and pulling until they're sore.”
My pussy throbbed and my nipples were already hard.
“I want to put clamps on them.”
Shit.
I'd thought about that before, him using nipple clamps on me.
I took his hand. “I remember my safe words,” I said. “Let's play.”
His fingers tightened around mine and he led me out of the dining room, heading for the playroom and what I hoped would be a long and satisfying night.
“You haven't told me what you want,” Rylan broke the silence as he opened the door to his playroom.
I was confused. I thought I'd been pretty clear.
He turned toward me. “I want to know what you like.”
“I'll use my safe words if I don't like...”
“I don't want to know what you'll tolerate,” he said. He raised our joined hands and kissed the back of mine. “I want to know what you like.”
A rush of emotion went through me. “I like you.” I squeezed his hand.
He smiled but then his expression grew serious. “Jenna, I want to know what you want. I want to know what gives you the greatest pleasures.” His expression stayed serious as he bent his head and gently pressed his lips against mine. “I don't use some of the terminology from the BDSM lifestyle, not unless my partner is into it, but I know myself well enough to know that I'm what they'd classify as a Dom. When it comes to sex, I like being in control, being dominant.”
I still wasn't sure where he was going with this.
“But part of being a good Dom.” He kissed me again, this time a little harder. His teeth scraped across my bottom lip and I moaned. “Part of being a good lover is wanting to give your partner as much pleasure as possible. I don't want to only do the things I want and hope you like them.”
I'd given men instructions before,
about what to do and how to do it, but generally only while we were having sex. And it was always me telling them, never them asking. I wasn't sure how to have a conversation like that.
“Please, Jenna,” he said. “Tell me something you like.” His voice held that edge of authority that I responded to.
He'd shared his kinks with me, then let me put restrictions on what he could do. He made me come harder than anyone I'd ever been with and here he was wondering if I was merely tolerating the things he did.
“I like it a bit rough,” I admitted and tried not to blush. “All the things you said you wanted to do to my breasts, I want.” I looked up at him. “Everything you said.”
“Don't just say it–” he began.
“I'm not,” I said firmly. I reached behind me and unzipped my dress, but didn't let it fall. “Do you want me to show you?”
“Show me,” he ordered. He shrugged out of his jacket as he crossed the room. He draped it over the X and then took a seat in a chair I hadn't noticed before. It was wide and plush, about halfway between a love seat and an armchair.
I let go of my dress and it dropped to the floor. I stepped out of it, then out of my shoes.
“On the bed,” he instructed.
I climbed onto the bed and leaned back against the pillows so Rylan would be able to watch. When I was settled, I unclasped the single front hook and let my bra fall open. I'd seen desire in a lot of men's eyes, but it had never made me wet before.
“Show me what you like.”
I cupped my breasts, then pinched my nipples between my fingers. A jolt of pleasure went through me. I rolled the hardening flesh, pulling and tugging on them. Rylan's eyes darkened to near-black as the tips of my nipples became hard bullet points.
“I like teeth,” I said softly. I twisted my nipple and moaned. “I want your mouth on me.”
“What do you want my mouth to do?” He began unbuttoning his shirt.
I flicked my nipples. “Lick, suck, bite.” I slid one hand down my stomach toward my panties.
“No touching yourself,” he said as he stood. “We'll get there, but not yet.”
