Текст книги "Save Us"
Автор книги: Cynthia Dane
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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
“Don’t give me that look,” Kathryn says playfully, her hand wrapping around the base of my cock as she slips the ring on. Oh God, oh fuck it all, that shit is tight. Slow the flow of blood, why don’t you? Not like it hurts down there or anything. That painful ache of desperately needing to empty. This isn’t blue balls. This is black and blue balls.
Kathryn gives me a cursory lick before standing back up. She ties my hands behind my back again, and neither of us wants to laugh at my cock sticking painfully up with blue rubber circling the base. I’m trying not to think about it.
Shiiiiit.
“I know it hurts, baby.” That cooing both drives me up the wall and makes me want to do whatever the fuck she wants… especially if it means a happy ending for me. “You’re a good sport, though. So I’m going to give you the best thing possible.”
I don’t expect anything now.
“My pussy,” she whispers in my ear.
For a split second I allow myself to believe I get to fuck her. Only a split second, however, because soon I’m on my knees on the carpet, watching Kathryn shake off her shorts and underwear. Both are kicked across the room, until I’m staring up at her beautiful slit now covered in the finest blond hairs.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Kathryn sinks into the chair I was in, spreading her legs wide open so I see nothing but what’s between them. She’s wet. Really, really wet.
Did this do that to her?
“Tell me it’s what you wanted. And mean it.”
I mean, I’m looking right into your body, aren’t I, Kathryn? I’m always down for that. “There hasn’t been a moment where I haven’t wanted any part of you.”
Her domineering smile falters for a moment.
“Eat my pussy, Mathers.”
How the fuck do I say no to that?
Let’s get a grip. Whenever I’m between a woman’s spread legs, it’s because I’m spoiling her. This is true as a Dom and as… well, whatever this is. There are times I use it as a tool to bring her to the edge and then deny her orgasm, but usually, if I’m going down, my tongue dipping between folds and my nose inhaling the heady scent of a woman’s natural, sweet odor, it’s because she deserves to be spoiled.
Even this woman, with her arms crossed on her chest and her face as sour as a lemon orchard, deserves to be spoiled in the most intimate way possible.
Don’t get me wrong. I love doing it. With her. Kathryn’s scent and taste alone are enough to turn me into a slobbering mess of a man who gets lost in the world she creates, either as a Domme or a sub.
My tongue moves between her folds, flicking against her clit, dipping into her entrance, and teasing her with the tongue fuck I know she wants. The last time I did this, she screamed for nearly five minutes. When her hand snatches in my hair and holds me on her pussy, I think, well, there are worse ways to die. Might as well drown down here with my hands tied behind my back.
“Holy shit you’re hot.”
Saying that makes her wetter. A new taste hits my tongue, and I’m transported to conversations I’ve had with other Doms over the years. Depending on the man, eating a woman out – let alone a woman who has submitted to you – is considered weak and debasing. Those men are shit, assuming they’re looking for excuses to avoid giving their subs pleasure like this. Except, they say, you’re not supposed to lower yourself in this way.
I’m not lowering myself. I’m elevating her.
Kathryn tastes like ambrosia, as befitting a goddess of her Olympian standing. The deeper my tongue goes inside her, fucking her as my nose rubs her clit, the more I realize this Domme only cares about her sub idolizing her until she’s become one with the universe, the stars and planets around her.
I can do that for you, Kathryn. For you, that is the easiest thing in the world. I can’t imagine any woman more deserving than you.
You.
My Queen. My Goddess.
The woman I would marry and spend the rest of eternity with, if given the chance.
Can you feel it? Can you feel how eager I am as I lick, tickle, and fuck you? Do you like the way I sink my tongue so far in that you squirm enough to tell me that this is heaven to you? Do you like how the tip of my tongue comes out, covered in your wetness, and contours around your sweet clit? Your voice is firm, but your resolve is weakening. You want me to fuck you with my cock as much as I want to do it.
Any apprehension I felt when I walked up here is gone now. I don’t care if she ties me up. I don’t care if she puts a cock ring around my base and says, “Toughen up, Buttercup…”
I don’t even care if she pushes me onto the floor, crawling over my supine body, straddling my head, and sitting on my face until I can barely breathe.
“You like eating my pussy, huh?” Kathryn laughs, too amused for her own good. Meanwhile, I’m down here unable to answer because her pussy is rubbing all over my mouth, my nose, my fucking forehead as she marks me all over. “Tell me how much you love me with that thick tongue of yours.”
I mean, I thought that was a given.
Nevertheless, I obey, not that I wouldn’t anyway. Yet I’m elated to drive my tongue inside her, taking my chances to breathe whenever she lifts her hips off my flesh. She’s fucking my face as much as I’m fucking her folds. And it’s killing us both.
I want her. I want to feel her climax all over me, hear that beautiful voice scream, and taste her.
Kathryn doesn’t say anything. She’s too lost in the moment, driving her hips down on me, pulling my short hair, and bracing her feet against the carpet as she fills my mouth with her wetness. A lot of wetness. As she cries out, rhythmically taking me, I taste a wave of her sexual energy as it washes over my tongue and runs down the back of my throat. Is this what it feels like for her when I do the same in turn?
“Shit.” She rolls off me. My face is hot with her. I’m hot with her. And let’s not forget the damned hard-on making my life hell if I think about it too much.
I don’t want to think about it. I want to think about her body collapsing from orgasm, her chest heaving into the air with every languished breath.
“Kathryn,” I say, then correct myself, “I mean, Mistress…”
“What?”
I brave pulling my hand out of my binds. I caress her stomach, pushing my fingers into her cleavage and reveling in the shape of her breasts. Those hard nipples are about to puncture holes through her T-shirt.
“I love you.”
She lets me touch her. For some reason, that makes me grateful. I don’t think I could bear her denying me the gift of reveling in her beautiful, glowing body. That would be true torture.
Kathryn sits up, stroking my shoulder. “You must, if you’re lying naked on my floor with a cock ring and my cum all over your face.”
“Oh, is that what happened?”
I’m kissed, eased over, and straddled across the hips. Kathryn’s slick thighs rub against my skin, and I don’t think twice as my cock is guided into her.
We both sigh in contentment. Yet mine is short lived, because Kathryn moves, swallowing me inside her, claiming my cock with her entire body.
I don’t need to be told what to do. I don’t need Kathryn to command me, and I certainly don’t need to be talked to like a sub to satisfy this bucking woman.
My hands take her hips. My body lifts off the floor, thrusting into her, the cock ring making me frustratingly hard and unable to come as quickly as I would like. I don’t even know if I’m allowed to come inside her. It doesn’t matter. It’s forever her and me, and that’s all I need.
Our eyes don’t meet. Hers are closed, but mine are devouring her. There’s something magical about the way she fucks me. Although Kathryn has ridden me like this before, let alone after dominating someone, this is completely different. She’s losing herself to everything. Everything. The room. The city beyond these walls. The world. My body is merely a conduit for taking her to a higher, more orgasmic level of existence. I don’t know what it feels like for a woman to have sex. I will never know.
I do know what it feels like on this end. I feel like a stallion. Hey, don’t laugh. You get what I mean. One of those wild stallions that’s used to having his way across the open plains. Taking what I want, when I want. Then along comes this woman claiming she can tame and break me in. She captures me, traps me in her pen, and hops on for the ride of her life.
The longer this goes on, the more I’m convinced it’s possible for this stallion to accept a rider after all.
Just her, though. I don’t want anyone else having this privilege.
I think it’s safe to say she feels the same way about me.
It doesn’t take long for her to come again. I’m driving deep into her, searching for the most sensitive places a woman hides within her. Even though I know where they are, it feels like a more strenuous task when that woman is a Domme and you’ve got this blasted cock ring around you.
Kathryn is the most stunning specimen in the universe as she loses it all over me. It’s not only her clenching inner walls, or the bounce of her breasts within her shirt. It’s the way her hips slam against mine, the wetness covering my pelvis, the moans of exasperated pleasure, and the way she completely abandons everything holding her back from expressing how she really feels about me.
No words pass between us. They don’t have to.
“Fucking hell,” she finally relents, falling against my chest when she can’t bear to go any longer. Except she’s not about to forget me, her loyal man who has stayed hard – frustratingly so – this whole time. Kathryn inhales, forcing her chest upward as she kneels beside me and wraps her hand around my cock.
I lay back on the carpet. Might as well.
“Come for me, baby.” She squeezes, I grimace in painful pleasure. “You’ve earned it.”
She’s not gentle.
The ring makes it nearly impossible to come when I want, which is right now. Instead I’m stuck here, feeling orgasm at the edge of my body and brain while the loveliest woman in the world jacks me off and occasionally kisses my engorged tip. My cock is plenty wet from her riding me, and let me tell you, that sound of skin slipping against skin alone should be sending me to the moon.
Instead, it’s marking me with extreme agony. I take Kathryn’s wrist and groan, venting my annoyance.
“I wanna see you explode, Mathers,” she growls. “Do it for me.”
For you, Katie? I’ll come five times in a row.
Instead, I have to be content with one. A big one.
It begins in my core, expanding in heat and desire until I’m engulfed in such an intense climax that I think I might… well, no, I’m pretty sure I’m dying. This is truly, surely the feeling of a man on the brink of death. I’ve got a heart attack coming on, and the only one keeping me from keeling over is Kathryn, the woman rubbing my cock and coaching me through my orgasm.
I barely feel my seed land on my stomach, that’s how far gone I am.
When I do come back to the real world, I’m still groaning because of my poor, stupid cock which is struggling to go soft with the ring around it. Before I can be in a world of trouble, my Kathryn pulls it off and lets it hang from her lips as she massages her hands across my seed-covered skin.
If I were more connected to this world, I would find it so fucking hot.
Kathryn bends down and breathes into my ear. “I love you, too.”
My hand lands on her leg. “I’m ready to go to bed.” I’m so exhausted. Exhausted enough to sleep for the next twelve hours straight.
“Of course, love. I was about to head there myself when you showed up.”
I force a smile through my tired muscles. “And what were you going to do in bed?”
She rolls her eyes. “Sleep. Sorry that’s not exciting.”
Quite the contrary. Sleeping with Kathryn is the right level of excitement for me.
I go in the bathroom to clean up and take stock. Did that really happen? Was that what I was so apprehensive about? That wasn’t so bad. Then again, that wasn’t as heavy as I expected from a Domme… but Kathryn isn’t the kind of Domme that turns me off. No, if she was, then I wouldn’t be in this apartment trying to win her at all.
I wouldn’t be in love with her.
Kathryn’s in bed, hair down and wearing nothing but her T-shirt. I mean nothing. I get a kick out of seeing her push back the covers on the other side of the bed, flashing me her bare skin. Doesn’t take much to make me stir again, as exhausted as I am.
“So I’m staying the night?” I lean in the bedroom doorway. I’m still naked, but not shy for her of all women to see me soft. “I’m not banned from the queen’s intimate presence?”
“Of course not.” She pats the empty space beside her. “My man needs aftercare, anyway.”
Me. I need aftercare. That’s… well, it’s not funny. It’s not a riot. It’s not really anything in my mind. “You sure about that? I don’t think my boundaries were pushed that hard.”
Her look tells me to watch it.
Oh, I’ll watch it. Because I want to get in bed next to her, to watch the lights go out and feel her wrap around me, our skin caressing, teasing, and lips pushing together over and over again as we navigate the currents beneath these bed covers.
“Anything else you need from me tonight?” I comb my fingers through her hair, enjoying her body leaning against mine in her big bed. Kathryn has a softer mattress than I do. Softer covers, too, although I win in the sheet department.
Her hand presses against my chest, fingers curling up to walk to my throat and flick my skin there. “There is one thing I want, my prince.”
“Prince, huh? Now don’t inflate my ego too hard.” Also, I think this is the first night I’ve heard her call me so many nicknames. Could get used to that.
“Roll over.”
Her wish is my command. My aching body responds with alacrity as I turn on my stomach and stretch my arms above my head, touching the wire frame of her bed. Kathryn rubs my back, kisses my spine…
…And digs her nails into my flesh.
“How satisfying,” she purrs, and I am doing my damndest to not flinch or bite the pillow. “Digging my claws into the man who wants to debut me as a sub. And what do I get, hm? How will I make sure everyone knows that you and I had this moment?”
My head lifts off the pillow. Until now, I didn’t think anyone would know we had “this moment.” Until now, I assumed that the night I submitted to Kathryn Alison would be left in secrecy. That way I wouldn’t have to deal with the judgment, the gossip, or the men I usually do business with politely walking away when I have something to bring up.
And yet I am asking her to debut?
I really am an asshole.
“I’d like to point out I’ve never made you bleed,” I growl.
“Don’t worry, my sweet prince.” She pats my cheek. “I’m not a sadist. I wouldn’t dream of causing you that kind of pain or scarring this glorious body of yours.”
All right, is she trying to actually flatter me? I have no idea.
“I’ve got my ways. Hold on. Sit still. This won’t hurt, but it might tickle.”
What?
A drawer opens and closes. I’m not actually afraid – pshaw! – but I am wary, especially when something cool touches my back, Kathryn running her tongue over her teeth.
This something doesn’t hurt, but it travels across my skin, leaving behind its marks whenever Kathryn bends down to blow it dry. It doesn’t hurt or tickle. It does, however, confuse me.
“There.” Kathryn tosses whatever it was into her drawer. “Now come here, Prince Ian.”
Tonight I may be a prince to her queen, but I am still a prince, meaning I get a lot of wiggle room. Some would say that me being raised a man of money and social allowances has always made me a prince of some sort. Usually when I think of men calling themselves prince, I think of those young, foolish jerks who are too big for their pants and drive me up the wall. You know the types. I don’t want to be that type.
Here, though, alone with Kathryn, I don’t mind being a prince. Particularly if being a prince means pushing her onto her back and overtaking her with my body, lips, and every ounce of intent swimming through my veins.
“Ian…” I’ve missed hearing my name said that way.
I’ve also missed being in bed with her, Kathryn, the queen of my heart and body.
Chapter 26
KATHRYN
“Dawn Lovett is going to be the biggest pain in the ass about it,” Eva says, going over the list we’ve made on this lazy afternoon. I appreciate her taking one of her precious days off from school and the family business to stop by my place. Not to mention it’s raining outside, and it’s hell on her hair.
While the rain patters on the window, we draw up a list of the Dommes in our circle who will cause a stink after my debut. We’re also going over my debut as a sub, which is scheduled to happen this Saturday night. There’s nothing formal about it. Not like we called up the club and said, “Hey, so, I’ve got this sub I wanna parade around…” Ian and I decided that it had to be that night, although he may or may not have made sure there would be a spot on stage for us during the busiest hour. Yikes.
Which means him and me going over the details, because this is a delicate affair. Nobody will see it coming, which is both good and bad for me.
“Make sure you don’t wear something too trashy.” Eva downs the last of her tea before I pour her another cup. “Also, please don’t tell me he’s going to humiliate you.”
“No, he would never.” Don’t get me wrong – about half the shows at The Dark Hour focus on humiliation, because that’s what a lot of the male subs like. Some of the female ones, too. And when a club like that tries to keep it equal on gender representation across Topping and bottoming, you’re going to see a good amount of trash talking and spanking. If male subs are involved, it means a lot of cock rings too.
Ah, cock rings. How I love them. They look great on a cock like Ian’s.
I’ve told Eva about that night. I went easy on the man, like he went easy on me my first time. And even though he tried to be all macho and tell me he didn’t need any aftercare, well… let’s be honest. His version of aftercare that night was climbing on top of me in bed and thrusting into me until his cock was so worn out he fell asleep two seconds afterward. Also note that the man did not say no to my cuddling and platitudes.
Maybe one day I’ll be rubbing lotion into his skin and kissing away the booboos I gave him. Probably not anytime soon, but for now, I’m satisfied.
He did it. He tried it. He came to me and said he wanted me enough to acknowledge that part of who I am. Ian Mathers will never sub as often as I want to now, but knowing that he could warms the freezing cackles of my deadened heart.
I also may be beyond smitten in love and driving Eva nuts.
“Stop grinning like a dumbass. This is serious. Dawn Lovett donates to your charities.”
“So, me getting spanked once in a while means she’s not going to help out low-income schools anymore? That would be petty as hell.”
“Dawn Lovett is petty. She dumps subs because they don’t make the right sounds when they come.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice. And no, I’m not wearing anything trashy. We’ve already picked out my outfit. It’s basically my Domme outfit but with different makeup and a collar.”
“All right. You guys are going for the theatrics.”
“Hardly.”
“Think about what you’re doing.”
“I’ve been thinking about that for weeks now. Why do you think I went off to Europe?”
“Fair enough.”
Sinéad weaves in and out of my feet as we sit at my table by the window. Pathetic mewls hit the air until Eva picks her up and gives her a hug. “Cats look good on you,” I say. “Thought about living up to more stereotypes and collecting them? I hear Jasmine Bliss has more to hand out. Our cats could be siblings.”
“Cute. You’ve picked up lesbian jokes from your boyfriend.”
“He is my boyfriend, isn’t he?”
Eva looks at me, exasperated.
“I swear I’m not one of those women.”
The look gets worse.
Okay, so I’m being a bit insufferable. I like to think I’ve earned the right after this long. I’m on the far side to thirty, and have never been in a relationship as serious as this. I don’t count the semi-permanent subs I’ve had over the years. We never reached a point where we were talking about business and living relationships. Meanwhile, Ian’s got crap all over my bathroom sink I constantly have to organize, and I’ve got crap all over his bathroom sink that… I’m constantly organizing.
We’re not moving in together… yet. On that front we’re being practical. Give it a few months, probably until the end of my lease, and then decide from there. I might downgrade to a studio apartment farther out to save some money, because there will be days I need to get away from his dominant personality, or at least to have a guaranteed escape where Ian’s forced to talk to a doorman to come up and see me.
We are most definitely not talking about marriage yet. Hilariously, I think Ian would be more relaxed about the idea than me. I’m not the type to sit here and doodle out names like, “Kathryn Mathers,” or “Kathryn Alison-Mathers.” I’m more the type to cackle at the thought of, “Ian Alison” or “Ian Alison-Mathers.”
My name sounds better in the front. Don’t you think so?
Of course it does.
I’m sitting here, smiling like an idiot while Eva mumbles about insufferable heterosexuals, when the doorbell rings.
Um, excuse me. I didn’t have anyone shown up after they buzzed in. So what’s the deal?
I warily glance at Eva before going to the door. Nobody’s there.
Nobody, but there is the city scandal rag lying at my feet.
“What the…” I don’t subscribe to this. Nevertheless, I pick it up, reading the fresh headline that makes my breath still in my chest.
“HOLLYWOOD SWEETHEART STEPHANIE MAY LIED ABOUT EVERYTHING.”
“Oh my God,” I hear Eva behind me snort. “Bring that shit in here.”
For once, I find myself obeying a fellow Domme.
The front page article is absolutely outrageous. From the first word, Stephanie May is slammed with a pile of receipts that claim she not only lied about her age – by ten years! – but that she was previously married to a man fifty years her senior and had one kid by him. A son. That she hasn’t talked to since she bailed on him five years ago.
Both Eva and I whistle.
There isn’t a kind word about her. Between the lies and the shitty, neglectful mom angle, it’s safe to say that Stephanie is having one of the worst days of her life. She’s reportedly been dropped by half her promotional contracts and a big director who was scouting her has now decided to go with another up and coming actress.
Ouch.
Inside, though, I’m howling in laughter.
This must be Caroline’s work. My hunch that she hired a private investigator must have been a good one, because this is the kind of dirt only a real pro outside of the tabloids could have dug up. Stephanie’s career is ruined. Dominic Mathers is mentioned once as her current love interest, with the paper further slamming Stephanie for moving on to the father of the man she was previously involved with.
“For more on this matter, turn to Page 6.”
Before Eva can finish reading the smack about Stephanie, I flip the pages until I’m…
I’m looking at pictures of Ian and me.
“Uh oh.”
Eva ain’t shitting. Uh oh is right.
“Romance between two powerful families? A credible source states that playboy Ian Mathers and Kathryn Alison, a local rich philanthropist, are getting serious. The couple has been seen enjoying time alone at high-profile restaurants and, most recently, at the opening ball for the reopened Grand Hotel. But that’s not all! Rumor also has it that these two share more in common than money and work projects. Both Mathers and Alison are known dominant personalities in the local kink scene. So who’s serving who? A photo too salacious to print suggests that it’s Ms. Alison who is making some changes to her personal life.”
Eva yanks the paper from my hands and tosses it onto the garbage.
We’re silent. My gut says call Ian, but my gut also really wants to throw up.
