Fulfilled (10 page)

“Lois? Sweetheart, talk to me. Is this your first time?”

He barely heard the affirmative. Was she ashamed? Embarrassed? He gathered her close and just held her, his heart swelling even as his brain floundered to accept the information. His cock didn’t care. It wanted in and wasn’t interested in semantics. He rolled with her and relished her slight weight. Her eyes popped open, and any embarrassment took a back seat to a look of intrigue.

“Sit up.”

She pressed her little hands on his pecs, and he winced at the tender touch. She slithered back and straddled him, her pussy painting a delicious track along his belly, and unerringly planted that steamy grotto right on his cock. Instinct. Jon groaned. She looked startled, then pleased. He nearly came when she impulsively leaned forward and pressed her lips to his chest then worked her kitten tongue up to his nipple. Fuck. He needed to come and get it over with, start over again with iron control. All night long.

“Lois.” His voice grated in the room, and she sat back up, looking worried.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I just want to come inside you. Put me inside, take what you can.”

She hitched upward, giving him an intriguing glimpse of pussy, shadowed by wet curls. She nibbled on her bottom lip, intent on her task, and he prayed for control as she hesitantly grasped him, stroking him through the latex.

“So hard, so hot. Big.” He heard her cataloging him and chewed the inside of his cheek raw. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She had no idea what her touch was doing to him. She carefully positioned herself over his cockhead and settled ever so slightly. She looked him right in the eye and visibly decided to do it no matter the cost. She reminded him of the times his mom would line them all up for their spoonful of cod liver oil, a prophylactic against the flu in her mind. The memory cooled his jets, and he was able to direct her.

“Sweetheart, it’s not a punishment. It’ll be pleasure. You’re wet and slippery. Let it slide in. Take your time.”

She commenced on an infinitesimally slow journey that had him grinding his teeth and holding hard against lifting his hips to help. She worked the head just inside the tight ring guarding her channel and smiled at him in triumph. Her cream flowed and scalded him right through the condom, and he groaned again. It inspired her, for she pressed downward. Her intent scrutiny on his cock as it entered her swollen cunt was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. Her expression reflected every dragging fraction of an inch as her sheath stretched around him, giving way against the relentless invasion, aided by gravity. Her head fell back as he came up against her cervix, and she stilled, the arch and curve of her torso an erotic apostrophe above him. Her breasts lifted with each breath, the nipples a deep, deep pink, hair spilling down her back to tickle his thighs. He clasped her hips and lifted her slightly, letting gravity to do the rest, over and over until her thighs clenched to take her weight, and she began to ride him. He feasted again, this time with his eyes, devouring the sight of his woman coming into her sensuous own. A judicious use of his thumb on her clit had her grinding and circling her pelvis. He gathered himself and pushed her hard as she went over, sobbing her release, whispering his name. His cum blew out of his shaft, and his balls throbbed wildly. Lois collapsed on his chest, her pussy a spent, slight, whiskery weight against his groin. He wrapped her up, pressing a kiss on her sweaty temple. He waited for her to speak, to say something, but she was slack and boneless. A faint sound pushed past her lips, again, and then again. His woman was asleep, fucked into oblivion by yours truly. He smiled with huge satisfaction and followed suit, blanketed by utter sweetness.

Lois awoke. She had no idea where she was or what she was lying on. She pried her eyes open, and memories of the previous night crashed through her languor. She admired a delineated pectoral and a defined bicep. Her fingers fluttered across heated skin, her cheek pillowed on pure muscle. She took stock of the rest of her. Her hips ached dully, probably because her thighs were spread wide across Jonathon’s pelvis, her knees tucked beside his hips. A log filled her sex, pulsing slightly with her every breath. Oh my. She’d done the deed, and it was amazing. Except she was sore all over, especially between her legs.

“Using a condom twice isn’t the preferred form of protection, sweetheart. Patrick’s going to be pissed enough that you haven’t had your medical. At least we can tell him we used a condom.” Jonathon’s breath stirred the hair on the top of her head.

She raised up a little to look at him. “I’m new at this, Jonathon. So I’m safe. And I imagine you are, what with this being your profession and all.”

That came out wrong. She made him sound like a sex professional. He chuckled at what she was certain was a look of horror. She
felt
horrified.

“I’m safe, little one.”

She shifted a little, wincing in concert with him. She was pretty sure
he
wasn’t hurting, so his was a good wince. Maybe.

“But while I’d like a baby sometime, this wouldn’t be the time,” she advised.

He broke eye contact and brought his hands to her hips, carefully lifting her off of him. Her channel clung, not wanting him to leave her. It clenched on emptiness, and she thought maybe she wasn’t too sore and he could use another condom. She collapsed beside him and whimpered a little. Sore for sure.

“Shit, Lois. You’ll be stiff. I’ll fix that.” He kneaded her hip joints and her glutes. The pain diminished and was replaced with something else. Arousal. To be honest, she’d been aroused from the moment she opened her eyes and saw her innovative mattress. So was Jonathon, although she knew men often woke up with an erection. But something had changed. He’d disengaged and not just physically.

He dealt with the condom, pulling tissues from the box beside the bed and then stood. Was there a part of the man that wasn’t muscled and toned? His buttocks were a work of art. She decided she was an ass woman and reached to stroke the closest cheek to her. He turned and gave her a look.

“I could see restraints in your future.”

“Okay.”

He laughed.

She hadn’t heard him laugh a lot, but this sounded forced. A tiny niggle of worry insinuated itself in her head.

“Up, Lois. We’ll shower and then talk.”

He pulled her onto her feet and guided her to the adjoining bathroom. She used the toilet while he turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature, uncomfortable with both the lack of privacy and tenderness of her sex.

“I’m not big on modesty, Lois. There wouldn’t be a part of you that wouldn’t belong to me. But we’d agree on what you can tolerate.”

Mind reader supreme. Well, she supposed it came with the training. The tense seemed wrong though. Like this wasn’t a done deal. If, not when. He gestured to the shower, and she stepped inside, instantly enveloped in warmth and comfort for her aches and pains. She heard him use the toilet, then his bulk against her back complimented the actual shower. He washed her from head to feet, being especially gentle at her sex, although she raised up on her toes when he worked her clitoris with an extra dollop of soap. She peaked and came, her pussy clenching, buttocks trembling.

“You’d get this only at my hand, Lois.”

Training. She’d read about this, and for an instant thought to tell him she’d only just learned to masturbate and didn’t want to give it up so soon. But he was better at making her come anyhow. She decided to agree and hope he wouldn’t keep distancing himself.

“Okay.”

“So obedient, little one.” He rinsed her hair and set her in the corner while he washed himself. She wanted to help, touch that hard body, and beseeched him with her eyes.

“Not today, Lois. We need to talk.”

Talk. Okay, talking was good. So why was she beginning to worry? She had just met him. It’d felt right, but now something felt wrong. Like the recent orgasm had been a kiss off. But how would she really know that? She was so new to this.
Look before you leap, Lois. Be careful what you wish for, Lois.
She mutinously shoved her mother’s caustic voice out of her head.

He wrapped her up in an enormous bath sheet and dropped a hand towel over her sopping hair before securing another towel around his waist. He led her to the bedroom and coaxed her to sit between his thighs while he rubbed her hair dry, combing his fingers through its length.

He spoke behind her, and she detected a note of wistfulness. “I wouldn’t want you to cut this, little one.”

She nodded and waited for him to speak. What was going on? He kept talking as though there were conditions…Cold tingled in her belly, joining that niggle of worry, spiraling out into her extremities. She wasn’t enough for him. Wasn’t what he expected or wanted. She didn’t think he was the kind of man to have sex with a woman and dump her after using her, but what did she know? She lacked any experience, but fear of rejection didn’t require experience. She worked hard, harder than she’d ever worked before at not letting her anxiety show, schooling her body as never before. It was easier because he wasn’t looking at her either.

“First of all, we would have to wait for the medical. Patrick isn’t going to be happy with me, although I walked the line. I’ve never enjoyed vanilla sex so much, honey, and I’m honored to be your first.”

Okay, maybe he wasn’t kicking her to the curb. So what was it? Enough. Where was all this famed communication preached ad nauseam? The cornerstone of BDSM. She pulled out of his loose hold and faced him. He set his hands at her waist and met her look. He visibly pushed the words out.

“I wanted to train you in this Lifestyle, Lois. At first I wouldn’t admit to it being more than training, but I knew it was more. Instant attraction, whatever, at first sight. No denying it. I was even prepared to quit training subs, at least until we could discuss it further. And abstain from being sexual with other women.”

He probably thought he could convince her of anything and he might be right. She didn’t seem to have much will around him, pretty much trusted him and was willing to follow, but she wasn’t ever going to be accepting of other women. She sought to begin a conversation to address it.

“I feel it, too. And I know it’s your job but still…”

He looked at her and shrugged. The arrogance was there, the certainty he could convince and manage her. So why did he look uncertain?

“I have to know what you want. Are kids part of your future plan?” He sounded distant again.

What? Surely this was a premature discussion. Jonathon’s reaction to Nathan flickered through her head, as did his response to her comment about not wanting to risk pregnancy so quickly, made not an hour ago. Was it because he was black? Did he not want a mixed-race child? Might his family have an issue?

“Lois, quit thinking and talk to me. It’s a simple question.”

No, it wasn’t. It was loaded with innuendo and seethed with portents she couldn’t interpret, and it terrified her.

“Lois.”

“I want children. I’m worried I’m too old, but I want them, at least one.”

Jonathon’s face closed off, and he nodded. “I thought so when I saw you with Nathan. And you’re a nanny. Nannies obviously like kids.”

He released her and got up, giving her his back. She stood riveted, yet adrift, confused, watching him find a pair of boxers in his dresser and pull them on. Jeans next, and a tight gray T-shirt completed his ensemble. Armor. He looked amazing and unapproachable. Her heart tried to take shelter but had nowhere to run. He picked up her clothes and came to dress her. Like a child. Lois stepped away, and her bra hung from his hand, limp like her hopes and dreams.

“What is it, Jonathon?” She made herself ask. A person might not like the answer, but it was better than wondering. “What’s wrong?”

“Get dressed and we’ll have breakfast. I don’t want to do this on an empty stomach.”

She dressed automatically, pulling her underwear on under the cover of the towel, then her jeans. She snatched her bra away from him, fighting panic, noting the way his eyes narrowed in warning but she didn’t care. It was her turn to turn away. She tugged it up her arms, over her breasts and snagged the catch, pulling her shirt on. She folded the towels and took them back to the bathroom where she avoided looking in the mirror at all costs. She scooped up her coat and purse, toed into her shoes and went to stand by the door, like a dog waiting to be kicked out into the cold. Loser. Stupid loser.

“Lois. Little one, don’t take on like that. I just need to explain…”

She shook her head and stared at the floor. He hardly sounded the Dom, and it frightened her even more. He sighed again and pulled the door open. She walked through, planning her next move. She had enough money in her purse for a cab, a really good thing, because she wasn’t letting him drive her anywhere. He took her arm and led her in the opposite direction down the hallway and they went down a flight of stairs to a restaurant. Not really a restaurant, but there were tables and chairs set in an atrium. Her brain catalogued wonderful smells emanating from the commercial kitchen and a couple sat at a table by the window, sharing breakfast. Her stomach roiled and rejected the idea of food. Jonathon escorted her to sit as far away from the others as possible.

“Coffee?”

She wasn’t hungry. She wanted to go home and lick her wounds and remember the best parts of their time together. “Please. Black.”

“What do you want to eat?”

“Coffee’s good.”

“I wasn’t giving you an option about breakfast, Lois. I was giving you a choice. You need to eat.”

He was annoying her, pretending to care for her, playing the Dom while he set the scene to reject her. She set her lips and forced a few words through them. “Toast. Thank you.”

He stalked away, and she focused on a pattern of sunlight marbling the floor tiles and spilling onto a fall of ivy. This could be a soothing place and was so at odds with the rest of the club. She supposed everybody needed a peaceful place. She would need to find one of her own, maybe a million miles away on a yet undiscovered island. She hoped he’d soon be back and get it over with because it still didn’t make any sense. Not that it had to make sense. Her chest hurt in an interesting way. She’d never felt it before, and she didn’t like it at all.