Coda (3 page)

“Arms good?”

I roll my shoulders and shake my arms a
little before nodding. He seems satisfied with that response and
moves behind me, spreading me wide again with one hand. Two thick
fingers slide along the seam of my ass until he reaches the ginger
and deftly removes it, tossing it in a nearby trashcan. I’d sort of
forgotten it was there—as unbelievable as that seems—but now, with
it gone, the emptiness I already felt is even more intense.

The tear of a wrapper is so loud to my
hypersensitive ears it’s almost deafening. A new flood of moisture
soaks my inner thighs because I know now, finally, he’s going to
fuck me. Leaning forward on my elbows, ass in the air, I press my
face to the carpet and sob. I need this so very much, it’s
overwhelming, almost more than I can bear.

Todd leans over my back, his erection rubbing
over my heated bottom, and grabs my hair again, pulling me back up
on my hands. The minute he releases me, though, I begin to sink
down on my forearms again and he growls his displeasure, hauling me
up and smacking me hard on the bottom. The impact is strong enough
I’m sure he’s left a handprint and the bruised welts from the cane
respond with a pleasant throb. I imagine what it must look like and
wish I could see it. Maybe it will still be there later and I can
take a peek in the bathroom mirror. I want to remember the way my
ass looks with the shape of his hand overlaying the stinging red
lines he’d left earlier with the cane.

Determined to keep me in this position, he
doesn’t let go of my hair this time. With one fluid movement, he
shifts behind me and buries his cock in my pussy. The sense of
fullness and satisfaction is so complete I scream with relief. He
resumes his earlier driving pace, slamming into me over and over.
My muscles flutter and contract, embracing his erection each time
it slides over my g-spot. He tugs on my hair hard, using it for
leverage, and my neck arches sharply so I’m staring at the ceiling.
Or, would be, if I weren’t still wearing the blindfold.

One of Todd’s rules for his submissive
partners, and one of the most difficult for me, is that they are
not allowed to climax until after he does. Every cell in my body is
begging for release—has been since I peeled the ginger—and it’s
difficult for me to hold that back now. Especially because he likes
to draw things out in a dance of deprivation. It’s beautiful,
horrible torture. I try to focus on my breathing, the bite of the
carpet on my already rug burned knees, anything to distract myself
from the swelling tide of pleasure that is sure to sweep me under
if I let down my resistance for even a fraction of a second.

“Fuck. So good.” Todd paws at the strings
holding the blindfold in place and when it finally comes free, I
whimper and squint, my already watering eyes oversensitive to the
light. He leans over my back then, one hand encircling my throat
and turning my face awkwardly to the side. With the other hand, he
reaches under me, slapping my clit with two fingers. Groaning
miserably, I squeeze my eyes closed, wishing I still had the
blindfold. If I came now, without his permission, it wouldn’t be
the first time. But today, I’d rather die than orgasm first because
I don’t want our last encounter to be disappointing for either of
us. And he’s so close, I can feel his cock throb inside of me. I
just need to hold on a little bit longer.

“Gonna come.”

I jerk my head, intending to nod but not
really able to do so properly.

“Come with me.”

He spanks my clit again, sending a bolt of
intense pleasure throbbing through my veins to settle in my pussy
with a bloom of scalding heat. I’m so lost in that feeling it takes
me a second to realize what he’s said. He wants me to come with
him? His declaration is so confusing, so out of character, I might
break the no-speaking-unless-spoken-to rule and ask what he meant.
But I don’t have a chance because after one more sharp slap to my
clit, he starts to stroke it, firmly and with perfect rhythm to
chase all thought away. All that’s left of me is that pulsing
cluster of nerve endings. So when he says it again, this time with
the tone of command, I’m helpless to do anything but obey.

My climax is so powerful I almost pass out.
The only thing keeping me lucid is Todd’s own shout of release.
I’ve had some pretty intense orgasms in my life—plenty of them with
Todd—but this one, it’s different in a way I can’t define. I gasp
for breath, hyper-aware of Todd’s hands on my body, his hips
grinding against me, his cock pulsing inside of me.

Utterly exhausted and completely spent, we
collapse together into a sweaty heap on the floor. Todd rolls away
from me, disposing of the condom, and when he returns, he gathers
me against his chest, idly caressing my back, petting and soothing
me. The last of my orgasm is drifting away and with it the freedom
I always feel during a scene. I sniffle against his chest, hating
myself even as I do it, but reality is crashing in on me. I hate
that I have to leave, I hate that things can’t be different, I hate
that Todd is a damn good man and yet, he isn’t the man for me.

Neither of us says anything for a long time
and when he finally does, I’ve managed to get some control over my
raw emotions.

“God, I wish we weren’t so fucked up,
Jen.”

That was the wrong thing to say and I’m
immediately defensive, angry. We—Todd and Jen, as a unit—are
not
fucked up. We might have a non-traditional relationship,
and certainly there’s no love of the romantic variety involved, but
we are steady, reliable. I always know what to expect from Todd and
I depended on the structure and stability he provided. Most people
wouldn’t understand it, but it had worked well for us for almost
four years. It would still be working well for us if I hadn’t made
a fool of myself over his best friend. How dare he say
we
were fucked up?

Ready to argue and tell him how cruel it is
to say such a thing, I tip my head to look at him but the
expression on his face brings me up short. I stare, sputtering, and
try to hide that the vulnerability in his eyes is breaking my
heart. He didn’t mean that we, together, were fucked up. He meant
that we, individually, were fucked up and I couldn’t very well
argue with that because he was absolutely right.

“Yeah, me, too.” I’m still a little
breathless and I hope he can hear my sincerity.

“You don’t have to go, you know. We could
work around—”

“Yes, I do. Maybe it’s better this way
anyway.” I lay my head back on his chest because it’s just too hard
to look at him while we talk about this.

“How do you figure?”

“Well, I think maybe we’re codependent. Or
something like that. We make each other feel better but that’s not
necessarily making us better.”

Todd’s quiet for a moment, thoughtful. I can
almost hear the wheels turning in his head as he considers what
I’ve said. Finally, he simply shrugs and says, “Yeah, maybe. I
don’t know.”

“Where are Kim and Suzie?” I’d been so upset
when he first came home, and so distracted since then, it hadn’t
occurred to me to wonder until now where they were. But they live
here with him, just like I do —did. So their absence was definitely
planned.

“The mall. Suzie snatched my credit card and
said something about massages and pedicures and who knows what the
fuck else.” Todd snorts before adding, “They’ll be home in a
while.”

I pull away from him and get up, retrieving
the clothes I’d left on the dresser when I packed earlier. I start
to dress and ask, “Will you tell them I said goodbye?”

“You don’t have to go right this second, Jen.
Why don’t you wait and say goodbye yourself?” Todd gets up and sits
on the edge of the bed, watching me with apprehension.

“No. I can’t…I don’t want…No. I’m sorry. Will
you just tell them?” My voice is cracking like a teenage boy and it
hurts to swallow around the lump in my throat. It’s hard enough to
leave. The prospect of seeing Suzie and Kim, of having to say
goodbye to them, it’s just too much.

“Okay, sure.”

Avoiding Todd’s gaze, I finish dressing in
silence. When I’m done, Todd wraps the towel around his hips again
and walks with me to the front door. I pick up my two bags, still
unable to look at him, and mumble, “There’s a couple of boxes in my
bedroom still. When I figure out where I’m going to end up I’ll let
you know, if you could ship them to me or something.”

“Hey, I’ll hand deliver them if you stay in
the area.” His voice is warm, affectionate, and it makes it all the
harder to say what I need to say.

“I think it’s best if you don’t, Todd. I
think…” I trail off lamely, uncertain how to tell him that I’ll
always care about him but that I don’t think we should see one
another again. Probably, ever.

“I get it.” He nods briskly and sounds a
little hurt but I think he really does get it. If nothing else,
Todd is always pretty good at understanding me. Takes a broken
person to know one, I guess.

“Goodbye, Todd.”

“Goodbye, Jen.” Todd leans forward and
brushes a soft kiss across my temple. It makes me want to linger
just a little longer. But I can’t.

It’s time to start over.

Liza Gaines grew up in Michigan before moving to
Northern Virginia in 2007. She misses her family and the Great
Lakes but has otherwise fallen in love with her adopted home
state.

The magic of getting lost in a book is one of her
favorite things and is what led her to begin writing. She also
loves cook, baking, and visiting the many historical sites in the
Mid-Atlantic with her history buff husband and their two dogs.

Email: [email protected]

Website: http://www.lizagaines.com

The Tangled Series:

Little Bird