Handling Cynthia: A Second Chances Novella (9 page)

He positioned her on her back with her legs dangling off the side. She relaxed into the mattress, feeling dreamy but incredibly aroused. She didn't know what Trent had in mind, but she knew it would be amazing.

He sank to his knees. Skirt up, panties forgotten somewhere by the couch, she moaned as he flicked his tongue against her clit.

"So wet." He thrust a finger inside. "Don't come until I say you can."

She whimpered at his admonition, already so turned on from the spanking she worried the slightest touch would set her off.

He massaged her G-spot with his fingers as his mouth worked her folds. She rocked against him in a slow, gentle rhythm, needing more, more, more. No one had ever sucked her like this before, focused so intensely on her pleasure. Yet every time it seemed he was about to take her to the brink, he pulled back.

She thought about Rick, how he had disliked cunnilingus—while Trent was a master at it. Why had she wasted so much time? She loved Rick, he was a great guy, but Trent was a rock star.

His tongue pushed inside, circling. She thrust toward him. The heat built in her clit, the pleasure sharpening. "Please, sir. Need to come."

"Not yet, or I'll tie you up and sit you in the corner."

Hell, that's hot.
His threats aroused her as much as the punishment itself. She had no idea her submissive nature was so powerful. She wanted to give him whatever he demanded, test her limits. See what she could take.

He pushed her legs farther apart and she bucked, her tender ass rubbing against the rough hotel sheets. "This is mine," he said, nipping at her clit.

Lightning shot through her. "Yes, sir." She writhed beneath him, orgasm threatening but out of reach.

"Come now," he ordered, and sucked the tender bud.

She arched into the rolling waves of pleasure. One after another they came, exhausting her. She lay flat and whimpering as Trent rose and pushed into her. He braced her feet on his shoulders, kissing her ankles as he filled her, and screaming her name as his climax rocked him.

Rick's parents' home sat on a hilltop, with November winds whipping across the open lawn. The grass had turned brown and crunchy, and the summer flowers had withered to hard stalks. By contrast, inside, a fire raged in the family room, warming the sun-drenched space. The décor was vintage 1990s, the kitchen sporting white cabinets and blue marbled Corian countertops. A round table and hutch in the breakfast nook were country oak.

Cyn stood at the sink, rinsing the lunch dishes and handing them to Erica, Rick's mother, to load into the dishwasher. The familiar rhythm steadied Cyn, quieting the discomfort she had felt coming back after being away so long.

In the afternoon rays streaming through the window, Erica's chin-length golden brown hair shone. Two shades lighter than Cyn remembered, the color suited Erica's age and skin tone. She was still trim thanks to her daily swims at the Y. She had welcomed Cyn so openly, it was as if nothing had changed.

"Nice how the men left the work for us to do." Kat set a stack of plates next to the sink. She was easily recognizable as Rick's sister: high cheekbones, aquiline nose, dark wavy hair. They shared their dad's coloring—or rather, what had once been his coloring, before his hair had turned to more salt than pepper.

"Jordan offered to help." Cyn rinsed the silverware. "Your mom told him no."

"If the men are here bothering us, we can't talk about them."

"Why would we want to talk about them?" Kat asked. "Let's talk about whether I should go to law school at Yale or Stanford."

"Why don't you go to Penn?" her mother asked.

"Because Penn's not one of the top three law schools in the country."

"It's in the top ten, and it's an hour away."

"You say that like it's a good thing."

Cyn smiled. Kat was different from her mom, more independent, less amenable. But each in her own way was devoted to family. That encompassing love had welcomed Cyn when she dated Rick, strengthening the attachment. Despite the breakup and five years of estrangement, this kitchen was a calming place.

Muted cheers came from the den off the foyer, where the men were watching the football game. Her high school dreams came rushing back: she and Rick married, with a couple of toddlers tumbling in the adjacent family room while she and his mother cooked the big Sunday meal.

The comfort of that life lured her like a dry hearth to a sodden traveler. The scent of brewing coffee intensified the promise. Life with Rick's family was easy. Not so with Trent.

Trent's mom was a chemist with a pharmaceutical company, his dad a lawyer. Their house had a chef's kitchen, but Cyn had never seen anyone cook in it. Trent's brother, ten years his junior, hadn't dared take his toys out of the playroom. It was as if the family were in a constant state of expecting an HGTV film crew to arrive.

Maybe that explained why control was important to Trent. Whether he'd inherited or absorbed his parents' rigid self-discipline, he liked things orderly and planned. He analyzed new ideas and tested them for flaws, as if life were a science experiment.

Those qualities could make him a good Dom, but Cyn would never be able to live with the kind of structure his parents did. She needed autonomy, the freedom to try and fail without anyone evaluating her. Art was a messy process. Sometimes she'd wake up with a good idea and stumble into her office without brushing her hair. She might not shower until late afternoon. In between she might type three thousand words, and delete a thousand of them.

Where did Trent's idea of submission 24/7 fit with that? Power exchange excited her, but negotiating it would be more difficult than she expected. As hot as last night had been—and yes, she had to admit it, this morning—what if her desires and Trent's didn't mesh?

"Last one?" Erica took the plate Cyn handed her and loaded it into the dishwasher. Cyn adjusted her head space to the very vanilla domestic scene, with its plaques of inspirational sayings and photos of Rick and Kat as children.

They headed to the breakfast nook, where Kat had mugs of coffee waiting. Erica scowled. "Where's the cream pitcher?"

"We can pour straight from the carton this once," Kat said. "The dishwasher is already full."

Erica sighed and pursed her lips, but said nothing more.

"How's school?" Cyn asked as they sat. "Seeing anyone special?"

Kat grinned. "They're all special."

Erica shook her head.

"There's no point in getting involved with someone when I don't know where I'll be six months from now." Kat took Cyn's hand. "What about you? You can't seriously be single?"

"I've got my eye on someone, but I don't know whether it'll work out. I mean, I hope it does." She sipped her coffee and brushed her hair back from her forehead. "I'm worried maybe we want different things."

"Having the same values is important," Erica said, "and the same major goals. But relationships are about compromise. The two of you don't start in the same place. The question is, can you find a way to come together?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out." Her eyes alighted on a photo of herself and Rick before the junior prom. They looked so dorky, Rick with his limbs too long for his body, her with too much neckline and not enough cleavage. They'd both filled out since then. But they looked happy. Rick had been comfortable and easy.

"I never thought I'd say this." Cyn's voice sounded far away, even to herself. "I miss high school. The intensity of it. Even though half the time it sucked, the other half was like flying."

"Everything was new," Erica said. "The things you felt, you thought they'd last forever. You didn't have the experience of getting over it."

"That's kind of what I write about in my novels, except the characters are college aged. First real love. First real heartbreak."

"You don't think you and Rick had love?" Kat asked. "It looked like love to me."

"I don't know what we had. A reasonable facsimile, maybe, which is probably the most some people have their whole lives. Being in a couple is easier than being alone."

Kat raised her brows and sat back. "Not if it's the wrong couple."

"You sound like you speak from experience."

"So many girls are starved for male attention, they'll put up with a lot of shit. I'm not one of them. I don't need a lover to make me feel good about myself."

"That's not what I meant, exactly…"

"It's in our nature to pair up," Erica said. "And it's not only about finding someone who'll be a great lover. You also want him to be a great dad."

"Rick will definitely be a great dad." Cyn let out a sigh, chest constricting. This weekend was messing with her head. She was actually missing what she and Rick had. She hadn't felt that way since the first time a man went down on her after she and Rick broke up. It wasn't that Rick was a selfish lover. He always made sure she came. His repertoire was more limited than she would have liked.

"I know he misses you," Erica said. "We all do."

"I'm sorry I stayed away so long," Cyn replied. "I…never thought I fit in here, in this town. But I did have some good friends. I shouldn't have abandoned you."

"That's how it goes sometimes. Kids grow up, their priorities change."

"You were so good to me. You deserved better."

Erica squeezed her hand. "You're here now. And you and Rick are both single. He still talks about how amazing you are."

Heat flushed Cyn's face.
I should have seen that coming.

"Mom, you're scaring her to death," Kat said. "It's not like he's pining away. He says all his ex-girlfriends are amazing."

"She and Rick are older and wiser now. Maybe they could work out their differences."

"I loved him." Cyn chose her words carefully. "Still do. But we weren't compatible."

"You were together for three years. Of course you were compatible. The only reason you broke up was because of college."

"That's not the only reason." Kat stirred her coffee, the spoon jingling against the porcelain.

Erica ignored her. "Now that you decided to indie publish, you don't need to stay in New York. You could move to a nice house in the suburbs. Allentown isn't that far from the city."

"Geography wasn't the only problem," Kat said. "Leave it alone, Mom."

"You seem to know all about it," Erica said in a sharp voice.

"Cyn was like the big sister I never had. We talked."

Erica scowled. "Is this about sex?"

She couldn't hide a smile.

"You don't think Rick has learned a few things in five years?" Erica asked.

She put a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. "The spark…it isn't there. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get your hopes up."

Cyn's shoulders relaxed when Rick's dad, Steve, entered the kitchen with Jordan, putting an end to the interrogation. Steve cut himself half a slice of pumpkin pie.

"How's the football game?" Erica asked. "Penn State winning?"

"Don't know," Steve said. "Jordan's making us watch the Princeton game."

"They're having a good year." Jordan poured a mug of coffee.

“Jordy, honey,” Erica said, “could you get me a refill?”

"Sure." He brought the carafe and filled her mug, leaving enough room at the top for the cream.

Rick and Trent emerged from den, joking and shoving each other like the best buds they were. Cyn's heart filled to see the genuine friendship between them.

Trent wasn't truly jealous of Rick, was he? Because that wouldn't work. Rick would always be a part of her. She still called him sometimes when she had a problem to talk through. He had a head for business she didn't. She wasn't going to give up their friendship.

She glanced over at Trent, and he met her eyes in a heated gaze. A shudder rippled over her. With a tickle in her stomach, she turned away. She didn't want anyone to see that look between them. Not while this relationship, or whatever it was, was so new.

The men settled into the family room, and Kat joined them. Rick came and sat in the breakfast nook with a slice of cherry cheese pie and a cup of milk. Eyes on Cyn, he said to his mom, "Doesn't Cyn look pretty?"

She froze, holding her breath, unsure what to make of that remark.

"She's always been a pretty girl. Smart, too. Have you read her novels? She's very talented."

Her gut tensed. "You've read my novels?"

"Of course," Erica said. "I don't mind the spicy stuff."

Cyn shook her head. "I should have used a pen name."

"Don't be embarrassed." Erica turned to Rick. "Why aren't you watching the game? Isn't halftime over?"

"Tired of sitting around."

"Maybe you could go to a movie. I hear
Gravity
is good."

"Yeah, maybe," Rick said absently. "I'll see what Jordy and Trent want to do."

"I'm sure they could find something else to occupy themselves."

Rick rolled his eyes. "Mom, Cyn doesn't want to go on a date with me. She got enough of me in high school. She only stayed with me so long because she was too young to know better." He winked at Cyn.

A part of her opened up, the part that had loved him at sixteen. He was the most popular boy in school, and she was an outsider, but with him she was a queen. Unfailingly kind and polite, he listened when she was upset, and they worked it out. He sure as hell didn't tell her she needed a spanking, and give her one even after she said no.

That's not fair
, her conscience told her. She'd consented. The spanking hurt, but she
wanted
it to hurt. The sex had left her almost weeping with pleasure.

The problem was that she and Trent weren't communicating properly. He was pushing 24/7 on her, and she wasn't ready for that. Maybe she never would be. It was a complicated mess, and she had no idea how to resolve it.

***

In the family room, Trent tried to focus on the football game on the big screen TV in the corner. Kat was sitting with him on the leather couch, back against the arm, knees bent over his lap. His arm dangled between her calves. He smiled, remembering her losing a tooth at his eighth birthday party. She was like the kid sister he never had.

He could hear fragments of conversation from the kitchen but couldn't follow it. Not that he was eavesdropping, but it bothered him that Rick was in the kitchen with Cyn. He had no cause to feel that way. She wouldn't respect him if he acted jealous for no reason. Yet Rick knew Cyn in ways Trent didn't, and yeah, that bugged him.

The Penn State quarterback completed a long pass, and the receiver ran for the end zone. Steve cheered, and Trent punched the air.

"I thought you guys were watching Princeton," Kat said. "I wanted to see Yale kick their butts."

"Princeton was way ahead at half-time," Jordan said. A running back in high school, Jordan had a good head for the game. He sat in a lounge chair adjacent to Steve, discussing strategy with him. Jordan had lost his dad, a fighter pilot, in Desert Storm, and Steve was like his surrogate father.