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“I know.”
She doesn’t, but I decide right then that I just have to accept the challenge. I’m not a patient man, but I am in love with this woman, and I will help her, not force her, to see how devoted I am to her. I snag the fingers of her hand and walk her into the dressing room connecting to the closet—a small room with one oversize blue-and-brown plaid chair, a dresser, a standing mirror, and a full wall that is all windows, the view the ocean, the city.
I lead Faith to the chair in front of the ottoman, which is large enough that it might as well be another chair. I then hold up the mask. “Trust,” I say softly.
She reaches for it and, in the process, presses to her toes, leaning into me, her hand on my shoulder, her nipples brushing my chest. Her lips are a breath from mine. “Because it’s different here.”
“Is that a question or a statement?”
“A statement. It feels different. I’m glad you made me leave.”
I cup her head and kiss her, savoring the sweetness of those words on my tongue before I say, “Me too. But I’m glad we went, Faith. You needed to know. I just don’t want us in a place like that.”
“I felt that. I needed to feel that.” She pushes away from me just enough to slip that mask on her face.
My hands settle at her waist, my lips near her ear. “You know I like control.”
My fingers tease her nipple, and she arches into the touch and gives a choked laugh. “You love control.”
“Can I have it now, Faith?”
“I love that you ask,” she whispers.
“I don’t have control that you don’t give me. You know that. I know that. And I wouldn’t want the lie that is any other form of control. Do you know what I want right now?” I don’t give her time to reply. “I want you to feel me so completely that you know, absolutely know, that if there is one person on this earth you can be free with, it’s me.”
“I do.”
“No. But we’re a work in progress, sweetheart. You will. I promise, I will make you not just feel those things. You’ll know them.”
My hands fall away from her, and I take a step backward. She reaches for me, and I am just a finger out of reach. Her hands fall to her sides, and for nearly a full minute, I just stand there, letting her feel the absence of my touch, letting her wonder what will come next. What I will do to her. I step closer to her again, letting her feel my nearness, and she does. She inhales my scent on her instincts that tell her I’m in front of her. I lower myself to my knees, but still I don’t touch her. I hold my hands at her ankles, but still I don’t touch her. I move my hands upward. But still I don’t touch her.
“Nick,” she breathes out, and when she reaches for me, my lips curve, and I allow her fingers to tunnel into my hair.
It’s what I wanted. I wanted her to reach for me, to need me. And now that she has, then, and only then, do my hands come down on her hips, my lips to her belly. I cup her backside and lower my mouth until I’m a breath above her sex. Her fingers tighten in my hair, and I give her a tiny lick. She rewards me with a sexy, sweet moan. I suckle her nub, then swirl my tongue around it, and already she is trembling, and I can feel how on edge she is, how easily she will shatter for me, but it’s not enough. I want more. So much more. An explosion. A connection. More than an orgasm.
And suddenly I know I need to test the waters. I need to know that we are not only moving forward but that we haven’t gone backward.
I stand up, and she breathes out, “Nick,” and my name is a plea.
I answer by cupping her face and kissing her, letting her tasteheron my lips. “I’m going to spank you, Faith,” I say, needing to know she won’t hesitate. “I am not going to give you any other warning unless you tell me otherwise. Answer now. Trust me or not. Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
I sit down and take her with me, pulling her across my lap so that the cushion cradles her body, my hand on her backside. I start rubbing her cheeks, warming her backside, when I feel the punch of ignorance overwhelm me. Of course she said yes. I spanked her the first night. She knows how to shut down. She knows how to escape, andhell. I’m letting her escape me. I’m hurting the level of trust between us, not creating trust.
I inhale and lean over her, kissing her back, her shoulder, one of my hands sliding under her to her sex, fingers stroking the silky wet heat. I slip fingers inside her, my thumb still working her clit, and she was already so damn close that she stiffens and trembles into that orgasm I denied her. I don’t let her ride it all the way out, though. I want her to finish with me inside her. I shift our entire bodies, pulling her backside to my front, and I press inside her, my hand covering her breasts.
Her hand is immediately on my hand, and I thrust into her, pleasure radiating through. “God. You feel good,” I murmur next to her ear. “So damn good.”
She arches into me. “Nick, you…I…”
I pull out of her and turn her to face me, pulling away her blindfold. Pressing inside her again, I cup her backside to pull her down onto my cock before I repeat her words—“You and I is exactly right”—and then kiss her, a deep, drugging kiss, even as I do a slow thrust followed by another, and when I pull back to look at her, to breathe with her, there is a shift between us, an expanding need.
Our mouths come back together, our bodies grinding, pumping, thrusting. It’s dirty, it’s sexy, it’s fiercely addictive, and yet it is sultry, intimate. She tugs my hair free, her fingers tangling in it, tugging at it. Her teeth scraping my shoulder, mine scraping her nipple. The rise of our orgasms is slow, it seems, until it’s not. Until they’re upon us and I am cupping her breast, pinching her nipple, thrusting my cock, and she is panting out my name in such a fierce, demanding way that I am helpless to stop the explosion. I shudder, and she trembles, and we cling to each other until we collapse against each other.
Seconds, maybe minutes pass, and we lay there like that until she says, “Why didn’t you spank me?”
I pull back to look at her, stroking hair from her face. “I wanted to, but for the wrong reasons.”
