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Thane seemed intent on curing—no, that was the wrong word. Curingimplied disease or illness, and a hard limit was neither of those things. A hard limit was an aversion, a point-blank refusal to engage in a specific activity. It didn't matter whether it was an aversion developed through fear or trauma, or simply through personal choice. He wanted to lessen the impact, she thought with satisfaction. Yes, that was better. Thane wanted to lessen the impact of the trauma Evan had inflicted on her life, and he'd done so with the utmost care.
First with the blindfold—she didn't believe she would ever be truly comfortable with someone stealing her sight, even for a short period of time, but tonight she'd had a few seconds where a sense of safety outweighed the fear—and then with the warming lube. Granted, he'd been careful. The amount he used had been just enough to tickle her arousal awake, stimulating her labia and clit with a pleasant tingle instead of fierce burning.
She was incredibly grateful he hadn't tried to use it on her ass.
Shifting restlessly, Connie banished the memory of cold fluid splashing between her buttocks, and the long, gloved finger jabbing through her sphincter as she screamed. Luckily, the burns hadn't been too bad, just enough to leave her in a great deal of pain, and lasting scars she couldn't see without a mirror.
“This isn't napping, sugar,” Thane admonished sleepily. He slipped his hand down to cover her mound, idly toying with her clit. Her little nub protested, still feeling the bite of the crocodile clamp. The dark, delicious bite she might allow herself to be talked into experiencing again. “Close your eyes and rest while we're alone. Twenty minutes isn't long enough.”
Down to twenty already? She huffed a sigh and wriggled again, liking the response his cock gave her. He was growing erect again, the shaft resting in the valley of her ass. Good length, impressive girth. Was it any wonder her pussy felt bruised and swollen after a fucking by something that thick? Not really, she answered herself, but it was exciting to get wet again at the prospect of doing it all a second time.
Her mind ticked forward to tomorrow. Monday, her most hated day of the week. Not because it was Monday and she had to go to work, but because in all her years of practicing psychology, she'd learned how hard it was for some people to spend the weekend alone. No support system, no social life, they couldn't hold on any longer.
Caera was due back in the morning, and Connie had blotted out a definite two-hour block of time for the girl. They were working on eating and sleeping journals, which Caera dutifully filled in, but Connie understood she was fudging the hours in the sleep journal. Either to downplay her condition, or because she hoped wishful thinking might work.
After Caera, there was a consult for a patient who, after suffering a below the knee amputation, was being plagued by phantom pain. There might not be much Connie could do for him, but she would try.
Half an hour for lunch—at her desk, while she juggled her wilted sandwich from the deli a few doors down from the office and her casefiles—and then Anarchy was scheduled for her mandatory session. That could run anywhere from thirty minutes to three hours, depending on how loose her friend’s tongue was. Archie could still be taciturn during sessions, and it took a lot of prying with a metaphorical crowbar to get her to open up.
Connie frowned. Maybe if she—
Teeth bit into her shoulder, lightly enough to be taken as a warning…for now. Caught between a rough thumb and forefinger, her clit pulsed even as the rest of her went very, very still. Not wanting to trigger Thane's temper, Connie tried to relax, but her pussy started to ache alongside her captured clit.
When her eyes began to roll back in her head, she squeezed them shut. “Sir?”
“You're not napping, sugar.” His lips moved over her shoulder, the words muffled between his clenched teeth. Warm breath huffed against her skin. When he lifted his head, he rubbed his stubble over where he'd bitten, making her hips roll. “Fifteen minutes left. Orgasm or sleep?”
She clenched on emptiness. “Orgasm. Every time, Sir.”
“I love your enthusiasm, Connie. All right then, under the covers you go.” Thane released her completely, leaving her clit to throb mournfully.
She flopped herself around, staring at him in disbelief. Cocky sonofabitch. He'd moved to his back and shoved the covers down to his thickly muscled thighs, drawing her attention to the slightly mangled one she wanted to comfort. One hand was behind his head while his other fisted his cock, and he had the sheer audacity to grin at her. “You chose orgasm, sugar. I didn't say who would be receiving it. I told you to nap and you didn't, so I'm not rewarding that pretty cunt with my mouth or my fingers, and definitely not with my cock.”
Teeth bared in a mimicry of a smile, she tried not to let her intention of biting his precious dick off show in her eyes.
Thane chuckled and gave her a baleful stare. “I'll let you have your hands, Connie, but one nip of those pearly whites and there will be consequences.” He let the thick shaft go, drawing Connie's eyes to the way it slowly leaned toward his stomach, unable to stand up under its own weight. “Get that mouth to work, sugar. Time's ticking.”
A battle of wills ensued between their eyes. Thane's were determined, but calm and full of confidence. Connie had no doubt hers were the complete opposite. This wasn't something she could brat her way out of—he wouldn't let her—and while she could try talking him into something more…energetic, she realized she'd just be wasting her time.
There was something she could do, however, that would speed things up considerably.
“As you wish, Master Thane.” She sat up and leaned forward, crawling down the bed to situate herself between his thighs. Ever the gentleman, he spread them wider, and she gave him a pleasant, hopefully submissive smile in return.
Her fingers gripped him firmly at the base, and she got a real understanding of just how much girth he possessed. There was more than an inch gap between her thumb and fingertips. He felt like an iron rod sheathed in silk, his skin warm and soft. Dragging the noose of her fingers up towards the tip, she found he didn't lose much circumference, even as she reached the plum-like crown.
He wasn't as long as some of the others she'd seen in Avalon, but by God, he didn't need to be.
Bending forward, she ran her tongue over the purplish-red head, tightening her fingers around it to sensitize the flesh. She tasted the saltiness of his cum, the fresh muskiness of pre-cum leaking from the delicate hole in the center. She had a lot of tricks up her sleeves to make male subs squirm and cry, just from that alone. But that wasn't what she was aiming for.
Closing her lips over the head, Connie sucked lightly. Gauging how much she could take, how much she was prepared to take without causing her jaw damage, or worse, nicking him with her teeth. Though she shielded them with her lips, she didn't dare risk his wrath. Another inch, another, before her body went rigid at the idea of suffocating on his dick.
We've done this plenty of times before. He's thicker, that's all. Just take a deep breath in through your nose. See, we can breathe.
Her airways weren't compromised. He wasn't forcing her head down on him, he was simply sitting back and letting her direct how deeply she took him, which she appreciated. Normally, blowjobs were her version of a sub's reward after a long and pleasing scene. She hadn't sucked a cock in submission in a long time.
“You have the best mouth, sugar.” Thane groaned, low and deep, shifting his hips. “Take more of me.”
Drool puddled in her mouth, leaking from the corners of her stretched lips. More? She was struggling with the few inches she already had. But she tried, urging herself down another inch before her brain sent up warning flares for a possible choking hazard.
