“Try harder.” I roll my hips, allowing my eyes to close as I tunnel through my own fingers. “Better hurry, or I’ll finish without you.” I say it to tease him, to egg him on, but I’m concerned the threat could quickly become reality. “Come on, darling, work for it.”
With a feral growl, Ned yanks at the ties that bind him. The ties I cut myself and carefully frayed in strategic places. The ties that are meant to tear under pressure, because I’ve always found that instant of sudden and unexpected freedom to be half the fun of tying up a lover.
The first rip comes a moment later and Ned’s right arm shoots out towards me. His hand grips on to my arm, jerking me forwards. Our mouths meet in a clash of teeth and tongue. Everything after that is a blur of yanking limbs and tearing material. I barely manage to grab the condom, the last item I brought to the bed with me, and roll it on before Ned rips himself completely free and tackles me to the mattress.
The heat of him swallows my cock whole and he clamps down hard. My still slick hand wraps around his steel and velvet shaft. I try to keep time with his frantic thrusts, but I can barely think as we move and heave together. My free hand slides around the back of his neck and I grip on tight, my nails digging in one more time. He keens loudly and when he comes, he takes me with him.
I have no idea how long it lasts, the waves of pleasure that wash over me as I lie pinned beneath his shuddering form. All I know is that I love him. With all that I am—good and bad, shallow and deep. I want him to be mine forever, so I never have to let him go.
TWENTY-SEVEN
______
NED
After our breathing finally slows, Toni rises from the bed. Pulling me to my feet, he removes the remains of my bindings and leads me to the small bathroom. He doesn’t turn on the light, instead relying on the illumination filtering in from the bedroom lamp as he readies the shower.
The water is hot when I follow him into the stall. Clouds of steam billow around us. Toni pours a generous portion of shampoo onto his hand before massaging it into my scalp. I breathe the familiar scent in deep, the thought of smelling like him sending me into a state of rapture. I reach for him, but he brushes my hands away. “Let me take care of you,” he whispers. With a tired smile, I nod and give myself over to his care.
When he’s done with my hair, he moves on to the rest of me. His hands and mouth are thorough as they wander my body with sensual strokes and soft kisses. He takes every liberty I’ve ever wanted him to have. Slipping his tongue into my mouth. Dipping wet fingers into my hole. Sucking on my spent dick until I whimper and moan. He pays particular attention to the red lines he carved in my skin. They’ve already begun to fade. Soon they’ll be gone, but never forgotten.
Shutting off the water, he dries me with an enormous fluffy towel and tugs me back to bed. Warm blankets cover us before he rolls me onto my side and moves in behind me. His warmth presses against my back from chest to knees, and I snuggle in deeper.
I’m already half asleep when he shifts my top leg forwards, bending it up towards my chest. I move to his will, trusting him with my body, my heart, my soul. And when he pushes his hard length inside me, I let him. Even though my breath hitches. Even though it’s almost too much.
Tremors ripple through me. A low, broken moan rumbles inside my chest. I lay there, teetering helplessly between willing him deeper and wanting him gone. Then he begins to move, so slowly, so gently, and the tremors make way for sighs.
He scatters kisses between my shoulder blades. One hand fondles my chest, stomach, thighs. Each thrust ends with a grind of his hips or a flick of my nipple, and I bury my face in the pillow to muffle my cries.
This is what I’ve wanted for so very long. To give myself to someone—utterly. To open myself up to a man who will take care in claiming me for his own. A man who won’t hesitate to take what he wants from me, knowing my surrender is the greatest gift I will ever have to offer.
Just when I think my over-sensitised flesh can take no more, I come apart. Coaxed into a million distinct and perfect pieces by the slow, easy undulations of his everything against mine. I’m only half-hard, and a mess of sensation, but this blissful disintegration feels like the most profound orgasm of my life. I am forever altered, mended, rearranged to fit. I am his.
I float for a while, suspended on the afterglow. Toni leaves the bed, returns a few moments later. He climbs beneath the covers in front of me this time. Wraps his arms around me. Kisses my nose.
Lifting my eyelids, I sigh with contentment. “I love you.” I say the words because they can’t wait another second. They belong to him as much as the rest of me, and I want him to have them.
A blinding smile appears on his face, bringing his dimples along for the ride. “And I love you, so much.”
We’re both still grinning like fools when I close my eyes and allow myself to drift off to sleep.
* * *
I’m quiet today. It’s not just the lack of words coming from my mouth. Or the lack of movement as I sprawl on Toni’s couch plucking the strings of the guitar I’ve taken to leaving here in his office. I’m quiet on the inside.
Zac is gone. The last vestiges of his power over me torn to shreds and discarded on Toni’s bedroom floor, along with the scraps of material he used to force my freedom. Even thinking of Zac now, remembering all that happened between us, I feel... detached.
This sense of calm won’t last forever. The human brain isn’t known for abandoning deeply held beliefs overnight. But for now, I can breathe freely, and I’m determined to make good use of the unexpected reprieve.
Most of the day has been spent reflecting on my life and the choices I’ve made, for better or worse. It’s time I made peace with them, so I can move on and make new choices, free from the influences of the past. I have no clue what a life lived on my own terms will look like. All I know, is that I want Toni to be a part of it.
He went off to work this morning with a dreamy, dimpled grin, but only after I promised to still be here when he gets back. We’ll have about ninety minutes to eat dinner together before I have to leave for my Friday night shift at the pub.
I wish I didn’t have to go. Working most nights of the week, either at the pub or playing gigs with the band, wasn’t a problem when I was single. But I have a boyfriend now, and I intend to keep it that way. Toni has taken to doing more work at night so we can spend time together during the day, but I know working nights doesn’t come naturally to him. My doe-eyed Jack Frost is, without a doubt, a morning person.
In an ideal world, I’d quit my job at the pub and spend my evenings either on stage or in Toni’s arms. It’s not like I’m pulling beers and pouring cheap wine because I love it so much. When I began tending bar in Sydney, it was for convenience’s sake. I needed money to support myself until I could earn a living wage through my music; tending bar was the first job I could get. I never did make enough to quit the extra job. Zac made sure of it, I realise now. When I moved back to Brisbane, working in another pub seemed like the easiest option. I took it.
There’s nothing wrong with bar work. I don’t hate it. It’s just not what I want to do with my life.
