‘I’m not complaining,’ he answers, tipping my chin with his index finger, when he adds quite suddenly, ‘Though I can’t make out if you’ve done this before.’
‘This thing?’ I repeat, moving an indicative finger between us. ‘Casual sex?’
Laughter rumbles through his chest. ‘What strikes you about this situation as casual? Casual implies unintentional... a sense of happenstance. These were no accident,’ he almost growls, brushing his hand along the back of my thigh to where my leg meets ass. ‘I can’t believe you’re still red. I barely touched you.’
Downstairs, he’d licked me into oblivion by turning me to face the window and working me from behind with his mouth. I can’t recall ever coming as much as I have today, and if you’d asked me before, I’d say it wasn’t possible. Maybe it was something more to do with the way he’d used his hand intermittently to smack my ass.
Best. Dinner. Ever.
‘I agree,’ I say, burrowing closer. ‘You were very...’ What were the words?
‘Particularabout their placing?’ he offers. Try intense. Commanding. I’m sure I could come up with a few others given time. ‘I’m particular kind of man,’ he murmurs, pulling me closer still and tipping his head over my shoulder to gaze down at my smarting cheeks again.
‘I probably should’ve mentioned I bruise easily.’
The idea seems to delight him, but after a moment of silence, he speaks again. ‘You didn’t answer.’
‘About what?’
‘If you’ve done this kind of thing before. You like being spanked, you’ve enjoyed my hand around your throat, and you’ve a thing for being held down.’
‘Are you asking me if I’m kinky?’ I keep my words light to hide how I really feel.Conflicted. It’s easier in the moment, easier when my synapses are drunk on endorphins.Or half pickled by tequila. Stone sober and after the fact? I can’t explain.Won’t explain.
‘No, I’m pretty sure you are.’ His words come out in a rumble, but I’ve not time to protest as he carries on. ‘What I’m asking is if you’ve played before. Dabbled in the scene.’
I know these words from movies—from books. It’s all been theory up until now.
‘No,’ I answer quietly. ‘This is a first for me.’
‘For a complete novice, you seem pretty adventurous.’ It isn’t a statement of disbelief, but I still wasn’t sure what he could mean. Was it that I’d complied with his earlier demands? That I’d lain pliant and semi-naked in the large window as he’d gone down on me? That I’d made all the right noises as he’d bent me over that same window seat? That I’d allowed him to spank me? With his hand? With the metal spatula?
‘I hit you quite hard.’
‘I liked it.’ Disconcertingly, I feel my face reddening. It would probably match my ass on a colour chart.
‘Yes, that much was clear.’ His low laugh rumbles hollow against my ear.
‘While hating it at the same time.’ My voice is low as I impart this.
‘That sounds very normal.’
I snort because that can’t be true at all. More like abnormal. Who likes and dislikes being hurt? Pulling my head away from his chest, I prop it on my bent arm.
‘Maybe I’ve watched a lot of porn.’ It was a truth I hadn’t meant to share. I should’ve started by mentioning the books.
As he laughs heartily, I cover my eyes with my hand.
‘And how was it for you, darling?’ he asks, once his laughter becomes manageable.
‘It wasn’t exactly satisfactory, but it took off the edge.’ My skin tingles with the admission, but at least I can laugh at myself. Even if I’m laughing alone. I’d started watching mainstream porn some time ago and, in a moment of feministic defiance, subscribed to a woman-centric site. It was there I’d found the delights of bondage. A little S&M. Fifty Shades has a lot to answer for, though truthfully, I can trace my interest farther back than that.Much farther back. With a small shrug and a smile, I try to disguise how hard the admission is.
‘What else?’ Dan asked, his sultry tone encouraging our game of show and tell. ‘When did your interest start?’
‘I think, if I’m honest, it’s always been there.’ My answer is quiet, and I find I can’t look at him, instead pulling at a loose thread on the pillow holding Dan’s head. ‘When I was a little girl, I wasn’t much interested in dolls. I loved the rough and tumble, games of cops and robbers where I was always the bad guy, cuffed to the fence. Tied to a tree, that sort of thing.’
‘You weren’t a very good bad guy then?’
‘No,’ I reflect, a smile peeking through. ‘Somehow, I always seemed to get caught.’
