I took care of him. Then he took care of me. After taking Maggie outside for a break, he had me sit at the small table in the cabin while he fed me a muffin and he ate the other. Then in the small kitchenette, he cooked us a large cheese and vegetable omelet from the items he brought along in a cooler. He placed it on one plate and used one fork. One bite for me, one bite for him, alternating feeding us both until the plate was clean.
Once finished, he wiped my mouth gently with a napkin. I didn’t have to lift a finger. Before I could push away from the table, he rose and came around, massaging my shoulders, my neck, my arms since they were a little sore from holding them pinned behind me.
He did this all while murmuring compliments in my ears. He called me lovely, beautiful, gorgeous, and more. Descriptions I’ve never been called before. I don’t know if any of them are true, but as long as Nick believes those things, that’s all that matters.
At first, I figured this was my reward. My recompense for accepting my punishment.
But it wasn’t.
I found out later that this is just Nick being Nick. Open. Kind. Caring. No sign of anything dark or haunting. He seems to appreciate me and my willingness to play with him.
Afterward, he took my hand gently and led me to the bed, me on my side and him curling himself around me. As we laid quietly, I listened to his steady breathing until I fell asleep.
Hot lightening shoots down my belly and lands in the apex of my thighs. Another pull at my nipple brings me to consciousness and I blink up at the ceiling until I realize where I am. In the cabin. With Nick.
A relieved sigh escapes me.
I thought maybe this all had been a dream. But it isn’t. He has one of my nipples sucked deep into his mouth and his eyes are on mine. He smiles around my nipple and then sinks his teeth into the soft flesh.
My back arches off the bed and, instinctively, my hands reach for him. Then I remember again that this is Nick and stop myself from touching him without permission. My fingers curl into my palms.
“This is your reward, Grace. You may touch me if you’d like.”
Oh, yes, I want to touch him.
Sweeping my fingers through his dark hair, I push him back to my nipple. He chuckles against my skin and I can’t help but smile.
When his lips snag my nipple again, he sucks it hard before scraping his teeth over the beaded tip.
He rolls the other one between his thumb and forefinger before pulling it away from my body. When my skin won’t stretch anymore, he pinches harder.
“I should’ve brought some clamps,” he murmurs against the outer curve of my breast.
Yes, he should’ve.
“Next time,” he says and I still.
Next time.
Will he make me wait a whole year for a next time?
Suddenly a million questions fill my head, but I sweep them away. Now is not the time.
No. Now is for my reward. Plenty of time later for other things.
He nibbles a path from one breast to the other until he clamps his lips tightly around my nipple and flicks the tip with his tongue.
“Nick...” I groan.
“Are you enjoying your reward?”
Oh, hell yes, I want to scream. But I don’t. I murmur, “Oh yes,” instead.
My neck bows as I tilt my head back and suddenly he’s there, nipping along my throat, tickling the hollow with his tongue. When he sinks his teeth in a little harder at the junction of where my neck meets my shoulder, I gasp.
“No?” he asks.
“Yes,” I encourage.
Again, he chuckles softly, deeply, and suddenly I’m covered in goosebumps. His voice alone can make me wet and wanting.
The evidence is making my inner thighs slick. I throb for him. Actually throb. That has never happened to me before. To need someone so much that my body cries out for him.
But there’s no doubt I want him, need him. All of him.
He works his way down my chest, biting the upper curve of my breast, nipping the tip of my nipple, softly kissing the skin of my belly. He doesn’t stop until he reaches the top of my mound. His hot breath beats against my flesh and my pussy clenches. He’s not touching me anywhere, but can make me react with just a breath.
Simply a breath.
“Open yourself to me, Grace. I want to see all of you.”
I slide my hand down my belly and separate myself.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs. “Once again you’re ready for me. But that’s not your reward…” His voice drifts off as he strokes along my center with his tongue, the tip of it finds the tip of me, teasing my clit, making my hips dance off the bed.
“That’s it, Grace. You taste so good. I can’t get enough of you.”
He’s quiet, but I’m not, while he works me into a frenzy and takes me to the edge several times but won’t let me fall. Instead, he pulls away to nip my inner thighs or blow gently on my sensitive clit. Though, even that almost makes me come.
I find the more I whimper, mew, or cry out his name, the harder he sucks, licks, flicks, so it becomes a new game. One where I’ll clearly be the winner.
I mindlessly chant his name, begging him to let me come. This is supposed to be my reward; I shouldn’t have to beg. At first, I don’t think he’s trying to be controlling, but only trying to extend my pleasure. In one way, I appreciate it, in another I want to curse him.
Until there comes a point where I can’t take anymore; the tension in my body needs to be released. I’m tempted to shove his face closer and grind against him.
But I don’t.
I wait.
I trust him to know what he’s doing... Which, I realize, is learning my body, my reactions, what I like, what I love, what creates a slow build, what takes me there quickly.
I have a feeling he’ll use this to his advantage later. While the thought is electrifying to have someone end up knowing your body better than yourself, it’s also intimidating.
It hits me that it’s another form of control. He’ll be able to play me like a fiddle. I’ll be putty in his hands. And every other cliché that bounces around my addled brain.
“Tell me what you need, Grace,” he says against my swollen folds.
“I need to come,” I almost snap at him because I’m at the point of breaking but also teeter at the point of frustration.
I’m ready.
So when he chuckles against my clit and slides two long fingers inside me, curling them to stroke that secret spot of mine, my hands slam down on the mattress, grip the sheets, and I wail as my body bows and then ripples around him, throbbing against his mouth.
He’s saying something. I don’t know what. My head’s foggy, my gaze unfocused from the most intense orgasm I’ve had in a long time.
I hear his words but can’t make out what they are. With a last gentle kiss to my clit, which still makes me jerk against him, he slides up my body, careful to keep his weight off me.
When he’s face to face, he takes my mouth like he owns it, because he does. My body still shakes, my pussy quivers, my fingers curl around his biceps while my nails dig into his flesh to take purchase as he tips my head back from the force of his mouth against mine.
And, holy shit, it’s fucking glorious.
The best damn kiss I ever had.
He whispers to me how good I taste. I agree, because I discovered my own essence during his kiss.
Even though he’s hard again, he slips to my side, lays a heavy arm over my waist and plants a hand on my hip before tugging me tight against him.
“How old is Maggie?”
It’s the last question I expect him to ask. But besides his erection, the rest of his body is relaxed against me, so maybe he wants to learn more about me. Or my dog, anyway. Of course. She always draws the attention.
“Eight.”
His hand sweeps the hair away from my face and, with his fingertip, he draws a line from the top of my forehead down to my chin by the way of my nose.
“That’s old for a dog that size?”
I shift one of my shoulders. “More like middle-aged.”
“She looks good for her age, then. She’s well-behaved. I like that.”
He would.
Since we are speaking freely, I would love to know more about him. Especially what I’ve always been dying to know. But once again, I wait.
“My father trained K9s in the military. He taught her a lot of commands, both verbal and hand signals, but I don’t put her through her paces. She’s just my companion.”
“You live here alone.”
Not a question. He knows. He’s just affirming a fact that doesn’t need stated, because I’m well aware that I live here alone. It was one of the reasons I was so desperate to catch his attention. So I don’t respond.
“What happened to your father? Did he pass?”
“Yes, the year before you started coming up. I’m an only child, so this all got handed down to me.”
“How do you keep up with this place? There has to be at least a dozen cabins.”
“I’m used to it. I hire local help when I need it.” And can afford it, I add silently.
I shiver. I think about the fireplace and how nice it would be to start a fire just to get the chill out of the air. Unfortunately, I don’t have any firewood stacked near the cabins yet.
“Cold?”
“A little.”
He leans away from me enough to grab a blanket that’s folded neatly on the bottom shelf of the nightstand. He pulls it over us both.
“Better?”
“Yes.”
“You can wrap your arms around me, Grace. I bite, but only during sex.” His eyes twinkle as he tells me this.
I have to say I enjoyed his nips and nibbles as well as the couple times he sank his teeth into me a bit harder.
One more thing I have never done before.
He studies my face when he asks, “Did you like it?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Good.” A slight smile curves the corners of his lips and I can’t help but brush the tips of my fingers over them. He opens his mouth and snags one between his teeth playfully, then lets it go.
I continue my exploration of his face, follow the strong line of his jaw up and around all the way to his brows. His eyes follow mine.
His voice sounds husky when he says, “Tell me how long it’s been.”
I stop my exploration and drop my hand. “I told you, too long.”
“Be more specific.”
“Months.”
“How many?”
Why does he insist on knowing this information? I’m not comfortable telling him about my sex life. Or more like the lack of one.
“Nick…”
“I asked you a question, I expect an answer,” he insists.
“Does that work both ways?” Because if so, I have a lot of answers I’d like to hear from him.
He shifts a little under the blanket, drawing a leg over mine. Now with his arm and his leg crossing my body, I’m pinned to the bed. Another type of restraint without using actual ropes or cuffs.
Interesting.
“I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll only ask you a question I’m willing to answer myself. Deal?”
“Deal,” I say.
But wait.
I frown, regretting my quick decision. Does that mean only he can ask the questions? If so, then I may never find out what I want to know.