I try to focus on the object and realize it’s a small vibrator. “Spread your legs a little more,” he commands. When I do, I feel him slowly slide the vibrator into me, flipping the tiny switch. It buzzes and vibrates deep inside my pelvis.
“Turn around.”
Once I’m facing him, he takes the sunglasses off the top of his head and places them on the table, then slowly takes off his faded leather jacket. My vintage leather fetish sparks up and the urge to feel and smell the leather rises.
“Do you want to know what I want?” he asks.
“Yes,” I answer, trying to ignore the vibrator, how wet it’s making me, and how my muscles are clenching involuntarily around it.
“I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay here, in my house, and be my sub. I want to come home to you waiting for me, dressed in lingerie or whatever other outfit I left for you. I want to tie you up and fuck your brains out all night and hear you whimper my name.”
He pulls his shirt over his head and starts to unbuckle his belt, then continues. “I want you to fall asleep naked in my arms so I can take you whenever I want to.” He pushes his jeans and boxers down, kicks his boots off, and steps out of his pants. “And I’d like to wake up with your lips around my cock.”
Please tell me you love me. Give me something to show me it’s not a game.
He reaches between my legs and gives the vibrator a push. “You better not come unless I tell you to.” Kissing my lips softly, he pushes down on my shoulders. “Get on your knees and don’t let that fall out.”
I kneel awkwardly, trying not to fall on my ass while clenching the vibrator in my core. He leans back against the edge of the table in front of me. “I want you to suck my cock before I tell you what else I want.”
I muster up a little courage. “Can I ask for something?”
He tilts his head to the side and stares down at me. “That depends on what it is.”
I lick my lips, knowing it drives him crazy. “Will you wear your leather jacket while I blow you?”
His brow furrows, and a crooked, sexy grin crosses his lips. “Um, can I ask why?”
“I have a thing for soft vintage leather … the smell and how soft it feels …” I let my voice fade off.
He slowly pulls the jacket on, and he looks sexy as hell wearing it with no shirt on, his long hair cascading down the front. My pussy clenches around the vibrator.
“Happy now?” he asks.
“Yes. Maybe later you can untie me and let me touch it.”
“Maybe, depending on how good you are. Who knew you had your own little fetish?”
I lick the head of his cock and swirl my tongue around him, slowly sliding my mouth down his hot shaft, gazing up at him. I love watching his breathing change and seeing his eyes get drowsy and lusty. He touches my face as I go down on him, and he watches me intently. He pulls his cock out of my mouth and slides his thumb into my mouth in its place.
“Come up here,” his voice is low and tinged with a hint of urgency. I carefully stand up, and he reaches behind me and unwinds the chain, letting it fall to the floor, and takes the vibrator out next, putting it back in his pocket. He holds my face in his hands and looks into my eyes for a few moments, staring straight into my soul.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, placing my hands on his chest.
He leans his forehead against mine and closes his eyes, inhaling me, and us, deep into his lungs before he answers.
“No one’s ever said they love me before.”
My heart clenches. My God, this man needs to be loved so badly, and I want to be the one to give it to him, but doing so will put my already broken heart in jeopardy of being further shattered. Am I strong enough to risk that? Could he ever love me back? And more importantly, can I let go of the past?
“Well …” I whisper, my heart pounding. “I guess I’m the first, and hopefully, the last.”
His hands go to my waist and grip me tighter, pulling me even closer against his body, as if he’s afraid I’m going to run. I place a soft kiss directly over his heart, and then tilt my head up to meet his dark eyes. “I love you,” I say, my voice small and shaky.
“You shouldn’t … I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then don’t.”
He shakes his head. “Easier said than done.”
“Hey,” I say softly “I believe in you, Vandal. Whatever happened in the past … that doesn’t have to make you who you are now. That’s not the man I know today. If you don’t like who you are, you can change the parts you don’t like … I’ll help you.”
“There’s so much you don’t know about me.” He pushes my hair away from my face, his eyes full of pain and regret.
I pull his head down to mine and kiss his lips. “I don’t want to know. I love who you are right now. I love the man you’ve been since you brought me here.” I slowly brainwash myself with my own delusions. I want it all to go away. I just want to be with him, now and forever. “You have to learn to let some walls down.”
He nods. “I’m so tired of holding the walls up, Tabi.”
Sliding my hands up his chest, I clasp them behind his neck. “We can do it together.”
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, and a lone tear slowly slides down his face, the sight of it stopping my heart.
In that moment, everything changes. There is a shift, deep and permanent, as if the hand of a monstrous clock just ticked to the next moment, and then stayed there. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
This isn’t just about me anymore.
Vandal
This fucking chick is killing me. Killing me.
She’s got my head so twisted up, I don’t know if I want to stand here and hug her or bend her over this table and slam her ass while she’s got that vibrator in her.
I’m falling in love with you.
Words I’ve never heard once in my thirty years on this fucking planet, and now I hear them from a girl whose life I wrecked and is destined to hate me. This twisted irony can only happen to me.
The evil little voices in me are telling me to hurt her now before she hurts me. Cut her down, rip her heart out. Bring another woman home. Get drunk off my ass. Get high as a kite. Stomp all ideas of love and happiness out of her fast and hard. Tell her the truth about the accident, and watch the love in her eyes wither away and die.
“Don’t shut me out,” she says in her sweet little voice, her hands tangled in my hair at the back of my neck. She looks so sexy in this dress, and when she crawled down the hall, I could have blown a nut just looking at her. My brain swirls with the endless possibilities of keeping her as my sub and having her love me.
Say it back.
It’s what she wants to hear. Of course even I know that I’m supposed to say it back to her. I know how much it’s hurting her right now that I didn’t. But once I say those words, there’s no coming back. I’ll always be the one who loved her and lied right to her face. Is that what love is? I honestly don’t know. I don’t believe that love is a magical word that takes away all pain, heals all wounds, conquers all, and makes wrongdoings forgivable. Maybe love actually makes things worse.
“I’m not shutting you out,” I say, regaining my composure. “I’m thinking.”
“About?” She peers up at me, a slight shake to her voice.
“I want you to stay with me. Indefinitely. We’ll figure out the details of the hows and wheres later.” I slide my finger down the front of the plunging neckline of her dress, between her breasts. “I need an answer from you. This isn’t a game for me, and I can see now I’ve been a little too easy on you. We need to clarify some parameters and expectations if you’re going to stay.” I stroke the swell of her breasts beneath the thin, tight dress while I wait for her to answer.
“Yes. I would like to stay.”
“Good. I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you everything you need and want. If you have bills, I’ll pay them. I want you here full-time; as in, I don’t want you to w
ork full-time outside the house for someone else. I want you to focus on your photography, and make that your career if that’s what you want. If you need some equipment, I’ll get it for you. If you need a studio, we’ll either find you one in town or we can have one built here or at my other house—we’ll decide that later.”
Her hand flutters to her mouth in surprise. “Oh my God, Vandal … you would let me do that? You would do all of that for me? Can you afford that?”
“Yes, but it’s in return for what you are giving me. Which is you. Twenty-four seven. Exclusively. I do not want you dating or having lunch with other men. I don’t share well, on any level. What’s mine is mine, and there is no gray area on that.” I hold her gaze, hoping she understands how serious I am. “And yes, I can afford it. Believe it or not, I’ve been very responsible with my money, thanks to Gram’s help. I get income from the tattoo shop and from the band in addition to my inheritance. Okay?”
“Of course … I don’t want anyone else, but why can’t we just be in a normal relationship then?”
“We’re not getting engaged, Tabitha. Don’t confuse this with some conventional relationship. This is an agreement. I want you; I even care about you. I like you a lot. Do not think you can throw emotions and words at me to break me down.” She already has broken me down, but I’m not ready to give in yet. I need more time. “We’ll agree on a sum of money that I will deposit into your bank account. I don’t want you to ever feel trapped here. You can leave whenever you want and you’ll have enough money to take care of yourself for a while. I don’t expect you to give up working and not have access to finances to take care of yourself. That’s not what I want.”
“Wait … you can’t pay me for being with you.”
“I can and I will. And don’t make it sound like prostitution. I’m not paying you to fuck me, Tabitha. It’s an equal arrangement. You’re giving me everything I need in the way that I need it, and I’m making sure you have everything you need.”
“Okay … I guess. I don’t want your money, though. That’s not exactly what I need …” Her voice trails off and I know exactly what she’s hinting at.
I slide my hand up to her throat and squeeze gently, because I love how it makes her eyes go so big. “I know you don’t want my money. I trust you.”
“I trust you too.”
“I travel sometimes … with the band that I play in. Sometimes I may bring you with me; other times I may leave you here. Regardless, I expect one hundred percent discretion and commitment from you about what I do with my business and personal life.”
“Of course. Are you like, super famous or something?”
I let out a little laugh and stroke her cheek. “Or something.”
She shifts on her feet. I’m sure the shoes are starting to hurt. “I don’t care about who you are, or any of that,” she replies.
“Ya know, I actually believe you when you say that.”
“Because it’s true. What band are you in? Maybe I have you on my playlist?”