Ryan

 

 

 

I suck and lick the champagne off her nipples, relishing the sweet moans that escape soulfully from her quivering lips. She's been back in my arms for a little less than a day, and I have barely left her side since our eyes first reconnected on that hill in Los Angeles.

It was supposed to be the last time I saw her, a goodbye glance and a way for me to convince myself that she's nothing special. The unfortunate thing was, it turned out exactly the opposite.

I should have known. It didn’t work a year ago, and it didn’t work today. She's mine now, and she has no idea what that means.

As my tongue trails along her champagne-soaked skin, I forget everything that's outside that door. Nothing matters but spending time with her. I've fucked her, played with her, touched her in every place imaginable, and yet I feel far from satisfied. I'm as hungry as I was before I got on that plane to California.

"I don't know if I can do it again," she breathes when I unfasten her ankles. "I'm sore."

My only response is a passionate kiss. She moans when my lips press roughly against hers, and I let my imagination debate whether it’s a moan of protest or lust.

I untie her wrists from the cross, leaving the cuffs strapped around her arms, and take a hold of her leash.

"On your knees, doll."

She casts me a quick, insecure look but obediently lowers herself to the floor.

Is she afraid of me?

She should be.

I lead her over to the bed, walking backwards so I can enjoy the view of her crawling, completely naked and exposed. She hollows her bruised back as she inches along, even though it has to be painful, to please me.

"Good girl," I praise, and even though she keeps her face lowered, I can tell by the way her ears shift that she's smiling.

I walk until the edge of the bed hits the back of my legs, and I instinctively bend my knees to sit.

"Come here," I tell her, patting my thigh. "Sit up here on my lap."

She tilts her head back, her gaze seeking mine for reassurance. Laura doesn't move, though, until I give her another nudge by yanking at the leash. I'm beginning to think she enjoys it a little too much. Her reluctance doesn't feel natural.

She climbs up and onto my lap, her long legs shaking as she straddles me. I let go of the leash and place my hands on her ass, scooting her closer to my crotch and pushing her bare entrance up tight against the hardness caged in my pants. The smile she casts suggests she's very happy to see me this excited, even after all we've done already.

"See, this is what you do to me, doll," I tell her in a gravelly voice filled with arousal. "You leave me hard at all times, always wanting more."

She blushes, and when she tries to avert her eyes, I stop her by placing my index finger under her chin.

"Don't be shy. Just make sure you take care of it, just like I take care of my little doll."

"Yes, master," she whispers. She nibbles at her lower lip, still struggling to maintain eye contact with me. "But I'm sore. I think I need a break."

"You're getting one right now," I assure her. "That's why my cock is not buried deep inside of you, where it belongs. I'm letting you rest on my lap."

She nods. I don't stop her when she lowers her eyes again, absentmindedly stroking my chest with both of her hands. She traces the lines of the muscles I've spent so much time and effort building and maintaining. My addictive nature isn’t limited to women; it consumes every aspect of my life. When I cut out one very consuming part of my life – sex – it leaves me with plenty of time to indulge in developing a body like this. I weight lift like I fuck – relentlessly and with drive.

"I... took a really long break after we were together last time," my doll whispers in a voice so low that it's barely audible. She raises her gaze back to mine, making sure that I'm listening to her. "I didn't play with anyone since you."

I smile at her and feel a strange sensation in my chest. I don't know if what she says is true, but if it is, I can't deny it fills me with relief.

"So, no boyfriend, huh?" I ask her. "What a waste."

She clears her throat, visibly uncomfortable.

"Well, there was someone, a boyfriend," she admits. "But we never..."

A sharp sting pierces my heart.

"Why are you telling me this? You don't have to, you know that, right?"

She shakes her head.

"No, sure, I know that," she says. "But I wanted to tell you."

"It doesn't matter," I say. "If you want to tell me something, tell me what else you've been up to. Tell me something other than about having a boyfriend who you claim you didn't fuck-"

"I didn't!" she insists, widening her eyes in a mix of panic and frustration. "You have to believe me! I couldn't! I didn't want to, so I-"

"It's fine," I interrupt again, pinching the soft cheeks of her ass. She jerks up at the burst of pain, but it stops her rambling right away.

"Tell me what else you did? I couldn't find out anything about holding a job or attending college."

She furrows her eyebrows in shock. "Did you stalk me?"

I let out a mischievous chuckle. "Doll, how do you think I found you? Of course, I stalked you. I had to find you, and I have my ways."

The frown stays on her face for a few more seconds before she decides to let it go, searching fruitlessly for an answer to my question.

"I paid off my debt," she says. "All of it. It was quite a lot."

I remember her telling me about her mother and how she quit college to be with her, to care for her, just to see her wither away and die. She's as motherless as I am, but her loss somehow seems more profound, even to me. I lost my mother long before I even had a chance to remember her. I was way too young when she passed, and I never knew a life with her in it. Laura knows such a life, what it was like to have a mother, but she's been robbed of it.

She told me that she's okay, but I know she isn't. No one is such a short time after losing one's mother so tragically. No one. Not even my doll, the little warrior.

"What about college?" I ask her. "Did you go back to California to give school another chance?"

She sighs. "Maybe. I don't know. I didn't do it, though. To be honest, I didn't really do anything."

A pause fills the air between us with tense silence. I don't know what to tell her, and I don't know if there's anything else she wants to tell me. Was she about to make a drastic change in her life, but my appearance kept her from doing it?

"I'm sorry," she whispers eventually, surprising me.

"You're sorry? For what?"

She shrugs.

"I feel like I've let you down," she says. "Like... I should have done something meaningful with your money."

"It's your money," I insist. "And doll, you don't have to worry about letting me down. You didn't. I don't think you ever could."

The smile that appears on her face carries with it a shade of sadness. "Thank you, master."

The idea of her letting me down seems so absurd that I can't even grasp it. It's beyond my comprehension.

Me, on the other hand? I may very well be the one letting her down.

Big time.