Need (25 page)

Stephan lifted my head so he could look into my eyes. “There is nothing wrong with you needing me.”

He caressed my jaw and lips with his thumb. Slowly that warm feeling I felt so often when he was near began to spread through my body, and the skin under his thumb tingled. There was no movement besides the slow and steady rhythm of his hand and our breathing. Time seemed to stop altogether.

My gaze dropped to his lips. He hadn’t kissed me since this morning. Cal’s being here had disrupted our routine, and I’d missed his welcome-home kiss.

He tightened his arms around me, and he slid the hand that had been on my face behind my neck, angling it up. My lips parted as his mouth made contact with mine. The kiss was slow, and he took his time as his tongue probed and explored. Heat from his body seeped into mine where we were connected, and his hand gripped the back of my head, pulling at my hair, bringing back the memory of my head in his lap.

He pulled away, breathing hard. His eyes had a warm glow to them as a smile spread across his face. I smiled back, even though my own breath wasn’t close to being back to normal yet.

“Are you ready for our shower?” he asked. His voice was abnormally low and husky.

“Yes,” I whispered.

He cupped my face and placed a kiss on my forehead before releasing me. “Go get your things and meet me in my room.” 

I stood, and turned toward my room. As I did so, I felt his hand swat my butt. It wasn’t hard—more of a tap than anything—but it got my attention. I paused, stiff and waiting.

“Hurry.”

I wasn’t sure what had just happened, but I did as he said, and ran to my room.

Brianna

Sun streamed through my window, waking me up. I stretched in my bed, enjoying the feel of my muscles pulling. It was Saturday morning. I was going to get to spend the whole day with Stephan, and I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.

    It had been four nights now since we’d started showering together. He’d been very patient with me. That first night, and even the second after such an emotional day, he’d pampered me with kisses and his gentle touch.

Last night had been different. As the water streamed around us, he’d backed me up against the tile wall and kissed me like he had only a few times before. I could still feel the pressure of his lips against my mouth, his body pressing hard against me. He’d then placed my hand on him, and told me to stroke him.

I’d been unsure, but he’d wrapped his hand around mine for a while and showed me how he wanted to be touched. After a few seconds, I got into a rhythm, and he let go, allowing me to move on my own accord. His eyes closed and his head fell to my shoulder as I continued to stroke him. The grip of his hands on my hips felt good, solid. He was there, and everything was okay.

He kissed my neck and whispered to me how good it felt for him. I was happy I could please him like this, and I was okay. After touching him for the last three days, it didn’t scare me as it had before. He was still him. Even if he was hard and aroused, it was still Stephan in my hand.

It hadn’t taken that long for his breathing to become erratic and staggered. I’d paused for the briefest second, but he pulled me closer and in a slightly hoarse voice told me not to stop. Then he pulled back, making me look at him. 

“I’m going to come. Look at me. Only me,” he panted, taking my face firmly in his hands. His face tightened and then released as I felt warmth squirt out onto my hip.

After that, there was more kissing and touching. I could tell I’d made him happy, and I was proud of myself. He’d washed us up and put me to bed before going back to his own bedroom.

As I lay there basking in the morning sun, I felt my nerves returning, but there was a slightly different edge to them now. Sex was coming. I knew that. With every day, it got closer. Now that I’d seen how happy I could make him—how much pleasure I was capable of giving him—I wanted it. But wanting it and being ready for it were two different things. I was still scared—terrified, really—of sex.

Sure, he could touch me, but I still tensed up when his fingers got too close. It was frustrating, but I couldn’t help my reactions. I’d had things put inside me, things I’d had no control over, by more men than most women had sexual contact with in their entire lives, over the ten months I spent with Ian. In that time, not one of those men had talked to me or taken even a shred of the care and patience Stephan did with me.

Thinking about all my shortcomings wiped the smile from my face. I wanted to be with Stephan, to give him everything. I just didn’t know if I could. He seemed to be content to go at the pace I set, for now, but would that always be the case? What if I wasn’t able to have sex with him? What if I tensed up and panicked? What if I froze?

I felt the moisture fill my eyes, and spill over onto my cheeks. No. I wouldn’t think like that. A month ago, just the thought of any man, including Stephan, touching me in a sexual way had me trembling in fear, shutting down, and retreating inside myself. Now Stephan could touch me anywhere on my body and I was fine. I enjoyed it.

The next obstacle would be penetration, and I wasn’t exactly looking forward to that. Most of the men I’d been with took me hard and fast, and many times, it had been painful. Nothing like the anal sex had been, but it still hurt. I was hoping it wouldn’t be like that with Stephan. Nothing else he’d done had been like my other experiences. I was hoping the same would be true when he finally took me.

Movement pulled me from my thoughts, and I smiled as I saw Stephan leaning against the wall looking at me. “Hi.”

“Good morning,” he smiled, walking toward me. He was dressed in his workout clothes, so I knew we’d be going up to his gym. “How did you sleep?” he asked, brushing hair away from my face.

“Good,” I said. I took a chance. “How did you sleep?”

He smiled, and I knew that once again I’d made a good choice. “I slept very well,” he said before leaning down and kissing me. The kiss was soft, chaste, and completely innocent. There was none of the heat behind it that he’d shown last night, and I didn’t see any evidence of his arousal behind his shorts. “Get dressed,” he whispered against my mouth. “We’re going to work out before we start our day.”

Ten minutes later, we were upstairs in his gym. We stood side by side as we stretched, and I noticed he would glance over at me sometimes with a look I didn’t quite understand. He almost looked like he was in pain, but that didn’t make sense to me since we were only stretching our muscles. To my knowledge, he’d not done anything to overexert himself yesterday. I wanted to ask him if he was okay, but I didn’t know if I should, so I kept quiet. Soon we were finished, and he told me to start on the bike.

Although I was now able to walk on the treadmill without falling, Stephan rarely allowed me on it unless he was standing there beside me. He’d even given Brad instructions that I was not to be on it unsupervised. It still felt strange to be looked after like I was. 

My mom had been too sick that last year to look after me. The hospice nurses had shown concern, but my mom wasn’t their only patient. They couldn’t be there every waking minute. One of them had talked to Mom about sending me to live with John or even putting me in foster care when she started getting sick, but Mom had said no. I’d had to do things not many fifteen-year-olds would do for their mothers, especially toward the end. I’d do it again in a heartbeat, though. My mom was everything to me for most of my life. She deserved everything I could give her and more.

Gentle hands brushed tears from my cheeks, and I opened my eyes to find Stephan staring down at me. “What were you thinking about?” he asked.

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. “My mom.”

He pulled me against his chest, hugging me. “Tell me.” He petted my hair, comforting me. 

“I was just remembering when she was sick, and how I used to take care of her. One of the nurses tried to get mom to send me to live with . . . my dad . . . or a foster family. They didn’t think I should be taking care of my mom like that, but Mom refused. She said that I needed to be with her. She was right.” The tears started again, and he held me tighter. “I miss her so much.”

“I know. And it’s okay to miss her.” He paused, and I could feel his breath in my hair as his lips brushed along the top of my head. “I miss my mom, too,” he whispered.

He’d never mentioned his mom before, other than telling me his parents had died when he was fourteen. I was suddenly curious. She had to have been an amazing woman to have raised a wonderful man like Stephan. “Will you . . . tell me about her?”

A long silence filled the room. I didn’t think he was going to answer me, but then he said, “She was one of a kind.”

Stephan

My parents weren’t something I talked about often. Thinking about them brought up feelings so full of anger, sadness, and frustration. Brianna wasn’t asking about their deaths. She was asking about their lives. Something I hadn’t concentrated on in a while.

Brianna glanced up at me with tear-filled eyes, and I knew I wanted to tell her more. She, maybe more than anyone else, could understand. 

“She was a lady. Beautiful, elegant, but you didn’t ever want to get on her bad side,” I chuckled. “My backside became well acquainted with the palm of her hand on more than one occasion.” That made me think of a question I’d been meaning to ask her. “Did your parents ever spank you?”

Her nose scrunched up as she thought. “Only once . . . I think.” When she didn’t continue, I prompted her. “I was young. Four? Five? I don’t remember. But my babysitter had a daughter around my age, maybe a little older. A friend of hers had shown her how to make herself throw up, and so she showed me. Mom caught me the next day trying it in our bathroom. She was so mad. I couldn’t sit down for a while after that.” She smiled.

“What about the babysitter?”

“Mom called her and told her. I never went back there, though.”

“I think your mom made a good decision with that one. That was very dangerous.”

“I know.”

After her sharing, I thought back to one of the times my mother had disciplined me. “The worst I can remember was when I stole a bracelet from our gardener. He’d taken it off while he was working around the pool. I knew it was his, but it was shining in the sunlight and I thought it was pretty, so I took it. Dad was out of town, but that didn’t matter. Once my mother figured out I’d been the one to take it, she not only made me give it back and apologize, she also gave me a spanking I have yet to forget. My bottom was still sore when Dad came home the next day.”

“How old were you?”

“Seven, I think. And the worst part was that everyone knew. For weeks after it happened, the housekeeper, the gardener . . . they all smirked whenever they saw me. It was humiliating. I never stole anything again.”

Brianna smiled, and I hugged her to me. It felt good to talk to her about this. “She sounds like a good mom.”

“She was.” As much as I wanted to continue to hold her like this, I knew we needed to finish with our workouts. I helped her from the bike, and guided us both over to the weights.

Working out with her was a sweet torture. Her body had filled out since she’d come to live with me, and with the workouts, her muscles were tight and toned in all the right places. It was an exercise in control to be with her like this and keep my hands to myself. Instinct had me wanting to press her to the floor and ravish her. And although she would probably have welcomed my kisses—my touch—my body was aching for more each and every day. The closer we came, the more my body wanted it.

Last night had been amazing. Her touch did things to me that no other woman’s ever had.

Before I’d entered the lifestyle, I’d tended to go for older women. It was the experience factor, more than anything else, and they were open to experimenting more than girls my age. My first kinky experience had been at seventeen with a woman twice my age. She’d let me spank her and tie her up. I’d loved it, and so had she. Back then, I’d had little understanding of what my enjoyment in that type of sexual play meant.

Things with Brianna were different. I wanted to share all those kinky sex things I loved, but I also wanted her to allow me to love her and take care of her the way she deserved. Feeling her hand around me, rubbing and squeezing my erection in her hand, brought me pleasure beyond the sexual release.

I realized the other night that Brianna was like a virgin in many ways. Yes, she’d had sex many times over, but the natural exploration and comfort level that usually occurred with sexual experience wasn’t there. She’d been used and abused. She’d been a thing, a body, and nothing more. I was opening up a completely new world for her, and so far, even though she was still fearful, she was also enjoying it.

My biggest hurdle was penetration. She was now comfortable with me touching her body. But every time my fingers neared her entrance, she tensed to the point where I knew if I pushed things, it would be emotionally—and possibly physically—painful for her. I didn’t want it to be painful in any way, physical or emotional.