The_Submissive - Tara Sue Me (16 page)

I lifted my hips and lowered myself onto him. He skipped a note or two—even I could tell.

“Keep going,” I whispered, lifting up and pushing
myself back down on him. He kept playing.

I held my hips still, leaned down and nibbled his ear. “I love the way you feel inside me.” He missed more notes. “During the week, I fantasize about your cock—how it tastes.” I squeezed my inner muscles. “How it feels.” His arms shook. “I count the hours until I see you.” I rode him slowly. “Until I can be with you like this.” His hands fell from the keyboard to grip my ass, trying to push me harder, but I held still. “Keep playing.”

The song got faster, more intense, and I worked myself up and down while he played.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” I said. “Only you. Only you can do this to me.”

His playing was chaotic now; it didn’t even sound like a song at all, just disjointed notes. Sweat formed on his body and I knew he was fighting. Fighting to retain the control he valued so much. Fighting to keep the music going.

Fighting and losing.

The music stopped and with one swift move, he grabbed my waist and thrust up into me with all he had.

“You think it’s different for me?” he ground out in a husky voice. He hooked his arms around my shoulders, forcing himself deeper. “What makes you think it’s different for me?”

We moved faster, each trying to hold out for the
other, as if climaxing first would be giving in. I bit my lip in concentration, willing him to let go first. He dropped a hand between us and rubbed circles around my clit.

Damn it.

I grabbed handfuls of his hair and pulled. He moaned against my shoulder and rubbed harder.

Finally, it became too much. He was the master, after all. He could do what he wanted with my body. I had no weapons to use against him. I gave up and allowed my climax to overwhelm me. He followed seconds later.

As our hearts and breathing slowed, I felt him putting the wall back up. Brick by brick. Closing himself off. Becoming distant once more.

“Breakfast at eight in the dining room, Abigail.” He lifted me from his lap and placed me on the floor. The control was back.

“French toast?” I asked, slipping my gown on, wanting to see if any of the Nathaniel I’d just glimpsed remained.

“Whatever you prefer.”

No, he was gone.

CHAPTER
NINETEEN

It took longer than usual to make breakfast the next morning. I prolonged each step, dreading what I would find waiting for me in the dining room. How far removed would Nathaniel be this morning from the fevered lover of the night before?

I set a plate for myself on the counter after I made Nathaniel’s plate. I wasn’t sure where I’d be eating this morning. I wasn’t sure where I wanted to eat. No. That wasn’t true. I knew where I wanted to eat—at the kitchen table with Nathaniel.

What was it Elaina told me at lunch right before the accident?
You have to handle Nathaniel carefully.

I could be careful. I would handle him with kid gloves, draw him out so slowly he wouldn’t know what hit him. Handle him carefully, indeed.

And bring the wall down, brick by brick.

I placed the French toast in front of him. Was it my imagination, or did the corner of his lip lift ever so slightly?

Do you think it’s any different for me? What makes you think it’s any different for me?

He might as well have said it out loud again. The words rang through my head and I knew it didn’t matter he was eating in the dining room. I’d made a small crack in his exterior last night. I just needed time to make it bigger.

“Make a plate and join me,” he said, picking up his fork and spearing a piece of toast.

I joined him minutes later.

“Last night doesn’t change anything,” he said as I sat down. “I am your dom and you are my sub.”

Keep telling yourself that, Nathaniel. Maybe you’ll convince yourself eventually. Last night changed everything.

“I do care for you,” he continued. “It is not unheard of. It’s to be expected, actually.”

I started eating.

“But sex is not the same thing as love.” He put a banana slice in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “Although I suppose many people confuse the two.”

He didn’t look at me while he ate, almost as if he felt it easier to speak that way. I felt certain I’d seen glimpses of his true feelings the night before. But his actions at the table made it seem as if he was preparing for a mighty big battle. I wondered if it was with himself or me. Himself, I decided. Definitely his own self.

I hear you, Elaina. I hear you loud and clear.

After breakfast, he instructed me to wait in his room.

The curtains were mostly closed, letting in just a small amount of light. I glanced around—there were no pillows on the bed. No ties. No whipping bench. Just the bed.

Then I saw the pillow on the floor, which could only mean one thing, and I dropped to my knees, fully clothed.

Nathaniel walked in, still wearing the tan drawstring pants from last night.

“Very nice, Abigail,” he said, coming toward me. “It pleases me that you anticipate my needs.”

He took his pants off and I saw that he was only partly erect.

I leaned forward and took him in my mouth, putting my arms around his hips. His fingers dug into my hair.

I swirled my tongue around his cock, running it up and down his length as he moved slowly in and out of my mouth. He could pretend this was nothing but sex, but I knew better and I poured my heart out in the only way he’d allow. The only way I could.

I couldn’t tell him how I felt, but I could show him. Show him by being what he needed. Taking from him what I needed in return.

His breathing grew choppy and his thrusts harder. I relaxed my throat to take him all the way, to allow him the release he needed. The fingers in my hair pulled harder. I reached up to gently cup his sac. Stroked it.

I risked a peek at him and his face almost stopped me in my tracks. His teeth were clenched and his expression…his expression was a picture of pain. As if he were on the whipping bench.

In that second, I knew what he was doing. Trying to prove to himself that we were only about sex. And that made me angry, because last night had been beautiful. We could be beautiful. He just wouldn’t admit it. He could be my dom, I could be his sub, and it could be beautiful.

He twitched inside me and I knew he was close. I sucked him harder and when he came in my mouth, I swallowed frantically.

I felt him relax and the hands on my head loosened. He must have felt better about himself, because he looked more peaceful when he lowered a hand to help me up.

His nimble fingers made quick work of my shirt and pants. Honestly, I’m not even sure why I bothered getting dressed, it was a complete waste of time. The clothes never stayed on.

My eyes traveled to the bed and I saw a tube of lubricant off to the side—I’d missed seeing it before. My body tensed.

“Look at me, Abigail,” Nathaniel took both my hands. “I want you to answer my questions,” he said, drawing me to the bed. “Where are we?”

“Your room.” I climbed onto the bed and scooted to the middle, focusing my attention on him.

He crawled to me, still looking in my eyes. “Where in my room?”

“Your bed.”

He ran a hand up and down my side. “What happens in my bed?”

My stomach grew all tingly. “Pleasure.”

“Yes,” he said, bending down to kiss my throat, lowering me to the bed.

I closed my eyes as the sensations rippled through me. His lips, his tongue, his teeth. He nibbled, licked, and sucked.

“Just feel, Abigail,” he whispered. His hands dipped and brushed through my curls, stroked lower still to where I ached for him. But instead of moving on top of me, he moved again. His mouth nibbled the slope of my stomach, his tongue dipped into my bellybutton.

His finger entered me slowly, swirling around my entrance, dancing in and out. I rocked my hips.

“Yes,” he soothed. “Just feel.”

He moved between my thighs, bent my knees, and pushed them apart. I lifted my hips, begging for friction.

“Wait,” he said against my wetness and the vibration of his voice felt so good, I moaned. “Wait.”

His tongue replaced his fingers, right where I needed him. Then, in one swift move, he hitched my legs over his shoulders and his tongue slipped in and out of me. Slowly. Too slowly. I pushed against him,
needing him, wanting more. One of his fingers drew lazy circles around my clit.

I was so close. I teetered on the edge.

His hands left and some part of me knew what he was doing, but the bigger part of me didn’t care because his tongue had replaced his finger, going around and around, but never giving me exactly what I needed.

Slick fingers came back, circling my lower opening, matching the rhythm his tongue continued. He pushed a fingertip inside at the same time he licked my clit.

I gasped.

“Pleasure, Abigail,” he said, slowly moving his fingertip in and out, while his voice did that wondrous vibration thing. “Just pleasure.”

His finger slowly went deeper and deeper while he continued licking and nibbling at my growing ache. He slipped his tongue inside me, in and out, in and out. His finger moved slower.

My body once more teetered on the edge and, damn it, I never expected what he was doing to feel good, but it did. So much better than the plug. So much better than I thought possible.

“Relax,” he whispered, but it must have been in jest, because I couldn’t have been more relaxed. He added a second finger and I felt a stretching pain, but his tongue was back. Swirling. Licking. Teasing me. Keeping me from my release. And his fingers moved in and out.

He moved his mouth so that his tongue was thrusting in and out while his teeth grazed my clit. And his fingers kept up their rhythm.

I lifted my hips to get some of him, any of him, further inside.

“That’s it, Abigail,” he said. “Let it go. Let me make it good.”

I believed him. He could make it good. He would make it good. I had no more doubts.

His teeth grazed across my clit roughly, right as his fingers thrust deeply inside.

My climax washed over me, throwing me off the edge completely.

When I came back to my senses, Nathaniel was looking down at me, a touch of smugness on his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Mmmmm,” I mumbled.

He lay down beside me and took me in his arms. “Can I take that as a yes?”

I nodded and pushed my head into his chest. And there, for just a second, I had him back.

CHAPTER
TWENTY