22. Bridget
CHAPTER 22
Bridget
I’m closing my laptop when Ethan emerges from the bathroom. He’s fully dressed, his hair still damp from the shower, the ends curling around his ears, framing the handsome features of his face as he joins me, sitting on the edge of the bed as I set my laptop on the nightstand.
“I missed you,” he admits as he leans in for a quick kiss. “The restaurant was crazy today. I’m starting to miss the dinner rush. It’s constant and predictable, but lunch is utter chaos. Right when you think the rush is over, you get another wave of people. And whoever prepped this morning did a shit job. We had to eighty-six like half of the menu. Servers were pissed because customers were pissed. It was a total shit show.”
“Mmm, you smell like Italian food,” I moan into his skin because I didn’t follow half of what he said.
He pulls the front of his shirt to his nose and inhales. “Fuck, do I? I showered, but it’s hard to scrub off the smell of garlic.”
Hooking my leg over his thigh, I inch closer to him, pulling the shirt out of his pinched fingers and against me as our bodies crash together. His hand grabs my jaw as his lips move over mine. I’m not sure if it’s the all-clear I got from my doctor today, how fucking edible he smells right now, or the six tortuous weeks of emotional and sexual foreplay, but my libido is out of control, and I need this man more than I need air.
“Bridget, we can’t,” he says between kisses.
I rear back and look at him. He’s being sincere, a look of concern etching his features. The rejection stings, and I sit back.
“What? What is it?” he asks.
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“Bullshit.”
“Don’t you want to…” I trail off, unable to form the words at how his rejection hurts more than I expected.
I see the moment it clicks for him. “I want to fuck you so bad, but we can’t.”
“Why not?”
“It hasn’t been…” He starts to open his mouth in response but stops, seeming to do the calculations in his brain. “Has it been six weeks already?”
“It has,” I purr, the sound a velvety rumble in my throat.
“Hell fucking yeah, come here.” He grabs my thigh and pulls me onto his lap so I’m straddling him. The surprise on my face hits him as I see the concern in his eyes. “Fuck, did you think I was turning you down because you thought I didn’t want to be with you?”
“Maybe,” I say quietly.
“Hellcat, I’ll fuck the fire out of you, you just have to say the word. I got so used to stopping things during your recovery that I lost track of how long it’s been. The number of times I’ve had to shut this down only to take a cold shower is unbelievable.” He grabs me hard, one arm wrapping around my waist as his right hand clasps the back of my neck, pulling me against him in a feverish kiss.
Suddenly, he pulls back to stare at me, our heavy breaths creating a cacophonic rush in my ears as my wildly beating heart adds to the noise. “Wait, is it six weeks today? Exactly?”
“Does that matter right now?” I question, my hips still grinding against him, seeking friction against his thick length. He grabs my hips, and I look into his eyes and see the concern there.
“Truth or dare. Is this my last night here?”
I forgot I’d agreed to let him stay only until the six weeks was up. Suddenly, the thought of him leaving fills me with sadness. I’ve gotten used to him being here, gotten comfortable.
“Do you want it to be your last night?” I question hesitantly as my hands still their movements on his chest.
“Fuck no. But I know you need your space and you like being alone. I’ll respect that if it’s what you want.”
I take a deep breath and stare into his eyes, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I know I put up a front that I crave chaos, but being alone is peaceful to me. I don’t have to deal with people and their messy emotions. With my messy emotions. I’m okay with being on my own. I’ve never felt lonely while alone. Until I met you. Now my peace isn’t peaceful. It’s like I can’t relax until I’m near you and I don’t know how to feel about that.”
“I know how I feel about that. I feel fucking amazing when I’m with you. I grew up in chaos. Our house was never quiet. Not with that many kids. I loved it, but I never felt at peace. You bring me peace. You feel like home. I like what we’ve created here these past six weeks. I want to keep going.” The hand on the back of my neck tightens as he pulls me into him, our foreheads pressed together, our noses touching. “You keep trying to fight it. But I’ll scale every wall you put up if it means that I get to bring you peace. Let me do that for you, be that for you. Fuck, sweetheart, please. Non hai ancora capito quanto ci tengo a te .”
It’s the begging that undoes me. Or the Italian. Fuck, it’s hot when he casually slips that in. I have no idea what he said, but it feels like an important confession.
“Stay.” I barely get the word out before his lips are on mine, tugging and devouring. Our tongues dance to a rhythm I can feel deep in my soul, as if the music was written just for us.
He tears his lips from mine and reaches into the cup on the nightstand, fishing out an ice cube. “Lie back and take these off. I’ve been dying to devour this pretty cunt,” he commands as he puts the cube in his mouth. “I want you to drench my face and make this ice melt.”
Fuck, I love the mouth on this man. He teases me with the ice, moving it up and down my inner thigh, his hot breath melting my resolve as my thighs drop further open. Pulling the cube from his mouth, he trails it along the apex of my thighs, chasing each cold swipe with a hot lick as I squirm against his hold.
Each lick moves closer to my aching core, and the juxtaposition of hot and cold lights up my skin. His tongue laps at my pussy, hot and aching, before he trails the ice behind it. He continues stroking me with the warmth of his tongue until the ice melts, and I’m left panting, needing more to ease the ache in my core.
He rewards me by pushing a finger into my pussy, working it open by making slow circles around my inner walls.
“What do you want, sweetheart?”
“I want you to make me come,” I breathe out, barely able to focus as he slips a second finger inside, stroking them against my G-spot. His thumb starts rubbing small circles over my clit as his fingers continue teasing me.
“Try again. Tell me exactly what you want. Use your words.”
“I want you to be a good boy and lick my pussy until I squirt all over your face, screaming your name. And then I want you to lick me clean.”
“Fuck yes, my queen,” he growls, lowering his head between my legs and flattening his tongue, licking from my center all the way to my clit before removing his thumb and pulling my swollen bud into his mouth. The rapid flicks of his tongue make me feel like a storm cloud about to unleash a downpour during a summer thunderstorm.
His fingers continue stroking my inner walls, and I can feel my orgasm building quickly as he rests his free hand on my lower torso, holding me in place. The carnal need I have for this man is etched into my bones. I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want Ethan right now.
“Yes, I’m so close, please, faster, fuck.”
The trill of his tongue dances against my clit like the flutter of a hummingbird’s wings, its rapid movements vibrating against me until I feel the explosion deep in my core, and I fall over the edge into the strongest, messiest orgasm of my life.
“Fuck, Ethan, yes, fuck,” I cry out as my hands grip the sheets, desperate to hold on to this feeling like a musician savoring the final moments of a beautiful song.
I can feel his moans deep in my pussy as he continues licking and sucking, determined to get every drop he can as he extends my orgasm while his strong forearms hold me in place.
Suddenly, he flips me over, hips in the air, and yanks my thighs toward the edge of the bed. The sound of his hand hitting the flesh of my ass fills the room as he delivers several quick, hard strikes to each of my cheeks before his hand rubs gently, smoothing the sting. I squirm against him, the pain giving way to pleasure as I feel my arousal dripping down my thigh.
“You like that?” he asks.
I nod into the mattress and let out a small, muffled moan of agreement.
“I’ve wanted to light this ass up so many times over the past few weeks. Every time you said something negative about yourself, about us, my need to spank this ass grew.” He smacks my ass again, hard. My head tilts forward as I moan and bite the blanket. The pain is intense, but the pleasure after is worth it.
“If you want me to stop, say ‘red,’ understand?”
I nod against the bed.
“I need your verbal confirmation, Bridget,” he commands.
Tilting my head to the side, I’m overcome with desire. I want this man to punish me. I need it. “I understand,” I breathe out as I bury my head back into the mattress.
“You’re fucking beautiful, Bridget.” Smack. “Exactly like you are right now.” Smack. “It pains me that you don’t know how incredibly beautiful you are.” Smack. “This ass is fucking exquisite.” Smack. “Are you going to talk shit about how you look again?” Smack.
I can barely get the word out. “No.”
“That’s my good girl,” he praises as his hands palm both of my ass cheeks, rubbing and kneading them until his hands are replaced with his tongue licking streaks up each side of my ass.
“Oh shit, that’s… that’s so good,” I whine.
“Whose ass is this?” he demands, and when I don’t answer fast enough, his teeth sink into the flesh, nipping and sucking.
The sensation is too much as warmth builds in my core. “Fuck!”
He pulls back and smacks my left cheek. “I said, who does this ass belong to?”
“You,” I breathe out, almost a whisper. I can’t think straight with the way he’s playing my body. He must approve of my answer because he continues rewarding me with slaps. Each one is intense, but the pain barely registers anymore as he continues peppering my ass and thighs with spankings.
I feel vulnerable and open, but instead of the anxiety that normally comes with those emotions, a deep sense of peace and joy washes over me. He’s taken care of me in my most vulnerable state. I’m safe with him , my brain repeats with each blow to my backside.
My thighs squeeze together, seeking friction as an intense feeling builds in my core.
“Are you going to come for me, sweetheart?”
I have trouble forming words. All that comes out are some low moans and a nod.
“Spread your legs.”
Obeying his command, I open my legs wider, and his palm smacks against my pussy.
“Your perfect cunt is so wet for me.” His praise lights me up as his hand slaps against me again, harder and against my clit. That’s all it takes for me to fall over the edge, exploding like a firework, each pulse and flutter a different color illuminating the night sky in my brain.
My mouth fails to form the words that are beating wildly in my chest. Yes. This feels right. You feel like you’re made for me. I want you. I might be falling for you.
“Fuck, I need to be inside of you right now.” His confession feels as urgent as the emotions swirling around my chest. The sound of his clothing hitting the floor is followed by the ripping of foil as he rolls on the condom.
Pulling my hips up and toward him, he thrusts into me in one quick movement.
“Fuuuck,” he groans as he starts pulsing slowly inside of me. “I forgot how good your pussy feels squeezing my cock. Fucking made for me.”
The stretch is as intense as the first time we were together, and I grip the blanket for leverage as my teeth bite the balled-up fabric, breathing through the delicious pain as it quickly morphs into an intense ecstasy.
His left hand digs into the flesh of my hip as he brings his right down over my ass, smacking it every time he pulls back.
For once, my mind is at ease and quiet. All thoughts and anxiety spirals are silent as Ethan continues moving over me, the slapping of his hips against my ass getting more intense.
“I need to fuck you hard,” he pants, no apology in his tone.
My response is a long moan of “Yyyeeeeeeee,” incapable of forming the “S” sound due to the hard pounding of the huge cock inside me fucking with my ability to form words and finish thoughts. I can only focus on Ethan and the immense pleasure he’s giving me.
Hands grab at my hips, and I’m turned on my side as he straddles my bottom leg, extending my top leg out at a right angle. His fingers push into the meat of my thigh, holding me in place, thrusting his hips up each time he’s fully seated. His movements are slower and more controlled but no less intense as another orgasm builds in my core.
Coming is my only focus as my eyes close and stars dot my vision. I topple over the precipice of pleasure, my release bursting through me like a river breaking through a dam.
“This. Cunt. Is. Fucking. Mine,” Ethan grunts out, thrusting on each word before he stills with a guttural groan, his release filling the condom. He collapses onto the bed next to me, twisting as he falls, pulling my leg onto him. Before I realize it, I’m on his chest, our heavy breaths syncing in a rhythm as we come down from the high of our simultaneous releases.
Neither one of us says anything for several minutes as we lie here holding each other. What we shared was intense, raw, emotional. His hands stroke up and down my back, lightly grazing the skin as goosebumps prickle my flesh. I feel the bed jostle briefly as he gets up to remove the condom before he returns and snuggles me in close.
The silence stretches between us, and my mind starts unraveling, trying to analyze what just happened and what it means.
Ethan must sense the shift in me, and his hands move up, stroking my hair as he whispers in my ear, “You did so fucking good, sweetheart.”
My brain is having trouble processing, still coming down from the high as he rolls me over, the side of my head landing on his bicep. He leans into me, placing gentle kisses on my lips, cheeks, and neck, while his reassuring words wash over me.
“You’re so goddamn incredible.” Kiss.
“So fucking strong, sweetheart.” Kiss.
“I’m so proud of you.” Kiss.
He continues his soft kisses before stilling and rubbing my cheek with his thumb as he holds my face in his hands. Gradually, my breathing evens out, and my thoughts become lucid again.
“Welcome back, hellcat. How are you feeling?”
“What just happened?” I croak, trying to process my feelings.
“You entered subspace. Have you ever engaged in a dom/sub dynamic before?”
“No. I’ve been spanked before, but that’s never happened.”
“Sometimes, your mind can disassociate from the pain your body feels. Your senses might feel heightened. Time might appear to slow down. Or speed up. You might feel extremely relaxed or blissed out.” He runs his fingers down my back and along the back of my thigh. “Does this hurt?”
“It feels a little tender.”
“Your skin is a little pink. I got pretty rough with you near the end. It might hurt a little to sit tomorrow. I’ll have to pick up some arnica cream for you.”
“I have some, actually.”
The smirk on his face is playful. “You do?”
“Yeah, Becka made me a sex kit for the holidays this past year. She intended it to be a gag gift, but it has some useful items. I remember seeing arnica cream in it. I have no idea what it’s for, though.”
“It’s to soothe your skin after impact play, spanking, flogging, whipping, caning, that sort of thing.”
“How do you know so much about this?” I question, as a small streak of jealousy courses through me at the thought of him experiencing what we just did with anyone else.
“Jealous?”
“Maybe,” I admit. Shit, what is happening to me?
“I dated a girl who was into BDSM about a year ago, and I learned a lot about the lifestyle. We weren’t serious, but I was fascinated by the culture and deep in the throes of grief over losing Nonna. There’s a lot of research about its ability to help people process trauma and emotions. It helped me back then, and part of me wondered if it might help you get out of your head and be with me in the moment.”
His words should enrage me, but they don’t. Instead, there’s a dull throb in my chest as his admission pierces the pieces of my heart that are broken and scattered. Why does it feel as though he’s picking them up and exposing them back to me, handling them with much more care than they deserve?
It’s taken my brain a long time to warm up to the idea of letting someone in, but after tonight, it’s clear that has already happened. Ethan has laid claim to a piece of me that I’ve never shared with anyone else, and the revelation is both thrilling and unsettling.