Chapter 14
Gideon
S he’s kneeling on the carpet in front of me with her attention down just like a good sub should. Her hair is mass of wild white-blonde curls down her back, her body is all pale, silky perfection, and my cock is getting hungry for more.
But my body can fucking deal with itself, because the conversation we just had has put me off-balance in way I can’t remember being before. She was so sharp and the way she looked at me, the things she said, were so insightful that she literally took my breath away.
She should have no concept of who I am, not as a man, and yet what she said about us being alike and letting the world pass us by…
She’s right.
Perhaps. I know I cut off a lot of friends after Gabrielle’s death, burying myself in my work so I didn’t have to deal with them.
I let my son grieve without me because I couldn’t handle his grief as well as my own, and that has left scars on us both.
The only physical contact I have is purely sexual in nature, and only when I have direct control over the situation.
And the conversation I’ve just had with my son’s twenty-something-year-old ex-girlfriend is the most I’ve talked to anyone about Gabrielle’s death in years.
She is right. I’m closed off and isolated and the world is passing me by, but that’s by choice. I didn’t want to deal with the world and so I didn’t. I still don’t, and yet I can’t stop looking at her and wondering what it is about her that has me talking like this and thinking like this?
Why, out of all the subs I’ve had, is she the one who has managed to get under my guard? Is it because of what she said? That we’re alike? That we’re kindred spirits in that our spirits have been battered and bruised and want comfort in each other?
She’s beautiful, no question, but as I keep thinking and keep discovering, there’s more to her than beauty. She’s submissive and yet she was challenging me now as if she hadn’t been obeying me seconds before. And now she’s back to being submissive again, offering to tend to me.
I do not, a rule, let subs serve me anything other than their bodies. I don’t have them bring me food or drink, or undress me, or bathe me. I don’t like how those things close the distance between me and a sub, especially when the serving is in a non-sexual way.
So I should say no to her. Get another toy from the coffee table, maybe the flogger, and whip her for her insolence.
Deny her another orgasm then have her suck me off.
Get the butt plug that’s still in the box, that I decided was too much for her first night, and put it in her, work it until she’s crying and then take her ass with my dick.
I should… But… I’m tired all of a sudden. I’m tired of all of this. Tired of the grief and pain, and the regrets I have over Lucas. Tired of the barren field that my life has somehow become. Tired of fighting myself and my susceptibility to this beautiful woman.
She’s here, offering me what both the Master and the man want, and so why shouldn’t I take it? What harm would it do? She wants to give me relief, and yes, I fucking want it. I fucking need it.
“Beautifully offered,” I murmur. “Well done, sub.”
She flushes, a pretty pink wave washing down her neck and over her lovely breasts. “Thank you, Master.”
“Yes,” I say. “Yes, sub. You can tend to me.”
She looks up then, a startled, bright silver glance directly at me before looking back down again.
Another thing I should punish her for since I didn’t tell her to look at me.
But I’m not going to punish her. I saw how badly she wants to serve me and how it both surprised and pleased her that I accepted her offer.
I’m not immune to her desires, and she’s been so good, so honest and open with me.
So generous, too, smart and sharp, and challenging into the bargain.
What she wants, I want, and I’m even thinking of letting her have free rein to please me however she wants, which is something I never give a sub.
But like I’ve thought once already, she’s different. She’s special. Tonight, she’s gotten under my skin and I want her to stay there.
“How best can I serve you, Master?” she asks.
I lean forward again, cupping her cheek the way I did before, wanting to touch her, lifting her gaze back to mine again. “However you like, sub,” I say.
She blushes again, heat flickering in her gaze, and I drop my hand, sitting back on the couch. Looking at her, letting her know I’m waiting for her to make her move.
And she does.
Rising with grace from the floor, she bends over me, her fingers reaching for the buttons on my shirt, undoing them one by one. She’s unhurried and careful, as if she wants to make this slow unbuttoning last, and I find myself wanting it to last, too.
I watch her as she does it, observing the finely drawn lines of her face, the pale brows and sharp nose, the full mouth and pointed chin.
And then further down over her throat and collarbones, to the softness of her breasts and pink and pretty nipples.
It’s a leisurely journey I take as I look further, over her stomach and down between her parted thighs to where she’s even pinker. And slick, and hot.
Her hands shake as she pulls my shirt out of its tuck at my waistband, undoing those last couple of buttons. And I know she likes the way I look at her. Which is good, because she is quite the beautiful sight.
She spreads my shirt open and then eases it off my shoulders.
I’ve already undone the cuffs so when she pushes the sleeves down my arms, the fabric slides off readily enough.
Once I’m shirtless, her hands drop to my belt and she fumbles a little with the buckle.
I don’t help her, since her light touches and shaking fingers are evidence of how badly I affect her, and I fucking love watching her deal with that. It’s getting me hard.
Finally she unbuckles my belt, then undoes the button and zipper of my pants and spreads the fabric wide. There’s no hiding how hard I am and since I’ve decided I’m not going to deny myself this time, I want her to know what her handiwork has done to me.
“What are you planning, sub?” I murmur, watching her pink face as she stares down at my cock as it pushes hard against the fabric of my boxers. “You’ve got me all worked up which means you’re going to have to fix the problem.”
“Yes, Master,” she says breathlessly, her fingers fluttering over the fabric as if she doesn’t quite have the bravery to touch me.
I put her out of her misery, saying quietly, “I told you to serve me however you like, so there’s no need to ask permission.”
She sucks in a little breath and then her fingers are on me, tracing the hard line of my cock through the fabric of my underwear.
It’s a maddening touch, too light and gentle, but I don’t push her.
I want to see what this woman is going to do next.
She’s been nothing but surprises so far and I want to see what others she has in store for me.
I expect her to pull my dick out, but she doesn’t. Instead, she kneels back on the floor and attends to my shoes, taking them off with my socks, one by one. Once that’s done, she kneels upright and grabs the waistband of my pants, her gaze lowered. “Let me take these off for you, Master,” she says.
So I help her slide my pants off and my underwear too until I’m sitting naked on the couch. It’s not a situation I usually find myself in, in a scene. It’s the sub who gets naked and only if they’re very lucky do they even touch my bare skin, let alone see my entire body.
I have no problem with nakedness, it’s the intimacy of it that I have issues with. And yet sitting here now, watching my sub look at me with her eyes wide and her mouth a pretty O of surprise and pleasure, I’m wondering if I’ve been doing myself out of a few things that could have been very erotic.
She kneels upright on the floor in front of the couch, between my spread thighs, and then she leans forward and I expect her to go straight for my cock.
But she doesn’t. Placing a hand on either side of the couch cushions, she leans in and presses her mouth to my throat.
Then she moves down, raining kisses onto my chest and abdomen.
They’re light kisses, and gentle, and then she lifts her hands and begins to touch me with the same gentleness. I haven’t been kissed like this nor touched like this in years, as if I’m a precious work of art and worth taking the time over and I can’t believe how fucking incredible it feels.
I’m hard and getting harder, yet I don’t want to rush her.
She’s sensual and delicious and her mouth on me feels too good.
Her hands stroking my chest and the heat of her body as she leans forward between my thighs is intoxicating.
The Master wants to play, to grab her head and force it down, push my cock into her mouth, but I hold back because the way she’s touching me feels too good to deny.
She strokes my stomach, leaning forward to place her mouth on my skin and I lift an idle hand, winding my fingers into the white-blonde fall of her hair.
It’s soft and silky, and I stroke it, watching her mouth move lower and lower.
The pale silk of it brushes against my bare thighs, the hot press of her lips moving even lower, and I find I don’t want to put her mouth where it needs to be.
I like this slow exploration of me. I like the soft noises she makes as her tongue licks the muscles of abdomen, a little hum, and the feel of her exploring fingers moving over my thighs.
Sensuality, yes, that’s what this is. Unhurried. Easy. Touching for the sake of it, for the pleasure. I can’t remember the last time I let a sub do this, and maybe I never have. Maybe I’ve never let a woman touch me this way, not since Gabrielle.
Her fingers stroke down my calves and then slide around behind them and stroke back up, and a shiver goes through me. Fuck, since when do I shiver when a woman touches me? When usually it’s the other way around?
But I don’t want to stop her so I don’t, letting her lick me, touch me, caress me. Then she lifts her head, her face pink, her silver eyes glowing like stars.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
“May I taste you, Master?” Her voice is husky and I can hear the hunger the words. Can see it in her eyes too, and I love that she’s hungry for me. I fucking love it.
“Yes.” I want that mouth of hers around my cock and I want it now, but I also want her gentle explorations, her little licks. My cock is hard, but my body is relaxed and I want to keep hold of that feeling. “But take your time.”
She smiles at me then, as if I’ve given her a gift, and something in my chest tightens inexplicably.
She was wasted on that son of mine, completely fucking wasted.
He’s too young, too full of himself, to truly understand what he had in her.
He has the self-centeredness that young men do, not bothering to look beyond the end of their own dick because they’re too caught up in what they want.
Which is not a criticism — I was the same at his age.
But I’m not now, and I can see the things he doesn’t, such as her steel, her quiet courage, her glittering spirit. Her empathy.
She’s breathing very fast as she touches my cock, stroking it gently with her fingers.
Again, she’s different. She’s paying attention, being careful in a way I don’t think another sub ever has, and it’s maddening.
I’m so fucking hard, my body impatient, but I don’t want her to stop her delicate explorations.
She glances up at me, her silver gaze darkened now with desire, and even though she doesn’t ask I know she wants to see if I’m okay with what she’s doing.
Pretty little swan.
“Odette,” I murmur, my voice rough with need, my fingers tangling gently in her hair. “The swan princess from Swan Lake.”
Surprise crosses her face and then she flushes even pinker. “My mother named me after her. I don’t much like it.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“Swans are supposed to be delicate and kind of breakable, and you know, the implications are…”
“Hate to break it to you but swans can be vicious.” I smile at her as I wind a curl around her finger. I’m still hard as stone, but I can wait. I want to wait. “I had a couple in a pond in my house in the Hamptons. We had to give them a wide berth.”
“Oh, well, maybe that’s okay then,” she says, grinning. “I don’t mind being vicious.”
“And they mate for life,” I add.
Something flickers through her eyes, but it’s gone before I can tell what it is. “I didn’t know that.”
“Well, now, you do.” I meet her gaze. “Keep going, swan princess.”