Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
KIRA
I wake up feeling so warm and safe, and it takes me a second to realize that, once again, my cheek is plastered to the gentle rising and falling of Isaak’s warm, furry man chest.
I’m about to immediately pull away, embarrassed that I’ve wandered over the pillow wall again , when his big, muscled arm lands around my shoulder and pulls me back in.
“Where ya running to, babe? Unless you gotta pee? Then go and get that tight ass right back here when you’re done.”
As I shift, my body feels exactly how well-fucked it is, and all of last night comes flooding back in.
Holy shit.
I had sex. With Isaak.
I had a lot of sex with Isaak.
A lot of really good sex.
Like, blow-the-top-off-my-skull good sex. Better-sex-than-I’ve-ever-had-in-my-life good sex.
“Um. Okay. I’ll be right back.” Because I do have to pee. I scramble out of the sheets and hurry to the bathroom, almost embarrassed to look at myself in the mirror. Did I really do all those shameless things last night? Did I really ask him to go primal, then let him chase me around the hotel room and pin me on the floor and sixty-nine me?
But I can’t help glancing at myself.
I look nuts. My straightened hair has started to go frizzy with curls near my scalp, and it’s sticking out every which way with leftover product.
Oh my god, I must still stink of sex. We had all the sex and then just fell into bed without even showering.
I always shower after sex. Well… Usually, I’m trying to shower the guy off me. But then, um. I’ve never had holy-shit sex before.
I sort of sit there on the toilet after I’ve finished peeing, just staring at nothing. I literally don’t know what to do the morning after an experience like that. Do we cuddle? I was in his arms after we fell into bed last night and fell asleep from exhaustion. Then, like usual, we ended up in each other’s arms at some point in the night. So we were sort of cuddling. Do I call and order breakfast now? I haven’t done that all week, but I certainly worked up an appetite last night. Is that proper morning-after etiquette?
Or does he want to pretend it didn’t happen? I know I was the one who was drinking last night, but there was just sort of a mood. And what guy’s gonna say no when a willing young woman’s all but throwing herself on his dick?
“Did I lose you in here?”
My head jerks up to find Isaak standing in the bathroom doorway. Ridiculously, I shriek and cover my naked body. “You can’t be in here. I’m peeing!”
“Think you finished that a bit ago. Now you’re just noodling. Getting into your head about things that you don’t gotta get in your head about.”
I just stare up at him, mouth agape at all his hulking godlike muscledom. “I don’t?”
“No.” He lifts a finger beneath my chin and pops my mouth closed. “What do you want to do? Because that’s what we do. Whatever we want. Not what you think you should. Just whatever you really, really want. We can go climb back into bed. Or we can go get separate bedrooms if last night was just a one-night thing. We can?—”
“Can we take a shower together, then order breakfast?” I cut him off, lifting my eyebrows in hope.
He grins wide. “Absolutely.”
“Then that. That’s what I want,” I say in a rush.
He saunters into the bathroom in all of his glorious nakedness and turns on the shower. While his back is turned, I quickly finish up and flush the toilet, then go to wash my hands. The whole time, I’m staring in the mirror at his taut backside.
“You, um, work out a lot?”
His deep chuckle echoes off the bathroom tiles. Then he looks over his broad shoulder at me. “It’s kind of required for the job.”
Now that it’s the bright light of day and I’m a little less lust-drunk, standing here naked in front of such a gorgeous man is a far more self-conscious activity than it was last night. Is showering with the lights off a thing? Lights off showering should really be a thing.
“I don’t know.” I bend my arms like a Picasso painting to cover as much of my torso and boobs as possible at once. I’d say he looks like the statue of David, except David could only wish he had as much hanging between his legs as Isaak does. “Plenty of bouncers are just big guys with beer bellies. I could really handle you having a healthy paunch right about now.”
He laughs full out and turns around to me. “I have aspirations of doing more than just be a bouncer. Plus, then I couldn’t do this. ”
He stalks over the couple of steps to me and hikes me easily into his arms. I screech as he flings me through the air, my arms clinging to his neck and my legs wrapping around his waist.
It feels so good being in his arms again. But also, chest to chest like this, it’s the first time all morning I’ve really looked deeply into the gray eyes that are now locked on mine.
“Hey.” His deep voice is always more raspy and growly in the mornings. “You okay about everything last night?”
I nod because speech feels like an upper-level executive function I’m not quite capable of at the moment.
“Cause I know that was sudden and…” A frown enters his forehead. “You were in a vulnerable spot after a night like that, and maybe I was taking advantage of my position and experience?—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Speech thankfully returns in a rush. “You didn’t take advantage of anything. You’re not my boss or my professor. You’re not even that much older than me.”
Thirty-sex. Thirty-sex. Thirty-sex.
He narrows his eyebrows. “I’d say fifteen years counts, babe.”
I swallow, biting my bottom lip. I usually make it a rule to never date over ten. I know, I know, but guys my age are simpletons, and even the thirty-year-olds haven’t been much better. My therapist says I need to stop dating men older than me. But has she met a twenty-two-year-old boy? Drew’s the only one I can even tolerate, and he’s?—
Your fiancé .
Shit. While yes, we are in an open relationship, after last night, I can’t imagine he’d like me sleeping with Isaak any more than I would him with Bethany Anne. And not because of jealousy in either case but because sleeping with people who are too close can start to get… messy.
He shifts me in his arms like he’s about to set me down. “So maybe you should shower solo.”
“What?” I cling tighter to his neck. “No way.”
But he’s all but set me on my feet, so I’m just hanging from him with my arms around my neck. I finally let go and land the last foot down to the tile, then stare up at him, both of us frowning at one another now.
“No big deal, then.” I try to play it off. “Last night was just us blowing off steam, right? And we’re both consenting adults. Next year, I get my Ph.D. I’ve always been old for my age.”
Isaak tilts his head at me, a compassion I don’t want to see in his eyes. “You know that’s not a thing, right?”
“What do you mean? Of course, it’s a thing. Plenty of kids grow up too young. With the mother and father I had, I practically raised myself.”
“Me, too,” he says, “but it doesn’t mean I wasn’t still just a kid when I signed up for the Army at eighteen.”
“I’m not eighteen,” I grind out through my teeth.
He rolls his eyes, mocking. “Right, right. ’Cause you’re four whole years older than eighteen.”
I shove him in the chest, which naturally doesn’t move him an inch. Even more infuriating. “Please. You barely have the maturity level of some of my students. And I’m light-years more emotionally intelligent than you.”
He bends down to get right in my face. “Oh, is that right, Professor?”
Steam from the running shower wafts around us.
I get right back in his face. “Yes. It is. You pompous, overgrown?—”
My words are cut off by him grabbing my face and kissing me.
Oh, thank god. I hurl my arms back around his neck and walk him backward toward the glass shower door. He opens it, and then we’re inside the large, steam-filled enclosure.
“Fuck, couldn’t wait to get my hands on this goddamned sexy body of yours, Professor,” he mutters, his mouth working down my neck in a way that has my fingernails digging into his hair.
Then his hands are on my tits, and I feel his cock hard between my legs. He squirts some soap on his hands and reaches down. I look between our bodies and watch him fist his big cock as he washes it and his balls. In his hands, it still looks big, but not as big as when I reach down my hand to take over for him.
“Jesus, woman.”
I like it when he calls me woman . I don’t care if it means I’m not living by some proper ideals of being a feminist. What’s more feminist than getting what I want as a woman? And this feels so good. It means he’s not seeing me as some kid that’s too young for him. Because that’s not how we are together when we’re sparring with words and the sexual tension between us rises to these incredible heights.
I mean, yeah, he’s bigger and older, and I know that he has more experience. But thank god for that because all the boys I’ve fucked in the past were just that: boys who didn’t know how to even pronounce clitoris right, much less know where it was located.
So yes, Isaak’s experience means he knows how to fuck. It’s more than just that, though.
Maybe he’s right and I am young in ways I still don’t even know, yet. And maybe that’s even part of the attraction. But my gut knows he’s better for me than everything else in my fucked up life.
Better for me than Drew, who’s been breaking my heart since I was twelve and started to know what a crush was.
I lick Isaak’s nipple and reach with my sudsy hand below his shaft to his big balls, rolling them in my hands, then rub lower until I’m washing his taint.
“Jesus fuck, woman,” Isaak hisses. “You want me to lose my load right here?”
“Yes, actually,” I say, fascinated. “I’d love that.”
“Too bad,” he growls, “I’ve got other plans.”
He tugs me away from him so he can finish washing, and I love watching the rough way he handles himself.
“Can I watch you masturbate sometime?” I ask with bated breath. “I really like to watch.”
He looks up at me and shakes his head. “So you are a voyeuristic little dirty bird, after all.”
I bite my bottom lip. It feels so freeing to talk openly about it to someone. I know Moira and Quinn wouldn’t judge me, but it felt too awkward to tell my new friends what I liked when they were participating in some of the scenes I was watching.
“I seriously only went to the club to observe for my dissertation.”
Moving his back under the shower spray, Isaak looks at me skeptically, and I amend my statement. “At first. But after my first visit, I knew I was far enough down the self-actualization path to acknowledge that I’ve got a voyeurism kink. Kind of hard to ignore after I went home and masturbated all night thinking about everything I’d seen.”
Isaak finishes washing himself and squirts more soap into his hands, one eyebrow raised as he tugs me to him, my back to his front. His soapy hands come to my breasts, and I suck in a quick breath as my nipples immediately peak.
“Well this I do want to hear about. What turned you on the most?” he asks as he begins to meticulously wash me under my breasts first. Then he cups them and tweaks my soapy nipples in between his thumb and forefinger.
My breathing is so short I’m panting now. Between his body and the warm, soothing steam, I swear I’m in fucking heaven. “I don’t know. All of it. Watching everyone give in to their basest desires. Watching subs crawl around and seem so fulfilled at their dominant’s feet. Seeing the scenes where people would really push each other in physical, sexual, and painful ways. And like, with the good doms, there’s this perfect balance of trust. Watching a sub go into subspace, holy shit, that’s powerful. It seems like such a release. I’ve always wondered what that would feel like.”
Isaak’s stopped washing me. He’s just holding me now, and he slowly turns me around to face him.
“So it’s not just the sex,” he says thoughtfully. “Do you want to be submissive?”
I frown. “I don’t know. But I want to know what subspace feels like someday.” It feels wild to say all this out loud to somebody. Stuff I don’t even tell my therapist.
Isaak leans down, and his voice is deep and growly in my ear as he whispers, “All that you desire should be yours, Princess.”