Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Lukas
She lays there, eyes hazy and dreamy, her body devoid of all the tension she carried with her when she first appeared on my doorstep. Her lips curl into a drunken smile.
I gave her that smile.
Her hair is like wild strawberries in a field during summer, far spreading but tethered to the roots.
She lets out a tiny, satisfied moan as I leave the bed and put my pants back on. Her hands and feet are still bound, and her body has my marks all over it. My stomach knots. God, she’s amazing. When can I get her like this again?
Starting with her hands, I unlatch the leather cuffs around her wrists. The leather tightens before releasing. The straps didn’t leave any marks. Good. But her thighs must be burning. I’ve never seen her stretch this wide for this long. She’s gonna need a lot of after care.
Once unbound, I expect her to jump out of bed and, at best, run out, at worst, attack me with my lamp. But she stays still. Waiting.
“Hold on, I need to clean you up.” I don’t even recognize my own gravelly voice.
When I walk into my bathroom, I wet a towel with warm water and grab a second dry one. I catch a quick glance in the mirror. My skin still has the heated sex rash, despite the total lack of sex on my part, and there’s a self satisfied grin on my lips.
Stop. Take care of her. That’s number one.
Waverly has her arm draped across her chest, not covering anything up, relaxed. Her legs are closed, and the dreamy drunkenness has left her eyes. Reality is dissipating her sex fog.
The bed dips as I sit on the edge. Her thighs are still warm as I pull one close to me. “Open up.” She moves her other leg with something like a half-moan half-groan. I’m not fluent in her noises, I can’t tell if she’s hurt or annoyed that she has to move. “It’s warm,” I warn, pressing the wet cloth against her folds. She needs to be clean, safe, and secure before I send her on her way.
With one long stroke, my cum on her stomach is erased. Like it never happened.
“What are you doing?” Her voice is quiet.
“Cleaning you up.” I press the dry, fluffy towel against her skin. “I thought it was obvious.”
“It is, but why are you doing it? Most of the time if a guy is nice enough to get me a towel, he chucks it at my face.”
While I’m grateful she doesn’t say my fuckwad brother’s name, I want to strangle him again for lowering her standards to a sub-basement level. “Yeah, not going to happen when you’re with me.”
I don’t say anything as I leave the room. When I return with a glass of water and a cookie on a plate, she’s sitting up, folding the towel.
“You don’t need to do that,” I say, putting the plate on my nightstand and handing her the water.
Her face twists into a cautious side-eye, but she takes a long sip, watching me the entire time. This is her ‘waiting for the other shoe to drop’ face.
I take the glass from her, take a quick gulp for myself, and open my nightstand drawer to get the massage oil. “You should eat the cookie while I work on your thighs.”
The air in the room changes. Her shoulders stiffen and the side-eye changes to anger. Here it comes . I imagine her screaming, “Fuck you, Lukas. I hate you. This was all a mistake.”
“What the actual fuck!” she predictably snaps. “What do you mean, ‘work on your thighs?’’’
I show her the massage oil. “You used a lot of muscles you normally don’t. I don’t want you to be sore.”
She points to me. “What the hell is that? What’s happening right now?”
“After care,” I state obviously.
“So what, you’re going to massage me and then what? We snuggle and talk about my feelings?”
I rub the back of my neck. “Well, actually…”
Her index fingers circle against her temples. “Are you telling me for my whole adult life I could’ve had mind blowing orgasms, cookies, and a massage?”
Ok. Now I’m confused. “Is that a problem?” Some of my own frustration bleeds into my words.
“Yes! I didn’t even know it was an option! Does this happen every time?” Her jaw is as tense as it was when she first came over.
“Um, yeah. I mean cookies aren’t always involved, I happened to have them in the kitchen and thought your body might need the carbs.” For the first time, I’m not sure what to do. I’ve never had anyone react this way. “Are you alright?”
“NO!” Her cries bounce off my walls. “I’ve been betrayed! Did everyone know this was a thing?”
“Well, the kink community is pretty large, but the entire world’s population isn’t in it.”
She throws her hands back and slams her knuckles against my headboard. She yelps and I rush to tend to her hands. Red marks are already appearing on her skin. She doesn’t pull away as I brush my thumbs across her knuckles. She sighs. “Is this standard operating procedure?”
I nod. “You gave me your body, you let me pleasure you, break you, and use you.”
She interrupts. “It was pretty awesome. I really didn’t mind.” She won’t make eye contact, staring at our joined hands. I can see the pink creeping back into her cheeks with the memories of what we just did.
I shake my head. “Now I take care of you and you don’t leave until you are clean, safe and secure. That’s my privilege.”
“Gotta say, it sort of seems like a win-win for me. Why aren’t they handing out pamphlets about this at my OBGYN?”
I can’t stop my laughter. “This isn’t exactly everyone’s taste. There’s a lot that can go wrong if partners aren’t in sync.”
Her face falls slightly. Waverly reaches for the cookie and takes a bite, mulling over her thoughts. “I can’t tell if this is how it’s supposed to be, or if it’s different because it’s with you.”
My heart stops. The same thought had been screaming in my head the entire time.
I want to reach for her, to push back her hair and hold her, then she breaks half the cookie and places it to my lips. It’s the offer, the smell of chocolate. I take a bite without thinking.
I’ve never had anyone take care of me.
Fuck.
Dripping the oil on her leg, she flinches from the cold sensation. “Let’s recap. In the first act, what did you like? Did anything make you feel uneasy?”
She’s still eating the cookie, but I figure she will need time to process this whole event. “I liked holding my arms back. It was a strange dichotomy between my shoulders being uncomfortable and the front of my body receiving pleasure. It kept tricking my brain.”
“Was it painful?” I ask, kneading her inner thigh muscles. “Because pain and hurt are two different things.”
She nods. “I get that pain is more in the short term and focused. Hurt is longer lasting and deeper.” Waverly reaches for the water again. Good, I don’t need to remind her to stay hydrated. “In the moment, I didn’t like that I couldn’t touch you. I’m sorry I started to cry.”
“Don’t!” It sounds harsher than I’m expecting, and she winces. Softer, I try again. “Don’t apologize. It was my mistake for not fully explaining it to you. You needed to touch me to feel wanted. That was your need, and I missed it at first.”
She gives me a little shrug. “Mistakes happen.” Were her standards so low, she expected me to screw up? Had she been conditioned to assume men would hurt her?
“I was the one who was wrong. I should’ve figured it out…” I hesitate to bring it up. “After such a huge betrayal, you needed to reconnect.”
She turns away from me. “Did you mean it? Or was it all caught in the moment theatrics?”
“Be more specific.” Clarity is critical in communication. Vagueness creates breakdowns. Her eyes dart around the room. “Waverly, find one thing to look at, it doesn’t need to be me, but get the words out.”
Her eyes drift to the doorknob to my bathroom. “Did you mean it when you said I was beautiful?”
“Absolutely.” I said it too fast or too desperate. Either way, her lips curl at the corners.
Her shoulders huddle forward, trying to make herself small. “No one else but you could touch me?”
She needs the truth. It’s foundational to this relationship. I don’t want to tell her, it’s laying too many cards on the table. Too many emotions. But I must. “You are everything I like, and if you want to get more out of this relationship, I’ll give it to you.” I move my attention to the other leg. “But this is all new to you, and there’s always the possibility that what you like isn’t what I like to do. Maybe we should fill out a Yes No Maybe checklist. Then we can talk about our potential future sexual encounters.” My gut says we are real, but it could also be wishful thinking.
She makes a little harrumph sound. “I’m pretty sure our open communication about sex chat is the longest conversation we’ve ever had.”
Oh shit, she’s right. “Um, is there something else you want to talk about? Dinosaurs, cows, your favorite Amanda Chase album? You’re still a fan, right.”
She snuggles into my arms, and I can feel her cheek tighten on my chest as she smiles. “I could get a Ted Talk on all three of the topics, but my brain is in a sex-filled drunk cloud of goo.”
I try to keep my voice even. “What else did you like?”
Her eyes flash and a wide grin spreads on her lips. “I really like being tied up. The restriction and trusting you took me where I needed to go, and it was awesome.” She gives me a thumbs up—yep that’s a new reaction. “And the cookies, a big fan of the cookies.”
“Noted.” Reaching for her bra and underwear from the floor, I move into the redressing phase. I want one more chance to enjoy her naked form for the masterpiece she is. She reaches for her clothes, but I pull them away. “I’ll do this. Put out your arms.”
She side- eyes me. “I can do this on my own.”
“I have no doubts. You’re a functional adult, but this is all a part of my process. I return what I remove.” She agrees and slides in her arms while I push her hair over his shoulder.
As I latch the back of her bra, her bare skin calls to me. I brush my lips against the tender spot where her neck meets her shoulder. She moans and settles back into my embrace. But her skin is getting cold. I need to move faster.
“You’re staying the night.”
She nods. “I don’t want to be alone.” She turns around on the bed and puts her legs out so I can get one last touch as I slide her thong over her thighs, but she frowns. “Ugh, wet underwear is the worst.”
My lips curl. “I guess you’ll need to keep a spare pair here. I can’t have you uncomfortable.” My fingers hook around the elastic and pull the thong back down around her ankles and toss it across the room. It can be a problem for tomorrow morning.
She blushes. “So, did I pass the test? Am I in the cool kink club now? Um, not the literal club Joey runs, but the Lukas and Waverly kink club?”
This woman. I shake my head in an attempt to hold back my laughter. She looks at me with her dreamy eyes, wrapped up in my blanket, and years of confusion and abandonment vanish. She never got the journal. She should’ve been in this bed for years. This should’ve been our home, but instead now we’re starting in this weird place.
Well, we have to start somewhere.
“Congratulations. You are in the kink club.”
“Is there a membership card?”
“Not yet.” I crawl into bed with her, pressing her body against mine. This feels right. And dangerous.
“Is this what you meant when you said you wanted me back in your life?”
My fingers run down her spine, circling around her tattoo and back up. “Well, I was thinking about seeing a movie or something.”
“Oh,” she whispers. Then she lifts her head off my chest and her sweet and not at all innocent smile spreads across her lips. “But this is better, right?”
“Absolutely, love.”
Better than I could’ve ever hoped.