CHAPTER 52
Sierra straddles my face and rewards me with the ambrosia of the gods. Holding onto the cab for support, she takes control, as always, and starts grinding her pretty, perfect pussy while I lick, and slurp, and suck. I moan into her cunt, convinced that I could come without anyone touching my dick, if she rode my face long enough.
She’s gone before I’ve had my fill, pulling back the moment her legs begin to shake. It’s hard to complain when her taste is all over my face. It’s impossible to complain when she positions my dick at her entrance and moans, “I need you to fill me up, Mateo.”
“Yes–” I groan and lose track of my thoughts as she taps my cockhead against her swollen clit. “Shiiit, Sierra, fuck me. Please.”
She sinks down onto me so slowly, I’d be bucking my hips and telling her to go faster if her pussy weren’t so damned good. Warm and soft, her pussy grips my dick each time she pulls back. When she finally takes all of me, I’m not sure which of us moans louder.
“Fuck, Sierra,” I breathe. The moonlight is a halo behind her; the glow is hazy and diffuse, as if it’s emanating from her and melting back into her golden skin. “You’re so damn beautiful. I–”
“Shhh.” She places one finger over my lips and starts slowly grinding. “We have to stay quiet.”
I bite her finger and grin when she pulls away.
“The only way you’re going to keep me quiet is to gag me.”
“That can be arranged,” she says with a smirk that should probably frighten me.
A second later, her panties are stuffed in my mouth, and I can’t think of a better start to her riding me hard and fast. I moan her name into the wet fabric and clench my fists, trying hard not to come while she bounces on my dick like she’s racing to see how quickly she can make me fall apart.
All my desperate noises are muffled, but there’s nothing keeping her quiet as her legs begin to shake and her movements grow more erratic.
“Come for me, cari?ito. Come–now,” she gasps. “I need to feel you.”
Her permission may as well be magic. I growl her name into her panties and nut inside her. My entire body tenses as I fill the condom. She screams my name and collapses against my chest–her perfect cunt milking me until neither of us can move.
I spit her panties to the side and kiss the top of her head. Over and over, my lips against her silken strands. When I think she’s fallen asleep with my dick softening inside of her, she sits up and slides off of me. Sierra moves efficiently. She unties my hands and massages my wrists while inspecting for any red marks or irritation. She digs in her bag for a pack of baby wipes before removing the condom, and she takes her time cleaning us both before handing me my clothes.
While I squirm into my boxers and pants, knowing there’s no way for me to make it look sexy without getting up, she shrugs into just my shirt. She makes herself comfortable and pats the space beside her.
I join her beneath one of the blankets. The silence between us is the most comfortable it’s been all night. There’s no need to speak when she’s cuddled half-naked in my arms, tracing designs into my bare chest while I stare up at the stars.
“Where’d you learn all that?” I drag her hair ribbon over her arms.
“I’ve been into it for a couple of years now,” she says. With one last kiss planted to my chest, Sierra pushes herself up onto her elbows to look down at me. “The first few times I had sex, I thought I just really wasn’t into it. Honestly, I didn’t get what all the fuss was about, and I was pretty upset that I’d wasted all those years being horny as hell, just to awkwardly avoid eye contact while my boyfriend and I had sex. He wasn’t a bad guy, or one of those who’s terribly selfish in bed, and he wasn’t even all that inexperienced. He genuinely tried to make it good for me, and that almost made it worse. A few months after we broke up, my girlfriend was the first person to introduce me to kink. And the first person to make me come.”
“She taught you?”
“She floated the idea that I might not be able to fully enjoy myself unless I’m in a position of control. She was a switch, so she was able to help me understand the Domme role from experience while also happy to be submissive during our scenes. Eventually, she introduced me to an LGBTQ kink community in our area–”
“She took you to a BDSM dungeon?” I ask, a little overconfident in the small amount of research I’d done since our first night in the locker room.
“She took me to a munch, which is way tamer than it sounds. We met at a local dive bar burger place and spent a couple hours getting to know each other. By the time the line dancing started, I’d found a mentor.” She shrugs and looks out at the scenery around us. “Honestly, other than my moms, that community is what I’ve missed most about the move.”
“Have you found a community in LA yet?” I ask.
“There are plenty to choose from, but I haven’t had the time. Even though the NDA’s and privacy agreements are taken very seriously, it’s kind of nerve wracking to think about testing out new groups now that people recognize me.”
“Daaaamn, rookie. You throw one no-hitter, and it really has gone to your head, hasn’t it?” I tease. “The season’s almost over now. Once we’re back, I’ll go with you. We can test out a few until you find one that you like, and I can look for a mentor of my own.”
“We should get going,” she says, ignoring my suggestion, but she doesn’t reject it either.
“Alright. On one condition.” I sit up and reach for her arm to stop her from rushing out of our makeshift bed. “Will you show me more of what you’re into?”
“I am not doing any of this in my mothers’ house!”
“Good thing I have a hotel room, then.”
Sierra calls her moms letting them know not to stay up, while I drive us back to my hotel. Try as I might to not eavesdrop, I can’t help smiling at the protective moms who grill her for essential information despite the fact that she’s a twenty-four-year-old adult who no longer lives at home. I don’t realize how broad my grin is until she reaches for my hand and returns a smile of her own before lowering the phone to the console and putting it on speaker.
They keep her on the phone until we’ve reached the hotel. I open Sierra’s door, and both of her moms wish me a goodnight and tell me to be safe, making me flush and wonder how long they’ve known they were on speaker.
Instead of climbing down from the cab, Sierra grabs me by the collar of my shirt and pulls me in for a kiss. I rest my hands on her thighs and tilt my face up to meet hers, loving every bit of the control she has over me–amplified in this position where she sits above me, as if waiting to be worshipped on some strange modern throne. The kiss lasts forever and not nearly long enough.
I’m not ready to let go when she pulls away. Grabbing her by the hips, I slide her from the seat. She gasps in surprise, but her long legs wrap around my waist, and she clings to my shoulders without complaint.
“My bag,” she says before I can shut the door behind us.
I turn so she can grab the bag. It thuds heavily against us when she slings it over her shoulder, and, for the first time tonight, I begin to wonder what exactly she packed.
We cross the short parking lot clinging to one another. The lobby is empty except for the single employee with their back turned and attention focused on a printer eliciting a steady, low string of swears, but I can’t ignore the way Sierra hides her face in my neck. As if that would do anything to deter prying eyes. Oliver’s comment from months ago springs to mind while I lean against the back of the elevator; they both believe that her career would be more at risk, and I can’t dispute that after the way fans reacted to our picture.
I carry her across the threshold and try not to imagine wedding nights and honeymoon suites that I have no business thinking of this early in our relationship. She drops her legs, forcing us both to a halt. I’m not surprised that she reasserted control before I could toss her into bed, but I am confused when she reaches under the television and hands me the empty ice bucket.
“Go fill this up,” she demands. “All the way to the top.”
I accept the task without question. When I reach the door she tells me to hurry back, as if I would possibly choose otherwise. I practically run down the hallway and back like I’m racing a ball to home plate.
The first thing I notice when I enter my hotel room is the scent: strawberries, vanilla, and bubblegum. The entire space smells like Sierra but concentrated. Most of the lights are off, and the few lamps that remain are dimmed by gauzy fabric that bathes the room in soft red shadows.
“Don’t be shy now,” Sierra says without looking up from the two small candles she’s arranged beside the large one on beneath a warming lamp. She floats across the room, stripped back down to her sexy bralette and the matching panties that I suddenly miss having in my mouth. Taking the bucket of ice with a quick kiss of approval, she sets it down beside the contents of her purse, now conveniently arranged atop a bath towel on the desk. “No clothes on the bed, viejito.”
I scramble out of my clothes so quickly, I lose my balance and tumble into the bed with my pants hooked around my ankles. Sierra laughs and gestures for me to scoot back. When my head reaches the pillows, and my feet are no longer dangling, she grabs my pants and tosses them aside.
“How do you feel?” she kneels between my legs to ask. “Do you need time to prep or anything?”
I shake my head and answer, “Like I can’t get enough of you. Whatever you have planned for tonight–” I gesture toward what I assume are sex toys obscured by the towel, “I want it. All of it. If you’re willing to teach me.”
She drags one nail up my inner thigh and cups my balls gently before answering.
“The first lesson, is never to give anyone blanket permission to do whatever they want with you. Not even me. I know what you meant, and I appreciate your trust, but consent isn’t all or nothing, especially with kink.” She climbs down from the bed and carefully moves both the ice bucket and the towel full of toys to the bed beside us. “I have a few things I want to try with you tonight, but if you aren’t comfortable with any of them, we’ll take them off the table. Okay?”
I nod. “I know what a safe word is, mami. I’ve seen–”
“Please don’t tell me whatever movie you’re thinking,” she interrupts with a smile that belies the frustrated shake of her head. “Whatever you’ve seen, forget all of it. Unless it was that cute Korean femdom one.”
“Korean femdom one?”
“We’ll watch it together,” she says. “Another time. Anyway, it’s good that you know what a safe word is, but I need you to understand, first and foremost, that there is no shame in using it. At any time. For whatever reason. Say yellow, and we will slow down and talk things through. Say red, and we’ll stop immediately. No judgments, just snacks, and cuddling, and watching whatever you want to relax. Alright?”
“I don’t get to pick a fun word?” I tease.
“Maybe next time.” She goes back to massaging my balls, and I wonder if she finds it calming. “This time, I want us to be as clear and simple as possible.”
“What exactly do you have in that bag of tricks?”
“I was getting there–”
“Taking the scenic route, apparently.” I prop myself up on my elbows and watch her eyes darken.
She flips open the towel and reveals her implements. The glass butt plug speaks for itself, even if I’ve never seen one quite so cute. The toy is probably about five inches and gradually thickens from the narrow head to a base that will stretch perfectly without being intimidating. The base flares into a blue heart that functions as a handle for her slender fingers, and the entire length is studded in a rainbow of ridges and texture.
Sierra opens the ice bucket and plunges the glass dildo inside. Lifting out a single cube of ice, she traces it slowly up my inner thigh, from my knee nearly to my crotch before lifting it to her tongue.
“Have you ever done any sort of temperature play?”
“No, but if it’s more of this, sign me up,” I answer, already craving the icy shock along my skin. After all, I’ve withstood enough cryotherapy and ice baths in my career to handle a few pieces of ice.
Sierra leans over me to collect one of the small candles from the warmer on the nightstand. The shape is strange, almost like a tiny ceramic tea pot, with a handle just large enough for Sierra to hook with one finger. Raising the candle high above her other forearm, she drizzles a small amount up the underside of her wrist.
“You liked the ice. Do you want to try the wax?”
I shiver and nod. “How bad does it hurt? I mean, yes, but I want to be prepared.”
“It depends on the distance of the pour, but it will burn no matter what,” she says. Demonstrating, she raises the candle in front of her face and drips wax the long way down to her other forearm and slowly closes the distance. “The closer I get to the skin, the more it will hurt. I can start high, and you can either tell me to stop, tell me that’s enough, or ask for more.”
She sets the candle back on the warmer and reaches for a container of lube. I doubt that needs any explanation, but she hands me the small bottle anyway.
“It’s a warming lube. Do you have any allergies?” she asks, and I take the hint to read the ingredients. I’ve never had sensitive skin, and I don’t see anything that looks like a red flag, so I hand the bottle back. Sierra squirts a small amount onto her fingers. “I’m going to do a skin test just in case.” She rubs it into a quarter-sized circle on my forearm. She wipes her fingers clean on a small towel and holds up the last item, a wand vibrator. “Are you alright with things that vibrate?”
“Now that, I can actually say I have done, and enjoyed, before.” I sit up and reach for her hands. “What about you? Do you have a safe word, too?”
As usual, her expression is as complex as it is readable. Impressed surprise and appreciation widen her eyes and warm her cheeks.
“Same words for me. Yellow and red.” She squeezes my fingers and steals a kiss that I gladly return. “Ready? On your stomach.”
I roll over and make myself comfortable. Before I can be disappointed that I can’t see her, she straddles my hips and rakes her fingers down my spine. The first drip of wax makes me suck in my breath, but it’s less from pain than from shock. She drizzles the hot wax over my shoulder blades, bringing the candle slightly closer as if she’s painting me with searing wings. I’m getting close to using the word ‘yellow’ when she changes her tactic and runs a zigzagging line of wax down my spine.
The burning sensation never goes away, but with each drop there is more pleasure and less pain. Time inflates like a bubble around us, and I begin to float. My thoughts grow hazy. They buzz inside my skull like a swarm of bees lulled into submission within a smoky hive. In this space, there are no decisions to be made, no doubts about Sierra, no guilt about being a bad son, no worries about the play-offs or the rest of my career.
“How are you doing?” Sierra whispers in my ear. Her hands are planted on my shoulders, and her breasts brush against the wax on my back.
“Relaxed. Warm–”
“Too warm?” Her voice stays low while she clings to my back, but the concern pierces through my haze.
“Not the wax,” I say. “I feel warm inside. Like the heat is in my blood.”
She kisses my cheek. “Ready to keep going?”
“I don’t ever want to stop.”
She coasts her palms up my arms from shoulder to wrist and pushes herself back into a sitting position. Lukewarm liquid splatters my back and warms beneath the glide of Sierra’s palms. It’s a strange massage; wax peels away as she works. Instead of making me feel like a bruised peach, each stroke makes me melt deeper into the mattress.
Too soon, she rises from her seat on my ass. I almost call out, irrationally worried that I’m going to float away without her to anchor me. But the mattress squeaks as she kneels between my legs, and the caress of her mouth against the inside of my thigh is unmistakable, even with the frigid bite of the ice lodged between her lips. Moving from one leg to the other, she works her way up.
Her spit and the warmth of her mouth changes the sensation of ice against my balls from something that would have been unbearable, to something that makes me moan and buck my hips into the sheets. I rub my dick against expensive linens, in search of any friction and finding none. Sierra slides the melting cube to my perineum, torturing that sensitive skin that always makes me feral with need.
“Mmm, Sierra–”
I sink my teeth into the pillow and curl in on myself when the shock of cold spreads between my cheeks and drips down my ass. I hump the bed and moan without a shred of self-control, and the ice cube doesn’t last long.
She doesn’t give me a moment to breathe between the sting of ice and the press of her finger. Gloved and coated in that same warming lube, her finger slides into me with minimal resistance. Filling, stroking, stretching me open. Exploring, rubbing, curling inside of me until my muffled cries of ecstasy let her know she’s found my p-spot. She teases relentlessly while heat pools at the base of my spine, and my stomach tenses from the effort not to come.
“Fuck, mami, yes.” Precum soaks into the sheets and coats my twitching dick, and I forget how to form multisyllabic words. “Please—”
“Please what?” Her voice is saccharine and dripping innocence, while a third slick finger makes me gasp.