You Can Lead a Horse…
Triumph –
As soon as they were behind the closed door, he had her pressed against it. His hands made short work of the loose updo of her hair, then fisted the roots.
“Do you have a safe word?”
“No.”
“At the clubs, it’s the traffic light symbols.
‘Green’ is go, ‘yellow’ is slow down, ‘red’ is stop.
I will always honor them. But it’s also important to know that between us here tonight?
I will also respond to the word ‘stop.’ At the club, I normally wouldn’t because it would be a scene, and ‘stop’ doesn’t exist, only safe words.
When you’re ready, we’ll deal with that. ”
Stepping back from her body, he took her by the hand and led her to the guest room. Once they were over the threshold, he closed the door, locked it, and brought her to the side of the bed.
His fingers trailed up her bare arms, over the cold-shoulder sleeves, and across the back of the dress until they found the zipper.
With a gentle, firm pull, he lowered it until it would go no further, then traced her spine with his fingertips, bottom to top, until they were level with the top of the dress.
Inch by inch, he dragged the material over her breasts, her arms, her torso, her hips, and let it fall at her feet, until she stood before him in just a pair of silk thong underwear, the palest shade of pink.
Raising the back of one hand to her face, he stroked up and down lightly over her cheek.
The Utah memory returned, but from later in the trip. The first time he saw a horse up close.
It wanted attention, wanted the apple he held out, but it had been whipped by its previous owner and was nervous.
He’d simply stood, silent, his hand out with the apple on his flattened fingers, waiting out the horse.
It had taken almost an hour of the horse leaning forward, taking half steps toward Triumph, and sometimes taking a step or two backward.
Triumph never wavered. He stood. Waited. Waited some more. He continued to wait. And after more than ninety minutes, the horse was finally close enough to softly take the apple from his hand.
Even when the horse was chewing the treat, he stayed still, waiting, with his hand outstretched.
The horse watched him, its dark eyes considering him through stray hairs of its dark forelock, until, less than ten minutes later, it stood forehead to forehead with him as Triumph slowly and lightly dragged the back of his hand up and down the mare’s soft nose.
Glennon was not a horse. But she did have long legs and powerful thighs. She had the dark hair with the blond tips and beautiful dark eyes. And her skin was the softest he’d ever touched.
Like that horse, she was nervous. She’d known pain. She’d known cruelty. And now she knew Triumph. She wanted his love. So no matter how long it took, he’d work for it. And even once she trusted him enough to take it, he’d hold true until she understood just what it meant to be loved by him.
With that single touch to her skin, heat exploded inside him, and a wave of arousal sped through his system.
Electricity sizzled along his veins to press against the barrier of his skin.
Waves of energy pulsed, threatening to find any weakness so they might escape his body, then ooze out of the cracks and fill the air around them.
Over and over, he threaded his fingers through her hair, dropping kiss after kiss across her face, neck, shoulders, and upper chest. Between his caresses and kisses, he told her what she needed to hear.
“Nothing happens without your consent.”
“You give it, or I don’t take it.”
“You set the rules, and I play within them.”
“If you need to use your safe word, use it.”
“If something’s too much.”
“If something hurts.”
“If something scares you.”
“Anything at all feels wrong, use it.”
“I don’t care if I’m still clothed, ready to push inside you, or mid-act.”
“You tell me.”
She wriggled, her hips arching into him, and a soft sound of distress came from her.
All movement and kisses stopped. His eyes held hers. “Promise me.”
“I promise. Please, Triumph.”
“Mason,” he corrected her. “I don’t care what you call me otherwise, but in bed, I want my name.”
Lips to hers, his name came out with an exhale that was pleading and desperate.
He took advantage of the opening, sliding his tongue inside to stroke alongside hers.
Warmth. Controlled, confident strokes. Nips meant to sting while heightening her awareness, and suckles meant to soothe while bringing her back to earth.
It was as if his tongue was mating with hers, showing her what bliss he could bring her.
Finally needing air for himself, he pulled back from her mouth and her hands. Seeing a look of confusion on her face at the separation, he told her, “Get on the bed. Make sure you’re comfortable, then reach up and grab the spindles. I’ll be right back, and I want you to be ready for me.”
Backing up three steps, he watched her slide onto the bed. Assured she would do as told, he turned and walked into the bathroom.
In the top vanity drawer, as he suspected, was a brand-new box of condoms. He opened it, took several from the box, and headed back into the bedroom.
She hadn’t moved, although he could see that she was shaking slightly. She wanted to move, but she was trying to stay in place because he’d told her to.
Because she trusted him.
Fuck, that hit him hard. So hard, he rubbed the spot on his chest above his heart where, inside, there was a pang so strong, it was almost painful.
Almost.
Looking down at her from the side of the bed, he tossed all but one of the condom packets on the nightstand.
With his other hand, he drew a line with the tip of his finger from the inside of her elbow down to her shoulder, to the tip of one breast and its puckered nipple, around the globe to its underside, then feathered lightly down her ribs to the dip at her waist, and finally to her rounded hip.
He marveled at the fact that she was naked in front of him.
“Goddamn, you look even more beautiful than I imagined you would.”
Devouring her with his eyes, he slipped free of his leather vest, revealing a script tattoo over his right pectoral muscle.
While toeing off his boots, he unbuckled his belt, loosening it just enough so that when he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, he could slide everything down his legs to the floor.
He stepped out of the material and stripped off his socks, adding to the growing pile on the floor.
He knelt on the sheets next to her, then slowly positioned himself on top of her, wedging himself between her legs, one hand freeing itself to wrap around her thigh.
He drew it tight around his hip but placed her foot flat to the mattress.
“Keep your foot right here, okay?” Then he did the same with her other leg. “Same thing here. Good girl.”
Then he simply stopped. He lay cradled between her thighs.
Asking wasn’t his way, but for her, until they were where she needed to be, he would do his best. Especially this first time. “What are your colors, little spy?”
“Green for go, yellow for slow down, red for stop.”
“And if you get jumbled up and can’t remember?”
“Stop.”
“That’s right,” he praised. “I will stop if you tell me to.”
Reaching up to where her hands gripped the spindles, he curled his fingers over hers. His mouth hovered above hers, a few locks of his hair hanging forward to brush her forehead. His hard cock pressed between them, throbbing at being so close to the warm heat it wanted to bury itself within.
Again, he waited. Held her gaze. Stayed still. When the wideness of her eyes settled, and her pupils expanded, he let go of her hands and dragged his down her arms until they covered her breasts.
She still shook with gentle tremors, but by the tiny rings of her irises and the wetness leaking from her core, he knew it was anticipation and desire, not fear.
“That’s it, Glennon. You’re with me. Remember, at any time, you tell me to stop, I stop.
Even if I’m on the verge of coming. And you know you can trust me to keep you safe in all ways.
That means everything, little spy. From condoms, to making sure you eat and sleep, to protecting you from anyone who wants to harm you. ”
“I trust you.”
“Good.”
He knelt between her legs, proud of her when she didn’t move from where he’d planted them. Quickly, he ripped open the condom package, slipped it out, threw the empty packet back onto the nightstand, then smoothed the latex over his shaft.
From above, the shiny skin at the apex of her thighs told him she was already slick for him, but he wanted to be sure of that. He slid two fingers inside her channel and found her more than wet enough to take him.
Without waiting, he notched himself at her opening, gave her one last stare-down to make sure she was ready, then thrust inside her all the way until their skin met at his base.
Sliding in from tip to base was the most pleasurable moment of contact for him.
No warning. Just one quick, hard thrust. This time, though, he tempered the thrust slightly.
Explaining how her stitches ruptured wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have with anyone, although at this stage, there was probably little fear of that.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, his eyes drifting shut for a moment. At the sound of her moan, he opened them to find her back arched even further, eyes closed.
When her eyes opened, he didn’t hesitate to pull out and slide right back in. “I’ve got you, little spy. Your only job right now is to feel what I’m giving you and let me know if something isn’t right. Just those two things.”