Scrupulous (An Affliction of Falling Novel Book 1) (23 page)

Commitment isn’t a phobia I have, even though many accuse me of it. It’s something I have always held in high regard, a standard in which I haven’t been ready to uphold yet. Having seen life so ridiculously stripped away from many undeserving people in med school, a logical vow was made then and there. This little lady swore to save commitment for a later time when she could better understand the need for it and until then, she would fill her days with only things that brought light, passion, and happiness into her world. Shackling myself to one individual in hopes of a lifetime of love and happiness seemed illogical and futile.

Having never been the little girl who dreamed of white dresses and forever love, I related more to the science of life and how things worked. Love at first sight didn’t scientifically make sense. There is no formula or mathematical equation that can be identified to yield the same desired results over and over or explain its compounding factors. Nor did the probability of lifelong happiness with one person, which is a damned impossibility in my mind when looking at the divorce rates and failed relationships that fuel most movies, songs, and books.

That being said, I have always left a portion of my heart open to the idea that on a rare instance outside of probability, should I meet someone that complimented me enough to share a compatible lifestyle with, I would consider it. Formulas don’t always apply, I know that. Until then, art and wild sex would be my mainstay to bring the balance I needed to my over-analytical brain.

Photography seems to be the only thing aside from sex that shuts off my brain long enough for me to get lost in the wonder life holds. In a way, perhaps examining the world on the other side of my lens is just an extension of my already methodical nonsense. Even if, in those moments of watching the world, my heart seems to take the lead in a way it never has before. A way many exclaim love does for them.

I respect that about my parents, their never-ending love. Sure, they can brawl with the best of them but even in their darkest times, my mother will always kiss my father good night and he in turn will always tell her how beautiful she looks every morning, all in complete sincerity. They love each other beyond measure, beyond the twists, turns, and caveats of life. It is their relationship that I hold as the gold standard of commitment; it is why I have the upmost respect of the ideal they uphold and also why I have avoided even tempting the waters. The odds of me finding a match on that level to last a lifetime have always seemed improbable and would certainly detract from my current selfish behaviors.

Why on earth would I want to lure a man into a false sense of security by stating my supposed undying love when in reality, my mentality has been a far cry from ready for such a thing? Understanding yourself on such a level and being that honest can be quite freeing. Most men are predictable, childish at the root, and quickly bore me; I have yet to meet one that dared to consistently challenge, excite, and intrigue me… until that night that has led to now.

“While I tend to enjoy the sting of your tongue, I am going to ask you to do me a favor and try to keep your mouth shut and leave the rest of your body open to sensations. Do you think that you can do that?”

“Is that supposed to be a rhetorical question? Because making a request of silence prior to asking a question that requires a verbal response certainly seems that way,” I smart before I can think twice.

“A simple nod of the head would have sufficed,” he barks before approaching from behind and palming through my loose locks.

The lovely sensation of his hand running through my hair is cut short as his grasp tightens and my head is eased backwards to a point where it is uncomfortable but not intolerable and nowhere near painful. A hiss escapes my lips as I register the sensation’s effects. A rough hand traverses the curves of my ass in a hurry to get a fill before drawing back, the absence weighting my chest down in disappointment.

Gavin doesn’t keep me waiting long before his hand meets my flesh once more with a perfect ‘smack,’ the sting delivered with precision. Slight pain spreads over my hide, giving way to a delicious heat. Rolling it over in my mind like a fine wine over a pallet, I can’t decide which portion excites my loins more─ the pain, heat, or the psychological factor of this transaction.

“I see that mind of yours is still waging war with your pleasure, little one.”

“Little one? I am far from that.”

Another swat is delivered upon my flesh in response. This time it stings more than the others, but I find an immense amount of pleasure in that as I moan.

“Remember, my little pain slut, orgasm denial will be in the cards if you can’t behave.”

My mouth does a guppy movement as I open and close it in an attempt to suppress the urge to verbally reply. I don’t put it past him to comply with his threat.

“Good, my love.” His hand traces the dip of my lower back and I feel him shudder as I goose bump under the contact. He leaves momentarily before returning to my side and running a soft, foreign object down my spine. “Remember this? You seemed to be quite taken by it at the hands of another.” His British accent is in full effect. In fact, it had been since I walked through the door. The only time I hear him speak like an American is out in public. When we are alone, he is fully himself.

I almost fall for his question but catch my tongue. The leather end comes to a halt on my right cheek before quickly being pulled back and brought down with a fierce snap that actually sounded worse than it felt. It felt
really
good. Suddenly, I am back at the dungeon, reliving my fantasies with Gavin finally at the helm and not Devon.

“Fuck me; you do like that, don’t you?” His hand dips between my legs and traces my lips that are now slick with excitement. “Did you get this wet for Devon?” Gavin’s question is edged but his curiosity has something else to it. “You may answer.”

“The first time or second time?” I breathe, dizzy from the exhilaration the crop provided.

“You were with him more than once?” He grinds out but tries to hold back, not wanting to sound the way he was.

“Can I still answer without losing my orgasm?” I squeak.

“Of course, pet.” Gavin’s loving tone is back as he hovers behind me.

“He used the crop twice that night; the first time I liked it. But I didn’t get this… excited until you were watching and I was picturing you doing it.” My cheeks must have matched my sore ass, pink as a rose.

“You really are mine.” He runs his hand through my hair and pulls back enough to quickly kiss me. “I am sorry for doubting you, for being jealous. Let me make it up to you, baby.” He gazes amorously into my eyes before releasing me.

Gavin is on me once more with the crop, lightly caressing the skin of my ass with little bites from the leather. “Your ass pinks with perfection, my mark sitting so pretty. Never

have I seen a more perfect ass, Sorcha.”

His hand warmly soothes the skin before the crop picks back up in its rhythmic cadence. The leather tip begins to pick up depth as it is brought down harder, never in the same place twice in a row. He rotates cheeks, aiming high then low, giving me a chance to adjust and take in what is being given. Before long, my mind begins to numb and loud moans, I am not quite sure whose, fill the air in pleasure. All I can hear is the sound of the crop, his heavy breathing, and the sounds of a strange woman’s pleasure echoing off the walls. Floating higher and higher, my mind quiets and I soar. Mind separated from body, I happily relish in the joy of it.

Tears slip silently down my cheeks as I journey into this gift. Gavin has used my favorite pastime to shut the incessant ramblings of my mind off, leaving me open to pure pleasure on a level I never thought possible. Here, under his hand, by giving up my control to him I am in turn freed, if even for just a moment.  Reveling in the dreamy high, time slips away and loses all meaning.

After who knows how long, I find that I begin to descend and settle back into my body. Fluttering my eyes open, I almost jump when I realize that we are back in Gavin’s bed and he is spooning me.

“What the hell? How did I get back here?” I push against the soft sheets, panicked by the loss of time, loss of control.

“Easy, love. You have been in subspace. Once I was sure you were good and there, I brought you back here to tend to you.” He pecks my cheek.

“How long have I been out of it?” So that’s what that was.

“An hour or so. It took a good amount of effort to get you there. You gave me a good run, pet. You really do like that crop,” he chuckles in satisfaction. His hand slides up my hip and down to my pussy with ease. “Jesus Christ, you are still so wet,” he growls as he slips in from behind. “Fuuuuck, yes!” he fingers my clit as he pumps his hips.

I grab the headboard and hold on as pleasure overtakes my boneless body in a rapid onset. It doesn’t take long before one more flick of his finger sends me over the edge. “Gavin. I love you so fucking much!” Waves of unadulterated satisfaction crash through me and it is not long before he comes, joining me in the bliss. We fall asleep like that, he inside of me, both spent. As I drift off, the need to once more question his choice of keeping his harem of pain sluts surfaces but quickly subsides in the wake of exhaustion.

Chapter 14

Gavin

With my woman sitting at the island counter in my kitchen, a goofy grin plasters itself on my face as I make her a proper breakfast in nothing but a pair of silk boxers. The scent of coffee and cinnamon waft around as the pot brews and I flip a pancake on the griddle. I’ve never cooked for someone I am currently seeing, and it goes to prove how head over heels I am.

“Are you sure I can’t help?” she offers again only to receive a glower in return.

“My girlfriend will sit there and watch or I will be forced to introduce her to a kitchen-worthy punishment,” I reply over my shoulder before resuming the task at hand. Images of her trembling while kneeling on the cement with her hands cuffed behind her back make me instantly hard.

“So… we do this thing outside of the bedroom too?” she innocently asks and receives a booming laugh in return. Lord help me, my little tiger looks too cute for words perched there, biting her thumb in my old Cure T-shirt.

“This is me. This is how I know how to love. I can pretend outside in the real world but in the privacy of my own home, the walls come down.” Had they ever─ my purposeful American front all but fades away in her presence.

“So… this power exchange thing is going to take some getting used to then,” she mumbles while shifting awkwardly on the stool and wrapping her hands around the mug.

That ass of hers was quite tender to the touch, a fact that had my pulse thrumming; her cries of pain induced pleasure from last night echoing in my ears. Taking down some pain reliever tabs from the cabinet, I set them down next to her cup.

“We will find our balance, love. I know that this can’t be full time for you. That wouldn’t work well for me or my needs either.”

“Speaking of, why do you cover up your accent with an American one outside of here?” She quizzes while popping the lid on the vial; her obedience for self-care pleasing me.

And there it is, she misses nothing and it is only a matter of time before she confronts the issue. “I’ve lived here half of my life, half across the pond. I’m a bit of both by now. In the line of work that I do, it is easier to assimilate into where I am. Plus, having an accent of any sort stands out in America. I need to be able to blend in. You are one to talk.”

“Please, I grew up here. The Irish in me comes out when it chooses; I can hide it sometimes but can’t flip the switch as professionally as you. It’s easy to understand the desire of anonymity; but it sounds like you don’t want to have anything going for you that others can easily remember you by, like an identifying mark and such. In all honesty, look at you. You are not the type someone is going to forget easily.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I raise a brow and feel the edges of my lips curl up.

“Well, muscle man, it’s not like you are small and compact.” She jumps down and comes around the counter towards me. “And you are hot as hell. That is not something people will forget either.” Sorcha’s hand dips below the band of my boxers and wraps around my saluting cock while her other hand flips the burner off under the griddle. The electrifying contact has me bracing on the marble countertop.

“Sir, I’ve been a bad girl. I think my punishment should include some prompt cock worship if that’s okay with you.” Her brilliant green eyes wickedly entice me and the thought of her plump lips sliding down my shaft as I fuck that perfect mouth makes me want to come on the spot.

“I thought you didn’t do that kind of thing. It was a hard limit,” I breathe as I try to contain my eagerness. She drops to her knees before me, taking my shorts with her and stares up at me through her lashes.

“Sir, I want to taste you. Will you teach me?” Her tone and presentation is perfectly submissive and about makes my heart freeze in sheer joy.

“Get up, my little slut, and go to my bed. Your first time will not be on the hard floor.” She cringes at the term of endearment but promptly flees to the bedroom with me hot on her tail. I inwardly flinch at her reaction and swear to myself that I drop the word from my bedroom vernacular since it seems to bother her so.

Coming up behind her, I rip the T-shirt over her head and push her panties to the floor while kissing and biting her neck. She melts back into me and brings my hands around to her tits. As I roll the sensitive flesh between my thumb and forefinger, she groans before reaching for my erection again.

“Easy, lass.” Breaking contact, I grab a pillow from the bed, sit on the edge, and put the pillow on the ground.

“Kneel.” It came out harsher than I wanted, my prevailing nature roaring to life.

She winces slightly but does as asked. Palming one hand around the base, she fervently begins to lick the tip, which takes me to a painfully needy place.

It takes me a moment to remember myself. “I know you hear no teeth allowed, but I don’t mind a little. So, instead of focusing on keeping your lips in to cover them, focus on your breathing and setting a rhythm. Use your tongue all you want to feel and explore, especially on the underside and around the head,” I groan out the last bit as she eagerly jumps on, sliding the head into her hot, moist, dirty little mouth.

As she swirls her tongue around, I begin to pulse harder in reaction to her silky contact. Gently, she eases a bit more in and hungrily begins to work me deeper and deeper. Sorcha’s face mirrors what now surges inside of me as her hand works the base of my erection and she tests her limits. Pure animalistic need clouds her gaze. Sensing her going too far too fast as my tip hits the back of her throat, I fist her hair and pull her back a bit. She looks up at me with a start, tears of strain glistening in her eyes from having her mouth filled to that level.

“Baby girl, easy. I know you are excited, and I more than appreciate your enthusiasm. But the goal is to make this a better experience.” I lovingly caress her flushed cheek.

She nods, mouth stuffed full, a mask of determination setting in as she analyzes her next plan of attack. I can see the wheels turning. My woman is too damn smart for her own good. Using my grasp on her head to gently guide her, I damn near buckle over as I set a new pace. It is all that I can to do keep myself under control and not power fuck her perfect mouth as she begins to find her rhythm. She reaches up and cups my balls, sending a delicious fire down my thighs as they draw up. Deeper and deeper she takes me, moaning her own pleasure.

“Fuck, Sorcha, you are perfect. Yeah, just like that, my love.” One hand fastens loosely in her hair, my other hand grips down into white knuckles on the edge of the mattress as a way to resist my urge to slam down her throat. Sorcha takes her time working one hand down the base and cups my boys with the other, slowly building pace.

“That’s it baby, perfect. Nice and easy, stay relaxed. Remember to breathe through your nose.” Many trigger their gag reflex by tensing, forgetting to breathe, or trying to cram it down their throats way too fast. If you set the right pace and build up to it, you can surprise yourself.

Her hot breath rushes out over my shaft as if she had forgotten that crucial piece.

Fucking Christ! I want so many things at once it’s ridiculous! I want to let her finish, but I also want to tie her down as well as just flip her over and fuck her. The pressure continues to build and before long, her perfect little mouth has by balls drawing up tight.

“Easy baby, as much as I want to be down the back of your throat, let’s take it slow. I’m so close.”

“Hmmmmm.” she massages my balls and groans, the vibration and sensation tipping me over.

In one last downward motion, she eases my full length down the back of her throat, her breathing nice and steady. The slow, seamless motion kicks me over the edge, forcing my seed to burst forward. She swallows me whole and gently sucks a few more times as my body shakes out the last of my release. It takes me a few breaths of my own before I can release her head and come down. Once free, she slowly eases me out and sits back on her heels with a satisfied grin, licking her lips. Never have I come so fast, the entire experience breaking my self-control.

“Hmmm, you’re still hard. Did I not do it right?” Her sudden concern over pleasing me makes my chest swell and feeds my dominance in a deep-seeded way.

The realization of what has transpired hits me like a heavyweight champion. The woman I love sitting there, eager to please me, happily willing to push her own limits to be more of what I need even though I never asked it of her because her overall happiness means more mixes with my overwhelming desire to give her everything I possibly can. To give her all of me.

“Sorcha Quinn, you did everything right. You have been doing everything absolutely right. I am one lucky bastard. Come here.” Pulling her from the floor, I lay her out on the bed before covering her body with my own. “No one can ever compare to you. I don’t want anyone else. I let all my clients know that they will need to seek another arrangement.”

“You did? When did you have time to do that? We’ve been pretty busy.” Disbelief and worry etch across her face.

“I did it a couple of days ago.”

“Really? Before we even talked about me attempting submission?” She looks sheepishly away.

“Whether you were ever able to attempt it or not, it didn’t matter. I’ve been willing to try to be as vanilla as you needed if that is what it came down to. I knew we’d find a middle ground that works for both of us. As long as we

are together, the rest will work itself out.”

“We are fully exclusive then?” Her eyes look like they might bug out of her head.

“If that’s what you want, I’m game.”

“I do! I do!” She yanks my head down into a deep kiss that quickly turns the tide.

Sorcha

Heading into my art studio on cloud nine, all of my troubles seem far away. No more nightmares of Gavin touching others in his sacred way tormented me. No more self-destructive ill thoughts that I’m not enough for him. Over the last week, since we attempted our first go at a power exchange, we have fallen into a beautiful, harmonious place. We haven’t butted heads, communication has been great, and the sex, if even possible, has gotten better. Perhaps heightened intimacy is the cause, or finding a new stride in submission has been more fulfilling. I now know myself in more ways than I thought possible.

In retrospect, part of me thinks on a small level that my preference for sex with strangers filled a level of kink I didn’t know I had. That and it had been easier, cleaner to deal with while trying to figure out my own life and what I wanted. I would have hated to drag someone into a relationship while I was still finding myself through school. What a tough time that had been. Pursing a degree and training in what I thought I wanted only to find out that my elective classes in photography had been my real passion. Hour upon hours of studying and pulling long shifts at the hospital only to find that I had no drive to lead that life. To become what my father had wanted me to be. And here I now stand, framing the last two pieces for my exhibit coming up in a few days. Pride and happiness burst in my chest as I reflect on all that I had been through to get to this very moment.

Reaching for my staple gun, I glance up at the crowning jewel of my event. It will blow the socks off my friends. Giggling in excitement to myself, I turn my attention back to the canvas my hands are attempting to stretch when my cell goes off.

While trying to balance the impeccable hold I have on the canvas while reaching for my phone, I answer without looking at the screen.

“This is Sorcha.”

“Sor, it’s Samuel. We gotta work, baby. Did you forget?”

“What do you mean? It’s only Wednesday. I’m in the studio wrapping up a few pieces for Sunday.”

“Ah, Sor! It’s Thursday.”

Issuing a slew of curse words, I can picture Samuel holding the phone away from his ear. My sailor tongue has improved since dating Gavin but let’s be honest, some things will never change. I can’t believe I had my days all turned around!

“I will cover for you as best I can, but it’s a little over a week before Christmas and you know how Daz gets this time of year.”

“Fuck, I’m so fucked. He is going to tear me a new one.”

“If you don’t get your ass here, you’ll be lucky if that’s all he does.”

“Samuel, I am at the studio and not even near being dressed to work!”

“Please, you could dress yourself out of that bag you tote around. Get here fast.”

“Roger that.” Hanging up the phone, I throw all of my supplies back in my cabinet, lock my pieces up in my storage and pull the canvas cover down.

Leave it up to Daz to piss all over my cornflakes. It was shaping up to be an awesome night down here and now I have to pull a miracle out of my oversized bag. After hailing down a taxi, I dump my bag and start digging out makeup. I hardly wore the shit on my days off so this is as good as having to start off from scratch. Red lipstick and eye shadow─ score. Thank the lord for having amazing drag queen friends who teach you how to repurpose makeup. Mixing a few things together, I manage blush. Ripping a comb through my mess, I settle for pinning it back into a messy bun. My heart picks up speed when I see we are just a few blocks away. Clothes, clothes… ugh! I’m in jeans, canvas boat shoes and a button down. Unbuttoning my top until maximum cleavage shows, rolling up my sleeves and tying the front into a midriff, I sigh. It’s not like anyone will see my shoes behind the bar.
Damn, we are already here!