To Say I Love You (17 page)

“I just wanted to do something nice for you. I know I’ll never be able to repay you for all this—the whole moving thing—so….”

“It’s not something you need to thank me for. I’m really not keeping tabs, Jesse.” He ran his hand over my wet back.

“I appreciate it anyway.”

We changed into pajama pants and T-shirts, then crashed on the couch in front of the TV, each with a bowl of cake and ice cream. My blood sugar would be through the roof by morning.

I plonked my feet in Will’s lap and gave him a hopeful look. After sighing and changing the channel, he obliged and pushed his thumbs into the arch of my foot. There was no point in holding back that deep moan of satisfaction—I’d been on my feet all day and they were sore.

There were very few shows we followed religiously; I preferred documentaries or the news, and Will had recently developed an obsession with the Discovery Channel and the new stuff they were putting out. Continuing that routine here felt good… right.

The foot massage was distracting, not that I was complaining, and I barely paid attention to the TV as he worked all the sore spots out for me.

“Thanks,” I murmured as he resumed a far more gentle stroking instead.

Will kissed my big toe. “I’ve got an idea for a session,” he said. “It’s something we haven’t done before.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Are you up for it?”

“Are you going to tell me what it is?”

“No,” he said with a smile.

I shrugged. “I trust you.”

“Really? You don’t want to ask me anything?”

“Is it in my red zone?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Then it’s fine.”

“Okay. I need to pick up some things before we do it.”

I was curious but just nodded instead of pressing further. I did trust him, absolutely, so I’d let him do his thing and go with the flow. Plus, the anticipation of having a scene together soon was nice.

He shifted on the sofa and crawled up my body, kissing various spots on the way, finishing with a few quick kisses on my lips.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

He nuzzled against my neck, then came back for a long, slow, easy kiss.

Making out on the sofa like this was silly and fun, and almost unexpected after the amount of time we’d been together. I raked my fingers through his hair, enjoying the silky softness on the top compared to the short, almost rough feeling on the sides. He was clean-shaven today, so there weren’t any rough whiskers to contend with, either, and I licked the corner of his mouth, liking the smoothness.

Will pulled away first and kissed my nose.

“I think I’m going to go read for a while.”

“Yeah? Are you sure that’s not code for escaping to our room and working?” I’d caught him doing that before.

“No,” he said with a laugh. “I’m done for the day, I promise.”

“Okay.”

We both needed alone time every now and then. I didn’t begrudge him that. Plus,
Pawn Stars
was about to start, and Will hated that show. I thought it was brilliant.

He wandered off to the bedroom, and I turned the volume up, settling back to watch a couple of hours of mindless TV in my underwear.

I thought he would be asleep by the time I got to bed, but there was a light on under the door. For some reason, I almost knocked. He was reading from his Kindle, naked from the waist up, and from the waist down too, I guessed, by what he was getting up to.

“Sorry,” I said, smirking at him. “Didn’t realize you were busy.”

Will laughed, a little breathlessly, then cleared his throat.

“Do you want a hand?” I offered.

“Nah. I’ve got this covered.”

I watched as his hand moved under the sheet and smirked again. “All right. I’ll leave you in peace.”

“Thanks.”

I’d planned on taking a shower in the morning, but since my bed was occupied, it made sense to do it before I went to sleep instead. I was amused and a little aroused that Will was jerking off, not that I had any problem with him doing it.

For a moment I considered doing it too. I was saving myself for the session he’d promised, though, and even when my dick perked up at the idea of some action, I calmed him down with a burst of cold water. Waiting made it better.

By the time I’d showered and brushed my teeth and crossed back into the bedroom, Will was curled up on his side with a grin on his face. I quickly found clean underwear and crawled in behind him, leaned over and turned off the lamp on the night stand, then curled around him from behind.

“Better?” I asked.

“Yeah. Much, thanks.”

I tickled him and appreciated the wriggle back against my groin that I got in return.

“What were you reading?”

“Just a book I downloaded. It’s good. You can borrow it when I’m done, if you like.”

“Mm. Maybe. What’s it about?”

“I’m not giving you spoilers. Read it yourself.”

Because I could, I bit his shoulder. Only gently. “Okay. I will.”

“Did you jerk off in the shower?”

“No,” I said on a laugh. “I decided to save myself. I thought about it, though.”

“I can probably get the stuff I need tomorrow,” he said around a wide yawn. “We can do it tomorrow night if you like.”

“Okay. Sounds good.” I kissed him again. “’Night, Will. Happy birthday.”

“’Night, baby.”

M
Y
FIRST
thought was that the sheets still smelled like him. This was where playing and living in the same space was difficult—trying to disassociate my Master from my lover was so much harder when I could smell him.

Since he wasn’t in the room yet, I quickly pulled one of the blankets up over the bed, covering the sheets, and knelt on that.

In the time we’d been together, our tastes had certainly changed, especially with our D/s relationship. There was no way back in the early days I’d have agreed to play in public, even if he’d asked it of me, and the whole idea of chastity freaked me out at first. It was the same with some of my positions; although my standard “display” pose was the same, we’d added a few more to the mix. This was one of my favorites, an adopted yoga pose which had me first kneeling, then stretching my arms out in front of me and spreading my knees a little. Naked, it was incredibly exposing, and the perfect thing to settle me into a headspace.

When he came into the room, he ran his hand over my flank and slapped my ass lightly. It was an affectionate gesture, telling me he was happy with my position. I took a deep breath and tried to relax.

The other thing about this pose in particular was it made all the muscles in my ass and thighs incredibly tense. That meant that if he decided to hit me across the ass, there was nothing to absorb the shock—it all went straight into the muscle. Which hurt. A lot.

“Up,” he said, and I rose onto my hands so I was in an all-fours position. Like this, it was easier for him to fix my collar around my neck. When he was done, he patted my head and I sank down again.

Master came around to the end of the bed and stroked my hole a few times with his bare fingertip. He could do this—push a finger inside me dry—and it didn’t hurt. It could be uncomfortable, but not painful. It was also strangely erotic, the dry friction giving a different sort of pleasure than what it felt like with lube.

For a few minutes, he played with my ass dry, tickling and teasing and gently coaxing me to relax. Then I felt a cool, smooth something press against my hole, and I thought it was a plug he must have put in the fridge for a while.

No. It wasn’t as big as any of the plugs we had, only a few inches long and not that wide. It was only when he wriggled the part that was sticking out of me that I realized what it was.

Ginger.

Fuck.

I’d heard about this before, read it on some of the BDSM message boards I went on from time to time. It was one of those old, sadistic Victorian things—sticking a piece of raw ginger up someone’s ass so they couldn’t clench when spanked.

It felt smooth, like he’d spent a long time carving it into the perfect shape, and that nice, cool feeling was starting to wear off.

“How’s that doing for you there, Jesse?” he asked, a tiny touch of humor in his voice.

“Fine, sir,” I said through gritted teeth.

It wasn’t unbearable pain, more like a discomfort I wanted to wriggle away from. Every time I clenched my ass (an experiment, the first time) it sent off another wave of whatever it was. There was no denying it, this was an aching sort of spice burn.

When I arched my back, trying to ease some of the soreness, his hand came down sharply on the fleshy part of my ass. That made me yelp, and him chuckle, the sadist. From then on, every time I moved even a little bit, he hit me, either with his hand or the long bamboo cane we’d bought from the hardware store. The rest of them were currently stuck in my garden.

If Master thought I looked too comfortable, he twisted the ginger root, sometimes pushing a little more inside me, which made me gasp and groan. It was definitely psychological torture as well as physical: the only thing that could even ease the burn a little bit was moving, which caused a thwack with something, which I quite liked.

After about fifteen minutes or so, I thought I was actually getting used to it and managed to still my movements. As I forced myself to take stock of my body, I decided the effects of the ginger were wearing off and it was nearly over. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

Master hit me with the cane a few more times for good measure, I was sure, and I opened my eyes to see my cock was rock-hard and leaking.

“Good boy,” Master murmured, rubbing his palm over my very red and sore ass.

He moved behind me again and carefully pulled the ginger out, not before rubbing it all over my hole and taint, though. I hissed, and he chuckled again.

“This is just natural yogurt,” he said as something deliciously cool and soft was put on the skin he’d rubbed with the ginger.

It was all I could do to bury my face in the blankets and not come on the spot.

Master blew cool air over my ass. “Tasty,” he mumbled, and my heart thumped hard in my chest.

Then he licked it all off. I was on the edge of screaming with pleasure as he carefully removed all the ginger yogurt from my skin, then buried his tongue in my hole.

He didn’t need to give me permission to come. When he gripped my cock tightly and gave it a few hard tugs, I was spurting everywhere, come splattering on my chest.

I heard him grunt, “Fuck, Jesse,” and guessed he was coming as well. I was wiped out, too exhausted to care he hadn’t let me suck him off.

We sprawled on the bed, almost side by side, his head nearer my stomach than shoulder. I found his hair with my fingertips and ran the silky strands between my thumb and forefinger.

“Can’t move,” I said, my voice hoarse.

“Me, either.”

“If you fucked me now, then I sucked your cock, do you think it would taste like ginger?”

He snorted, then descended into giggles. “My God, Jess. And I thought I was kinky.” He paused for a moment. “Yeah, I reckon it would.”

That made me laugh too, and I leaned down to kiss him, delighted to find a little of the spicy taste on his lips.

“Where the fuck did you get the idea for that?” I asked, rolling over to find a clean, dry part of the sheets.

“I can’t remember now,” he said. He cleaned off my stomach, then laid his head on it, putting him at right angles to me on the bed. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, though.”

“Good session,” I said. “Especially because it was something that didn’t really need a playroom.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He gave me a truly filthy grin. I couldn’t help but laugh. I loved him more than I knew was possible.

A
FTER
THAT
session, I checked the fridge, relieved to discover there wasn’t any ginger left. The spice hadn’t hurt in the way some other things had in the past, but it was an uncomfortable experience I wasn’t excited to repeat anytime soon.

That level of kink certainly inspired us to go further in our sessions, though. I wasn’t afraid of exploring things with him these days, testing out new ideas to see what worked for us. Being creative and doing things differently was all part of the fun.

He was already fucking me hard, his hands pinning my wrists to the bed above my head. It was the sort of thing I loved—blurring the line between what was session sex and what was good-with-my-lover sex.

Will snarled at me, baring his teeth, then bit down on my shoulder.

“Ow! Motherfucker,” I gasped as he continued to rhythmically pound into me.

“Shut up.”

“Fuck you.”

He grunted and thrust hard, holding himself at his deepest point.

“Get the fuck off me,” I demanded.

Will raised an eyebrow. This was new territory. I tested the edges of it and tried to squirm away, pulling at my wrists in an attempt to get him to let go.

“Jesse.” His voice was a low command. “Use your safeword.”

“No,” I snapped.

“Jesse. Safeword.”

“No.” I struggled again. “You can’t make me.”