To Say I Love You (6 page)

When he came back, Will had the tube of lubricant in his hand and an already shiny cock. I pushed any disappointment that I wasn’t going to get to suck it this time out of my head and found my legs spreading unconsciously, without me telling them to do it.

Will was smirking as he settled down next to me, pushing his slick fingers against my hole without preamble, while he cupped my jaw and turned my head to meet his kisses.

“Ready,” I told him breathlessly. “I’m ready.”

I’d been ready for hours. Weeks. It was one thing I’d never felt ashamed of—wanting him was an extension of loving him. Sex was a way of being incredibly close to each other. He didn’t stop kissing me as he moved between my legs and I wrapped them around his waist, opening myself for him.

“Love you, Jess,” he whispered as he pushed inside me, his cock stretching and twisting and hurting just a little bit. I curled my arms around his back, clinging to him, urging him on, lifting my body to meet his.

I couldn’t quite find my voice to tell him I loved him too. He knew that, though, and my lips managed to give him the message with a slow, careful kiss rather than words. He understood.

“Missed you,” he said. His nose traced the path from my collarbone to earlobe. “I missed being with you like this.”

“Me too. Not again.”

“No. I’m keeping you close now.”

And I was. Close, that was. Our chests were pressed close together, making it almost impossible for me to get a hand on my cock. Any pleasure I wanted needed to come from the movement of Will inside me, and fuck, did he know how to make that feel good.

The months apart seemed to melt away as we rocked together, Will instinctively knowing how to turn me on. I tightened my hands around his arms and lifted into his thrusts, taking everything he offered. And I didn’t seem to be able to keep my lips from his. Those kisses were all I needed—that, and him, and the orgasm that threatened as I whimpered into his mouth.

“Give it up, Jess,” he told me, pressing his forehead to mine.

I didn’t need to be told twice. Everything felt overwhelmingly intense, the time we’d spent apart only intensifying the sensations. Coming with him inside me… crying out into the curve of his shoulder, him trembling inside me… not exactly something we hadn’t done before, but it wiped me out.

Him too, if his inelegant crash on top of me was anything to go by. I huffed, laughed, and wrapped my arms more securely around him as he carefully pulled his cock from my ass. Then I licked his ear, because it was gross and I wanted a reaction.

“Y
OU
’
RE
DISGUSTING
,”
Will grouched, poking me in retaliation. I squirmed away and distracted him with kisses until it was safe to settle back in his arms. He sighed heavily, and I reached for a hand towel, quickly wiping us both down.

For a while, we lay together in bed. This was a luxury. At home, we didn’t often have time to be naked and lazy, not when there were chores to do and jobs to worry about.

Will reached for my hand and tangled our fingers together. I squeezed back, letting him know the contact was appreciated, then shuffled to lay my head on his chest.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured softly.

“Yeah.” I sighed deeply, gathering the scent of him into my lungs.

“Is this better? Being in our own place, I mean. If you don’t like it, we can always go back to your dad’s. I don’t mind.”

“It’s good. We can’t do this at dad’s house, and I think we need it.”

“I think so too. I just don’t want to take you away from your family, if that’s where you want to be.” Will ran his hand down my spine. It was still sticky with sweat—for all of Will’s bitching about air-con, I hadn’t turned it on, and it was fairly warm in the house.

“We’re close, here, without living on top of each other. I don’t want to leave yet but we all need some space.”

“There’s no need for us to go anywhere at all.”

I recognized that voice, the half on a yawn that told me he was all fucked out and sleepy. I hadn’t brushed my teeth or locked the front door or turned the lights off in the hall, and I couldn’t find the energy to care. I found the sheets with my feet and kicked them up over our legs, kissed Will’s cheek, and let go.

O
F
COURSE
,
that meant I didn’t sleep very well and was awake in the night to do all of the puttering around I didn’t do before we went to bed. I wasn’t sure if Will ever woke up when I did my late-night wanderings. I would be surprised if it didn’t disturb him; it wasn’t something I did at home.

The rules of everything had changed since we’d gotten on the plane here, I mused while collecting bits of sandpaper from the living room and stacking them neatly in order of roughness. I didn’t have any thick socks or house slippers here, so padding around in the dark, barefoot and wearing boxers, was a fairly risky activity.

I was careful not to let the screen door slam behind me when I walked outside, not wanting to wake or alarm Will. The grass was deliciously cool beneath my feet, even if it was dry and scrubby rather than richly wet. The moon hung huge and low in the sky, meaning that even without any streetlights, I could see all the way to the end of our street.

It was eerily silent at this time in the morning, with not even a restless dog or the chirping of cicadas for company.

The night was one for feeling terribly alone in the world, like there was no one who could understand the sharp edges of my grief, the heavy weight of responsibility toward a younger sister and completely lost father. I didn’t want to be angry at Mama—she’d lived her life on her own terms and left it on the same. It was what all of us would ask for, given the choice.

The thing was, however much I wanted to feel sorry for myself, I couldn’t quite manage it. I couldn’t curl up in a ball and sob and think
poor me, poor, poor me.
Because there was a man inside who was my backbone, straightening me up and keeping me moving when all I wanted to do was crumple. Not everyone found someone in life who balanced them as perfectly as Will balanced me.

Feeling stupid, I went back inside and locked the door behind me. If outside was still, there was life in here. Will was snoring, only softly but loud enough in the quiet house to be heard from the hallway. In the kitchen, I poured two glasses of water, added ice before taking them through to the bedroom.

We didn’t have nightstands yet, so I put his on the floor next to the bed.

When I crawled in next to him, he rolled over and wrapped his body around mine. I didn’t say anything but sighed deeply. It was a relief to be held by him again.

T
HE
HOUSE
started to take shape around us as I took charge of making it a space of our own. It wasn’t the sort of house that needed a lot of fuss. The most ostentatious thing about it was the yellow exterior; inside, things were neat and simple. A deep, comfortable couch and a leather armchair. A plain set of dishes. Enough drawers for our clothes—no point in having a lot of space. We’d never fill it all.

Will’s office, the small room at the front of the house, was set up with a desk and a swivel chair and painted a beautiful, neutral color good for concentrating.

Will finished his day whenever his work was done, all meetings tied up, the last e-mail sent, although his work BlackBerry was likely to go off at all hours of the day and night. He ignored it more than he answered it. I was folding laundry when he stalked into the bedroom and announced himself off duty.

We sort of ran into each other at the end of the bed, and Will caught me as I tried to pass him in the too-small space, pulling me into his arms as I laughed and wriggled.

“Mm,” I said against his shoulder as he held me tight.

“Shh.”

I wasn’t really going anywhere important, and being held like this was reassuring. Familiar. Especially when he held on to my arms, the loving embrace becoming stronger and more powerful. It put me in the sort of headspace I hadn’t been in for a while.

When he let me go, I tipped my head for the best angle to kiss him, just softly, then I sank to my knees in front of him and rested my forehead against his hip.

“Jesse,” he said softly, then stopped.

“You know I’m yours, Sir,” I said. “Always.”

“I’ll only ask you this once—are you sure you’re ready? Because if you’re not, this stops right now and you can take your time to build back up to it again.”

“Respectfully, Sir, I’m ready. I… I’d like you to punish me.”

I sat back on my heels and neatly presented. This position was so natural, so instinctive to me, and helped me settle into a familiar headspace. Like wrapping myself in an old blanket, this was reassuring. Here, I knew my place.

Master ran his fingers through my hair, almost carelessly, then stepped around me and left me kneeling in place while he did something on the other side of the room. I took deep, calming breaths and tried not to be too excited at the prospect of an impromptu session.

“Here,” he commanded, and snapped his fingers.

I turned and crawled, remaining on my hands and knees in front of him until he sat on the edge of the bed, then I returned to my presenting position. We had this down to a dance, almost. He moved—I moved. It was as simple as that.

“Why am I doing this, Jesse?” he asked. “Why should I hurt you?”

“Because… I disobeyed you, Sir.”

“By doing what?”

“When you left, when I was here alone, I masturbated.”

He was silent for a few moments, then he leaned down and caught hold of my chin tightly and tipped my head up so we were eye-to-eye.

“When this is done, we talk. Okay?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Over my lap.”

This was one of his favorite positions to punish me. It wasn’t distant, like bending over a bench or a bed or a table. This was my body laid out over his, and I’d willingly lain down, accepting my fate. I wasn’t bound or gagged or held in place—I had to keep myself there, because that’s what he wanted.

Master had been experimenting with the humiliation factor for a while. I got off on public displays, so that didn’t really work, but there was something about this position that was just damn naughty. In the best possible way.

I was still wearing underwear, but Master hadn’t told me to take them off, and there was no way I was going to do anything except breathe without his permission now. Years of being his sub meant I was well-trained in anticipating his wishes, and I knew how to behave to get what I wanted.

When I was settled, my ass hitched up over his thighs, head resting on my arms on the bed, he let the first smack fly. It landed right on top of my still-clothed ass, and I let out a tiny hum of pleasure. The next two delivered a sting and my skin started to warm.

Even when he tugged my underwear down, he left the tight boxers around my knees. Keeping them on heightened that sense of punishment.

We were both familiar with the way a good, hard spanking went. Master would warm me up first with a spank, rub, squeeze routine that was measured and fairly rhythmical. When I was ready, he’d pick up the pace and mess with the rhythm, so I’d get three stinging smacks to my left ass cheek, then a slower, thudding one to my right that lingered for a while.

His favorite spot to hit was the crease where my cheek met the top of my thigh. I was sensitive there, and he paid special attention to his smacks, making sure I was taken up and up and up on the pleasurable pain.

I grew harder against his thigh and I was sure he could feel it. Since this wasn’t a planned session, he was only wearing shorts, like I’d been, rather than the leather pants he preferred. I had to hold in the urge to hump his leg, knowing this would not go down well.

When something much harder than Master’s hand cracked against my ass, I howled. I hadn’t been expecting that, and even though it was nothing compared to the amount of pain I could take, it was enough to shock me into indignant cries.

“Oh, shut up,” Master said, whacking me a few more times with what I recognized as a wood-backed hairbrush. “You asked for this.”

I had, there was no denying it.

The extra sting from the makeshift paddle was enough to have me gritting my teeth, bedsheets clenched tightly in my fists to absorb some of the shock. Any thoughts I had about my Master going gentle on me, since we’d not had a session together for a few months, were chased out of my head by his even, punishing blows.

“Count,” he demanded, and I knew it was nearly over.

The last ten were delivered to the backs of my thighs in rapid succession, leaving me to bark out the numbers between each smack with barely enough time to catch my breath or absorb the sting of pain.

I wanted to collapse forward, finally relax and take a few moments to slow my racing heartbeat, but Master had other ideas.

“Up,” he said, smacking me again to make me move.

Quick to obey, I knelt on the floor, shaking my underwear off one leg and presenting, my hard cock thrust forward.