TRUTH (18 page)

“Do you know what stands out the most for me from this past weekend?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“It was when we were standing in my old bedroom and I was telling you about all those times I snuck out and climbed down the tree. That wasn’t a good time for me in my life, but telling you about it made me realize how much things have changed. How much I’ve changed since then.”
 

Hearing him talk about it again made me smile, which turned into giggles.
 

“Picturing me climbing trees in my suit again, Brianna?”

When I didn’t answer, he moved his hand to my side and began tickling me. Before I knew it, I was hanging over the arm of his chair and laughing so hard I could barely breathe.

Eventually, he helped me to sit up, a huge smile on his face. I was panting, but it didn’t seem to matter as he took hold of my face and kissed me.
 

It didn’t take long for him to deepen the kiss. Soon I was straddling him and had my fingers tangled in his hair. When he broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against mine and chuckled. “It amazes me how easy it is to get sidetracked with you.”

A thrill surged through me at his words. If kissing me was what he meant by getting sidetracked, I liked that.

He kissed me once again and then leaned back in his chair, leaving me sitting astride his lap. “As much as I’d love to forget about everything and take you to bed, there are things we still need to talk about, sweetheart.”

He drew his hands down my side and gripped my hips. It probably took me longer than it should to realize he was holding me in place so I wouldn’t bump the erection that was once again straining against the fabric of his slacks. I glanced down purely out of reflex.
 

Stephan dug his fingers into my hips and groaned. “That isn’t helping. I need your eyes up here.”

My face heated, and I knew I must have been blushing. Looking up, I met that dark look in his eyes that confirmed his desire to forget everything he wanted to talk about and skip straight to sex. It was strange how much my feelings on the subject had changed, but I didn’t want to question it too much. Sex with Stephan was something I enjoyed and even looked forward to. I didn’t want that to change.

He closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, they were more focused and the intense heat was gone. I couldn’t help but be a little disappointed.
 

“Before we get into what I had planned for tonight, I want to talk about what happened earlier when I came home.”

When he didn’t continue, I felt I needed to respond in some way. “Okay.”

“How do you feel about what happened?”

I was confused again.
 

“I don’t understand.”
 

He began rubbing his hands up and down my thighs absentmindedly. The fabric of my dress moved under his palms, scraping lightly against my skin. It was distracting.

“How did you feel about me pulling your hair and fucking your mouth?”

Time stopped.

“Brianna?”

I didn’t answer. My mouth felt dry all of a sudden.

“Brianna, look at me.”

I looked at him.

“What are you feeling right now?”

I thought about it for a moment before answering. It wasn’t panic or fear exactly. There was some of that, but that wasn’t it entirely. “I feel . . . numb? No. I don’t know. Like . . .”

“Like, what?”

“Like I’m . . . waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” he prompted when I didn’t continue.

“I . . . I don’t know.”

He took my hands and placed them on his chest. “Can you feel me? Feel me under your hands?”

I nodded, and the strange suspended feeling began to fade.

“Better?”

“Yes.”

He smiled.
 

“We need to talk about this, Brianna. I need to know how you feel, what you think about what happened tonight when I came home. Is that what you wanted? Is it what you expected to happen?”

I curled my fingers into the soft cotton of his shirt. “I . . . I didn’t know . . . what would happen.”

He lifted his right hand and began running his fingers along my scalp as he had when I was kneeling. “I know you’ve said you enjoy kneeling, and you like when I run my fingers through your hair like this.”

I closed my eyes and reveled in the sensations his ministrations brought to the surface.

“What about the rest? You have to tell me, Brianna. I can’t read your mind.”

When I didn’t say anything right away, he tugged on my hair. It wasn’t as hard as he had before, but my body still responded.
 

He gave my hair another tug.

“I . . . I liked it.”
 

Then as if to test the theory, he wrapped his hand around my hair as he had before and pulled hard enough to jerk my head back, exposing my neck. I automatically closed my eyes. “Eyes open, Brianna.”

I opened my eyes, the long, straight beams of his ceiling in my direct line of sight. I couldn’t see him, only feel.
 

He didn’t release his hold on my hair as his other hand snaked up my dress. I gasped as his fingers came in contact with my damp panties.
 

“Does my pulling your hair make you wet, Brianna? Do you like that?”

It was impossible to nod given the tight hold he had on my hair. “Yes.”

Stephan continued to rub up and down over my sensitive flesh. All too soon, the pressure began to build, and I knew my orgasm was approaching.
 

“You aren’t to come until I say, Brianna.”

I closed my eyes, trying to hold off what I knew was coming. My body felt overheated, like I was wearing a snow suit on a warm summer day. His lips brushed my skin along the edge of my dress above my breast moments before he moved the clingy fabric out of the way with his teeth. Ignoring my bra, he placed his mouth over my nipple and sucked. The sensation had me crying out.
 

Seconds later, two of his fingers dipped beneath my panties and plunged inside me. I held on for dear life. It was too much. Too much.

He blew on the wet fabric covering my nipple, and a shiver ran through me. This one had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the wonderful things he was doing to my body.
 

He loosened his grip on my hair slightly, but I could still feel the controlling tug of his hand.
 

“Look at me,” he demanded.

I opened my eyes and glanced toward him.
 

His eyes were dark with arousal. It was a look that used to scare me, but it didn’t from him. Not anymore. Instead, the sight only increased the tension building between my legs to the point where it was almost unbearable. I was trying to obey, to not come before he said. But it was becoming difficult. I didn’t know how much longer I would be able to hold on.

“Come,” he whispered as he scraped his thumb against my clit and bit down on my nipple.
 

It was as if the world exploded into little shards of glass. I screamed, riding out my orgasm.

Stephan

I would never, ever get tired of seeing Brianna climax, feeling her body quake beneath my hands. She collapsed under her own weight, and I caught her before she lost her balance. I didn’t want her falling to the floor and hurting herself.
 

Resting her head on my shoulder, I massaged her back and neck as her breathing returned to normal. The events of this evening gave me hope. Hope for our future. Whether Brianna realized it or not, she’d just proven that she could be what I needed in a submissive. Now it was up to her to decide if it was what she wanted for her life.
 

We sat there for almost half an hour, her arms wrapped around my neck, my hands rubbing her back. It was perfect. I couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend my evening. Unfortunately, I would have to break the spell that had encompassed us.
 

“How do you feel?” I asked, sliding my hand up into her hair and grazing my fingers over her scalp.

She burrowed her head further into my shoulder.
 

“Good.” Her response was muffled by my shirt, but I understood her.
 

“Does your head hurt at all?”

She shook her head. “No.”

I realized she was blushing, and kissed the side of her head. “Does the fact that you like when I pull your hair embarrass you?”

Brianna didn’t answer right away, and her fingers went to work on the buttons of my dress shirt. I held her and waited.
 

“I shouldn’t like that,” she whispered.

I couldn’t stand not being able to see her face any longer, so I shifted us so I could look into her eyes as I spoke. “What makes you think you shouldn’t like it?”

She glanced down. I tapped under her chin, and she looked back up at me. “I don’t like . . . pain.” The last word came out strangled.

I brushed my fingers from her temple to her chin and back, never taking my eyes off her. “What you went through, from what you’ve told me . . . from the evidence I’ve seen on your body . . .” I sighed, trying not to let the anger those thoughts evoked in me take over. “What was done to you was extreme. There are very few people who would actually enjoy the level of pain you endured.”
 

I let that set in before I continued. “Remember the lesson with the cane?”

She nodded. “It’s not the object, it’s the person using it.”

I smiled. “Good girl. And how do you think that applies here?”

Brianna looked down again, but I could still see her face clearly. She was thinking, trying to figure out the puzzle I’d given her. I had no doubts she would, however. It would just take her some time and thought to wrap her head around something she’d probably never considered.

Time ticked by, and the light coming through the window changed from sunlight to the artificial lights of the city. I reached over and turned on the lamp so we wouldn’t be sitting in the dark.
 

“Pain is relative?”

“Meaning?”
 

“Everyone is different.” She hesitated. “And . . . it depends on the person?”

“Very good.” I kissed her forehead and smiled. “Pain isn’t bad any more than a cane. It’s the individual who is administering it, and the person who’s receiving it, and the situation they’re in. As long as they agree on the level, the use, then it can be pleasurable.”

She nodded, then appeared to think very hard about something again.
 

“I’m scared.”

I pushed her hair back behind her ears. “What has you scared?”

“I shouldn’t . . . I shouldn’t
like
it. I shouldn’t—”

“Sweetheart, there is no right or wrong about what we like and what we don’t like. It just is.”

“And you . . . you like to pull my hair?”

I chuckled. “Yes. I like it a lot.”
 

Now that the crisis appeared to be over, I changed positions again and tucked her head back into the crook of my neck.

“You should never feel ashamed or embarrassed about something you enjoy. Or something you don’t enjoy, for that matter. “

“What if . . .”

“Go on.”

“What if I don’t like something you do?”

I continued to caress her as we talked. Even though she was calm, I knew from experience that could change in an instant.
 

“First, we would talk about it like we’re doing now. If it were something you truly didn’t like, however, or were uncomfortable with doing, we wouldn’t do it again. It’s called a hard limit.”

“A hard limit.”

I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or herself, but I answered her anyway. “A hard limit is something you absolutely, under no circumstances, want to do or try.”

She was thinking again.
 

“Do you have . . . hard limits, too?”

“Of course. Everyone has hard limits, even if they don’t call them that.”