Comforting Touch (Touch #5) (8 page)

I can't breathe. I can't fucking breathe. I'm locked in a cage of pain and pleasure, both immobilizing me.

He strikes again and again, all while the climax crashes down on me. Then he drops the paddle somewhere on the floor before gripping my hips and slamming his cock into me.

The edges of my vision get blurry, and I see my limit approaching fast. Flipping me over a final time, he fucks me into the bed and grabs my throat in a light choke hold. His breathing is as harsh as his thrusts. I feel hot puffs of air and kissable lips against my cheek.

"I think that’s it," he groans hoarsely. "Color, baby?"

I scream out in pain as he locks my legs around his hips and draws his blunt fingernails along the back of my thigh. After all that paddling and flogging, I can't anymore.

"Yellow," I choke out.

He nods and removes the vibrator on my clit. "Good girl. I'm proud of you." Blood surges to my clit, exactly like it does to nipples after being clamped, and I'm thrown into a last orgasm. "God, Chelsea… You feel so damn amazing."

I can't see, I can barely hear, and I can't control any part of my body. Rio dominates me completely.

"Goddamn—I'm gonna come." He kisses away the tears that have evidently fallen down my face, and throughout the aftershocks of my orgasm, all I register are out-of-place murmurs about what a perfect girl I am.

Another kind of warmth seeps into me. His praise settles like a blanket, and I cling to him like a needy baby.

He called me that. He called me baby
.

I don’t wanna find him perfect already. I'll only be setting myself up for heartbreak. But what else am I supposed to feel? He's given me the perfect mixture of pain and affection. He hurts me physically then wraps me up in…comfort.

Oh, fuck.

I tense up momentarily before exhaustion wins. There's simply no fight left in me. I can't struggle against Rio. Not him. Even if this is my only time with him, I gotta let myself take whatever I can get. And I hope—God, I hope. I hope for more.

Chapter 8

I wake up in the middle of the night, disoriented and tired as hell. Someone called my name, right?

Dante
.

I blink drowsily. Only the small lamp on Rio's nightstand is lit, just enough for me to see Dante sitting on the edge of the bed and Rio standing in the doorway.

In a heartbeat, a flood of memories comes rushing back. The party…who won? Is Rio disappointed we never returned downstairs? Where's Dylan now? What time is it, exactly? Why the fuck is every part of me throbbing? Oh, that’s right. Rio…the pain, the amazing sex, the comfort…

Afterward, he'd carried me to his bathroom and drawn me a relaxing bath. He'd dried me, rubbed aloe into my skin, massaged me, kissed me, held me…until I fell asleep in his arms.

It really happened.

"You can be the big spoon another time,"
he'd chuckled sleepily when I had tried to face him.

Another time
. Let's hope.

Back to the present, I blink again and peer up at Dante's tired grin. Looks like he's enjoyed the party.

"Is it time to go?" I whisper hoarsely, clearing my throat. The thought of getting dressed and going home ranks somewhere near swimming with sharks and cuddling spiders.

"Well, Gretchen and I are." Dante smiles and touches my cheek. "You look very comfortable here. It's up to you. Rio tells me he'd like you to stay the night."

I look over to Rio, warm and fuzzy that he wants me to stay, and he nods. "If you want."

If
I want? Are ya kiddin'?

"I want." I manage a cheeky grin and turn to Dante again.

He chuckles. "I'm glad your playtime was that good. I still feel responsible for you, though. If you don’t mind, I'd like to come get you in the morning. Where you and Rio go from there is up to you, of course."

Sounds reasonable.

"Bring your sub, and we can have breakfast here tomorrow," Rio suggests.

Dante agrees, and after setting a time, he goes downstairs again. Rio follows, letting me know that he just has to show Miranda to the slave quarters in the basement first.

I shake my head to myself, thinking it's sort of disturbing. Again, my kink might not be Miranda's and vice versa, but jeesh. I'm looking forward to the entire story, and I need Rio's take on it, too. Otherwise I know I won't be able to move on, no matter how much I'm hoping for it.

When Rio returns, he strips off his boxer briefs and gets under the covers. He pulls me close and tucks my head under his chin as if we do this every night. As if this is normal.

"You're stiff as a stick." He kisses the top of my head and lets his lips linger. "Relax, Chelsea."

I'm trying, but this is weird. Scening is one thing, but spending the night like this? At the very least, shouldn’t I be shown to the slave quarters, as well? What makes me so damn different? Especially with our past and his reaction to my moving here—
stop
.

I blow out a breath.

Tomorrow. Or soon. I'll ask my questions then. Not tonight. Not right now. I'll savor this.

Except for one thing. "Miranda," I blurt out. "Is she forgiven? For whatever she's done." I add that last part in a rush. After all, Dylan and I are probably not supposed to know that she apparently stole money from Switch.

Rio doesn’t seem affected by my question at all. "That’s what punishments are for. Once you've been punished, you're forgiven."

I need to see his face for this, so I lift my head to search his eyes. "Do you really mean it?"
I need you to mean it.

"
Yes
. Now, shush." He silences me with a hard kiss, and I'm torn. Never in my life have I considered myself insecure. I've worked hard to get to where I am, even though I'm not exactly a huge success. But I manage fine, and I will never be ashamed of my past. Still, closing the subject so fast has me wondering if he really does mean what he says. Then again, he has no reason to lie.

Ugh
. Overthinking is a bitch.

"Let me look at you." Rio slides his hands underneath my armpits and hoists me up with a grunt, positioning me so I'm straddling his hips. "There we go." He grins faintly in the dim light, his eyes raking over my naked body. "Hell." At his whispered curse, I peer down to see what's causing that look of reverence in those green peepers of his. "You grew up, little rebel."

I watch as he traces a finger along the henna tattoos then derails to brush his thumb over a thin welt on my hip.

"Seeing my marks on you…" His jaw clenches. I feel his cock thickening between us. Heat pools in my stomach, and my brain struggles against the cobwebs of exhaustion. "Perfect," he murmurs, his eyes searching mine. "I'd like your thoughts on our scene before we sleep." His voice remains low and warm, but I can tell he doesn’t have another round of sex at the forefront of his mind.
Shame
. "The level of pain—do you want more or less?"

"Not more." I smooth a hand down his chest, feeling the sparse hair under my palm. "Tonight was incredible, right up until I reached my limit."

He nods pensively, his gaze never leaving mine. "Good. I wouldn’t be able to inflict any more, regardless. It was my limit, as well."

To hear we're perfectly matched in at least this department is a heady feeling, but it will probably only fuel the heartbreak if we don’t want the same kind of relationship.

I'm no stranger to sub frenzy; it happens too often. A sub desperate to find that special connection, and as soon as someone comes along and ticks off several boxes, it's easy to delude yourself and think you're in love and want it forever. I've been through it before, but this feels different.

I'm experienced enough to not rush into things because once that frenzy settles, you're back to where you started. The crazy attraction and the lovely butterflies evaporate—unless it's real. Unless you're cautious. Unless you take time to build a steady foundation. Unless your limits match.

With Rio, though… I sigh internally, tracing mindless patterns on his torso with my fingertips. My crush on him is consuming and alive, but my head is still in the game. I won't fold and give into him unless we find out we're really good for each other. Because this time around, I
am
looking for the real thing.

I want to find someone I won't hold at arm's length.

Of course I want it to be Rio Kelly. I ache for it.

"I'm still a little dazed about all this," he says out of nowhere. "Having you in my bed…" The corners of his mouth twist up a little. "It was too farfetched to think we'd end up here."

I can see how he'd feel that way. Being thirty years old and stumbling on to a sixteen-year-old little shit wouldn’t make anyone consider a future together with whips and chains.

Time has changed things, though.

"Will you treat me like a plague again?" That’s really all I need to know before this night is over.

"God no, baby." He sits up and hugs me tightly, dropping a soft kiss on the spot behind my ear. "I can't apologize enough for my reaction to your moving here. I was shocked, angry, and confused—and I have some shit I still have to work through." Grasping my chin, he makes me face him. "But I won't avoid you."

I can't describe how relieved I am. Locking my arms around his neck, I squeeze him back and close my eyes against the emotion threatening to surface.

"You changed your mind fast." I guess I'm still worried about that—if only a little. He's explained that seeing me at Switch and then Dante telling him I was coming to the party made Rio realize that I'm part of this community now. He said he needed to accept that and make the most of things, but is that all? And is he reluctant about it?

Feels like he can't be
too
reluctant, considering how quickly he bought me at tonight's slave auction. Not to mention where we are right now.

"It was more about caving." He brushes his lips along my shoulder. "I'll tell you all about it one day. But now I think we need sleep."

That totally gives me reason to voice one more curiosity. "Here or in the slave quarters? I mean, it's where Miranda is…"

What makes me different?
is what I'm really asking.

"Too cute." He rumbles a sleepy chuckle and lies down again. He brings me with him and kisses the top of my head, his arms snaking around me to keep me on top of him.
As if I'd leave voluntarily
.

Rio doesn’t offer any other response.

*

The next morning, disappointment settles over me for a brief moment when I wake up alone in bed. But then I see a note on Rio's pillow.

Good morning, little rebel. I'm out on my morning run, but I will be back soon. I hope to find you waiting for me in the bathtub.

I smile giddily and squeal into the pillow. I'm so silly, but I don’t care. I want this with Rio, and that means I gotta suck it up and find the courage to be up-front about everything. My intentions and wishes, my past, and even my, um, innocent Facebook-stalker tendencies.

Maybe he'll take a chance on me, and that note doesn’t do anything to deflate my hope.

Jumping outta the bed, I practically skip into the ensuite bathroom. As I wait for the tub to fill up, I survey my naked body in the mirror. A shiver runs down my spine, my fingers brushing along some of the bruises and welts Rio left behind.

Faint shades of blue, red, and purple decorate my skin, along with the fading henna. I almost wanna take a picture of his marks on me, but I'll settle for the dull throb and ache they've left behind, plus the wish for more some day.

That’s not to say I always want to get beaten—far, far from it. My nature lies in servitude and worship, but every now and then, there's nothing like the fiery pain of physical sadism.

Wanting to please Rio as much as he's pleased me, I leave the bathroom, walk through his bedroom, and tiptoe out in the hallway. I can hear voices from downstairs, possibly Dante and Gretchen. Maybe even Dylan? And Miranda? I can't be sure, but if I could just sneak downstairs and maybe get Rio some coffee, perhaps some fruit—anything; the paper?—to show I'd love to go the extra mile for him, I'd feel better.

I close the door behind me again and scan the bedroom, my eyes lighting up in triumph when I spot my bag in the chair by the window. Dante must've brought it for me before he took off last night.

Inside, I find a pair of jeans and a T-shirt once I've taken out the jacket Rio let me borrow—screw underwear. I'll be naked in the tub soon enough.

When I'm dressed, I walk down the stairs slowly, not wanting to get caught.
Oh, shit
. Didn’t even make it three steps! Stopping short, I watch as two guys walk briskly toward the front door carrying furniture that was used at the play party.

So maybe it's not Dante and Gretchen who are here already. It could be whatever company Rio hired to turn his patio into a Roman villa.

"What are you doing?"

I suck in a breath and whip around, only to see a sleepy Dylan rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Um, hi." I don’t really
know
what I'm doing, so I don’t answer. With people milling about and Rio returning any minute, I might as well wait with my extra mile. "Did you just wake up?" He's dressed, but it looks like he threw the clothes on seconds ago. His hair is sticking out in every direction.

He nods and hikes a bag up his shoulder. "Master Dante's driving me to Gabriella's place."

Gabriella, huh? I raise a brow at him. I don’t know him very well, but after having my hands all over his body—and vice versa—during the contests last night, I think it's okay to be curious.

"Shouldn’t it be Cade's house?" I ask carefully.

Anguish flashes in his eyes, and he tries to cover it up with a tight smile as he descends a couple steps. "I'm done with that. He can't expect me to ask permission for every little thing when he doesn’t want more than a casual arrangement. I don’t function that way."

My face falls, and I feel sad for him. "Have you told him you want more, sweetie?"

He nods again, this time a quick jerk as if he's uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, but I'd rather not talk about it." He offers a weak smile and passes me with a kiss to my forehead. "I'll go check if Dante's here yet."

Blowing out a breath, I wait until he's outta sight. Then I slump down and sit on the landing, thinking of ways to help Dylan. But I don’t know him enough yet. I'll call him later and offer support—

My thought flies out the window when I hear Rio's voice.
Back already?
"It doesn’t matter," he chuckles darkly, and I peer down to see him heading toward the living room. He's on the phone. His back is facing me, and from up here, he looks slighter. "You're clearly more forgiving than I am." Definitely not dressed in workout clothes. Instead he's wearing black dress pants and a light blue button-down. His black hair is slicked back, which…huh. Didn’t figure Rio as one for having his hair styled all prim and proper. "I would've fired her immediately. She stole—simple as that."

I freeze at those words.