Light Switch (31 page)

I said nothing as I stepped up behind him. My footfalls sounded menacing as they echoed off the walls of the otherwise silent room.

“I’m sorry, Mistress,” he said quickly.

“But it did happen.” I ran the handle of the cat o’ nine tails down his back. “I think you’re forgetting who’s in charge here, Scott.” I draped the tails in front of him and slowly drew them up his chest.

“It won’t happen again, Mistress.” He shuddered, tilting his head as the tails slithered over his shoulder.

I said nothing as I combed my fingers through his hair. The muscles in his neck and shoulders twitched, probably expecting me to grab his hair and yank his head back. The more I silently played with his hair, the more his body tensed.

“Are you going to be mouthy again?” I asked finally.

“No, Mistress.”

“Are you sure about that?”

He swallowed. “Yes, Mistress. I’m sorry.” The tremor in his voice sent a tremor through me. In spite of his momentary rebellion, he was under my control, at my mercy, and he knew it. Just as I had with Damien, I understood what he got out of playing the Dom. The trust and surrender of my submissive was as arousing as it was empowering.

I rested my hand on the back of his neck. “I’ll let it go this time. But don’t let it happen again.”

His shoulders dropped. “I won’t. Thank you, Mistress.”

I stepped back and raised the cat o’ nine tails again.

The longer I went on, falling into a rhythmic pattern of striking first his left side, then his right, the more his muscles relaxed. Each impact of the tails made his whole body waver as if his bones were liquefying. His head stayed bowed, and whenever he spoke at my command, his voice was slurred.

A dull ache crept into my elbow and shoulder. I didn’t trust my aim enough to use my left hand, so it was time to change things around a little.

“Stand up.”

He rose on shaking legs while I set the cat o’ nine tails down and picked up my drink. I walked around him. The only sounds were his breathing, my sharp footsteps, and the clink of ice, the few cubes that hadn’t yet melted, against the inside of my glass. He didn’t look at me, didn’t raise his head, just tensed every time the ice rattled.

I stopped behind him. With my free hand, I untied the knot I’d made with his shirt. The shirt fell to the floor and his hands dropped to his sides. He rolled his shoulders and tilted his head to one side, then the other, probably getting rid of a crick or a cramp. He flexed and straightened his wrists, then did the same with his fingers.

I waited until he was still again. When he was, I pressed my glass against the small of his back. He released a choked, startled sound and his posture stiffened. When his startled reaction had passed, I drew my glass up his back, grinning as he shivered and tensed every time cold met new skin.

“Cold?” I asked.

“Yes, Mistress,” he said through clenched teeth.

I lifted the glass off his skin. “Bedroom.”

He didn’t hesitate, turning and starting for the door. As I followed him across the hall, his gait was a little slower than usual. At first I thought he took every step gingerly, but as he made a similarly sluggish gesture out of running his hand through his hair, I realized it was lethargy. So I wasn’t the only one who felt like the life had been sucked out of me after a flogging session. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, just… odd.

Before I could get the bedroom door closed, the cat dashed past me. Scott followed her with glazed eyes, but no response registered on his face when she jumped up onto the bed.

“Weren’t you told you don’t belong in here?” I put her under my arm and heaved her out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her before she could give me the evil eye.

I faced Scott. He met my eyes for a split second, then quickly shifted his downward. I handed him my glass, and we stood in silence for a moment while he drained it.

“Thank you, Mistress,” he whispered, handing the glass back.

“You’re welcome,” I said. “You’re doing well, Scott.”

He smiled, meeting my eyes for a second. “Thank you, Mistress.”

I rattled the ice in the glass enough to make him shiver, then said, “Take everything off.”

He stripped out of his remaining clothes. I bit my lip. If ever there was a view that never got old, it was an aroused, naked Scott.
Jesus, you’re beautiful
.

My glass, which contained nothing but a few ice cubes now, clinked on the nightstand. With the same hand, I reached for his cock. His eyes widened and his lips parted as I stroked him gently with cold fingers.

“Do you like that?” I asked.

“Yes, Mistress,” he said, again through gritted teeth.

“Even with the cold?”

He dug his teeth into his bottom lip. “Yes, Mistress.” The coldness of my skin wore off the longer I stroked him. I didn’t want him to get used to my touch, so I moved my hand a little faster to keep him off guard. He gasped, screwing his eyes shut.

“Unbutton my shirt,” I said before he’d had a chance to recover.

His eyes flew open.
How the hell am I supposed to do that while you’re touching me like that
? was etched into his slack jaw and furrowed brow.

I raised my eyebrows.
Was I unclear?

His Adam’s apple bobbed and, with shaking hands, he reached for the first button of my blouse. It came apart easily, as did the second, but when he went for the third, I squeezed his cock and stroked faster. He closed his eyes for a moment, hand faltering briefly. He quickly collected himself, though, and continued through the buttons.

I released him and shrugged out of my shirt, letting it fall to the floor.

“Bra,” I said.

He hesitated for a moment, probably wondering if I was going to turn around to give him better access. When I didn’t, he leaned forward and reached around me. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes as his fingers fought with the clasp.

“Look at me.”

He did, and his fingers fumbled a little more. Finally, the clasp came apart, and I didn’t miss the relieved breath he released when it did.

I took my bra off and dropped it on top of my shirt. With that out of the way, I turned to get a condom out of the nightstand.

I held it out to him. “Put that on.”

His breath caught. With an unsteady hand, he took the condom, and as he obeyed, I got out of the rest of my clothes.

I thought about getting on top, but when I remembered the welts on his back, I thought better of it. He liked pain, but even the softest sheets might be unpleasantly abrasive against skin that raw.

I laid on my back and gestured for him to join me in bed. Again he hesitated, but as always, obeyed. At my command, he got on top, sucking in a breath as I guided his cock to my pussy. A low groan escaped his lips as he slid into me.

Once he was all the way in, I hooked one leg around him and held him there.

“You’re going to fuck me. Slowly.” I ran my nails down his sides, waiting for him to shiver and bite his lip before I went on. “You’re going to fuck me, but if you come, Scott, this evening is over. Understood?”

He started to reply, but I tightened my pussy around him, and he could only close his eyes and exhale.

“Answer me, Scott.”

“Yes, I understand, Mistress.”

I slid my leg off his hip so he could move again. As he started to withdraw, I said, “Remember: slowly.”

He nodded. His shoulders and abs quivered as he obeyed my command. Every stroke was smooth, controlled, and if the way his cheek rippled with the clenching of his jaw was any indication, torture. Perfect.

I reached for the glass on the nightstand. The ice cubes rattled and Scott gulped, his rhythm faltering for a split second before he recovered. He watched my hand warily, then grimaced when I held the small piece of ice a couple of inches above his back between his shoulder blades. With every passing second, he cringed a little more, his entire body tensing and trembling.

I knew the instant the first drop of cold water hit his back: he exhaled hard and a violent tremor surged through him, driving him deeper inside me. A second drop made him pull in a sharp breath. A third made him shiver. When I pressed the ice cube against his skin, he whimpered and shuddered. I drew it up the back of his neck, then brought it around to the front, tracing the underside of his jaw before letting the ice slide down the front of his throat. He continued to fuck me slowly, cringing and grimacing from both exertion and cold.

When the piece in my hand had melted, I reached for more. He gasped and moaned as I ran the ice over his abs, his chest, along his collarbone, up the side of his neck. He closed his eyes, cursing under his breath and letting his head fall forward. Only when that piece of ice had melted did he relax.

“Sit up,” I said.

He pushed himself up on shaking arms. I reached between us and circled my clit with two fingertips. Scott gasped and closed his eyes.

“Keep moving,” I said sharply. “And don’t close your eyes. I didn’t say you could look away.”

He opened his eyes. His faltering rhythm recovered. “I’m s—” He paused, wetting his lips. “I’m sorry, Mistress.” His eyes flicked back and forth between my face and my fingers, probably trying to focus on whichever was less likely to hasten his orgasm.

“Look at
me
, Scott.”

Our eyes met, and I could tell by the furrow of his brow that I’d picked the more frustrating option for him.

I circled faster. My pussy tightened around his cock, and he groaned. “Does that turn you on, Scott?”

He exhaled hard. “Yes, Mistress. It does.”

“Good. Now fuck me faster.”

In spite of the frustrated sound that escaped his lips, he obeyed, thrusting faster.

Breathing in short, shallow gasps, I whispered, “Yes, just like that, Scott.”

He shuddered, biting his lip and groaning again.

“Don’t come yet.” I made no effort to mask how close I was to doing just that, though. My voice came out as a breathless moan that I was sure drove him insane, which was precisely my plan. “Don’t come yet, Scott, don’t you dare.”

I watched my own orgasm unfold in his expression: his breath catching when my pussy tightened around his cock, his eyes widening when I released that telltale, breathless moan, his lips pulling into a grimace when I dug my nails into his shoulders. I was coming, but he was falling apart, struggling to hold on while I let go.

As I came back to earth, he swore under his breath, his arms quivering beneath him. He was close, of that I had no doubt, but I kept it out of his reach.

“Don’t come yet.” I teased his nipples with my nails. “You’re not going to come yet, are you, Scott?”

“No, Mistress,” he said through his teeth.

Three times, I thought he’d given in and disobeyed me, thinking his throaty moan or the way he forced himself a little deeper signaled imminent loss of control, but each time, he recovered. More than once, he screwed his eyes shut, probably trying to keep himself together, and each time he opened them before I could order him to do so.

“Do you want to come, Scott?” I asked.

“Yes, Mistress,” he whispered. “Please, yes,
please
.”

“I can’t hear you.” I scratched my nails up his sides, suppressing a grin when he squirmed. “
Do
you want to come, Scott?”

A little louder this time, he said, “Yes, Mistress, I—”

“That doesn’t sound very convincing. Do—”

“Yes, yes, Mistress, please.” With every syllable, his voice crescendoed to a roar until a shudder made his breath falter and dropped that roar to a moan. “
Please
, Mistress…”

“Yes. Come, Scott.”

He had time for one last, deep thrust before he collapsed beneath the force of his orgasm. He slumped over me, grabbing my shoulders and letting his head fall beside mine as his body trembled.

When it had tapered enough for him to draw a breath, he inhaled deeply, then murmured, “Thank you, Mistress.”

While Scott got rid of the condom, I got us both some water. Once he’d drunk some and caught his breath, I had him lie on his stomach. I pulled the sheet up to his waist while he folded his arms under the pillow and rested his head.

I rubbed lotion on his back and shoulders while the dust settled and the world returned to normal or something close to it. He closed his eyes and moaned softly, almost purring as his back rose and fell with slow, deep breaths. He didn’t speak. A few times, I thought he’d fallen asleep, and he may very well have.

The smooth, repetitive motions of my palms on his slick skin nearly lulled me to sleep. I probably could have done it all night if fatigue hadn’t crept into my joints.

I slowed to a stop, and his eyes fluttered open.

“How does your back feel?” I asked.

“Stings.” He craned his neck to shoot me a grin over his shoulder. “Nicely done.”

I laughed. “I didn’t fuck you up too badly?”

“Not at all.” He was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t realize what a cruel tease you were.”

I ran a light fingertip up the center of his spine, laughing when he shuddered. “I learned from the best.”

“So you did.” He chuckled. “The ice was a nice touch.”

“You did mention it was your Achilles Heel.”

“Yeah, and at the time, I didn’t think telling you that would come back to bite me.”

“You should have guessed I’d grab onto any weakness I could find and hold onto it until I had the opportunity to exploit it.”

“Bitch,” he muttered.”

I laughed softly as I set the lotion on the nightstand and sat beside him. Neither of us spoke as I stroked his hair the way he often stroked mine. He closed his eyes again, and I thought he was drifting off to sleep again until he fidgeted, rolling his shoulders and sighing.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Tired.”

“I wore you out?”

“Mm-hmm.” He rolled onto his side and patted the bed. “Come here.” He pulled the sheet back enough to let me get in next to him, then threw it over both of us.

An age passed while we just held each other and touched. Occasionally, a long, tender kiss carried us away, and more than once I thought I was going to fall asleep in his arms or vice versa.

After a while, he rested his head on the pillow and looked at me. “You’ve come a long way since we started this,” he whispered, caressing my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I had a feeling you and kink would get along.”

“You were right.”

He grinned. “Of course I was right. I’m always right.”

“Cocky bastard.”

“Damn right.” He laughed softly. When his humor faded, he said nothing as he watched our fingers lace together between our chests.

“You’ve gone quiet,” I said.

His eyes flicked up and met mine. The hint of color across his cheeks reminded me of the pink I’d beaten into his back earlier.

“Sorry,” he said, “I was just thinking.”

I moistened my lips. “About?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but paused. His gaze returned to our joined hands, and he frowned as he watched his thumb trace an arc back and forth across the back of mine.

“Scott?”

He looked up again. There was something unspoken in his expression, something that sent cool water through my veins.

When he came to life this time, he didn’t speak, he moved. Specifically, he moved closer to me, and when his lips parted, it wasn’t for speech, but a gentle kiss. His lips moved so softly against mine, I thought I might have imagined it until his tongue met mine. Then, with a simultaneous inhalation, we pulled each other closer and deepened the kiss.

I ran my fingers down his back, but when I found the welts the cat o’ nine tails had left, he flinched, so I cradled the sides of his face instead. His hand traced the curve of my spine to my lower back. When he pulled me to him, his erection brushed my hip, and I released a startled breath.

He rolled me onto my back, clasping my hand in his and laying it on the pillow beside us. Without breaking the kiss, he reached over me and opened the drawer. When he came back with a condom, I stared at him.

“You’re not worn out?”

He tore the wrapper with his teeth. “I’m exhausted.” He kissed me, drawing it out for a moment before whispering, “But I
need
to be inside you again.”

Once the condom was on, I wrapped my legs around him. Releasing a soft groan, he slipped easily inside me.

Mind and body could barely comprehend that this was Scott. His soft hair between my fingers, his hands caressing my face, his warm breath on my cheek as he moved so deep inside me.

His skin quivered beneath my fingertips. Every now and then, he drew in a ragged breath and trembled at my touch. A shiver followed my fingers up the length of his back, and when I reached his neck, he moaned into my kiss. In my hands, his shoulders trembled with exertion as he took long, slow strokes inside me.

Anything beyond these walls was either soundless or irrelevant, and everything within created a near-silent narration of us. Skin whispered across skin and sheets hissed across sheets. The steady, barely audible groan of the bed frame’s joinery marked our slow cadence. Unsteady breathing punctuated the gentle sounds of long kisses.

And all the while, he held me. He didn’t restrain me, he didn’t use my hips or shoulders to gain leverage and drive himself deeper. He
held
me.

We’d made love before, crossed into intimacy that couldn’t exist between the people we were supposed to be, but this was different.

I didn’t have to tell him to look at me this time. I wasn’t his Mistress anymore anyway, but with or without my command, he held my gaze just as I held his.

And I knew.

I could no more escape the truth than I could the intensity in his blue eyes.

It wasn’t a fluke this time. It couldn’t be. We’d accidentally made love after I panicked on the Saint Andrew’s Cross. For comfort, I’d told myself. To get back on the same page, to calm me down with a gentle touch. Yet for all my rationalizing about how or why we’d done so then, here we were again, moving together not as friends, not as Dom and sub, but as the lovers we’d been all along.

I wrapped my arms around him and raised my head to kiss him. Our lips met, and we both sank down to the bed.

His lips and tongue moved with mine. Our hips fell into a slow, perfect rhythm. With every touch, from his fingers in my hair to his cock deep inside me, another piece of my epiphany fell into place.

The simple truth was I was falling for Scott.

No, it was even simpler than that: I
had
fallen for him. I’d trusted him, I’d surrendered to him, and somewhere amidst the bindings and fears and blindfolds and floggers, I’d fallen in love with him.

Our lips barely touched, as if we couldn’t decide between breathing or kissing. Eventually, we settled on the latter.

He took slow, smooth strokes, moving only from the hips. How long we moved like that—kissing and breathing each other while he fucked me slowly—I couldn’t say. It didn’t matter. He was inside me, over me, touching me, kissing me, and nothing else mattered.

With a sharp gasp, he shuddered, pushing himself deeper. When he recovered, his rhythm was faster.

I was only distantly aware of his cock moving inside me, so distracted was I by his breath on my skin and the sheer sight of him. His eyes screwed shut, the cords standing out from his neck, his lips parting with each uneven breath he couldn’t
quite
release. I’d never seen him like this, never felt him like this. He wasn’t just getting close to the edge, he was unraveling from the inside out.

“Oh…God…” he breathed. He could barely choke the words out, and had his eyes been open, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see tears in them.

I rocked my hips back, taking him deeper. He gripped my shoulders tighter, and with a shudder and a breathless whimper, Scott—my Dom, my Master—shattered.

When he’d finally stopped shaking, he pushed himself up. He rested his weight on one elbow and, with his free hand, brushed a strand of hair out of my face. Our eyes met, and denial was no longer an option.

Especially not when he kissed me so gently, so tenderly.

Definitely not when he whispered against my lips, “I love you, Krissy.”

“I love you, too.”

He smiled, and for the first time since I’d known him, he looked shy. His cheeks colored a little, and he dropped his gaze. “I know this wasn’t what we set out to do. I guess it just kind of…”

“Happened?”

His eyes flicked up again. “Yeah. It just happened.”

My stomach fluttered, and it wasn’t just the butterflies that came from looking into Scott’s eyes. Had we gone too far tonight? Had we crossed a line we shouldn’t have crossed when we put aside all the dominance and submission in exchange for level ground and lovemaking?

I combed my fingers through his hair. “So, where do we go from here?”

Some of his usual confidence and cockiness returned to the curl of his lips, almost masking the uncertainty that creased his brow. “Keep fucking and raising welts on each other’s skin?”

“I suppose we could do that.” I trailed my nail down the back of his neck, and he let his head fall forward to give me more access.

After a moment, he looked at me again. “We don’t have to figure it all out tonight.”

“Thank God for that.”

He smiled, then gasped as he pulled out slowly. “I guess we take it a day at a time from here. See what else…happens.” He offered a cautious grin, and when I returned it, he kissed me gently before getting up to get rid of the condom.

One day at a time
, I thought.
See what else happens
.

I swallowed hard as he came back to bed. Resting my head on his shoulder, I wondered if too much had happened already.

Fuck
.

Fatigue quickly caught up with us and took over, so we didn’t push the conversation. Scott didn’t seem too unnerved by the whole thing, nor was he in a great rush to find answers for every question this new revelation had raised. Usually, his confidence and self-assuredness was contagious. The touch of his hand or the gentleness of his voice could quiet nearly any distress or alarm.

Not tonight.

As we settled into bed together, my stomach got more and more
un
settled. I loved Scott, and that didn’t diminish—nor was it diminished by—whatever it was I felt for Matt. More than that, my relationship with one was indelibly marked by my relationship with the other. The things I learned from Scott made sex with Matt hotter. Matt’s voyeurism had added a whole different dimension of sexiness to my encounters with Scott. Having them at the same time had easily been two of the most intense, amazing experiences of my life.

But a choice would have to be made, and soon. I couldn’t have them at the same time. Not like this. In bed, in smoking hot ménage situations, that we could do. Emotions were on the table now, though. Scott loved me, but he also loved Amy. There was no way he’d give her up to be with me, nor would I dream of asking him to.

Whatever Matt felt or me, he wouldn’t ask me to give up Scott. Scott wouldn’t ask me to give up Matt. Sooner or later, though, something had to give. Neither Matt nor I were wired for polyamoury. It just wasn’t something either of us could do, and even if I could do it, I couldn’t ask Matt to share me with Scott. They both deserved more than half of me.

I couldn’t change how I felt about them, but I couldn’t have both of them. One way or the other, I was going to lose. A choice had to be made, and someone was going to get hurt.

Scott clasped his hand in mine on his chest and kissed the top of my head. I closed my eyes.

For the first time, I regretted getting involved with the two of them. Every moment of it had been hot, and I’d finally had the opportunity to explore my sexuality, but had it been worth it? Had it been worth putting myself in a position of possibly having to hurt one of them, if not both?

Was it worth risking two of my most cherished friendships?

I stared at the ceiling and sighed.

Now what the hell do I do
?