Make Me (17 page)

And someone like Darko doesn’t need to scare his sub or hurt them. Not like Carey. Maybe the fear is half the appeal for the ones he tops, but I don’t want that. I want someone who makes me feel safe, who I can trust to take over and give me what I need.

No, I wanted to be with him and learn about kink. I’m going to get the story of my career by having the hottest sex I’ve ever had. There’s no downside.

Why am I so conflicted about this? There’s nothing wrong with wanting him.

This isn’t about my feelings for him, it’s about a story; purely professional.

I’ll keep telling myself that.

Slowly, I stand and kick off my boots, focusing on the floor with a laser-like intensity. The dress follows next. Undressing in front of him is as unnerving as if I were in front of a crowd of people.

Which, I suppose, is part of the lesson too. He doesn’t give me a scene without there being a point to it. Everyone I saw tonight had one thing in common: no shame when it came to body image. Super fit or extra curvy, everyone carried themselves with amazing confidence.

We’ve already had sex, but it’s different. I know Darko’s attracted to me, at least on some level, and the memory of that brings my gaze from the floor to meet his.

The raw desire on his face further emboldens me, and without looking away, I unclasp my bra and ease it down my arms, letting it dangle by one strap from the end of my finger before allowing it to drop to the floor.

Pausing to run my fingers through my hair, basking in the unfamiliar sensation of being sexually confident, I lightly brush my hands down my torso, hook my thumbs in the waistband of my panties, and ease them over my hips and thighs, waiting for gravity to welcome them to the floor before stepping out of them.

Bolder still, I turn my back to Darko and leisurely kneel on the bed, unfolding myself along the gorgeous duvet. The thread count must be high, or my endorphins are raging, because the material is as soft as flower petals when my nipples slide across it.

“May I touch you?”

He’s right beside the bed already, which means he started walking over as soon as my back was turned. He’s asking permission to touch me? How? Where? “Yes.”

“It is time for us to go beyond red, yellow, green. Have you chosen a safeword?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“Bunnies.”

His lip twitches as though suppressing a smile. “You do not need to explain what your safeword means to anyone, for it is yours and yours alone. Your safeword is the only thing that will stop me tonight. I hope you’ve chosen one you’ll never forget, one that means something to you.”

“It’s from my favorite book. I’ll never forget it.”

“Excellent.”

Every nerve is on high alert, waiting for his touch, uncertain where it will fall. I squeeze my eyes tightly closed. Regardless of the lies I tell myself about why I’m doing this, the fact remains that I want Darko.

My thighs tense in surprise, then relax as his warm fingers glide up the back of my left leg, dipping slightly to tease the tender inner flesh, stopping just short of where I want his hands to be.

Or his mouth. Or his—

My other thigh is treated to the same unhurried touch, and again he stops just short of where I want his fingers buried. My hips buck upward, pressing to his palms as he caresses my hips, tracing the skin where my thighs meet my ass from the outside in, then back out again.

A thin whine leaves me and he chuckles. “What
don’t
you want me to do to you, Sloane?”

Nothing comes to mind. “I don’t know.”

“What
do
you want me to do to you?”

Everything.
“I don’t know.”

“I think you do know. I think there’s a list of things you want to happen, screaming through your blood right now.”

Yes. The places he’s touched are warmer than anywhere else, like he’s still covering the skin with his hands.

“What’s your safeword?” He traces a long line down the center of my spine, pausing just above my tailbone.

“Bunnies.” I want him everywhere. I need him anywhere. My skin is burning for him, for his touch. Wait, no, that’s weird. I shift a little more. “Um.”

“Yes?”

My back and thighs grow warmer. “My back and butt are getting hot.”

“I’ve touched you with an oil that grows warm.”

“Oh.” Now that I know what it is, I relax. It’s warm, but doesn’t get beyond a certain heat level, so it’s okay. More than okay, the areas gently radiate, drawing my attention to everywhere he’s touched, but also blatantly pointing out where he hasn’t, like a negative space of longing. My nipples are tight, and I’m having trouble keeping my hips still.

“Relax.”

The purr of the vibrator seems comically loud, but I want it. I want him. But when it makes contact, it’s in an unexpected place.

I moan. “That. Feels. Amazing.”

“I know.” He presses it a little harder between my shoulder blades, easing the knots from the muscles while his other hand kneads tension from my lower back. Now instead of half-frustrated and half-turned on, I’m half-puddle and half-turned on. No, still frustrated too.

Move those hands just a little lower.
But it’s not my place to tell him how to please me. I have to trust him to know. And oh boy, he’s reading my body perfectly so far.

“I don’t want you getting worked up about all the things you don’t know inside and out. That brilliant mind of yours needs to let go and slow down. The best way to approach a scene is when you are relaxed and flexible.”

Lust possesses my tongue. “I’m pretty flexible, remember?”

“I know.”

“Twelve years of yoga. I can put my feet behind my head, but we never got around to that in a scene. Wanna see that?”

His hands go very, very still. Before I can talk myself out of it, I slowly flip over onto my back but lack the nerve to make good on my ‘feet behind the head’ talk, instead keeping my legs straight. Darko’s gaze burns more than the oil on my skin. If I stayed perfectly still, I bet I’d have a tan in a few minutes.

If I stayed perfectly still.

His thigh muscles bunch and tighten beneath my hand as I bring it up his leg, slowly but steadily, giving him the chance to tell me to stop, to grab my hand and push it away. But he doesn’t. Not when I nudge and tease his heavy sac with the back of my hand. Not even when I flip my hand over and palm it, letting my fingertips gently scratch the bottom of his cock through the fabric of his pants.

His breathing and blinking slow. How far will he let me go? As far as I want? All the way and then some? Trapped in the material, it’s got to be uncomfortable, but with my index and thumb, I pinch the sides of his cock and slowly stroke up and down, uncharacteristically bold. Curiosity’s to blame for me wanting him to be harder, wanting to see him something other than utterly composed.

I need it. I need him. He squeezes his eyes shut when I grip him a little tighter, and triumph swells in my chest and I pop open the button of his pants. This powerful man, this Dominant, is helpless before me.

Eyes still shut, his lips curl into a gentle smile.

I forgot about the vibrator in his hand.

It touches down just below my bellybutton, making me gasp at the sudden contact. Darko’s face tilts down before opening his eyes, pinning me to the bed with nothing more than a look. He moves his hand lower and the pulsing heads straight down my body. Almost there.

I don’t want it.

I need it.

I’m not ready.

Hurry up.

I can’t think. I can barely move. She’s destroying every ounce of control I’ve got, so I give it back to her, the pleasure that obliterates thought. Her hand stops when I draw the vibrator down her body, which helps me focus again. I know what her endgame is, but there’s still a shadow of doubt in her eyes. She’s not quite ready.

And I can’t have that.

Timing it right, I palm her breast, touch the vibrator to her clit, and bend to kiss her mouth all at once. Overwhelmed or relieved, her gasp fills my mouth, and I suck it in, relishing the grinding of her hips. Her lips part invitingly, and I thrust my tongue in to stroke hers, deeply, slowly, then faster as the pleasure builds. I nip her lip with my teeth, and she smiles and pushes harder into the kiss, grabbing me by the tie, trying to pull me closer.

While it’s what I want more than anything right now, she’s not the one calling the shots. I need her to relinquish the need for control, so I resist. She pulls harder until she’s essentially hanging from my neck by my tie.

I cock an eyebrow and work the vibrator up and down her soaked pussy. Fuck me, she’s so wet. She moans but doesn’t let go. “Do not try to force me, Sloane. It won’t work. If you want something, ask for it.”

Her hips are going wild, and I position the vibrator between her legs, gently nudge, gauging her reaction to see if she’s ready. Head thrown back, her legs part and she flops back to the bed.

“Damn it, Darko.” She arches up, presses her pussy greedily against my hand. “I need you.”

No. She needs to realize who she is. She may want me, but she’s still confused and conflicted about the marriage of kink and sex. Hell, I’ve only let things go this far because of jealousy. Seeing Carey Clark’s unworthy hands touching her even a little bit was more than I could bear. I want this woman more than I’ve wanted anything in a very long time.

But she’s not ready.

I need to do what’s right for her because of the way I failed last time we slept together.

Her dark eyes dissolve my resolve to keep her at arm’s length.

Slowly, steadily, firmly, I press the pulsing toy into her, just the tip at first until she relaxes and urges me with her body to go deeper. I do, but not all the way. Some women don’t even know where their g-spot is, but it’s certainly not deep; it’s just inside, right
there
.

Her eyes widen then slam shut, a deep, earthy moan slipping from her mouth. I can’t not taste her a moment longer and bend to explore her clit with my tongue while buzzing her g-spot. She tastes gorgeous, and I want to lick her dry. When she starts tensing her hips, no longer able to keep a regular rhythm, I go slightly faster but keep everything steady.

Nothing is worse than a man who almost takes a woman there then tries to get fancy seconds before she comes, only to fuck up her orgasm with inconsistency.

Sharp pain skits across my scalp as Sloane grabs my hair and pulls, coming completely silently, with deep intensity, and it’s like watching a video of an atomic bomb with the sound muted. I slow down, licking her through the aftershocks, easing her back into herself, making sure she’s breathing deeply before removing the vibrator and turning it off. My cock throbs at how wet she is, but I wanted her to have a safe release, nothing more.

“Better?”

She smiles. “Mmmhmm. I’d be a lot better if you lost the clothes and came over here.”

I shake my head. “This was about you, Sloane.”

Her jaw tightens. “What?”

“This is all that will happen tonight. I know you think you’re ready for a full scene, a full experience between us, but you’re not. I see it in your eyes.” I sigh. “We both know you’re not there yet.”

“Are you serious? Christ, Darko, this wasn’t about kink or a goddamned scene.” She sits up and grabs her bra, putting it on before stepping into her dress. “I’m more than capable of flicking the bean myself. You didn’t have to bother if you didn’t want to have sex with me.” Her hands shake, but she’s dressed in under five seconds.

Shit. I’ve really stepped in it now. I only wanted her to know it’s not about me, that there’s no obligation for her to reciprocate. She isn’t ready for a full scene, but apparently that wasn’t what Sloane was going for. I just wanted to give her pleasure; I didn’t realize she was hoping for more. “No. Of course I want to. It was—”

Her posture is stiff. “I should go.”

“Sloane, look at me.” I narrowly beat her to the door. “You have the wrong idea. Talk to me.”

“Leave me alone. You should have just said no.”

“Sloane—”

She looks up, nothing but anger and pain in her eyes. “Bunnies.”

My stomach enters free-fall, disgust with myself swirling through me. I did not adequately prepare her, and worse, I made the wrong choice. She’s hurt and angry and no wonder. If it was possible to kick my own ass, I’d do it if it would make a difference. Instead, I move out of her way and don’t try to stop her as she walks down the hallway.

She’s safed out the only way she knows how and I need to honor that.

It doesn’t make me hate myself any less. I don’t know if I’ve done the right thing for the wrong reasons, or the wrong thing for the right reasons. Time will tell.

I close the door to my suite and sit on the bed, elbows propped on my knees, head in hands, tortured by the scent of her pleasure still lingering on my sheets. A moment later there’s a knock.

She came back. My heart lifts, expecting to see Sloane, quickly corrected by the small woman with a huge smile. “Milena. What are you doing here?”

“I know we said goodbye. But I saw her leave and thought maybe we could have a goodbye scene for old times’ sake?” She smiles and stretches her arms over her head. “I’ve been very bad today. Just in case you needed me to be.”

Affection warms my heart, and I pull her close and stroke her hair. “You are a delightful creature. But I am fine.” I’m not fine, but I can’t even think about topping Milena. Not after Sloane safed out. Not after Sloane.

“I miss you already, Sir.”

I give her a squeeze and drop a kiss to the top of her head. She feels even tinier now that Sloane’s body has been stamped into my mind. “I know you do. But it’s for the best.”

She steps back and sighs. “Alone again. All dressed up and no one to fuck.”

“Actually, I know someone who would be very interested if you were to knock on his door. He’s been dying to get his crop on you for years.”

Her eyes light up. “Who?”

She scurries off with the directions to Carey Clark’s room, and I close the door behind her. I don’t want Carey touching Sloane because his type of topping is not good for her. She doesn’t need pain or humiliation. She’s had enough of that in her life.

Milena and Carey’s styles are more compatible. He will get her off, dominate her in ways she loves best, a little pain with a lot of humiliation. And Milena gives back just as much pleasure as she takes. Might make the bastard a little more likeable.

My room seems cold and dark after sharing so much warmth with Sloane. Black, charcoal, and red, the design scheme in here is less fresh and more dramatic than her bedroom, but it’s never felt inadequate until now. There’s really nothing more I can do except give her space and then try to bridge the chasm between us.

My shirt now smells like Milena instead of Sloane. I take it off and head for the bathroom. The water takes no time to heat up; even here, Reiley spared no expense with the luxuries.

I brace myself, feet parted wide, hands resting at shoulder height on the wall, embracing the heat. The glass doors fog within seconds; hot rivulets of water fall from above, running down my body to meet more streams of water shot from jets in the wall at my stomach and back, trickling down my ass, dripping from my cock.

After washing and rinsing my hair, I squeeze body wash onto a puff and scrub at my skin slightly too hard, trying to focus on anything other than the image of Sloane Winters naked, moaning and smiling up at me from the bed. I trail a hand down my abs, remembering how soft the skin of her thighs was, and cup my balls, lost in the memory of how it felt when it was her hand wrapped around my cock, stroking me from root to tip.

Here, in the hot, wet, darkened closet of water, safe in a fantasy, I allow myself to take it further than I dared, and imagine all the things I’d have done to her, with her, had it not been for the sliver of doubt in her eyes. Christ, if I could, I’d still be suckling her clit, making her drip that sweet juice all over herself and the bed, soaking the sheets as she came again, and again, fucking her with my mouth while my name was screamed from hers.

Pumping furiously with my right hand, I lightly rub and gently squeeze my sac with my left, leaning back against the wall, supporting myself as my knees weaken with want for the fucking glorious woman.

I want her eyes wide, looking into mine and seeing me while I bury myself balls deep into that hot, tight pussy, so she knows who’s brought her to those dizzying heights. So she knows she’s mine, and I’m hers, in that moment and beyond it. But it has to be more than a physical release between us. More than that, she needs to trust herself that she’s making the right decision, otherwise she will drown in indecision and regret, tainting the relationship.

Squeezing harder as I stroke, my balls tighten painfully as a deep orgasm lashes through my belly, making my cock twitch as I come. Easing off, I thrust my hips a few times, riding through the aftershocks, hovering just over the edge for a moment before my breathing returns to normal.

It brings me release but no pleasure. Not when it’s my hand on my cock and not hers. Not coming into thin air instead of inside her quivering pussy.

I clean up, turn the shower off, and wrap a towel around my hips.

Even if she forgives me and continues with her training, I doubt I’m the man, the Dom, for her. Even if she is the only one I could see myself collaring, the timing couldn’t be worse. Expressing anything would distract her from training—if she wants to continue—regardless of whether or not she returned my sentiments and that would be unfair to do to her.

Milena was right about my walls. But how do I let Sloane in? Too many battle scars. Too much baggage. And yet, I want her to be mine. I want to be hers. I want to let her in, but now I’ve fucked it up. Even though it wasn’t outright rejection, the result is the same. She needed to leave, and I have to let her come to me when she’s ready. If she returns.

You can still win her back.

God, I hope so.

Drifting through the steam, I press my hand to the mirror, feeling very much like a ghost of a man, yearning to connect with a life I’ll never have.