Slice of Pi 2 (18 page)

Owen paused. “Yes, but . . . I'd rather wait to come.”

Iris's mouth dropped open. “Really?”

He nodded. “I like when you make me wait.”

Iris felt flabbergasted. She never expected that. “Okay, then.”

Owen smiled. “I mean, I want to come, but it turns me on to wait a little longer. Not too much longer,” he amended quickly. He sat next to her. “Can I take these off now?”

“Sure.” Smiling, Iris knelt to unfasten the cuffs around his ankles while he took care of the ones on his wrists. When she sat next to him, he was already looking at her, his expression no longer the mindless adoration of a sub, but something else. Warm, open, yet not subservient. She looked to his lips, which were soft and inviting, and leaned over to kiss him.

Like last time, this kiss began tamely. And like last time, it escalated quickly. Iris wasn't normally a “kissing” kind of person. But then Owen kissed her back, his hand coming up to cup the side of her face, and she opened her mouth beneath his. He easily took the lead on the kiss, brushing his tongue against hers, kissing with a confident precision that made Iris melt. She made a noise, something like a moan, and pressed herself against him. The touch of his skin reminded her that they were both naked, that this was not the kind of intimacy she should encourage, and she pulled back quickly as if stung.

Owen was left looking at her intently. “You all right?”

“Yes. Fine. I was just . . .” Iris was breathless, and she wanted to be less naked all of a sudden. She started pulling on her clothes with a clumsy haste. Owen was the picture of calm watching her. Iris felt something uncomfortable in her throat, a prickling emotion like fear, and she couldn't identify its source. There was nothing to be afraid of, here. She was with Owen. He wasn't going to hurt her.

Well, not on purpose. Not unless she fell for him and he realized she had too much emotional crap for him to deal with. Not unless she gave up and ran when things weren't working perfectly. Not unless they tried to get serious and realized kink alone was not enough to sustain a relationship.

He was still watching her, his expression now one of concern. “You were just what?” He probed the unfinished sentence.

“Just thinking I was hungry and wanted something to eat.” She smiled, but it felt tight on her face. “You want to get a pizza?”

She was prepared for some kind of teasing comment about ordering pizza, but he didn't push it. “Sure.” He got up and started getting dressed.

---

When Owen went into the living room, still concerned about why Iris had most definitely freaked out on him, she was set up on the couch with the delivery menus spread out around her, studying them intently. Too intently, as if she had something else she was desperate to get off her mind.

“Mind if I get some water?” He pointed to the kitchen.

“Oh, shoot, I should be doing that for you.” She jumped to her feet.

He waved her down. “It's okay. I can get my own water.”

She sank back down on the sofa and picked up her phone. “Brita's in the fridge. No onions or mushrooms?”

“You got it.” He was surprised and flattered she remembered his preferences. He filled his glass, drank it, and then refilled it. His whole body felt tingly and warm and suffused with a happy glow. The scene was wearing off and becoming just another memory, but he felt good about it even though he hadn't really come. Ruined orgasms were something he'd read about but never experienced, and damn but they were a wonderful sort of torture.

She called and ordered a large pepperoni pizza with peppers, then hung up the call and stared at the phone.

He sank down next to her. He could see her nerves in the tightness around her eyes, the way she was rubbing the hem of her shirt between her fingers. Tension radiated off her body, even while he felt the clear calmness that came after a session. The more he studied her, the more he could pick up on her unhappiness. He turned toward her. “Iris, what's wrong?”

Iris opened her mouth and then closed it again, her body sagging. “I don't know. I just freaked out there a little.”

“You know Domme drop is a thing, right?” In Iris's discomfort, Owen found a need to protect and take care of her. Moving slowly, casually, he put one hand on her back and began to rub in soft, large circles. “Is this all right?”

Iris drooped, the tension beginning to drain from her. “Yes, that's great. Thank you. I'm not dropping. At least, I don't think so. I just got caught up in the moment.”

“Come here. Lie down.” Owen scooted off the couch and patted the cushion, gesturing for her to spread out. With a wary look and a raised eyebrow, Iris complied, stretching herself out on her belly and resting her head on her arms. Owen knelt on the floor next to her and began stroking her back in long, smooth motions. Iris's eyelids fluttered closed and she sighed, a long exhale slipping from between her soft parted lips. Owen stroked her hair with one hand, brushing it back from her face and then running his fingers through it, combing over her scalp and down her neck. With his other hand, he rubbed large circles into the fabric of her shirt. When she murmured her approval, he began to massage her back, his thumbs kneading circles into her tight muscles.

“Mmm, s'good.” She didn't open her eyes but shifted to get more comfortable. “Where'd you learn this?”

“I make a lot of bread.”

Iris's back twitched with her laughter. “So you're treating me like a loaf of bread?” She blinked one eye open, peering up at him through heavy lashes.

“Yup. My little Iris loaf.” He kept stroking her. There was nothing sexual in this act, but the intimacy made him feel as content as sex did. He hadn't felt any emotional intimacy between them during sex, but in the moments that followed, he could swear they skirted into relationship territory.

He wanted to kiss her again. She looked so sweet and vulnerable like this, no longer the hard-edged Domme who tied him up and tortured him in the bedroom, showing no mercy. Her lips were parted and damp, her face young-looking without makeup, lashes dark against the pale skin of her cheek. Pausing in his massage, he leaned down to brush a kiss across her temple. Sweet and gentle, nothing sexual, just a tender brush of lips. She made a little noise of pleasure and smiled, her lips twitching just enough for him to notice. He placed another kiss farther down, on her cheek, and she tipped her face toward him without complaint. His last kiss fell on her lips.

She didn't kiss back at first. But when he drew back, she followed him, lifting her mouth to meet his again. When she did, she parted her lips and opened to him, rolling up onto her side to gain better access. Her mouth tasted warm and sweet. She made no noise, not of contentment or dismay, just kissed him back with lazy tenderness and brushed her tongue with his.

Iris drew back first, as she always did, closing her lips and moving her head away. Her eyes, when she opened them, were vulnerable. “I've got to stop kissing you.”

It wasn't what he expected her to say. “Why?”

“When I kiss you, I want more than what we have.” She shook her head.

Owen's heart felt like it had moved from his chest to his throat. This was getting complicated. More variables were in play than he could name, and yet he was surprised how much he wanted her.

Wanted her, or wanted what they had? He might just want the dominance. Iris and BDSM were intertwined enough in his mind that he couldn't honestly separate them. He decided to probe a little more. “Is that a bad thing?”

Iris propped herself up on one elbow on the couch, blond hair spilling over her cheek as she lifted her head. “I think it's a bad thing, yes. I'm not relationship material, Owen.”

Now that was interesting. “Who told you that? I thought you just didn't want the complications.”

Iris didn't answer, but she shook her head. “Never mind.” Averting her eyes, she pushed up to a sitting position. Her lips pursed in concentration, and she tucked a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. “I don't really want to talk about it.”

“All right.” Owen touched her arm reassuringly. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. We don't have to do anything you don't want to do.”

“No, I'm not uncomfortable. It's just that I think things might get confused if we start . . . being like this afterward. With the massaging and the kissing and all of that.” Iris rubbed both palms over her thighs. She sounded like she was convincing herself instead of him.

“Right.” He wasn't sure exactly where she was coming from, but he knew enough to let her have her space to figure things out. He needed to defuse the tension. “So, do you have any good movies?”

They ended up watching
Hellraiser
because it was on television and they both apparently had a huge fixation on it when they were younger, and since it was almost Halloween, the movie seemed fitting. They scarfed down some truly amazing pizza, although Owen would have eaten anything at that point, he'd worked up such an appetite. They were just two friends having a nice evening together.

At the end of the night, though, when he was starting to yawn from his impending early bedtime, Iris said goodbye to him at the door with none of her discomfort or tension from earlier. Either she felt better or she was working to hide it. He hoped it was the former.

“I'm free tomorrow if you want to come over.” Iris sounded nonchalant, but he could see eagerness in her eyes.

“Tomorrow?” Yes, he definitely wanted to come over tomorrow, but she'd said she was confused about the dynamics of their relationship. Space was probably better, even a day or two of space. “I've got some things to do after work. What about Tuesday night instead?”

She nodded, her expression a little disappointed. God, she was apparently the queen of mixed messages. “Tuesday's great. Come by around six?”

“Sure.” He could make it until then.

Iris smiled broadly. “Okay. Tuesday it is.”

12 

Iris read over her
email draft one more time to make sure she'd met all the portfolio specs for Caleb's freelancer request. In addition to posting the position publicly, he'd created an internal posting as well, since apparently it was common practice for the art team to take on these gigs as side jobs. She'd filled out enough payroll that she knew this happened quite often. Despite these postings coming through a couple of times a year, though, this was the first time she'd applied. When she had checked and double-checked everything, she sent the link to her digital portfolio along with a short email to Caleb. Once it was sent, she breathed out shakily and turned back to her work.

It had only been a few days since she'd seen Owen, but she was surprised at the degree to which she missed him. Maybe she was just desperate for human contact and affection, having spent plenty of solitary hours over the past couple of days finishing up the portfolio. Either way, she was glad it was finally Tuesday, since she was looking forward to tonight more than she wanted to admit. She'd only had a few sessions with Owen and she was eager to do more, to try out the new toys, and even to hang out with him afterward. The in-between times, the parts with the kissing and the postscene intimacy, those parts were the confusing parts. When they had kinky sex in the bedroom, they felt like Domme and sub. Hanging out and eating pizza, they felt like good friends. But in between, when he kissed like he could drown in her—when he brushed his fingertips over her skin and stared deeply into her eyes—those were the moments that made her tremble, the moments she realized she was in way over her head.

When Iris felt overwhelmed, she liked to organize, so she spent the morning clearing out old digital files and then doing a self-audit on their paperwork. Her system was perfect. She loved having every document itemized and accounted for, every
t
crossed and
i
dotted, and the process of maintaining this system was like a balm for her nervous soul. By the time lunch rolled around, she felt more grounded and less jittery.

Iris was about to take a break to pop out and get some food when Caleb walked through the open door of the office, a puzzled look on his face. “Hey. You got a minute?”

“Sure.” Iris felt her heart rate quicken, but took a deep breath and let it out. This wasn't necessarily about the portfolio. This could be about anything. She was, after all, the human resources manager, and the staff frequently had questions for her about everything from payroll to maternity leave.

“You really applied for this freelance gig?” Caleb scratched his bearded jaw.

Faced with that question, Iris's impulse was to laugh it off. Old doubts came flooding back, questions about her skill, her right to even attempt art when she was only a hobbyist. She faced these doubts when she considered pursuing the degree in college, when she vacillated about hanging her work on her own wall, even when she invested in a drawing tablet for the computer. Still, the impulse to deny faded quickly. With Owen, she'd had to learn to take control and channel this part of herself that she frequently denied. She could do that here. “I did. I really applied.” She smiled, and even though her smile felt tight, she was more excited than nervous. Even if someone else got the job—which was likely, of course, since she was going up against experienced people—she had taken a step forward.

Caleb returned her smile. “I've gotta be honest, Iris, I didn't even know you drew. This came as a total surprise.”

“Most people don't know. I've never done it as more than a hobby.” She had to stop herself from fiddling with the office supplies on her desk. “I would love to do it more seriously, and I thought my style would fit this game idea, so I figured I would apply.”

“Well, I'm really glad you did. I haven't made any decisions yet, but I'll have more information for you soon.” With a smile, he ducked out of her office and continued heading down the hall.

His words brought a rush of affirmation. He didn't make fun of her work, or tell her she shouldn't have applied, or that her art wasn't of the caliber he would need for this project. Even being considered felt like an honor. She returned to her paperwork with a new undercurrent of giddiness.

Her gaze landed on her cell phone lying on her desk, and suddenly Iris was struck with an idea. Maybe this afternoon she'd tease Owen a little bit from afar.

---

Owen stared down at his phone in disbelief. On the screen was a picture of Iris's full, round breasts spilling out of a sheer lacy bra. She'd taken the photo in a bathroom, from the looks of things, and based on the fact that it was only two o'clock, she'd taken it at work. Naughty behavior from the HR manager of a company, to be sure, but he was ten times as twitchy now. He wanted to get his hands and mouth on those breasts immediately. He was distracted for the rest of his shift, and that distraction wasn't relieved by the text she sent an hour later, when he was just locking up the shop.

Put your plug in half an hour before you come over. Make sure it's in when you arrive.

He'd never gone out while wearing his plug. It was the kind of illicit play he'd never done but had always been intrigued by. He was excited and anxious about the prospect. Iris was turning out to be more creative about this sort of play than he'd anticipated, and she was stretching his expectations in delightful and exhilarating ways.

With a few hours at home before he was scheduled to go over to her apartment, he had plenty of time to think about her breasts and the torturous fun of wearing the plug. His erection strained the confines of his jeans. He had to think of something else if he was going to get through the day.

He ended up cleaning his entire apartment and then downloading a game from PI Games onto his laptop. While he'd never done much gaming before, Iris was into it, and he was curious. It turned out to be the perfect distraction to survive his afternoon.

After dinner, half an hour before he needed to leave for Iris's house, he went into the bedroom to get his plug. His erection was already taking interest as he lubed himself and the toy, and the pressure against his hole made him rock-hard. When the plug was firmly seated, the round base pressed tight against his body to hold the toy in place. He sat for a few minutes trying to regain his composure, half dressed, dying to stroke his aching cock. Instead, he pulled his clothes back on and splashed some cold water on his face. He had to pull himself together to drive over to her house.

The drive itself was torturous. Every bump pressed the plug deeper into him, reminding him what he was doing and why. He hadn't heard from her at all since that text, either, so he was left to imagine what she was thinking.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, he got another text from her. After parking the car in front of her apartment building, he checked his phone.

Take the stairs.

He smiled. Oh, Iris. She certainly knew how to drive him crazy.

He had to climb the stairs very slowly. Every step made the plug shift in his ass and pressed his cock uncomfortably against his jeans. Four fucking flights of stairs, too. He stayed erect and throbbing for the entire climb up the stairs. By the time he got to the fourth floor, he could feel his heartbeat in his dick, and that was without even touching himself. Whatever she wanted, he was game.

She opened the door in lingerie, and holy hell, wow. He'd never seen her in lingerie. Business suit, yes, casual clothes, yes, naked, yes, but this black lace fitted something-or-other was a new level of sexy. He groaned out loud, making her smile even wider.

“Come inside.” She shut the door behind him.

“I can't believe you.” He couldn't stop grinning, despite his words.

She smiled back briefly, but then was all Domme again. “Take off your clothes right here. I want to see how desperate you are for me.”

Owen obeyed, toeing off his shoes and socks, then stripping out of his jeans and T-shirt, and finally his boxer briefs. Iris stared down at his cock and licked her lips.

“Look at you.” Reaching out, she cupped his balls in her hand, the contact making him groan. Iris focused on his cock and continued fondling him. “How does it feel when I touch you?”

“God, it feels good. So good.” His voice sounded strangled in his throat. He had to close his eyes and reach out to steady himself on the wall, because his knees had gone weak when she touched him.

“Poor dear. It hasn't been that long, and you're already this desperate?”

Owen opened his eyes and raised one eyebrow. “It's been over a week.”

“That's not true. You had release on Saturday.” She put her hands on her hips.

Oh, his ruined orgasm. So that was how they were going to play it. He smirked. “Yes, Miss.”

“I like seeing you desperate. Come into the bedroom.” She led the way, crooking her finger over her shoulder to beckon him forward, and he followed as if being led on a leash. Oh, a leash. He might like a leash, if he ever had a collar, and imagining Iris collaring him did nothing to alleviate his arousal. Every step he took reminded him of the butt plug nestled snugly in his ass, stimulating him, and even though he wanted to keep his cool, he was getting more needy and less controlled with each passing step.

Iris sat down on the bed, her negligee leaving little to the imagination, its pattern of lace completely transparent. He couldn't look away from it. Right then, he couldn't imagine that any woman could be more beautiful. He wanted to lay her down and worship her with his hands and mouth, make her realize how incredible she was. The feeling overwhelmed him. He had to suppress the desire, though, because that was too much, too intimate. He would obey orders.

“I've been thinking about how nice it feels when you fuck me.” She lay back, parting her legs to run her fingers between her thighs and over her slick, wet folds. His cock pulsed with his heartbeat as he watched her fingers brushing delicate circles over her clit. “I'd like to have you fuck me, but I'm worried you might make a mess everywhere.” She reached over to the nightstand and held up a condom along with the cock ring they'd purchased on Saturday. “These should help.”

Owen groaned like the air was punched out of him. Fucking her, slipping into that tight hot sheath, knowing he wasn't allowed to come? He wasn't sure he could bear it. Just the thought of her muscles squeezing along his length had him squirming.

“Such a good boy,” Iris said as he began to roll the condom over his erection. The snug grip of latex was nearly unbearable, a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. He'd never thought of condoms as erotic in their own right, only for their association with sex, but the smooth slide of the material over his dick felt like a religious experience after so long without a real orgasm.

When his dick was fully sheathed, he wrapped the leather strap around the base, back behind his balls, and snapped it into place. It had a separate strap for around the top of his sac. The combined effect was restricting and arousing. While he could most likely come wearing this, it would seriously delay his orgasm. The restricted blood flow was making him harder than ever.

“Don't you look nice. I'm so glad I'm going to feel you fucking me.” Iris lay back down and shifted into position, keeping her negligee on but spreading her legs invitingly. Owen took a step forward, felt the plug shift, and stopped short.

“What's wrong?” She pushed up to her elbows. “Are you all right?”

Maybe she had forgotten. “I'm . . . still wearing the plug.”

Iris smiled wickedly. “I know.”

“You want me to keep it in?” God, now he
really
didn't know if he could last. Already he felt the shimmering rush of pleasure in his gut, his balls drawing as tight as the strap would allow.

“Yes, I do. It would please me so much. Don't you want to please me?” She batted her eyelashes at him, and yes, he would do anything for this woman.

“Yes, Miss. Very much.” Not prolonging the wait any longer, Owen got onto the bed. He climbed gingerly between Iris's legs and slid carefully into place, his cock rubbing at her entrance. Deep breath, then he pushed all the way into her.

Her moan caught in her throat as she threw her head back. Owen could barely pay attention to her, since he was so focused on holding back his own orgasm that he had little mind for anything else. At this angle, the plug stimulated him even more than he knew was possible. Gritting his teeth, he began to move inside her.

Iris gave small mewling noises with each thrust. Even with her helpless body language and closed eyes, Owen felt completely submissive, driven by the will to please her even more than his body's own inexorable urges. He wanted to come, yes, but he wanted to please her even more. He tried to angle his thrusts to rub against her clit with the base of his cock, but he couldn't tell how successful he was, couldn't tell much other than the
hot wet good
feeling of her pussy snug around his whole length.