Tell Me No Lies (8 page)

Only then did she realize the screaming, sobbing sound was
her own, and this new pain was hers too. Not Jake’s doing, but hers. Her face
was pressed into the bed, and the mask had shifted at some point. She could see
a band of light under one side, too bright, another source of agony. Then a tug
and release on her nipples as the clamps were removed, and a fresh jolt of
misery as those nerve endings too sang out in pain.

Warm hands moved her body, coaxing her to lie on her side.
Big, gentle hands. Soft lips pressing into her hair, against her shoulders, as
those hands pulled her into a careful embrace.

Jake
.

She hadn’t cried in years. Not at movies, weddings or
funerals, definitely not over breakups. Hadn’t been able to, though she’d
turned it into a point of pride in her mind. Decided it was simply her
inclination, her predilection. Not sentimental, not
that
kind of girl,
not Tess. She called it weakness, to give in to tears.

But this was something past strength and weakness, something
she couldn’t even understand. Pain, pure and horrible, far worse than anything
Jake had done to her body.

But it was pain pouring
out
of her, she realized
gradually. As though Jake had lanced some soul-deep, festering wound she’d
learned to ignore.

After a span of time, during which she thought she was
probably going to die if she didn’t stop, her sobs finally hitched, then eased.
She became aware of other things. The wet, itchy mask over her face, the patch
of tears and probably worse soaking into the bed beneath the uncovered portion
of her cheek. Jake’s body, spooned around her tightly, his arms wrapping hers,
his hands enclosing her fists. His cheek resting against her hair.

She felt sick but curiously light at the same time. Clean,
but also aching. Empty.

Pressing another kiss to her shoulder, Jake moved off the
bed. “I’m going for some tissue. I’ll be right back.”

His voice sounded funny. Tight, and full of some emotion
Tess couldn’t identify. And losing his touch, even for a moment, was too much
to bear. He sounded full of something he needed to free himself of. And she was
so empty. A perfect vessel.

With a soft moan at the pain, Tess rolled to her stomach
again and pushed her hips back into the air, shaky but determined. She heard
Jake’s sharp breath, his footsteps halting. Returning.

She thought he would talk to her, try to talk sense into
her, refuse her. But he only brushed one hand over her burning skin, a
delicate, torturous caress. From one hip to the other then down the back of one
thigh. It hurt, but it aroused her too, turning her yearning into an
all-encompassing need for him to finish what he’d started.

He took the straps off her ankles and moved away, and for a
moment Tess’ heart sank. She nearly started crying again at the thought that it
was over. But then he came back to her and pressed his hands between her
thighs, spreading her wider. Moved up and spread her cheeks, making her wince
as he pressed against her beaten backside. And then onward, to twist the plug
free.

When Jake’s other hand found her clit, stroking gently
against the swollen flesh, Tess’ desire rushed back to remind her of Jake’s
earlier teasing. She felt flush with it, instantly ripe and ready. A vacancy
that only Jake could fill. Pussy, ass, she no longer cared. The pain was
irrelevant. She needed him inside her, all over her, violating her boundaries
until they merged. Making her his.

The crinkle of the condom wrapper and another cool swipe of
lube over her ass were his only statements of intent. The head of his cock
pressed for entry and all Tess could think as he pushed past her resistance was
yes, yes, yes
even though it felt like nothing she’d ever imagined. A
burn, a hum, every jangled nerve in her body being strummed, Jake playing her
like a guitar, in some tune only he knew.

His fingers found her clit again, and she bucked as pleasure
shot through her. Her ass ached, inside and out, her legs were shaking, the
whole thing was madness. But Jake was moving now, fucking her in slow, steady
strokes, and even if she
had
been talking she would have had no words
for what this felt like. She was at the edge, straining for the orgasm she
could almost reach, lacking the strength to move close enough to grasp it.

“You’re so close, kitten. I can feel it. Your ass is
squeezing even tighter on my cock. It’s gonna feel so fucking good when you
come for me.” He leaned forward and scooped her hair into his free hand,
tugging her head up as he increased the pressure of his fingers below. “Do it.
Now. Come for me, Tess.”

She let herself fall over the edge, shattering, the climax
ripping her to shreds, breaking her down until nothing was left but pleasure
and pain and Jake’s relentless motion. And then, as she thought she was
reassembling herself, another peak pulled from her by his fingers and cock,
like dark magic. Tearing away whatever was left of her sanity and drowning it
in bliss.

Jake cursed, swelling and shuddering and fucking into her
harder until finally, finally, they were both wrung dry.

Chapter Seven

Tess slept, and he let her, though he worried she might
sleep straight through dinner if he didn’t wake her up at some point. She
hadn’t seemed shocky, just exhausted. She’d barely roused when he’d cleaned her
up, even when he’d disinfected and bandaged the bite on her hand. Jake wondered
if she’d been missing sleep too, along with meals. She needed food and to
rehydrate, at the very least.

He flicked the oven light on, checking the progress of his
lasagna. Tried not to let himself think too hard. But it slammed back into him
when he moved to the cabinet, planning to set the table. He had to press his
palms to the counter, take a deep breath to steady himself.

She was already cracked, and you picked up a hammer and
shattered her
.

All these years, fantasizing about the Tess he wanted,
watching the Tess he knew grow less and less like that girl. He’d always reined
himself in, because that was what he was all about. Jake might be the master of
discipline, but it had always started with—been primarily about—
self
-discipline.

When he’d lost that, he’d lost it spectacularly. Letting one
of his oldest friends get under his skin, bringing an inexperienced, vanilla
girl home for a scene on the basis of a
dare
. Pushing her so hard,
convincing himself she could take more and more because it was just so damn
sweet to see Tess bend to his hand like the submissive he’d always wanted her
to be.

Like a dream come true.

Like a damn middle-school kid trying to get to second
base. That much finesse
.

When she broke, nearly choking on sobs, he’d panicked at the
intensity. Unexpected—though he
should
have expected it, he saw now in
the clear light of post-coital self-recrimination—and unlike any
subspace-triggered catharsis he’d ever seen. So much worse, so horrible, like
the pain would tear her apart. And not even the pain he’d meant to bring. It
hadn’t been his intent to drive her to that. It had all gotten out of his
control.

Even the most experienced Dom knew that things happen,
mistakes are made, events don’t always go according to plan. Knowing that stuff
was the
point
of all that experience, learning the things that might
happen despite your best efforts. But he’d never had something go so far beyond
his expected parameters before.

It was never Tess before
.

What had he done to her? What made him think she was ready
for something like this? Something intense, painful, emotional. As if Tess
didn’t already have enough of that going on. And why hadn’t he been able to
resist her when she’d rolled back over and offered herself again? He’d already
decided to quit the scene at that point. Not even consciously decided, so much
as he simply knew it had to be over, needed to end because she was suffering in
all the wrong ways. He knew that stopping was the right thing to do.

But the sight of that virgin ass presented for his use,
still reddened from his hand and more, bruises starting to rise here and
there…already marked, and ready to be claimed as
his
. Offered to him
like a challenge. A counter-dare, almost. A plea, that needy sound she’d made.
And it was
Tess
.

Jake’s cock stirred at the memory, and he pushed away from
the counter with an angry growl, disgusted with himself.

The way he’d acted today, he had no business claiming
anybody. No business trying to be anybody’s Master. He’d let his dick make the
decisions, Tess had paid the price, and he had no idea how he would make it
right.

A creaking floorboard alerted him, and he turned to see Tess
in the archway between the kitchen and the living room. Her eyes were still red
and her hair was a disaster. Pale, fraught hands twined together in front of
her belly. On her naked skin, Jake could see the marks he’d left earlier, a
story of their scene recorded in faint bruises and the scarlet rash of broken
capillaries.

Beautiful.
His
. His hindbrain staked the claim,
ignoring his attempts to rationalize.

Her gaze flicked to his for a second, no more. Before he
could think what to say, she crossed the four or five steps to stand in front
of him—then knelt at his feet, hands on her thighs with the palms turned up.
Graceful, despite the lingering pain she must feel. She was a natural at this,
he observed again.

Jake told himself to raise her up, put some clothes on her,
make her talk to him about what had happened. Objectively, he knew those were
the right things to do. He’d fucked up, and she
was
fucked up, and no
good would come of delaying the debriefing that had to happen.

But he’d wanted this for too long. Wanted this to be the
thing she needed. Tess,
his
Tess, giving herself up to him. All he
wanted to do was take care of her, nurse her back to health, groom her until
her former luster was restored, love her into well-being.

People aren’t stray animals
, he thought.

She reached out a hand, wrapping her fingers very lightly
around the fabric of one hem of his pants legs, stroking the frayed denim as if
eager to get even that fraction closer.

That undid him. He brought his hands to her hair, stroking
the dark strands, allowing her to lean into him. Her sigh echoed his as they
both unwound, relaxing into that touch.

Then the oven timer went off and they both jumped.

Chuckling, Jake gave a final caress to Tess’ head and headed
for the oven. “You can set the table. Dishes up there, forks and stuff in the
drawer over there.”

She did it all silently, finding napkins on her own, filling
two glasses with ice water and adding them to the setting while Jake tossed a
salad. He thought he’d find Tess’ silent treatment grating after a while, but
it was somehow soothing to have her there, not arguing, working alongside him
as though they’d done this a million times.

Still, it couldn’t continue indefinitely.

“You know, you’ve more than beaten the dare,” he pointed out
when they had both passed the initial stages of absorbed appreciation of the
lasagna. “You could talk now. Hell, you could even put clothes on. Not that I’m
complaining.”

She glanced at him, a smile gracing the corners of her mouth
but not reaching her tired eyes. After a moment she shook her head, seeming to
draw in on herself. All her quiet poise of the last few minutes evaporated, to
Jake’s dismay.

He was aware of the irony that he wasn’t sure of her
meaning, when he’d been the one to claim she didn’t need to rely on words so
much. Did she feel she hadn’t satisfied whatever terms were involved in the
dare, and was her understanding of those terms so fundamentally different from
his? Or was she simply happy with not talking awhile longer, conducting an
experiment as he’d suggested? Without a game of twenty questions he wasn’t sure
how to get at the answer. Tess didn’t look all that happy. She looked pensive
and hesitant, but at the same time more herself than she had that morning. He
could easily see her skipping stones, wishing on stars.

It was a distracting vision but the reality was even more
distracting, and after a large helping of lasagna and a few bites of salad,
Jake abandoned his dinner in favor of watching Tess finish hers. She was naked,
after all, and too temptingly close to ignore. And she was finally eating with
a gusto that belied her otherwise melancholy expression.

“That’s the secret, I guess. Make you work up an appetite.”

She offered him another brief smile, this one verging on
puckish.

“So you want to watch a movie or something?” He rose to
clear the table and she followed suit, more of that charming domestic accord
he’d never thought to wish for. “Scary or funny?”

* * * * *

They wound up picking a comedy, after a round of mutually
amusing nonverbal negotiations. Tess was being perverse now, seeing how long
she could keep up the silence before Jake finally got tired enough of it to
demand she speak. She thought maybe she should be irked that he hadn’t already
reached that point. Was she only appealing when she kept her mouth shut?

Curled up on the squashy leather sectional in his basement
den, snuggled under Jake’s arm and wrapped in a blanket that smelled of his
house, she decided she didn’t care. However she had to behave to sustain this
for even one night, she’d do it. Because she fit there, next to him, under him,
and it all felt like she thought home might feel, if home hadn’t become so
imbued with bad feelings after her mother died.

If she didn’t talk, she couldn’t put her foot in her mouth
and screw everything up. Given time, she figured she’d find a way to do that
even without words, but so far her speak-no-evil tactic was working.

They laughed in the same places, like they always had. So
many times over the years they’d caught one another’s eye at a movie theater,
seeking that connection even if it meant peering over a group of friends. Those
had been isolated moments though, easily explained away by long friendship and
shared history. Now it was only the two of them, and the shared glances turned
to fondling, to kissing and eventually to missing the end of the movie in favor
of making out on the couch like a pair of horny teenagers.

Jake’s voice was muffled, his lips brushing between her
breasts. “I knew there was a reason I should be making you sit at my feet. Now
I’ll never know how it turns out.”

Tess pulled away, sliding partially out from under him to
reach for the remote that sat on the end table. She hit “reverse” and stuck her
tongue out at Jake, who backed off with a mock ominous scowl.

“You did
not
just handle the remote without my
express, lordly permission.”

She grinned. He was cute when he poked fun at himself.

“I’d say you were cruising for a bruising, but since I’ve
already given you one of those…wait here, I’ll be a few minutes.”

He leapt off the couch and took the basement stairs a few at
a time, hurtling out of sight before Tess knew what was what. She heard his
footsteps thumping all the way upstairs, then indeterminate knockings and
rustlings that went on for some time.

By the time Jake clomped back down the basement steps, Tess
was sitting backward on the couch, chin propped on the back as she stared at
the steps, waiting for him to re-appear. He was carrying a big plastic storage
bin, and the cords in his neck and forearms strained at the weight. The thing
clanked when he put it down on the tile floor by his home gym, an ungainly open
cube of steel framework that occupied one corner of the rambling converted
basement. It was right next to the guest room door, but she hadn’t paid much
attention to it on her visit to borrow the shower, other than to wonder if Jake
actually used the thing.

Now Tess eyed it with growing suspicion.

Time for a workout?
It seemed an unlikely choice. She
watched Jake shove the black vinyl-covered bench and the big weights out of the
way and start removing equipment from the bin, stuff that seemed to be
attachments for the gym. Extra supports, something that looked like a cross
brace. Heavy rings on clip hooks that fit perfectly into the holes perforating
the framework at regular intervals. An oddly shaped vertical strut, hip height
or so, that Jake secured into place in a bracket halfway between the two front
uprights of the cube.

When he returned to the bin, his body no longer obscured the
view.

Tess took one look at the shiny red phallus on the end of
the newly added upright and gasped, vaulting the back of the sectional and
bolting for the stairs.

Not too fast though. She was registering concern, not making
a bid for freedom. Jake caught her easily and swung her over his shoulder,
carefully avoiding the tender marks on the backs of her legs as he brought her
to the gym and shackled her wrists and ankles to one side of the frame with a
set of well-padded leather cuffs.

“Now
stay
there. These things can’t be rushed.”

Fascinated, and unable to even pretend she wasn’t curious,
she watched him rig the rest of the setup. There were two more rings on clips
close to the floor—for the ankle cuffs, presumably—and some sort of crossbar
arrangement at hip height or so, with a bracket. It looked like a horizontal
microphone stand, with adjustability in several directions.

That is no microphone
.

It was a vibrator, a big one, and Tess relaxed at the sight
of it. Whatever this was, it would obviously involve her getting off, and Jake
had said he wouldn’t be adding to her collection of bruises, so how bad could
it be?

The egg timer should have been a clue.