Raw and Broken Ch. 06

My eyes caught the wheel on the wall again. I suddenly felt like I was in uncharted territory without a life preserver. No compass to guide me. I'd been with two men in serious relationships, and they'd both ended terribly. That didn't mean this one had to. Yet it didn't make me any less scared of taking the plunge. And Stefan had never said anything about long-term. He just wanted to fuck.

Maybe that was the problem. I didn't want just a roll in the hay...or on the captain's bed, as it was. I wanted something more substantial.

"Daphne?"

I blinked and looked up into his eyes. His beautiful, blue eyes. I'd never realized how bright they were before. "I'm sorry, you caught me off-guard."

"We don't have to." His voice was so soft, but I heard the disappointment in it.

"It's not that. I want to. I just don't know—"

"What?"

I broke our gaze and took a deep breath. "I'm afraid."

"Of me?" He rolled onto his back, as if I'd pushed him away.

I was going to tell him to forget it despite my own increasing disappointment. But suddenly, something Becca's psychiatrist had told me echoed in my head. Although her ways had been unconventional, she'd still given good advice. That I needed to be honest with people, especially at a time like this. Stefan could kick me out of the house and walk away as a result. But that was his choice. He deserved to know what he was getting into, for however long it was.

So I swallowed the small knot that was forming in my throat and sat up, Indian-style. He watched me patiently as I briefly explained my past. What had driven a wedge between my husband and I. The reason for my hesitancy in Paris. Now. That I was wanting more than just a fling with him, but I feared that's all he wanted. He was going back to Paris eventually. He didn't have to say it. He'd come here for a purpose, and once it was complete, he'd be gone again.

When I was done opening my heart to him, I said, "Ultimately, I'm afraid that you won't want to be with me unless I submit. Unless I surrender all control. And I just don't think I can do that anymore. I don't want to."

Stefan's eyes darkened as he rose to a sitting position as well. "Daphne, I'm not really into that part of the scene. The roleplay. The domination. The power exchange. I prefer the artistic aspect. Using my skills to capturing the art of rope technique—even the erotic poses. To express emotions through pictures rather than words."

I blinked rapidly, telling my heart to settle down.

"I enjoy making a beautiful body even more so. Showing off my work is like a designer who has created a new fall or spring collection. For the most part, a scene in the BDSM world is structured. There is a beginning and end. And when it's over, the actions and emotions experienced will disappear with time. But with photographs? It's timeless. You can experience the scene over and over again. Feel the same emotions as the model. Sense more. It's all up to the viewer's interpretation."

I had been holding my breath when he'd first spoken. As I took in his words, instinct took over. My exhales were shaky. My hands trembled in my lap. He wasn't like the other men in my life. He was...normal. With a twist. Dare I hope?

"But know this: my hobby is separate from any relationship I have. I would be lying if I said I didn't imagine you in my photos. I do. I would love to see you at your full potential. In your most raw, absolute beauty. And after hearing your story, to portray your brokenness. To show how you've come through it all like the phoenix rising from the ashes. Well, all that, and you have a smoking hot body. But I would still want you even if you said no to the camera."

I thought of being in the photos above his secret fireplace. Waiting patiently while someone—Stefan?—wrapped my body in colorful jute or hemp rope before he posed me for his lens. Both the thrill and the fear of it sent a chill through me. Much more than my previous fantasies of erotic moves and poses on the catwalk.

"I want to be with you regardless, Daphne. For however long you'll have me. We'll make it work."

I blinked at him.

"Okay?"

I managed a nod.

"I want you. I want this." His free hand grazed my breast through my T-shirt, his thumb stroking over where my nipple was already puckering in my bra. "But not if you don't want to."

I whimpered as he removed his hand. "Stop teasing."

Stefan growled. "I have one request."

"Anything." The word came out on breathless whisper before I thought of the ramifications.

"Tell me what you said to Edward that night of Pauline's show. When you stopped him from smacking your ass. Which I do have issue with. The smacking, not you stopping him. I'm surprised the other girls tolerated it. I spoke to my mother about it. She's—"

I let out some sound that was a mixture of a laugh and a sigh. "You're killing the mood."

"Sorry," he said, his voice very soft. He barely caressed the underside of one breast. "Tell me."

When he didn't put his hand back—which surprised me because he would be losing out as well as I would if he ended this now—and my muscles clenched, wanting to feel his touch again, I gave in. "Fine. I told him, 'Don't start what you can't finish.' As if he had a chance with—Ah!" I gasped as Stefan pinched my nipple, making my back arch.

"Oh, I always finish," he chuckled and returned to stroking my breast. It was light at first, caressing all over, still teasing me. But as he leaned in to kiss me, his motions became more intent, moving from the underside up to the nipple.

His mouth was so warm as it covered mine. I gripped the back of his head, holding him against me. His arms wrapped around me as we laid down again. Then he rolled over my body, our limbs spreading out as we made full use of the expansive mattress beneath us.

We reminded ourselves what the opposite sex felt like. Our tongues played along with our hands. And when he finally broke the kiss, we were both panting heavily.

Then he froze. "Shit. I don't have any condoms."

"I don't fucking care right now."

"But Daphne..."

I cupped his face, licking my lips as I caught my breath. "Do you want me?"

"Of course I do. I just—"

"Then quit stalling. Trust me."

He growled and leaned down to run his tongue and lips along my jawline and neck.

I closed my eyes again. Living in the moment. Gasping as his hand slid between my legs and stroked me through my jean shorts. I groaned, though, when he released the button.

"Having second thoughts yourself?" His voice rumbled against my neck where he was nuzzling.

I shivered as his tongue licked behind my ear. "No, just a little embarrassed. I haven't shaved. There."

Drake had always preferred me bare. I had slacked off in the past year, though. It had been kind of nice not having to worry about it. Going au naturel, although I'd kept it tidy. But now that I knew I was going to have sex with Stefan? I wish I'd kept up the maintenance better.

"I don't mind, Daphne."

"I shouldn't either. Sorry, it's just I'm used to...well..."

"Easily remedied, my dear."

Suddenly, he was no longer beside me. "Stefan?"

I opened my eyes to see him disappear into the bathroom. I propped myself up with my arms behind me. There was the sound of him rustling around in there, opening doors, and then the water running. When he returned, he had a small, black bag under his arm with a towel flung back over his shoulder. He was also carrying the basin I'd used to wipe down the shelves. I hoped he had cleaned it out.

He saw me watching him and stopped. His mouth screwed up for a moment, as if he was reconsidering this decision. Then he approached the bed again and set the basin on the floor. I heard water sloshing around in it. "Lie back."

I yielded to his request, realizing he was going to shave my fucking pussy. Before I could object—as if I wanted to—he grabbed my ankles and gently pulled me to the edge of the bed so that my legs were hanging over at my knees. One by one, he lifted my feet and removed my tennis shoes and socks, his eyes still on mine. Neither of us spoke as his hands wrapped around my calves and glided up my legs until they reached the bottom of my shorts.

I bit my lower lip as he slid his fingers under the hem on each leg and ran them along my thighs, first outward and then inward. Unconsciously, I parted my legs further. Which made him smile.

He finally broke eye contact as he moved to the hem of my T-shirt and bunched it up at my waist. Slowly, as if unwrapping a desired gift, he lowered the zipper. He parted the fabric to expose a tiny triangle of material from my panties then stopped. I could hear his heavy breathing.

I rose up to my elbows again and held my own breath as he finally eased the denim over my hips.

He stopped again as soon as my panties were fully revealed, my shorts halfway down my thighs. Then he leaned in and pressed his lips to my bare belly. He lifted his eyes to mine again as he circled his tongue around my navel and dragged it down to the deep dip of the cotton waistline. His moan echoed deep within me, making me gasp softly.

Stefan planted kisses along the elastic waistband. Along the joint where my legs met my pelvis. Down into the space where my thighs curved inwards. It felt like butterflies fluttering over my skin.

His eyes lowered as he pressed his mouth ever so lightly against my covered mound.

Despite the barrier, I felt the heat of his breath and the dampness of his tongue as he licked me. The shivers that ran through my body had me clenching the blanket and comforter. If not for the way my shorts bound my lower extremities together, I would have spread my legs and forced his head down between them.

To my slight dismay, he abandoned teasing me and removed my shorts the rest of the way. My panties followed suit. Those, he held up to his nose—his eyes closing momentarily.

Oh. My. God.

He stood over my half-naked body, his eyes focused below my waist. My hips arched slightly on their own. The corner of his mouth turned up.

Stefan whispered, "Beautiful," as he gently parted my legs and propped my bare feet on the mattress. Then he knelt at the side of the bed.

I felt frozen. In awe. Any fear or embarrassment I'd had before was gone. Now, I was just curious.

He kept his gaze from mine as he rummaged through his little black bag. As he pressed his left hand on the inside of my right thigh. Used his right bicep to keep my left knee from closing.

When I heard the buzzing sound of his electric razor, a shudder raced through me, and he paused.

I expected him to tell me to be still. When he did not, I knew he was letting me make the decision to continue or not. It was my out, but I didn't want an out. Not now. So I stopped wriggling and clenched the fabric beneath me between my fists, counting to ten until I relaxed. Only then did he proceed.

I tried to think of something else. Laundry. Doing the dishes. All the cleaning we needed to do downstairs. It actually did keep me calm.

Once he'd finished what he could with the electric one, he wiped his hand across my mound before starting with the straight razor. Which brought my train of thought back to him. I tried to remember to breathe as he pressed and pulled at my skin while he worked, occasionally rinsing of the razor blade in the warm water.

Twice, he ran the tip of the handle along my lips, making me shiver and moan. I sucked in my breath the second time, thinking—and hoping—that he would slide the handle up inside me. But he didn't, and I bit my lip in frustration.

By the time he was done, a combination of water and evidence of my arousal was dripping between my cheeks. He gently wiped me down with a wet rag, toweled me off, and then he disappeared into the bathroom again. I heard the water running once more. When he returned, he'd removed his shirt.

I sat up and pulled my own shirt over my head before he could object. That made him stop mid-stride. When I went to remove my bra, I heard him growl.

"I want to do that." He crossed the room the rest of the way. Knelt before the bed again, his hands cupping my bare hips for a moment. Then he leaned in and kissed my sternum.

I held onto his shoulders as his hands slid back and under my ass, scooting me closer toward him. I cooed, gripping him tighter when he nuzzled his mouth and nose against my breasts still confined in my sports bra. I was suddenly embarrassed that I hadn't put on one of my satiny sets of underwear.

Stefan didn't seem to notice. Or else he didn't care. And I forgot about it when I felt his tongue sliding beneath the edge of the material of the bra. Eventually, he tugged the left cup down so that my nipple was freed. Then the wonderful torture began again as he sucked and teased that delicate point.

My hands slid up to play with his hair, holding his head against me. I could easily come this way. In fact, I was so damn close. Something was holding me back though. It wasn't until he moved to my other breast that I realized I was waiting for him to tell me it was okay to have an orgasm. I was so used to it that even after all this time, I'd reverted to needing commands.

I must have whimpered because he pulled back.

"Are you okay?"

I opened my eyes to see him watching him. His hand still held my breast, his thumb frozen over my nipple. "Um, yeah."

"What is it?"

"I don't know if I can..." My gaze dropped. "For so long, I've trained myself not to..."

He released his hold and cupped my chin instead, gently lifting it. Refocusing our eye contact. "Daphne, it's okay to let go. Don't wait for my permission. Just feel."

I automatically said, "Yes, Sir." Then I cringed. "Dammit, I'm sorry."

He growled at me, his thumb brushing over my lips. "We're going to have to work on reprogramming your instincts so you can just enjoy sex."

"Who said I'm not enjoying this?" I fell back and spread my legs, cupping my right breast through the cottony cup that still encased it. I crooked a finger with my left hand and licked my lips.

His exhale shook his entire body as he stood. As he stripped the rest of the way. Then his cock sprang free. Long and not too thick, ribbed with veins and a perfectly smooth head on top.

I moaned. Loudly.

Good, Lord, forget modeling. He could make a fortune as a porn star with that thing. With that body. He was—in a word—breathtaking.

All six-plus feet of him stepped forward in his naked glory. I thought he was going to climb on top of me and mount me. I wouldn't have complained. But he knelt at the edge of the bed again. Slid my legs over his shoulders. And with his eyes on me, he lowered his mouth to run the flat of his tongue across my now-smooth pussy.

My whole body arched and froze, along with my cry. I stared at the ceiling as I felt him part my already swollen lips with his fingertips and lick his tongue over my clit. He lapped at the fluids that still ran down to my crack. Teased at my entrance but didn't invade it.

He covered every inch of me as if surveying his own handiwork. Alternating between licking, kissing, and sucking. All the while, the scruffiness of his jaw lightly scraped against the insides of my thighs.

I mewled. Gasped. Panted. I wanted to come. But I didn't want him to stop.

After some time, he switched to caressing with his hand. I moaned long and loud when he slid one finger up inside me. His tongue flicked my clit again as he added a second finger. Now, his knuckles bumped against my shaved mound each time he thrust inward.

I cooed as my body rippled from his leisurely strokes. I moved my hips up and down, back and forth, trying to guide him where I wanted him while playing his game as he teased and seduced me all at the same time. I clutched at my breasts, loving the feeling of reckless abandon coming over me.

No rules. No willful release of control. Just raw emotion.

Suddenly, he stopped moving. I struggled to open my eyes, gasping and licking my lips as I tried to figure out what had happened. Our gazes met just as I felt him curl his fingers, rapidly pressing upwards.

I came, screaming and thrashing.

He kept torturing me with his tongue and now his thumb while his arms around my thighs held me tight. Only when I'd settled down did he release me.

I was still shuddering as he climbed over my body. He pulled down one strap of my bra and suckled my breast like a hungry babe. For the slightest moment, I thought about my daughter, especially as his hand snaked down to caress my belly. But when his teeth nipped the swell of my breast, I flung my head back in a silent cry and the thought flittered away.

His fingers were between my legs again. He didn't touch my G-spot this time but simply stroked in and out, the heel of his palm pressing against my clit. I was quickly back on the edge. A loud gurgling of moans escaped as I bucked on the bed, trying to get him deeper within me. His mouth covered mine as he brought me to a second release.

He removed my bra while I floated back down to earth. I felt him move me fully onto the bed. Crawl over me. I whimpered when his hand brushed against the inside of my thigh as he dragged his cock between my swollen lips. Rubbed it against my clit. Teased at my entrance. Then ever so slowly, he pressed into me, pausing every few seconds before continuing.

"Oh, God!" My fingers dug into his arms.

"You are so fucking hot," his husky voice said against my ear.

My breaths were sharp inhales timed with each forward motion as he stretched me. Filled me. Each new movement sending shivers rippling through my whole body.

As I remembered he wasn't wearing a condom, elation bubbled up within me and came out as a joyful cry. My pussy undulated around him, gripping and pulling him in further. The skin-on-skin contact was fucking amazing. I didn't care what the repercussions were. I wanted this. I needed it. I deserved it.

"Damn, you feel so good," Stefan groaned once he'd completely sheathed himself. He lay still, holding my face between his palms. Kissing me softly as my body adjusted to his invasion. The full weight of him on top of me warmed me. Reminded me that sex could be so damn good.

I whimpered, suddenly desperate and confused about what I wanted him to do. I thoroughly enjoyed the way our bodies were connected. The slow burn of taking our time. Yet I also wanted to feel him thrusting into me, too. Fucking me. Feeling the strength of him overpowering me. Bringing me ultimate pleasure. His hand spanking me... I groaned. Old habits die hard, I guess.

He must have sensed something was off because he whispered for me to open my eyes.

His face was blurry as I obeyed. I blinked and felt a tear trickle down my cheek. He brushed it away with his thumb.

"What's wrong?" He didn't sound annoyed, but truly concerned.

I closed my eyes and reopened them slowly. "I want to stay like this forever. But I also want more. I want it fast. Slow. Rough. Sensual. I'm a mess."

He brushed at my sweat-dampened hair. "No, you're not."

I let out a soft cry as he twitched inside me. "I want what I've had before. What I'm used to. But I don't want to want it. Not anymore. I want you to help me get over it, like you said."

"I will. We have all the time in the world."

"But you're going to go back to Paris—"

"Shh. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I told you I'd wait for you. I thought I'd lost you once. Do you think I'm going to let you go now?"

I choked back a cry.

"Will you trust me?"

I nodded. Then I trembled as he started to pull out only to glide back in. But only a little. It was pleasurable torture.

And so he set the rhythm, stoking the fire within me until I burned like never before. He drew out my moans as he built up the momentum. Silenced my cries with his kisses. When he rose over me, my body arched in an attempt to follow his. His mouth coaxed my neck and breasts. Urged me to hang on. And I did, with my legs wrapped around his, my hands clutching his back.