Raw Ch. 03bysecretsxywriter©
The last week had been one fucked-up, crazy dream. I had loved and hated it. And like any dream, someone or something would waken me any moment. Then I'd be back to my illustrious life as a best-selling novelist.
Yet, as I kept telling myself that, reality did not change. I still stood in the foyer of an Italian restaurant, ready to face the man who had opened the proverbial red door in a hall of unending white ones called my life. The door to unknown pleasures and yet more fears. Fears of what I would experience...and fears of never again experiencing those things to which he'd introduced me.
"I'm meeting Mr. Hughes," I told the hostess.
She smiled and led the way toward a table near the back of the restaurant away from the regular dinner crowd. Brian was already seated but stood as we approached.
"Ms. Rockland, it's good to see you."
"Likewise." I was unsure what to do as he remained standing at his place. Even the hostess looked back and forth between us, as if waiting for further directions. Brian eventually took his own seat again and gestured to the chair across from him. I forced myself not to roll my eyes as I pulled out my own chair and sat. "You look very professional, as always."
His chin dipped as acknowledgement, then his eyes lowered, slowly rising to meet mine again. "You look...nice."
His lower lip twitched as if he wanted to frown but was afraid of breaking his stoic demeanor. The man already looked like a god, but a smile every now would have done wonders. Geesh.
I tried not to let his hesitation bother me. Despite changing my clothes three times, I was satisfied with my final decision, which had been my original choice. I had just been having a bad case of the nerves. Still was. In the end, I was more comfortable in my slacks and loose blouse this evening than the tighter, more revealing outfits he'd previously seen me in.
He, of course, wore what I assumed was his trademark dark suit and tie.
Impeccable. Meticulous. Those were two more words I could throw in the pot that described him which included cool, calculating, and dominating. Even when it came to his looks.
I focused on the knot of green and black material at his throat for a long moment, remembering how I had been entranced by that part of his body just last Friday while he sat in my hotel room interviewing who he had anticipated to be a male author for the erotic "story of the season."
Albeit, my novels were pretty graphic when it came to the sex scenes, they weren't anywhere near 'mommy porn' as the "Fifty Shades" books had been dubbed. More along the lines of "Nancy Drew" meets "The Hardy Boys" with a little Harlequin twist. Brian had explained it had been the explosive popularity of my male-perspective "Dex Knightly Mysteries" within women's circles that had driven him to track me down. Or rather, the mysterious Drake Alexander, my nom de plume taken from the names of my two older brothers.
I tried not to make it obvious as I glanced around. I didn't see Drake—my brother and recent confidant when it came to all things kinky this past week—anywhere near us. Maybe he hadn't been able to get a seat nearby...or change his plans.
But then, my eyes met the warm smile of a familiar face, and I felt my heart skip a beat. A mixture of relief and sudden apprehension that I was being watched flitted through my brain.
I briefly returned the smile then shifted my eyes back to the tall man seated before me. I tried to envision him in a more relaxed look. His worn pair of black jeans, perhaps. His unbuttoned, black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing a smattering of hair on his muscular chest. And then I thought of how he had looked with those clothes removed. The part of me that longed to see him either way again jerked to attention.
I took a long sip of water to settle her down. One step at a time, old girl.
Brian's fingers lightly stroked the top of my free hand that I had rested on the table. "I'm glad you agreed to come."
When we'd parted a week ago, he had denied me that pleasure. I suppressed a snort and the desire to continue the train of thought on that unintentional innuendo. Now he was allowing me to take the lead and make my own decision?
Slowly, I pulled my hand back. It was so damn difficult. Memories flashed before my eyes of his fingers encircling my wrist, of his light touches drawing me into him while we sat at another restaurant, another time.
Now, I wanted to keep my distance. I forced myself to breathe evenly, bringing my gaze up to his. A very bold move for a submissive to do before a Dominant. But we had ceased to be on those terms, as far as I was concerned. At least until we hashed this out. Those blue eyes stared back, unblinking. So unreadable.
I wondered what went on his head. A shiver raced up my back as I remembered the contraption he had built and I'd been strapped down to. The thought-process that must have gone into designing it. Yeah, probably best not knowing his mind too much too fully. I picked up my menu. "Let's order. Then we can talk."
For a moment, I thought he was going to object. His lips pursed, and his fingers flexed on the tablecloth. But he nodded and opened his menu. I had a feeling he'd had no intention of eating. Quite possibly, he thought he'd take me back to his car and his bedroom after a quick drink. But then we'd be right back where we were now...where we were last Saturday night.
We placed our orders with the waitress, and when we were alone once more, Brian went to reach for my hand again.
I used unfolding my napkin as a reason to put my hands in my lap. "What did you want to talk about?"
His hand smoothly changed course, collected the bowl of his wine glass from underneath like a proper wine connoisseur, and lifted it to his lips. I tried not to think of those lips. How they'd kissed my neck while I stood half-undressed before him until my knees gave out. Kissed the top of my head after my first orgasm. Kissed my lips, my breasts, my pussy, my butt cheeks. I brushed aside the memories and noticed that he had ordered me a glass as well. I had no intention of imbibing. I needed to keep a clear head.
"Brian? You've been quite persistent to track me down this week. Now that I'm here, what did you need? More information for the article, perhaps?"
He blinked and set the glass down. "No. The article has been submitted. As I said on the phone, I wanted to apologize."
I waited for him to continue, but he appeared to be finished as he took a piece of bread from the basket, buttered it, cut off a piece, and placed it in his mouth.
I sipped my water, eyeing the bread myself as my stomach growled softly. But the basket was on his side of the table. He didn't even offer it to me. I clutched my napkin and darted a gaze over his shoulder.
Behind him, the warm smile parted and slowly formed a single word. Even from this distance I understood: relax.
I took a couple of deep breaths, counted to ten, and pasted on another smile for Brian. "I'm sorry, but can you elaborate? What are you apologizing for?"
The waitress chose that moment to deliver our salads. At least I could eat something now. I thanked her. Brian gave her a dismissive tip of his chin, and she moved on to another table.
"Well, I'm sorry for scaring you," Brian said. "I realize the timing of answering all your questions was probably off. You were coming down from a high. I should have waited to broach the subject of our arrangement until your full mental faculties had returned."
I slowly lowered my fork, struggling to swallow the lettuce I had just placed in my mouth. The audacity! Who did he think he was? Even now, he was trying to control me...acting as if I would have agreed to his enslavement if I had not just had sex with him. I thought of Drake and Daphne. How their Master/slave relationship was mutually consensual. How they enjoyed being in the company of each other outside of their scenes as well as within them.
My fingers twitched. I wanted to grab my untouched glass of wine and throw it in Brian's face. I decided to keep what was left of my sanity instead.
"Will you excuse me? I need to use the ladies' room." I pushed back my chair and grabbed my purse. Somehow, I managed to walk towards the designated sign.
I rounded the corner, entering a hallway. The kitchen was off to my right, the restrooms in another, shorter hall on my left. Straight ahead was a door with an Exit sign above it. My feet moved towards it of their own volition. But before I could reach that door, a strong grip on my arm stopped me.
I raised my free hand and started to turn. "Get your fucking—"
Another hand—not Brian's—caught my open palm before it hit. Familiar, masculine fingers curled around mine, tucking my hand to a broad chest.
"Oh, God! I'm so sorry." My legs wobbled as a tear escaped.
"Shh." Malcolm wrapped me in his arms, pulling me closer. He pressed my head to his shoulder and smoothed my hair. "It's okay, Becca."
The texture of his polo shirt was soft and comforting against my cheek. The scent of his spicy yet sweet cologne invaded my head for a moment. I had to remember to thank my brother for his quick thinking. It was better this way, too. I would have been so embarrassed for Drake to have seen me like this.
"I can't do it, Malcolm. This was a mistake."
"You were doing great from where I was sitting. What happened?"
I managed to relate what few words had transpired between Brian and I. "He's an ass. He was last week. Why did I think he'd be any different today? I thought I could talk to him. Change him. Make him see what I wanted. I thought he was really sorry for how he'd treated me. I was so wrong."
"Becca, you had to take the chance. Now you know." Malcolm tilted my chin up and rubbed his thumb at my tear-stained cheek. "Do you want to leave?"
"Would you consider me a coward if I said yes?" I so wanted to lay my head on his shoulder again and sob. But I resisted to break completely. Especially while standing in the back hall of a restaurant.
"No, I would consider you very brave for standing up for yourself. I have my car. I'll meet you out front?"
I nodded and went into the bathroom to touch up my face. When I felt presentable again, I returned to the table and remained standing. I waited until Brian looked up from his barely-touched salad.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Hughes, but this arrangement will not work out. I am not the woman you want me to be, and you're not the man I need. I expected so much more from this whole situation. But thank you for the experience. I look forward to reading your article."
I didn't wait for him to respond. I just turned and walked away. I held my breath until I stepped outside. As promised, Malcolm was waiting by his car. He opened the passenger door, and I gave him a small smile as I slid in and fastened my seatbelt.
We were both quiet on the drive over to my place. He pulled up to the curb and shifted into park.
"Are you okay, Becca?"
I nodded, staring straight ahead.
His warm hand covered mine and squeezed gently. "Can I do anything for you?"
My lower lip trembled and I dropped my eyes to my lap.
"Becca, I have a confession to make. I enjoyed our time this past week. I was sorry to see it end."
I gulped. "Me, too. I wanted to thank you again for all your help. I'm sorry it didn't go so well tonight."
"Shh. Stop berating yourself. Like you said, he's a real ass for treating you like that. I'm glad your brother considered me worthy to be there for you. You are strong-willed but resilient. You know exactly what you want even if you can't always express it. I admire that. I—"
"Would you be offended if I asked you to sleep with me?" I forced my other hand not to slap over my mouth. To not apologize for being so brash. To go after something I really wanted.
Malcolm was quiet, although he still held my hand.
I cringed, mentally smacking myself. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"
"Becca, I would not be offended in the least. I would be honored." He raised my hand and kissed my knuckles, his lips moist against my smooth skin.
It seemed like slow motion as Malcolm turned off the ignition and came around to open my door. As his arm circled my shoulders and we climbed the front stairs. As I found the key and unlocked the door to my condo.
Inside, I didn't switch on the lights. I heard him close the door behind us. Turn the deadbolt. Unlike when Brian had locked the door, making me feel like a prisoner, I now felt safe. I didn't feel rushed, as aroused as I was with the thought that I was going to have sex with Malcolm.
No, wait. Master Malcolm.
That thought sent shivers racing up my spine. I didn't want to compare him to Brian, but having been controlled already, I was anxious to find out if they did anything similarly. What else Malcolm could teach me. If he incorporated his training techniques in the bedroom as well.
I slowly turned to him. Moonlight from the living room spilled into the hall, illuminating the both of us. Highlighting the lines of his face and he watched me. I held my ground as he took a step forward.
"I want to give you a gift, Becca." His voice was low, slightly rough.
My breath caught, my hand trembling as he took it in his again.
"I want to give you what you need. What you really want. Tonight we are Malcolm and Becca. Nothing kinky. No rules, no safe words needed. Plain, old vanilla sex."
I just nodded, my heart beat skipping for a moment. I wasn't sure if it was from disappointment or relief.
I pointed with my free hand. He led the way, gently tugging me behind him. Once we'd reached my room, he toed off his shoes. I followed suit, not knowing what else to do.
Before I could think about it, Malcolm pulled my blouse up and over my head. Then he lowered my slacks. As I stood in my bra and panties, he undressed completely.
The room was mostly dark, so I was unable to see his package, but the rest of him was mighty fine. He stepped toward me. I held my ground, staring with awe at his smooth chest. At his lean waist and hips. At his long, thick legs. He wasn't bursting with muscles, but I could tell he tried to stay fit. I wondered how much of his exercise regimen included sex.
No, I didn't want to think about the other women he'd bedded. I changed my focus to how much I wanted to run my hands across that expanse of skin covering his shoulders and chest. To taste his nipples, to tease them with my teeth and tongue.
He took another step forward, and this time I retreated. The back of my legs hit the bed, but he caught me around the waist before I fell. He lifted his free hand and caressed my cheek.
I closed my eyes and finally leaned into his touch with a soft sigh. A gasp escaped as he slid his hand down, gripped my chin, and tilted my face up before he pressed his lips to mine.
My arms circled his neck, pulling him closer. His moan combined with mine, and he lowered me back onto my bed. He climbed over me, his fingers buried in my hair now. It felt so good to have him nestled between my legs, his body weighting mine down.
I touched every part of him with my hands and my feet, my limbs tangling with his. My breaths came out in shudders as he broke the kiss and brushed his lips against my chin then up along my jaw to my ear. His tongue traced the folds there, his breath hot against my skin.
One of his hands slid down and cupped my breast through my bra. I arched into him and moaned louder.
His hands were everywhere then. On my arms, on my legs, on my hips. Stroking. Fondling. Driving me mad. I couldn't stop touching him, either. It felt so good to just do what came naturally. As much as I wanted to explore my kinky desires, this was exactly what I needed right now. And I felt a tear in my eye that Malcolm understood me.
He tugged my cup down and latched onto my breast like a hungry babe. I cried out as his tongue rasped against my sensitive skin, as his teeth teased my nipple. I could feel his arousal pressing against my panties, hot and thick and hard. I whimpered, grinding against him.
"Shh, Becca. I know."
He removed my bra, and finally, his hands covered my breasts. I sighed as he squeezed them, lifting them to his mouth so he could lick all over them in long strokes. I alternated between clutching at his shoulders and his hair, the differences in texture heightening my own sensations.
When I felt him sit back and tug at my panties, I lifted my hips. He slowly removed them, but they got caught on my feet. I growled softly, kicking my leg to try to dislodge the hindrance.
Malcolm chuckled. "We'll get there. Calm down."
Now fully naked, I stared up at Malcolm. I expected his eyes to be on my body. Instead, he was watching my face. I licked my lips and bit my lower lip, lifting my hand to stroke my fingers down his arm.
"Darling, I want you to relax. To enjoy this. I think it's long deserved."
I wasn't quite sure what he was referring to until his fingers parted my folds and circled my clit.
I cooed, opening my legs wider. He acquiesced to my silent request, slowly stroking his thick fingers up and down, spreading my wetness. His lips pressed to my cheek before moving up to my ear. There, he whispered encouraging words and phrases.
I closed my eyes and gave into the pleasure he was bringing me. I felt his strong body pressing against my side, his tongue and lips worshipping my jaw and neck and ear. One of his fingers pushed up inside me, and I cried out.
My body was on fire. His expert touch was a salve to my ache. But I couldn't get enough.
His mouth moved down to suck on one of my breasts again. His thumb brushed my clit, then he added another two fingers, plunging them faster and faster.
I came screaming his name as he bit down on my nipple, my hands gripping his shoulder. He did not stop touching me as I writhed beneath him.
I was still shuddering when he laid on top and slid his cock inside of me. I came again, managing to wrap my limbs around him to hold him as close as possible.
He stroked long and deep, his mouth returning to mine. He rolled us over so he was on the bottom, helping me sit up. With his hands on my hips, he guided his thrusts until I let him know with my groans and cries that he was hitting a sweet spot. When I found my rhythm, his hands traced my silhouette.
For the longest time, I got lost in the feeling of just making love with a man. Feeling his cock penetrate me over and over again. His hands on my body, my hands on his. My knees hugging his hips. As promised, it was raw, vanilla sex. But it was far from old and plain.
I reached between us, and with one hand on his chest for support, I stroked my clit until I felt the tingling sensations building. My fingertips brushed his cock, and I choked back a sob between my labored breaths.
"Good girl. Come for me, Becca."
I whimpered and focused on reaching that pinnacle. His thrusts slowed, became more deliberate. His hand covered my breast and rolled my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
I cried his name again as ripples raced up and down my back, through my arms and legs. I tried to keep rocking, to make him come with me. But I was growing tired, and I think Malcolm realized that.
He wrapped his arms around me, rolled us again so I was under him, then he pressed my legs up with his hands under my knees. He thrust harder, his groans mixing with my cries, until he went still, his back rigid under my hands. His cock pulsed inside of me as he came with a long groan.
He collapsed on top of me. I expected him to roll off and clean us both up. Maybe to want to leave. To my surprise, he wrapped his legs around me and held me close, pulling the comforter up over us. His hands caressed my back as his lips pressed to my forehead.