tagBDSMRock and Water Ch. 03

Rock and Water Ch. 03


Chapter 3 is finally here. Thanks so much for the amazingly sweet comments! I think this chapter will please... All my gratitude to FA_JF for her ongoing support and patience!


After leaving the gym, I confirm with my parents that they're picking Addie up after school for the weekend. I don't tell them about the date just yet. They moved to Oregon from the east coast when she was two since she was their only grandchild, insisting on being a big part of her life. It's been especially helpful since the divorce. As a single parent, it's a blessing to have every other weekend to myself. Addie leaves for London in 10 days, and this will be the last weekend they share together for the summer.

That evening after work I go out with my friend Johanna for our Friday night sushi ritual. Since splitting from Frank, Johanna has been my shoulder to cry on and my loudest cheering section pushing me back in to the dating world. She's crass and sometimes loud, but also one of the best listeners I know. We've shared everything there is to share with each other. I even admitted to her about my online relationship with Robert, kink and all, along with my need for submission in the bedroom. I'd worried she might judge me for it, but it was quite the opposite.

Although Johanna doesn't share any of my interest in BDSM, she not only held no judgment, but wanted every juicy detail I was willing to share. Her marriage is blissfully stable with an adventurous and loving sex life. I've listened to countless stories of the risky public escapades she and her husband frequently engage in.

I tell her about meeting Patrick at the gym, and our date tomorrow. She ribs me a bit since I've brought "that tall, cute guy" up at least three times in the past few months, thinking each time that I'd never mentioned him. She also asks the question I've been a little afraid to confront myself with; am I truly ready for this? I think I am. I know my body is. I can barely contain my excitement about tomorrow. She's supportive, but goes on to ask how I'll feel if he's not in to kink, or even some mild power exchange in the bedroom. I'd thought about this too, and truly am not sure. It's something that I want so very badly.

With these questions in mind, I head home and try to get some sleep. Images of Patrick, and remembering his body pressed against mine at the lockers are swirling in my head as my body starts to betray my need for sleep. I turn on the light and reach for my purse on the floor and pull his card out. I stare at the words on the card, and even bring it close to my face to smell. It smells like paper and I feel a pretty silly but my body is coming to life remembering the touch of his hand on mine. My legs start to squeeze together; creating a delicious friction. My nipples press against the cool cotton of my old t-shirt.

I lie on my side and reach between my legs, cupping my pussy in one hand and squeeze. I let out a groan as my palm pushes through my panties into my swollen clit; moisture begins to soak my hand. My breathing becomes short and erratic as I continue to just gently squeeze my cunt and clit, imagining Patrick's strong had replacing mine; imagining him taking control.

I think about the toys in my closet, but my need is too great for them at this point, and I quickly tear off my underwear and plunge two fingers, then three, in to my sopping pussy. My other hand is up under my shirt pulling and twisting on my nipples causing both pain and devastating pleasure. My hips buck in to my palm trying to make contact with my wet, exposed clit as my fingers pump in and out of my hole. The hand on my breasts reaches down and begins to pull and pinch on my clit and my body lets go with a surprisingly quick and intense orgasm that shocks me. My body sated, I check my alarm one last time before drifting in to a deep and peaceful sleep with images of Patrick's ice-blue eyes gazing down on me.


The next morning I get up in enough time to take a long, hot shower. I don't really know what to expect from the day, but I take care to shave my legs and my labia until they're bare and soft. I trim the already short hair on my mound to a small, neat triangle just at the top of my cleft. I dry off and dress in some green hiking shorts and a black tank top. I grab my favorite, old navy blue zipped hoodie that advertises a local brewery on the back.

At just before 9am the next day an older looking, slightly beat up black Bronco pulls in front of my house and I see Patrick unfold his length from the driver's side door, followed by a scruffy brown and black Terrier mix. The sight of this tall, imposing man with this scruffy little dog that doesn't look like it weighs more than 12lb makes smile and relax just a little. I look at him through the window as he walks up towards my house. He's wearing some olive colored hiking shorts that go just above his knees, and black fleece over what appears to be a faded yellow t-shirt. His rugged hiking boots look well-loved, and well-worn.

His knock on the door sets Griffin off and his crazed barking then gets Guinness barking on the other side. Madness ensues as I grab Griffin's collar and open the door just before Guinness comes tearing in the house circling excitedly around us. Griffin appears stunned by the small, hyper dog at his feet, but then breaks free from my hold, throwing me straight in to Patrick's chest, and runs out to the front yard with Guinness in tow. The two race in happy circles, the smaller dog dwarfed in size by the Border Collie mix, until both collapse contentedly in the grass and look at us expectantly like they've been best friends forever.

After my graceless fall in to Patrick's chest, he quickly reaches out and his hands grasp my bare arms to steady me. His hold is warm, secure, and all too short as he takes a step back and looks down at me. "Are you ok? " He asks with concern. "I'd hoped there'd be less chaos having them meet before the car ride."

The heat of his strong hands on my arms lingers, and there's no question the chemistry I felt yesterday was not imagined. "I'm fine. I can't really blame my dog for my lack of grace. I'm really a bit of a klutz. I've even injured myself sitting in the studio while on the air. I'm truly hopeless," I say with a laugh.

"Well, I'll just have to watch out for you then, " he replies with a slight smile on his lips. "I've got plans for us later and they'll need you in one piece." The promise in his voice causes my gut to clench, wondering what these "plans" could be. "You look incredible Corrine. There's nothing sexier in my eyes than a woman in hiking boots." I look at him doubtful, to see if he's being truthful, and from the appreciative glint in his eyes I see that he is.

I grab my bag that has my sundress for later, some sunblock, and Griffin's food; we head out the door to his truck. The back seat is covered in old blankets for the dogs. They jump in and shuffle around. True to Patrick's word, Guinness hogs up about ¾ of the seat pacing back and forth, while Griffin tries to make himself as small as possible against the passenger door. The step up in to the Bronco is a bit high, and I feel Patrick just behind me as I climb in making sure I get in safely before he closes my door. The chivalry is refreshing after my recent dates.

He lifts himself in to the driver side, and we both buckle in before he takes off. With a little space between us, conversation comes much more easily for me today. We mostly cover the easy basics that most do on first dates, i.e. what brought me to Portland from the east coast, how I got in to radio broadcast, and a little about Addie. I learn that before he was a carpenter he had been a ski instructor in the winters, and a river rafting guide during the summers. A few injuries over the years, along with his marriage and need to stay in one place, guided his decision to turn his passion for woodworking in to a career.

Despite the light conversation, his body so close to mine is keeping mine on edge. After months of crushing on him from afar, it amazes me how easy it is to talk to him. I can't seem to drop the smile on my face or keep my eyes from frequently looking at him as he drives.

Patrick tells me that he has a cabin in the gorge, just on the other side of the river in Washington. I'm impressed when he tells me that he bought it after the original structure had burned down, leaving only the basic foundation. Over the years he rebuilt with his own hands, along with the help of some good friends. It sounds pretty rustic with the only heat coming from an old wood stove, but it does have running water and electricity.

"Depending on how our day goes, I'd love it if we could spend the night there." He pauses and looks at me briefly before returning his eyes to the road. "I'm not going to be coy or shy about letting you know that I want you, but ultimately it's up to you. I'm not opposed to sharing the couch with Guinness if you'd be more comfortable, but I'd love to wake up there with you tomorrow and fix you my killer breakfast."

His admission of wanting me sends a delicious ache through my gut and my heart literally flutters. I love his bold and direct nature. I'm over game playing, and it appears he is too. "Wow, I'd...uh, I'd love to see your cabin.... as far as staying tonight, I think it would be ok. It seems a bit premature to plan sleeping arrangements quite yet though. I mean, hell, we haven't even kissed!"

With that, he pulls over to the side of the isolated forest road we've been driving on and before I can even speak he's pulled himself closer to me and cradles my face in his large hands. "We can remedy that right here and now Corrine. I've spent too many months wondering what your lips would feel like on mine. I'd really like to kiss you..." His last words come out as a low growl, and as he speaks, his right hand lowers a bit and I feel his thumb drag across my bottom lip. Without thought my tongue darts out and follows the path his finger traced.

I can't be coy either. I need this so bad. "Please yes... Patrick..." I feel his hands shift from my cheeks to the back of my head as he draws me to him. The last thing I see before I close my eyes is the intensity in his, and I expect his lips to crush mine. Instead, I feel the most chaste and delicate kiss caress my lips, then another, and another. His tongue gently begins to trace my lips, but does not enter. This tender kiss is igniting something dormant in me and I want to crush myself against him. I can't wait any longer and I push forward in an attempt to intensify the kiss, only to have him pull back and smile.

I am flustered and left wanting. He appears to know this, but I can see the effect the kiss had on him too as he unselfconsciously adjusts himself through his shorts with a low moan. He backs himself in to the driver's seat once again, leaning his head back on the head rest he lets outs his breath. "Holy hell, those lips are going to be the end of me.... I think I'd be happy to stay on the side of the road and kiss you all day, but I promised you a hike, didn't I?"

He starts up the truck again and we continue on. My body continues to tremble from the kiss. We both remain quiet for the rest of the ride. After another 20 minutes of forest roads, we pull up to the trailhead. I'm delighted that it's a hike I've been dying to try and tell him so. It's known for its beautiful views at the top, but also for its occasional rough terrain. Trail books recommend that it not be hiked alone.

Patrick parks the Bronco and we put the dogs on leashes. He grabs his pack out of the back and we leave the lot signing in at the start of the trail. A few other cars are already parked, but not too many so hopefully we'll have the trail to ourselves. With no one around, we let the dogs off leash and they tear up the path out of view, only to double back and check in with us. They repeat this pattern though the morning, occasionally jumping off the path into the creek for drinks of cold water.

We walk in easy silence with each other. Occasionally he points out a small hidden waterfall, or a tree struck by lightning, but otherwise we're both lost in our own thoughts. As the switchbacks begin in earnest I can feel his vigilance kick in as he walks closely behind me, occasionally aiding me over larger rocks with a hand on my hip or elbow in support. Instead of feeling patronized, I feel a warm glow inside knowing he's looking after me. With each touch I only crave more.

A few miles in, we break through the tree line into a meadow of wildflowers. The sun is now shining brightly down on us. The path continues upward through the grasses and I joke about breaking in to the "Sound of Music." The dogs disappear in to the tall fields; occasionally I can see Griffin jumping out only to dive back in again. I can't remember feeling so good in a long time. Patrick guides me off the trail towards a clearing and some old logs. I sit and straddle a log as he pulls out a jug of water from his pack. I hadn't realized he'd been packing along a gallon of water, along with the water bottles we'd already been carrying. He pulls out two portable water bowls and pours for the thirsty dogs.

He continues into his pack, pulling out a thick, plaid cotton blanket along with some food for lunch. I can't believe the spread he brought, including some ham and brie baguettes, a greek salad, a bunch of fruit, a decadent looking brownie, and even a bottle of red wine. He pulls out his camping dishes, then opens the bottle of wine, pouring it in to mugs. "Sorry for the unromantic wine glasses," he laments.

"They're perfect." I reply readily looking up in to his bright eyes. "The whole day's been perfect." He smiles at that,then before I know it he's behind me on the log with his body pushed against my back, his legs on either side of mine. His arms circle around my waist, he gives me a warm, almost possessive hug. I feel his breath on the back of my neck as he leans in closer to my ear.

"Corrine, it's been a bitch to follow you all day," he says with a low chuckle. "Watching your curves, the sheen of sweat on your neck... There's been twenty times I've wanted to pull you off the trail to devour you." His body against mine and the need in his voice completely undo me. Without conscious thought my body leans back in to his to rest my head on his shoulder. While holding one arm snug around me, he reaches the other behind my neck and begins to gently brush the hair of my ponytail aside to expose the soft skin behind my ear. My skin tingles as his calloused fingertips gently trace against it.

I close my eyes and listen to his breathing, enjoying the sensation of his hand caressing my hair, when suddenly his hand tightens its hold on the base of my ponytail. I feel my scalp tingle as he pulls my head to the side and lowers his mouth to my vulnerable skin. As his open lips contact my bare skin my eyes shoot open and my body jerks but his arm around me keeps me secure against him. His warm, wet tongue is against my skin, tasting me, before he unleashes a groan and then all I feel are his lips sucking at my flesh with less than gentle nips of his teeth. His hand fists even tighter in my hair and I feel myself arch in to him with a groan. "Yes," I think to myself. " He knows.

I want to turn around to feel his lips on mine but I'm immobilized by his warm embrace. He continues his assault on my neck, but I feel his hand release my hair then run down my arm, covering my own hand that I now realize has a death grip on my thigh. He coerces me to release the hold on my leg and gently but firmly guides my hand behind my head and without words instructs me to grasp my own hair as he had, holding my neck exposed for him. I do.

His kisses have stopped but he doesn't release me. I leave my hand in my hair; he doesn't instruct me otherwise. I hear Patrick breathing heavily as his arm around my waist pulls me tighter against him and he grinds himself against me. I can now feel his hard length straining against his shorts and into my backside. Juices escape my pussy and my panties get noticeably wet. His free hand is now on my hip, sliding down the top of my thigh to the exposed skin just below my hiking shorts. He stops and I feel his fingers tracing the soft skin inside of my thigh, just under the cuff, before he squeezes the flesh firmly. The constant pressure of his grip is just shy of painful; my mouth opens and I let my breath out in a low and raspy groan.

He too releases a low, guttural moan before releasing his grip on my thigh, leaving his hand where it is. My skin feels singed by the imprint of his hand, and I know if I look there will be a mark on my leg. He takes my hand from my hair and pulls it in front of my belly before grasping it in his own. "Did you like that, Corrine?" His breathing is fast and his voice low and steady. "My desire for you at this moment is a bit intense. I'm not sure I can explain it myself, but the last thing I want to do is scare you in any way." His embrace has changed from restrictive to warm, with his chin resting on my shoulder.

"Oh god no... not scary at all. It was.... It was unlike anything....ugh, I can't find my words."

"I want to do things to you. I look at you and your beauty, your intelligence, your sexy voice that I'll never be able to hear over the radio again without thinking of those lips on mine, and I just want EVERYTHING. More to the point... I want you to give me everything; all you've got. More. Do you understand what I'm asking?'

"I think I do, Patrick," I reply. "I... I want you too. So bad I can't think straight."

He laughs and swings himself around on the log to face me. My eyes can't help but look down and see the evidence of his desire for me swollen against the seam of his shorts. My tongue darts out and licks my lower lip and I look up. By the half grin on his face and the light in his eyes I know he caught me looking. "Ignore it," he gestures to his cock, "while I'm trying to be a gentleman it's got other ideas.... No worries though, I can control myself. I have other plans for us right now."

My eyes open wide, wondering what he has in mind. As it turns out, it's just lunch. We plunk down on the blanket and feast on the amazing food he packed. "Don't give me any credit for the cooking... I'm a 'foodie' that can't cook anything but breakfast."

"That's twice now you've mentioned that breakfast. You're raising my expectations pretty high!"

"Well, I'm a one-trick pony with my kitchen skills.... Hopefully I'll find other ways to charm and impress you so won't notice I fix you the same meal every morning." Every morning? The thought excites me.

After the last bite of brownie has been eaten down to the last crumb, he removes his fleece and balls it up. He lies down on the blanket, offering the fleece for me to use as a pillow, but I decline and remove my own hoodie to use as a pillow so he could use his. Before I lay down, I gawk at his exposed arms, along with the myriad of tattoos adorning them. I can now see clearly the tattoos on his inner forearms that I'd only glimpsed the edges of at the gym. They are the same oak tree and axe that are on his business cards. They are lovely. I ask which came first, learning that they preceded his business altogether by about five years.

The tail of a black serpent winds up his left arm. The tip of its tail curls just above his elbow, while the body winds upwards over his biceps disappearing under his t-shirt sleeve. "I got that in my early twenties. Thought it made me look tough. You can't see its face because of my shirt, but the artist made my bad-ass snake have 'baby blue' eyes. I caught so much hell from my friends that I almost had them changed to a darker color, but decided not to give them the satisfaction." He laughs, then adds, "they still give me shit about it."

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byjhollander© 30 comments/ 56272 views/ 61 favorites

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