Rock and Water Ch. 10

The tight band of muscle begins to relax, and my fingers begin to explore deeper. I know what I'm searching for, I just don't know if I'll know what it is when I feel it - so I'm delighted when I feel a slight bulge slip beneath my fingertips.

"Ah, fuck!" Patrick's voice is almost strangled as my fingers begin to rub back and forth over his prostate. I can tell he's trying to keep his voice down as best as he can. His already rock-hard cock seems to thicken in my hand, his balls drawing up tight between his legs.

"I can't... I can't last long," he gasps as my fingers move in a steady rhythm over the incredibly erogenous gland. Pre-cum is dripping from the tip of his cock, mixing with the massage oil creating wet, slick sounds as I pump his cock. His body bucks and jerks as cum goes flying at incredible velocity out of him, splattering the bed and even his own arms that are just barely supporting him now. I slow the motions of both hands, but don't stop until the last drops escape him. Removing my fingers, and slipping my hand from his still hard shaft, I lean over him, kissing his sweaty back.

He remains quiet, staying on his hands and knees with his head down - chest heaving.

Finally he speaks. "There's no other words for that than 'mind-blowing', Corrine. My fucking heart was slamming in my chest... never come so hard in my life."

I'm just beaming - excited to discover a new and clearly powerful way to please him. I don't get to celebrate long, though, when Patrick rises and flips me over onto my back and lands on top of me - his hands press my wrists into the bed.

His lips meet mine in a long, lingering kiss that sends molten heat through me. I'm about to joke about where my mouth just was, when I remember how many times he's rimmed me and I shrug it off.

He lifts his head and l just can't stop smiling.

"You're pretty damned pleased with yourself, aren't you sweetie?"

"Yup!" My smile grows even wider.

"Well, I'm pretty pleased with you too, my love. You took me somewhere I've never been - thank you."

My smile drops at his sincerity. Reaching up, I brush his errant hair from his forehead before placing my palm on his cheek.

"Patrick, you've taken me to that place so many times. Every day with you I learn something new - feel something new."

"That's very mutual. I've always prided myself on my autonomy - but I have to confess that days away from you are getting harder and harder."

I nod in agreement, but don't know quite how to answer to that. It's just too soon and too complicated to consider moving in with each other just yet. Patrick rolls off and lies next to me - heat radiating from his skin. We lay in silence for a few minutes before he speaks again.

"Addie seemed fine with it all tonight."

"She did, Patrick. She really likes you."

He goes silent, and I suspect he's thinking about Luka again as he absentmindedly runs his fingers up and down my arm. I move to rest my head on his chest, until I feel how damp it is.

"Um..., shower?"

"I suppose I'm pretty ripe by now."

"No, just soggy."

He laughs before leaning over and tweaking my nipple.

"How've you been enjoying that new shower head?"

Best shower ever.

"I think you know quite well considering you tried each setting on me the first night."

Memories of how long he'd edged me - was it three, four, five times? - make me shudder. My pussy and clit had grown over sensitive to the point of pain while I begged him to let me orgasm. When he did, he held the spray of water on me with one hand while the other delivered a series of wet, hard slaps to my ass until I collapsed to the floor trembling - the ripples of my orgasm caused spasms through my pussy and belly for minutes to come.

We make it to the shower, where Patrick is surprisingly gentle with me. Using his fingers, lips, and of course, the shower head, he drives me to an achingly long and deeply intense climax that left me sated and sleepy.

The next morning, Addie acted as if Patrick had slept over countless times. After taking the dogs to the park, the three of us went to brunch. She was surprisingly mature and sympathetic with the news about Luka, and suggested that at the very least his mother may allow him and Patrick to remain pen-pals.

***

"Do you know a Marilyn Morris?"

I'd just answered my phone and these were the first words out of my agent's mouth.

"Yeah, I know Marilyn. We worked together briefly years ago. She's been with Minnesota public radio for years now. Is she back in town?"

Peter's voice holds barely contained excitement, a rarity for him.

"No, she's not. In fact, she's starting a new show with PRI in London. Corrine, she wants you there."

My heart starts thumping and I can't seem to get my mouth to work.

"Did you hear me? She wants you to be the voice of the show. It's going to be a little less politics and news than you're used to, leaning more towards human interest, but shit, you've gotta' do this!"

"Oh..."

"That's all you can say? Corrine, this is a life changer! This is huge!"

A whirlwind of factors hit me all at once. Addie... my home... my life... Patrick.

"Wow, Peter. I don't know what to say! I loved working with her when she produced my first show. I can't... I just can't believe this."

"Call her. She's waiting to hear from you. Just reach her at the Minneapolis office."

Still in a daze, I barely squeak out an answer. "Um, okay - I will."

Peter hangs up and I sit in my car just in front of my house, trying to slow my thoughts down.

Addie would love to live in London - hell, she's already asked to - and Frank and Carrie are there. She'd have both parents. Working with Marilyn again would be amazing - it seemed like every program she had her hands in succeeded - many of which had won awards over the years.

I can't help but let out a choked sob, though, when I think of Patrick. We've only just started less than a year ago - there's no way we could hope to survive a long distance relationship, and I can't expect him to abandon a business that he loves to follow me over there.

Fuck!

I go back into the house, forgetting why I'd gone out to the car in the first place. Addie is just home from school and Skyping with her dad. It's after eleven in London, but he stays up frequently to help her with her homework. I watch on as the two talk through a school project she's been working on. I give her a smile and Frank a brief wave before going into the bedroom to call Marilyn.

***

The following Sunday, the three of us spend the afternoon with Luka and his family at Oaks Park, an ancient amusement park with old time carnival games and rides that look like they're about to fall off their tracks. It's official that they'll be moving to California in two weeks, but Luka's mom has agreed that they can write to each other.

Luka loved the drafting table that Patrick had made for him, hoping to encourage his love of graphic arts. Katya's fiancee keeps his distance most of the day, but the impression I get is that he's allowing the two to enjoy their last day together. At the end of the day he shakes Patrick's hand firmly, assuring him that he'll be a good dad to Luka - for him not to worry.

I try and fail not to cry as Patrick and Luka say their goodbyes. They remain embraced for close to minute while Addie and I cling to each other for support. I wonder whether Patrick may need some alone time this evening - I also wonder when and how to discuss my own news with him. In the end, he suggests take-out Thai and a game night.

I've known for the past three days that the move to London will probably take place . It's as if all the stars aligned for it to happen. My contract is up for renegotiation at the end of the year which is only two and one half months away, the position in London will not only come with more exposure, but also a hefty raise in pay, and Frank was out of his head ecstatic when I told him the news. When I told Addie last night, she actually started crying she was so happy. We talked frankly about how it may feel to live in another country - about missing her friends and grandparents in Portland - but also told her it wasn't necessarily forever. Depending on how the show is received, the contract I'm negotiating will be for four years.

I stressed to Addie that I'd yet to tell Patrick. She looked stricken when she realized the move may potentially break us up and began backpedalling about going. I told her that while I love Patrick with all of my heart, I can't ignore all the good that could come to our lives with this move.

Unfortunately, while playing Monopoly, Patrick attempts to engage an unusually quiet Addie, bombarding her with questions about her London friends and whether she'll be going back next summer. I regret immediately asking her to keep secrets from him, and by the conflicted look on her face I can tell she's struggling to keep silent about our move.

"Addie, can you give Patrick and I some time alone?"

She eagerly nods and dodges from the table to her room in obvious relief.

Patrick watches with growing unease in his eyes.

I stand and extend my hand to him. "Can we go talk on the back deck?"

He doesn't follow suit when I grab for my glass of red wine, but does take my hand as we walk in silence outside.

What's going on, Corrine? Why does my gut feel like its twisting before I even know what you're going to say?"

"I've...I've been offered a new show with Public Radio International."

He looks surprised, but cautiously positive.

"PRI? That's great!"

"In London."

His hold on my hand slackens, but does not let go. Patrick closes his eyes and takes a deep breath - remaining silent for longer than makes me comfortable.

"That's wonderful, sweetheart... Well deserved." He looks down at our hands, his thumb idly rubs against my palm. "When?"

My body becomes tingly and numb as our conversation continues. It feels both surreal and devastatingly real at the same time - like a dream where you're falling and don't know when or if you'll be hitting the ground.

"We'd move over winter break to allow Addie to settle in before the school-year resumes."

Patrick drops my hand and runs his palms over his face. When he looks up at me again, he doesn't take my hand back.

"What do you want to do then... about us?"

I kneel down on the ground in front of him, grasping his hands from his lap. "I want us to be together... I... I can't imagine being apart from you!"

Tears bead in the corners of my eyes when faced with the very real prospect of losing a man that has become as crucial to my life as air and water. He reaches forward and wipes an errant tear with his thumb.

Twice he looks like he's about to say something, before stopping himself.

"Fuck... Fuck! I don't know what to fucking say Corrine. I'm happy for you. Proud of you - but this is tough. The easy thing to say would be I'll move there too, start a new business, but it's not that easy. My life is here - my friends, my business, my cabin - I've never considered leaving. I thought... I thought we'd be here together... as a family."

My voice is a whisper when I respond. "I thought so too."

"Will you be coming back?"

Again, I struggle with my words. "Probably? I don't know. The contract is for four years."

Patrick flinches as if I've punched him in the gut.

His voice is tight - his eyes tense. "Four years?"

I nod. Gripping his hands even tighter, even though they remain placid in his lap. His voice is flat when he continues.

"Selling the house?"

I think about the gorgeous custom kitchen he just designed for me, but nod.

"Probably not the first year - in case things don't work out - but it'll be too difficult to manage from over there."

Patrick starts to discuss pragmatics - about the strong rental market and his friend that manages rental properties - but I'm barely listening. I just watch on as an invisible wall begins to build between us.

Eventually we go inside. I half expect him to leave for his own house, but he stays. We brush our teeth next to each other, but he feels a million miles away. Stripped, we get into bed and resume our automatic go to position of him on his back with my head on his chest. It feels good to have his arm around me, holding me tight against him.

"Corrine, I really am happy for you - this is just a lot to take in." He pauses, then looks down at me, capturing my eyes. "I bet Addie is ecstatic."

I nod. "She is. She really is... Frank, too."

"Yes, I imagine he is."

After that brief exchange, we both fall silent, but even thirty minutes later neither of us are sleeping. I begin to ramble a string of consciousness.

"It's doable, Patrick. I'll fly back as often as I can. You can visit us... Tyler and Alex too. I can come home over the summer for a bit - a few weeks at least. I..."

"Shhhh... Just relax. We're not over. I just need to think."

I'm not sure why hearing him say 'we're not over' makes me even more depressed - as if it was qualified with 'yet'. He kisses the top of my head and I know it's time to quiet my mind and try to sleep. My gut feels raw and my heart is aching - I have no idea how sleep will come.

***

Two weeks go by. They're busy ones for us both. He's working on a bar remodel in a restaurant, and can only get in there during early morning or late night hours. My station is scrambling to find my replacement and while I'm plugging for one of my writers to take it on, they insist that outside applicants be screened and interviewed - this on top of my normal work load. We see each other just a few times, with only two sleepovers, both of them at my house since Addie hasn't gone anywhere. This weekend, though, she'll be at my parents who are also reeling from the news - although as faithful public radio listeners, they're already enjoying the bragging rights of my new position with their friends.

Griffin and I arrive at Patrick's house Friday evening - bags packed for the weekend. He's out when I arrive, so I let us in with a key he gave me a while back. Guinness bounces and runs circles around us, so I take the two out back and throw a stick for a while. Back in the house, I see a text on my phone from Patrick.

Take a shower. Clean yourself well - very well. Plug and lube are on the bed. Use them. A dozen clothespins are also there. Use them too. Cuffs and collar already attached to bedroom door frame. Secure yourself facing the bedroom. I'll be home in the next hour. I want you there and waiting for me. No touching yourself.

I'm a bit incredulous. We haven't delved into power exchange in weeks, and it feels odd when there's still so much to discuss. The topic of my move was neither avoided nor sought out - it was just there. Frank and Carrie found a small house for me not to far from theirs, or Addie's new school. It's smaller than my current one, and outrageously expensive, but between my new salary and moving expenses being covered, it's just perfect.

I realize how asexual I've been feeling - consumed by stress and worry over the looming move, new job, and the uncertainty of my relationship with Patrick. I look at the text again, and the faintest pulse between my legs begins to manifest. My tongue darts out to moisten my suddenly dry lower lip, sending tingles through me. Oh, yes. I'm ready for this.

Looking at the time, I realize the text came while I was outside with the dogs and fifteen minutes have already passed.

"Shit!"

My shower is fast, thorough, and efficient. Already shaved, I clean myself well - using two fingers and gentle soap to ensure my asshole is squeaky clean. I wash my hair too, and after toweling dry pull it back off my face in a simple ponytail. Trotting into the bedroom, listening for him, I find on the bed the largest plug in his collection, along with lube.

Damnit.

This is going to hurt. It's been a while since he's fucked my ass - he knows this.

I lube it and my tight hole generously before leaning over the bed and pushing it slowly in. It doesn't slip in easily, and it hurts, but I need it in quickly so I twist it side to side, working it inch by inch, in and out, until it pops past the resistant ring. My belly cramps for a few moments. I allow myself to lean down over the bed until it passes, fighting the urge to play with my clit and pussy which always smoothes the transition from pain to pleasure.

Once my body adapts to the large intrusion, I rise and feel it shift within me - making me acutely aware of it's presence. Stress and anxiety slowly ebb as my focus shifts to the sensations stirring within my body, along with the serenity of knowing that all I have to do is obey. As I reach for the bag of clips, it occurs to me that this is just what I need - which no doubt Patrick already knew.

I pull out twelve of the wooden clothespins. He didn't assign where I should put them, but I know he would want me to challenge myself. He knows my most sensitive spots - the ones that take so long for the initial pain to recede, and even longer when the clips are removed. I spread my legs, pinch a small amount of skin in my inner thigh, just above my left knee, and attach a peg.

Oh, fuck.

Already just one clip in I feel screaming pain shoot up my leg. Before stopping to think, I place another higher up in the same inner thigh. I start to pant and do my best to keep my leg still. Even the slightest jerk of my leg make the pegs swing and achieve new levels of pain. Quickly I place two more on my other thigh. I realize the mistake of starting with my legs, as I have to walk a few steps to the bed to reach the remaining clothespins. In rapid succession now, I grab four more, clipping two on either side of my waist.

"Ow! Shit!" I try not to dance around, I really try, but it feels like twenty bees are stinging where each clip is attached. The burn and ache radiate deep inside of me, but my focus turns to my pussy which I can feel swelling and getting very, very wet. I've stopped questioning my body's response to erotic pain. My lust and hunger are high now, and I know I'd withstand forty more clips at this point if he asked me to.

Lastly, I clip two on the undersides of each arm - on the pale white baby-soft skin. Tears well in my eyes while involuntary gasps escape me. I muse that I didn't clip any traditionally erogenous zones - nipples, cunt lips, clit - but I know that Patrick will be pleased. I eye the doorway, and gingerly walk myself over, keeping my legs spread to avoid knocking the pegs. It hurts like hell.

Along with velcro ankle and wrist cuffs secured to keep my legs spread and my arms lifted and separate, there is a velcro collar with an O-ring in the front. The attached rope, coming from an almost invisible hook above the doorway, is long enough that should I fall there's no way I could be choked.

I secure myself, tremble, and wait. The house is warm - my shivers are purely from anticipation and arousal. I'm not waiting long when I hear his Bronco pull up the driveway, the dogs barking, then the front door opening and closing. I wonder if he'll keep me waiting, but instead I hear him running up the stairs, taking two at a time but slowing as I must be coming into view. He walks up behind me - I can feel the heat from his body just inches from mine - but neither of us say a word.

My body is screaming for his touch... anywhere. I just need his hands on me. In answer to my silent plea, I feel his palms rest on my bare ass cheeks - the heat from them sears into my skin as I press against him. They don't squeeze, or pinch, they just remain there... owning the flesh under them. Slowly they move up my sides until they come to a rest cupping the weight of my breasts. I take in a trembling breath as again they lay their claim. Next, one hand travels to my wet and swollen cunt, covering it entirely without entering it. The other hand slides upwards until it reaches the collar, then rests over it and around the front of my neck. He doesn't squeeze, but the symbolism of my vulnerability is clear.