Whiskey and Rye Ch. 07bysmall_town_girl©
Thank you all for your overwhelmingly supportive feedback -- and those votes!! Oh my gosh you've totally made my week, my month -- heck, you've made my year! I am truly humbled. Thank you.
If you're new to Whiskey and Rye -- welcome aboard! I hope this chapter whets your appetite enough to go back and read the series from its beginning, which really includes its prequel --Lucky Bastard 01-09. Enjoy the read!
The rest of our ride back to Rye's place barely registers as my mind is still reeling with Annie's news. It's hard to believe Dan would want to get back together; he had made it painfully clear that my inability to bear children was an absolute deal-breaker for him. A whirlwind of emotions gathers and churns in my stomach -- shock, old pain, anger at Dan's presumption that he can just waltz back and pick up from where we were... and at myself, for being impacted by it even after all this time and from half-way across the world.
Oh how I wish I were indifferent to this!
Strangely though there is no joy, nor the warm fuzzy feeling of renewed hope. I had fantasized about this happening so many times in the months following our divorce, imagined the happiness and sense of triumphant gratification I would get when Dan realized how wrong he'd been and how he really needed me in his life... But none of those emotions emerge now. Instead I feel... distressed. No, it's more than that -- I am infuriated by the worst-possible timing of his apparent about-face.
I follow Rye out of the cab and up the elevator and stairs and into the apartment in a daze -- though thankfully I do remember to slip my shoes off upon entry -- and without word Rye directs me to lie down on the chaise. He places a pillow under my head and crouches beside me, looking closely at my face.
"Take some time to rest angel, and then we'll talk."
Talk?! About what? And how will I be able to talk and not say anything about this bombshell of a message I just got?!
To hide the panic in my eyes I lower my lids and mumble "okay" before rolling onto my side turning my back on him, feigning tiredness. In fact I am way too tightly wound to sleep but I can't handle him right now. I can barely handle myself right now.
I'm not good with the heavy emotional stuff.
I sense him hovering behind my back and can almost hear the wheels turning in his head as he's contemplating me, but eventually he speaks softly to my back:
"Sleep tight angel. You've earned your rest. You were truly amazing this morning."
I feel his hand squeezing my shoulder and his lips brushing my temple in an almost fatherly gesture before he releases me and turns to walk away. My heart squeezes painfully in my chest and tears pressure the back of my closed eyelids.
I may have been glorious for him this morning, but I'm a cheat and a coward right now. He deserves better from me.
Resolutely I turn back towards him and raise myself to sit up quickly before I lose my nerve -- and the too-quick movement makes my head spin so bad that I seriously swoon, almost toppling over. Rye, who swung back to face me at the sound of my shifting about, is quick enough to catch my arms and keep me upright, but then seeing my ghostly pallor he instantly pushes my head down between my knees.
"Shit, Naomi, don't faint on me. Breathe deep. No, don't try to sit up baby, just breathe."
I take big gulping breaths until the black dots stop swimming before my eyes and the rushing in my ears subsides. I try to straighten up but Rye's hand on the back of my neck stops me and instead he squats before me, bending low so that he can look into my face.
"Wait. Don't get up. Lie down, put your head onto the pillow... there."
He swings my legs up so that I'm flat on my back again, looking up into his somber face, etched with his concern. Before I can say a word though, he straightens and walks over to the fridge and comes back with a tall glass of orange juice, putting a straw to my lips.
"Drink it all."
I comply, relieved to postpone conversation for a few moments longer. But soon the glass is empty and Rye puts it aside, sitting on the low coffee table by my head and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
"How are you feeling now?"
"I'm okay, Rye. Physically I'm fine, really. I just sat up too quickly, that's all."
"Hmmm... Physically you're fine, you say. So how about emotionally?" Damn his perceptiveness.
"I... it has nothing to do with our play session, honestly. I'm just a little... confused right now."
He looks a little less concerned than before, but now I can see some impatience creeping into his expression.
"Naomi, stop stalling and just tell me what's going on."
I hesitate. I know he deserves to know the truth. I've already decided I was going to tell him... but actually getting the words out proves to be even harder than I thought. My lips seem to freeze and my tongue won't cooperate, and I just stare at him mutely.
The changing emotions on his face are fascinating to watch: Only a small trace of worry remains as it is mostly replaced by down-right annoyance and a resolution that hardens by the second. He's quickly going into full-blown Dom mode in front of my eyes, and through my internal turmoil I feel myself responding to it in the most basic, carnal way.
When Rye speaks again his voice is measured, deceptively soft and un-mistakenly menacing.
"Naomi, while I am being considerate of your lack of practice at being submissive for the past couple of years as well as for the fact that you've just been through a pretty intense play session, if you think for a moment you can get away with bullshitting me you are sorely mistaken." His fingers grasp my chin gently but firmly as he tilts my face to the side so that our eyes lock together.
"But God help me, if you don't start speaking within five seconds I am going to put you over my knee and fucking paddle whatever it is out of you. So unless you are craving a very sore behind, I suggest you answer my question. What's going on?"
Shit, he's serious.
Closing my eyes and clutching my fists until my fingernails bite into my palms I blurt out before I lose my courage:
"Sir, I got a text message from Annie while we were in the cab, and it kind of threw me a curve-ball."
Rye looks at me blankly for a moment, and then gets up and walks over to the door, retrieves my phone from my purse and brings it back to me.
With shaking hands I unlock the screen and pull up Annie's message. Wordlessly I hand the phone over to Rye. He takes it and reads the message out loud in an even voice, not betraying his reaction to the content:
"Naomi, we need to talk urgently. Dan was here. He asked me for your number. He says he made a huge mistake. He wants you back, honey. Call me."
I watch Rye's face closely as he reads the text, looking for clues into his thoughts. At first I see none, but then he falls silent, his eyes still focused on the small screen, reading and re-reading the message over and over, and I see his lips purse in a thin line and a muscle twitch in his jaw as he grinds his teeth, his breathing becoming heavier, quicker, huffing through his nose.
Shit, he's furious.
I feel a chill run down my back and anxiety rising and burning in the pit of my belly as I witness Rye's barely-concealed rage gather and build like a brewing storm. But my growing fear is not of Rye -- not in the least; in fact quite the opposite is true. What I'm afraid of is that he'll be throwing me out any minute now. Rye's words when he finally utters them come out quiet and flat, very carefully controlled:
"Naomi, does this change our situation? Do you want to retract your offer to me? Do you want me to take you back to your place?"
I start shaking my head before he completes his question, my voice coming out in an anguished whisper:
"No, no, no... please, Rye, don't do that. Don't kick me out, please." Don't give up on me.
"So, even knowing that your 'ex-husband, ex-Dom, ex-center of your life for 10 years' - as you described him to me just yesterday - is looking for you, saying he's made a mistake and he wants to get back together with you, you still want to be my sub? You're still going to commit to me, knowing he may very well be coming knocking at your door any day now?"
I start to answer but Rye shuts me up by placing a finger on my lips, and the slight tremor I feel in the warm, dry digit is the only outward sign of his tightly-held emotions.
"Think about it before you answer me, Naomi. Imagine it. Be there in your head. Because it may actually happen and possibly very soon. He may be getting his flight ticket as we speak. He may be on his way to the airport. What if he shows up and tells you that he cannot live without you? That he realized you were more important to him than having kids, than carrying on his family name, than any of that dumb crap?"
I want to roll away from him and bury my face in the cushion and cover my ears with my hands. I want to scream, I want to run away from his words. But his eyes penetrate mine and pin me to my place and my words come out hoarse and broken:
"Why are you doing this, Rye? Why are you pushing me like that?"
He bows his head, looking down to the floor, for the first time breaking eye contact hiding his own emotions from me and shaking his head as if arguing with himself before lifting his face again to look into mine, and what I see there shocks me like a blow to my solar plexus. The angry Dom is gone, revealing the honestly vulnerable and compassionate man inside. His voice is as unsteady as my own when he answers with his own question:
"Why do you think, Naomi?"
Tears are streaming down from my eyes to my temples and into my splayed hair, dampening the pillow below, and I feel a sharp painful ache inside my chest.
But again he doesn't allow me to speak yet. He folds over me and gives me a long, clinging kiss, his thumbs caressing my temples tracing my tears, his fingers burrowing in my hair, and his touch and smell and taste become a lifeline, a buoy, promising hope amidst the raging emotional storm inside me. I give myself to his kiss and I melt into it, into him, letting my mouth and my body convey the raw, fragile emotions inside.
It is with obvious reluctance that he withdraws from me, still caressing my jaw lightly when he speaks to me, now with quiet conviction in his tone:
"Naomi, we both know if this text had come 24 hours ago, you wouldn't be here. And even if you did show up, I would've sent you away and told you to figure it out with your ex before making me any offers. Even without this message if your answer to me last night at dinner about your feelings for your ex had been different, if you told me you still loved him, it would have been over then and there."
The pang in my chest becomes an unbearable spear, slashing my insides. I know this feeling. I've experienced it before. It's what it feels like when your heart breaks inside of you.
"But..." He continues slowly and our eyes collide and I see the resolution come back to settle across his face and then intensify into fierce determination with every word he utters.
"But things have changed in the past 24 hours, angel. What we've shared in this short time -- it's enough for me to know that I want you. That you are pretty damn well perfect for me, so much so that it's fucking scary. That you are everything I've been looking for in a sub and a partner -- you're smart and you're fun and you're sexier than should even be legal and such a natural submissive that you take my breath away."
His voice gathers momentum now and it comes out deep and vibrating, wrapping around us and filling the room.
"And there's not a chance in hell I would gracefully bow out now like a fucking gallant gentleman and let that fucker weasel his way back and steal you away from me. He's had his chance and he fucking lost it. Now it's my turn!"
Oh my God. Am I dreaming this?
I start feeling warmth spread in my belly at the same time as I feel its pit drop -- a heady combination of awe and joy and thankfulness -- and I watch wide-eyed at the flush of anger flooding Rye's cheek-bones and his Adam's apple bobbing up and down while he visibly struggles to contain his emotions. He breathes deeply through his nose and pushes the air out through his thinned lips until at long last I can see the hard edges soften on his face and when he speaks again his voice is steady, his eyes burning into mine.
"I want you to call Annie. I want you to tell her to give your ex your number. Or even better, just call him yourself directly. I want you to talk to him -- as soon as possible -- and finish whatever un-finished business you still have open between the two of you. Because, angel, as of right now, I have officially accepted your offer. You are mine. My sub. My woman. Nobody else's. You got that?"
I am momentarily speechless while his words sink in and all I can do is throw my arms around his neck and burrow my face in his shoulder and nod my head up and down emphatically, sobbing my relief, squeezing him to me as hard as I can and feeling his arms wrap around me in a gratifying, crushing hug.
"Yes, yes, yes sir! Thank you, thank you, thank you..."
Rye's arms tighten even more to the point of pain and I squeak and after another second he relaxes them and pulls back to look into my eyes, his anger transformed into a feral, intense look, not quite softened by the smirk curving his lips upwards as he throws his leg over my body to loom over me, straddling my legs, grabbing both my wrists and pushing them into the chaise above my head, locking them under in one of his hands, grinding his hot, heavy bulge between my thighs.
"Ah, angel, remember what I told you earlier... you really should be careful what you wish for. Because from now on this is mine..." He lets his free hand roughly maul my breasts through my top. "And this is mine..." his hand move down to grab and clutch my ass. "And this is mine..." the hand moves forward and pushes its way between my thighs to palm and squeeze my whole pussy hard. "And this is mine..." His hand buries itself in my hair as he takes my lips in a rough, deep, bone-melting kiss. "And I am going to make sure you remember that by staking my claim over... and over... and over again until your holes are fucking molded to the shape of my dick and you can't even think because your mind had melted by the pleasure... consider yourself warned!"
Oh my fucking lord I think I've died and gone to heaven.
With a brilliant smile I answer loud and clear: "Yes sir."
Rye lowers his head to my smiling lips and murmurs "good girl" into them, and then looking into my eyes he adds: "I know you're way too tender to properly celebrate yet... but I do believe you've earned yourself a reward for making the right choice just now" he grins triumphantly, cockily -- 100% the confident Dom again - and starts sliding down my body, pushing my skirt up to bunch at my hips and grabbing hold of the waistband of my panties to slowly tug them down.
"Sir I don't know if I can... I am so sensitive right now."
Throwing the flimsy undergarment back over his shoulder he bends down to softly kiss my inner thighs which part for him as if they have a mind of their own.
"Shhh baby... I know you can't take any more fucking right now, but I can still make you feel so good... I promise I'll be gentle, I just need your pussy so bad right now I can't help myself..."
My heart flips in my chest at his admitted lack of control that speaks volumes to the depth of his emotion. Rye settles on his knees at the foot of the chaise and links his arms under me to grab my thighs and pull me down a little so that I am in perfect distance for him. He then pushes my legs open so they dangle down to the floor on both sides of the chase, opening me wide though not nearly to the point of strain, keeping from any discomfort.
His palms rest warmly at the top of my thighs, his fingers barely grazing the creases on both sides of my pussy and he bends down and unhurriedly touches butterfly kisses and tiny licks to my pink labia, his tongue and lips reverently worshipping my folds. When I start rolling my hips in small circles his palms press me further down into the cushions to keep me still.
"Relax into it angel. Don't try to work it... we've got all the time in the world. Just close your eyes and let yourself be pampered for a change."
I do as I'm told, letting my mind dissolve into soft off-white light behind my closed eyelids as I succumb fully to the unimaginably sweet pleasure he's giving me. True to his words he does not fuck me -- not even with his fingers or his tongue. Instead he keeps alternating between fluttering kisses and sleek, wet little licks along my over-used, raw tissues, paying special care to the tender dark-pink opening of my vagina and the tighter, slightly swollen ring of my anus, letting his ministrations heal and calm the abused nerve endings and bruised flesh.
I lose track of time and almost drift off when his touch changes ever so slightly, his pace increasing just a bit, his pressure just a shade firmer as it trails deliciously slowly up my slit, and by the time he reaches my clit it is already elongated and engorged and my breath is quick and shallow. Rye presses his open palm onto my lower abdomen letting its warmth seep into me and it feels as if he's cradling my womb in his hand, while he cups my whole pussy with his other, leaving only my straining little pearl exposed. In the next moment he covers it with his hot, wet mouth and starts suckling on it ever so gently, his tongue bathing it with lots of warm saliva.
He takes his time working his magic, keeping the pace easy and the pressure light, building me so gradually that my peak sneaks up on me, sweeter and gentler than any I've ever had, expanding from my core outwards, making my honey ooze down my crack and leaving me tingling and glowing and truly moved, breathing in deeply, dreamily.
"All mine." Rye whispers into my glistening pussy and kisses it softly before crawling back up my body stretching out on his side and rolling me over to face the cushions at the head of the chaise, snuggling close to spoon my back and muttering into my ear:
"You know it was quite some time ago that I told you to go to sleep angel. Under any other circumstances you'd already be carrying a bright-red bottom for such blatant disobedience and failure to follow a simple instruction... and I still have a half-mind to give it to you after you've napped anyways, just to make sure there's no doubt as to who owns your pretty ass. So rest now while I'm feeling generous."
While my heart rate picks up at the promise in his words, I am truly exhausted from the emotional roller-coaster ride I'd just endured on the heels of our gym session, as well as from my recent orgasm. I wiggle and snuggle my ass back into him so that his stiff cock nestles comfortably along my ass crack and mumble sleepily back to him:
"That would be lovely sir..."
He growls deep and grinds back into me once more and tightens his arms around me. "Sleep, angel. Now."
My eyes flatter open a few hours later and I roll to my back with a smile, which turns into a wince when I stretch. Fuck but I'm achy all over. I hear the scratch of iron chair being pushed back in the tiny study area behind me and I crane my neck to see Rye stroll back towards me, holding his hand out when he reaches my side to help me up to a sit.