Authors: Roxy Harte
She isn’t ready for the type of experience I want to give
her. She’s intrigued, but curiosity isn’t enough.
I should be the one running from her. I could lose myself in
my lust as I never have before. She could bring out the very worst in me.
When I do follow, after I’ve turned off each light and
allowed my boiling blood to cool, I find her waiting in the foyer. I close the
door abruptly and it slams harder than I’d planned. She jumps. Her eyes widen
and suddenly she is crying. She buries her face in her hands and I feel like a
total and complete ass. I say her name softly but nothing else follows.
Awkwardly I go to her and make a horrid effort of comforting her. She looks
into my face, her eyes damp, her full lips parted. I see all of her doubts and
fears and need caught in her expression. Insecurity. Innocence.
God, I want
her.
I tip her chin to look into her amazing eyes. “I shouldn’t
have brought you here.”
“You intrigue me, George.”
I look at her doubtfully.
“When I didn’t see you for so long… I was trying to forget
you, but I would lie in bed at night thinking about what you might be doing
with other women. I imagined you tying them up, spanking them. I feared I might
want you to do those things to me. I forced myself to not call you—but then I
needed an escort to the dinner—and there was no one I would rather go with.”
We stand so near I can feel her trembling. I stroke her
cheek to calm her.
“I was wrong to present you with an ultimatum so early in
our previous courtship. I just couldn’t see a future with you…and I couldn’t
afford to fall any more deeply in love with you.”
She keeps leaving me gaping at her. Her nose is red and her
mascara leaves a black trail over her cheek. ″I see now, I did make the right
decision then. I should not have called you, George.″
I lead her outside into the gardens. The fresh night air
immediately helps me feel better. I hope it works for her. The trickle of water
from hidden fountains, the scent of recent blooms and the soft song of crickets
combine to make poolside a very relaxing place.
She seems to calm. “I never imagined rooms of torture.”
“I can understand why you would believe that is what you
saw.”
She frowns deeply. “How else can you explain it?”
“I can’t. BDSM must be experienced.”
She shakes her head, and I know any further effort to help
her understand will be wasted. When she sits in a cushioned chair I join her
and angle my seat to face hers. A chorus of crickets and Pacific tree frogs
fills the silence.
“There is a special magic here,” I tell her softly. “I find
the gardens very healing.”
She lays her head back against the cushion and covers her
eyes with her hands. Her shoulders shake and for a moment I think she is
crying, but she isn’t, she is laughing. “Is it any wonder my mind is like a roller
coaster? One minute you are showing me the most horrible things and the next
you bring me to this perfect place. I do not know what to think or what to
feel. I love you, but the fear of what you might do to me is too great.”
“That is the second time today you have professed to love
me.”
“I am obsessed with you. I spend too much time thinking
about you, imagining where you are and what you are doing—who you are with. I
am jealous and lustful,” she admits. “Is that love?”
I don’t say anything and Lin looks away.
“I guess when we were seeing each other before—it seemed we
were getting serious—I believed I did love you.”
I was falling in love with you too.
“I am both fascinated and repulsed by what you do for a
living. I cannot in my wildest dreams imagine introducing you to my
grandmother—not as a professional Dominant—perhaps if I could have introduced
you to her as a successful psychiatrist…the sting that you are not Chinese
would have at least been lessened.”
My eyebrows go up. I’m alarmed but I wisely keep my mouth
shut as she continues speaking.
“I was married before. My grandmother arranged the
marriage.”
From past conversations I know that after her mother died
her relatives sent her here from China to a father who before she arrived
didn’t know she existed at all. He was Caucasian, married and an affluent
businessman. His answer to her arrival was to immediately send her to a
European boarding school. It is understandable that as an adult she saved every
penny to bring her grandmother to the United States.
“I did not love him. I didn’t even particularly like him.
And when he rutted on me, it was not a pleasant experience. When my husband
died I told my grandmother I would never marry again unless it was a man of my
choosing.”
I barely control my reaction. Why am I so shocked to learn
that her grandmother would use her influence to coerce Lin into such an
antiquated tradition? But it also suddenly makes sense why she had pressured me
in the past. “Before—you wanted to introduce me to your grandmother?”
“It was only a worry back then. How would I ever introduce
you to her if it became necessary? And how would I ever meet someone
appropriate as long as I was obsessed with you? You see the impossible
situation I was in?” In a rush she admits, “Now my grandmother is pressuring me
to marry, because I am expected to continue the family line and I’m not getting
any younger.”
Marriage?
“Lin, are you suggesting—?”
“I would be a good wife to you. I would be faithful. I would
bear your children. I would even overlook
others
if you choose to have
relations outside of our marriage bed. I would only ask that when you meet my
grandmother that it be as Dr. George Kirkpatrick. I would not require you to give
up your current,” she struggles before saying, “occupation. I would only ask
you to never reveal it.”
I stand. “Lin, I don’t think—”
“I’m sorry. I’ve completely caught you off guard. I’ve made
you uncomfortable. Of course you do not want to marry someone like me—” She
covers her mouth with her hand, her eyes threaten fresh tears. “I’ve made you
angry.”
I squat in front of her, taking her hands in mine. “I’m not
mad. I’m confused. How have I led you to believe I’m a normal man in pursuit of
normal relationships?”
“You never misled me. You have been honest. Brutally so.”
She bursts into tears.
Awkwardly I pull her against me, patting her back. “Lin,
it’s going to be okay. There are many men who would jump at the chance of
marrying you. You are kind, beautiful and so talented.”
She pulls back and meets my gaze with a sudden boldness.
“Because I fear your kink?”
“Because I don’t believe a piece of paper creates a
relationship, and if you remember—I told you the first time we went out—I’m
polyamorous.”
“Is it very arrogant of me to believe I could be enough
woman for you?”
I hold back the laugh that boils to the surface with the
innocence of her ideas, and while I don’t believe in
the one
, I am
intrigued enough by the woman that I do not want to part ways as of yet. I say
teasingly, “A little arrogant.”
“I cannot explain why, and I’ve argued with myself for
months that I should not call you, but I can’t seem to find a single other man
as intriguing as I do you. I want to see you again…maybe because I am terrified
of your deviance. I believe you are
the one
.”
“I had a lovely time at dinner—but I can’t promise you that
our relationship will ever lead to marriage.”
Sighing heavily, she stands and it becomes obvious that she
is trembling. “I should go.”
“Please don’t. I like you very much. I enjoy every moment we
are together. I don’t want our evening to end on an ugly note. Let’s talk over
a cup of tea.”
“Tea?”
“Yes. In the kitchen. The kitchen isn’t too sinister, is
it?” I give her a look of innocence that makes her giggle and then take her
hand and lead her from the garden.
I’ve lost my mind. I should stop this before it goes any
further but I can’t. I look into her eyes and I’m swept into another world.
It’s a place of hopes and dreams long forgotten. I feel as though I’m floating
on a cloud of fantasy and it’s every bit as powerful as my usual aphrodisiacs.
Love.
Marriage.
Children.
I need someone to slap me. Wake me up. Instead I make tea in
a dazed fog and carry it to the table where we sit and talk.
I ask about her sculptures and listen enraptured as she
passionately explains her work. After several minutes she blushes and drops her
eyes. “I am talking too much.”
“I love to hear you talk.” I lift her chin, willing her to
meet my gaze. When she does, I can tell by her expression she wants to ask me
something. “What?”
“What is it like for you? Your job?”
“I suppose that for me being a Dominant is much like being a
sculptor is to you. I’m able to be myself completely. It’s a passionate,
creative outlet.”
Lin makes a face, trying to hold back a smile. “I do not
make people orgasm.”
I chuckle, saying jokingly, “You never know.”
Her eyes widen. “No, no, no. I won’t even consider that!”
Leaning forward, I hug her face in my hands and drop kisses
on her cheeks. “I love the expressions you make.”
She catches her bottom lip between her teeth.
Standing, I take her hand and pull her to her feet. Without
a word, I lead her to my bedroom. As if explanation is necessary, I admit, “I
want to make love to you.”
“Should I undress for you?”
Oh that’s right, we’re both still completely dressed.
My cock tightens as she lifts her arms to undo a button
behind her neck.
“Let me help you.” I turn her around and unfasten a short
row of buttons.
She unzips a side closure at her waist and then pulls the
dress over her head, leaving behind a thin silk-and-lace slip.
Still standing with her back to me, she looks over her
shoulder at me and slides her arms from the spaghetti straps holding the
delicate lingerie. The fabric falls as she lifts her hands to the bun twisted
at the nape of her neck. I take in her smooth alabaster skin. Suddenly her
waist-length hair falls in an inky black cascade to hide her strong shoulders
and narrow waist from me.
Perfume rises around us and I realize it’s coming from her
hair.
“God, Lin. You’re so beautiful.” I push her hair aside to
kiss her shoulder. From behind, I wrap my arms around her to cup her breasts
through a stiff lace bra that has thick padding. I don’t want to squeeze
fabric, I want to touch her bare skin, and I slide my hands beneath the cups to
find her warm flesh.
Her breasts are small and I massage them gently. Her nipples
too seem small—tight, firm buds beneath my palms—and I can’t deny myself the
lure of their temptation. Turning her in my arms, I bend to suck her nipple and
my cock grows harder and more impatient.
She reaches behind herself to unfasten her bra, and I am
still sucking hungrily on her flesh when the fabric comes away completely. I
take my mouth to her other nipple and am pleased when she cries out, seeming as
needy as I am.
Or maybe I am just being too rough.
“I need you, Lin.”
“Yes, yes, George.” She pulls out of my grasp and climbs
onto the bed. She is still wearing her panties. I am completely clothed.
I manage to get my tie pulled off and my shirt unbuttoned
before I cover her. I am too impatient to completely undress. I feel like a
hormone-ravaged schoolboy as I claim her mouth with tongue and teeth. She meets
my urgency with an equal passion and tugs my shirttail free. She slides her
hands beneath the fabric.
I like the feel of her small hands sliding over my chest,
helping to push my shirt off. Her hips buck under me, seeming to beg for the
impossible, at least until I get out of my pants.
She fumbles with my belt, the metal fastener and zipper, but
finally gets my pants loose, my underwear pulled down enough to expose my cock.
The air seems cool on my newly bared skin.
“I need you now, George!”
Previous dates have never brought us this far. The barely
functioning logical side of my brain demands a condom, and I rummage
gracelessly in a bedside drawer. She shimmies out of her panties as I tear the
package and slide it on.
Her impatient hands meet mine, trying to help or maybe hurry
the process.
“Now, George! Now!” She wraps her legs around me and pulls
me down to meet her upward thrust. I impale her fast, deep. Her breath sucks in
as I find her depth shallow.
I push deeper and she cries out.
“My God, Lin, you’re so small. So tight.”
“You are just big, George. Too big.” She grunts and I
realize I may be hurting her.
Withdrawing completely, I reach into the bedside drawer for
lube and apply a liberal amount with my fingers. I finger-fuck her. Watching
her face, I pull out, but not completely, and thrust back in, going a little
deeper. “You’ll stretch for me.”
Her eyes roll back and her eyelids flutter closed.
I push deeper, two fingers and then three. She moans and it
is no longer pain-filled. I press the tip of my erection into her, still
massaging her with my fingers. When I am sure she can take my girth, I push
into her tightness. “Take it, Lin. Open for me.”
“Ahhh! Ah! Ah!”
I back off but immediately thrust again, harder, deeper,
burying myself to the hilt.
I hear her breath suck in, but she doesn’t exhale.
“Breathe, Lin, in and out.”
She finally exhales and her eyes open to meet my gaze.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
I start pushing in and pulling out, setting a rhythm. My
need is almost boiling over when I see her expression change, her breath
quicken. I hold back until I see pleasure building in the depths of her eyes
and then I ride her hard, feeling her responding beneath me. Her hips rise
again and again to meet mine.