Wrecked (The Blackened Window) (36 page)

“Please,
Xander!
I’m gonna come soon. I can’t stop it!
Please
!” The last was nearly a scream of panic. I didn’t care where I was, who was watching. I didn’t care about anything but him, his lips and waiting for the words. My brain was foggy and I didn’t need to think. It was beautiful.

He smiled and proceeded to pour hot wax over both our chests, saying, “Now.”

We came, screaming. The wax was hot and intense and my orgasm rocked me so hard my eyes watered.

The crowd around us had swelled to probably about thirty people and several of them started clapping. I’m sure it wasn’t my tears specifically that made them clap, but the timing was suspicious and there were a few surly-looking Dom-types, who did seem to be particularly amused by my crying. I shuddered, too wrung out to really care why anyone around me was doing anything.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Xander

Temper Trap,
Sweet Disposition

I stood, holding another Dominant’s sub as she shuddered, watching Leda sob, wanting nothing more than to wrap my girl up in my arms. Seraphim knew I wanted to attend to my own sub, just as she wanted to attend to her girl. She released the knots and turned off the vibrator.

I distantly registered Seraphim taking Thing down, getting her wrapped up in a blanket.

But Leda was all that mattered for me right then. “Hey, honey girl. Green?” I untied her, kissing her lips softly, kissing the inside of her wrists over the redness left by the rope.

Her eyebrows lifted, worry in her voice. “More?”

“Maybe. Are you okay after that?” My voice was low, letting the loving boyfriend speak more than the stern Dominant. I untied her ankles and she stepped a little away from the wall.

“Okay?” Her voice held disbelief, a little laughter. “Yes. That was insane.” She was a little breathless. She pulled her skirt back to see her very small welts and bruises. They looked delicious. I lowered myself to my knees and licked and kissed her skin.

Some would say kneeling in front of my sub wasn’t domly, worshiping her bruised body wasn’t hardcore. They could fuck themselves. Nothing was more dominant that doing whatever I wanted to with her.

I stood up and wrapped my arms around her, pressing into her. I took her in, her smeared makeup, her fading perfume mixed with the clean smell of her sweat, her soft breath against my chest. “You smell so good and look so wrecked. It’s amazing. I want to fuck you. Now. Green?”

She looked at me with doubt. “I don’t know.”

I had to be in her and if she wanted me to take her somewhere else I would, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to plant myself in her in front of everyone. I wanted them to know she was mine, in every sense of the word. I wanted her to know it. I wanted to show it off. I wanted to revel in her submission. “I’m not asking permission, Leda. We’re beyond that.”

Her eyes widened and her breathing picked up speed as her body tensed in my arms. After only a few moments, the worry left her eyes and she melted into me. Soft, pliable in my arms.
Fuck yes.

I waited a few beats longer to be sure. It was the tricky thing about BDSM. Her consent was key, but it was true—I wasn’t going to ask permission.

When she only leaned into me more, her breath catching at the touch of my fingers, I hitched her up by her ass and wrapped her legs around me. We matched up well, my restrained cock pressed against her panties. I wedged her against the wall so I could free a hand to get my cock out. As I did, I brushed against her soaking wet panties. I grabbed that wet little bit of cloth and yanked it aside—slipped deep into her. I stayed still, watching her face, watching to see if this would be too much. Watching to see if I was miscalculating and fucking everything up.

“If you don’t want this, give me your safeword.” My voice was hard, strained with how much I wanted to be bouncing her on my dick, but I waited for her assent. She said nothing, just left her forehead against my shoulder. “Then I’m assuming you are green.”

She lifted her head—shy look on her face—and nodded. She flushed hard and I saw it. She was mortified, but turned on. I had to push her, make her give up her shame. Even as she nodded, the walls of her pussy rippled against me.

“Fucking say it, Leda.”

“Green.” She gasped it out and dropped her gaze in shame.

I rolled my hips, sliding against her slickness. I felt her hot wet tears splashing against my chest. The world stopped a bit, my mouth went dry. “Look at me.”

She lifted her head, eyes all big and liquid, mascara running down her cheeks anew. She was right there with me, in the moment, no fear or evolving trauma in her features. It was indescribably sexy. “When you cry, I want to fuck you so hard.”

I slammed into her, pushing her against the rigging on the wall. It was hard and she absorbed it, accepted it, but sobbed and her tears nearly undid my control. She shifted, changing the angle of our connection.

“Oh Jesus!” She moaned the words out and closed her eyes.

Nope, you are right here, with me.
“Don’t close your eyes. Look at me.”

She opened her eyes and looked at me, but I shifted her around so I could grab her chin and force her to hold my gaze. She wound her arms around my neck and her tears stilled. The sleepy look she got in subspace washed over her face, her body slackening in my arms.

She sighed. “Thank you, Xander.”

Her eyes were on mine, so close I could see the flecks of white and cool gray in them.
Thank me? Jeeeezus. I love her.

“Say it again.” I pounded my cock into her over and over, pounded her back into the bars on the wall.

She whispered right against my lips, “Thank you.”

I growled some obscenity and came, grinding into her as hard as physics and our respective anatomies would allow.

For a moment, I just rested there, holding her up, my forehead against her shoulder. She dropped her head and nuzzled under my chin, all wrapped around me. After a few beats to catch my breath, I carried her to the back wall of the dungeon space. A couch was tucked into a little alcove there and a few people were sitting on it when I approached. They all got up at the look on my face. They had just watched our scene and knew what we had just been through. They knew we needed a place to rest.

Leda naturally moved her legs around as I sat down, so she knelt around me, straddling me. I reached under her, to put my cock away and let her have a little modesty back, but she jolted up, hands on my chest, eyes pleading.

“No! Don’t, not yet.” Now she cried again, losing it and dropping back onto me, clinging to me. It killed me to see her falling apart. I wanted to be her glue and put everything back together again.

I kissed her hair, stroking her back. “Little girl, what is it?”

She spoke, her voice thick with her tears. “I don’t know. It was intense and sex in public and I just… I don’t know. And I’m upset about being apart for a week and a half. I just don’t want to lose you sooner than I have to.”

She cried harder and I held her. At one point, Jason and Christy approached, serious wariness in their expressions. I waved them off and they left again, but concern was etched in their features. They didn’t understand. They weren’t D/s. They were just kinky.

But I knew what she was feeling. Knew isn’t the right word. I
understood
what happened to a sub, the mental rollercoaster of playing like this. It was fun. It was torture. It was sexy and it was scary. And she’d be feeling wiped out, exhausted, maybe guilty, maybe angry. She’d need me and hate me and love me all at once.

She needed safety, security, softness, tenderness. I had all of those for her. “Okay, honey girl. I’ve got you.” I shushed into her hair, rubbing her back. “We’ll just stay right here as long as you want.”

All the fear and fight went out of her and she cried until she stopped on her own. It seemed like forever because I couldn’t make it stop, because I had done this to her. Certainly with her consent, but I had caused it, nonetheless.

As she rested, melting into my chest, my own thoughts spiraled. I felt like the biggest fucking monster in the world.
I fucking love this girl and I want to destroy her like this. I want it. I want her tears and her wails and her blood and her bruises. What is wrong with me?

I generally didn’t get Dom-drop, but I was sure this was it. That war in my mind knowing that I would want to do this again, despite what it did to her. Knowing what it did to both of us. I was fucked up enough to keep wanting it. Twisted because I liked that it hurt and we had to recover from playing so hard.

My mind flashed to some vanilla sex and watching some TV afterward. It was so goddamned bland that I couldn’t ever imagine wanting that.
So I’m a monster. I am what I am and I don’t want to change.
My acceptance of myself settled me. I needed to know she didn’t hate me, but only when she was ready. Once I had that, I’d be fine.

Her breathing had evened out and I brushed her hair away from her face. She was fighting to keep her eyes open. I shushed her again. “I’ve got you, little girl. You’re okay now.”

Her eyes fluttered shut and I saw how bruised they looked, small burst blood vessels from how hard she had cried. I took a deep breath and shifted to fix our clothes, put my dick away. I dropped my head back on the back of the couch, just stared at the ceiling. Relishing the weight of her on me that I felt her with each breath. The tickle of her hair against my ribs.

Sometime later, as I sat there, Seraphim brought our things to us. Her eyes were full of concern and she sat next to me, her girl-slave on her leash at her feet.

“Are you well, Xander?”

I cleared my throat. “Yeah, I’m all right.” My voice was tired, but I tried to play it off.

“It’s okay to be a little heartsick at how she falls apart. You’re only a shitty person if you destroy her and walk away, leave her a mess when she really needs you.”

I glanced at her. Her eyes were full of the knowledge of how much this could hurt. She rubbed her girl’s hair, pulling her face against her leg.

Seraphim always came across as one seriously vicious and evil bitch. I didn’t know much about their relationship outside of the D/s dynamic. I didn’t know if they were together or if they only played together.

“Can I give you some advice?” She leaned toward me a little. I nodded. “I’d get her out of this space. When she wakes up, she’s not gonna want to be right here, close to where all this shit happened.” She stood up, gently pulling at the leash. She looked back at me. “All this”—she waved at me and Leda, vaguely indicating our situation—“only means you love her.”

I stammered, trying to respond, not really ready to have anyone make that kind of declaration for me, but she only scoffed at me and walked away, smiling.

I took her advice and carried Leda up to the VIP lounge. I sat on the couch and laid her out with her upper body resting against me. One of the cocktail servers, a super-androgynous person named Slick, brought some water.

Jason and Christy found me again and asked how it went. I was noncommittal about the experience. I was still working through my own weird, mixed response to it. They didn’t push it. Ultimately, Leda woke, looking around, all sleepy-eyed and sweet.

She asked to leave and I was happy to take her home, but wanted her to rehydrate before we left. She took a tentative sip of water then gulped the remainder down.

I would have carried her out to the car, but she nudged me a bit to get her feet on the ground. I still kept my hands on her until I had her seat belted in the car.

I took her back to her apartment, half carried her up the stairs, tucked her into her bed. I took a short shower, needing a little space from her for a few minutes. In the shower, I rested my head against the wall—wanting and not wanting this—for the rest of my life.

“Jesus Christ, Stone. Get it together,” I muttered to myself as I got out of the shower. I dried off, pulled on some shorts I had left at her place a few weeks ago. She had washed them and set them out, on top of her dresser, like she wasn’t sure what to do with my stuff in her space.

In her bed, I wrapped myself around her. I told myself it was to help her feel safe, even in her sleep, but I knew I lied, at least a bit. I did it for me, because I loved the feeling of her in my arms. Her breath expanding against me, pressing into me. I tried to stay awake and savor her, but fatigue pulled me into sleep, sooner than I wanted.

* * * *

The next morning, I ran my hand over her hip, pulling her against me and she woke, smiling softly over her shoulder at me. Her face was a wreck. Makeup smudged and smeared all over, hair a mess. But her smile was perfect. Serene, content.

“Let’s take a shower, Boss.”

She ran the water, superhot the way she liked it. I stood back watching her get clean, all pure again. Renewed. The water on her body sparkled and her skin got rosy from the heat.

All I could think about was being away from her, and how much I didn’t want it to be happening. A higher order, more rational part of my brain was telling me to grow the fuck up, but this was different and she was different and I didn’t want to lose my new toy. Even I knew I was being a total chump, knew it was bullshit to just call her
my toy
. I loved her. I knew I loved her, but it felt cheap to say it, right before we got on planes going to different destinations.

We ate breakfast in near silence. Just some eggs and fruit she needed to use before she left for the break. I watched her eating, her eyes faraway. It was the worst kind of anticipation.

When she stood to clear the dishes, I pulled her into my lap and rested my lips against her damp hair. She smelled like everything I wanted, everything I never really thought I could have. She shifted a little and looked at me with concern.

“Mmmm. I’m gonna miss you.” There. I had said it, at least that I’d miss her.

“Yeah. I hate this. Wait here, just a minute.” She smiled as she walked to her bedroom.

When she came back, she was fighting a big smile and had something hidden behind her back. When she got to me, she handed me a small present, wrapped in silver paper. There was a small tag—
Yours, anytime.