Waking Kiss Page 5

  A flush crept across her cheeks. She thought for long moments, like she was putting together some big, enlightening answer. I waited patiently to be enlightened, but in the end all she said was, “I don’t have one.”

  I leaned closer and whispered, “Do you sleep in the fort?”

  She got the same look on her face that she had when Rubio pulled the rose out of her bag. Embarrassment, guilt. A bit of horror.

  “If you do,” I said a little louder, “I’ll pretty much think it’s the coolest thing I’ve ever heard. I guess it’s possible that you sleep on your couch, but the fort would be so much edgier.”

  “It’s not edgy,” she said, fighting a smile. “I can explain it, actually.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  She looked over at the pile of blankets. “I grew up in a super religious family. My mom and dad always threatened me about the devil. They said he wanted to possess me, that he was always watching me and making me do bad things.” She bit a fingernail and looked back at me. “At some point, I got this idea that the devil lived under my bed. After that, I couldn’t stand to be in one.”

  This was all kinds of fucked up. “So you don’t have a bed because a devil might be under it?”

  “I just don’t like beds. Anything could be under them. Devils, monsters. Spiders.”

  Your parents, I added silently. I glanced at her fort. “So, blankets have devil-repelling qualities?”

  She shrugged. “A devil hasn’t gotten me yet.”

  Ha. You’re sitting across from one.

  “Can I go inside?” I asked, standing and crossing to check out the sprawling structure. The sides were propped up with hinged gymnastics mats, one red, one blue. A white and yellow floral quilt spanned the top, along with a couple smaller fleece blankets. There was only one pathway to crawl in.

  She hustled over and got in my way. “I don’t think it’s big enough for you.”

  I leaned down, peering through the opening. There were more blankets and a small mattress inside. “Oh, I could squeeze in there, but then there wouldn’t be much room for you.”

  She stared at me. She wasn’t blushing anymore but had paled almost to the color of her quilt. “You really want to go in?”

  “Yes.”

  She let out a breath, and her hands opened and closed. She had to know what I wanted to do to her under those blankets. I didn’t think I’d made much of a secret of it, especially after the way I’d kissed her out in the hall. She looked like she wanted to invite me in, but was too embarrassed—or nervous—to do it.

  I straightened, giving her some space, and walked around the sides like an appraiser doing an inspection. “We can make it a little bigger, can’t we?” I knelt down and started pushing the mats to the side. At first I worked alone on the renovations, then she joined me, lifting the quilt and repositioning the fleece blankets to fit the new, wider layout of her fort…or her bed.

  God knew I didn’t deserve to go into her safe place, but when she slipped through the curtain of the entrance I dropped down and crawled in behind her. I’d come here to fuck Ashleigh Keaton. There was no way in hell I was staying out.

  Chapter Four: Rough

  I couldn’t remember if I made blanket forts like this when I was a kid. I did know that I’d never been afraid of the devil. I’d been at home with darkness and violence from an early age, but this was not a violent space. There were flowers printed on the quilt-roof and more blankets to cover the inside walls. We both squeezed onto the narrow mattress. I was a clumsy, ill-fitting intruder but she accommodated me as best she could.

  Once we’d situated ourselves, she reached above her head to a small shelf behind the pillow. She clicked on one of those LED lights made to look like a candle. It flickered and everything. I could see the glow of it in her eyes. Then I noticed the photos of Rubio pinned to the sides of the blankets.

  “Oh, no,” I said. “Some devils got in.”

  She reached out to touch one of the pictures. “I used to really like him.”

  “Do you still like him? If you say yes, I’ll lose a little respect for you. Just keeping it real.”

  “I don’t, I guess. He almost made me cry today at the theater.”

  My teasing mood darkened. “What did he do to you?”

  “He ignored me. He’s always ignored me but…” She let out a long, shuddering breath. “Today it made me feel pretty bad.”

  “Down they come.” I started yanking them loose, being careful not to mess up the blankets. “You have a pen or a marker? We could draw faces on them.”

  She laughed, even though it was a miserable laugh. She took a scrapbook from under her pillow and pulled a pen out of it. The scrapbook was bursting with clippings and photos of Rubio.

  I forgot all about drawing faces and stared. I could tell the scrapbook had been put together with care and looked at a lot. I’d sensed last night that she was sad about Ruby, disillusioned, maybe even heartbroken, but in that scrapbook I saw the physical manifestation of all she had lost. “I’m taking this book,” I said gently. “Throwing it on a bonfire or something. Because I know him, and he doesn’t deserve this. No.”

  “But he’s a legend. He inspired me.” She gave me a pleading look. “Where am I going to get my inspiration now?”

  I tapped her chest. “How about here? You have a thousand times more heart than him. I bet you could dance a thousand times better than him if you tried.”

  I could tell she thought I was talking shit. Maybe I was. I hunched over and flung the photos and scrapbook out the doorway of the fort. I didn’t want anything of Ruby’s in there while I was finessing my way between her thighs. I lay back down and looked around the soft walls. “This place is growing on me, Ashleigh. It’s very cool.”

  She smiled, a sweet, shy smile that made my cock jump. “Your house is cooler.”

  “It is not.” I touched the tip of the fake candle. “I like your retro lighting.”

  “I used to have real retro lighting, real candles, but fleece isn’t as fire retardant as you’d think.”

  “Oh God.”

  “No, there wasn’t a fire. Well, just a small one.”

  I put a finger to her lips. “Hush. I’ll have nightmares. I’ll have to buy you a real bed for my peace of mind.”

  She rolled a little away from me. “I wouldn’t sleep in it.”

  “You just need to find a bed that feels as safe as this place,” I said, pulling her back toward me. “They make them, you know. Beds with curtains and canopies.”

  I was surprised how much I wanted her to feel safe. I didn’t kiss her anymore but I left my hand where it was, cradled near her waist.

  “Tell me about you and Rubio,” I said. “What happened onstage to make him so angry with you?”

  She shook her head. “Every bad thing happened. Everything that could possibly go wrong.”

  “I didn’t notice anything bad from the theater seats. You should have told him to fuck himself.”

  She stared at me like I was speaking a foreign language. “I’m not allowed to talk to him. I’m not supposed to make eye contact with him. None of us are.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  I took her hand and brushed my fingertips against her palm. “I thought he was only an asshole at my parties. I didn’t realize he was an asshole at work too.”

  “It’s hard to believe, isn’t it? When his dancing is so inspired?”

  I ran my fingers up her arm, pulling her closer. She stiffened but she didn’t do anything to stop me. “Sometimes it seems that talent is given indiscriminately,” I said. “Money too. Sometimes it seems that the least deserving people have it.” I fell squarely into that group. I curled a bit of her black hair around my thumb. I wanted this girl, entitled asshole that I was, but I didn’t deserve her. “For the record, I think your dancing is inspired.”

  She turned her head to avoid my gaze, and her hair pulled around my finger. I might have rele
ased it then but I didn’t. Our bodies were so close, her slender one aligned to my solid frame. I was ridiculously erect. I’d never raped a woman and I never would, but if I could have, I would have ripped off her tight little sweatpants and buried myself to the hilt inside her.

  In the midst of my lurid fantasies, she reached back and switched off the flickering candle. We were plunged into blanket-covered darkness. Was it an invitation? I let go of her hair and glanced around, and then I saw the stars above us. Not stars—flowers. The flowers of Ashleigh’s quilt were luminescent, irregular dots of light over our heads. She was so close beside me. I felt warm and amorous, and utterly detached from the world. It was just me and Ashleigh in our dark universe with flowers for stars hanging over our heads.

  “Can I ask you something?” she said.

  “Anything.”

  “At your party, when you said you wanted to play with me…”

  I went very still. Don’t ask. Don’t ask what I wanted to do to you. Ashleigh’s delicate nature spurred my vilest fantasies. Force and restraint, torment and invasion. I wanted to fix her to a rack and flog her until she was sobbing, and then pillage every one of her holes until she begged me to stop. Then I wanted to lock her away where no one could touch her, where I wouldn’t even let her touch herself. I wanted to take away her safety and make her long for her mats and blankets. I wanted to clamp her and plug her and chain her and train her to grovel at my feet. When she was completely broken, when her will and soul were mine, then I’d give her mats and blankets back. That’s what I wanted.

  I didn’t know how we got to that place from this little enclave of flower-stars. It didn’t even seem worth it to try.

  “If I played with you,” I said instead, “what would you want me to do? It’s dark,” I added when she didn’t answer right away. “That means you can say whatever you want. What are your fantasies?”

  “I don’t…” She sounded breathless. “I don’t have any.”

  “Tell me. I won’t judge you.”

  She turned toward me in the darkness. I could barely make out her features. “You’re the dominant, aren’t you? Why don’t you tell me?”

  “Tell you what to fantasize about? That’s pretty hardcore submission, but we can start there if you like.” My fingers threaded through hers. “Now, what kind of fantasies should I force on you? It can’t be anything too scary. You’re new at this.”

  “You’re making fun of me.”

  “I’m playing with you,” I corrected her. “Forced fantasies. Very hot. But if you’re not into that, let’s try again. What would you like me to do?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe…make me do things. Tie me up?” She sounded uncertain, like she needed me to judge her answer.

  “Okay.” My fingers slipped from hers to circle her wrist. “That first ‘B’ in BDSM stands for bondage. Being tied up or restrained is a common kinky fantasy. Do you think you’d like that?”

  “I don’t know. I thought the dominant decided everything in BDSM. I didn’t think you’d give me so many choices.”

  “Does that appeal to you? Not having choices?”

  She shook her head. “No. Yes. I don’t know.”

  “Let’s try it out and see.” It only took me a second to grab both her hands and trap them over her head. “Struggle for me. Try to get away.”

  She pulled with her arms first. For a small woman she had surprising strength, but she was no match for a guy my size. When she couldn’t escape my hands she used her body to try to wrench away. Before she started using her legs I cinched them under one of mine. She really started fighting then and while I let her squirm around a little, she couldn’t get very far. The more she struggled, the harder I got. “Okay, enough,” I said when I reached critical mass. “Be still.”

  She was breathing fast and so was I. I leaned down and kissed her, and she smiled against my lips. “You’re strong,” she said when we parted.

  “So are you.” My eyes were used to the darkness now. My leg was still slung over hers and my erection was about two inches from her hip. I desperately wanted to jab it between her legs but she was jittery and I doubted she’d welcome it. This seduction was turning out to be a marathon, not a sprint. I sighed and scooted back from her. “That’s physical bondage. Pretty exciting, right? Especially when you’re having other things done to you at the same time. There’s also mental bondage, which can get even more complex.”

  She traced her wrists where I’d held them. “Is that like, messing with people’s minds?”

  “In a way. It’s like saying, I’m going to touch you wherever I want and you’re not allowed to move a muscle. Or working your partner into a frenzy but not allowing her to come until you say she can. I like to set up situations where my sub has to use her own willpower. Her desire to submit. To obey.”

  She was silent a moment. “That’s really intense.”

  “Some people play really intensely. Dominants, submissives, masters, slaves, even ponies and toys and fucksluts. You name it. Other people just top and bottom for pleasure and call it a day.”

  “Like Rubio?”

  “Yes. He’s too impulsive and selfish to get into the lifestyle-role stuff. But he’s a responsible top. He finds like-minded people and makes sure they enjoy themselves.” I shrugged. “Different strokes.”

  “You’re not like that.” It wasn’t a question.

  I sighed and rubbed my forehead. “No, I’m not like that. I prefer to engage with my partners on a deeper level.”

  “You fall in love with them?”

  Whoa. How did she leap from D/s to love? Because she’s vanilla, idiot. “Love is… Love is another thing. People who exchange power don’t have to be in love. Or love isn’t…you know…central to the proceedings.”

  “Oh.” I could see the wheels turning in her head, I just didn’t know which direction they were going. “So you could…” She paused and tilted her chin. “So you could develop a deep BDSM relationship with someone, play with them, have sex with them, and still have no strings attached?”

  I couldn’t tell from her tone what she thought of that. “Some people do it that way,” I hedged. “A lot of people in my social group. Rubio does it that way.”

  “What about you?”

  “Yes,” I admitted. “I prefer it that way. I prefer to play with no strings attached.” I hoped she wouldn’t ask me why, or expect me to spill out explanations and excuses.

  She didn’t. What she said was, “Can you do that with me?”

  Jesus Christ. Could I do that with her? I’d be glad to. Should I do that with her? Probably not. I’d never tried to “turn” a girl before, never attempted to bring a vanilla girl into the fold. I didn’t know if I had the skill or the patience, and more importantly, I didn’t know if she had the strength to stand up to me if I pushed her too fast.

  But she was so, so beautiful. I looked up at the stars that were really flowers and thought about vanillas who were really kinky folks waiting to be born. I wanted her, ached for her here in our little haven from the world. I wanted her sex and her submission, her kinky innocence and nervous fidgeting. Her beautiful full lips and her soft voice and everything that made her different and compelling to me.

  “Yes,” I said. “I could do that with you. But it might not turn out the way you expect.”

  “I hope it doesn’t,” she said under her breath. I should have taken a moment to figure out what she meant by that, but I was busy drawing her willing, hot body into my arms. I was glad now I’d brought that rose over here. Genius idea, although it wasn’t from the performance, just a florist. She’d never know. I was glad I’d managed to soothe her nerves and seduce her into this crazy little fort. As I kissed her, I traced up the contours of her back to her nape and pulled her closer into my embrace. I wanted to feel her skin against mine. I pushed her sweater back and eased it off. My cock was so hard it was about to bust through my jeans.

  “Liam,” she whispered.

  I stopped
and inclined my head to hers. “Yes, baby?”

  “I want you to do what you did before.” She bit her lip. Our faces were inches away. “I want you to hold me so I can’t get away.”

  Hot excitement arced through me. I didn’t see us developing any serious D/s thing in the future, but if holding her down got me inside her faster, I’d play along. “Give me your hands.”

  I took them in mine and pinned her with my chest. She lifted her hips against me, sending jolts of arousal to my balls and cock. I used one hand to trap her wrists over her head, and the other to caress down over her lithe body. Her hips were curvy but firm and when I moved, they moved. I licked her neck and nibbled at her jaw, daydreaming about the things I could do to her if she was as kinky as me.

  “I love the way you feel, baby.” I kissed her lips again, delving inside to taste more of her hesitation, her curiosity. My hands tightened on her wrists. “I’m going to touch you everywhere, wherever I want, and you won’t have a choice in the matter. We’ve already figured out that you can’t get away from me.”

  She murmured something sweet and acquiescent against my mouth while I moved my hand lower, over her form-fitting sweatpants to the vee between her legs. “I wonder how you like to be touched,” I said. “I wonder if you like to be fucked hard or soft. There are so many things to discover about you.” I cupped her mons, gave it a little squeeze.

  She tensed. “Don’t let go of me.”

  “I won’t.”

  She made lovely, aching sounds while I groped her through her pants. My hand could practically span her pelvis, she was that petite. There was a novelty to our disparate sizes that excited me. I felt like a giant around her and I had to subdue the urge to be more brutal than she could take. I thought I’d die if I couldn’t feel her and taste her. I dipped a few fingers into the edge of her waistband and when she didn’t stop me, I slid my whole hand in there, inching down to discover hot, welcoming wetness. She made a sobbing sound as I traced a finger over her clit. “Do you like that, baby? Does it feel good?”