Break Me (10 page)

Tenderness lay banked in the blue depths, concern, too. But lust and heat were most prominent. “Are you sure you want this?”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and nodded.

He shook his head. “No. You have to say it.”

“I want this,” I whispered softly.

“No, Claire. You have to tell me what you want. Nods and words like this or that, aren’t good enough.”

I took a deep breath, ran my tongue around the inside of my mouth, and held his belt out to him. “I want you to use this… this belt on me. I w-want you to spank me.”

“Jared. Say my name, Claire.”

“I want you to spank me, Jared.” The second the words left my lips, his smile covered his face. He was so beautiful when he smiled at me like that. He’d done it in the café the day he told me to say his name for the first time. He was teaching me the same lesson. I’d get it eventually, especially if it got me the reward of that look.

“Good girl.” He took the belt and helped me to my feet. My knees screamed in discomfort, but not enough for me to say anything. They’d hurt more when he was done with me on the bench. Oddly, I was looking forward to the discomfort. “Panties and bra off. Get into position on the bench.”

He placed a kiss to my forehead and paced the room, taking practice swings with the belt. He tested it’s length when not folded, and tested it’s snap when it was. I didn’t flinch as I watched him. I was mesmerized by the muscles in his back, the way they moved beneath his skin with each swing he took.

When I was completely naked, I was immediately covered in goosebumps. The rooms were always a little cool because of the body temperature rises that usually followed during play.

Getting into position on the bench didn’t come as easily as maybe we both expected it would. It was just me kneeling on the padded knee-rests and lowering my torso over the center, then resting my arms on the padded armrests. It was a piece of cake for someone not flooded with the memories of the last time she’d been on that exact spanking bench.

Jared was at my side without my having to say a word. He wrapped an arm around my back, and took my hand with his free one. The warmth of his body seeped into me and as I melted into him, he helped me into position. The leather padding on my front contrasted with the heat against my back. Jared’s weight held me to the bench and I was grateful for the support, for him knowing, for his instincts taking over. “Thank you,” I offered softly.

“You’re welcome. You tell me when you’re ready. We have all night.” He stroked me, first with his hand, then lifted off me, and stroked me with the belt. I wasn’t afraid of it or him, but I appreciated the moments he allowed me to gather myself and to get used to the feel.

I rested my head against the bench, folded my hands over the end of the armrests, and lost myself in the moment, the position, the significance of what was about to happen. I was in a place I never thought I’d be in again, a place that just a few days ago, I swore I’d never be in, never wanted to be in.

But it was the right place. This was the right time. Jared was the right man. Sometimes a soul simply knows when it’s met its match. I’d had it once before, a soul that matched mine. But I’d been a different person then. Grief and loss had made me a completely new person. Submitting to Jared would change me even more and make me into someone else. Into the woman I was supposed to be at this point and time in my life.

I lifted my head and looked over my shoulder at him. He walked around and lowered himself in front of me. I smiled at his ability to simply
know
. “Claire?”

“I’m ready.”

He kissed the tip of my nose and disappeared from my sight. I closed my eyes, relaxed into his touch when he stroked my spine with his fingertips, and never even heard the belt fly through the air.

It connected with a harsh, but dull thud. The second strike came almost immediately. Both butt cheeks had felt the sting. The next blows crossed the others and I imagined an X marks the spot reference might be appropriate in a lighter setting, in an easier moment.

Stress knotted my muscles the more he pelted my behind and the backs of my thighs with the belt. I knew this feeling, the one inside my body, the coiled tension, waiting to get out, waiting to break free. That’s what I was waiting for, what I needed most of all.

Tenderness gave way to a pleasant numbness and when The feeling of Jared’s hand caressed the areas he’d abused, the contrast was startling. Everywhere he touched, I felt like I was on fire. Everywhere he pinched, smacked, stroked added more flames, more coiling. Something in me resisted the release I was so desperate for. It wasn’t sexual, it was a final purging.

“Please,” I begged through dry lips. “Please help me.”

Jared rounded the bench and stood in front of me. He unfastened his pants and his cock sprang free. I opened my mouth without a second thought. He slid in, out, then back in again until he could get most of his length between my lips.

If I could’ve sighed in that moment, I would have. It was pure pleasure that coursed through me. Pleasure that had nothing to do with any thought of myself. Pleasure that had only him in mind. But it wasn’t even about getting him off. It was him knowing what I needed even though I hadn’t had a clue. I only knew I needed something more, something to push me deeper.

The belt connected again with my behind while I sucked him. It was a different place in my head that he tapped into. I couldn’t focus on just one thing, so I lost myself in his cock, in not biting him, in existing as a vessel for him. I lost myself in the moment.

And that’s when it happened. That’s when I felt it begin to leave my body.

I lifted my hands from where they held the bench and grabbed for his hips. He shuffled forward, pushing more of his cock into my throat. I gripped him tightly, keeping my mouth right around him. I sucked him harder, I wanted his come. I wanted the very essence of him inside me.

His strikes measured with the minute movement of his lower body as he drove himself in and out of my mouth. I did nothing more than hold on, giving myself up to him, giving in to what I had asked him for.

The coils loosened the longer he belted me. I was going to bruise. I was losing sensation in my backside. There would be welts and there would be no sitting comfortably for several days.

My lips would be stretched and my jaw would hurt for those same several days.

My throat would be raw and scratchy and swallowing would hold its own discomfort.

But the ease in my body, the stress and pain gone from my muscles would be worth it all.

The submission to this moment would be worth it all.

Tears tracked down my cheeks. Of course tears…

Jared shoved in, pressed my face to his groin, let me up to breathe, then forced himself into my face again. He held me there, gagging on him, his orgasm flowing down my throat. Both his hands grasped my head and he humped my mouth until he’d emptied everything he had.

I swallowed, cried, swallowed, and when he loosened his hold and made to pull out, I dug my nails into his legs and he stayed, allowing me to suck gently, to clean him, to stay physically connected to him for a few moments longer.

When I let him fall from my lips, he knelt on the floor and wrapped his arms around my shoulders and held me through the sobs that wracked my body.

I was free.

I was broken.

He’d broken me.

He’d broken me out of the cage I’d locked myself in.

And he would put me back together.

Chapter Ten

Jared

The stack of pancakes were all but gone and I was amazed at her appetite. Okay, maybe not. I was nearly done with my own stack. And I wasn’t sure if we would be ordering more or not. I was leaning toward yes, more.

The diner had been Claire’s idea. If she knew Jo worked there, she didn’t say. All she alluded to after we left
The Club
, was that she was starving and wanted pancakes. I couldn’t say I blamed her.

Her cheeks were still flushed, her chest still a little splotchy. She looked as though she’d gone for a run, an aerobics class, something, some form of exercise.

And she shifted in her seat. A lot.

Every time she did it, I saw it and I smiled. She’d scowl and grumble and call me, “Bastard.” But what was I supposed to do? She’d asked for the belt and I’d given her what she wanted. She’d wanted the purging and I’d given that to her, too.

For as long as we were together, I’d give her whatever I could, whenever she asked.

“You doing okay?”

She glanced up at my question, a forkful of pancakes hovering between her plate and her mouth. “Hush,” was all she said.

“I don’t mean that.”

After she finished the bite and wiped her mouth with her napkin, she stared across the table at me. “I think so. I mean, it feels different. I feel different. Lighter inside. There are patches of darkness, of sadness, but overall, there’s light.”

I nodded. She’d thanked me. She’d drained me, both physically and mentally. She took everything from me in the playroom and she gave everything in return. She took the belt like a goddess, and my cock like she was born to suck me dry.

There’d been something profound in the exchange between us at
The Club
and I didn’t mean my semen down her throat. No, it was more than that.

I’d gotten her to crack enough to let me beneath the surface and she was as beautiful in submission as she was in her defiance. Tim had had it right with her. She was something special, something incredible when she let her guard down.

I knew grief manifested itself in different ways with different people. I’d witnessed enough of it in the Corp. I’d watched those who’d survived turn to anger, to violence, to destructive behaviors because they didn’t know how to let it out. I’d been invited to several weddings as widows married as soon as they could, usually marrying the buddies of their deceased husbands. And I’d seen others, my superiors, bury the pain of death deep inside, becoming hard and bitter. I’d seen combinations of what Claire had done, too.

For some it took weeks or months for the healing to begin. For some it took longer. But there was always something that brought the pain to the forefront. There was always a catalyst that started the avalanche of emotion.

I guess that’s what I turned out to be for her.

There was no denying that she appeared changed. That the lighter feeling she talked about was real. Jet and Lucy had been hanging around in the hall when we emerged from the playroom and had taken Claire in an embrace, all while Jet glared daggers at me. I understood the message clearly. I wouldn’t hurt her. Not on purpose anyway. Not emotionally. Not mentally.

Tim couldn’t help leaving her and no man in his right mind would walk away from her willingly. I hope one day she was able to forgive him for it.

Just as I hoped I’d one day be able to forgive her for trying to snag the bacon on my plate. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She shrugged. “You didn’t seem interested in eating it and it seemed a shame to waste it.”

“You never take bacon from anyone’s plate, but especially mine.”

“What makes your plate so special?”

“That it’s mine. And I’m the Dom. And I said so.” I nodded with definitive authority before folding the piece of pork in half. I stuffed it in my mouth.

“Uh huh. The Dom.” But the words were said with a smile. She was playful, smiling, looking less drawn and less severe than the first day I met her. “Are you going to take me home?”

“I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

The waitress dropped the bill on the end of the table. “Will there be anything else?” I shook my head and set money down for her. “Keep the change.”

“Your place or mine?” Claire asked when the waitress walked away. Her fingers fiddled this time with the edge of an unused napkin.

“Mine.” I didn’t ask her. I had a feeling that’s what she was getting at. She was looking for someone to make a choice. Not that she didn’t have free will. Not that she didn’t or wasn’t capable of making choices all on her own. She’d proved that she could, that she would when backed into a corner, when there was no one else to make choices for her. “You like that, don’t you?”

“For you to decide? Yes. I’m not weak. I just… I just want to be, to let go, to do as I’m told. I don’t want to shoulder everything all the time.”

“No, you’re not weak. I know that about you. You’re a strong woman. Capable. But I know what you mean. I don’t like taking orders. I don’t like being the one to follow. I prefer to lead, to choose.”

“Then we’ll get along fine.” She stood, gathered her bag, and offered her hand to me. “Take me home.”

I took her fingers and folded them into my palm. “Claire?”

“Jared.” She nibbled her lip and stared at our connected hands. “Sir,” she whispered.

I smiled. Sir, indeed.

I sent a silent thank you to the heavens as I led her outside and to my truck. I’d take good care of her as long as she’d let me, I told him in my head. I’d break her, too, as often as she’d let me, but I’d always put her together again.

* * * * *

Claire

The day was cool, but not unbearably cold. The sun shone bright. It wasn’t quite noon yet, but it was close and I wanted to be there at the brightest part of the day.

The first anniversary of his death, I closed the store and café. I visited the cemetery. I brought flowers. I laid on the ground and wept. Then I’d gone home and done the same. I’d crawled into my bed and wept until I had no tears left and I slept, escaping the pain of his being gone.

This was different. I still closed the store and maybe I always would. I don’t know. Tim probably wouldn’t like that. He’d want to be honored by the store being open. He’d hate the business we were losing by being closed.

“Maybe next year, I’ll compromise and only be closed half a day,” I said to his headstone. “It’s hard to believe, you’re gone, Sir. It’s always going to be hard to believe.” I glanced over my shoulder. Jared stood by his truck, hands in his pocket, eyes trained on me. He’d be at my side in a flash if he thought I needed it. I looked back at the headstone, at the flowers I’d brought, at the name etched in granite. “You’d like him. I know you would. He’s not like you, but he’s what I think I need now. And he doesn’t want me to forget you. He doesn’t want me to never talk about you. He wants me to remember, to share memories with him, to remember what you taught me, what you meant to me. I don’t know if you sent him to me. I don’t know how these things work, if they even do, but he showed up at just the right time and I like to think he was a last gift from you.”