The Three Rs (15 page)

I nod, beyond speech as my body begins to convulse. I’m squeezing down hard on the vibrator, wringing every shred and tingle of sensation from it on my headlong descent into orgasm. It doesn’t take long, not long at all before I’m moaning and convulsing in his arms. He tightens his embrace, holding me close while I shatter.

“This is for you, baby, all for you. Enjoy. Take more, take all you want. Squeeze it, grip it, it’s yours…” His voice is both soothing me, and urging me on as he murmurs words of encouragement in my ear.

And I do. I take all I want, all I need, as he holds me safe. The vibrator nestled deep inside me is strong and powerful, overwhelming my senses. But it is nothing compared to the raw, unrestrained potency of Cain Parrish as he cradles me gently in his arms and the rest of the world falls away.

And I fall in love.

As the final aftershocks of my climax drop away, Cain rolls me onto my back. He uses the remote control to slow down and eventually stop the throbbing in my pussy then pulls a pillow under my shoulders. Satisfied I’m quite comfortable, he parts my legs and removes the vibrator. He drops it lightly onto the carpet, to be followed by the lube then positions himself between my legs. He has a condom in his hand. I’ve no idea where he produced it from, but he clearly keeps his supply within easy reach. He snaps the foil and is ready in seconds. Which makes two of us.

“Now, honey, you get me. Okay?”

I can only nod, but in this moment if he asked me for my last kidney, I think I’d give it up to him gladly. He can take absolutely anything, everything. I’m his.

He thrusts forward, filling me instantly. I moan my welcome, lifting my legs to hook my ankles behind his waist. The angle provides better access, and he surges even farther forward, his cock nudging my cervix as the vibrator did earlier. Not satisfied even with this, he loops his arms under my knees and lifts me further, now holding me still and exposed, fully open to him as he starts to thrust in earnest. He quickly finds a rhythm, pumping faster, his balls slapping against the lower curves of my bottom as he picks up speed. He fucks me hard, deep, powerfully, and the muscles in my pussy clamp around him in avid response. My body spasms wildly, any fragile, brief interlude of control scattering as the churn of fast approaching release again seizes me.

He must be aware of my response, seems to be reveling in it as he increases the pace, racks up the pressure. My body is coiling, tightening, my muscles clamping in readiness for the final, explosive climax. I don’t hold it back, couldn’t if I wanted to. I feel utterly powerless in this moment, my body surging on, completely under his control. I shatter, gloriously, brilliantly, my head a firestorm of dazzling lights as every nerve ending stands to attention then leaps off the cliff with me. And I know Cain is there too, spinning mindlessly as he mutters something singularly obscene in my ear before plunging once more into me, to the root, and holding still as the heat of his semen fills the condom.

Afterwards, as we lie side by side, I’m still panting from the exertion though I’m not at all sure I did any of the work. Cain drops a light kiss on my mouth.

“Well, that killed half an hour. Do you want to start your shower while I get us some coffee? I seem to remember you saying you might benefit from some, though I can’t really find anything to complain about so far.”

“Idiot.” I lightly punch his side then I remember something. From earlier. I stiffen, and he knows immediately.

“What is it, Abbie?” He rolls me onto my back, cupping my chin.

His eyes are on mine, and I can’t look away even though I want to. He’s going to press me, insist on—what—something. He’ll demand I tell him whatever’s on my mind, but I’d much rather not. Not yet. I had what I can only describe to myself as a ‘moment’ back there. As he held me, as the wondrous ripples of pleasure streamed through me, as I lay vulnerable and shaking and totally protected in his arms, I had a moment when I knew I loved him. I love him now. And will, into the future.

But it’s no good, it’s no use at all. I’m not who, or what, he thinks I am. He imagines he’s making love to a business partner, co-owner of his building firm. Maybe even some sort of soulmate. And what am I really? Some functionally illiterate girl who can’t even write her own name without counting the letters to make sure she’s put enough in there? And still it’s touch and go as to whether they’re in the right order

For the first time, I’m dissatisfied with my life. Truly, properly dissatisfied, so much so I might even contemplate doing something to rectify matters. Always before I’ve made excuses, put off seeking help, managed to get by. Now, a future filled with getting by seems less attractive. For once, and maybe for the first time, I have a reason to want to change. For me, for my own reasons, and not because someone else told me I should. But I don’t want to share any of this. Not yet. For now I want to hug it inside me, explore and taste it. Get to know this new me, and maybe find a way to let Cain know me too.

“Abbie, tell me…”

I shake my head, my eyes closed as tears prick and inexorably start to leak. He sees, wipes them from my cheeks with his thumb.

“I came on strong just now, I know. I upset you. I’m sorry…”

“No, it wasn’t that.” And I don’t really know what he means—there’s no way he upset me.

“No? Then what? Tell me, Abbie.”

“It’s nothing. Just me.”

“We had great sex. Well, I think it was great?” He waits, clearly needing some sort of confirmation.

In fairness, I can do no less. “It
was
great. More than great…”

“So, if the sex was so great, why the tears?”

I try to shrug it off. “It’s just me, I get emotional sometimes.” Yeah, well that’s half-way to being the truth. Not bad, by my standards. ‘Emotional’
could
describe my reaction, at a pinch.

“Abbie, promise me this is not because I called you a slut.”

“No! Why would I…?” I’m astonished, genuinely.

“I scared you. I know I did…”

I’m staring at him now, more than a little confused. “I’m not sure…”

“Exactly. You weren’t sure back then either, when I got heavy about how wet you were…”

Ah, yes.

“So I pressed you on it. Deliberately. Bullied you a little perhaps. I know you were off balance, unnerved. You were meant to be.”

I remember it now, more vividly as he talks me back through it, and yes, he did intimidate me. I recall I wanted him to like me, and approve of me, but it seemed I’d done something wrong. Then he called me a slut, and yes, that did sting a bit. But I’ll forgive him anything if he can produce orgasms like that for me. I tell him so, and his smile is one of knowing.

“That’s how it works, sweetheart. I can touch you in lots of erotic, exciting ways. I can use toys, like today, or my hands, my tongue. My cock, which I’ll readily admit is my personal favorite.”

Mine too, probably.

“I can suck your nipples, your clit. Finger-fuck you into oblivion. Would you agree so far?”

I nod dumbly, wondering if perhaps I’m a little too easy to please. Cain doesn’t seem to be getting at that though, and in any case, I’ll take what I can get in life, right? He pauses for a moment, his slate gray eyes intent now.

“But the most erogenous zone on your body isn’t between your thighs. It’s the one between your ears. What goes on in your head is a far more powerful turn on than anything else, so I worked on your head. A mind-fuck, if you like. I forced you to acknowledge your body, and to be attuned to your responses. I asserted my dominance over you, brought your submissive side to the surface. If you let me have control, if you trust me, I will take care of you. You will have what you need.”

“How did you know? That I was scared? I didn’t say.”

He traces the outline of my lower lip with his fingertip as he watches me, watching him. “Your eyes, sweetheart. I can see your fear there. And your submission. It’s heady stuff, and quite, quite beautiful. I can see it now.”

“I’m not afraid now.”

“Perhaps a little. But it’s submission I’m seeing now.” His voice has softened to not much above a whisper as he drops his mouth to mine, brushes my lips with his. I open my mouth and his tongue slides inside, as I submit again. Long minutes later, he breaks the kiss, slowly withdrawing his tongue as my head spins madly. I’m trying to take it all in, to make some sense of what’s happening here.

Seeing my confusion, perhaps, he’s in no hurry yet to leave our bed. “Do you understand what I’m saying to you? What’s happening here, between us? And you do know, don’t you, that your safe words are your safety net?”

I frown, trying to process everything that’s happening. It does make sense, sort of. He is most definitely the dominant partner here, in every way. And I’ve naturally let him take that role. I’ve deferred to him, and he’s taken good care of me. Excellent care, in fact. If I’ve been responding instinctively, my instincts have served me well. They usually do. He tuned in almost at once to my secret fantasies and made them come true. I expect that’s why he’s been so ridiculously easy to fall in love with. I’m head over heels, and it’s not even seven o’clock in the morning yet.

I don’t say that though. I say nothing about the L word. Instead I smile, and I nod, and I lean up to kiss him back.

Chapter Nine

“Right. You, shower. Me, coffee. I’ll be joining you so don’t nick all the soap.” Cain rolls out of bed and in almost the same motion, he’s grabbed his jeans and pulled them on, though he leaves them unfastened. He smiles at me as he leaves the room, headed for the kitchen. I take the hint and hit the shower. A few minutes later, Cain slips in behind me. He very kindly washes my back for me, paying particular attention to the valley between my buttocks, so I feel it’s only reasonable to reciprocate. In spite of our sensual ministrations, however, we manage not to end up fucking like bunnies on the shiny white tiles. I’m already totally sated from the glorious interlude when we first woke up, and I get the impression Cain really does want to get to work.

We get dressed, drinking our coffee as we go, then it’s a quick bowl of cereal in the kitchen. I never usually want to bother with hairdryers and straighteners and such things in the mornings, and Cain doesn’t seem to mind me just brushing my wet hair out and leaving it to dry naturally. He’s probably quite relieved really as it’s clear now he’s itching to be off. By seven-forty-five we’re in the van and headed down the road toward the small builders yard and office about a mile away.

“It’s an easy enough walk back, if you want to do that. I’m often out on sites until quite late so you don’t have to wait for me. It’s pretty much a straight road.”

I take special note of the route, but he’s right, it’s straightforward enough. And in just a couple of minutes it seems, we’re pulling up in front of the locked gates. Cain hops out and removes the chunky padlock, and we’re quickly inside the yard. I clamber down from the passenger side of the van, eying the small stone built office block warily. The building is on two stories, and I understand my flat is the upper floor. If it
is
still my flat. It does seem to me that our domestic arrangements might have shifted rather in the last forty-eight hours.

“Phyllis usually gets in around quarter-past or half-past eight. I’ll show you around, where the coffee is, that sort of thing, until she arrives. She’s the best one to give you the guided tour of the spreadsheets and suchlike.” Cain unlocks the door to the building and leads the way in. He stops just inside to disable the beeping alarm system, then gestures for me to follow him.

I doubt anyone could teach me around a spreadsheet, but I keep that grim observation to myself as I warily follow Cain into the small but quite tidy office space. No doubt I’ll screw up before too long and it’ll be obvious enough. I wonder for the umpteenth time as I follow Cain through the door into the nerve center, which is Phyllis Benson’s domain, why on earth I don’t just come clean.

But I haven’t, and I’m not about to, so here I am.

And suddenly, so is the redoubtable Phyllis.

“Morning, morning, sorry I’m a bit late. My Stan just wouldn’t let me go this morning, wanting extra cups of tea, his paper, his tablets. It’s a madhouse sometimes, round at mine. And the buses are no help. I had to wait nearly twenty minutes. I was hoping to get in before you did, get the kettle on so’s Miss, Miss…?” Her torrent of chatter stops as she contemplates what she should call me.

I rush to get my answer in before Cain does. “It’s Abigail. Abbie. And I’m delighted to meet you, Mrs Benson.” I step forward, my hand outstretched. I want her to like me, and this seems as good a way as any to start.

Mrs Benson takes my hand, shakes it warmly. “Phyllis. Just call me Phyllis, dear. Welcome to Parrish Construction. Have you had the guided tour yet? Not that there’s much to see…”

“I was just about to, but now that you’re here…” Cain smiles warmly at Phyllis, and is that perhaps a hint of gratitude that now he can leave me in her capable hands? Sure enough, “I could do with getting over to the warehouse site in Rothbury, and if I get off now I should be there by ten. I want to supervise the delivery of that dressed stone if I can. You’ll be okay with Phyllis.” He turns to me and I’m half-expecting a kiss, but this is his office environment so he just nods politely as he moves toward the door.