Page 75 of To Save Him

I might have thought in the days of the phone camera and how so many younger people were into the selfie craze that it was near impossible, but I knew that Gabriel had told me they couldn’t have phones in their secret mission or project or whatever the hell it was he’d signed up for. Programwas what Brandon called it.  So having no pictures of the two of them together was not impossible to believe, no matter how sketchy it felt.

He touched my cheek with his fingers and gave me a slight smile.  “I wish I did.  Some days…I almost forget what he looked like, you know?  It’s weird.”

Just that thought made a profound sadness wash over me, and I’d already cried far too much that day, so I stood.  Brandon cocked his head and got up from his chair as well.  In silence, we shut off the lights in the house and made our way to my bedroom.  Once the door was closed, he said, “I want you to have some say in what we do and I want you to feel comfortable with our choices, but make no mistake.  Once we’re here,I’min charge.”  I wasn’t sure why he’d felt the need to say it, but I nodded.  “Where do you keep your robes?”  I led him to the closet and opened the door, showing him where I had the few I owned at one end.  I didn’t wear them in the summer because they were too warm, but they were ready for me once the house had a bit of a chill.  While he was examining the ties, though, I remembered a cute little black satin robe I’d received as a bachelorette party gift, something I’d worn off and on the first year Mel and I were married—but now it was tucked in the back of a drawer.  Hell, I didn’t even know if it would fit properly now that my hips were wider.

The sash, though…

While Brandon examined the functional robes in my closet, I moved to the dresser and felt around in one of the drawers, lifting pieces of lingerie I hadn’t worn in years, finally grabbing hold of the short black robe.  “What about this?” I asked, pulling the tie out of the loops.

Brandon turned from the closet, one hand still on a robe belt.  “Perfect,” he said, walking over to me.  He took it in his hands, pulling at it as if to test its strength.  “Yeah, I think this’ll do.”  He looked at me then, a bit of a smirk on his face, and said, “You ready for this?”

Part of me wanted to protest, to tell him he couldn’t have me whenever he damn well pleased—and yet it made me feel delicious and desirable…and thrilled to know that he wanted me often.  I was most certainly ready—but part of me was tempted to stamp my feet just the same so I could see what other punishments he had for me.

But I didn’t want to go there again—not yet, anyway.  Instead, I nodded.  Pliable.  Willing.  Ready and eager to please.

And wet.

He considered me for a moment.  “I can’t decide if I want to have you strip for me—or if I want to undress you myself.”  Either possibility could be exciting, because I’d have either his eyes or his hands touching me.  I could feel a smile trying to form on my face, but I pursed my lips together to make my mouth behave.  “Hmm.”  His hands gripped the black sash as he pondered his options.

Then he took the tie and draped it over his shoulder, moving his hands to the bottom of my shirt.  “I think I’ve decided.”  He pulled the shirt up and I had to raise my arms so he could pull it over my head.  But he didn’t move it farther, instead leaving it covering my face, slowly, agonizingly bringing it up more, one inch at a time, until my lips were exposed.  My arms were still stuck in the air but I felt his lips brush mine as his hand held the shirt steady.  After giving me a luxurious kiss, causing my muscles to tense up, he pulled the shirt the rest of the way off my head and I lowered my arms.

He then began fingering the lace at the top of my breasts, and my nipples responded, hardening underneath the fabric of the bra.  I could feel my breath quicken and lighten as I eagerly awaited his touch.  It seemed to take forever but I wanted to enjoy each moment, so I closed my eyes.  Not only could I savor his touch that way, but I could also avoid his burning gaze.

There would be none of that, though.  “Open your eyes, Kimberly.”  I did, meeting his stare.  And then he spoke again.  “I want you to see what I do to you.  I want to burn the sight into your mind.  You can’t focus on something else if you’re watching what I do.”

That was true, and I nodded.  I looked down at his hand then, grateful that I at least wouldn’t have to maintain constant eye contact.  He splayed his fingers and slowly dragged them down and over the mounds of my breasts, causing the nipples to pebble again.  “Tell me how it feels.”

I opened my mouth.  I was willing to speak but unsure of what to say.  I could write about sex all day long in the stories I told, but telling my lover about the sensations he delivered to my nerves and senses seemed almost impossible.

I had to try, though.

I sucked in another breath and swallowed as I searched my brain.  “Uh…stimulating.”  He nodded and I could see the corner of his mouth twitch as if ready to break out in a huge grin.

“Good.”  He swirled his thumb over the center of one breast, where my nipple poked through my bra and I let out a breath.  Maybe words were difficult to find but I could still let him know how it felt.  I let out a small moan.  “What are you thinking, Kimberly?”

Okay, that might be an easier question to answer.  I was going to latch on and talk until he told me to shut up.  “Uh…that it feels good, that I can’t wait for more.  I want you to touch me all over.”

“Very good.”  I could tell from the tone of his voice that he was pleased by my response.  “You want more?”

“Yes.  Oh, yes.”

He moved his hand up my shoulder to my strap and pulled it down my arm.  Oh, the ache.  “Do you want me to take off your bra?”

“More than anything.”

“I like you like this, Kimberly.  It tells me you care about me.  You care about what I think and feel.  Youdowant to help me.”  He gently squeezed one of my breasts before taking his hands off every part of my body.  Then he walked around behind me, renewing that strange, fearful feeling I’d had off and on since we’d changed the parameters of our relationship.  I felt his fingers on the back strap of the bra and I let out another breath, this time one of relief as he unhooked it, and I felt its grip around me loosen.  He pulled my hair aside and then kissed my neck with his open mouth as he moved his hands around to my front, cupping both breasts underneath the fabric.  I let out a long, slow groan then, telling him this was all good.

In seconds, he lifted his hands off, forcing the bra down my arms.  And, speaking of my arms, I wasn’t quite sure what to do with them.  Part of me wanted to grab hold of him but now I wondered if I needed to ask permission before doing anything and—even if that wasn’t expected—I knew he wouldlikeit.  “Can I touch you?”

He didn’t pause as his hands moved down my body, but he didn’t answer immediately.  “I think…I think I’d like your hands by your side for now.”  I sucked in another breath through my nose as his fingers hooked underneath the waistband of my jeans.  “Soon enough, my queen.”

Queen?  I almost laughed at that one and decided I needed to keep my mouth shut.  Did that make him my king?  And what the hell did that even mean?  In short order, he had my jeans down to my ankles, and he asked me to lift each leg so he could slide off my flip-flop sandals before pulling my jeans off.  And then I was down to the plain black panties.

I felt so naked next to him.

He then touched the button on his jeans.  “Do you want to suck my cock?”  No question.  I nodded my head, probably looking a little too eager.  “Then say it.”

My voice was quiet, but I did.  “I want to suck your cock.”

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