Page 28 of Deeper

Rylan

Aria,

Callen thought he could break me. It was obvious that was what he was trying to do. But he doesn’t know who I really am. He doesn’t know the darkness within me. There is nothing he could have done to break me because I wanted every crack of the paddle and each harsh touch from his hands. I wanted him to dominate me, so I could prove he couldn’t hurt me.

You would have freaked if you saw me in that room, Aria. I’ve never had better sex in my life, though. It was intense. Intense isn’t even a good enough word for what it was. I’ll never be the same again after looking strangers in the eye while I got off.

Sorry, I know kinky sex isn’t your thing, but really, it was otherworldly. My next column is going to fucking rock. That’s all I’ll tell you, or you’ll have me committed. Maybe I do belong in a straitjacket, surrounded by padded walls. I wouldn’t be surprised even a little.

I miss you. I love you almost as much as ice cream.

Rylan

I close my notebook, boot up my computer, and open the file titled, “Bondage and Sex Spectators: The Thrill of Not-So-Private Orgasms.” My fingers fly across the keyboard as the words pour from my brain. I’ve always loved my job, but I’ve never been this inspired.

I don’t write about my specific experience, and I don’t give any hard advice, but I do detail the concept in a broader sense of the topic. I add in pointers, like using a safe word, and paint a colorful description of the exploration, of owning your wants and needs.

Women shouldn’t be embarrassed to ask for what they like, and they should never be shamed for it. After all, no one ridicules the men that create our sexual culture.

Within twenty minutes, I have a good first draft to work with. I’ve never accomplished that so fast in my life. I mentally give myself a pat on the back, take a sip of my coffee, and look up just in time to see Tatum walking through the door of the coffee shop.

“Put away your damn computer because we have gossip to get to,” Tatum declares.

I gently shut my laptop as Tatum takes the seat next to me.

“Gossip? What could we possibly have to talk about?”

“Are you kidding? Oh, I don’t know…maybe the man or the sex or that crazy bondage equipment he had you strapped into. No, wait…I have it. How about the fact that the people watching you practically cheered when you came?”

“Don’t you want a drink or something first?”

“No, refreshments can wait. I need details first.”

Tatum and I huddle closer to chat about my experience. She looks cautious when we talk about the high I got with his hands around my neck or the paddle against my ass. The caution flips to skepticism when I talk about the added pleasure the pain brought. Her face flushes when we discuss the plug he put in my ass and how the double penetration completely changed the sensitivity of him inside me. She flexes her jaw in sympathetic discomfort when we hit the topic of him none-too-gently fucking my mouth. I tell her about locking eyes with strangers while I was getting fucked and seeing the greed in their eyes. They wanted to be me, or they wanted to be Callen, but the experience was ours. They could look, but they couldn’t take it.

“Did he hurt you?” she asks nervously.

My friend rearranges the scarf around my neck that’s hiding the bruises, but I unwrap it to show her that I’m really okay. The marks around my neck are consensual, and I’m not afraid for her to see them.

“I can’t be hurt. At least, not like that.”

“What do you mean?” She seems unconvinced as she inspects the discoloration of my neck and wrists.

“I came to Connecticut for a new start. I’d lived in the same town my whole life. A friend of mine spent some time here and loved it. So, that’s why I picked Maplefield. Exploring my sexuality is part of that fresh start. I wouldn’t let anyone do anything to me that I wasn’t comfortable with, Tatum.”

“Okay, I’m going to go get a drink now. I’ll be right back.”

“When you come back, we’re turning the tables. It’s time for your turn in the hot seat.”

Tatum stands. “Me? What about me?”

I smile at her nervous question.

“Anything. We’re always talking about me. So, now, I want to talk about you.”

“Yes, let’s talk about me because I’m the one who porked the hot mystery man.” Sarcasm drips from her words.

“Shut up and go get your gross tea. Bring me something sweet back.”

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