When he’d had enough, he nudged me back to center. I lay on my back and waited for direction. He lowered himself to his knees, so that his cock could press against my lips. I was learning that this was one of his favorite positions. Not just having me suck him, but fucking my face. Kissing my feet and having me worship his. These kinks he blushed to say aloud.
I remembered once thinking how much it said about a man whether he liked to fuck a woman in the pussy or in the ass. Whether he paid extra if she bled. I understood Ian better because of his deviations. I was hungry for them, and the knowledge they could impart. I peeled back each preference like a layer of skin, leaving him vulnerable. He knew how open it left him too. That was why he tied me up, blindfolded and gagged me, just so he could beat me. Artificial shields, but they were gone now.
I wanted him, wholly and without reservation, but somehow I knew he wanted me to resist. Not a fight, just a little reluctance to sharpen the moment. He’d trained me to do all of this, with whips and benches and ball gags. And the reward for learning my lessons was this—his body. His mind. Every part of him with me.
I pressed my lips together to refuse, and he slapped my face. “Take it. Come on, be good, or I’ll have to punish you.”
Eyes wide with fear and excitement, I shook my head and left my lips together. He slapped me again, and again, until hot tears sprang to my eyes. Until I cried out on impact and cowered beneath him. I thought he would hold my nose to make me open, like he’d done once before. When I’d bitten him. But he did something else, instead. There was more to learn; there always would be. He reached down, full force, and stuck his fingers inside my mouth until I gagged on them. It was undignified and wholly encompassing, so that all I could taste or see or feel was him.
“You’ll get better at that,” he promised. “For now, though, you’ll just have to struggle.”
He pushed his cock inside, thick and wet and slippery. With all the water on his body, in my mouth, it felt like I was going to drown, and I gagged, spitting water up against his body. It didn’t slow him, didn’t matter. He kept his thumb inside my mouth, deep against the juncture of my jaw, holding it open. His cock invaded me in slow, easy thrusts while I struggled beneath him.
When he came, the salty fluid filled my mouth. It was hard to swallow, struggling like this. For a moment, I panicked, my eyes bulging, body jerking. I was going to drown, not on water, not on his cock, but on his creamy come. In that moment, I had a choice. I could go down fighting or accept my fate. Which was the more dignified answer? I was too panicked to really think it through, but my path had been laid out for me a long time ago. Foretold by events that had led inexorably to this. I closed my eyes and let it wash over me, resigned to my downfall and wishing for it. The muscles in my throat relaxed and I felt them move convulsively, spasming, pulling his deposit down my throat. In a long, desperate rattle, I sucked in a breath, finally clear and unobstructed.
Without being totally lucid, I heard the water turn off. I felt a thick towel enfold me, felt myself lifted and carried. I curled up on my side in the soft refuge of my bed. And when I stirred enough to reach for him, he was there. He comforted me and rocked me to sleep, safe in his arms.
*
Criminals always made mistakes.
I’d learned that a long time ago. My job as an agent had been to find those mistakes, to catch them. As Ian Hennessey said to me once, the nature of detective work was to always be one step behind. FBI agents were hunters—and our prey had a large headstart and very big guns.
As I sat on the couch curled into Ian’s side, I couldn’t have said which one of us was the hunter and which one of us was prey. I’d been tasked with finding and stopping him at any price. And I had done so. All it had cost was my freedom. Freedom from the shame that had dogged me my whole life. I’d caught him, but he’d caught me right back. This was the trap he’d set, to bind us together so tightly we’d never break free. We’d never want to.
We sat in the dark, bathed by a steady flame of a few candles on the mantel. Dusk had fallen with its usual quickness, arriving fast and late in the summertime. It lent us an air of privacy that I craved right now. What I’d told Ian about living on some secluded island forever and ever was true. I’d go stir crazy without human interaction for years. But right now, I needed time away. To think. To breathe.
To feel safe for the first time since I was a little kid.