Secrets & Lies: A Domestic Discipline Novella Page 6

  And what that meant, Meg knew she couldn’t even think about yet. They needed time; she needed time, but she knew where this was heading. Even if it made her the largest fool in the world, she knew she was supposed to be with this man.

  Hearts weren’t capable of insta-fixes though, and she realized that it would take a while for her to start trusting in him again. She’d give herself that space, she wouldn’t rush it, and knew he wouldn’t rush her. In the meantime, Meg was too smart to hide the truth from herself.

  This man... he was hers.

  Just as she was his.

  Chapter Seven

  Four weeks later

  Gabe peered over the fields ahead of him. His nose wrinkled at the odd smell of mulch surrounding him, but Meg had really tried with her picnic spread, and it wasn’t her fault the field she’d picked smelled of... Hell, he didn’t even know what it was.

  His nose wrinkling as he bit into one of her delicious BLTs, he chewed and enjoyed the silence that had settled between them.

  When she laughed, out of the blue, he murmured, “What’s so funny?”

  “You. Trying to pretend this place doesn’t stink to high heaven.”

  He grinned. “I thought I was doing such a good job, too.”

  “Nope, your acting skills are pretty crummy.” Her own nose wrinkled. “This isn’t turning out how I thought it would.”

  “What did you have in mind?” he asked, brow raised.

  “Well, notice, this blanket is super thick. The grass is really tall, and no one is around.”

  His lips twitched. “You wanted to make out?”

  She nodded, and her eagerness made his smile break out totally. “I really did.”

  “No reason why we can’t. I’m up for it,” he teased.

  “Why does that not surprise me?” Meg grimaced. “I think we should go back to my place. My back yard is private, and it smells of lavender.”

  He laughed. “We could always go to another field?”

  “No, what if that one stinks, too?” She sat up and moved onto her knees, then started packing up the various Tupperware dishes she’d brought.

  He’d say one thing, the fact she could cook was a welcome treat.

  There was a homemade cake in one of the tubs and some chicken wings with his name on them.

  He finished off his sandwich, then started to help her. As he did, he shared in her amusement. “It really does stink around here, doesn’t it?”

  She pulled a face. “Trust me to pick this field for our picnic.”

  “Hey, it doesn’t matter. Your yard sounds fine to me.”

  “I wanted it to be special.”

  “It will be,” he told her, leaning over to press a kiss to the tip of her nose.

  She let him, but then shook her head when he’d moved away. “You don’t understand,” she mumbled as she shoved the closed dishes into a bag.

  “Then explain.”

  “I wanted to...” She sucked in a breath. “I wanted to...”

  He frowned at her, then saw her blush, and put two and two together. For someone who had done as much as she had with him, her innocence and difficulty in talking about sex was actually rather cute. “Make love out here?”

  Her nod was quick, but she still looked flustered. “There’s always next time. Just warn me, and I’ll go scouting for non-stinky fields.”

  He could tell she was still disappointed, but she smiled at him. It was weak but better than the frustration of before.

  But, he guessed he could understand.

  This past month had been spent with them seeing each other at least five to six times a week. They’d been on regular dinner dates, headed over to the cinema, gone gleaning for strawberries, and generally gotten to know one another. He’d made sure to back off sexually, never approaching her, always letting her come to him. Which she’d done, with surprising if pleasing, alacrity.

  They’d yet to have sex and while his cock was aching with the need to take her for his own, for her to see him as they came together at last, he was content to wait.

  That alone should have stunned him, but then, Meg wasn’t like his regular hook-ups or exes. He’d known that since the first day he’d met her.

  Apparently, their minds were running on a parallel, if skewed streak, because she gushed, “I-I really wanted to take this to the next level, you know? I mean, y-you haven’t touched me...not unless I touch you. Is something wrong?”

  At her nerves, he frowned. When he reached for her hand, he was stunned to feel the tremor in her fingers. “Hey, what’s this?” he asked, astounded.

  She jerked a shoulder. “Don’t you want me like that or something?”

  “Like what?” he demanded, then with his free hand, held it up to stem her words. “I wanted to take it slow, Meg, and that’s exactly what we’re doing.”

  “It’s not in your character, Gabe. You’re a Dom, for God’s sake. Doms aren’t patient.”

  “Oh, we aren’t, are we?” he snapped. “Hell, Meg, you’re a sub, what do you know about how a Dom should act? Think or even feel.

  “I have my mind trained on the bigger picture. Yeah, I want you to go back to being my sub, but more than that, I want you to be my partner. The woman I go to sleep with at night, the one who has my goddamn ring on her finger!”

  His voice had risen with each word, and he immediately regretted that when her lower lip started to tremble. He reached for her again, but she brushed him off. “You want to marry me?”

  Awkwardly, he fiddled with the blanket beneath him. Shit, he hadn't meant to reveal that. Not so freaking soon, at any rate. “Yeah. At some point in the future, I do.”

  She sucked in a breath. “God, I didn’t realize.”

  “You didn’t realize? Meg, what part of this am I not making clear? I can’t say it enough...you’ve no idea how badly I want you. How much I want to make you mine. But I have different priorities than those of my cock.

  “Look, what I did to you was out of line. I broke your trust, and as a Dom, that’s a sin that deserves fucking corporal punishment in itself. I did that to you. How am I supposed to expect you to submit to me with that still floating in your head?

  “You have to learn to trust me again. If you don’t, then that side of our relationship will never revert to how it was. In fact, screw revert. It will never get better. Never realize its true potential.”

  She blinked at him, then slowly, nodded. “That makes sense.”

  “Good. In future, don’t get upset about stuff like this. Just talk to me about it. I won’t bite. And don’t presume to know how a Dom works, because you’ll never get it right.”

  Another slow blink. “What if I didn’t want you to dominate me today? What if I just wanted you to make love to me? Is that not...” She licked her lips, her head bowing with discomfort at the topic in hand. “Can’t we do that? Is that not how it works?”

  This time, he reached for her. Putting his hand behind her neck, he dragged her against him and held her close. So close, he could feel the ripeness of her tits as they pressed against his torso, the nipples digging into his pecs through her thin vest and his tee.

  He ate at her mouth, taking control of the kiss, needing her to know how he felt. He poured his every emotion into that embrace, branded her with the knowledge that she was his. He fucked her mouth then when she mewled, he made love to it.

  And as his cock started to pound out a message of its own, the weird odor floating in the air disappeared. All he could smell was the perfume she wore, the soap she’d used in the shower that morning, and the natural essence of woman.

  His woman.

  He held her closer, pressed her tighter against his chest, and then lowered her down to the blanket. She spread her legs to let him settle between her thighs, and he didn’t reject the invitation. He lowered himself down, pushing his cock into her denim-covered core, and grunted against her mouth at how exquisite it felt to be close to her again.

  Her hips began to rock as
she rubbed herself against his shaft, grinding hard as she tried to get herself off. Had he been in Dom mode, he’d have told her off for that, but then, he presumed if she’d been in sub mode, she wouldn’t have done it.

  But there were times for that, and there were times for this. For the connection between man and woman to be founded and forged.

  His hands sought the hem of her vest and he lifted his torso, inadvertently pressing his cock harder against her mound, as he urged her shirt over her chest. She cried out at the pressure but he ignored her, intent on getting her naked, on seeing her in the light of day.

  He pulled his mouth from hers as he shucked the vest over her shoulders and then head, and while he was up, dragged his own shirt off too. As he stared down at her, he realized she’d been bra-less the entire time. Christ, it was a testament to how much he'd been avoiding all thoughts of sex for him not to have noticed that.

  A testament or a crime, he wasn't sure which because her tits were divine.

  “You’re so beautiful, Meg,” he told her, his voice unashamedly hoarse. “You’re so mine.”

  Her smile was a little lopsided and definitely shy. “I’m glad you think so.”

  The vagueness of her retort didn’t perturb him, because there was plenty of time to make her admit she was his. As it was, he was too focused on the perfect roundness of her heaving breasts, on the taut nipples that looked like pert cherries.

  Her skin was like cream tinged with cinnamon. In the light of day, she was a pagan goddess he couldn’t believe wanted him.

  Using one hand to prop him upright, he used the other to trace a finger over her nipple. It puckered even tighter and she shivered. He smiled at the reaction then jolted when she started to touch him. Her hand moved along his shoulder, sliding down his arm and back up again, then rolling down to his chest before skimming over his belly. It came to a halt at his belt, and he let her fiddle with the buckle and his fly, content to watch the individual bubbles of gooseflesh as they emerged at the touch.

  Eventually, he couldn’t help himself. He ducked his head down and licked at the tip of her nipple, and groaned at her taste. Her own gasp of pleasure was like music to his ears, and he carefully tugged at the nub with his teeth, rolling it around, being gentle but not too gentle...after all, he knew exactly what got her hot or not.

  Her hands, still burrowed between them, dug down into his fly and when they touched his shaft, he murmured, “Oh Christ,” against her skin.

  It felt too good to have her touch him. To feel her hands on him, and for her to know it was his cock which was hard for her.

  In fact, the knowledge that she was fully aware of who he was, was enough to take him to the brink of coming. He reared back, releasing her nipple and dislodging her hands from his waistband. She gawked up at him in confusion, but he heaved in deep breaths and shook his head at her.

  When she started to cover her breasts up, embarrassment setting in, he gritted out, “Don’t you dare do that. Give me a second.”

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered, uncertainty in her eyes. He hated that he’d done that to her. Before, she’d always been so confident in herself, so strong. And he knew that hadn’t changed at work, but with him, there was a hesitancy about her, something that came from a person who knew what it felt like to be hurt. To be betrayed.

  He vowed to take that uncertainty from her, to make her so goddamn secure in life she never doubted him again.

  It was why he kept on making such vehement remarks to her, to the importance she had in his life. He wanted to reaffirm how much she meant to him, and if the only way to do that was to look like he was coming on too strong, then hell, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

  “I’ll tell you what’s wrong,” he grumbled. “I’m about five seconds away from blowing my load all over your stomach.”

  His gruff words had her smiling, and it was like the sun peering out from between a cluster of charcoal clouds. “You are?”

  “There’s no need to look so smug about it,” he groused, but there was no heat to his tone. He liked that she was smug, because he was about an inch away from orgasm thanks to her hands on him. No one else’s.

  “Sorry,” she told him, sounding anything but apologetic.

  “You will be,” he growled as he dove down, his control settling a bit more, before he went straight for her mouth.

  He bit her bottom lip, tugging it away and immediately sinking home. Fucking her mouth with his tongue, he carried on until she was breathless, chest heaving once more as her tits dragged against his pecs.

  His hands went to the waistband of her jeans, and he started to free her from their constraints, only releasing her mouth when he could finally work the damned denim and cotton panties over her hips and down her legs.

  When she was naked, completely bare to his gaze, he could feel the tension roll through him. “God, you have no idea what you do to me,” he bit out, hating that he sounded angry, but hell, she took him to the edge every fucking time.

  “Show me,” she whispered, lifting her hands to cup her breasts.

  His eyes widened as she started to play with her nipples, and that was it. He was a goner. He pulled down his jeans, lowering them to his thighs. He grabbed a hold of his shaft and pressed the tip against her heat.

  The contact of skin against skin caused him to freeze, but she whispered, “I’m on the pill.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, not because he didn’t trust her, but because he knew it was a moment where she was opening herself to him.

  “I am,” she told him, her voice clear. “I’m clean.”

  “Me too, I swear, Meg.”

  “I know.” She licked her lips. “Make love to me, Gabe.”

  “With pleasure.”

  He rubbed his glans against her clit before rolling down to her gate. She was wet, incredibly so, and he used her own juices to slide back up and to nudge at the nubbin a little more.

  He knew how much she loved that, and she didn’t disappoint. Her back arched and a cry escaped her when he worked it, paying total attention to her clit.

  Recognizing the flush that had settled over her breasts, he stopped his ministrations, moved his cock back to her slit, and pushed the tip inside.

  Her eyes popped open, and she stared at him blindly for a few seconds. He smiled at her, and she swallowed, gulping down some air as he started to move his hips.

  He was careful as he thrust inside her, taking his time, and, making sure that every part of her was full with every part of him. Slow at first, he rocked his hips, loving the connection of bare flesh against bare flesh, loving the trust it represented. Loving her, period.

  He clenched his eyes shut, because he’d known he’d loved her for years, but admitting it now hit too close to home. Shucking off the thought, he whispered, “Touch your clit, Meg. Rub it. Get yourself off.”

  She blinked at him, her eyes dazed, but she nodded. Her hand traveled between them, and he felt the small digits as they began to work their magic.

  The instant she got into a rhythm, her back arched once more. She put all the weight on her head as she moved into her own touch, as she let him fuck her the way she needed to be taken.

  Watching her was like watching magic. It unlocked parts of him that had been specially made for her alone. And watching her was enough to make him have to do his timetables, because he was far too close to coming for his own comfort.

  When that magic flush appeared once more, when her tits began to shake, and her hand began to falter as she started to ride the wave of pleasure about to hit her flat in the face, he embraced his own climax.

  And to the sounds of her cries, the delicious sounds of ecstasy, which rang free from her throat, he came. Pouring his essence into her, pouring every part of himself into her, and reveling in the knowledge that finally, they were as one again.

  As they should always have been.

  Chapter Eight

  “We did it, Sam.”

  The huge eyebrows he
’d painted on for his next act at the club rose to his hairline. The Marlene Dietrich twigs quivered as he absorbed her words before they sank low into a frown.

  “The it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought you were waiting.”

  “I was. I waited a month.”

  Sam huffed. “That’s not waiting.”

  “It felt like fucking torture for me,” Meg retorted, feeling defensive and not liking it. She folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the wall.

  Standing next to Sam’s dressing table, she’d been watching him put on his make up for his drag act and just had to blurt out the truth. He had a vested interest in making sure she didn't get her fool heart broken again because he'd be the one she'd crawl to, sobbing said heart out if things went to shit. A part of her had hoped he'd cheer her on, but as he seemed disapproving, she really wished she’d kept her trap shut.

  “How was it?” he asked, his tone purposely bland as he went back to painting on overlarge pink lips.

  “Good.”

  He snorted. “What is it with you and details? Give. Me. More. Information. Did he hurt you?”

  That question unlocked her anger. He’d been upset for her. Feeling guilty at not having faith in him, she pressed a hand to his shoulder and squeezed. “He didn’t make me do anything, Sam. I promise. I came onto him.”

  When he blew out a breath, Meg sensed his relief. “That’s okay then. When you... I wasn’t sure. I know he’s into that freaky stuff.”

  “Hey, less of the freaky, thank you. I’m into it too.”

  Sam shrugged. “You know I mean no harm.”

  “Yeah, I do, and it was good.” She bit her lip. “In fact, it was great. And it was vanilla.”

  Those overlarge and too thin brows arched. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “Well, it wasn’t. That’s the crazy part. It was good. ‘Friday night good’ without the restraints.”

  “Okay, so what’s the problem?”