Hold Me by W. Winters
Ella
Emotional days suck the life out of you. I don’t know how or why, but it’s like they eat up all of your energy, leaving you exhausted, yet you’ve done nothing but drown in the thoughts of your own mind. Ever since this morning, since I asked Kamden and Damon for space, I’ve stared at my phone and wished it was my old one.
I want to listen to James’s voice message I listened to on repeat a year and a half ago. I want to tell my friends I miss him and hear them tell me they miss him too. All of my pictures, all of our conversations. It hit me harder than I thought it would bringing up what happened during that meeting. Every day, I know he died. Every day, I know I tried to kill myself because I didn’t want to be alone anymore and I felt so damn alone. It was like the world went dark and the only light I could see was by ending it. It happened quickly, yet slowly just the same. I didn’t realize I’d fallen down that path until it was the only one. Everything else vanished and it was all I had left. It was my only escape from grief.
It’s a ball in a box. Grief really is an unforgiving ball in a stupid little box.
I stare back down at my phone as I sniffle and wish I could take that text and send it to James. I miss you.
Is it wrong that I miss them both? I can tell one and he chooses not to respond. But I can’t even tell the other. My first love. The man I thought I was going to spend my life with.
I’m busy pulling the sheet up to my neck, its pristine white silky fabric not coming anywhere near my eyes in case my mascara is smudged when there’s a knock at the door.
The shock comes with the knowledge that it’s been so long since anyone has asked permission to enter.
“Come in,” I answer calmly, lifting myself to sit up on my bed, glancing in the vanity mirror. I meant to change before Zander came, but time has flown by. The silk cuffs of my pajamas are proof I lost it earlier, and I find myself cupping my hands over the bits tainted with black mascara to cover them as he enters.
The door opens slowly, creaking as it does. Zander’s steps are measured and he takes his time, closing the door. My heart does a pitter-patter as if a prince has come to kiss my sleeping lips and bring me back to life. What a handsome knight in shining armor he is.
He wears a devilish smirk as his gaze roams down my body. Every inch he takes in blazes with a desperate need to be touched by this man.
Zander Thompson is sin in all black. Black jeans that hug his ass and are faded just slightly, and a black Henley is stretched tight across his broad shoulders.
Then his eyes meet mine and he tilts his head ever so slightly. His expression, though … the seriousness can’t hide the desire in his gaze.
“There are things we’re going to discuss before I fuck you,” he says and his deep voice barely comes out above a murmur, yet I hear every word crystal clear.
Suddenly I’m not so tired. Suddenly I’m not so sad.
I’m needy, though. I’ve never felt so needy in my entire life as I do now.
The floorboards groan as he shifts his weight.
I can’t explain why I suddenly feel like I’ve done something wrong. “What do we need to talk about?”
“Your punishment.” He speaks easily, slowly pacing around the bedroom. Zander loosens his collar first, giving me a perfect view of the masculine sweep of his neck.
Inching backward to rest against the headboard, I’m hesitant to ask, “What exactly do I need to be punished for?”
With his lips pulled into an asymmetric smirk, his deep voice rumbles, “If you don’t know, then maybe I should reconsider this arrangement.”
“Extortion … threatening The Firm?” I say and can barely breathe, not knowing how he’ll react now that we’re alone. I’ve wanted to be at his mercy since he whispered the forbidden word, submission … and now we find ourselves here. It’s difficult to maintain eye contact until he says, “That would be it, my little jailbird.”
I can’t help but to simper at the twist to my nickname.
His approval brings warmth and comfort, although I’m still unsure what’s to come. “There’s that smile I’ve been missing.”
I could tell him how much I’ve missed him. How much I don’t want him to leave now that he’s here. Instead he speaks before my courage comes and says, “We need to decide exactly how I’ll be punishing you.”
My heart races from how deadly low his tone is. The leather of Zander’s belt glides easily from his belt loops as he unbuckles and removes it. All the while his eyes stay on mine.
The pounding of adrenaline in my blood causes it to heat and I swear I feel that pulse between my thighs the most.
With the belt folded in his hand, he turns his back to me before dragging the lone chair from my vanity to the end of the bed, placing it there and taking a seat.
He’s far too large for the dainty thing. His brooding stature takes it over.
“I apologize,” I say, answering him the only way I know how.
“Good girl,” he whispers with a sexed-up grin.
“Edging is what I would typically do in this situation, but—”
“Edging?”
“Orgasm denial for a few hours,” he says and leans back, more casual than he was a moment ago. His thumb runs down the stubble of his jaw as he adds, “Until I’m satisfied you’ve been punished.”
Heat simmers along my skin with the threat. James did that before. It wasn’t for hours and I cussed him out during. I vaguely remember being on the verge of tears when he finally let me get mine, then he fucked me into the mattress while telling me how much he loved me.
With my heart in my throat, I whisper, “It’s what you would do normally … but?”
“But I found what you did made me hard as fuck, so I’ll be rewarding you instead.”
The blush that rises through me, from the tips of my toes all the way up to the crown of my head, is heated and proof I’m eager for more.
“There’s—” I hesitate, my knuckles going white as I stare down at them, biting my tongue.
“Say it,” Zander’s voice is calm but I still can’t bring myself to look up at him, the memory that begged to be spoken playing in my mind.
“Tell me right now.” His tone is hardened and my gaze whips to his.
“I don’t love the pain.” I whisper the confession before swallowing.
His emerald and amber gaze is assessing, and the concern in his expression is apparent with the wrinkles that form around his eyes and his downturned lips.
Swallowing thickly I add, “James had a friend once.” It’s only once his name is spoken that I realize how easily I’ve mentioned my late husband. My lover. The only man who I’ve given everything to. It doesn’t feel like the betrayal I imagined it would. It feels like he’s given me permission. Like I’m supposed to tell Zander.
“When we were playing and learning things … he had a friend who asked questions. Most of them I didn’t really pay attention to.” That night was exceptional and a sigh leaves me at the memory, but the warmth that leaves means a chill settles inside of me. Picking at an imperceptible loose thread on the sheet, I peek up at Zander. “We were learning punishments and when James said I was a brat, that I pushed him to be punished, his friend asked if I loved the pain.” Shaking my head comes without conscious consent. “I don’t like it … not like his submissive did.”
Since Zander’s come in and seated himself in the chair in front of me, the sun has begun to set and the warm hues seep into the curtains behind him. With the light dimmed, shadows play along his sharp features.
He nods once before commanding me, “Strip. Down to nothing.”
I don’t expect the embarrassment. With my fingers fumbling at the hem of my silk pajamas, I can’t even look him in the eyes. Of everything I thought I would feel confiding in Zander, embarrassment isn’t one of them. It’s quickly relieved when he tells me, “I’m not a sadist, Ella. I don’t love the pain either and I already knew you weren’t a masochist.”
My heart thuds in a way that denies the space between us, like it doesn’t exist. A different kind of heat takes over as he stares into my gaze, unbuttoning his shirt with one hand and tells me, “I want you naked with your heels on the mattress, legs bent and spread, so I can taste you.”
With trembling hands I comply to his every wish, not sure if this is the punishment, the reward, or some kind of concoction of the two of them swirled together.
My hair cascades and spreads like a halo around me, my chest rising and falling as I stare above at the chandelier. At the details of the natural, untreated wood and the elegant curves of the iron that shape the sphere.
My eyes only close when the bed dips and groans, and then the warmth of Zander’s breath tickles my inner thigh. With his lips pressed against my skin I feel him smile as I shiver.
Looking down my body, I watch as he leaves an openmouthed kiss, teasing me. With one hand, he holds my hip, and with the other, he reaches up and plucks a nipple between his pointer and thumb. Almost carelessly, even though the sensation is directly linked to my clit.
The breath of a moan he elicits only makes me hotter. He nips at my thigh, not hard but enough that my body bucks in response. He doesn’t keep me steady; he could have held me down and we both know it.
“You need to keep still,” he warns, his eyes darkening. There’s a heat that resonates between us, ignited from the intensity in his gaze. I only nod, barely breathing, until he catches my nipple between his fingers, rolling it. The sensation is hot yet there’s a pain that comes with it.
I moan my agreement, telling him, “I’ll keep still.” He releases me instantly, and doesn’t hesitate to drop his tongue to my slit. Taking a languid lick, he groans deep from within his chest. The rumble brings a vibration that carries to his lips.
My head falls back and I let my eyes close, focused on keeping myself still. My fingernails dig into the sheets, scratching as I tighten my grip. I want nothing more than to run them through his hair, to keep him still instead of me, to rock myself against his tongue.
A gasp escapes and I’m forced to look down at him as his tongue dives into my heat. He drags himself back up and then sucks my clit. My lips form a perfect O and I can’t breathe as he causes a heat to dance along every nerve ending in my body. I’m cold all at once, my body refusing to move until the fire engulfs me and a cry of pleasure is torn from me. My back bows slightly, my shoulders digging into the mattress.
The pool of pleasure deep in my belly spreads slowly, outward and toward my limbs. His next statement catches me off guard. It’s the demand, the threat that lies there when he says, “Keep your ass down or I’ll tie you down.”
I don’t have a moment to respond before he presses his thumb against my throbbing clit, mercilessly rubbing as two of his thick fingers enter me.
With my teeth clenched, I force out profanity as he fucks me, his fingers curled so every stroke hits the wall where that bundle of sensitive nerves lies. He’s relentless, near brutal as goosebumps spread along my skin.
It’s beyond impossible to stay still. My legs tremble and before I can get out an apology or an excuse, Zander keeps me trapped in his gaze as he plants a kiss on my quivering thigh.
It takes everything I have to remain motionless and obey. My body begs to buck as the pleasure builds. It carries me higher and higher and I whisper, as if the single letter is a plea, “Z.”
Adding in a third, he finger fucks me harder and without any mercy.
“Fuck!” I cry out, my body instinctively attempting to escape the threat of my impending climax.
It hits me just as Zander squeezes my breast. He’s not gentle and the hint of pain only adds to the overwhelming pleasure. A cold sweat covers my body as the waves run through me.
My inhale is staggered as I attempt to retake my place and then I’m paralyzed by his next action.
He works his fourth finger in me, stretching me with a sweet, stinging pain. The pleasure lingers and feels especially present between my legs where it’s far more tender.
“Good girl, taking what I give you.” His groan of approval brings more heat. “I want to give you more.”
“More?” I can barely breathe at hearing the word, already overwhelmed and stretched and full.
“Be a good girl, Ella. I want to see how much you can take.” He plants a small kiss just beneath my belly button.
His fist? “Are you—fuck!” My neck arches as I scream out, loving the mix of pleasure and pain and feeling this … taken.
He doesn’t look me in the eye. Instead he leans down, his broad shoulders forcing my legs farther apart. He takes my clit into his mouth, sucking harder than he did before and my head drops as the sounds of him working his hand promise me that the reality is exactly what I think it is. His fingers bend, his knuckles brutally pushing against my walls, his pace never lessening.
It’s all too much. I’m too hot, the pleasure building again, far more this time, taking me higher, to a place where I know the fall will destroy me after it’s taken me.
My throat feels raw, the safe word hovering, threatening to be spoken. I feel full, tight, ready to split. A shiver rides up my shoulders just as I feel him press the tip of his thumb in and I can’t take it.
I can’t take any more. I’m so close once again. Too close. Too full.
“It’s too much,” I try to speak, but the words are incoherent. “Pink. Pink,” I say and struggle, my head pressed firmly to the pillow, my body still shaking. All at once, I’m empty and cold.
“I’ve got you.” Zander’s voice is steadying as I roll onto my side. My legs collapse together and the blanket is pulled around my shoulders, the warmth nothing compared to what Z had just done to me. My shoulders shake with a shiver that’s only subdued when my Dominant lies behind me, his chest to my back, his arms around me, holding me tightly.
I didn’t even feel the tears that had leaked out of the corner of my eyes and rolled down my cheeks until my heart stopped hammering.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, his lips at the shell of my ear. He shushes me, he tells me it’s all right.
I’m barely cognizant of what just happened. When my breathing calms, I realize I safe worded. “I didn’t mean to.”
My denial is met with a kiss on the curve of my neck. Not too short, an openmouthed version that lingers. “You did,” he says. With his lips in my hair, he kisses me again. His arm tightens, pulling me to him as he tells me it’s all right.
I recall only safe wording once with James. Only when he cracked the whip and it broke my skin. Only once because of the sudden pain and fear. I was terrified. That was an entirely different experience. He apologized. He held me, but I was crying. The pain lasted and I shoved him away. It was awful.
This … this doesn’t feel like that at all. Not in the least.
“You’re crying.” Zander’s voice is full of concern. I wish I could say anything, but I can’t utter a word.
“Where do you hurt?”
I can’t answer his question because it’s not like he could do a damn thing to fix it. Damon said I may be displacing my feelings and I think he might be right. I still love James. I love him and I think I love Zander too, but I don’t know how that’s possible.
“It’s okay, you can cry.” I know he’s looking down at me but I keep my eyes shut tight. “If you want me to stop—”
“Don’t stop.” I beg him with quickly ushered words. “Don’t stop. Please, Z, hold me.”
