Forbidden Desires

Chapter 5

Around five, we pull up outside my apartment — well, Dan’s apartment. I live here nearly rent-free, so I really shouldn’t be calling it mine. I’m like a house guest who pays for the utilities.

For a walk of shame, I don’t feel that embarrassed. In fact, I feel pretty freaking great. My backside is not smarting as much since John rubbed on that fantastic lotion or cream or whatever the hell it was. John is walking me to my door for god’s sake, and now it feels like I’ve been on a real date. Sure, a date where I signed a contract not to speak about the nature of our relationship to anyone, lost my virginity, and got smacked around five ways to Sunday, but a date nonetheless.

We make it to the apartment door and I shift my weight from foot to foot awkwardly. I guess I’m expecting him to kiss me, but time is passing and no kiss is coming. John is staring down at me intently, but it’s like he’s trying to analyze me, not woo me. If I’m being honest, I suppose he’s already won me, so there’s no need to pursue me. There’s pain behind his eyes. I am wasting our time standing here.

“Well, I’ll see you Wednesday,” I mutter finally, and reach for the doorknob. He reaches out and touches my arm gently, sweetly. He’s touched me everywhere at this point, in a thousand different ways, but this one is new. I turn and he takes my face in his hands, staring deeply into my eyes.

“You want me to kiss you good night,” he says matter-of-factly. When I don’t respond, his countenance changes, he becomes authoritative in that familiar way. This is John, the Dom.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m not the hearts and flowers kind of guy, Miss Smith. I’ve told you that.”

“I know, sir.” 

He gently leans in and brushes his lips against mine, taking my breath away for a moment. Like hell he’s not a hearts and flowers kind of guy. When I regain my composure, I bite my lip.

And then he’s on me, filling my mouth with his, his hands roaming over my body until he takes my bottom lip in his teeth and bites down hard, squeezing my breast as he does so. It’s awful and wonderful and completely overwhelming.

He stands up straight after a moment. I’m practically gasping for breath but he looks so composed, smoothing the strand of hair that fell from my ponytail. The salty taste of blood lingers in my mouth. I tongue my lip and find a tiny cut on the inside of it. Somehow it feels erotic, tasting my own blood.

“I am sorry about that, but I have told you repeatedly not to bite your lip,” he says softly.

Just then, the door swings open and Arthur and Dan appear, as if one writhing body with four arms and four legs grasping at itself desperately. It’s a bit difficult to decide where one ends and the other begins. I feel a strong pang of jealousy.

John clears his throat after a moment or two and they begrudgingly break apart.

“You ready?” John asks his brother.

“Sure thing,” comes the reply, though Arthur’s eyes never leave Dan’s. He kisses her again, with tongue, then marches between me and John, calling over his shoulder to Dan, “Laters, baby.”

I give Dan and incredulous look then turn to John. He leans in to give me a chaste peck on the cheek, whispering, “Laters, baby,” in my ear. I laugh at the entirely un-John phrase and see his smile. He looks his age again for a split second. I want to see it again. He starts to walk away and I grab my cell phone and text him as quickly as my thumbs will fly. 

*I’m wearing your underwear, Mr. Tanner, I hope that’s acceptable.*

His phone beeps a moment later and he fishes it out while climbing into the Audi. His eyes flash up to mine immediately in shock and I shoot him a coy smile before closing the door to the apartment. Mission accomplished.

Dan hands me a cold beer and laughs. I’m leaning against the door with a stupid grin on my face.

“You did it, didn’t you?” she blurts after a moment.

A blush is surely creeping over not just my face, but my entire body, so I take a long swig of my beer. First John can tell I’m a virgin, now Dan can tell I’m not?

“Well, was he any good? How was it? I want to know everything.”

Dan takes my hand and leads me to the couch.

I take another long pull on my beer then lick a drop from the neck and flush again. My mind is racing back to John Tanner’s c**k in my mouth, licking him clean, the feel of him against the back of my throat.

“It was good.” That’s all I can manage to get out.

“Just good?” Dan is incredulous.

I consider my words before speaking. Normally I don’t censor myself at all with Dan. We speak freely and candidly together, but I signed a non-disclosure agreement, and although I doubt he would sue me, the threat of my time with John Tanner ending is enough to make me cautious about how much I reveal. 

“It was really good, Dan, but I don’t...” I hesitate.

“Don’t hold out on me now, Smith!” 

“It just... It wasn’t what I expected.” If I talk about me, it’s not breaking the contract, right?

“How so?”

That’s a tricky question. My first time was definitely not how I expected it to be. It was glorious and amazing and so freaking hot, but I’d always expected it to be soft and tender and slow and filled with love. I had imagined there would be candles and music and open-mouthed kissing, and I sure as s**t planned on being naked. 

On the other hand, John Tanner was not how I expected him to be, either. I had done my internet research. This was clearly just the introductory stuff, the training, the soft-core if you will. The way he had warned me against being with him, I had pictured whips and chains and ball gags and f*****g while someone else watched us. I imagined being bound and trussed and tied seven ways to Sunday and I guess I had given up entirely on the idea of how my first time should be before he picked me up yesterday. That said, our second time had been so very much closer to my original expectations of how my first time would go that I was left a little confused.

“The biggest surprise was how much I enjoyed it, I guess.” 

Lord, that was the truth. I didn’t think I’d actually enjoy being spanked that hard. Sure, I’d be intrigued by the thought of it, but who isn’t? That didn’t mean I was going to like it. I thought it was something you bore through to get to the good part. 

And then, once he’d f****d me so hard, I spent a total of about five minutes (there wasn’t a lot of lag time between sessions) believing I couldn’t enjoy anything but rough s*x for the rest of my life. John f****d me then made love to me — and that is undoubtedly what he did — and they were so much the same and so different at the same time. Now I can’t imagine existing without both sides of that coin. I know that I need to be used and treated roughly. I also know that I need to be treated like a goddess. I can’t see a realistic way I can consistently have both, though, so a sadness rolls over me momentarily.

But looking at Dan’s ridiculous expression of excitement, anticipation, and arousal breaks me from my melancholy. 

“Did you come?”

I should just resign myself to the fact that my face will be bright red for the duration of this conversation. 

“Yes.”

Her eyes widen. “More than once?”

I nod.

Her face is colored with glee, or is it envy? “How many times, Ana?”

I count in my head briefly and take a sip of beer. I try to avoid looking at Dan as I finally say, “Four.” My reward for the blow job was a nice bit of shower s*x. My thoughts wander back to the handheld showerhead. Oh, the things John was able to do with it...

Dan sputters and nearly spits out her mouthful of beer, bringing me back to reality. “Four?! It’s only been,” she looks at her watch. “Hell, Ana, it’s only been 24 hours. Don’t you sleep?”

I look at her, mystified. I’m pretty sure I got eight hours. “Is that not normal?”

“Hell, most guys can’t get it up four times much less make a woman come that much, that often. Especially a virgin.” She stares at me for a moment, blinking. “I’m impressed.”

I feel the need to deflect. I’m revealing too much about John. This could really jeopardize our... Relationship? Situation. Could jeopardize our situation. 

“Well, he did say I am very ‘receptive’.”

This is apparently hilarious because Dan spends the next two or three minutes guffawing.

“Is that so?” she says, hiccuping. “I’m still fairly convinced you’re dating a s*x god.”

I sigh. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

She laughs and pushes my arm, shoving me slightly. However, thanks to my lack of coordination, I fall off the couch, spilling the remainder of my beer all over Dan’s dress that I’m wearing.

“s**t!” I set the bottle down on the coffee table and dab at the massive wet blotch with my bare hands.

“Here, take that off, I’ll run it through the wash right now. Don’t worry.”

I stand up and turn so Dan can unzip me. The feel of her fingers against my skin sends a tingle down my spine and I’m reminded of John’s touch. I then peel the cranberry dress from my body and hand it to Dan, who is staring, open-mouthed at my crotch.

Fuck, I’m wearing John’s boxer briefs! 

“Are those his?” I nod and Dan takes the dress absent-mindedly. She turns to head toward our washing machine closet by the bathroom. “That’s f*****g hot, Ana.”

That deep, dark feeling, that feeling of unstoppable momentum swirls in my groin, nearly knocking me on my feet. The moisture between my thighs tells me her compliment excited me, but not why. Is it confirmation that I’m hot, or John is, or his underwear is, or our s*x life is... Or is it something about Dan saying it.

I shake the thought from my head and make my way to my room to change into some pjs. And of course, by ‘pjs’ I mean a tank top and John’s boxer briefs.