Bound Hearts (24 page)

Calleigh drinking wine, eating pizza, and snacking prior to dinner? Her progress astounded and delighted him. This was shaping up to be about the most perfect night ever.

He kissed her softly on the forehead. “I think that sounds great. Here’s my wallet. Use my debit card for the pizza,” he said as he made his way back to his bedroom, loosening his tie and removing his shirt. Finally, naked he laid down on his comforter and waited until he heard her pad softly into the room.

“It’ll be about forty-five minutes,” she said, handing him a full glass of wine before straddling his naked back down by his rear and set to really dig into each and every one of his various back and shoulder muscles. Once she discovered one that needed extensive attention, she worked the muscle until the tension it held felt like it simply floated away. He couldn’t recall the last time a woman, any woman, had ministered to him like this. Any time he’d actually allowed a woman to treat him like this. With care and affection outside of the bedroom and without him directing traffic. He basked in the humble pleasure of Calleigh’s touch.

§ § §

Deep ridges grooved his back with his spine perfectly bisecting the middle of it as Calleigh continued to massage the tired, achy muscles while unabashedly admiring his back. It curved in all the right places even in repose and could have been sculpted from pure marble. All those four a.m. workouts evidently paid dividends. He’d never let her openly worship his body the way she wanted to whenever they made love. He always directed all the action and the action was just that--action. No soft touches. No massages anywhere. Treating him like this simply to make him feel better satisfied something deep inside her she wasn’t aware she yearned for. A desire and a need to physically care for him.

“You want to tell me about anything in particular that happened today?” she asked as she rolled the backs of his delts between her fingers to loosen them up.

“All of it was pretty shitty from the minute I decided to check my BlackBerry this morning. Serious injuries have eradicated the offense, defense, and is playing chicken with the special teams. We have a total of eight starters definitely out for the next few games and several more are questionable. We need to win at least three out of our next four to make it to playoffs. My starting quarterback is on the verge of a nervous breakdown that may or may not play out in the national media outlets. Oh, lest I forget our draft prospects. We’ve got low-level drafts this season and there’s no real consensus on the positions and players we should target.”

“At least the draft is still a few months away, right?”

“Yeah, but our direction has never been this unsettled this late in the season.”

“Is it because of all the injuries?”

“That’s playing a big part in it. One of our defensive ends is done for the season and he is a free agent at the end of the season. Even without his injury, I don’t think we would have retained him. He’s aging and we drafted a rookie last year specifically to replace him.”

“How old is he?” she asked, intrigued by this glimpse into his professional life.

“Campbell? I’m not sure. Thirty-one or thirty-two.”

“I guess in football years that’s probably old. Like dog years or something.”

He chuckled. “Something like that. Some players today are able to stretch their careers well into their thirties, but they’re the exception rather than the rule. The guy I’m talking about tore his ACL and those injuries are really hard to come back from. The rehab alone is time-intensive and once you’ve torn your ACL, you’re more likely to re-tear it. Most doctors recommend easing into any kind of athletic activities following the surgery, let alone trying to return to professional football.”

“Is that what his doctor said?”

“No, not that I know of. But that’s a risk, as a team, we can’t take. I can’t re-sign him for several years, and Campbell wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than a two or three year extension, when the possibility is so strong that he’ll simply injure it again.”

“Is it hard on you? Like this when you have to let players go?”

“Depends on the player. A lot of them are nothing but a pain in the ass, both on and off the field. Some of them are good guys and it’s hard to see them go, but the days of staying with one team for your professional career are over. Completely bygone era.”

He angled his head to the left to hit her with his eyes. “I can’t tell you how good this feels, Calleigh. Maybe if teaching doesn’t work out, you can be a massage therapist. Or hell, you can be my own personal therapist.”

She smiled at him. “Any time. I like this.”

“What? Rubbing my old, sweaty back. I probably should have taken a shower before I laid down.”

“Not at all. Your skin feels great, not sweaty at all. You’re pretty buff, Shalvington, particularly from the back.”

He lowered his face down to the bed and extended both hands outward by his head.

“I guess I’m the only one here who frequently has the pleasure of seeing your back, aren’t I?” he teased, his words softly muffled by his thick down comforter.

“I guess so,” she responded, rubbing the lower part of his back that dived directly into his perfectly formed rump. Taking her hands, she rubbed them over each of his cheeks, back and forth, feeling the muscles the man even shelved back there.

“Funny. That doesn’t feel like my back.”

“It’s not. Is this okay?” she asked, moving down to caress the backs of his thighs, thick with muscles built up over decades of soccer.

“Yeah. It’s okay,” he said, his gruff tone at odds with his acquiescence.

“If you don’t like this or because it’s against your dominant nature, I’ll stop, David,” she offered, hoping against hope he’d allow her this.

“No. No. You’re fine. You’re better than fine. It’s just that my dick feels like a fucking spike and I think I might come all over my comforter at any second here.”

Leaning up over his back, she kissed the top of his spine. “Go ahead. I promise to wash your comforter for you.”

His quiet laughter pierced her soul. “You’re killing me here, Calleigh. Killing me.”

Another kiss right on his spine. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“It’s a thing I’m not used to.”

“Tell me what you want, David. I want to please you.”

“I’m going to turn over. Take off your pants and your underwear and grab a condom. And then ride me.”

She couldn’t shed her pants fast enough.

Throwing them off to the side of the bed, she felt his hands caress her hips as she began to position herself over him, rolling the rubber over his hard length. Folding his cock back from his stomach, she stood it up right at her entrance. As thick as he was and as excited as she was, she could only work him in inch by delicious inch until he filled her up to her ribs. His eyes never left hers.

“Nice and slow. You’re not very wet, but the longer I remain inside, the wetter you’ll become.”

Alarmed, she asked, “Do you want me to get the lube?” He’d introduced her to the pleasures of lubricant early on for both their traditional and non-traditional sex acts.

He shook his head, his hands tightening on her thighs. “Not unless this is really uncomfortable for you. Give your body a minute to adjust. It’ll tell you what to do when you’re ready.”

Slowly, she rocked her hips forward, his cock gliding with her. Then back. Then forward. Then back.

“Now, move up and down,” he commanded.

She felt full to bursting and wanted to pleasure him as much as he was pleasuring her. Beginning a slow ride, she quickly picked up the pace, never breaking eye contact, all the while feeling him fill her everywhere.

“I’m about to come, Calleigh,” he said as he always did at the right moment.

When she remained silent, he asked, “Do you want to come?”

She shook her head, delighting in her power.

He smiled at the negative toss of her head. “You like this?”

She nodded, continuing to pick up as much speed as her body could handle. In and out, she rode him, fast and furiously.

“Take your right hand and play with your clit. I want you to come when I come,” he instructed.

She did, finding the little nub and stroking it in the same rhythm as his cock was stroking her walls.

“Come for me, Calleigh. Right now.”

Unable to refuse him anything, she complied, riding him to oblivion as she shattered in tune with him. Irrationally, disappointment punctured her that his warm wetness wasn’t slick between her thighs. Which was all kinds of messed up. Granted, the pill ensured she wouldn’t have any babies unless she ever decided she wanted them. But she desired the erosion of all barriers between them. Even those that protected her health as well as his.

Swinging her leg over to the side, she asked, “You want me to take care of this?” indicating the condom.

“Yes,” he replied, crossing his arms behind his head, looking very pleased with himself.

She returned with a warm washcloth, removed the condom and cleaned up. As they finished, the doorbell rang.

“Dinner’s here,” she said.

§ § §

That night in bed, she said, “I have a question I want to ask. Several, actually.” They faced each other in his large bed. All the lights were off, the room blanketed in soft night light filtered through the windows.

“I’m listening.”

“Did I please you tonight?”

How she could continue to doubt herself astounded him. And worried him. And would have pissed him off if he’d had any energy left.

“Of course you did. How can you doubt that?” he questioned, grabbing her hand as he felt her shrug.

“It’s just that that’s not part of our normal routine. It’s not exactly what you prefer.”

“Babe, when it comes to sex, I’m an equal opportunity connoisseur. No one act, no one position, no one touch, no one toy is better than any other. Besides, I like watching you. You know how much I love watching you get yourself off.”

“I think you got me off.”

“Touching that sweet clit of yours always takes care of you. Always.”

“Second question. How did you know that you were…”

“Were what? Sexually dominant?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know. I guess I was born this way.”

“Be serious.”

“I am. I started having sex in high school. Didn’t know what I was doing. Started exploring things more in college. I always knew that I preferred being in control. I loved being the one to tell my partner what to do all the time. Not a little bit, but a lot. I liked sex scenes featuring BDSM. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that I enjoyed domination and I preferred that my partners be entirely submissive, although that took me a few years and a few partners to totally conclude. Then, once I embraced it, it was like coming home. It was as though that was exactly who I am and what I was supposed to be doing sexually with my partners. I like it. When I found willing women, I experimented more with different toys, different scenarios, role playing, shit like that. So, there you have it.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, what?”

“I guess I’m surprised.”

“By what?”

“I thought that maybe something had happened somewhere along the line.”

“Something like what? Sex abuse? Domineering mother? Absentee father? Sorry Calleigh, but the Shalvingtons are about as basic and loving as the Cosby family. No traumatic events in my past related to my dick. I like what I like. And you seem to like it too.”

“Yeah, I do,” she confirmed.

Chapter 16

The following week, Calleigh strode through Walker High School’s crowded, winding halls on her way to the teachers’ lounge to grab a sparkling water and yogurt to snack on during her planning period. Winter break couldn’t arrive soon enough. The majority of her students were suffering from numerous viruses and other bugs. Despite their illnesses, they actually still appeared for class with snot running down from their noses and ending on their chapped lips. Half of the staff were sick as well.

The Pacific Northwest greeted its residents each day with thirty degree temps, bone-rattling winds, and an avalanche of pounding rain. The sun last made an appearance sometime between Labor Day and well before Halloween. Even the twinkle lights that lined all the posts and trees of the popular streets in celebration of the upcoming holidays – North East Alberta, North West Twenty-Third, Burnside, Mississippi – looked beaten down by the weather.

Teaching provided her with numerous intangibles she craved. Constant activity and engagement with her students during the work day. Achievable goals. Established bench marks. A Monday through Friday schedule. Summers, state and federal holidays off along with spring break. As well as the inability to dwell on anything else during her teaching day. Especially her personal life.

Where were she and David? How could she categorize their relationship? Where were they headed? Physically and sexually, no one knew her better or more intimately. Their sex life unleashed a side of her that evidently had been dormant throughout her adulthood. He taught her things about her body, as well as his, that she should have been embarrassed to know. Like how many soft bites around her nipples it took to get her off. Or how erotic it could be to watch the two of them in a mirror together. How sensitive the side of her stomach was and how reactive to a wet, warm tongue. How many orgasms she could handle in one setting. How restraining her neck heightened her awareness of the rest of her body to an exponential level.

Emotionally, he tapped into reserves that only recently started percolating, bubbling below the surface, searching for a release. She’d shared her deepest vulnerabilities with him. Her neurosis about her weight. Her relationship with her mother.

And he was still around.

But what did he want? What did she want? After making their way through Thanksgiving, their trajectory remained the same. What trajectory was that? Did he believe in marriage? Did she? Could she be committed to a man for the long-term who would nine times out of ten demand her sexual domination?

Could she live without him? Could she tell him what she was feeling?

Traditional subjects never made their way into their conversation. Marriage or living together. Living together prior to marriage. Children. Retirement plans. Which family they would spend holidays with. Could she initiate that convo? Would he be receptive? Would he be annoyed or disinterested? What if all he was capable of was a long-term, committed affair? Was that enough to sustain her?