Scrupulous (An Affliction of Falling Novel Book 1) Page 9

  “Was that so hard?” He is restraining the patronizing tone that would typically accompany those words while hitting me with the sudden ‘boy next door’ change in his features, making it impossible to be cross.

  “Yes.” I almost think I’d rather walk over fiery coals than do that again. I like my anonymity and privacy.

  “Tonight then?” He pushes his luck.

  I throw his coat at him as he stands in my doorway, “With bells on.” His snicker echoes in the hall as the door closes. Oh, boy.

  Gavin

  As I get into my car to leave her house, the radio comes on and Prince’s “Little Red Corvette” begins and I can’t help but smile to myself. How fucking perfect is that? Baby girl, you are a fast little thing, and I am going to help remedy that.

  She has such an aversion to any form of commitment. I am going to take pleasure in peeling back her layers and savoring each one. For a sexual liberal, Sorcha is quite virginal. And I, being the sick fuck that I am, am reveling in it. What we shared last night proved what I suspected. This is a once-in-a-lifetime connection. Her mouth, her wit, and her body have lit me in ways I never knew possible. Even running the streets never gave me this kind of challenge, this kind of high. Which is probably why I’ve never cared for long-term relationships. No one has held my fancy long enough to really consider it. Good thing I like a challenge. Speaking of, that douche at the bar was definitely one of her old flings. She probably has a slew of one-nighters. Which is something I shouldn’t care about, but I do. The cowboy trying to come back around for seconds when she clearly states to all she screws that there will be none made me more determined to get back in her bed.

  Now that I am back in her bed, I will get to know her better in ways no man has before. Every time I get a taste, she makes me hungrier for more. I will claim that sweet little ass of hers, and she will know exactly who she belongs to. Lord help anyone who gets in my way.

  Sorcha

  “Wow, you look special,” Samuel cracks as I slide into the booth and he snakes an arm around me. He looks devastatingly handsome in his Calvin Klein mock turtleneck sweater and dress pants.

  “Not a lot of sleep,” I admonish, warily glancing at our friends.

  “Went back to the cowboy for seconds?” He raises an eyebrow, making Ben and Molly laugh, knowing full and well what he is doing. Breonna isn’t here yet and Jade cancelled.

  Backed into a corner, my honesty relents under the corner Samuel has painted me into. “Not the cowboy,” slips out between sips of hot coffee. I cling to the cup as if it could save me from their scrutiny. Samuel knows me well, but he hasn’t considered that I might go back to another for seconds. I close my eyes and try to wish away the last few days of activities while sipping the steaming beverage in gratitude.

  “No! Sor, seriously?” Samuel gasps, his dark blue eyes begging me to say something to negate the truth he is finally seeing.

  “What? Who?” Ben chimes and Molly leans in, waiting for the impending bomb with wide eyes.

  “I don’t know what this is! Please don’t mention it around Bre; I can’t handle that right now.” Swirling the dark liquid in my mug, I silently wish I could drowned in it right about now.

  “Oh, shit. She is seeing someone! Never thought I would see the day. Sam─ quick, did hell freeze over?” Molly jokes, but Samuel isn’t in the mood for it. A sour look has taken up residence all over his pretty face.

  “Tell her who,” he demands, causing me to cringe as he caresses the last syllable in warning.

  “Master Gavin,” I croak in dismay. Molly hisses and draws back in confusion, her big eyes about to bulge from her head.

  “How the hell…?” Molly blanches even paler than normal.

  “Who is that?” Ben asks innocently, swiveling back and forth between us for answers.

  “Only one of the most notoriously wild Doms at the club. I’m speechless; no idea where to go with that one.” Molly shakes her head in disbelief and nervously begins to pick at the seam of her jeans.

  Replaying the events leading up to the bar scene last night, strategically leaving out the creepy, showing-up-uninvited part and most of the sex stuff, I catch them up on some of what has transpired. Who am I kidding? This is not something that should be hidden from my rat pack.

  “So it isn’t─?” Molly attempts to ask me if it is serious, but I cut her off.

  “No.”

  “And he isn’t─?” Samuel tries to further make sense of it.

  “No!” Fuck, he isn’t my boyfriend all of a sudden!

  “Seeing someone four nights in a row is some sort of record for you, Sor,” Ben randomly enlightens us, almost eliciting a slow clap of irony from me.

  “No shit. Here comes Breonna. Please shut it,” I hiss.

  My sister walks in, takes one look at all of our faces, sits, looks me in the eye, and finally speaks.

  “Who is he?” she excitedly demands, her eyes glittering in delight.

  “No one.” Damn it, why do I even bother? This is why I usually just shoot truth from the hip as lying never does any good.

  “Inis dom, Sorcha,” she warns.

  And thus begins our ten-minute argument in Gaelic, back and forth; isolating our friends as they try to ignore our heated exchange, which is as good as attempting to ignore two battling bulls. By the end, the entire restaurant is staring.

  “Gavin!” I finally relent in enragement, the first comprehensible word my friends can understand.

  “Seriously, a Brit?” is all she can say as she turns her tone down as if nothing happened.

  “I don’t know what he is. Probably a Heinz 57 like most Americans. And how do you get Brit from just his name? Does it really matter?” Out of all that has been said, she is hung up on that? An assumption of origination based on the crazy interworking’s of her overbearing and sometimes judgmental mind? She is crazy!

  “It’s just a feeling I have, and no, it wouldn’t be a problem if he was. I’m shocked by it, that’s all,” she innocently chirps as she primly attempts to straighten up her silverware and other items littered about the table as she processes.

  “No one at this table is more shocked than I am. Period. I have no idea what I am thinking. There is something more there, and I can’t seem to walk away until I give it a chance. We are not dating, we are agreeing to see each other again, and that is where it stays for now.” In an attempt to convince them, it becomes apparent that it is I who needs the convincing. This little lass is falling hard with no safety rope, and she doesn’t like the vulnerability in it one bit.

  “It is perfectly normal to date someone. Why is it so painful?” She pins me with that big-sister glare.

  “I don’t want to deal with the ups, downs, and in-betweens of a relationship. I don’t have time or the desire for that. Dating leads there. What is so hard to understand about that?” The resolve finally returns to my tone as my steadfast beliefs stand tall.

  “Alright already, we’ve heard it a hundred times. Does he know about your commitment issues?” Bre softens her voice again despite the snark.

  “Yes. And they are not issues; it’s a lifestyle choice. Just as you chose to get married and have kids, I choose to avoid all that for the time being.”

  “This ought to be interesting; my money is on a week, tops,” Breonna wagers, causing the others to scoff in protest and then quickly look away from her all-seeing eye. “What? Wait, you know him? Sorcha, did you meet him Thursday night?” She is too perceptive for her own good. Lord help her husband if he ever has a midlife crisis. She is a bloodhound!

  “Yeah.” My head hangs in shame.

  “No way! That changes everything- less than a week.” She nods in a decisive fashion on her wager as her fingers intertwine with our grandmother’s antique, pearl necklace sitting proudly around her slender neck. I’ve always loved that necklace but continue to think it too matriarchal for my taste. She does it justice.

  “What! Why would you say that?” I balk.
/>
  “Anyone as disciplined as that would expect the same from a partner. You are not capable of letting go enough to engage in that type of relationship. You’ve always been so hell-bent on your ways. Stubborn since birth!” Breonna states in a decidedly final manner.

  “I give it a month. Gavin can be quite persuasive and persistent. He may just turn her out for good.” Samuel laughs in an attempt to lighten the mood, and I chuck a jelly packet at him.

  “You all are impossible. Can’t believe you doubt me! How much is this bet worth anyway?” I can’t help but quasi smile at the crazy unfolding.

  “Christmas is coming, and the twins have hefty lists. One hundred a head, place your bets!” Breonna sings as the others chime in their predictions, joining the fun at my expense.

  Fuckers.

  ∞

  The cab pulls up to my curb after a long night’s work and Gavin’s figure leans menacingly against the building’s outer wall with a small, black duffle bag in hand. My body sags under the weight of fatigue and the possibility of being robbed of another night’s decent sleep as I drag my tutu-covered butt out of the taxi.

  “You’re here,” I grumble not so welcomingly, beyond exhausted.

  “Where else would I be?” He tilts his head in question.

  “The dungeon. You come with accessories now?” I tip my chin to the bag. Unlocking the building’s main door, I lead the way up to my studio and try not to gape at the elephant, I mean bag he is toting, my imagination already running wild.

  “I told you what I had planned for us tonight.” The displeasure in his tone lashes out at my seemingly inconvenienced attitude.

  “How does this work? You turn me out, finally prove that I am a sub, and then run on to the next challenge?” I snap out of fear. It isn’t the de-flowering me in a new fashion that triggers it, it is the knowledge of how strongly of a bond I can feel developing coupled with his reputation.

  He pulls me into the studio, closes the door, and pins me up against it, chaffing the faery wings into my back.

  “There is nothing to prove. We are two adults with polar opposite tastes exploring the possibilities of coming together. Period.”

  His mouth claims mine, promptly ending the conversation, and my belongings fall to the floor on impact. As he invades me, stroking my tongue with his skilled one, teasing my pleasure forth, I find myself jumping into his arms and wrapping my legs tightly around his waist with newfound vigor. His hands cup my gartered rear firmly, eliciting a delicious whimper from me as I push my aching breasts further into him. Apparently, I am not as tired as I thought.

  Wrapping his arms around me, he redirects us to the bed, bringing that damn little bag along. Soon, soft fabric sighs against my skin as he eases me onto the duvet. As the scruff of his five o’clock shadow continues to rub me raw amidst our passion, his hands slowly undress me from the costume. He intentionally snaps the elastic waistband of my skirt while keeping our mouths melded, causing a yelp from me that he quickly swallows, never missing a beat as his warm hands quickly recover the offended skin. Yes, he is a sadist. Let’s just hope it’s a sensual one.

  “Oh, pet. I’ve been bursting at the seams all day, waiting for this. I don’t think I have ever wanted anything more.” He groans as he tears himself away from me to remove his own clothes. The look of pure, unadulterated hunger thundering across his face suddenly makes me self-conscious, a feeling I am not used to as modesty has never made sense to me.

  “Sorcha, love, there is no need to be frightened. You know I would never hurt you; however, the safe words you learned from Samuel apply here as well.” He eases his heavy body to his knees on the floor and grips my thighs, easily pulling my weight down so that his face is flush with the slit between my thighs. The possessive act titillates me, causing my breasts to become heavy in anticipation. Unspoken determination etches in the planes of his face; he is a man on a mission to get everything that he wants, no doubt.

  “Gavin-“

  “Master or Sir, pet,” he gently but forcefully reminds me. The fact that he has switched to ‘pet’ when addressing me makes it easier to comply with his wishes. It’s much better than ‘girl.’

  “Sir, I am not afraid of you. Far from it.”

  “Good, then why the apprehension?” His inviting aura easily appeals to my uneasy side.

  “The intensity in your face makes this all the more real, I am still… adjusting.”

  “Well, allow me to make it easier.” He sinks between my legs. The hunger in which he licks, sucks and nips at my clit is something that quickly brings me to the edge, ready for release in a matter of minutes. Reading my body like a book, he moves his mouth to the inside of my leg, fingers my G-spot and lightly bites my thigh as he traverses down to my knee before repeating the same to the other leg, all the while keeping the pressure in my core at the perfect level with his treacherous fingers. He leaves me hanging and uses the sensual pain to keep me suspended just before orgasm drives me mad, manipulating my body into a shaking mess, desperate for release.

  “Please, Gav─ Sir,” I whimper, catching my almost mistake but clearly not able to keep from begging, as much as I was trying to, and he knows it.

  “Please, what?” he mumbles into my flesh without pausing.

  “I need to come; this is too much!” I yell and arch back further than I thought possible as his fingers strum through me once more.

  “What? This?” he innocently asks as he heads in for another round on the first thigh.

  “Yes!”

  “If it is too much, you have your safe word,” he challenges.

  Oh, shit. This is payback for the other night. Safe word stops it all; I really don’t want it to stop. Sticking it out allows him to torture me but the ecstasy will continue. His finger lightly massages my G-spot again, causing me to groan out in need. I feel his lips curl into a smile as he works the sensitive tissue on my inner leg.

  “Okay, Sir! I am sorry for the ghost pepper,” I grit out, wagering an apology in hopes of a final release.

  “Is that what that was? Clever little minx, aren’t you? Sorry, pet, you don’t get off that easy. That mouth of yours has been tallying up quite a bill, not to mention your actions.”

  The need to orgasm becoming painful now, hot tears of frustration roll out as I clench my jaw, refusing to give in. “What actions are those, sir?” I manage through heavy breath, waiting to be put out of my misery.

  “Teasing my cock into a frenzy for days and causing me to feel jealousy, something I haven’t been familiar with until now, and I don’t like it one bit.” His displeased tone caresses my flesh as he moves his mouth back to my core and I hiss at the contact, almost hitting the ceiling. A thick palm comes to rest on my lower belly, bringing my back down to meet the mattress, holding me still. Toes curling in the bedding, I bite my lip against the urge to scream in utter, manic frustration. I attempt to pump my hips against his mouth to get enough friction to tip me over the edge, but I should have known better.

  Gavin stops immediately, narrowing his eyes darkly before grabbing the bag. Soon after, cool lube brushes against my bottom as he repositions himself. His mouth takes its place and a nimble finger pushes into my virgin entrance in a swift fashion, leaving no room for hesitation. Pleasure and pain mix to the point where I scream his name in lust, protest, and earnest. The only answer I receive to my unspoken plea is more cool gel and a gentle massaging from that finger, now joined by another, circulating around, stretching me, readying me.

  It is really hard to describe that place you go to when you are pushed past the brink of lusty madness, past the psychological and physiological limits that have bound you for a lifetime into a sweet void. Whatever that… that place is called, that is where he has now taken me.

  “Hmmm, Sorcha, the sound of you screaming my name is like the sound of angels, absolutely heavenly. The safe word hasn’t come out yet, so it is time to pay your dues, pet. I will own that perfect, supple ass of yours.” His voice drips l
ike honey through my veins, igniting a spark that catches like wildfire.

  At this point, I am willing to do anything to come. Or anything he wants really, and I rather like the ass play if I’m being honest, something I might be able to use to my advantage. He stands, his glorious erection towering out from his hips, causing me to momentarily rethink my devious meanderings as he turns me over onto my stomach and eases onto my knees with my hips back, lining my bottom up to his desire. After the sound of foil tearing and more lube endowing my rear, his fingers are in me once more, making me forget about his cock. The sensation is indescribable. I shouldn’t like this; this shouldn’t get me off this much. But it does. Lord have mercy, it does.

  Something inside takes over and all I can think about is how much I want to have him claim me… there. The desire is so great, it becomes obvious how turned on and primed I am as my own wetness begins to drip down my inner thigh. As I moan and clench around the delicious friction, his own breath draws in sharply, turning into a hissing “fuck.” His cock pushes at where his fingers are working, and in one fluid, rhythmic motion, his fingers are gone and the tip is in.

  My head snaps back, eyes wide in surprise as the burn lashes through my ass and down my thighs. His free hand roughly rakes down my back and ends at my clit, a soft, padded finger gently coaxing the nerve-laden nubbin, causing my hips to dip and melt as relaxation sets in, and unadulterated pleasure makes me forget about the pressure in my rear. As he brings me to the brink once more, he orders me to “push out” as he feeds himself into me a little more. Burning and fullness rip through me as the taste of a coming orgasm entices me on.

  “Oh, God!” I scream again, overcome with the glorious melding of pain and pleasure, clawing at the bed in an attempt to make sure that the world doesn’t tilt on axes.

  He stops pushing inward and teases my clit further, causing me to relax more as well as shake and mewl.