Page 35 of Down the Aisle
Taking a deep breath, I steadied my voice to speak in a calm and comfortable manner. "There is nothing wrong with being into BDSM after you've been through trauma. It doesn't make you a fucked-up person or messed up in the brain or anything like that, and if anyone says otherwise, then you flip them off and tell them to get fucked." It was one of those things that was easier said than done. "Just because you like pain does not mean you like to be abused, nor does it mean anyone has permission to lay their hands on you. There is a huge fucking difference between flat-out abuse and a controlled session or consensual play involving pain. Yes, the lines can be easily blurred and misconstrued, which is what a lot of abusers and fake Doms use as an excuse and manipulation tactic, but that is all bullshit. So, don't you dare let anyone try to tell you otherwise."
Guess this car ride would turn into a BDSM 101 talk. Totally not awkward. "Even if people are more accepting in this day and age, BDSM is one of those touchy subjects that a lot of people still grossly misunderstand. It's also misrepresented and gets a bad rep more often than not, so don't listen to the chatter in the air because it's stupid shit from mindless monkeys." Why the hell was I doing that to myself?
I should've stopped the conversation and saved it for a more serious or intimate time, or at least a time where the option to physically walk away from the other was present. If things took an awkward turn now, then, well, we were stuck in the car for at least another hour.
On the other hand, since we were already on the topic, we might as well dive deeper.
"Here, tell me this." I waited until I felt her eyes bore into me before continuing. "Why did you get into BDSM? Or what got you interested? Any aspect or idea or dynamic? Just whatsparked things for you?" Maybe leading with such questions would've been a better start.
Besides the various kid songs coming from the back, the sound of her thoughtful humming and soft clicks of her habitual nail-picking occupied the car's cabin. "Mia rosa, what did I tell you about picking your nails?" I wasn't bothered or disgusted by her habit; I didn't want her engaging in it because it was destructive. If I let her go on, she'd chip away at her nails until she hit the bed and bled.
The soft clicks instantly stopped. "Sorry." Her quick apology came out sheepishly. "But your question… I… It… Hmm…" Irritation strangled at her words as she fidgeted in her seat. "Sorry, it's just a little weird to talk about… My ex always ridiculed me for it so…"
Remind me to cut his tongue out and feed it to him before I break his face.
Eliza's body stiffened under me. "Huh? What?"
Shit.
"Hm? Sorry, just a thought that slipped, don't worry." Hopefully, she didn't hear it. Otherwise, that'd be a not-so-fun conversation to be had.
Shaking my nerves away, I recollected myself, and cleared my throat. "Eliza, if I was going to ridicule you, which I won't ever do, then why would I have engaged in this conversation?" I brought us back to the talk at hand. "Also, you are going to have to start forgetting about your shitty ex and all he's told you because he sounds like an absolute bastard, and you should never listen to one," I joked with a dry chuckle.
A soft sigh fell from her lips before I felt a slight shrug from her. "I don't know. Maybe you're asking so you know what to use to ridicule me for," she answered in a dejected voice. "That's what James always did."
James.
The leather of the steering wheel cried under my tightening grip. I finally got something out of her about her damn ex. At least I had a name to start my hunt.
Breaking the tension with a warm chuckle, I relaxed my outstretched arm, letting it slide down her body to her thighs. Of course, I couldn't help myself from squeezing a handful of her soft thighs once my hand was there, making her giggle and squirm a little. "Stop it." She lightly smacked my hand. "I know they're getting fat. You don't gotta rub it in my face." The strain in her playful voice made me frown internally at the tugging feeling in my chest.
Sighing, I shook my head.
God, this woman.
Every time it felt like I had put a piece of her back together, I'd find a whole other pile after the rubble cleared. Discovering more broken pieces of her wouldn't deter me, though. On the contrary, it made me want to hold her closer and cherish her more because she needed and deserved it all.
It was hard to fathom how anyone out there could've been so cruel to my sweet Eliza. Yes, I knew shitty people filled the world, and they would do anything to get a leg up. I just hated how Eliza was unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of abhorrent treatment for Lord knows how long.
"Eliza, you are but a pile of sticks. You need to get some meat on your bones before you become an actual skeleton." I chided playfully, chuckling rather forcefully to hold back my disdain about her lack of self-esteem. "Besides, I love plush thighs. They make the best pillows, and it feels quite nice to have my head squished between them when I go down on a woman." Okay, maybe I should've left out that last part because it felt a little sudden.
I was about to apologize and tell her to forget about it, but she caused my eyebrow to raise with her next words. "Youlike to go down on a person?" she squeaked, sounding a little embarrassed.
Unable to help it, I chuckled rather heartily in response. "Yes, I do. I love making my partner squirm and scream under me with pleasure from just my mouth and tongue, and something about the taste of a woman drives me crazy." Giving her a wary glance, I debated my next mouthful carefully for a few seconds before going fuck it and spilling it. "It might sound a little dirty and shit, but I'm going to be honest with you. I've thought about going down on you so many times. Jerked myself off to fantasies of how wonderful you're going to taste. How your delicious lips will moan out a special song just for my ears, and how amazing it's going to feel making you shatter with every orgasm I make your body have."
The thought of slamming my head against the steering wheel was very tempting right now.
My fucking God! That did not sound hot! That sounds creepy as fuck! Oh, my fucking God, Adam. If you didn't blow your chances by now, you definitely just did!
Heat burned my cheeks as I sat there with a fake smug smile plastered on my face, not wanting to make a whole fucking idiot out of myself in front of her. I was sure her hand would come across my face any second now, or a stern scolding, or she'd probably tell me to stop the car or turn the fuck around. Any second now, the rejection was just over the horizon.
"You really think about me that much?"
"Yes, that was cree—huh?"
…
I sat there with my mouth hanging open like an absolute idiot as the wires in my brain struggled to connect. The apology I'd formulated burned to ashes when I didn't get a mouthful of seething words from Eliza. Or maybe I'd hallucinated it, twisted her actual words in my mind to something more favorable.
