Page 38 of Left of the Slash
“Yeah, that's it,” I say, still pounding her and preparing for what I know is coming. “Cover my fucking cock in your cum.”
She bursts like a broken water main, squirting all over me as her body spasms, sending me reeling. I'm absolutely shocked at her wet explosion, and I can't help it when my body defies me and I succumb to my own orgasm that sends stars streaking across my vision like the night sky. Both of us shake and quiver, our muscles filled with tiny tremors that make the St. Andrew’s cross rock back and forth against our weight.
It takes time for me to regain strength in my knees, but when I do, I waste no time putting the toys down, removing the nipple clamps, and unfastening Olivia’s arms and legs. Once she's free, she practically falls into my arms, and I sweep her off her feet to carry her over to the bed, where I lay her down gently and climb on after her. She immediately curls into me once I'm next to her,wrapping her arms around my torso as I envelop her with my arms at the same time. She throws a leg over my waist and buries her face in my neck, and the second she's settled she begins to cry. I frown as her body spasms against mine and she releases soft sobs against my hot flesh.
“Hey,” I say, trying to move my head back enough to see her face, but each time I do, she tightens her grip on me, refusing to let me move away even a centimeter. “Olivia, what’s the matter? Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” she replies, her whimpers quickly gaining strength. “I can't talk about it right now, but just know that you did everything right. This was exactly what I've been looking for. Now, please … just hold me. Please, Quinn.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, I pull Olivia into me even tighter, flexing my arms around her as she begins to bawl. I'm clearly new to this, so I have no idea what’s happening right now, but she said I did everything right, so instead of replaying the entire session in my head and driving myself crazy with questions, I simply do as she has asked. I hold her, breathing in the scent of her hair and making sure to keep her as close as our bodies will allow. I don't make it sexual or try to speak to her about her feelings. I give Olivia the time, quiet, and peace she needs to unload her emotions. I take it all without saying a word.
We don't need to speak. We just need to be together, and that’s all she's asking of me—to simply be there for her. So, I settle in while she continues to let it all out. I don't move a muscle. I'm as still as she needs me to be, and even while sitting in silence and exhaustion, I find myself repeating a phrase over and over again in my mind. Words I don't dare speak.
I could get used to this.
TWENTY-THREE - Olivia
Chardonnay hits my lips and turns my muscles into putty, finally releasing the built up tension that has been there since my first true BDSM scene in far too long. In truth, even though I'm versed in BDSM scenes, what just took place with Quinn made all the others feel like nothing more than a warmup. There is still a lot for him to learn through experience, but it has never been clearer to me that I was right about him. He is a true Dom in mind, body, and spirit. Our chemistry was off the charts, and even now, as we sit on the bed in my basement with Quinn rubbing my feet while I take sips of white wine, he’s still doing everything right.
It took a moment for my body to course-correct after being tied to a St. Andrew’s cross and flogged across every inch of my torso. The pain was beautiful—a combination of stinging and singing that set my nerves ablaze and distorted the signals tomy brain. I let go, completely giving myself over to Quinn and allowing him to do whatever he wanted. He asked me if I trusted him and I told the truth—I trust him more and more with each passing day, hour, and minute, and tonight may have made that trust complete. With every circle his thumb rubs into the sole of my foot, my faith in him grows.
He sits at the far edge of the bed with nothing but his white pants on, his green eyes solely focused on his task. As I lift my wine glass again, I watch him closely. I'm not even sure what I'm looking for as I stare at him with a smirk threatening to turn into a smile. Maybe I'm looking for a reason to dislike him. There has to be something there that isn't trustworthy—something hidden or terrifying. He's a man, after all. There is no way he is built with layer after layer of perfection. Nobody is, but especially not a man.
Right?
I don't like the way my heart feels when I look at him, yet I can't pull my eyes away from his gorgeous face. The muscles in his round shoulders and thick arms dance with every movement he makes—a symphony of flexes and spasms that ripple across his body like a pond after a stone has been dropped into it. He still smells good, even after swinging that flogger over and over again and working up a sweat. He unknowingly put me into subspace in the middle of that intense scene, and even after everything has finished, he still carries that dominant aura. I don't think most men understand that massaging a sub’s feet isn't subservient. It’s the most masculine thing in the world. Even now, I'm still mentally tied to that cross for him, calmly allowing him to soothe me after hurting me. I don't want to admit it, but it’s clearly true. Quinn is the real deal.
Shit.
“You're good at that,” I tell him before taking another sip of Chardonnay.
He smiles proudly—a schoolboy realizing he has solved the difficult equation. “Thank you. I'm just glad that it’s making you feel better. I was worried there for a minute.”
I grin, remembering how concerned he was when I was sobbing into his neck like a fallen toddler. “No need to be worried. It was just a severe case of sub drop. It happens after intense scenes, and I hadn't had a scene that powerful in a long time. You didgreatfor your first time.”
“Yeah? I mean, I felt like I did in the moment, but everything afterward had me wondering if there was a misstep in there somewhere that I didn't realize. You said it was a case of sub drop? What is that?”
I sip my wine again before letting out a soft moan from how good his strong hands feel on my toes. “It’s like a chemical imbalance brought to life. With everything that happens during a BDSM scene, the body goes through a lot. The brain is confused as it conflates pain and pleasure, and the signals get crossed. Especially when you're in subspace, where you completely give in and fall into a euphoric, almost mindless state of bliss and agony. After all of that comes to an end, the brain and body are conflicted with each other. The usually perfect combination between the two starts to feel a lot more like water and oil trying to mix, and I'm simply a passenger along for the ride as they try to reset the wires. The end result is usually combustible emotions like what you saw earlier. I cry, not even knowing why I'm crying, but the intensity is really acute. It’s sharp like a knife slowly severing my heart, and I have no idea when it will end. It could take hours or days, but it’s completely out of my control. I even had a guy end things with me once because I just couldn't pull myself out of it fast enough for him. After twenty-four hours of trying to solve an unsolvable riddle, he gave up—never called again or responded to me reaching out.”
“Goddamn,” Quinn exclaims. His voice sounds shocked, but his face looks angry.
I giggle. “Yeah, but I'm not mad at him. When someone shows you who they are, it’s best to believe them. He helped me to dodge a bullet, so I'm actually grateful that he did what he did. Anyway, that's all it was earlier. Just sub drop. I'm fine now, clearly. This aftercare certainly makes it all better, so just keep doing what you're doing.”
Quinn smiles and switches from one foot to the other, making sure to cover my legs with the sheets since I'm still naked. He has already mastered this part of it, too. Aftercare is not only necessary, it’s required, and it’s not meant to be sexual. It simply iscare, so I smirk as he makes sure to cover my naked body and solely focus on rubbing my feet while I lean against the headboard and sip wine like a goddess.
After a few moments of silence that I keep interrupting with my moans of satisfaction, Quinn, who is clearly in deep thought, clears his throat and looks up at me.
“Let me ask you a question,” he says, smiling to himself. “Does Eden know about us?”
My eyes bulge before I spit out a laugh. “Umm, can I plead the fifth?”
“Wow,” he says, chuckling. “Pleading the fifth is all the answer I need.”
“I'm sorry,” I say, still laughing. “Eden is my best friend. I tell her everything. If it makes you feel any better, she has been telling me to go for it with you for a while now. I fought off the desire in the name of being professional, but it eventually happened thanks to your undeniable charm, and she has been thrilled hearing about it all. I've only had the best things to say about you.”
“It helps a little,” he says with a shrug. “Well, I appreciate her having my back, and it’s nice to know that she sees me assomething good for you. If she was trying to hide her knowledge, she did a bad job. She kept giving me this look like she knew a secret about me that I didn't even know about myself. I guess I know what it is now.”
I can't help but to keep laughing. “Of course she was, damn her. She has to do a better job. We’ve been friends for a very long time, so it’s only natural that I tell her everything. What? You don't have anybody that you talk to about your sex life?”
