“Uh-oh, you’re not taking yourself off the market, are you? Going to be a lot of broken hearts around here if you settle down.”
“Nothing planned,” I assured him, giving him the one-armed man hug good-bye.
I made it through another hour hanging out at the beach. The whole bikini-in-the-wind-chill thing started wearing on my nerves. She finally got the picture and changed course, latching on to a much more willing recipient for her flirtations. I headed to a grill where a guy I knew worked and grabbed a burger. Then a friend and I stopped by a party at a vacation rental. The average age seemed about 22 and everyone was acting like they were extras in Animal House. All I could keep thinking about was the family that owned the property and how much they’d have to fork out to cover the damages.
A girl in a sundress dress that ended at her crotch sat herself down right on my lap.
“Wanna play a game?” she asked, drunk as a skunk.
“Not right now, kiddo.” I patted her leg and helped her to her feet again.
“You suck,” she spat out as she wobbled off through the party.
That was my cue to leave. Some people waited until the fat lady sang. I waited until the drunk girls started telling me I sucked.
The only drink I’d had all night was the beer with my buddy by the beach, so I drove off steady into the night. Unfortunately, my mind was fixed as steady as my wheels and all I could keep thinking about was goddamned Sophie Douglas. Standing there in that simple white dress, looking so much more beautiful with so much less effort than any woman I’d seen anywhere that night. Or ever, maybe. It fucking sucked.
When I got home, I fixed myself a drink. I didn’t do it often, what with my whole not-wanting-to-be-my-father complex. But I needed a drink that night if I had any prayer of falling asleep. It was hard enough with my firefighter’s clock set to wake at all hours of the night.
She’d looked so good it had hurt. So many years had passed, I’d told myself I’d exaggerated her beauty. No one actually looked incandescent, as if lit from a candle within. But she did. She fucking glowed and she held herself like a sculpture, a posed work of art. Her creamy shoulders exposed in that sundress, her skin like silk, her hair falling in tendrils, long enough to curve at the swell of her breast.
Downing the rest of my drink, I decided I’d take a shower and work some heat and steam into my body. Stripped down, I stepped under the pulse of water, turned up almost to the point of scalding. Hands up against the wall, I let the water pound on my back muscles.
And my hand traveled down where it inevitably did, wrapping around my already-hard cock. Sophie in that dress. Her soft, pink lips slightly parted as she looked at me, eyes open wide. Her slim waist, perfect for slipping my hands around. She was so flexible, so pliable, so eager and ready to explore. At 20 years old, I’d had no idea what I was doing. Her body was a playground and I’d lost myself in it, the two of us learning together what felt good.
Now I knew what I liked best. The games I played had grown in sophistication, deepening in emotional and physical complexity as I’d realized I was a dom. I’d had plenty of subs to train and play with over the years, to cultivate and hone my skills. I knew how to own and control pleasure like no other.
It was Sophie’s flesh that I wanted to extract it out of. My cock swelled in my hand, so hard it was painful but I deliberately delayed my release. Slowly stroking, I pictured her in that white dress, so innocent, looking so virginal. There was a counter in the back room of that historic building. I pictured bending her down over it, my hand at the back of her neck as I held her down.
She’d be nervous and unsure, maybe ask me in a timid voice what I was doing. In answer, I’d push her dress up her back so I could see the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips. I’d rip off her panties, exposing the pale swell of her vulnerable ass as she stood there shaking. Without any warning, I’d bring my large, rough hand down on her cheek to give her a sharp spank.
Her cry of surprise and shock would only drive me on further, fuel the boiling in my blood. I’d spank her again, hard, leaving a mark on her sensitive skin, then drive down on her again and again, my hand merciless, my punishment severe. Until that moment, that golden tipping point, when all the tension in her body, all the anxiety, confusion and pain suddenly melted into a moan of needy pleasure.
I could picture it, the slight curve in her lower spine as she offered herself up, showing me she wanted more. Needed more. Then I’d have her and could take her however I wanted. She’d surrender to me completely, and that emotional connection was what I most craved with her, the intense intimacy that formed through the meeting of our true natures. Stripping away how we had to behave, what we thought was right, conventions and requirements and roles. Just us, Sophie my sub and I her dom, teaching her how much pleasure she could possibly experience.
It was picturing her pussy that finished me. I imagined bringing my hand down, first hard, then soft as she started moaning. Coaxing her feet farther apart. Kneeling down to inspect my girl after her spanking, what would I find? Her pussy, glistening with need, wet with arousal, begging me for so much more. I came hot and hard, my seed spilling out against the tile wall, my groans swallowed by the hot pulse of the shower.
Immediately afterward, regret flooded over me. What was I doing, jacking off to thoughts of Sophie? Especially when I could be out having actual sex with real women who wanted nothing more than a night of pleasure. What was wrong with me that I still chose Sophie, even just a fantasy of her, above all else?
That wasn’t going to happen again. I lathered up with a cake of soap, washing off the wall, cleaning every inch of my body in the hot water. That had been a moment of weakness, but now it had passed. I’d been taken by surprise seeing Sophie today, so a moment was to be expected. But now I’d had it, and it was over.
From that moment on I’d keep better control of myself. After all, that’s what I was good at, wielding control. I knew how to keep myself on lockdown, how to shut off, resist, and not think about what I most wanted. I’d done it for seven years now. I could do it for the rest of my life, no problem.
5
Sophie
“Didja do it?” Regina looked at me expectantly from behind the counter. “Are you my new neighbor?”
“I’m still in the closing phase. But, yes, I think I’m going to be your new neighbor!” Even as I said the words, I only half believed it myself. The sellers had come down in price in exchange for a ten-day close. I knew that seemed suspiciously rushed, but as impatient as I felt even ten days seemed like too long.
“Shut up!” She clapped her hands in delight and ran around the side to come give me a big hug. “Welcome to the hood!”
“Thank you.” I hugged her back, glad at least one other person was happy about it. Well, Eloise was happy, too. That made three of us. Everyone else thought I was insane.
My mother had simply refused to believe it was happening. “You want to buy what?” Cocktail in one hand, the other on her hip, she’d stared me down like a pro. But she forgot I’d learned from her, and I could stare right back.
“I’m going to buy the building at 11 Cherry Street. I’m going to live on the second floor and operate a dance studio on the first.”
“You’re going to open up a shop.” She paused for dramatic effect, the word “shop” dropping like a nasty swear. “And live above it?”
Her words dripped with such disdain it was almost funny. But if she’d hoped to dissuade me, her objections only made me even more certain I had to do it.
“That’s absurd.” She’d left the room. Later she’d tried telling me she wouldn’t give me a penny, which of course I didn’t need anyway because not only had I been earning my own money for years, I also had a trust fund fully in my own name. Later she’d tried guilt, “but I’ll never see you,” and shame, “what will people think?” But it didn’t matter. I was set on it.
It was a lot more fun to talk about it with Regina.
&nbs
p; “OK, come here for a second. I need to give you some cookies.” Regina put a couple of cookies into a bag and handed them to me. “You’re going to need these.”
“Thank you,” I laughed, insisting on putting five dollars into the tip jar. She was right. I was going to need those cookies. I had an uphill battle on my hands. My next stop of the day was the Naugatuck Historical Society where I was making a daily effort to work toward a compromise. I’d brought them homemade cookies, jars of locally made cranberry jam and honey, and yesterday an expensive bottle of champagne. Today I figured I’d bring them a couple of coffees from Cuppa Joe to go. Shameless attempts at bribery, I knew, but those people were tough old birds. They also talked slowly, processed slowly, and needed to state their case in nine different ways, so I was giving them all of my patience.
I’d needed a project and boy I had one now. I hadn’t thought about buying the whole building, just leasing the bottom floor, but once the realtor gave me a tour of the place she explained that the owner wanted to sell, not lease. It was a package deal, the whole building.
I saw why no one had bought it, why it had lain vacant for years. But to me, it was the perfect solution. I needed to move out of my mother’s house, with all of her anger and judgment. The words not spoken fairly screamed from the walls and it made me feel crazy. I’d been living on my own for seven years now, or at least not with my parents. I’d had a constantly changing stream of roommates, other dancers and then George, for about a year. But this time I needed to be on my own, living by myself, getting my head screwed on right. And hopefully, never running into Liam Connolly again.
After buying a couple of coffees and offering my profuse thanks, I walked the couple of blocks over to the historical society, munching a cookie along the way. The streets were flooded with tourists, swelling the island’s population to several thousand, so there was really no reason to keep looking over my shoulder for Liam. But I kept wondering if I’d see him anyway.
The nerve of that man. He’d treated me so coldly, like I was an enemy. He still looked infuriatingly hot as hell, so tall and chiseled with muscle, even bigger than when I’d known him last. And those eyes? I’d had to catch my breath when he’d looked at me full on. At first I’d seen such depth in them, such emotion. But when he’d returned for the inspection after his phone call, he’d been closed, rude and dismissive.