[Siren Sensations: Contemporary Consensual BDSM, collaring, bondage, spanking, flogging, mild public exhibition, HEA]
Rusty and Eliza have survived every trial life has thrown at them. In their thirty years together, there hasn’t been a storm they couldn’t weather. They’ve been partners in everything, and Eliza is the glue that holds Rusty’s tattered soul together.
Now toss in spending a month apart while Rusty is overseas for work, combined with an emotionally triggering curveball from where they least expect it. Parenthood is hard, but letting go is even harder, and Eliza makes choices to withhold info from Rusty for his own good.
When a normally reliable outlet for Rusty becomes embroiled in a battle for control, will the dependable barbarian finally snap, or can Eliza rein in her hard-headed and emotional knight before he does something he can’t take back?
Dr. Rusty McElroy sat at a table in a small all-night cafe in Frankfurt, Germany. It was nearly one o’clock Wednesday morning, and exhausted didn’t even begin to scratch the surface of what he was feeling.
This was the middle of week two of a grueling series of professional conferences and private meetings with clients he was attending in the city. He’d managed to pry himself out of a dinner a little early, so he could prepare, just to discover the Wi-Fi was down at his hotel.
And, so, now he was here.
“No, I can’t do that,” he wearily said as he sat back and loosened his tie.
“What do you mean, you can’t do that?” Milo asked. “You’re standing right freaking there! Um, so to speak.”
“I crit fumbled last round,” Rusty reminded him as he tweaked the volume up a hair on his earbuds. “I’m stunned for another round.”
“But he didn’t say fudge,” Eliza piped up, prompting a round of laughter from his iPad. He had its cover flipped up to double as its stand, the Skype app open as he watched the play from where Eliza had her iPad propped up next to her in his usual spot at the game table in Grant, Darryl, and Susie’s game room in Sarasota, Florida. There, it was almost seven on Tuesday evening.
“Danke,” Rusty said to the waiter when the man refilled his coffee for him.
This wasn’t the ideal way to play D&D with his friends, but he didn’t want to miss their game. Last week, he’d been able to play from his hotel room, even though it’d sucked having to put clothes on.
Skype worked both ways.
He loved his friends, and had even known some of them since high school, but he didn’t know them that well.
Well, actually he did, and most of them had seen him naked at some point. He’d even seen a couple of them naked. Still, they had to be cool around the game group, because John remained relatively clueless, and Darryl’s son, Kyle, was a teenager.
Someone male started singing “Danke Schoen” in Florida—he thought it might even be Axel, their distinctly evil and sadistic DM—and Rusty groaned.
“Come on. I begged you guys not to evil earworm me!”
Eliza giggled again. “That was your first mistake, barbarian. You should know better than to tell a group of sadists what makes you cringe.”
Rusty grumbled and reached out to fiddle with his set of polyhedral dice, where they sat on top of his game sheets. Translucent light blue with sparkles in them and black numbers, it was Eliza’s favorite set. She’d sent it with him on his trip as a little reminder of her for him.
Sure, he could have had Eliza play his character for him, but he missed her. This was one small way he could feel connected to her.
And a way to keep a little normalcy per his usual routine, especially since by the time he finally returned home, he’d have been gone nearly four weeks, total.
Three hours later, Rusty was about to fall asleep despite having lost count of how many coffee refills he’d had, and having lasted through a shift change and now having a new server.
Still, he didn’t want to log off.
The game was breaking up, Axel’s phone having wheezed out the sound of the TARDIS taking off at ten p.m. Florida time. Eliza picked up the iPad and brought it close to her face, her gaze glancing around for a moment before she smiled directly into the camera.
She also dropped her voice. “Want to ride home with me, Rus? Or do you need to get to bed?”
He didn’t miss her using his name.
He knew she wouldn’t miss how he answered, either. “My first meeting isn’t until after lunch today, Ma’am.”
He might have planned that into the itinerary.
For all three Tuesdays he’d be there.
“Okay. Let me grab my stuff and we can say good-bye and blow this pop stand.”
“Thank you, Ma’am.” He sat back in his chair as she set the iPad down again, this time flat on the table. He could see part of the ceiling and half of her face as she gathered her game sheets. She had the originals of his sheets with her, and he had copies. That way, if something came up, she could still play his character for him.
She’d hooked her iPad into her phone’s hot-spot upon reaching Grant’s tonight, because they had unlimited data on their cell plan, and she was a little superstitious sometimes. She didn’t like the idea of maybe losing the connection with him if she had to switch from Grant’s WiFi to her hot-spot.
After saying their good-byes, where she carried him facing out so he could wave and talk, they headed out to her SUV.
“Want me to belt you in, barbarian?” she teased as she set her things in the back seat.
If he was there, he’d be carrying everything for her, holding her door open for her—passenger side, because he’d be driving her.
He hated that he wasn’t there for her, even though he knew damn well it was this very same job that kept them able to live the way they did. Sure, they wanted for nothing, and lived in the house he grew up in, but it also meant he could have Eliza retire and not need to work.
“I want to watch you drive, Ma’am,” he quietly said.
Overall, he had little to bitch about professionally.
This was one of those rare times, loneliness and homesickness so painfully keening that he was struggling not to break down crying right there.
Retirement was looking good. Better every month. Their bottom line meant he could do it.
Except…fear. Fear of not being able to take care of Eliza, old fears creeping in, of the long hours his mother worked, until she worked herself to death.
I don’t want to die like that.
The way his younger brother almost did.
I wish Eliza was here with me.
But they didn’t want to leave their two bulldogs alone for that long. They’d only just adopted Chica a few weeks before Rusty was scheduled to leave on the trip. She’d settled in quickly with Boo, their other, older bulldog, but neither of them wanted the dog to think they’d abandoned her.
He wanted to buy an RV, take them, the dogs, and travel the US.
In his line of work, taking a month off here and there wasn’t advisable. Volatile markets, political upheavals, Brexit—all sorts of stuff. Hell, the nearly a month he’d be gone and hyper-focused on what he was doing over here now meant he’d be playing catch-up for weeks on the back end upon returning to Florida.
And his own back end wasn’t getting the kind of workout he wished it was, either. Not with Eliza being home and not with him.
Once she was safely belted in and had started the SUV, she smiled at him. “Are you really okay, honey?”
“I’m just tired, Ma’am. I want to make sure you’re safely home first, though.”
“Kailey called me this afternoon.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Good. Just wanted to chat. She indicated things are going well with Gerald.”
Rusty grumbled. “Why can’t I pound him?”
“Hey, you told me I couldn’t pound him.”
“At least you got to nearly dislocate his shoulder.”
She snorted. “That’ll teach him to startle me.”
“He didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Maybe I did mean to scare the crap out of him.” Her wicked smile confirmed something Rusty had long suspected ever since the incident happened, but hadn’t outright asked.
“I think you did that, Ma’am. And then some. I kinda suspected you meant to do it.”
“Can’t sneak anything past you, can I, barbarian?”
It felt good to chuckle. “Love you, Ma’am.”
“Love you, too, Rus.” She sighed. “Miss you like hell.”
“Miss you, too.”
She glanced his direction. “You going to be able to sleep after all that coffee?”
“I hope so.” He wanted to reach out and touch her. She was so close, merely inches away, and yet completely unavailable to him right now like this.
“You have permission, you know.”
She didn’t need to specify what permission she meant. “I know, Ma’am,” he softly said.
Eliza audibly sighed and sent another glance his way. “Rus, I told you before you left, do what you need to do to get through this. It’s okay.”
He propped his chin in his left palm, his elbow on the table. “I’m a big boy. I’ll survive. I survived a couple of years of a certain gorgeous girl grinding on me. I can survive a few weeks.”
“Yeah, but I was helping you release pressure in other ways back then.”
He shrugged without dislodging his chin. “Doesn’t matter.”
Besides, when he wasn’t with her now, experience had shown him, it was damned near impossible for him to come. He could get himself to the edge and usually couldn’t get over.
Not without Eliza there.
And then he’d just be lonely, horny, and frustrated as hell. Sure, there’d been times at home he’d been horny and she hadn’t been in the mood, so she’d told him to take care of himself.
That was a direct order. And he was usually lying with his head tucked against her shoulder while he did it, breathing in her scent, listening to her voice in his ear, feeling her fingers caressing his cheek, or tangled in his hair.
Her teeth clamping down on his shoulder, or nails raking up his abs.
He needed that, needed the pain to really sail over the edge like that when masturbating. Absolutely he could have sex with her—as vanilla as it ever got between them, anyway—and not need pain to make it over.
But that was with her.
And he wasn’t with her right now.
Sometimes he could make it over if he had her on Skype, talking him through it.
Kind of difficult to do with no Wi-Fi. Besides, he honestly wasn’t in the mood to do anything. He was too tired and too lonely and trying to force himself to come just because frequently kicked him in the ass on the back side with bad nightmares of what he’d endured as a kid.
Nightmares made infinitely worse by not having Eliza in bed with him to soothe him back to sleep.
When Eliza made it home, he watched while she once again juggled her things. He hated that she had to carry her own stuff. No, Eliza was far from helpless…
But that was his job. Taking care of her and things around the house should be what he was doing right now.
He felt like he was failing her, even though he logically knew she didn’t feel like that.
Rusty had never been so glad to pull into his own driveway than he was that evening. “Home sweet home.”
Eliza patted his thigh. “I’ll get the alarm shut off and walk the girls.”
“Thank you, Ma’am.”
She offered him a smile. “Good to have you home, sweetie.”
She headed inside while he unloaded his bags. As soon as he had the front door shut behind him, he locked it and toed off his shoes.
He shrugged off his blazer, dropped it onto the floor because it needed a trip to the cleaner’s anyway, and reached for his tie to loosen it, pulling it off over his head without untying it. Closing his eyes, he dropped his tie onto his jacket and started working on his shirt buttons.
He heard the back sliding glass door open. “Go get Daddy!”
Immediately accompanied by the sound of two sets of bulldog nails scrabbling on the floor, and shnurfly bulldog grunts, and panting.
He opened his eyes in time to see two eager, clumsy fawn and white bulldogs charging through the living room toward him. He dropped to his knees to greet them, immediately getting slobbered.
He didn’t even care.
Boo and Chica eagerly surrounded him, sniffing him, licking his face, their docked tails and rumps wagging, and what little irritation still remained in him from finding out about Kailey and Gerald evaporated.
Nothing bad could survive the onslaught of bulldog cheer.
Eliza chuckled as she walked up to them. “I warned them I was bringing Daddy home. I don’t think they believed me. Sit!”
Rusty fought the urge to plop back onto his butt as both bulldogs’ rumps hit the floor and they looked over their shoulders at Eliza.
“Good babies.” She handed them cookies and patted their heads.
Rusty pooked out his lower lip.
“What’s the boo-boo lip for?” she asked.
“I want a cookie, Ma’am.”
As if she threw off a disguise, Eliza was gone and Ma’am was suddenly in the house. She hiked up her skirt and spread her legs. “You need to earn that, barbarian.”
He nearly knocked her over when he lunged for her, making her laugh as he hooked his arms around the backs of her thighs. She reached down and grabbed the back of his head for balance as his mouth latched onto her pussy and a sweet moan rolled out of her
He turned them so she could lean against the wall as he shouldered her thighs wider apart for better access. This was something else the trip had denied him for too damn long. If it was up to him, he’d start every morning eating her out and making her come. Her taste all over his face, her sweet, warm flesh in his mouth.
She was his drug, and he’d fight anyone who tried to keep him from her.
He tasted himself on her, inside her. For a moment, memories of when they were trying to get pregnant with Kailey flashed through his mind.
How they’d made love every night with Ma’am and her knight temporarily on hiatus. That had all been Rusty and Eliza, face-to-face and slow, sweet lovemaking.
In sharp contrast to the crazy, animalistic celebration they’d held the night after learning Eliza was pregnant.
She’d shaved her pussy before coming to pick him up—he didn’t feel even a trace of stubble as his lips and tongue traced every inch of her labia, around her clit, his tongue dipping inside her cunt and lapping up her juices and his own. He growled into her flesh as her hand tightened in his hair and she tried tugging him back.
He would not relinquish his cookie.
She was his cookie.
Ma’am might be in the house and in control, but the barbarian had been denied too damn long already. Unless Eliza safeworded, he wasn’t stopping. Not yet.
Not until he had her coming all over his face and was covered in her sweet juices, once again marked as Hers.
It was all he ever wanted to be.
Eliza chuckled. “Okay, baby. Go for it. I was going to let you take me to the bedroom, get naked, and give your knees a rest, but if you insist.”
He didn’t give a fuck about his knees. Her sweet, musky scent intoxicated him, made his cock throb in his slacks. Sure it was a kind of torture being clothed and having her like this, but he didn’t fucking care.
He was home.
As her clit swelled, he worked it with his tongue, teasing her, soon drawing noises from her that told him she was clearly on her way to her own orgasm. He shifted position a little, shoving her firmly against the wall as he started driving his tongue into her cunt. Swiping it along her clit with every stroke, flicking the tip of his tongue up and over it, down and inside her again, he felt her body start to tense in his hands.
Maybe he was her willing pet, but he’d been away from her too long and was feeling a little feral right now.
Needing to reclaim what was his.
Eliza would end up with fingerprint-shaped bruises on her thighs tomorrow, but she wouldn’t mind them. She never did.
Just like he didn’t mind wearing her marks.
This was all part and parcel of their gothic love story, the dark halls and wild moors and deep, passionate love that had filled their three decades together. He still saw the girl he fell in love with that afternoon, the girl who kicked his ass and who’d owned his heart and soul from that moment on.
* * * *
Yes, she was in charge, and Rus was happy to let her be in charge.
Still, it was nice when he got like this, a little demanding in good ways, still proving he wanted and needed her.
Still making her feel beautiful and sexy.
Growling? Oooh, yeah. That always made her wet. For right now she was his chew toy, and happy to be so.
That hot, skilled tongue of his, knowing her body, nothing boring or routine about their lovemaking even this many years later. He knew what worked, knew how to make her scream with need and desire, how to wring every last ounce of pleasure out of her.
It reaffirmed for her that his spirit wasn’t broken. That he willingly chose to submit to her, not because he felt he had to, but because he wanted to.
That was even more sexy than anything they did together.
Her man, this big, lovable goofball, was a deeply-layered, complex guy. She was the only person who got to see most of those layers, and she selfishly guarded and nurtured them, never taking for granted the trust he placed in her time and again.
While Rusty’s mouth drove her up the hill, she leaned back against the wall, her hands buried in his hair, now holding him pressed against her instead of trying to dislodge him. He wanted to kneel there?
Whatever her sweet barbarian wanted.
He kept her heading up, up, dips and drives, cycling through hard and swift strokes with his tongue and slow, languid circles, just to repeat the pattern.
When she hit the point between wanting to be in control and needing him to get her over, she knew he knew it. Another sexy growl rolled from him over her plaintive whines.
That almost shoved her over the edge.
Primal. She loved this about him, that he wasn’t afraid to get rough with her. She loved getting rough—giving and receiving.
It was part of everything that was so sweet and hot and right about what they had together. From those early days when they were kids and he wouldn’t let her cross that one line with him—but they’d literally do pretty much everything else—there’d always been an edge to what they did.
His teeth lightly scraped over her sensitive, swollen clit, and combined with the delicious rasp of his stubble rubbing against the insides of her thighs, it tripped her over the edge the next time he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked.
Not bothering to stay quiet, she closed her eyes and let the moans roll free from her, his happy growls in counterpoint telling her he knew where he had her, and now she was in trouble.
He practically had her balancing on the toes of one foot when he shoved his face harder against her cunt, devouring her, keeping her coming and coming all over his mouth.
There was never a more devoted pet than her sweet Knight. Never a man who took greater pleasure in giving his Lady her pleasure.
It became his pleasure, his sole need.
Even through all of this she found herself grinding against him, rocking her hips in time with his mouth, wanting it, needing all of him, wanting everything he could give her and more.
She didn’t know how long he kept her hovering in that sweet hell, the borderline of too much and not enough blurred beyond all recognition. Except she wasn’t expecting it when he grabbed her and shifted her, standing, shoving her against the wall and crashing his mouth against hers.
Automatically, her arms draped around his neck. Then she felt his hands working. He yanked her skirt down and off her, and then, and like that, his thighs shoved hers apart and his cock was sliding inside her again. She tasted her juices on his mouth and didn’t even care. They were decades past the point of any squeamishness over something like that. He reveled in painting himself with her, and she with him.
His hands settled on her ass, fingers digging in as he fucked her. Unlike the quick pressure relief of the parking garage, this was a hard, brutal fuck, every thrust slamming them against the wall and each grunt reverberating from his mouth to hers.
She was coming again before she even had a chance to realize it, his cock hitting her perfectly inside, his body out.
Another wordless, breathless grunt from him, sounding satisfied and possessive and completely, utterly gone from any coherent headspace he might normally have. Rusty pounded his cock into her, able to last a little longer due to their earlier encounter and knowing he needed this.