Part 46 (2/2)
”You can come if you want.”
”Do you want me to?”
”You're asking my permission?”
”You're the woman. You make the s.e.x rules.”
She grinned up at him. She made the s.e.x rules? She kind of liked the sound of that.
”You can. I want you to.”
”Yes, ma'am.” He brought his mouth down to hers again and kissed her with a roughness that shocked her. She wrapped a leg around his back and pushed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s into his chest. He moaned in the back of his throat as he ground his pelvis into hers. She turned her head to give him access to her neck. The sight of his tattooed hand and forearms against the sheets made her question her ”s.e.x off the table” rule. Right now she wanted him-on the table or off.
Wyatt's breathing grew ragged as he moved against her. G.o.d, she wanted to push him onto his back right now and hold him down. She'd love to pin those tattooed forearms to the bed. She'd work her hips against him, bring him close to coming and then stop ... bring him close to coming again and then stop again.... She'd torture him like that until he begged her to let him come. And maybe if he begged enough, she'd let him.
Instead she held him as his body trembled from his own o.r.g.a.s.m before going still. He lay on top of her, barely moving, only lightly kissing her neck as he caught his breath.
”I am going to fall in love with you,” Wyatt whispered. ”Right ... now.”
He closed his eyes and she said nothing. What was there to say?
She s.h.i.+mmied out of her jeans. With him in nothing but his boxers and her in nothing but her panties and his Smas.h.i.+ng Pumpkins T-s.h.i.+rt, they spooned in his bed and slept together. She'd known S0ren for almost four years, and she'd never slept in his arms. She'd been with Wyatt five days and she'd fallen asleep in his arms and woken up still wrapped up in them. She'd felt so cherished and so wanted and so ... normal-for once-that it killed her to leave his arms and his bed. Since she was fifteen she'd felt S0ren's love for her like a blessing. That morning in Wyatt's bed was the first time loving a priest felt like a burden.
That Friday evening she went to Kingsley's like always. She and S0ren would stake out the music room and S0ren would talk to her about various aspects of S&M she needed to understand. He also made her write for him. He wanted to know what she most desired when she imagined them as lovers. Those were her favorite homework a.s.signments he'd given her-writing out s.e.xually explicit fantasies of erotic bondage and torture. She loved their Friday-night training sessions, counting down the minutes until she could be with him again. But S0ren had been in Rome for three weeks now. She came to Kingsley's tonight simply to be alone with her thoughts, her fears, her terrifying feelings for Wyatt.
Wyatt had asked her to go out with him that night, but she'd lied and said she had to work. Some sort of dinner party was happening in Kingsley's dining room. Eleanor avoided it, hiding out in the music room. She sat near the piano, hoping to feel closer to S0ren. It didn't work. From her backpack. she pulled S0ren's most recent letter to her.
My Little One, I wish you could be here with me. I strolled through the Galleria Borghese today and tried to imagine all the inappropriate remarks you would make about the statues in their various states of undress. It's a special kind of torture to be without you among great beauty. I've seen the statues before and marveled at them. What I missed today was seeing you seeing them. This city is old and tired, but it would become young again in your eyes. I don't know if we could ever come to Rome together, although I dream of such a day. I have friends here. I seem to b.u.mp into them wherever I go. The city is crawling with priests. After a feast day, sometimes literally.
I hope your cla.s.ses are going well. I'm sorry I had to be gone so long. I think of you every day, every night. I hope you aren't too lonely and that Kingsley is behaving himself in my absence.
I pa.s.sed some graffiti today I knew you'd find amusing-cloro al clero. You see it painted near Vatican City. It means ”poison the clergy” but please don't let it give you any ideas.
My trip here has been successful. I left you as Rev. Marcus Stearns, SJ. I'll return to you Rev. Dr. Marcus Stearns, SJ. You are under orders never to call me Reverend, Doctor or Marcus. You may call me Father Stearns at church, Sir in your collar and S0ren when I'm inside you.
I'm spending the evening with several Jesuits I went to seminary with. I should go now. Soon I'll be home to you. Home, in case you were wondering, is not Denmark nor New York nor Wakefield nor any city, state or country. I'm home when I'm with you.
Jeg elsker dig. (Yes, I know how much it turns you on when I speak Danish.) The letter was signed with an ornate S with a slash through it, S0ren's private signature. As she looked up from the letter she saw Kingsley watching from the doorway to the music room.
”What's his name, Elle?” Kingsley asked from the doorway.
”Who?”
Kingsley walked over to her and pulled the collar of her s.h.i.+rt down. She knew he touched the slight red mark Wyatt had left on her chest from last night's kisses.
”Tell me everything right now.”
”Kingsley, I'm in trouble.”
”Pregnant?”
”Worse.”
”What's worse than pregnant?”
She brushed tears off her face with the back of her hand and took a deep breath.
”I think I'm in love.”
28.
Eleanor KINGSLEY TOOK THE NEWS BETTER THAN SHE EXPECTED. He listened and asked no questions, not even when she finished her tale.
”He's in love with me, King. I never expected anyone other than S0ren would ever fall in love with me. He must be a m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t,” Eleanor said with a grim and mirthless laugh. ”I guess anyone in love with me would have to be a m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t.”
Kingsley laughed behind his tumbler of Scotch.
”You said it, not me. But I doubt he is one. Or even a submissive.”
”Then why does he want to do everything I tell him to do?”
”Because he is a vanilla teenage boy desperate to please, desperate to keep you. A male submissive submits out of desire, not desperation. And a man in love with a woman in love with another man is the secondmost desperate creature on earth.”
”What's the first?”
”A man in love with a man in love with another woman.”
Eleanor laughed. Kingsley didn't.
”I didn't know I could feel this way. It's not like I love S0ren any less. I feel like I have this second heart I didn't know was there until I met Wyatt. I didn't know you could do that, could care about two people that much at the same time.”
”Welcome to polyamory.” Kingsley sat his drink down.
”Polyamory?”
”Poly means multi. Amory means love. It's common in our world, having more than one lover. I don't mean lover in the s.e.xual sense alone. I mean loving two people.”
”Sounds like a nightmare.”
”Wasn't it Oscar Wilde who said there were two great tragedies in life-getting what you want and not getting what you want? Polyamory is the tragedy of getting everything you want all at the same time. Still, anything's better than monogamy, oui?”
”I feel ... horrible.” She buried her face in her hands before looking up to stare at the piano. ”But I can't stop. Every day I tell myself, 'Okay, I'll break it off with Wyatt today.' And every day, I don't. We fooled around last night. We slept together, even. I've never done that with any guy before-slept in the same bed. No s.e.x, but I wanted to. I wanted to tie Wyatt down and make him beg for it....” She exhaled through her nose. ”s.h.i.+t, did I say that out loud?”
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