Safeword Quinacridone (4 page)

Cara almost laughed, but managed not to — this man was such a contradiction.

He climbed onto the bed and, throwing one leg over her, sat with his knees on either side of her ribcage and his bottom resting on her thighs, and stroked himself a few times.

His cock didn’t match the rest of his body; she’d expected long and thin, but it was of average length and bigger around than most. Not thick enough to be scary, but a very nice size.

“What do you want, Cara.”

She wrinkled her brow. “What do you think I want? I want you to fuck me!”

“Do you want it rough? Gentle? Missionary? Doggy?”

Shit, what the hell? No one asked her these kinds of questions. She wanted to screw, not talk about it. “It’s not rocket science, and I’m not picky. Less talking; more fucking.”

He raised an eyebrow, considering her a moment before tearing the condom package open and rolling it on with skill only a player would have. How was it possible someone could fumble so much to unhook a bra but manage to smooth protection on without a second thought?

He leaned to one side and lifted a knee, planting it between her legs and forcing her to spread them. His other leg joined the first and he grasped the backs of her thighs and pushed them up and out, situating her body a microsecond before abruptly leaning forward and sinking into her, opening her wide as his eyes held her gaze and dared her to look away.

He moved slowly, immediately settling into a leisurely pace — pushing into her, pulling out, pressing back in. He held her legs, directed them, controlled her body, and while not the harsh fuck she usually needed, it worked for her because he gave the impression of quite deliberately setting this particular rhythm; sending the message this was what he wanted and his wants trumped her desire for rough sex. The realization hit her like a branding iron and almost sent her into orbit.

Travis shifted his hands, pushing her legs until they touched the bed near her shoulders and bending her in half so she couldn’t pull air into her lungs. He thrust into her a few times and she pushed at him, trying to shove him away. He raised up a little with an “Is there a problem” look and she sucked in a huge breath. “I couldn’t breathe, folded up, no room for air.”

He kept his body up, but pushed his cock in and held, surveying her face and focusing on forehead, eyes, and mouth before meeting her gaze again. “If you need me to change something, say the word yellow and I’ll stop and find out what’s wrong so we can fix it. Say
stop
or
no
and I’ll pull out and everything stops, but
yellow
will make me fix the problem and continue, okay?”

“It worked to push you away and tell you I couldn’t breathe. Why do I need a word?”

He didn’t answer, just shook his head and looped her knees over his elbows before placing his hands above her shoulders. He dipped to her neck and nibbled, his teeth causing little frissons of pain. She was still bent in half but could breathe, and the position opened her to him and made her vulnerable in a way that—

Oh, fuck. He drove hard, and gained momentum as his hips slammed into her, his eyes peering into hers and daring her to think of anything besides his cock hammering her pussy. Lightning swept over her and she felt her heart might burst as she teetered on the edge of an orgasm, unable to come while he held her with his eyes.

Her breath came in short bursts as she tried to fall over the precipice, but his gaze imprisoned her. “I need, I need to... I’m so close, I need—”

“Yes Cara, come for me, let go and come on my cock. I want to feel you coming apart on my cock this time, not just my fingers.”

She sucked in a lungful of air and stopped breathing as her lower body was suddenly no longer under her control — spasming and moving and humping, her back attempting to arch but not able to with her legs trapped by his arms. Her weight pressed her shoulder blades into the mattress as she pushed her pussy closer to him and tried to get him deeper, trying for more of something,
anything
.

He released a leg and fondled her nipple briefly before running his hand down her stomach and between her thighs to her clit.

Her upper body went limp as her climax kicked into high gear and she sucked in air as the sensations overtook her. There was pain, whatever he was doing hurt, but it also felt good and she bucked against him as he arched his back, drove into her violently, and came with her — his eyes boring into hers as he emptied himself into the condom.

He took five or ten seconds to get his breath, and held the condom as he pulled out, casually walking to the bathroom to dispose of it. He strode back and stood by the bed, completely at ease with his nudity as he looked down and said, “You kicking me out now or can we talk before starting round two?”

Round two? Oh yeah, that sounded good. She motioned for him to lie down and he shook his head and reached for the armless wooden chair beside her desk, pulling it near the bed to sit in it backwards with his arms over the back and chin resting on his hands as he looked down at her.

“You like rough sex.” It didn’t sound judgmental, but a statement of fact. An observation.

Still, she made a point of frowning as she answered, “I don’t like being analyzed.”

“Deal with it. If I’m going to please you I need to know what you like, which means we need to talk about what did and did not work for you.”

She sat up and moved some pillows around, scooting up to lean against them so her face was even with his as she tried to show she could be just as comfortable with nudity.

Ah hell, she wasn’t comfortable with it. She casually shifted a pillow into her lap before reaching to tug the hairband from her destroyed ponytail, smoothing her unruly hair as best she could before pulling it into a ponytail once more.

“You want to talk? How about you explain why you can’t make dinner conversation, but become Mister Talkative who’s full of commands and telling how it’s going to be when it comes to sex? Or why you can roll a condom on like second nature but don’t seem to have encountered a woman’s bra before.”

He looked at her long enough for the silence to hang uncomfortably between them before finally saying, “Okay, I can see how that might raise questions.”

More silence, and Cara eventually said, “Are you gonna answer the questions?”

He sighed. “I don’t suppose you’d sign a non-disclosure agreement?”

“You mean something saying I won’t share what you tell me with anyone?”

He nodded.

“Do we really need to get attorney’s involved? It’s just sex.”

“What if I want it to be more than
just sex
?”

She didn’t know what to say, and the silence hung between them as they sat and looked at each other. Finally, Cara said, “I think maybe you should go.”

Travis stood and stepped into his boxer briefs before retrieving his pants. “I have a breakfast meeting tomorrow morning but should be able to get away by around 8:30 or 9:00. Would you like to take a day trip to Six Flags?” He casually tucked his shirt in before fastening his pants, as if he were used to conversation as he dressed after sex. “I promise you’ll be safe with me. I enjoy my sex a bit rough, but only if it’s consensual. You tell me to stop, and I will. Every time; no exceptions.”

Papa Bear had met him and likely made a note of his license plate number. She had his card, had checked him out online; he was probably safe. There would be the two-hour drive and conversation might be an issue but she could bring music to keep them from drowning in the silence. And while at the park they wouldn’t be talking much anyway, beyond what to ride next. A day at Six Flags was perfect.

“I’m not scheduled to work again at the NetCafe until Thursday, and I don’t have any graphic deadlines looming over my head. I’d planned to paint tomorrow but if I take my camera and get some shots for inspiration it can still be a fruitful day.”

Fully dressed and sliding his feet into his shoes, he said, “Okay then. I’ll pick you up between 8:30 and 9:30. My cell number’s on my card; if you text me I’ll have yours and can call you when I’m on the way.”

He reached for her pants and flipped them, took a second to look at the label, and set them aside. “I’ll see myself out.”

And he walked out of her room. What the hell? She stood and went to her pants, eyeing the tag to see what might have interested him. She read Old Navy, size three, and the percentage of cotton and spandex. What had he been looking for? Trying to see if she wore name brands? She didn’t pick that vibe up from him, but no one had ever bothered to look at her clothes’ tags before.

She took a quick shower, part of her wanting to keep his touch fresh on her and the rest needing to wash it off. He’d worn a condom, but his hands on her legs, his skin on her skin — she wanted to remember it and play it over and over in her head, but couldn’t bear it without a shower first.

Before climbing into bed she put her camera’s battery on the charger, picked out shorts and a clingy tee shirt, decided on a matching bra and panty set, placed everything on her desk, checked her email, and set her alarm. She masturbated to the memory of his eyes on hers as he went deliberately slow
, and fell asleep as her orgasm faded.

Chapter Four

A bright red Ferrari gleamed in the driveway when Cara opened the door the following morning. She was dressed and ready to go with sunscreen already on and her debit card, driver’s licen
se, lip balm, and some cash stuffed into the small camera bag hanging from her neck. She stepped onto the porch and eyed the car, but warm hands on her shoulders stopped her. She looked up as he leaned down, and his lips met hers as his hands shifted with one coming to rest at the small of her back as the other cradled her head, and his tongue invaded her mouth until fire flowed through her veins.

He slowly backed off, his hand sliding to the nape of her neck before dropping away, and he stepped back and looked her over from head to toe and back again as his gaze trailed a path over her blue jean shorts and pink burnout tee over a white spaghetti-strap shirt. Her bra and panty set were flesh toned and she didn’t think the bra showed through the burnout, but his conspicuous inspection made her want to self-consciously double check.

“You look like a breath of fresh air,” he said, eyes sparkling in the morning sunshine. “Like maybe you had some sort of stress relieving activity last night.”

She laughed, happy he didn’t start by complaining she hadn’t texted him. “You look pretty relaxed, too.”

He walked her to the car and she inserted herself into the passenger seat, not expecting it to be so low to the ground. He bent in to fasten her seatbelt before strolling to the driver’s side, sliding in and starting it with one smooth, fluid motion. The deep rumbling vibrations of the engine rolled through not just her feet and bottom, but also her stomach and liver and kidneys and even her eyeballs. It wasn’t a bad feeling, but different. Intense.

He leaned towards her and gave her a quick peck on the lips before he slowly backed out — not gunning the engine to make a big deal of the muscle obviously available to him in this car, but controlling the power as he’d done in bed the night before. Damn, that was sexy.

He pushed the button to switch into a forward gear and pointed to a folder wedged between the seat and console. “Since you figured me out, I made a list of things for us to discuss today. Go through the list and talk about whatever strikes your fancy. I’ll share anything you want from the discussion ideas.”

Intrigued, she pulled it into her lap.
Where did you go to high school, college? Did you have a good relationship with your parents while you were growing up? Now? What did/does your dad do for a living, what did/does your mom do for a living? What’s the coolest thing a grandparent ever taught you? Have you ever broken a bone?

There were more than thirty questions, and with around two hours to fill she asked what his father did for a living to get them started.

When he exited the interstate and she saw roller coasters peeking above the trees, she was shocked it’d already been two hours. However, a quick glance at the clock told her they’d only driven an hour and forty minutes, which meant he’d driven awfully fast, but it hadn’t felt like it. He hadn’t scared her a single time.

They pulled into the parking lot, where attendants pointed the line of cars towards the nearest parking spaces. He lowered his window and gave his name, and they were pointed another direction as the attendant reached for the radio at his belt. Within a half mile another employee pointed them towards an alley and moments later they rolled into a secluded parking area. By the time they exited the Ferrari, the last employee to direct their turn had caught up. They were given maps and a nice welcome, and shown to a gate where they entered the park from the side. Travis casually offered a tip and thanked the woman by name.

“How’d you manage that?” Cara said, as she watched the woman walk away.