Not My Type (12 page)

"What are you thinking about?" Joe's
voice interrupted her thoughts.

Her own voice was muffled by her
hands. "I should have been more aggressive about telling him to
shove off." She looked up at where he leaned against the doorway of
their bedroom. Seeing him there, she was as always struck by his
male beauty. He had his boots off, but his jeans and t-shirt were
still clinging to his every muscle. Arms crossed, he regarded her
with those chocolate eyes, his chiseled jaw clenched with the
fervor of his emotions. "I should have never agreed to have drinks
with them."

"No. It wasn't your fault. That was
all me. Martha's right, as much as I hate to admit it. I can't kill
everyone who wants you, too."

She got up from the bed and came
closer, laying both hands gently on his biceps. He smiled, but the
torment didn't leave his eyes. He opened his arms, drawing her into
his embrace. They stood that way for long minutes, her head resting
on his chest and his chin resting on her head. His strong arms
surrounded her with their comforting security. Yes, maybe she'd
been guilty of enjoying another man's attention, but this was the
man who made her feel safe and exhilirated at the same time, who
made her blood boil but also soothed her. An idea began to form as
they cuddled in the doorway, slowly at first and then bursting over
her with an epiphany of thought.

She pulled back slightly to look up at
him. She kissed his full lips gently, once, twice, feeling him
start to respond. She pulled away again and breathed, "I've been
bad, haven't I? Don't you think I should be...punished?"

His eyes lost the troubled emotion and
gained a new fire. He held himself in check, though. He was still
upset, and didn't think it was a good time to engage in any type of
kinky play. He worried he would take out his feelings on her flesh,
worried she wasn't strong enough anymore to take what he was
capable of dishing out. But Elsa wasn't taking no for an answer
this time.

"Do you think I encouraged him? Why
wouldn't you spank me for that behavior?" She ran a finger down his
chest. He caught it, placing it between his teeth gently. She
leaned in, her breath mingling with his. "Maybe you should whip me
instead," she whispered. "You know you want to..."

That was the hell of it.
He
did
want to.
Part of him did think she had encouraged the photographer's
attention, or at least hadn't stopped him. Rationally, he knew that
wasn't the case. He knew Elsa was inexperienced with men, other
than him. He warred with himself, struggling with his urge to
protect her and his urge to spank the daylights out of her followed
by a fucking that would ensure she never forgot who she belonged
to.

Elsa saw the internal conflict on his
handsome face and pushed him over the edge. "I'll use the safe word
if it's too much...please, Joe, it's been so long since we've
played."

That was all it took. She felt the
change instantly and snatched her finger away before he could bite
her. He grabbed her by the upper arms and marched her backward to
the bed. "Strip," he commanded. She did so quickly, watching with
satisfaction and anticipation from the corner of her eye as he
removed his clothes, too. His perfect body gleamed in the mellow
light of their bedroom and she shivered with fear and
excitement.

He went to the closet, gazed at the
contents, then turned to her empty handed. She was puzzled but said
nothing. He stalked back to her, looking down at her quivering
breasts and slightly breathless body. She kept her eyes lowered,
being a good girl. For now.

Without warning, he pushed her to the
bed and down to the mattress on her stomach. With a knee in her
back to hold her down, his massive hand came down across her ass
with a resounding smack. It stung like fire and she squealed in
surprise; he'd struck her much harder than usual. Another hard
whack across her buttocks had her struggling to free herself and by
the tenth blow, she was crying into the blankets. But she didn't
say anything and neither did Joe. He ran his hand gently over her
reddened cheeks, dipping his middle finger down the cleft of her
womanhood and caressing her inner folds. She was ready for him, but
he wasn't done punishing her yet.

He waited for her tears to subside
into sniffles, sitting on the edge of the bed next to her prone
form. Then, he commanded, "Stand up."

She stood, eyes red and swollen to
match her rear end. She kept her gaze down to the floor, not daring
to look at him. His voice startled her, loud and commanding. It
made her feel weak with desire.

"Lay yourself across my lap for
another spanking."

Another spanking like the last one?
Her cheeks clenched in anticipation of added pain. Was he trying to
break her? Trying to make her use the safe word? Be damned if she
would! Obediently, she walked to him and lay herself across his
thighs, face down. She had thoughtfully made sure her ass was to
his right so he could use his dominant hand. Then she waited for
the pain to come.

He drew out the moment, knowing she
was expecting more pain. He didn't disappoint her. The first swat
had some heat on it and she yelped; the second was much harder and
she burst into tears once again. Eight more heavy blows landed
across her sore bottom, but she bit her lip and endured, letting
the tears fall where they may. Joe picked her up when he was done
and lay her back on the bed, carefully, so as not to hurt her sore
rear. He lay down beside her and wiped her tears away. It wasn't
the first time he'd made her cry in their bedroom games; it was a
release for them both.

When she was calm, he let his hands do
something less painful, carressing and tweaking and exploring every
inch of her skin. His skilled fingers teased her nipples into stiff
peaks, brought her nearly to orgasm again and again, only to dance
away to some other terrain of her body. She cried out in
frustration, trying to climb on top of him and slake her passion
with his body, but he held her down easily and continued his
torment.

When she thought she might lose her
mind, when she was oh so close to using the safeword, he finally
rose above her and settled between her wide spread thighs. She
moaned in gratitude, arching her hips up to try in vain to connect
her aching need with his hard shaft. He held himself too far for
her to achieve her goal, and she gritted her teeth with
frustration. Finally, through the haze of denied passion fogging
her brain, she heard him saying her name. "Elsa. Look at me.
Elsa!"

She opened her eyes and looked. His
fierce look blazed above her with the heat of the sun. "You are
mine, Elsa. Do you understand? No man will ever touch you this way.
Do you hear me?" he demanded.

She nodded and tried to wrap her legs
around his waist. His legs held hers down. "There will never be any
doubt again, will there? WILL THERE? Answer me!"

"No! Only you, forever! Please...!"
she begged.

He surged into her with no teasing or
preamble, burying himself completely inside and making her cry out
in pain. She was ready for him, but he could hurt her if he wanted
to. And he did. He would batter her with his body and claim her
with every fiber of his being. There would be no doubt, ever
again.

He pounded in and out of her, bruising
her thighs, crushing her hands in his own. She welcomed the pain,
taking pleasure when he pulled out and bracing herself for the
agony when he pierced her again and again. She came, over and over,
and still he did not relent. She cried again, tears of both pain
and joy mingled together; she'd been wanting this so badly, to be
claimed, to belong to him again, in this way. It hurt so much; she
loved every second. The assault went on and on, never stopping, Joe
pushing himself in and out like a piston, hard, fast, and
merciless. Her body screamed for a halt to the battering of his
body, her insides soft and yielding while she writhed beneath him.
She cried out to him to stop, the safeword was on the tip of her
tongue, but he didn't stop, and she didn't use the safeword, some
part of her knowing that, if she did, things between them would
never be the same.

She endured to the very end when
finally, with a particularly forceful pump of his hips that wrested
another agonized cry from her lips, he came into her with all the
force of a powerful tidal wave, his own cries mingling with hers
until he collapsed, finally, his head on the pillows next to her
and his maleness still sheathed inside her. The only sound in the
quiet bedroom was their stentorian breathing, Elsa's each
exhalation ending with a small whimpering sound.

It was this pathetic noise that got
through to Joe. He lifted his head from the pillows next to her and
saw her eyes were clenched shut, tears leaking from the corners. He
pushed himself up, balancing on his clenched fists to gaze down at
her in alarm. His movement made her cry out.

"Oh my god...Elsa? Baby, are you
okay?"

She nodded but didn't open her eyes.
She didn't say anything.

"Honey? Talk to me. What's wrong,
where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere," she whispered, her voice
raw.

"Oh, fuck. Hold on, baby, hold
on!"

Joe was completely soft now, fear
erasing his lingering passion, making it easier for him to pull out
of her. Nonetheless, she moaned loudly, in pain not pleasure, at
his withdrawal and curled immediately into the fetal position on
her side, facing away from him. He saw the bruises on her thighs,
on her ass, and on her wrists where he'd held her down and was
horrified.

This. This was exactly what he'd been
afraid of. That he would hurt her during their games. And tonight,
when he was already mad...he should have known better, shouldn't
have given in, should have controlled himself better rather than
letting his anger punish her. What the fuck was wrong with
him?

"Elsa, baby...I'm so sorry, so fucking
sorry," he whispered.

"It's...not your fault...I'm okay,
really..." she said, painfully, haltingly. "Just give me a
minute..."

"You're not fine, Else...you're
bruised and...do you think...are you bleeding?"

"I don't think so."

"Let me look, can you do that? Can you
move your legs a little bit? I just want to see how bad it
is."

She moved onto her back slowly, every
part of her body sore and hurting. When they had been in the middle
of it, she knew it hurt but she'd liked it. Now, in the aftermath,
it was miserable. She spread her legs slightly, feeling as though
she'd been ripped in half.

Joe saw blood on her thighs and his
face drained of color. "Jesus. Baby, you're bleeding. I'm taking
you to the hospital. Right now."

"No! No, don't worry about it. I'm
fine, really! Joe, come lay with me. Hold me, please?"

"Are you serious, woman? You're
fucking bleeding internally. And I'm the asshole who did it to you!
Fuck! What the hell was I thinking?"

Elsa saw any future fun and games in
the bedroom slipping away from her. She knew she probably shouldn't
have provoked him into it when he was pissed about the thing with
Alex, but it had been so long, and she'd felt good to be punished
for the photographer debacle. It erased the guilt and shame she had
felt. In fact she had enjoyed their whole night in the bedroom up
until the last tortured minutes. She couldn't let him take this
occasion and use it to withhold something they both
needed.

Painfully, she sat up, ignoring the
wave of dizzyness that came over her. She took both his hands in
hers.

"Joe! Listen to me. Are you
listening?"

His haunted eyes said no, but he
nodded anyway.

"I
wanted
you to do all that stuff to
me. I
love
it
when you spank me, or use the stuff in the closet on me, or even
fuck me really hard like you did. It makes me feel...like I don't
have to be in control, but at the same time, I really am. Because
I'm the one with the safeword, Joe. And I didn't use it, did
I?"

He shook his head. "You should have.
Why didn't you? This means I can't trust you to know your own
limits. If you won't stop yourself, how can you stop
me?"

She groaned in frustration.
"Joe! You're not hearing me! I
LIKED
what you were doing! Hell, I
loved it!"

He was still shaking his head. "No,
babe. We can't do this anymore. Now, we need to get dressed and go
make sure I didn't break anything. Then, we can talk about what to
do next."

"What do you mean, 'What to do next'?"
Elsa said, panicking at the finality in his tone. "What
next?"

"I mean, what we should do about our
relationship." With that, he got off the bed and tossed her clothes
on the mattress next to her. He grabbed his jeans and t-shirt and
left the room, Elsa still lying on the bed naked and bruised. Yet
it was her insides that ran cold and felt broken at his
words.

Chapter Thirteen: The
Talk

The doctor on call, a young woman
she'd never met, insisted on speaking with Elsa privately,
concerned she was a battered woman. Elsa put her at ease and
explained their bedroom games were somewhat unorthodox. Tonight
they'd just gotten carried away, she told the doctor. Then she
burst into tears. She managed to choke out a few words about how
they were going to break up and it was all her fault to the
bewildered doctor.