Obsessive Compulsion (13 page)

“You talk like tonight is over.” Her eyes
darken as her fingers around my wrist tighten ever so slightly. “We
can go as slow as you need, but we’re still pushing your boundaries
tonight. Even if it’s just talking, I’m not letting you off my hook
that easily, Mr. Rider.”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the least, Miss
McLeod. Please, push away,” I challenge her and myself at the same
time.

“Alright,” she tilts her head and looks up
for a moment in thought, then meets my gaze again. “Explain the
touching, please. Is it because of germs?”

Right into the beast’s heart. “No. I don’t
have mysophobia like many OCD patients. If you catch me washing my
hands over and over, it’s because my brain says I haven’t washed
them properly yet, not because I don’t think they’re clean. I like
cleanliness probably a bit more than the average person, granted,
but I’m not afraid you’re going to kill me if you sneeze in the
same room I’m in.”

That gets her to laugh and I join her with a
light chuckle. Really? What can you do but laugh when your entire
world is so seriously messed up that you’re happy mysophobia isn’t
a problem?

“Okay, then why?” she asks as our laughter
dies down.

“Sensory overload.” I think it’s probably
the easiest way to explain it. “I don’t know why skin to skin makes
a difference to my brain. It just does.”

“Oh, okay,” she nods. “Emma has a similar
problem. With her, it’s more sounds and visual stimuli, but I get
it. When someone touches you, skin to skin, your nerves go crazy
and it fires all your neurons in your brain at once. I read a paper
by some autism specialist that tried to explain it, but when he
went into pictures of the brain it all kina went over my head.”

Love is such an inadequate word for what I’m
feeling right now. “I guess you’ve read up, trying to better get
what Emma goes through?”

“Of course,” she shrugs, like anyone would
take the time to do so. “Soon as they labeled her as a possible
autistic, I read whatever I could find.” She stops, bites her
bottom lip then lets out a soft breath. “I’ve been reading a little
bit about OCD, too. I’m not trying to be your therapists or nose
into it, but,”

Her words disappear as I raise up to kiss
her. I kiss her, over and over, and not because I’m counting or
trying to perfect the way our lips come together. I kiss her over
and over because it
is
perfect, every single time.

Her lips follow mine as I lay my head back
against the mattress, my tongue suggestively darting into the
warmth of her mouth. My brain has switched off, and I’m taking
every second of this freedom I can to show her how much I want her.
How much I need her. How much I love her.

The mattress creaks with shifting weight. A
pressure straddles my hips. My hand twitches under her binding
grasp, but I keep breathing her kisses in, demanding more.

Suddenly, she’s pulling away and I’m
groaning at the loss as she struggles to regain the air I was
taking. My jaw tightens, but I force it to stop. “It’s okay,
Charlie. I’m okay.”

She shakes her head, fiery waves reflecting
the moonlight. “I don’t want to push you too fast.”

“Remember our word,” I remind her. “Please,
Charlie. I
need
you to keep pushing.” I don’t want to give
my brain time to turn back on. My heart is overriding everything
right now, and I have to follow it. “I need you.”

Her eyes widen and I know she’s read the
real meaning behind the words I just spoke. A hint of fear flashes
into her blue oceans, but she pushes it away. God, this woman is so
brave.

“Alright. Focus on me,” she agrees, sending
my heart into submission.

“Always,” I whisper as she leans back down
to me. We kiss with eyes open, every feathered touch shooting
fireworks into my synapses. I hold it back. I hold on. I…

Fuck
, this is intense. Must have more
of her.
Need
more of my Charlotte.

My wrist slips free and both my hands latch
onto her hips, grinding her down as I push up between her thighs.
She gasps, our lips part and I groan in pleasured agony as it
starts to become too much.

“Focus, Ian,” Charlie commands and my eyes
snap back to hers. She takes my wrists and raises both arms above
my head, never breaking eye contact. “Keep them there.”

“Yes, Char…lie,” I exhale the tension,
almost slipping up on her name. I want more than anything to simply
hear
Charlotte
whisper past my lips.

Her hair tickles my chest as she places a
kiss above my heart. My arms twitch in a want to run through her
hair, grab onto her body and drag her down against my groin again.
I want her so desperately - to be inside her, to understand what
that connection with her would feel like. The shaky movement draws
her gaze up to my hands then she looks back at me with a quiet,
chiding tsk.

“I don’t think you’re going to behave.” She
taps one finger against the spot she just kissed. “What should we
do about that?”

“Please…”
Please don’t stop.

Her fingers trail down my stomach, stopping
at my belt. After a brief pause, she unbuckles it without losing my
focus on her eyes. Sliding the belt free, she hands it to me. “Loop
it through the headboard railing and hold on to each end. The
second you let go, I will stop everything and we spend the rest of
tonight talking. Understood?”

Incredible. She’s giving me complete control
while at the same time helping me to bind my tendencies. “I think
you’ve been reading a lot, and not just about OCD.”

As I follow her instructions, she rewards me
with a sultry smile while leaning down to hover above my lips.
“You’d be very surprised what you can find in the university’s
library.”

Before I can think more on that, she leaves
the bed. I want to protest, but then she unzips the side of her
skirt and it falls to the floor. Her corset is not long in
following. The moonlight, mixed with the dim ember glow from the
sconces, highlights every curve in a warm caress as she stands in
my room wearing nothing but a pair of black lacey panties and the
latex shirt. “You’re so very beautiful, Charlie.”

“I often think the same thing about you,”
she admits, running one gloved finger up the center of my chest. “I
keep telling myself that I have to kidnap you and get you into my
studio.”

That idea, that she thinks I’m beautiful
despite all my issues, nearly implodes my heart.
I love you,
Charlie
.

Swallowing back the words I know she isn’t
ready to hear, I shrug lightly. “I wouldn’t mind letting you draw
me, though I’m not sure how long I can sit still.”

She opens one side of my vest and rubs my
nipple, causing my back to arch into her touch. “I want to draw
on
you, Ian.” Her finger leaves my nipple, then the wetness
of her tongue takes over. My hands fist the leather belt as I hold
on to the sensation. “With paint,” she whispers against the wet
skin and my whole body convulses.

“Fuck!” The explosive curse makes her snap
away from me, but I steady my reaction with a deep inhale and a
tighter grip on the belt. “I’m okay. That felt good… and I’d like
to try the paint someday.”

Her smile reappears. “Small steps, and I
think we’ll get there, eventually.”

Small steps. If these steps involve more of
what she just did to my nipple, I’m all for it. That little tease
rippled through my body in both directions, erupting in pleasure
once I came down from the overstimulation.

The tip of her tongue circles my nipple
slowly this time, sending waves of sensation with each round. After
three, she stops, and that starts to edge my focus away from her.
Three. Prime. Must… “Once more, please.”

Without questioning why, she circles it once
more then playfully nips the hard nub. I convulse, pulling the belt
hard against the metal railing, then I come down into bliss. “Thank
you, Charlie.”

“Explain.”

Her command reorients my focus. “Primes
don’t make sense in my head.” I stop there, but she doesn’t move.
She wants more from me before she’s going to give me more of this.
“I prefer evens. Multiples of four and six are my stops.”

“Thank you.” She moves up the bedside and
leans over my face, her hair spilling around me like a molten
curtain. It captivates my attention before my gaze centers on her
irises, their intense empathy becoming my safe haven.

Four, slow, open-eyed kisses are the reward
for my honesty, and each is a glimpse at perfection. Stepping away
from me again, she crouches down and digs through her bag in a much
more random fashion that my earlier, orderly search. Watching her
makes me smirk in affection. Our differences highlight our
similarities.

The smirk stumbles from my lips as she
approaches the bed again and sets a wrapped condom on the mattress
next to my hip. She watches my entire reaction, crossing her arms
behind her back and letting the idea sink in. It’s sunk in, and the
possible outcomes both frighten and exhilarate me.

“Would you like to play, Ian?”

The last time I was with a girl and it got
to the stage of a condom being put into play, we were all in
college. It had gone so horribly wrong that I had damn near taken a
vow of celibacy. I had also walked into a three-week rehab after
Victoria talked me off the ledge of the science building. That was
almost seven years ago.

I think I’m ready to try again, because
seven years ago it was a girl I liked, but not a girl I loved.
Seven years ago, the girl tried but couldn’t understand. Seven
years ago, the girl wasn’t Charlotte.

I wrap the ends of the belt once around each
hand then give one, unwavering word. “Yes.”

Yes
.

Ian’s voice is the most confident I’ve ever
heard it, and that one, powerful word hangs in the room, ringing
through the silence that settles between us. It’s a significant
step forward, and I’m gonna do my best to ensure this goes well for
him. Ignoring the condom for now, I slip my panties off, basking in
Ian’s hungry, yet beautifully blushing stare.

“The game is very simple, Ian.” I touch his
leather-clad leg just above the knee. “You’ll hold onto the belt
for as long as you can. The moment you let go, or if you speak our
special word, I’ll stop. I promise that it won’t hurt my feelings,
no matter what we might be in the middle of, but you gotta promise
you’ll stop me if you need to. Okay?”

“I promise, Charlie,” he speaks with the
same confidence, and it bolsters my own.

A small voice is saying that maybe I should
get Victoria to Assist, but everything else is loudly telling me
that this is right. It’s gotta be about me and Ian. We gotta face
our demons together, trusting each other to be honest. That tiny
voice in my head brings up my own lack of honesty.

No more, runnin’ Charlotte.

I squeeze his leg gently. “You can call me
Charlotte, if you still want to.”

Those hazel eyes go wide as his arm muscles
flex against the belt’s restraint. “I’d like that very much,
Charlotte.”

Waiting for the initial backlash from my
heart at hearing that name, I’m surprised when it doesn’t happen.
Instead, my heart skips before increasing its pace, leaving me
trying to figure out what all that means. Maybe it doesn’t have to
mean anything, even though I think it does. Ian didn’t want to
label this thing between us, so I won’t start labeling my heart’s
behavior, either.

His eyes continue to follow mine as I join
him on the bed again. Straddling his legs just above the knees, I
advance in cautious, exploratory steps, each becoming more daring
than the last. Long strokes up the outside of his thighs followed
by light brushes over his groin. The stiff mound jutting against
his leather pants sends aching want between my own thighs, my body
urging me to take what it needs.

This is as much about controlling my own
tendencies as it is about Ian holding back his. I have no problem
with being on top, setting the pace or finding my own pleasure.
This time, Ian has to come first. I don’t think I’ll be able to
find pleasure tonight unless he finds it with me.

Leaning over his chest, I move his vest
aside to expose the other nipple. The taught pectorals tremor in
anticipation and I maintain eye contact while my lips surround his
flesh. His jaw ticks, his hands tighten on the belt and he sucks in
a hissing breath.

Four. Five. Six.
I raise up and wait,
then mirror his smile once his body goes still beneath me.

“Did you just count for me?” He sounds
amazed. Such a simple thing can mean so much to the right
person.

“Whatever it takes, Ian,” I whisper against
his wet nipple then bite it.

His back arches. The moan he releases is so
full of repressed need that it almost hurts me to hear it. When he
comes back down from the sensation, the look of grateful admiration
he gives me is worth however long this is going to take. I’ll count
to four and then six a thousand times if it brings him that same
release.

With six kisses trailing from neck to belly
button, our play ventures lower. I fist the comforter in
anticipation. The air between us is heavy with it. We both want
this, but the slow pace is building a coiling tension that binds us
closer together with each second that passes.

My mouth salivates as it hovers over his
groin. The heat from each breath moistens the leather that stands
between me and what I want. I know your average guy would have no
complaints about me unzipping their pants with my teeth so I can
lick their cock, or letting me have my fun with their body.

Fuck, I want it.
All my muscles
tense, so close to the edge of losing control.

“Charlotte?”

The small worry in Ian’s voice reminds me
once again to take back that control. Ian isn’t like all those
faceless boys I’ve used to keep my bed warm and help me forget the
parts of me I don’t like. He isn’t a boy. He’s a good man who
deserves what I so desperately want to give him tonight.