Getting Naked: A Romance of Bondage and Discipline Page 12

  Nick's jaw dropped. “Carmen; how could you?"

  "I'm sorry,” she sniffed. “I just wanted you and Morgan to have another chance. I thought if—"

  "Carmen, that's enough.” It was Morgan who cut her off. “You don't owe this man any more explanations. He doesn't deserve them.” She was looking at Nick, with as much venom as she could muster. “He's too much of a spoiled brat to appreciate what he has and what he owes you as it is."

  "Morgan you can't talk to me that way."

  "Can't I? But you've got it coming. Carmen took a huge chance to do this tonight, and I don't see the least bit of gratitude."

  "You did a lot, too,” said Carmen. “More than me."

  "I don't want any thanks,” she said curtly. “The only thing I want to hear from this man's mouth is goodbye."

  Morgan whirled on her heels, hiding her tears. She would not show this man any more emotion. She would not give him anymore of herself to shred up and spit on. Not one fucking little bit.

  "Morgan, wait,” he called out after her.

  She was running now, out of the gallery, looking for the exit through tear stained eyes. He was right behind her; for god's sake why didn't he leave her alone?

  She ducked down a side hall, hoping for a side exit. The door ahead was alarmed. She turned again into a museum education room. Looking for a place to hide, she stubbed her toe on a table.

  Fuck.

  "Morgan are you in here?"

  She stifled the pain. Please, walk on past. Please, don't come in. And if you do, don't find the lights.

  "I just want to talk."

  Morgan aimed to sneak right past him in the dark room and back out into dimly lit corridor. Holding her breath, she went on tiptoe.

  "Got you."

  She screamed as he snatched her off her feet from behind. “Let go of me, I'll kick your balls off."

  His hand was around her waist. “Just calm down, I have something to say to you."

  "I don't want to hear it, you bastard!"

  Nick spun her about, trying a different tack. Before she could mount a sufficient defense, he was on her lips, kissing hard.

  She moaned in protest as he bent her back, forcing her to lean into his hand. He was making her submit, making her bow and open her body in reply to his measured assault on her senses.

  "That's not ... fair,” she gasped, wriggling free her mouth for just a second. “You can't use sex."

  "This isn't sex. Yet."

  "And it's not going to be, because I'll scream rape first."

  "You have to not want it for it to be rape. Is that true for you? Do you not want it?"

  His one hand was on her back, the other on her ass. His eyes smoldering and his mouth puckered in readiness to go anywhere and everywhere.

  "Just say it, Nick. Say what you want. Do what you want then let me go. I can't fight you anymore. Not like this. You've won another battle. Take me, fuck me, and then walk out again. Just please, this time, let it be for good?"

  He breathed in her neck. “God, Morgan, I can't bear to be without you, it's driving me crazy. But I can't be with you either. I'm so confused."

  "I can't be your conscience, Nick. That is one thing you must do on your own."

  "My conscience is for shit.” He lifted her back up and set her on the edge of the table. Next thing she knew, she was being stripped of hose, shoes and panties.

  "When I'm around you, I can't make my brain work right, Morgan."

  She was working on his zipper. “I don't want it to go right, I just want you to be yourself."

  "I don't know who I am. Can't you see that's my problem?"

  She had his cock out, between her hungry, nimble fingers. “Not really. You're the most directed, forceful man I've ever known."

  "Not with my own life. Look what it took to get my art out there. The two of you had to do it for me. What kind of man does that make me?"

  "The human kind who needs help from other people from time to time to be his best?"

  "It's not that simple,” he insisted as she guided his cock between her legs.

  "Tell me this isn't simple,” she squeezed him with her pussy muscles. “Tell me it doesn't make sense, fucking me."

  He grabbed her breasts, thrusting deep at the same time. “This does,” he exclaimed. “It always has. But doesn't that scare you?"

  "Why?” She wrapped her hands around his neck, never wanting to let go. “It's totally real and natural."

  "We can get hurt. People in love fail each other. Kill each other. Look what I have done to you already."

  "That's only because you are fighting it so hard."

  Their chests were together, hearts beating as one. The clothes between them did nothing to separate.

  "You're so incredible,” he whispered. “Why did you do all this ... for me?"

  "Do you really have to ask?"

  He held her hips, helping her to move with him, hot, desirous and totally in sync. “No,” he groaned. “I know the answer."

  "The ball is in your court, then. Pardon the pun.” She wiggled, letting him know just what balls and what court she meant. “It's up to you, to tell me why you do what you do with me."

  "I can't say it in just a few words,” he insisted, continuing to fuck her. “I'd have to lay it all out. Mess that it is. I know I can't think straight without you. I know I feel sad and lonely and empty when you're gone, which is all the time. I know I'd die a thousand deaths before I saw you hurt. I know I'd give up all I had for your happiness. And I know my life will never mean anything without you."

  "That's a pretty good start,” she panted.

  "But there's other parts to it,” he grimaced. “I can't picture marriage, or settling down. I'd just hurt you."

  "Why do we have to settle down?” she clamped his ass, “when we can travel together again? Your pictures, my doctoring."

  "You need better, Morgan."

  "I don't want better. I want you."

  His breathing was as fast as hers; they were in the midst of bliss, on the brink of completion. How incredibly they read each other now, almost like they'd been doing this for decades. A dance, a well-worn carnal choreography. If only it could all be this simple.

  "Morgan,” he cried into her ear, his hot moist breath blowing life into her soul. “I can't hold out..."

  "Don't,” she swelled to meet him. “Please, don't.” Her body clamored against him, their skins wanting underneath each other, their sexes wanting total connection and melding.

  It was a thundering explosion, a flash of inner lightning. She had to cling to him for dear life. He held her tight against him, skyrocketing with her and plummeting back down, down over the edge, plunging toward chaos, sweet nothingness and oblivion.

  "You are so ... incredible,” he said. “Did I tell you that?"

  "You might have.” She'd lost track herself. “But it never hurts to hear it again."

  He ran his hand through his hair. “Are you okay? That got pretty intense."

  She laughed. “I'm more than okay, Nick, I'm better than I've been in my whole life."

  "I wish I knew what to say, Morgan.” His voice was cracking.

  Morgan grabbed him tight, determined not to have anymore hit and run sessions with the man. “I know what you will not be saying, Nick Tremaine, and that is goodbye."

  "I don't want to let you go,” he admitted. “God help me, I don't."

  "So stop making it sound like a crime,” she chided. “And just own up to it."

  "But I mean I really don't want to let you go, Morgan. You have no idea,” he exclaimed.

  Her heart was racing again. Was he thinking what she thought he was? “Try me."

  "I mean that if I stuck around any longer I would have to ask you to marry me."

  She locked her legs behind his ass. “Consider yourself stuck,” she challenged. “Ask away."

  "Would you?” Whispered his shadow, timid, hopeful, a totally different side of the man than she'd ever known.

/>   "In a heartbeat,” she replied.

  "And ... and you're serious about this?"

  She punched his arm playfully. “No. I'm making a sick joke, just for the hell of it. What do you think, you big nut?"

  "I think ... I think,” he choked. “That I am the luckiest man on the face of the earth."

  She melted like butter, the little bit of her that had just now managed to reform. “Works out well,” she hugged tight. “Because I am the luckiest woman."

  "You realize,” he said a bit later, when they'd straightened their clothes and fixed themselves up in readiness to go back out, “that this makes no logical sense ... us."

  "That's how I know it's right,” she adjusted his bowtie, giving him a final, wet little kiss.

  "Baby,” he crooned, close enough to taste, “you look so good to me right now."

  "I'm sure it's nothing compared to how good you look to me,” she countered.

  They'd put the lights on by now and she was just so hard pressed not to put him up on that table and fuck him all over again. In fact, why the hell not?

  "Lock the door, Nick. I think it's time to work out the details of our marriage."

  "This sounds serious,” he leered.

  "Oh, it is,” she pulled her dress over her head. “In fact, I will want a contract ... with a lot of clauses."

  He pulled her close, in nothing but her bra. “Be careful,” he warned, his cock already hardening again against her. “I drive a hard bargain."

  "Oh, I sincerely hope so,” she trailed her fingers over his manhood. “I sincerely do."

  Five minutes later, Morgan was naked on the table, splayed as any patient ready for an operation. Though she was very much the patient as her man loomed over her, urging her to arch her back, to offer up her succulent breasts, her swollen nipples, her tremoring belly and fragrant pussy.

  His cock was ready, as it always would be, harder each time than the last and never tiring of its acts of possession. Nick smiled at her as he lowered himself, indicating this was not just sex, but love, just as it had been all along. He'd been too stubborn and hard, but then that was his way, one of the things she loved most about him.

  "Oh, baby,” she sighed as he slid himself home. “Oh, my baby."

  He let her embrace him, enjoying a warm, soft moment of beating hearts, male and female oneness. All too soon, they both knew, it would begin again.

  In earnest. The dance of life, the eternal search for beauty. No cameras now, this was life, real life. Their life. Together.

  * * * *

  Nick and Morgan emerged, one after the other from the small airplane. It had been a bit of a rough flight over the mountains, but it was worth it to see the beauty of this Mexican valley, with its tall, sage, dusty rose and pink and purple, and its blue sky, pure as a painting.

  Carmen called out to them from behind the barricade, looking radiant in her peasant dress, a flower tucked behind her ear. Her young man, Pablo was with her. A student in the local university, he was going to be a lawyer to help the campesinos, the poor peasants who lived in the area.

  Morgan hugged her while Nick and Pablo shook hands. The introductions were warm and sweet. Morgan showed off her wedding band, simple gold, a practical durable ten carat at her own insistence, while Carmen revealed a surprise of her own. A lovely engagement ring with a blue sapphire.

  "It belonged to Pablo's mother before her death,” explained the radiant young woman.

  "She has honored me beyond my dreams,” said Pablo intently, “by accepting it."

  "You got that right,” said Nick. “And you better do right by her, too."

  Morgan elbowed him. “Nick, you're not her father, for heaven's sake."

  He shrugged. “I can't help it. Force of habit."

  "It's all right,” said Pablo. “If he cares so much for my Carmen to be hard with me, than I know he is a good man. I would expect no less."

  "See?” said Nick pointedly. “This is a matter for men to work out. And we are handling it just fine."

  Morgan took Carmen's arm. “Yes,” she rolled her eyes. “I'm sure you men will solve all the world's problems while Carmen and I tend to some girl talk."

  There was much to discuss. Carmen had a wedding soon and Morgan would be beginning her residency in crisis medicine. After that she had plans to come right here to Mexico to work in a clinic. Nick had already chewed her ear off in the plane, talking about a million things to take pictures of.

  That was fine, so long as he kept the erotic photographing to her. He had no problem with that. Especially with Merilee doing such a fine job managing his studio for him. Who would have thought she'd have such a knack for organization. Then again, you couldn't stereotype people, not even blondes.

  Except for Nick, she'd pegged him from the beginning. Handsome, arrogant, full of passion and totally unreasonable when it came to most issues. And if you tried to change a thing about him now, you'd have to do so over her dead body.

  Nick felt the same about her and he never failed to wake up each morning full of wonder that such an angel had fallen into his life. All those years trying to take a picture of the perfect woman, and one had fallen into his lap for real. It was a tossup between looking at her, taking pictures of her and just flat out making love to her. All three were delights and each had their place.

  In the end, it was the sex, though, that bound them. That was what had first drawn him, the minute he'd seen that body, knowing what lay behind it in her heart. He had to have her and now he did, every day all day and every night in his bed, naked, sweat soaked, limbs twisted in the sheets, soft moans of female joy like music to his ears, his lips on her breasts, his hands cradling her back, his cock plumbing her depths over and over.

  From beginning to end, his love, his beauty, his wife. His model. For everything.

  THE END

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