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"All right. Out with it, Page." Marci speared the last bit of avocado on her plate and pointed her fork at Karen. "Something's bugging you."
"I'm fine," Karen said, taking a sip of the mimosa she’d barely touched. It was too bad. Her monthly Sunday brunch with Marci had become one of her favorite things, and she wasn’t even enjoying it.
Marci looked at her, chewing thoughtfully. Karen had gotten very familiar with that look since Marci started chipping in to get Nelson, Murdock & Page up and running, and Karen realized her initial impression of Marci the shark wasn’t all that accurate. Either Marci had mellowed or Karen’s teeth had gotten sharper, but they were pretty solid friends now.
And Karen knew Marci wasn’t going to back down.
Karen sighed. “I was working late this week and Matt came in wearing—" She cut herself off before she could say wearing the mask. "Well, he looked really good."
And he did. That black mask had featured in so many of her dreams that she thought for a moment that she'd fallen asleep at the conference room table. But when she blinked slowly, it was all still there, the files spread beside her computer, the washed-out light of her laptop screen, and Matt breathing hard in the near-darkness. Foggy had turned off the lights out of habit when he left, and she'd been too engrossed in her typing to bother turning them back on.
"Are you OK?" she asked Matt, getting up from her chair to stand in front of him.
"No," he said. But he didn't look like he was gushing blood or in desperate need of an ambulance. She couldn't imagine any other reason he would admit he was less than fine.
As her eyes scanned his body, looking for less obvious injuries, he raised his hands to her face. He wasn’t wearing his gloves. She took in a shaky breath as the warmth of his fingers soaked into her cheeks.
"Karen," he choked out, and she felt the pull of him like a black hole. She leaned in, let his lips meet hers, and she kissed him back like this was the only chance she’d ever get. His hand closed around her throat, her pulse pumping under his thumb, and lust exploded through her body like stars.
He kept the mask on the whole time, when they were kissing, when he was frantically pushing her clothing aside to get to skin, when he was laying her out on the table and licking and sucking and fucking her with his fingers until her voice was strained from crying out.
But before she could get her hands on him again, before she could find out what he felt like in her mouth, inside her, he was muttering something and disappearing into the night, leaving her blissful and yet unsatisfied.
"Karen, I'm going to take the total zone-out that you just did as confirmation that something happened,” Marci said with amusement. “Just tell me."
"He...he wentdownonmeontheconferenceroomtable," she mumbled, unable to stop herself from turning pink at the memory. "Best orgasms — plural — of my life. But then he acted like nothing happened the next day."
It was infuriating — Matt wearing his glasses and tie and cane like armor against her. She’d hinted, trying to bring it up, to talk it over. And she thought at first he was playing dumb as a tease, their old routine, but there was no big smile, no murmured confession of “It was great.” Instead, he stayed blank until he "suddenly" remembered he was late for a client meeting and then left her there, cold.
He was back to his usual sweet self with her after that — he even brought her coffee the next afternoon, right at the moment she was thinking she could really use a cup — but still there was no acknowledgement of what he’d done in the mask.
Karen shrugged. "I guess he doesn't really want..." she said, drifting off as the sadness consumed her again.
"I don't think that's it," Marci said.
"Then what is it?" Karen searched for a reason to hope in Marci's eyes.
“Look,” Marci began, stirring the ice in her water glass with her straw, “I think...well, I know the kind of girl Matt went for in college. And you’re not his type.”
Karen’s mouth popped open in indignation.
“Don’t look like that. Trust me, that’s not a bad thing.” Marci raised her eyebrows dramatically to emphasize the point. “Matt falling in love with someone this good for him is...kind of shocking, really.”
Karen looked down at the table — was he in love with her?
“But I think he’s scared you can’t take the full Murdock monte,” Marci continued. “He’s too afraid to let his freak flag fly.”
Karen’s gaze darted back up at that. “But why?” she said, shaking her head. “I'm not—judgmental. Not in that way.”
"He’s so careful with you. I think he’s got this idea that you like to be treated like you’re—I don’t know, innocent or something."
Karen flushed. Marci's words cut close to the bone. She'd told him that, hadn't she? But she didn't mean—
"That's the sense I get," Marci said. "I could be wrong."
Karen's mind was racing. Maybe Matt had taken what she said too much to heart. Maybe he was still afraid of baring all of himself to her, and it was only while hiding behind the mask that he could give in to desire.
And maybe the whole reason he was struggling over this was because he didn't want her to think all her revelations had changed the way he felt about her.
Fuck. She might love that poor, confused bastard even more now.
"How do I change his mind, if he won't even talk to me about it?" she asked.
"You have to show him." Marci signaled for the check. "And I know how."
The place Marci took her to was classier than any sex shop Karen had ever seen.
“You can’t be serious,” Karen said, when she realized what they were doing.
“I’ve never been more serious in my life,” Marci answered.
Karen’s eyes went wide when Marci stopped in front of a display full of strap-on harnesses — leather, cotton, spandex. It wasn’t that she was shocked by the idea of being in a sex shop and looking at the...merchandise. But she hadn’t been expecting any of this when she left her apartment for brunch this morning. She wasn’t expecting to even tell Marci about her problem, let alone be here.
“What the hell?” is what she said out loud.
“You need one of these,” Marci said. “The sturdier the better. Definitely leather.”
She pulled a red leather version down and held it out toward Karen. “Want to try it on?”
“No,” Karen said firmly. “And I don’t actually need it.”
“You do,” Marci said. “And start thinking of what you like best over there, too.” She pointed toward the section with artfully arranged dildos of all shapes and sizes. Karen blinked.
“Karen. Honey. I know what I’m talking about.”
“How? How do you know?”
“Fine.” Marci put the strap back on the shelf and turned to look Karen straight in the eye. “I didn’t want to get into...other people. But I will. I have a sorority sister who hooked up with Matt several times over the years. We all knew she was kinda into the dom thing, and she’d spill the details after drinking too many margaritas. So I’ve known for a long time. She said he was her favorite. For this.”
Marci gestured back to the wall.
“And I’m not going to say the E name,” she continued with a significant look. “But there was a definite vibe there.”
Karen just stared, her thoughts running blank.
“Think of it as...an incentive to get beyond the fear. You give him the opportunity to trust you. He might never get there by himself.”
Karen shook her head. “I don’t know…”
“I guess you just have to decide if you have the balls to do it.”
Karen paced back and forth nervously in her apartment.
She'd been feeling pretty confident when she left the office earlier, stopping for just a moment to lean over Matt's shoulder. "Come over tonight," she whispered, hot against his ear. Her voice hadn't wavered at all, and the way he drew in his breath made her think he'd show up.
But it was well into the wee hours now, and still no sign of him. Maybe something had happened… She kept pacing. But she stopped abruptly as she realized there was a definite possibility that he was on her roof, or perched on the next building over, and he would know exactly how anxious she was as he dithered over whether to come in.
And that pissed her off.
"It's now or never, Daredevil," she snapped loudly to the empty room.
She felt both annoyed and smugly satisfied when she heard him at the window just minutes later. She'd left it unlocked. "Come in," she said, without raising her voice, then she walked into her bathroom and put the final touches in place, surveying herself in the mirror.
She could hear him walking softly through the hallway, into the living room. She met him there, and his head tilted to the side, like he was trying to figure her out.
"Matt, we need to talk," she said.
His curious expression hardened into defensiveness. "Karen—"
But she had already closed the distance between them. She untied the silky robe she was wearing and parted it farther.
"We need to talk about this," she said. She took his hand and pressed it to her hip, until his fingertips started to move carefully over the buttery leather strap of the harness she was wearing. He inhaled with surprise, but he didn't pull away. So she guided his hand again, wrapping it around the flesh-colored silicone jutting out between her hips.
"We need to talk about what you want from me," she said. “What I can give you.”
His hand moved then, exploring further, and a pleasant tingling sensation spread through her. She was surprised by how good it felt. The straps bit into her hips just right, and there was something about the way her body was responding, about the way Matt was breathing, that gave her a heady rush.
Clearly, Marci had known what she was talking about. Karen felt the muscles in her shoulders relax just a little. Marci had been so certain, but there had also been a very real chance that this would backfire. Spectacularly.
“So...you’re interested?” she asked, needing to hear him actually say it.
“Yeah,” Matt breathed, sounding awestruck. “Yes.”
Maybe he was in love with her. She kissed him then, hard, and his hands slid under her robe to roam over her bare skin.
“You'll have to take the mask off," she said, breathing unsteadily as he touched her. "If I'm going to fuck you, I want to fuck you, not Daredevil.” She waited for her words to sink in. “Are you OK with that?”
He uncovered his face, pulled the fabric off his head. "Completely," he said, and started shucking the rest of his suit.
And then, he was spread out before her, bent over her bed, finally stripped completely bare to her — no glasses, no mask, no defenses. He had the best goddamn ass she’d ever seen, and she was about to lay claim to it. He was about to let her in. She swallowed hard as the anticipation built, the buzz between her thighs almost unbearable.
She lubed up her fingers, wanting to get the feel of him, wanting him to know her as a warm and tender touch. She slipped down the cleft of him to explore, sliding around the sweet pucker and biting her lip when he took in a gasping breath.
“I need you to know that I’m open to anything you want, Matt,” she said, continuing to touch him. “You’re not gonna scare me off. You just have to talk to me, OK?”
She pushed a fingertip inside, just a little. “OK,” he said, his voice higher and airier than usual. She waited, breathless, until he groaned, “More...please.”
She tested out a shallow thrusting motion, slowly, gently. “Jesus,” he breathed, and she moved deeper, circling, stretching. When it felt right, when it felt like she could, she squeezed in another slick finger. He moaned, moving erratically, the gorgeous muscles of his back rippling. “Fuck—god—just give it to me,” he pleaded, making her dizzy with desire. He was ready and willing and begging for her, and it was completely in her power to give him what he needed.
Karen took a deep breath to steady herself. Then she spread the lubricant generously, and she lined up the head of her silicone cock. “You sure?” she said.
“I’m sure,” he panted. “And Karen?”
“Yeah?”
His voice was low, and rich, and utterly sincere. "Whatever you've got, I can take it."
He wasn’t lying. And, damn, it was hard work. Her muscles started trembling much sooner than she expected. But the noises that were escaping Matt made her feel almost superhuman — pushing her beyond the burn. Was this what it felt like for him on the streets? Nerve endings and sinew alive with the strain, thrilling with strength otherwise untapped?
She knew when she had hit the right spot, found the right rhythm, because his sounds went transparent — all breath, all tension — while hers colored in more deeply.
And just when she thought she couldn’t possibly keep going — though she could, she knew somehow that she’d go as long as it took — they found it, together, they found what he needed and he cried out, a rough, muffled sound that she swallowed down whole. That she’d keep, greedily, forever.
Later, she ended up in his arms, still shaky with exhaustion, but also pretty damn proud of herself. He was touching her lazily all over, his hand gliding over her skin, calming her muscles.
His face wore the bliss of the well and thoroughly fucked, but as time ticked on she could see a spark starting to build, higher and higher, until it caught flame. They were far from done.
"I get to fuck you, too, right?" he murmured into her ear, dipping his fingers into the wetness between her legs, now that she was completely bare to him.
She kissed him roughly. "You damn well better," she said.