They celebrate payday by going to Mario’s, the only place on Ceres that serves pizza with real cheese. Mario must have connections down the well. As fine, upstanding Star Helix officers, they should probably investigate those connections but the pizza is just too damn good. Expensive as hell but worth it.
Sitting at a corner table in the tiny, dark joint, they eat the hot, gooey slices so fast they’re hardly able to talk. Octavia’s tongue dances with tomato, creamy dairy and oregano. When they’re down to the last piece, without thinking she reaches out and grabs it.
Miller shakes his head. “You did not just do that.”
She waves the slice in front of his face, grinning. “Oh, but I did.”
“Hand it over,” he growls.
“Nope,” she says and shoves half of it in her mouth. It’s worth not savoring the last slice just to see him pout.
His long fingers wrap around her wrist and squeeze. Miller leans closer and whispers in her ear, “You’re gonna pay for that when we get home.” His entire face seems to harden.
She feels her heart rate pick up speed and goosebumps rise on her arms, despite the warmth from the pizza oven. “Oh yeah?”
The grip on her wrist tightens. “Yeah. You’re due for a punishment.” His upper lip curls into a sneer but there’s a roguish twinkle in his eyes.
God, she’s getting wet already. How does he do this to her? And why does she love it so much?
Octavia throws some scrip on the table and stands up. “Let’s go,” she says.
As soon as they walk in her apartment, Miller seems to stand straighter, taller. He takes off his coat and hat and lays them on the chair. He walks over to the cabinet and pulls out a bottle and a glass. He pours himself a couple of fingers of her good whiskey and sits on the couch. “I’m going to sit here and enjoy this drink while you take a shower,” he says, voice low and even. “In ten minutes I’m going to walk into the bedroom and you’re going to be waiting for me there, kneeling on the floor.”
A shiver runs up Octavia’s spine.
Facing the closed door, she kneels, her bottom resting on her heels. She’s wearing only her black lace underwear. A shiver runs through her but she doesn’t know if it’s from anticipation or the chilly air on her damp skin. Miller must have turned the climate control down, the sneaky bastard.
It’s been a lot longer than ten minutes, she figures. Octavia folds and unfolds her hands, tries not to think about the warm bathrobe hanging on a hook on the door. Maybe she should call this off. It was a long week. A sweet, cozy fuck and a good night’s sleep sound pretty nice right now.
But no, something inside her knows that this is exactly what she wants, what she needs. She remembers the night a few months ago when she told him.
They were lying together in bed, just a little drunk on sake, idly kissing and touching each other.
Miller asked her what she’d always wanted to do in bed but never had. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it,” he said.
After a minute, she found the courage to tell him the truth. “I…well, I think I’d like you to tie me up and…um…do things to me,” she whispered, her eyes closed. She didn’t want to see his face.
“Mmm…what kind of things?”
It was hard to find the words for what she’d never dared speak aloud. For things she’d fantasized about since she was quite young, things she’d been sure were too awful to share with another person. “I don’t know,” she said. “Like dominating me. Telling me what to do. Maybe…uh…spanking me.”
He chuckled and for a second she was sure he found her most secret desires funny. She felt her cheeks burning. Miller kissed her temple. “Is that all?” he said. “I thought you were going to tell me some scenario involving six greased-up twentysomething boys and a marching band.”
Octavia swatted at him. “Stop joking. I’m being serious.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m taking you seriously. There’s nothing wrong with what you want.”
She opened her eyes and found he was looking directly at her, no judgment on his face, just keen interest. “I’ve always felt like it’s just weird and wrong. And degrading to want a man to treat me like that.”
“Come on,” he said, scoffing. “You know that if I bossed you around in real life you’d lay my ass flat. And rightly so. But when we’re in bed, anything goes if we both want it.”
Octavia smiled. “But is this something you’d want to do, too?”
He nodded. “Sure. I mean, I’ve never done it before, not seriously, but I can see being the boss. Kinda hot, really.”
Later, they made love. Outwardly, it might have looked like the dozens of other times they’d had sex, with Miller on top, thrusting deeply into her, while she moaned with pleasure. But this time he pinned her wrists over her head with this strong hands and wouldn’t let her go. “I’m not gonna let you go until you’ve come good and hard for me, you little slut,” he whispered in her ear.
She fought back a little, testing his strength. “Nope,” he said, stilling inside her. “Don’t even try that with me or this ends right here.” He withdrew all but the head of his cock as if making his point.
All she wanted was him inside her, filling her. “I’ll be good,” she said.
“Beg for it then.”
“Please, Miller, please fuck me. Fuck me hard. I’ll be a good girl. I promise.”
“That’s better,” he grunted and drove himself so deeply in her it almost hurt.
She had no control, she thought, and it was somehow freeing. He was in command and she was just along for the ride. Her brain, which was always too busy with thoughts, memories, and plans, quieted and all she could feel was his skin against hers, the pressure of his fingers around her wrists, and the maddening sensation of his cock sliding in and out of her.
“You like this, don’t you?” he whispered. “Dirty whore like you, you love to be fucked.”
“Yes,” she gasped.
“Tell me how much you love it.”
“It feels so good, Miller. I love how you feel inside me. But I want…I want more.”
“You want to come?” he said.
Octavia couldn’t even speak now as he slammed into her. She nodded.
“I don’t know,” Miller panted. “Have you been a good girl?”
“Yeah,” she gasped, moving her legs higher up his back so he could go deeper in her.
“I don’t know…I don’t know if you deserve to come.”
“Please, please,” she heard herself beg. “Let me come.”
Miller’s right hand let go of her wrist and snaked between their bodies, where it found her clit. He lightly brushed it with his finger and she jerked as if mildly electrocuted. “Oh yes,” she hissed.
“Because you’ve been such a good girl you’re gonna come for me now,” he said in a firm voice. His fingertips stroked her clitoris in time with his cock. “Are you ready?”
Octavia had never been so ready for anything in her life. She could feel her orgasm far off in the distance but steadily moving closer. Sweat trickled down the sides of her face.
“Come,” he whispered in her ear and at just that moment she felt the waves take her over, stronger and harder until she felt she might break in two. She heard herself crying out sharply and Miller’s moans joined hers, lower and deeper.
Miller let her other wrist free and she grabbed his ass with her hands to bring him in still deeper. She watched his face, looming above hers, as it contorted as he came—his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth grimacing. “Oh fuck, oh Tavi,” he groaned as he pushed into her one last time.
And then they were motionless for what felt like a long time, still joined.
“Oh my god,” she said when she finally got her breath and a few brain cells back. “You’re a natural at this.”
He wrapped her arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “You too.”
For the first time in her life, Octavia felt free. Free of the burden of the fantasies that she’d kept to herself for most of her life. With Miller, anything seemed possible.
She comes back to the present day, to the reality that she’s kneeling on her floor and her legs are starting to ache and she’s still covered in goosebumps and where the hell is Miller?
Just when she’s about to disobediently rise and grab her robe, the door opens and he walks in. He seems impossibly tall from her perspective on the floor.
“Good girl,” he says. “You know I like it when you do as you’re told.”
She watches as he removes his belt from the loops on his pants and lays it carefully on the bedside table. Miller unzips his pants and takes his cock out, already hard. He steps in front of her and she instinctively rises on her knees.
His hand goes to her throat, gripping her hard and forcing her head back. His thumb traces the outline of her lips. “You know what to do, Octavia,” he says in a low voice.
He guides his cock between her lips and into her mouth and yes, yes, she does know just what to do.
Octavia and Miller are no longer partners in the work sense of the word. Not long after they started sleeping together, she requested a new partner. Shaddid didn’t even ask her why. Everyone knew that Miller was impossible and rarely lasted more than a year with any one partner.
Still, she sees him almost every day at HQ and it can get complicated. She remembers last week when the officers stood around, drinking burned-tasting coffee and gossiping while waiting for roll call. Octavia was leaning on her desk, trying to wake up, when she saw Miller slouch through the doorway. He looked like he’d spent the night in the gutter—wrinkled jacket, stubble on his chin, dark circles around his eyes. Only she knew that the reason why he looked especially rumpled was because he’d been up half the night fucking her.
She, on the other hand, looked glorious despite the lack of sleep. The more sex she had, the better she looked, she knew. Good sex made her glow from within. Her eyes were clear, her cheeks rosy and there was a spring in her step. Lately, all sorts of guys, and more than a few women, were hitting on her left and right.
He stopped in front of her and stole her coffee cup right out of her hand, took a slug, and handed it back to her. “Morning, Muss,” he said, his voice creaky.
“Good morning,” she replied. “Rested and ready to protect the good people of Ceres?” She had the fight the urge to laugh.
Miller raised an eyebrow and then his hand went down to his belt, which he showily adjusted, centering the buckle between the two front loops on his trousers.
Octavia’s mouth opened and she felt herself drawing in a long burst of oxygen. That asshole. Considering what they’d done last night, he might as well have pulled out his cock and started waving it around.
But as pissed off as her brain was, her body went into Pavlovian response. Her mouth started watering and she felt the telltale tingling between her legs. She hadn’t even finished her first cup of coffee but she wanted to drag him off to the locker room and bang the ever-living lights out of him.
She set the cup down on her desk. “Go away, Miller.”
He smirked. “Somebody’s cranky this morning.”
Octavia stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, “If you ever do that at work again, I’m going to cut your dick off while you’re sleeping and serve it to you for breakfast.”
Miller backed up a few steps and raised his hands as if surrendering. “You’re the boss,” he said and walked off in the direction of the coffeemaker.
“Suck it,” Miller says, his voice thick. His hands grasp the back of her neck, guiding the pace as his cock moves in and out of her mouth. There’s no time for playful teasing, for the little niceties like swirling her tongue all over him. He means business, fucking her mouth like this.
“Harder,” he mutters and Octavia obediently does her best. At this particular moment, she’s his slave, she’s his girl, she’s devoted to only one thing in the world and that’s sucking his cock. Nothing else matters, not the ever-growing list of cases she needs to resolve by the end of the fiscal year, not the fact that she needs to call her mother back, not even her growing suspicion that Miller drinks too much for her own personal comfort.
Fuck all that. She’s living in the purest sense of the present, where all that matters is sucking him off and making him feel good. She’s even able to ignore that her knees are starting to ache, she’s getting a crick in her neck, and sucking so hard makes her jaw hurt. There’s only one thing she’s focused on and it’s his cock, rock hard and swollen from his blood.
Miller stills for a moment and pushes his trousers and shorts down so that they puddle around his ankles. Her hands automatically go to his ass, squeezing his cheeks with her hands. “Ahh, that’s my good girl,” he moans.
Octavia senses that he’s near coming. His breath is coming in shallow pants and his cock seems to get even longer and thicker between her lips. He’s now thrusting desperately into her mouth. A few times, she almost gags as he starts to hit the back of her throat.
Part of her wants to rise on her shaky legs and pull him to the bed so he can plunge himself as deeply in her pussy as he possibly can. But she knows she needs to obey him. If he wanted to do that, he’d make it happen. She can feel her clit aching between her legs, desperate for contact.
The muscles in his ass and legs tense and Octavia knows that he’s going to come any second. She can hear it in the depth of his groans and how tightly he holds her neck. She takes her index finger and slowly works it into his anus.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Miller mutters as she slowly moves her finger in and out of his asshole. “Oh fuckkkkkkkkk…”
She feels the warm gush of his come rush into her mouth as he finishes with a few desperate last thrusts. His hands stroke her hair. “What a good girl you are,” he says, his voice dreamy and remote. He withdraws from her and she from him. His hand cups the underside of her chin to keep her mouth closed. “Swallow it,” he orders.
Miller knows very well that she doesn’t exactly love swallowing. It’s not a taste but a texture thing. She’s never liked slimy, viscous textures. She knows she has the right of refusal, but she wants to please him, to be good. She swallows hard and fights to not gag on the salty stuff running down her throat.
He pulls up his pants and zips them. “Well, that was fun,” he says. “But I’ve got to be going.”
Octavia sits back on her heels. “Go where?”
“Night, Octavia,” he says and walks through the door. She hears him walk through the living room and then front door shutting and the deadbolt clicking into place.
What the fuck? Did he actually have the nerve to get blown and then just…leave? What’s wrong with the man?
Octavia rises on shaky, sore legs and sits on the edge of her bed, shaking her head, unable to believe that Miller just left her high and dry. Or not so dry, as the case may be, she thinks. He can be a real dickhead when he wants to be, but he’s never done anything this cruel.
She thinks about going and getting a glass of water to wash the salty taste of his come out of her mouth. And washing her hands, while she’s at it. She considers grabbing her vibrator and finishing herself off. For one second, she thinks about running after him so she can punch him in the face.
From the corner of her eye, she notices his belt, coiled on the bedside table like a snake. She feels like the belt is taunting her, teasing her with all the things it could have done to her if Miller hadn’t taken off.
And then a smile spreads on her face. Miller wouldn’t just leave without his belt. As far as she knows, it’s the only one he owns. He’s playing some kind of game with her.
He’ll be back.
The minutes tick by and still Miller doesn’t return. Octavia picks up her terminal to message him and sets it back down again at least four times because she doesn’t know what she’d say besides “Get back here or I’m going to kick your skinny white ass.”
“Motherfucker,” she mutters under her breath. With a sigh, she stands up and pulls on her bathrobe. She brushes her teeth and washes her hands, drinks a big glass of water. Eventually she pours herself a glass of white wine.
Still no sign of him.
She turns on the vid feed but there’s nothing on tonight but depressing news, that melodramatic Martian soap opera, Love in the Time of Terraforming, and some humiliating show called Out of the Tank and Onto the Course where Belters attempt to complete an obstacle course on Earth for big money. She turns it back off and paces the living room.
Shithead. He’s not coming back. She hopes his pants fall off in front of a million people. She hopes his dick turns black, shrivels up and breaks off the next time he needs to pee.
After an hour, she gives up on Miller ever coming back. It’s getting late, anyhow. Might as well get a good night’s sleep for once. She climbs in bed and turns off the lamp, rolls onto her side and tries to will herself to sleep but it doesn’t come. She’s still keyed up from earlier in the night and tosses and turns, trying to find a comfortable position. Her arms and legs feel restless, as if she could run 25 kilometers.
Fine, then. She knows what’s guaranteed to make her sleep.
Octavia opens the bedside table drawer and pulls out her vibrator, a sleek little black number that knows her body better than Miller ever will.
She tries to think of something good, something, anything that’s not Miller since he’s number one on her shit list right now. After a minute, she settles on that boyish blonde trainer at her gym. Sera is her name. Octavia closes her eyes and imagines Sera’s long, muscular legs and her small breasts bound only by a hot pink sports bra. In her mind, she kisses Sera in the locker room and pushes the other woman down onto the bench.
Octavia turns on the vibrator and brings it between her legs. She gasps as it touches her clit, which still feels swollen and achy after the frustration of being with Miller. “Yesss,” she hears herself hiss.
She imagines straddling Sera’s face, Sera’s tongue on her clit. But then, as if against Octavia’s will, Sera transforms into Miller and they’re here in this bed, Miller circling her clitoris with his tongue, his fingers gliding in and out of her pussy. Octavia grabs the rungs of her headboard for support as she rocks on Miller’s face, the stubble on his face scraping her thighs. It’s good, it’s so good and she’s so fucking close, all it will take is…
“That’s a nice sight,” she hears a voice say somewhere off in the distance.
Octavia opens her eyes and sits up, and there’s Miller, standing in the doorway. She drops the vibrator, where it lies on her bed, still buzzing away.
“Dzhemang,” she says. “Where the fuck have you been?”
Miller grins, showing the dimples she usually finds irresistible. “You’re too impatient, Tavi,” he says. “You need to learn to wait for good things.”
Octavia sits up in bed, wrapping the sheet around her. “I’m not in the mood for a lesson tonight. Why don’t you just go home and let me get some sleep.”
“That wouldn’t be any fun.” He unbuttons his shirt and tosses it to the floor. “And there’s still fun to be had tonight.”
“You’re an asshole, Miller.”
“So you’ve told me a hundred times, doll.” He laughs and she briefly considers throwing the vibrator at his head.
She finds her resolve weakening at the sight of his body. As skinny as he is, Miller has a beautiful body—broad shoulders, nicely muscled arms, and just the right amount of chest hair, not too much or too little. Not to mention his cock, which is long and thick and already hard and oh god, she wants it in her mouth again.
Miller climbs into bed fully naked and kisses her. That’s the other thing. He may have plenty of personal failings but Miller can certainly kiss. “What were you thinking about?” he asks.
“What?” she says, momentarily confused. Kissing Miller often does that to her, shuts down her good sense.
“When you were getting yourself off. What were you fantasizing about?”
“Oh,” she says. It’s hard to remember. “I was with you and you were…you were eating me.”
“Mmm, sounds like a good idea.” He kisses her again, his fingers traveling between her legs. “You’re so nice and wet for me, Tavi.”
It turns her on when he calls her by her nickname. It feels so intimate. “Please,” she says. “Please do it.”
Miller licks his lower lip and she almost comes right there. “Be a good girl and spread your legs,” he rasps.
And then he’s there, right at the sweet spot, his tongue flicking against her clit, three fingers buried deep inside her. It’s so much better than her fantasy. Her fingers tangle in his hair as she sets the pace, nice and slow, yes, nice and slow, just like that. Just like that…
She’s finally so close she can almost taste it when Miller lifts his face from her and pulls out his fingers. “What are you doing?” she moans.
Miller wipes his lips and sits up. “There’s the little matter of your punishment, Octavia.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Tears of frustration spring in her eyes. It’s as if he’s on a one-man mission to prevent her from ever having an orgasm again.
“Did you think I forgot about that piece of pizza?”
“Aren't we even, what with you taking off for more than an hour to do god-knows-what?”
He shakes his head. “Not even close.”
“I don’t think I’m in the right headspace for that kind of thing right now,” she says, sitting up.
“Well, you’re going to have to get into it,” Miller says. He slides out of bed and stands up, grabs the belt lying on the bedside table.
He takes the belt and folds it in half into a loop. “Get on your hands and knees, Octavia. You’re past due for a spanking.”
“Get on your hands and knees, Octavia. You’re past due for a spanking.”
She gulps. “What if I don’t want to?”
“Be a good girl,” he says, his voice somehow menacing. She sees his fingers tighten on the belt.
A thrill of fear runs through her. She knows, in the intellectual part of her brain, that he’d never hurt her without her consent, but the primal, animal part of her brain is afraid anyhow.
She does as she’s told and gets on her hands and knees. This position always makes her feel exposed, completely naked before his eyes. She finds that her legs and arms are shaking a little.
“That’s my girl,” he says. Miller leans in to her and whispers in her ear, “This can stop any time. You know the words.”
Yellow and red, she thinks, reminding herself. Yellow to slow and red to stop.
He begins, as he almost does, with his hands. Miller’s large hands stroke and squeeze her bottom, as if he’s appraising merchandise for sale. “That’s a beautiful ass,” he mutters, as if to himself. “I remember the first time I saw you, coming through the door at HQ. Miller, my man, I thought, you’ve got to get your hands on that ass as soon as possible.”
She can’t help it, she laughs. “You did not.”
“I did,” he says and presses a kiss at the spot where the cleft of her ass begins. “Couldn’t help it. Your ass is spectacular. Round and full and soft. Entirely edible. Too bad I’m going to hurt it now.”
Octavia feels a light blow on her left cheek, so light it almost tickles. She stifles another laugh. The next one, on the right is a bit harder and the urge to laugh evaporates. She closes her eyes as he keeps spanking her with his hand, each strike incrementally heavier against her skin.
His voice is scratchy. “And then there’s the view. Not only do I get to see your lovely ass, I get to see your pussy lips, too.” For one second he runs his finger along them and she hears herself sigh with thwarted desire.
“I know you’re frustrated, Tavi,” he says, slipping a finger deep inside her. “But just think about how good it’s gonna feel when I let you finally come.” His hand comes down hard on her cheeks with a loud smack as he fucks her with his finger.
She finds that her arms no longer want to support her. Octavia wiggles away from him to grab a pillow on which to rest her head.
“Who said you could move?” he says, grabbing her arm. “Did I give you permission to do that?”
“No, but I wanted a pillow…”
“I don’t think you’re understanding me. You don’t get to do anything unless I give you permission.”
“Yes, sir,” she says, the sarcasm evident in her voice.
“Octavia, you know what happens when you act bratty like this, yes?”
She knows; she knows all too well. She fears it and welcomes it at the same time. “Yes,” she croaks, closing her eyes.
Miller’s voice is low and even. “I’m going to have to take additional disciplinary measures.” She hears him walk towards the head of the bed and the sound of the drawer opening. Her heart begins hammering away wildly in her chest.
She feels the chill of metal clasping around her left wrist. “One of the good things about being a cop is access to all the handcuffs I need,” he says. She opens her eyes and watches him lock the other cuff on one of the posts of her headboard.
Miller walks around to the other side of the bed. “And I do love to see you cuffed,” he mutters. He cuffs her right wrist, too, and attaches it to the headboard.
“Lift your head,” he orders and everything turns black as he ties a blindfold around her head.
“Not the blindfold,” she begs. It’s much scarier when she can’t see what he’s doing to her.
“Yes, the blindfold,” Miller rasps. “You should have thought of that before you were disobedient.”
Octavia struggles to control her breath. The first time he cuffed and blindfolded her, it frightened her so much that she almost hyperventilated. He’s not going to hurt you, she reminds herself. He won’t really hurt you.
But she also knows that if he really wanted to hurt her right now, he could. She’s entirely at Miller’s mercy. She remembers the time they found the prostitute dead in her bed at the brothel, her hands bound to the bedposts with her own fishnet stockings, her panties stuffed in her mouth, and strangled with her pink lace bra so savagely that the coroner later told them that her attacker had fractured her hyoid bone. Octavia remembers the girl’s eyes—wide and brown and vacant in death.
Trust, she thinks. It’s all about trust. He holds her life in his hands. That’s what makes it so hot. It’s what gets her wet.
“No more playing around, Tavi.” His hand cracks across her butt so hard she cries out.
“You were a bad, bad girl. Now you’re gonna pay.”
This time the pain is sharper, more biting. He’s using the belt. She hears the thwap of leather against her skin. “No,” she hears herself begging. “No, no, no.”
“You deserve it, you little whore.”
Her hands struggle at the cuffs as if she actually has a chance to break free. “No,” he says, his hands grasping her hips. “Don’t move, don’t make a sound or I’ll really hurt you.”
She feels herself slipping into that other place, where it’s velvety dark, like she’s shooting through space and time. She’s no longer in her bedroom with her partner whipping her ass with his belt. She’s slipped through dimensions and into a world where the only thing that’s real is the purity of sensation. In this black world, she experiences his blows as splashes of color—fluorescent yellow, burnt orange and, occasionally, blood red.
The stinging sensation spreads from her ass to her thighs and calves, moves up her spine to her shoulders and arms. Sometimes she can feel fingers brush against her clit, sending a different sort of pleasure running through her nerves. Her brain registers that he’s saying things to her in his rough voice but it isn’t able to sort out just what his words mean. Eventually, she forgets he’s even there with her.
Octavia is alone in this other world, where pain is pleasure and it’s all she knows, has ever known, until the explosions of hurt gradually become smaller and farther apart, fading from red through orange all the way down to the palest yellow. She becomes aware of the sound of his raspy breathing and the chafe of the cuffs at her wrists. She can smell his sweat and feel his hands stroking her ass, as if to soothe away the deep throbbing under her skin. Reality is leaking back in.
“Such a good girl, so obedient,” she hears him say and she almost startles at the sound of his voice. “You okay?”
Somehow she manages to nod.
“Good,” he says. “Because now you need to be fucked. Hard.”
“Yes,” she hears herself plead. “Fuck me.”
His fingertip travels a firm line down her spine and over her bottom until it reaches her anus, where it gently prods her. “I’m going to fuck you here,” he says, his voice so soft she almost can’t hear him. “Right here.”
“No, no.” They tried anal once before but it hurt too much and she made him stop.
“Yes, yes,” he says, almost sounding like he’s laughing. “And this time you’ll love it.”
Red, she thinks. You can always say red and it ends here. You have the right to say no.
But much to her surprise, she feels herself spread her legs apart and say, “Yes. Yes, please. Fuck me.”
Octavia lifts her head. “But first, can you take off the cuffs?” She must have been straining hard against the cuffs because her wrists are burning almost harder than her bottom. She’ll probably have to wear long sleeves for a few days.
“Hmm…” Miller says. “I don’t know. Are you going to behave yourself this time?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” She’d promise anything to get those handcuffs off.
“Say please.” There’s laughter in his voice.
“Please, Miller. Please uncuff me.”
She feels him fumble the key in the lock and the left cuff is off. A few seconds later, so is the right.
“May I sit up?” she asks. She’s a little stiff from being on her knees for so long.
Octavia feels his hands at the back of her head and the blindfold falls free. Even though the bedroom is lit only by a small light at the bedside, her eyes blink rapidly in the light.
Miller’s hand strokes her hair. “Go ahead. Stretch. Take a little walk if you need to.”
She sits up and her head feels light. She worries she might faint for a second. She rubs her wrist, which is an angry red. Miller sits down next to her and takes her other wrist in his hand, gently massaging it.
“Did I fasten them too tight?” he asks.
“Probably just tight enough.”
He presses warm lips to her temple. “You know I never want to hurt you, right?”
Octavia laughs. “Tell that to my butt.”
“I mean really hurt you.”
“I know.” The real potential for hurt with Miller isn’t anything physical, she thinks. Loving another person, especially one as bruised by life as Miller, carries great risk.
He hands her a glass of water. “Here, drink.”
Octavia swallows almost all of the water in just a few gulps. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was until she drank. On slightly wobbly legs, she stands up and stretches. She walks a few steps across the bedroom and stands in front of the mirror on the back of the door. Her bottom is bright red from the spanking, a sight that never fails to excite her. She shivers just a little, thinking of the belt cracking across her ass and Miller’s hand holding the belt.
Miller comes over and touches her bottom. “Does it hurt a lot?”
“It’s a good hurt,” she says. It will ache more tomorrow, she knows, but for now it’s a gentle, throbbing burn.
“Enough talk,” he says. “Get in bed and lie down.” His spine straightens and his chin lifts as he slips into top mode.
“Is that an order?” she says, with a grin.
“Don’t make me cuff you again. I’ll do it if you’re not a good girl.”
Octavia touches her chafed left wrist. That’s the last thing she wants.
Miller slides in next to her. “I want you to be very still, Tavi. Let me do all the work.”
She does her best to not move as he begins running his hands all over her, so lightly it almost tickles as he strokes her calves, her thighs, her belly and then reaches her breasts. He circles her nipples with his index finger and she has to suppress a gasp. Her body is so sensitive right now. Every cell feels like it’s crackling under his fingers.
“I talk a lot about your ass, but your breasts aren’t bad either,” he says, his voice sounding strangled. Miller throws a leg over her body, straddling her, and bends to her to take a nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue over it.
“Oh,” she groans as he begins to suck in earnest. She feels that direct line from her breasts down her stomach to her pussy.
He alternates breasts, his hands stroking her. Octavia wants to grasp his head and direct him but he told her to be still. Her fingers clutch the sheets beneath her.
Miller lifts his head, his brown eyes seeming to bore into her. “Does that feel good?”
“Yes,” she manages to gasp.
He licks his full lower lip. “Good.”
His lips trace a burning trail down her belly and she feels his warm breath on the curls between her legs. Instinctively, she spreads her legs wider for him, even though he told her not to move. The oxygen catches in her throat as she feels a finger slide between her folds.
“You’re so wet for me, Tavi,” he says. “I love knowing that I make you so wet and slippery.”
Sometimes she thinks that if she tried hard enough she could come just from the sound of his voice, saying things like that to her. There’s something about having spent more than a year as his cop partner, hearing his voice interrogating suspects, threatening gangsters, and now hearing that same voice telling her that he loves how he makes her wet.
Her head thrashes against the pillow as he licks her with agonizing slowness, exploring every nook and cranny of her. She’s already dangerously close to coming. It’s not going to take much. His tongue finally reaches her clit, lightly flicking against it and Octavia finds it’s becoming increasingly difficult to breathe.
“I’m really close,” she gasps, warning him. She knows he’ll probably want to tease her for what will feel like an eternity. But instead of stopping or slowing, she feels his fingers plunge into her.
“Don’t stop, Miller,” she hears herself cry out, her fingers grasping at the sheets so hard it hurts.
He doesn’t stop. She feels him suck at her clitoris, his fingers fucking her hard, in and out in a steady rhythm. She wants to obey his order not to move but she can’t help herself, her hips bucking against each thrust, until yes, oh my god yes, yes, yes, she feels herself coming apart with deep, fierce contractions that go on and on and on until she feels like she might pass out.
Finally, he stops and so does she. “You came close to murdering me,” Octavia says, opening her eyes. She hadn’t even realized she’d closed them in the first place.
“I’m not done yet,” he growls. He lifts his head from between her legs and the expression on his face makes her shiver.
Miller touches her clitoris with his tongue again, and she’s so overstimulated it almost hurts at first. She’s about to tell him to stop when she feels his finger press against her asshole and then slowly slide inside. This creates a new form of sensation, somehow deeper and fuller. If it were a color, as she sometimes imagines when he’s spanking her, it would be a rich royal blue, maybe even purple.
One finger becomes two. Octavia never thought it could feel this good to have his fingers inside her ass. This kind of play has always felt dirty to her in a bad way but it doesn’t tonight. It feels like the most natural thing in the world for him to fuck her there with his fingers, his tongue circling her clit. It seems like they’ve been doing this since the beginning of time.
His fingers pull out of her and his tongue stops moving. “What…” she starts to protest, propping herself on her elbows to see him get out of bed. She’ll shoot him deader than dead if it’s all over now.
Miller opens the drawer of the table and as soon as she sees what he pulls out of there, a thrill runs through her. She knows exactly what he’s going to do and instead of it being a scary idea, it just makes her break out in goosebumps in anticipation.
Standing at the side of the bed, he hands her a condom and a bottle. “Want to do the honors?”
She sits up and rolls the condom over his cock with practiced fingers. She squirts a dollop of lube in her hand, rubs her hands together to warm it up. Miller makes a small sound in his throat as she takes his stiff, latex-covered cock in her slippery hand, sliding the lube on from root to tip and back again. She loves the feel of him under her fingers, so thick and hard.
He pushes her hand away. “Enough of that.”
She laughs. “Hands and knees, master?” She refuses to use words like “sir” and “master” with him because they seem demeaning to her but she does enjoy teasing him every once in a while.
He shakes his head. “No. I want to see your face, Tavi. On your back.”
She dutifully lies back. Miller grabs a couple of pillows from the bed. “Lift your hips,” he whispers and slides them under her bottom.
He straddles her and kisses her for a long, lovely moment. “You ready?”
Miller wraps his hands around her calves and lifts them until they rest on his shoulders. “Once I warm you up, I’m gonna fuck you so hard,” he says.
She feels the head of his cock press against her opening and she braces herself for the pain to come. But there’s only a mild, steady burn he slowly slides inside her ass. “My god,” she gasps, squeezing her eyes shut. She feels the deep sensation of him filling her again.
He touches her cheek. “Eyes open, Tavi,” he orders, his hands grasping her legs. “Be a good girl and look at me.”
Her eyes flutter open to see his face, the expression unexpectedly tender. “Oh, Miller.”
Miller starts thrusting in her, gently at first. It burns a little but that only makes her more excited. Definitely purple, she thinks, as she feels his cock slide in and out of her ass. This feels so much more intimate than regular sex as Miller is the only one who has fucked her like this. She feels like he owns everything about her.
She keeps her gaze steadily locked on his golden brown eyes and his face, which has become beautiful to her in the months they’ve been lovers. He has to let go of her leg several times to push his hair out of his eyes and it makes her want to laugh but she doesn’t dare. She’ll have a private laugh later.
“You’re so tight, Tavi,” he exhales, bending to kiss her. “I wish I could tell you how fucking good this feels.”
Octavia nods, grasping his strong shoulders. She also wishes she had the words to describe to him how she’s feeling—pleasure and pain so strongly comingled that she doesn’t know which is which anymore. All she knows is that she’s never felt closer to Miller than at this moment. And she’s never wanted to come more.
“Can I touch myself?” she whispers. “Please?”
“Yeah, sure. You’ve been very, very good.”
She feels him withdraw from her and she groans in disappointment. “What are you—?”
Octavia doesn’t think, just rolls over onto her hands and knees.
“Damn, that ass of yours, Tavi. It’s almost too much right now, pink and pretty and…” He enters her again, this time so fast it hurts as he stretches her.
She doesn’t really understand any of this, why Miller is the only person she’s ever trusted to do this to her. Before him, she’d slept with plenty of people. When she was younger, she went out almost every weekend and picked out someone to fuck as experience, adventure. But she was never able to let go completely like she does with Miller. With him, she’ll do anything.
With one hand, she grabs onto the headboard and the other hand finds her clit, swollen and aching for contact. Just as she begins to circle it with her first two fingers, Miller’s hand slaps her ass. “No fair,” she says.
“Just reminding you who’s in charge,” he says and smacks her again.
Octavia loses her grasp on reality again. Even though her eyes are open, the room grows dark. She can only register sensation—the thrusts of his cock in and out of her ass, the pain of his hand striking her cheeks, her own fingers on her clit. Mars could mount a full assault on Ceres right at this moment and she wouldn’t even notice. Somewhere, off in the distance, she can hear herself making whimpering sounds, and Miller answering her with throaty groans.
“Come for me,” he mutters. “It’s time, Tavi.” He stops spanking her and grabs her hips with his strong hands.
She presses her fingers into her clit, crying out as the waves break inside her. Her orgasm feels different from every other one she’s had in her life. Dark, dark purple, she thinks, as the contractions move from her clit down to her ass, so powerful that she starts shaking and almost collapses on her face.
“Oh yeah, oh yeah,” Miller is saying, as if repeating a sacred mantra. He’s fucking her so hard it probably is hurting her but in the afterglow of her climax, she isn’t able to experience it as pain.
“Come for me,” she says, daring to order him for a change.
She feels one last desperate thrust of his cock into her and then hears a long string of mostly unintelligible words from him. His fingers are digging into her hips so hard that she’ll probably have fingertip bruises.
He finally stills. Her hands give way beneath her and she falls to the mattress, taking Miller with her. The weight of him feels like it might crush her but she doesn’t mind as she feels the rapid rise and fall of his chest on her back.
“Can’t breathe,” he gasps. “I think I’m dead, Tavi.”
For several minutes they just lie there, breathing together and reveling in the afterglow.
Miller rolls off her and off the bed. “Be right back,” he says and she hears his footsteps padding to the bathroom. She rests her cheek against the mattress, feeling oddly light, like she could fly away off into that other dimension.
She feels the mattress give as he sits down on the bed. He starts lightly scratching her neck and then her upper back. He does this sometimes to help get her out of her head and come back to reality.
“You still in there?” he asks.
She lifts her head and smiles. “Yeah, I’m here.”
His fingernails scratch circles and figure eights on her shoulder blades. “That was something else,” he says. She feels his breath warming her neck. Miller’s hands move to her bottom, which is throbbing a little. “I have just the thing for that but let’s take a shower first.”
Octavia lets him help her off the bed. She feels like she’s having an out-of-body experience, there but not there either. Her butt hurts, her legs ache, and she’s never felt better in her life, like she downed three shots of vodka and smoked a good bowl of hash.
In the bathroom, Miller turns the shower on. “Only twenty-one percent left,” he notes. “I think I’ve been using up a lot of your water.” He steps in the shower and reaches out his hand to her.
The cool water feels wonderful on her overheated skin. She tips her head back and lets the spray hit her face. This must be what rain feels like, she thinks. Miller gently and thoroughly lathers her up with her vanilla-scented soap and then rinses her off. She’s still a bit lost inside her head and passively lets him dry her with the towel, as if she’s a child after a bath.
“Are you okay, Octavia?” His eyes look a little worried.
She nods. “I’m just tired. You wore me out, Miller.”
The smile on his face is wicked. “I did, didn’t I?”
“Not bad for an old man,” she says, poking him in the shoulder. She enjoys teasing him about their twelve-year age difference.
He helps her into bed, settling her onto her stomach. “Just relax,” he says and walks out of the room.
In a minute, he returns with a glass of water and something wrapped in one of her dishtowels.
“What’s that?” she asks.
“Just a something I picked up after I so cruelly abandoned you.” He hands her the glass and she lifts her head to drink it down.
Miller laughs. “Nope.” He places the towel on her bottom and she feels soothing cold. “I found a pharmacy still open and bought one of those cold packs. Threw it in your freezer when I came back.”
“Mmm…it feels good.” It warms her to know that he can be thoughtful sometimes.
He lies down next to her, on his stomach too. He wraps one arm around her waist and pulls him closer to him. She breathes in the scent of her soap on him, brushes her cheek against his whiskers. She still hasn’t had the guts to tell him, but she loves this man. Against all logic and reason, she loves him.
“It means a lot that you trust me to do that to you,” he says softly.
“I do,” she breathes.
“I trust you implicitly, Tavi,” he says, his fingers stroking her back, “but I don’t think I’d trust anyone, even you, to hurt me like that.”
“I know.” She lifts her head off the pillow to kiss him.
A few weeks ago, after a whiskey or two too many, he told her about the children’s home, how the caregivers mercilessly beat their young charges for the smallest infractions. Miller was only four years old when he was taken there after losing his parents. She can’t imagine how it felt to be that young and vulnerable, thrown into an institution and punished almost every day.
It explains a lot about Miller. Sometimes she wonders if he enjoys dominating her in bed because it gives him the control he so utterly lacked as a boy, but she doesn’t care to delve too deeply into the psychology of it. If they both enjoy what they’re doing, why bother.
Miller pulls the comforter over them and turns out the light. “Keep the pack on,” he says.
“Yes, sir.” Her eyelids are growing heavier by the second as sleep crooks its little finger at her.
She feels him roll onto his side. “Hey, Tavi?”
“Yes?” She’s already halfway asleep.
“I feel bad about your water.”
“What are you talking about?”
“About using it up all the time. Maybe…what if I transferred my water account here? I hardly ever use mine anymore.”
Her eyes open in the dark. This is serious business. Moving his account to her apartment is a big commitment, maybe more important than getting married here on Ceres.
“Yeah, sure,” she says. “Why not?” Right now everything seems possible with Miller, even merging their water rations.
“We can talk about it tomorrow,” he says, his voice sounding drowsy.
She closes her eyes again, feeling sucked into the whirlpool of sleep. Just before she goes completely under, she hears Miller say something else, but she has no idea what it is, except that it’s good.
Octavia falls asleep with a smile on her face.
The next time she opens her eyes, the bedroom is light. Octavia automatically glances at her clock and gasps when she sees that it’s 09:32. Shit, shit, shit, she’s late for work, she’s late for everything. And then she remembers that she has the day off and there’s nowhere in particular she needs to be.
Miller’s not in bed with her. He must have left for work.
She gets out of bed and stands on legs that ache a little, which makes her smile, remembering last night. She touches her bottom, which feels a bit swollen but doesn’t hurt as much as she’d expect. The cold pack must have helped.
Octavia pees and brushes her teeth, looks at herself in the mirror, her hair wild and kinky but her eyes bright. She likes what she sees.
As soon as she steps out of the bathroom, she smells it. Coffee and something else, something…could it be?
Miller is sitting at the kitchen table, wearing only his shorts and reading something on his terminal. “Morning, gufovedi,” he says, a hint of a smile on his face.
“Am I smelling what I think I’m smelling?” she asks, hands on her hips.
He walks to the oven and opens it with a flourish. Inside is a pizza, the cheese bubbling. It looks like real cheese to her eyes and it sure smells like it, too.
“What? How?” she says, laughing in astonishment. “Did you go all the way back to Mario’s last night?”
The dimples on his cheeks deepen. “Yep. Thought we could start fresh with a new pizza.”
“You’re nuts,” she says and kisses him.
Five minutes later, the pizza is ready and they sit down. Octavia burns her tongue on the nuclear-hot cheese but keeps on eating anyhow. What’s a little burn when there’s fresh mozzarella to be had?
Within seconds the pizza is almost gone. There’s just one piece left and, by all rights, it belongs to Miller. With a grin, she grabs for the piece, tossing it on her plate.
“That’s my piece,” he says. “If you eat that, you’re in big trouble, girl.”
“Exactly,” she says, laughing, and takes a big bite.