Then he sucks hard on my clit, sending me over the edge of the orgasm I’ve been waiting for since he told me to put on the dress.
His tongue circles my clit in time with his fingers as he draws out the orgasm for as long as possible.
“Fuck, you’re already so wet for me, and we’ve barely started.” He gets up and lets his shirt drop, turning for a moment to toss it over a chair.
It’s then that I catch a glimpse of the crying angel on his back, the four horsemen charging into war beneath it.
“Let me see your tattoo,” I say softly, sitting up and making room for him to sit on the couch in front of me.
He does as I say, and for a moment, I feel more powerful than I have in days.
Ezra has always made me feel powerful when talking to him, though. It’s as if I have him in the palm of my hand, but just for those moments when he allows it.
There’s something addictive about the subtle power struggle. The changing of dynamic that he allows.
“You aren’t what I thought you would be.” I trace my fingers over the lines of his tattoo. I kneel behind him, mouth tracing over his hammering pulse. “I didn’t think I was going to want you like this. I didn’t think you were the dominant kind either.”
He chuckles, tilting his head to the side and giving me better access. “You didn’t think I was going to allow you to dominate me, did you?”
“Only a little.”
In the blink of an eye, he’s on his feet and hauling me up with him. Our clothing heads to the floor as his nimble hands roam over my body.
And then he spins me around, shoving me to bend over the arm of a chair, my ass in the air.
He slams into me without a moment of hesitation, burying himself to the hilt as my pussy clamps down around him.
I meet his every thrust, needing more of him. Wanting to give myself over to the version of Ezra I know. Pretending for just one night that I can separate one man from the other.
His fingers dig into my hips. “You’ve always been such a good little whore for me, love. You were always putting that pretty pink pussy on display. I could spend forever staring at it.”
“Just fuck it,” I pant, breathless, as one of his hands snakes around to my clit.
All it takes is him rolling my clit between his fingers, his cock throbbing inside me as he goes deeper than my own fingers have ever done.
He sends me over the edge, his own groan and release following.
He keeps pumping, though the strokes slow.
Ezra takes his time getting his fill of me before pulling out.
With a steady hand, he pulls me back up straight, spinning me around to face him. “I want you to remember that the next time you even think for a second that I’d allow you to dominate me.”
I smirk, nails raking down his chest. “You already have.”
Something sparks in his eyes before he grabs his slacks from the floor and pulls out his phone. “I’m going to order burgers. You should go get cleaned up. My room is down the hall, open door. Find yourself something to wear.”
I pad down the hall and to his room, taking it in.
The scent of his cologne clings to the sheets, filling the room with a light hint of musk.
I step into the attached bathroom, cleaning up before going back into his bedroom and opening the dresser.
On top of everything else is a selection of my clothing.
He broke into my home and stole my clothing.
I should be more upset about it than I am, but after days of living in only a t-shirt, I’m excited for a little pair of silk sleep shorts and a matching camisole.
