I nod, adrenaline pumping through my veins, and fight the urge bolt out of the room, because even though I’m terrified, this is what I want. I know it in my bones, and my cock is already throbbing and hard behind the thick fly of my pants.
“Okay.”
He chuckles. “I don’t do the whole safeword thing. I’m not into non-consent, so if you say stop, I’ll stop. If you can’t say stop because you’re gagged or whatever reason, just give me the finger.”
“Alright.”
“Alright, Ronan,” he corrects, folding one leg over the other.
I swallow my fear. “Alright, Ronan.”
“We talked limits before, but refresh my memory.”
“No breathplay. No needles or knives. No humiliation,” I say.
“Do you consider watersports humiliation?” Ronan wings up an eyebrow.
I take a deep breath, unsure if getting pissed on by this man would be humiliating or not.
“I meant notverbalhumiliation,” I clarify.
“That’s an important note. Thank you.”
“Yours?” I clear my throat. He’s told me already, but I want to pay him back the same courtesy by asking.
He smiles at me, flashing a row of straight, white teeth.
“No breathing games. No blood.”
“Yeah,” I rasp.
He leans back against the couch. He looks so relaxed, so casual, like he’s done this a thousand times. Part of me hopes he has and the other part hopes he hasn’t, because it’s special for me to be here, and I want it to be special for him too.
Even though he’s a stranger.
A stranger I want to hurt me.
