“If I wanted your cock, I’d ask for it,” she snapped, forcing herself to be still for a few moments before her hips began to move again of their own volition.
“No, you wouldn’t. Asking means there’s a chance of rejection. You’d rather get angry, pick a damn fight, and goad me into fucking you like a furious bear than ask for it.” Instead of withering under her narrowed stare, Reaux grinned at her.“Want me to make it easy on you, Bennie? All I’m wearing is a pair of sweatpants. Nothing underneath. No belt or zipper to battle. You can have every single inch of my cock in exchange for one simple thing.”
Curiosity and greedy longing flickered in her eyes, softening the press of her mouth. Even her arms loosened from across her chest before she tightened them again. “Go on.”
It felt weird, bartering for sex they both wanted. Wasn’t it ridiculous how far they’d fallen? He supposed it was a consequence of how messed up they were in this current dynamic; both Dominant, both capable of submitting, needing what the other offered but too proud to just admit it and demand what they craved.
“Sex is on the table for as long as you need it. Fuck me however you please, tell me how you’d like to be fucked, and we can go at it like demented bunnies for the rest of the afternoon.” He waited for her reaction, daring to smile when she didn’t immediately tear his head off for suggesting it. “In return, we take a night out in one of the playrooms, and I get to purge some of my own frustration on you.”
She considered it. “With sex?”
“If you think you can handle it.”
Her scoff was adorable. “In private. I’m not ruining the last days of my reputation here being topped in front of everyone.”
“We could arrange a private area, I’m sure.”
More consideration followed while she indulged in a quick nail-biting session, worrying her thumbnail as she weighed up the pros and cons. Why she felt the need to procrastinate when they both knew what her decision would ultimately be was beyond him, but he supposed she had to keep the illusion of control somehow.
They were both controlled by each other, by desire, by their connection.
She couldn’t deny it, no matter how much she tried, and he… well, he didn’t want to.
The simple fact that his body, his consciousness, his everything revolved around her was a point of pride, not something to regret. Wanting her, needing her, craving her with every breath were sensations he embraced.
“Fine. Get your pants off.”
“Four words I’ve been longing to hear for days.” Reaux’s gaze stroked down her body. “A little overdressed yourself, don’t you think?”
Overdressed for the occasion, but not in general. He loved her casual attire when she was home and comfortable; as much as he admired her club outfits and the way they hugged her lush body, how leather and lace turned a work of art into perfection, they summed her up as a Domme.
Here, in spite of her attitude, the pale peach yoga pants and matching T-shirt she’d decided to lounge around in today symbolized Violet the woman, without the weight and responsibilities of the community.
Full lips, bare of color, curved into a wicked smile. Rising up onto her knees, she reached between her legs, her hand disappearing into that sexy vee. That smile reflected in her eyes as she pulled her hand forward, the tiniest zipper pinched between her thumb and forefinger, and the crotch of those damn yoga pants parted as though she’d sliced the seam.
Catching a glimpse of pink, wet heaven through the now open crotch of the pants, Reaux barely registered his mouth dropping open in shock. “What the fuck?”
“For the woman who likes a little sex with her yoga,” Violet said dryly. “Now who’s overdressed?”
He didn’t waste any time replying; he simply lifted his hips, reaching around her waist to shove the waistband of his sweatsdown enough to free his erection. “Problem solved. We’re being efficient today.”
“I approve of efficiency.” Violet’s hand drifted back behind her, her fingers wrapping around his shaft and squeezing hard. More blood pumped into the organ until it felt painfully swollen.
He could feel his heartbeat pulsing at the base, in his balls, at the crown. “Here on the couch?”
Her eyebrow arched imperiously. “Problem?”
“No, no problem. Wall sex, couch sex, floor sex… no complaints here.”
“Good.”
“It’s just… ah…” Shit, she was going to turn couch sex into a premature handjob ejaculation if she didn’t stop squeezing him. He managed to choke out one word before his voice stepped up an octave. “Condom.”
“What?” Her grip relaxed slightly, allowing his eyes to uncross.
“It was one of your stipulations, right? No sex without a condom until we know if…” Warily, aware he was thoroughly at her mercy, he stroked the backs of his fingers over her belly. “Baby Fontenot.”
She scowled at him. “Don’t call it that.”
