“The spanking?” I trace my thumb across her cheek, wiping away the last of her tears. “I didn’t hurt you?”
“You hurt me exactly the right amount.” She grins, this lazy satisfied smile. “I asked for it, remember? I liked it. A lot. Couldn’t you tell?”
I laugh softly and kiss her properly, slow and sweet, taking my time. When I pull back, I search her face one more time, making sure. “You’d tell me if it was too much? If I ever do anything you don’t like?”
“I promise.” She reaches up and traces her fingers along my jaw. “But I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. I think we’re pretty compatible in that department.” She pauses. “Remember in the Black Lantern when I said ‘ask and I shall obey?’”
“Yeah.”
“Freudian slip. Everything you just did is exactly what I’m into.”
I let that hang there, just listening to her breathing, and eventually I find the strength to pull out, and she winces slightly, oversensitive. I kiss her softly, swallowing her small sound of discomfort.
“Sore?” I ask against her lips.
“In the best way,” she murmurs.
I pull back and look down at her, brushing my knuckles across her cheek. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
I deal with the condom first, then walk to her bathroom on unsteady legs. I find a washcloth and run it under warm water, then come back to the bed. She watches me with soft eyes as I climb back beside her.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Taking care of you.” I part her thighs gently and press the warm cloth against her, cleaning her up with slow, careful strokes. She hisses slightly at the contact—she’s swollen and sensitive—but then sighs, relaxing into the mattress.
“That feels nice,” she whispers.
“Good.” I take my time, gentle and thorough, and when I’m done I toss the cloth toward the bathroom and lie back down beside her. She immediately curls into my side, her head on my chest, her leg thrown over mine. Like she belongs there. Like we’ve been doing this for years instead of hours.
I wrap my arm around her and pull her closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You need anything? Water? Food?”
She shakes her head against my chest. “Just this. Just you.”
Something warm spreads through my chest at her words. I tighten my arm around her and trace lazy patterns on her shoulder, feeling her breathing start to slow.
I pull her closer and close my eyes, breathing in the smell of her shampoo and her sweat and the sex still hanging in the air. I think about all the reasons I told myself this couldn’t happen. All the walls I built to keep her out. All the weeks I spent convincing myself that distance was the right call.
I was an idiot. I was a complete fucking idiot.
CHAPTER 14
Emma
The view from behind is exceptional. Theo’s in jeans and nothing else, cooking me breakfast in my kitchen. His back is broad and muscled, tapering to a narrow waist, and there are faint red scratches across his shoulder blades that I definitely put there. I take a moment to appreciate my handiwork.
My body is sore in ways that make me smile. My thighs ache. My neck is definitely marked in at least two places that I’ll need to cover with a scarf or some creative hair styling. My ass is tender from his hands, and there’s a deep soreness between my legs that reminds me of every position he fucked me in, every orgasm he wrung out of me, every filthy thing he whispered in my ear.
I’ve never been fucked like that in my entire life. I’ve had good sex before. I’ve had fun sex. But I’ve never had something that stripped me bare while making me feel cherished in the same breath.
My whole life I’ve been the overachiever. The one with her shit figured out. Confident, capable, running the show in every room I walk into. And then I’d get into bed with guys my ownage and they’d either be too eager to please in all the wrong ways—hesitant, asking permission for every move like I might shatter—or they’d be selfish assholes who treated my body like a means to their own end.
Either way,Iended up directing traffic. Running the show there, too, when all I really wanted was for a man to just take over. To make me stop thinking for once in my damn life. Theo did that. And somehow, surrendering to him made me feel more powerful than I’ve ever felt in my life. Because I’m the one who made him lose control. I made him forget all those gentlemanly, responsible-dad instincts and fuck me like he’d die if he didn’t.
Every lackluster orgasm I’ve ever faked just got avenged. Turns out the secret ingredient was a man who isn’t intimidated by a woman who knows what she wants.
I stretch before dragging myself out of bed. His flannel is crumpled on the floor near my dresser, abandoned at some point during round two or maybe three, and I pull it on. The fabric is soft and worn, hitting me mid-thigh, and it smells like him. I walk barefoot to the kitchen and lean against the counter to watch him work.
He’s already found the eggs, the butter, and the cheese. He glances over and sees me in his shirt, his hands still on the egg carton. “You look good in my shirt.” He abandons the eggs entirely and steps between my legs, pulling me close. His stubble scrapes against my cheek as his lips graze mine in a kiss that’s soft and slow and makes my toes curl.
