A small sound rolls to the tip of her tongue when I slide my finger down to her entrance and tap it gently above her warmth. The position has her pussy closed up and plump. She’s still gone, but she begins pulsing under my touch, the first sign of her body easing back to life.
“There’s my sweet little angel,” I say, praising her, kissing the top of her head. I want to look down so badly, to take these covers off of her and see her gorgeous pussy. But this isn’t about me, and frankly, I’m not in the mood to fuck her. I want to love her, give her all the care and tenderness she needs.
Fresh tears run past her already wet eyelashes as she fists my T-shirt and clutches it tight. She searches my eyes, worry reading in hers, and I smile. I’m so proud of her for snapping out of her thoughts, if only for a few seconds.
“That’s right, Dove. You don’t need to think when you’re with me. I’ll think for you. All you have to do is stay still and take my fingers in your pussy the way you’re supposed to.”
“I c-can’t…” She chokes on a sob and I hush her, hand on her pussy and lips on top of her head.
“You know I always take what I want.” I slide my middle finger inside her, finding her wetness and bringing it to the surface when I pull out. She cries harder, but her pussy relaxes around me. “My pretty little angel doesn’t get a say without her safe word. You know that. So let me take care of you.”
Whatever Dove went through, it’s my job to fix it for her. Last night on the ride back, Cole said she might need therapy. But I disagree. What she needs isn’t to cry about her feelings with someone who doesn’t give a fuck about her. She can do that inmyarms. While I finger her. Until she moans through her tears and the pleasure replaces her pain.
I bring my hand from around her knees and pull her panties down to her ankles, then bring her knees up one more time, spreading them on either side of her frail body, opening herpussy fully. She’s still hidden under the covers, but fuck, I can imagine what it must look like right now.
Pink. And plump. And slick with arousal. Like a ripe fruit needing to be probed with my hand.
“Give me all your pain, Dove. Let me in so I can take what hurts and make it feel good again.”
I breathe out, slowly and controlled, while tracing the lines of her swollen clit with the pad of my finger. She hides her face from me, turning it to the right where I can’t see her eyes. But I gently bring her chin back and lean down to brush my lips against hers.
A whimper slips past her mouth, getting slightly louder when I open her up with my tongue to find hers. She’s there, warm and unmoving, letting me caress her. I slide my fingers down her clit again and push past her lips, entering her. I groan into her mouth, licking her tongue in slow, rhythmic motions while I finger-fuck her.
Then her hips writhe. Her body moves deeper into mine. And her sobs quiet down, replaced by those little whimpers I love so much. Out of nowhere, her tongue moves timidly, taking space into my mouth.
There you are.
It takes my fucking breath away. I still for just a moment, feeling her all over me. Her scent in my lungs. Her tongue in my mouth. Her pussy on my fingers. I’m so fucking thankful she’s here and that she’s alive… I almost shudder at the thought that I could’ve lost her.
Her breathing deepens, her chest pushing the covers up and down. I add another finger, curling them both upward deep inside. She pulses everywhere, her heart now beating between her legs. I pump my fingers in and out with short, rapid movements. I never bring them out fully, wanting to stay inside her when she comes.
“You’re making me so very proud, angel,” I mumble against her mouth. “You know how much I love this little cunt. You know what it does to me, don’t you?”
She nods, her face burning hot against mine, but I know it’s not her fever this time.
“Is my pretty girl too empty-headed to use her words right now?”
Another nod.
Her hips writhe some more and then, with a sharp cry, her body locks in, shuddering around my fingers, legs twitching and pussy clenching so tight around me that my cock fucking hurts from being so strained against my pants. I praise her some more, my body roaring to life at knowing what’s waiting for me under those covers. Not to fuck her, no. Not today, and maybe not for a long time. But to taste her—oh, God, to taste her again…
“Thank you,” she says, hushed, her breathing pattern a mess.
I smile, looking at her pretty and flushed face. “Don’t thank me yet, Dove. You’re going to take these covers off of you now and show me your pussy. I’ll lick you until it’s clean again. Andthenyou can thank me when I’m satisfied.”
Her eyes avoid mine, brows drawn together and lips parted to ease her small exhale out. I slap her thigh gently, enough to bring her attention back to the present moment and take her out of her head. When she looks at me, I praise her, showing her I want her here, not back in the dreadful past.
“Nothing else exists for you right now. Just me and my command.”
seventeen
Dove
When he’s done cleaning me up with his tongue, Rowan cradles me in his arms and lets me cry some more. The way he takes care of me always takes me by surprise, though I’d be lying if I said it didn’t help take my mind off my pain for a little while. I resisted it at first, knowing I didn’t deserve the pleasure—not this time. But the more he talked me through it and the more he praised me into submission, the more my mind sought his control. I had no choice but to let go of my morbid thoughts.
Like an addict seeking numbness through whatever drug they can get their hands on, I craved Rowan’s dominance and I let him bring me into the scene with him. Because the truth is… our dynamic heals me in ways I never thought I could be healed, and it has been ever since he reached out to me. I’m thinking he may actually know me better than I know myself. He knows when my mind is elsewhere and knows exactly how to bring me back to him. He can sense when I can’t keep up with my worries, and as he put it, he’s there to do all the thinking for me. Thefeminist in me isn’t even upset over this. Because my submission is voluntary, and Rowan would never take advantage of it.
Minutes pass in his arms. When my tears dry out, I pull away from him, hesitantly, finding the strength to come back to the real world. To ask the one question I’ve been too afraid to ask. I haven’t given myself permission to think that my mom might be gone—I knew the thought would make me actually lose my mind, so I just convinced myself that she had made it. But my anxiety grows too strong, too overwhelming to believe my lies anymore.
