My neck feels cold without his mouth on it. “No? You don’t like that?”
“No.” He’s serious. “Don’t call me that. I’m not your dad.”
“You know I don’t mean actual father, right?”
His nostrils flare, and he shakes his head. This is a boundary.
I remember what Father Francis told me today. Kaiser has baggage, some childhood trauma. Maybe something happened to him when he was a kid or to someone he knew. The thought makes my stomach cramp. I swallow against the bile filling the back of my throat.
He’s still holding me. He hasn’t fully pulled away.
“Okay,” I tell him softly, really meaning it so he knows I won’t cross that boundary again. He’s safe with me. “I’ll never say it again.”
He nods, an upward kick of his jaw, but I feel it like a heartfelt thank you.
After a moment, he returns to kissing me. He drags his lips over the wing of my collarbone, and I gasp. My breasts tingle, knowing he’s so close to putting his mouth on them. This is my reward for respecting him, and I love it.
It’s too much, but I love it. I want him to kiss me forever. It’s probably releasing oxytocin and therefore dangerous, but I don’t care.
I reach up and push a lock of hair out of his face. Just to touch him. Just to make sure he’s real. He doesn’t seem to notice I’m touching him.
“Kaiser,” I whisper.
A shudder rocks his body. His gaze snaps to mine, predatory. There’s nothing human in there. He draws back out of reach and fists his hand in my hair, hard enough to make it sting. I cry out, and it seems to excite him.
“Mine.”
He grabs the lapels of my cute little dress and rips it down the front. Yes! My limbs jerk as he shreds it further, pulling the pieces of fabric off of me. Then he maneuvers me so I’m lying on my back with my legs off the bed. His hands caress my body. He touches me like he owns me, and in this moment, he does.
“This is what happens when you disobey me,” he says.
A frisson of fear runs through me. What is he going to do?
He moves so he’s leaning over me, sets his hands on the tops of my thighs, and massages the muscles there. He digs his thumbs into the tender crease. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make me sigh with the tension he’s wringing out of my body.
Then he puts his hand on my belly, pulling the skin taut, and licks between my legs.
I try to shoot up off the bed, but he won’t let me. He slings my legs over his shoulders, lifting my bottom so I’m helpless to move. I can only watch him fasten his mouth on me. His tongue starts probing right away, tasting me deeply. It’s so fucked up, how he’s eating me like I taste delicious. His stubble scrapes against my tender skin, but the burn rolls into blissful sensations, making the pleasure more complex. His hand squeezes my bottom, and I stare into his ocean eyes.
Suddenly, I’m laughing. “This is my punishment?”
His eyes narrow. His finger presses between my bottom cheeks. Oh gods, there are nerve endings there I’ve never felt. It’s so wrong. Lighting shoots through me. His tongue lashes my clit.
He pulls away.
“No!”
“You’re right.” He wipes his mouth and licks the wetness from the back of his hand. “You’re enjoying this too much.” Oh fuck me.
He leaves the bed to grab supplies from his black bag. The duffel bag of doom.
“I thought we were going to do page 269.”
“Later. I need to train you first.” He holds up a black matte toy. “Train you to take me.”
My whimper must sound frightened because he sits down beside me and pets my thigh. “Easy. I’ll make it good for you.”
A few minutes later, he has my hands bound in front of me with hot pink rope. He wound rope around my shoulders, too, in a sort of harness that frames my breasts. But that’s not as alarming as having my hands tied. I feel so helpless. It makes my heart speed faster.
