"Yes."
The word is a low, satisfied purr, a dark, delicious thrill that runs through me, making my pussy clench around his cock.
"But I'm not going to make you," he says, his voice a low, velvety purr. "You have to want to."
The words land like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs.
He doesn't want me to surrender to his power, his needs.
He wants me to surrender tomyneeds.
His needs just happen to counter mine.
The realization is a stunning, terrifying, exhilarating thing.
All at once, the fight drains out of me.
The anger, the frustration, the shame. It all melts away, leaving a raw, desperate need in its wake.
A need to be free.
Free of the expectations, the rules, the fear of not being enough.
Free to be the woman he sees in me.
The woman I'm just now starting to see in myself.
I reach up, my hands cupping his face, my fingers tracing the hard line of his jaw.
I bring him in for a kiss, my tongue tracing his lips, a silent invitation.
He kisses me back, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, a slow, deliberate, intoxicating dance.
His body presses into mine, the thick length of him a delicious pressure inside me.
This isn't a fight.
This is a surrender. But not to him.
A surrender to the truth.
I want him. I want this.
"Please, Sir," I whisper, the words soft and fragile. "I need you to take me. Whatever you want. However you want it."
The second the words leave my lips, a wave of relief washes over me so intense it's dizzying.
I've said it.
I've crossed the line.
There's no going back. This time, there's no hiding behind the auction or the circumstances of that night. I am doing this of my own free will. My own choice.
And it feels... right.
His dark eyes, so intense and fathomless, soften with a flicker of something that looks a lot like... pride.
"Good girl," he murmurs, and the praise sends a fresh wave of desire through me.
