“This isn’t a courtship. It isn’t flowers and dinner. This is you waking up one morning and realizing you’re marked. You’re not just seen. You’re claimed. And you become the axis I turn on. Every time you close your eyes, I’ll be closer than the air you breathe.”
A trembling breath over the line. “But I don’t know you. Not even your name. Or what kind of person you are.”
“You will eventually.”
Another pause. Then her voice returns, trembling.
“And if I say yes to this?”
A slow smile spreads across my face. She’s cracking open beautifully.
“I’ll watch until the moment’s right. One minute you’ll be alone. Next, you’ll be mine. I’ll find you in the quiet when your guard is down. And then I’ll be there. Behind you. Breath on your neck. Fingers at your throat. That’s what saying yes to me means, Laurette. It means giving up control and letting me in.”
She’s silent on the other end. No argument. No breath. Just the sound of her taking it all in.
I go on. “It means I slip into your nights. Into your thoughts. Into your body. Into the places no one has dared to touch. It means you’ll sense me before you ever see me. And from that moment forward, it’s not just your life anymore.”
A beat.
“It’s ours.”
The line stays quiet, but I hear her swallow.
“I’m supposed to be okay with you crossing lines, slipping in unexpectedly, invading my life whenever you like?”
“You don’t have to be entirely okay with it. Fear is allowed. Flinching, too. Hell, fight me if that’s what turns you on. I won’t harm you, Laurette. But I’ll break you open in the ways you’ve secretly craved. And you’ll love every second. Because I’ll push you beyond everything you’ve experienced, into places you’ve never dared imagine.”
“You’ll break me… but not harm me?”
“Never harm. I’ll unravel you slowly. Exquisitely. Every break will be for your pleasure.”
“You want to fuck me?”
I want to pin her wrists above her head and watch panic and need fight for dominance in her eyes. I want to drag my mouth down her throat, bite her shoulder, bruise her hips with the weight of wanting her. I want to see her beg without shame. For more. For harder. For whatever I decide to give. I want to tease her until she forgets her own name, then make her scream mine like a prayer and a curse.
But I don’t say all that.
Not yet.
A low sound rumbles in my chest. I lean back against the counter and let the full weight of my hunger bleed into my voice.
“Fucking you is only one of many things I plan on doing.”
My voice drops.
“I’ll own every breath, every twitch of your thighs. I’ll learn your rhythms—what makes you gasp, what makes you break. You’ll ache in places you didn’t know could experience pleasure.”
Another pause. Breathless now. “I’m not ready for that. And I’m not sure when or if I ever will be.”
“I’ll never force you, Laurette. Unless that’s what you want.”
“What does that mean?” Her voice is low. “Force me because it’s what I want?”
“Yeswill always mean yes.Nowill always mean no. But for everything in between, there will be a cue. A word or phrase of our choosing. One that tells me your fight is part of the dance. That you’re still with me. Still hungry. Still consenting.”
“A signal that means I want this, but I’m going to fight you?”
“Exactly. A phrase only we understand. One that gives you room to struggle because that’s how you want it, while still telling me you’re in it willingly. It’s your verbal consent, Laurette. Coded and clear. Yours to give and mine to obey.”
