“You know what I want, Levana.” He circled my clit, his movements painstakingly slow.
He wanted me to call him sir. “Then I guess we’re both not getting what we want, are we?” Cheeky, I ground my ass against his bulging cock and he smacked my pussy hard.
“Ouch,” I yelped. As if my howl pleasured him, he did it again. “Saint,” I cried out, twisting to get away from him.
Locking my legs in place with his, he smacked it a few more times until the hurt turned weirdly pleasurable. I couldn’t stop the loud groan.
“Pain is pleasure, don’t focus on it. Feel it, let it flow through you.” He smacked it again, harder this time and embarrassingly enough I clenched my inside muscles seeking penetration as heat spread from my pussy, down to my limbs. “Did you enjoy what I did to you last night?”
“Yes,” I moaned, remembering how he’d fucked me long and hard over his kitchen counter. First with the anal vibrator then the dildo before his cock took over. I couldn’t stand by the time he finished.
“A Dom’s responsibility is to stretch and grow his submissive without taking her too far.” He slipped two fingers inside my pussy, his movements slow, mind-numbing. “I will never push you any further than where you want to go.”
I began rocking my hips trying to get more friction. “What if I don’t want to be a submissive?” Aunt Trina had explained the whole Dom/Sub relationship and some of it sounded way too painful for my liking. “I don’t want to be a sex slave.”
He chuckled and the fine hairs at my nape stood up. “A submissive volunteers her body, Levana. They are allowed to voice preferences and set limits. Slaves give up those rights completely. While there are various levels of submission, a sub still maintains a high level of control, hence the safe words.”
Sliding his arm out from under my head, he sat up, his sleep-filled eyes roving over my naked legs. Saint’s appreciation of my body came through his expression. Raw lust mixed with innate desire painted his features before he moved to kneel between my legs.
“Levana,” my name was said with a feather against skin softness. “I want you as my sub, but not at the risk of losing you.” His words were sweet but filled with a subtle hopefulness. “Remember, though, you have the power in that relationship if you submit. It’s not about you being inferior or unimportant when you bow at my feet or give in to my commands.” He ran light knuckles down my thighs, causing instant goosebumps. I shuddered against the sensations zapping every inch of my body. “In reality, a Dom only has the illusion of power. You are in control. You decide how far you take the play. Yes, there’s a pain element, but there’s so much more pleasure.”
He kissed my knees, thighs, and stomach before pulling back. Lifting my right leg, he brought my feet close to his face. His eyes on me, he kissed the arch, the heel, and my ankle before his tongue snuck out, licking each of those spots. He traced a line up to my big toe before his mouth swallowed it, sucking as I would do to his cock.
I gasped. Feeling the tingles down to my pussy. While he repeated the pleasure to the other toes, his free hand trailed feather light fingertips under my knee, down my calf, under my feet. “Saint,” I breathed, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. It should’ve tickled. It didn’t. All I felt was the need to have him fuck me. Was that weird.
He kissed my ankle and set it down. “That’s just a peek at what pleasures await, my pet.” He winked and I scowled. “Now, open your legs,” I want to eat pussy for breakfast.” He dropped his head between my legs. “Come before I tell you to, and I’ll smack your pussy until you can’t pee straight.”
“You’re an awful man,” I mumbled.
“Let’s see how awful you find me when I don’t let you come for an hour.”
I gasped before he dropped his head and began a painstakingly slow lick between my legs. True to his word, he teased me for almost an hour before letting me have an earth-shattering orgasm that left me weak kneed and sure I was hyperventilating at one point.
Later, walking around Saint’s apartment while he was on the phone, I touched his stuff, then noticed the door next to the guest bathroom. He’d once mentioned I should check it out, and I forgot about it.
I opened the door. It was dark, and I felt along the wall for a switch. I let out a low gasp when I flicked it, and the room brightened. It was a smaller version of the space we’d met in at the ritual. I walked further in, examining the table with the leather cuffs, the range of vibrators, and whips. Immediately, the thought of who he’d brought in here popped into my head since he hadn’t mentioned anything. Not sure if I was annoyed with him or myself, I let out a soft sigh and then turned to face the door. I froze mid-stride.
Saint stood there, arms crossed, his face unreadable. “What’s wrong, Snow?” I shook my head, not sure what I wanted to say. “No one’s been in here, baby, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He strode toward me, his words making me breathe easier. “When I moved here, my father had everything set up for me, this apartment, including this room, sending over my bike, my car. And I just went with it.”
“Your father set this up.” My laugh was incredulous.
Saint chuckled. “My father is the head of an ancient brotherhood, all of this you see here. He’s a ‘been there, done that’ man.”
“If you’re a rich man, why do you work?”
“Because I enjoy it. It’s a me thing, not a brotherhood or a Sinclair family heritage or dictation. I use my mind and my skill to teach others. It’s not handed down to me. It’s what I earned all on my own. I enjoy control over my life, my decisions, and my fuck-ups. And the brotherhood respects that, despite the rules. Yes, this room gives me control, but only if my partner agrees.”
“Would you ever use it.” I was treading unchartered waters here.
“Maybe. If you’re willing to try it.” He slipped an arm around my waist and cupped my chin with the other. “You’re a young girl, Levana, and I might want this with you, the submission, the hard fucking. But I also want the pink of dawn, the fire of noon, and nightfall magic with you. I want your happy and sad tears, your untainted smiles, and your delicious kisses. The citrusy smell of your hair, your skin's sweet taste, and the feather touch of your breath on my face. My hope is you’d want all of that too.” He kissed my lips softly.
“Dad, Eli,” I called out two hours later after collecting my certificate and tossing my hat with the others. They stood with Saint and another good-looking guy I hadn't met before.
“Congratulations, sweetheart.” Dad kissed my cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Saint and all,” he chuckled, earning a light laugh from the other man in my life.
“Congrats, Stitch.” Eliana hugged me. “Check out the hottie that tagged along with Saint,” she whispered in my ear.
“Behave.” Laughing, I kissed her cheek. “What about Zander?”
