I can’t hide my scars forever, but I can try to savor what time we have together. If I’m going to be heartbroken regardless, I should earn that pain with as much joy as I can muster.
So that’s what I do.
I surrender and allow my fate to carry me where it will.
D kisses me for endless seconds. His claim brands me on the inside, etching his initials into my soul with every masterful sweep of his tongue.
When he pulls away, we’re both breathless.
“Take off your panties and give them to me.” His gravelly words shock and arouse me to the point of freezing.
“What?” I glance up over his shoulder at the security camera.
He brings his cheek to mine so that his lips are close to my ear. “Trust me, firefly. I won’t ever expose you or harm you. But I will give you instructions, and I expect you to follow them without question. Is that understood?” Each word oozes with reassuring authority.
Desire pulses like a bass drum in my core.
I reach under my dress and slide off my black satin panties, then hand them to him. “I knew you’d be perfect,” he murmurs. To my amazement, he brings the scrap of fabric to his nose and takes a long, languorous sniff of my panties, his nostrils flaring.
My heart trips and stumbles.
“What happens next is,” he continues, “I’m going to feed you lunch, then have you for dessert. And you’re going to be my perfect angel and do exactly as I say. Are you ready?”
I nod because I’m incapable of speech.
I knew D liked control when it came to sex. That was easy enough to tell when he had me on my knees the first time we were intimate. This side of him feels like more than that. I’ve read about Dominants. I’m not sure that’s what this is, but it feels like something along those lines. It’s not at all what I expected, yet I’m starving for more.
A predatory smile teases his lips as he restarts the elevator, his arm reaching out at the last second, pulling me into his side to steady me from the sudden movement. Having my body pressed against his has me famished for something, and it’s not food. Regardless, he’s true to his word and takes us right to the kitchen once we’re home. He washes his hands, piles a single plate full of leftovers, then leads me to the dining table.
“Wait.” His command stops me as I begin to pull out a chair for myself. “You’re sitting here.” He sits in his chair and pats his lap.
A rose gold sunset of color heats my cheeks.
He wants me to sit on his lap while we eat … without any panties?
Holy freaking hotness, yes.
I scoot myself into place across his legs. His hand rests on my thigh, inching ever so slightly up beneath the edge of my dress. The touch feels taboo and naughty in the very best way. D has me feeling like a college student being seduced by her professor.
I wonder at first if this is some sort of fantasy play, but I get the sense this is the real D. He’s not pretending to be in control. He is the embodiment of authority. This is who he is behind closed doors when he’s most comfortable.
I’m utterly spellbound.
His absolute confidence puts me at ease in ways I’ve not experienced.
So long as I am his, I am safe.
“Pasta or fruit?” he asks, his voice a mesmerizing rumble of distant thunder.
“The grapes, please.”
He holds a single grape between his fingers. I wrap my lips around his offering, slowly pulling the green globe into my mouth.
“Jesus, you do things to me that shouldn’t be possible.” He adjusts in his seat, accentuating the ridge of his thick cock as it presses against my hip.
“I think I know how you feel,” I reply in a husky voice.
A primal growl rumbles deep in his chest.
