Her dark laugh is a warning shot down my spine, and she grazes my balls with her sharp fingernails before continuing almost immediately with lighter teasing strokes. “So itisjust as good, then? You don’t even need my real pussy anymore?”
“No, Ma’am! It’s not…ugh,it’s not as warm or wet, but it feels like you. Gonna come!”
My breaks are shorter and shorter, and I’m barely lasting for a few touches of her hand, mouth, or toy before I’m forced to warn her of my impending release.
“You’ve done so well for me tonight.Sucha good boy. I think I’ll reward you. It’s almost time for you to come. Where would you like to? In the toy or all over me?”
Oh fuck.Just pick one. I can barely even think of my own name right now, let alone make a decision with three amazing options…shit. “Uhh, in the toy.Please.Please, please let me come, Ma’am. I can’t take any more.”
“Hmm. I think you can takemuchmore. And you will for me soon. But very well. You have permission to come.”
Hearing those sweet words is all I need, and I’m off, soaring into space and imploding in on myself like a dying star. I’ve never felt anything like this. A release of tension I’ve held in my body for hours, followed by blinding pleasure and warm static in my brain. If I thought I was floating before, it’s nothing compared to this.
“Solnyshko, it’s okay. You did so well for me. I’m very, very proud of you.” Mila’s voice sounds far away, but I try to swim toward her through my gooey consciousness. When I finally make it to her, my arms and legs have been freed, but I’m still sitting in my chair.
“Thatcher, look at me. Can you see me?” She sounds concerned, and I don’t understand why, until it hits me all at once. Shaking like a leaf, I do as she says and raise my head to look into her beautiful blue eyes. She looks ready to do anything I need, and I swear her gaze is full…I try to speak but burst into tears instead, sobs wracking my body as I try to figure out what I’m feeling. All I can do is nod.
“Okay, good. Can I touch you?”
Of course you can touch me, I try to say. Please, always touch me.Instead, I just nod again.
“Alright. We’re going to walk to the bathroom. Does that sound good? I’ve already drawn us a bath, and the jets are on.” Once I give one more weak nod, she puts one of my arms around her shoulders and helps me stand. A smaller woman wouldn’t be able to help me like this, but not my Mila. She’s plenty strong enough to help me when I need it.
Our bath is quiet, and she murmurs soothing nonsense as she rubs each of my sore muscles, feeds me, and towels me off after the water’s cooled. I let her lead me to abed with no resistance, finally feeling relaxed enough that I have no doubt I’m about to pass out into a deep sleep. Between all the pleasure she gave me tonight and all the ways she pushed me, I’ve felt what seems like every emotion in the book.
But as she turns out the light and slides into bed with me, I wonder if there might just be a few more waiting inside me, less deeply buried than ever before.
Chapter 21
My alarm wakesme from my sleep, where I was dreaming about…Damnit, why am I still in a cocoon?I shimmy to get loose, but I can’t move. All my wiggling does is make my entrapment tighter, and is that something sticking in my…My eyes shoot open. I’ve let a man sleep in my bedagain. His dick twitches, and I’m preparing to quite literally kick this motherfucker out of my bed, but instead of grinding it against me, he adjusts so that it won’t poke me anymore.
My good fucking boy.
For the first time in my life, I’m not mortified at the thought of waking up with someone. It’s actually…nice. A glance at the clock tells me I have another fifteen minutes before I need to get up for the morning, so I hit my snooze and melt into Thatcher’swarm body. Heaven knows that after everything I put him through last night, he deserves this.
Closing my eyes, I replay everything that transpired between us last night. The way he obeyed, how blissful he was when I finally allowed his release, and even how vulnerable he was during his drop. For his first time, he did outstanding. It’s not an uncommon occurrence to see a man under as much pressure as he is to enjoy being dominated, but this was different. I’ve been in the lifestyle long enough to tell the difference between someone who likes to play here and there and someone whoneedsit. He’s the latter. After we talked through his experience a bit during our bath, I became more convinced than ever that Thatcher Prescott was born to be a submissive—even if he doesn’t realize it yet.
My blaring alarm pulls me from my recollection, and I pry myself from the warm arms that surround me. I wouldn’t normally allow someone to touch me like this, but when Thatcher fell asleep during our approved cuddle time, I didn’t want to move him. My little sunshine lets out a whimper, and I can’t fight the smile on my face as I place a pillow in his arms. Ialmostwish it were me, still cocooned in bed, feeling that glorious cock already ready for another round.
I guess we’re having a cold shower today since I have to go out and run a fucking Bratva, and I’m currently jealous of a goddamn pillow. Jesus, fuck.
Luckily, my cold shower does the trick, and I’m back to myself. As always, I run through my schedule in my head while I wait for my morning tea to arrive. My days here have been pretty mundane. All I’ve had time for is a never-ending stream of meetings and “team building” activities, as Misha calls them. The idea that my day could conclude with stress relief that involves more than liquor and a warm bath is sublime.
My moment of joy dissolves as Thatcher flings the door open, ruining my peace. “Good morning! How was your shower? I brought your tea as instructed but thought you might want to eat breakfast in your room this morning since you slept in a bit—”
“Please tell me you didn’t make me breakfast again.” I don’t want to be a bitch about it, but I’m not eating his subpar, low-calorie shit when we employ a world-class chef who monitors my macros.
He laughs as he sets the tray on the side table. “No, don’t worry, I learned my lesson the first time. This is from the kitchen. I just asked the chef to plate your breakfast. I even requested extras in case you want seconds.”
Oh, thank God.
“Thank you, that’s very kind.”
I prepare my meal, doctoring my morning tea and cutting up the meat and potatoes on the plate. I don’t know what I expected Thatcher to do. Perhaps leave, or at least eat his breakfast with me, but when I glance up, he’s sitting across from mestaring.
“What are you doing?”
He fiddles with his thumbs, an annoying nervous tic we will have to work out soon if we are to continue our arrangement. “I don’t actually know what to do. On top of this dynamic being different from anything I’ve ever experienced, I, um, don’t typically wake up next to the same woman more than once.”
