Page 317 of A Vicious Love

Her face flushed, but she didn’t look away. “People really do that?”

“Yes.”

“And it doesn’t ruin it?”

“No, baby.” I bent and kissed her wrist. “It makes it safer to go further.”

She took that in with a tiny breath.

I watched the understanding begin to form. Sienna had spent years thinking safety meant making herself easy. Now I was asking for a color while kneeling beside her with my cock hard and she was trying to reconcile that with every terrible little lesson society had handed her in silk gloves.

“I don’t want to make it less…” She searched for the word and blushed harder. “Intimate.”

I gave a low laugh, because if I didn’t, the tenderness in my chest might become visible and ruin my reputation.

“You think my asking whether you’re still safe under me makes it less intimate?”

“It sounds silly when you say it that way.”

“It was silly before I said it.”

She frowned at me, but the corner of her mouth moved.

Good.

I wanted her here with me, not floating toward some obedient little version of herself who lay still because she thought that was what women did.

I lowered my mouth to her jaw. “I want your color because I want your trust awake. You choosing me through every step. I want to feel you give me more and know you gave it because you wanted to, not because I made the room too heavy for you to say otherwise.”

Her fingers tightened around my wrist.

“Every time I ask,” I said against her skin, “I’m saying, you’re still in control, baby. Even under me, with my hand on your throat one day. When you call me Daddy and let me take over. I still answer to you.”

“You answer to me?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“But you’re…” Her gaze moved over me, my shoulders, my chest, the tattoos, the size difference she had already declared a mathematical impossibility. “You.”

“I know what I am.”

Her fingers slipped from my wrist to my palm, threading through mine. “And you’d stop?”

“Before you finished the word.”

I kissed her, slowly. Her hand stayed in mine. When I drew away, her eyes were steadier. I brushed her hair from her face. “Color?”

“Green.”

“That’s my good girl.” I touched her face, thumb brushing over her lower lip. “Open for me.”

Her mouth parted. I leaned in close, guiding myself with my hand, \controlled despite every nerve in my body demanding otherwise.

“Only the head,” I said. “Nothing more. You don’t have to take all of me.”

Her eyes lifted to mine.

I stroked her cheek. “Just let me feel your mouth, baby.”