Sweetest Mistress (Fem Dom 1)

“You don’t have a condom?” she asked.

Biting my tongue back from suggesting some sort of saran wrap concoction, I shook my head.

“It’s okay. I have a box somewhere.”

A box? She had a box of them? Christ, yes. That’s what I was talking about. Fuck yeah to feminism or Sex in the City or whatever it was that had made it okay for women to stock condoms.

She got up off the floor and rummaged around – butt naked, by the way, and I thoroughly enjoyed the jiggling of certain body parts as she reached into the cabinets – producing a box of condoms. I didn’t even bother to check the size, because hell, these were going on one way or another.

And thankfully, in those few minutes, I’d gotten back some of my head, the bigger one. I could lead her over to the bed like a gentleman. I could ask her to lie down for me, face up, the way a gentleman fucks. And I could roll on a condom and slide between her thighs like…well, like a guy who needed to fuck, and fast.

I slid in and – ahhh – began thrusting immediately, not giving her time to adjust or reject me. Just in, out, in out. Angles, my rational mind said. I had to be realistic. I wasn’t going to be able to last that long, so I had to hit the right angles to make her come. Kissing, also. Women liked kissing. I wasn’t sure it actually made them come faster, but hell, I was desperate.

So I kissed her, sliding my tongue into her mouth in tandem with my dick in her pussy. She moaned, and I took that as a positive sign, at least until my dick surged. I tamped it down.

And her hands, they were so good. Too fucking good. They slid up my torso and around to my ass. They rifled through my hair, tugging gently. All of it was too much, so I stopped them. I caught each of her hands in mine and dragged them up above her head. I pressed gently – stay – and drew my hands back down to breasts.

“You never told me what you liked.”

I froze mid-thrust. “What?”

A sheen of sweat coated her face, and her mouth was still wrecked, wet from my kisses and my cock, but she said, “You asked what I liked. You never told me what you liked.”

“I like this,” I said.

She shook her head on the pillow. “It doesn’t feel right.”

What the hell did that mean? Angles, probably.

“It feels like you’re doing what you think I want,” she said. “If I’m wrong, you can tell me that, but I don’t need you to do this for me.”

Well, shit. She was right. I mean, I was doing this because I thought she liked it. But that’s what women wanted, wasn’t it? That had always been my experience. She wanted me to use her however I wanted, so long as I did it right. And that meant fucking her right while acting the gentleman, some sort of magic blend that I could never hope to achieve.

Women weren’t ever interested in my fantasies, in what I really wanted.

But what if she was? It was crazy, but then this whole night was. And as much as I liked her – and liked fucking her – well, she was still a stranger. And then that meant I could open up, maybe, and even if she laughed in my face, I wouldn’t have to see her again.

It wasn’t quite as simple as that. If she laughed in my face, I’d feel like shit. And technically, she knew Joanna, and that shit could come back to bite me.

Still, those brown eyes called to me, promising not to hurt me, willing me to believe she actually cared.

I sat back on my heels, unable to fuck her, to be inside her, while I said this.

“Look,” I said. “What we did until now was really great. I enjoyed it and – what am I saying? – it was really fucking great, okay? I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, if I say that my fantasy is something different.”

“Hey,” she said, placing her hand on my arm. “It’s okay. I believe you when you tell me you liked it. You don’t have to defend yourself to me.”

I didn’t? I mean, when she said it like that, it seemed so obvious. But it hadn’t been like that before, not with other women and definitely not with my ex. Who I didn’t want to think about at all, but hell, I was. She’d said the same things as Melissa. She wanted me to be in control, she wanted me to use her however I wanted, except that was a lie. She just wanted me to read her mind, and that wasn’t the same thing at all.

I took a deep breath and took the plunge. “I’ve never actually done it, but I’ve always thought about what it would be like to be…sp

anked.”

Chapter Three

I waited for the horror or more likely the derision. I was supposed to be a man. Maybe not the strongest or the most manly man, but a man nonetheless. I made decent money and watched sports on Sundays. I wasn’t supposed to want to be spanked, but I did. I had for as long as I could remember, jerking off to schoolboy fantasies in my head. And now I’d just outed myself to a relative stranger.

“Just thought about it?” she asked, her voice curious, not condemning.