Bound to Submit

Griffin’s eyes followed her gaze. The smile that followed was so damn sexy. “Looky there. So it is.”

“You could...you could stay. The night. Here.” Just suggesting it whipped nervous energy through her, but now that they’d found each other again, she didn’t want him to leave. At least for tonight.

“Yeah?” he asked. “I’d fucking love that.”

They got ready for bed, which mostly involved Kenna brushing her teeth, since she was already in the tank top and boxers that served as her pajamas, and Griffin stripping down to his boxers and gargling some of her mouthwash.

And then it was just them and her small double bed, which suddenly looked a whole lot smaller with the prospect of his big body filling it. Not that she minded.

“Let me get the blinds,” she said, crawling to the headboard and then reaching up from a position on her knees to grasp the wall-mounted chain.

The bed moved as Griffin’s weight sank onto the mattress and then his arms wrapped around her stomach from behind. “Hi,” he said with his mouth against her ear and his hardening cock pushing into the crease of her ass.

“Hi,” she smiled, brushing her cheek against his.

“I didn’t plan to attack you, but then you went and knelt on the bed like that and I just had to feel you.” His voice was deep with amusement and need.

“What, do you like a woman on her knees or something?” she asked with a smirk. She just barely bit back a moan when he thrust against her.

“Not any woman, Kenna. You. I love you submitting to me. It fucking slays me every time,” Griffin said, his tone full of a grit that shot need through her veins—despite the multiple orgasms he’d already given her today.

I love you submitting...

That’s what he’d said. But what her brain couldn’t stop replaying was those first three words in that raw, desperate voice. Imagining that was what he’d meant made her instantly wet. Even though she knew that was just her own fantasy.

Be careful, Kenna.

“Well, I guess that’s good, because I love submitting to you, too.” She kept the words lighthearted, not wanting him to know that she might feel them more deeply, more meaningfully. Not really ready to admit that to herself, either.

“Do you, now?” he said in a low rumble, his cock deliciously hard against her ass.

“Mmhmm.” She grinded back against him, getting hotter by the second.

“Fuck, baby. What do you want?” His hands roamed over the front of her. Grasping her breasts, squeezing her hips, sliding down her thighs. “Because right now I might sell my soul for the privilege of getting inside you again.”

“Yes, Griffin. God, yes.” Her hand dropped to her waist band, pushing it down on one side. Griffin tugged at the other, and together, they worked her boxers and panties off. And then he bared himself.

“Let me get a condom, Kenna.”

“No,” she said, grabbing his wrist. “Like this. Just like this.” She knew him well enough to know how careful he was, and she was still on birth control despite not having been with anyone in years. And all the Masters at Blasphemy regularly got tested and, outside of committed relationships, only had intercourse with protection.

“Jesus, are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said. “I want you in me. Only you.”

He boxed her in against the headboard and slipped his hand between her legs. “Are you ready for me then?” His fingers found and spread her wetness, dipping inside her pussy and drawing it out. “Aw, fuck, yes you are.”

“Griffin,” she moaned.

“Yeah, Kenna. You want it, don’t you?”

“God, yes.”

“And you need me to give it to you, right? Tell me I’m right,” he growled against her ear.

“Oh, yes. I need you in me,” she moaned.

“Then spread those knees and let me in,” he said, bumping against her ass with his fist as he grabbed his cock. And then his head was right there, lining up with her pussy and sinking deep and slow inch by inch. “Aw, fucking hell, Kenna. How did I ever live without this?”

She shook her head, speechless for a moment at the fullness of the invasion. His cock was thick, long, intense, and overwhelming—and so good that Kenna could barely breathe. She grabbed onto the headboard with her only hand, needing support, needing an anchor.