“You have an amazing pussy,” he says. “I can’t get enough of it. Your intoxicating flavor, the softness, the pinkish purple color. And God, the wetness. It’s all so beautiful.”
I want to answer him. I want to tell him how beautiful he is, too. Then I want to beg for a climax. But I don’t. He hasn’t given me permission to speak.
Which, though it bothers me, also makes me feel something contrary to what it should.
Relieved?
Perfect?
What exactly do I feel when I surrender my control to Braden, the man I love?
Liberated. I feel fucking liberated.
Which makes no sense, since I’ve given up control.
I close my eyes, reveling in his fingers and tongue sweeping over my most private parts. Then he stops. Abruptly stops, but somewhere in the haze of my emotion, I hear his belt clinking, his zipper unzipping.
Then he’s inside me, pumping, pumping, pumping…
Taking me with the part of his body that gives me the most intense pleasure I’ve ever known. He pushes hard, thrusts harder, and finally my clit collides against the wood, beginning to create what I need—
Until he grips my hips and pulls me forward, preventing the friction I crave so badly.
He’s still determined. Determined not to let me have a climax.
I whimper, and I moan. It’s a loss I feel deeply, yet still he’s inside me, filling me, completing me.
And he does complete me. He completes me so well.
I love you, Braden.
The words whiz through my head, landing in the back of my throat, wanting so desperately to spring forth.
I hold them back. I cannot force them out. His will over me is that strong.
His control over me no longer frightens me. No. Now, as I delight in each thrust, I realize the truth.
I desire his control. I fucking yearn for it. As contrary as it sounds, I find freedom in it.
Finally he releases, falling onto my bare back and groaning. A drip of sweat from his forehead trickles down my neck.
He holds himself in place for a moment, and I revel in our joining.
When he withdraws, he caresses both globes of my ass. “Every time with you is better than the last, Skye. Every damned time.”
I nod. He still hasn’t given me permission to speak.
“I have so many plans for us. Now that you’ve given me control in the darkness. But I also need your trust.”
I do trust you. I wouldn’t have been able to give up control if I didn’t.
But again, the words stay in my head.
He hasn’t given me permission to speak.
I can play this game as well as he does. I will not speak until he tells me I may, which means he also won’t get the full surrender he’s seeking.
Normally, he lets me speak by now. Has he forgotten his command? Doesn’t matter. I will not speak.
“I never planned to fall in love,” he says after a minute, his voice rumbling against my skin. “I don’t have time for love, Skye. I probably won’t be the kind of boyfriend you need or deserve. And of course, marriage is always out of the question.”
Something squeezes my heart. Marriage? I’m twenty-four. I haven’t given marriage a thought, but of course, somewhere in the back of my head, I figured I’d get married someday.
A sense of loss fills me. Do I want to marry Braden? His statement leaves a lump in my throat.
Still, I don’t speak despite my desire to begin an argument about marriage.
We haven’t known each other long. Marriage is far in the future anyway. Still, I’d like to think it’s an eventual possibility.
I swallow the words and feelings and stay quiet.
“You may get dressed now,” Braden says as he stands.
His warmth leaves me, and coolness drifts over my back. I rise from my position on the desk. My hips are stiff from staying bent over for so long.
My bustier is useless shreds of leather now. But I don the rest of my clothes. Now what? He still hasn’t given me permission to speak, so I’m adamant.
I will not speak.
I wait.
I wait for his instructions, but instead of giving me any, he zips up his pants and buckles his belt. Stoic Braden has returned. Will he kick me out?
No, he won’t. He told me he would never kick me out of his place again, and I can’t see Braden breaking a promise, short of ending our relationship altogether.
Of course, he nearly ended it today at his office.
So again, now what?
I continue to wait for his instruction.
It doesn’t come. Instead, he says, “I’m exhausted, and I have an early meeting in the morning. Good night, Skye.”
He leaves the office, closing the door behind him.
Be ready for anything.
This is what he planned? To abandon me? What about his earlier text?
Everything’s ready for tonight. Are you?
Of course, that was before…
Now what? Am I supposed to stay here? Spend the night in his office?