Of course. And I want to see it again.
But he didn't invite me to his apartment. And I'm afraid to ask.
I'm not ready to be there, in his space, in his life. To see if he lives in the same apartment or someplace grander. To see if the room is filled with touches of his ex-fiancée or completely barren. To see if he's made a separate room for me or if he expects me to sleep in his bed.
"The partition blocks sound. But if you want more privacy." He motions to a stereo system.
I nod.
He taps the screen a few times. The area fills with a familiar electronic sound.
Depeche Mode.
The album I picked out the first time he fucked me.
He remembers.
My chest warms. My stomach flutters. My head fills with ideas. Ideas I can't afford.
This isn't love. This is sex.
That's all.
I suck a breath through my teeth. Turn toward him. So my knee brushes the outside of his thigh. "It's been a long time for me."
He nods with understanding.
"What was it you said three years ago? That you'd ruin me for other men."
His eyes go wide. He forgot. Or didn't think I remembered.
"You were right." I arch my back, pushing my chest forward. My breasts strain against the stiff fabric of my dress. This isn't a neckline designed for movement. More for him pulling the straps off my shoulders. "No one else compares. No one ever will."
He studies me, all softness and curiosity, then he swallows and the softness disappears. He changes into that other version of Ty.
The one only I know.
The one I imagine when I stroke myself to orgasm.
"Take off your knickers." His voice shifts too. Still steady and in control. But dripping with equal parts need and demand.
I press my knees together, lift my hips, slide my panties off my feet.
"The dress too." His voice stays that steady, in control tone. "Now."
"Help me." I turn so my back is to him.
His fingers skim the zipper, then he pulls it down, all the way to the small of my back.
He traces its line back up my spine. Then down again. Even more softly. So softly I can barely feel his touch.
Fuck, that feels good. Too good.
He's being gentle with me.
Too gentle.
I can't take that. I can't take the romantic implications.
I need rough to keep my head straight.
I need him to take control.
How can I give him more control?
Everything in my life is dictated by someone else. The mortgage my parents signed. The aid colleges offer. The dress code at work.
But that's different.
I don't ask assholes from the bank to control me.
I don't give them permission.
With Ty—
I do.
Ty traces the line again. Only harder. Harder. Until there's no tenderness.
Only promise.
"You remember your safe word?" he asks.
My breath catches in my throat. "Will I need it?"
"You'll always need it."
Because it's sensible to be ready to stop? Or because he's going to push me constantly? I'm not sure.
"Indigo." His voice is impatient. "Do you remember?"
Of course I remember. "Azure," I whisper.
In response, he hooks his fingers around the strap of my dress and pushes it off my shoulder.
The right. Then the left.
My breasts spill from the fabric. His hands find them immediately. He pulls me into his lap, so my back is against his chest, my ass against his cock.
He's hard. I can feel him through his slacks. It wakes something inside me. Some primal sense I've forgotten.
I need him. I need him so badly.
"Ty," I breathe. "Please."
He brings his lips to my neck. Places a tender kiss there.
It's soft, so soft I can barely feel it.
Then harder.
The hint of his teeth.
"Your hair is shorter now." His teeth scrape my neck. "Do I need to worry about bruises?"
Does he need to what? I try to find the thread of my thoughts, but they're unspooled. I'm a puddle of desire.
My neck. Bruises. Should he worry about leaving a mark?
No. I don't want to worry about anything. Only about obeying his commands.
"I have makeup," I say.
"Is it enough? You bruise easily."
"You remember that?"
"I remember everything."
It's too sweet. Too much. Too close to I love you. "Send me a scarf, then. I'll figure it out."
He scrapes his teeth against my neck again. Softly. "I've wanted to do this since I saw you." He brushes my hair behind my ear. Traces the line it leaves against my chin. "Your haircut drives me out of my mind." He bites me again, a little harder. "Like you're offering your neck to me."
"Ty…"
He slips his hand around my neck. Cups my chin. Holds me in place as he scrapes his teeth against my flesh. "You want me to bite you, baby?"
"Yes."
"Yes, sir."
My sex clenches. We didn't do that before, but now it's the only thing I want. "Yes, sir."
He does. Softly to start. Then harder. Harder.
Hard enough I groan.