Dean’s question lingers in the air between us.
There’s no lying. Not here. Not between us. Definitely not while he’s worrying my nipples between his chiseled lips, dragging his tongue over them in long, slightly obscene licks. “Yes, I’ve thought of it,” I whimper, my sex constricting in time with my confession.
His mouth pauses momentarily, his gaze sharpening on my face. “Charlotte,” he breathes, brushing a thumb back and forth over my right nipple. “I’d sensed that, but I wasn’t sure.” He moves higher on my body, his mouth snagging mine in a long, drawn out kiss that has my toes curling into the carpet. “I’ll be your sir, sweetheart. I’ll be your ruler,” he says in between bouts of devouring me. “You trust me to know exactly what you need?”
“Physically, yes. Only.”
This is dangerous.
There’s a whisper in the back of my mind telling me so.
Telling me that surrendering my body to the doctor is a gateway drug that will lead to places I didn’t anticipate. But my need to be dominated by him overrides that voice. Smashes it to smithereens. He wants my trust and there’s an unfamiliar calling inside of me to give it to him. This man, only. Completely.
“But…” I say when he allows me to come up for air. “I don’t…I don’t even know what I need, Dean. I’ve never done this before.”
At first he seems confused, but after a few seconds there’s a dawning understanding. Followed by what can only be described as a predatory satisfaction. “You’re a virgin.” He runs his eyes down the front of my body, as if seeing it again for the first time, his chest rising and falling at an increasing pace. “You’re my virgin.”
“Yes, sir,” I whisper, on instinct.
And it’s like being dragged into a flood, carried off down a street in a wild current. My acquiescence in this moment changes everything. Dean’s muscular form seems to expand with purpose, his jaw hardening. My body becomes this small, fragile plaything. A sacrifice to the Messiah. Whereas I spend every day holding on tight to my power and independence, right now I’m at a man’s mercy. And the shame of how much I love it makes me wet. Makes my nipples harden even more. To the point of pain. I’m breathing hard, sucking down oxygen, but I can’t seem to keep my lungs filled. I’m aching and powerless and Dean is watching the change overcome me with animal hunger, his hands going to work. Like he can no longer stand the fact that I’m wearing clothes—and neither can I.
My shirt is untucked from my skirt. I arch my back slightly so he can take it off completely, casting it aside, along with my bra. And then he’s on top of me, his mouth ravenous on mine, yanking up my skirt in demanding hands, leaving it bunched at my waist, his entire hand immediately delving into the front of my panties to cup my sex roughly. So roughly and with such ownership that I gasp, breaking the kiss. Whimpering against the hard lips he keeps pressed to mine, his eyes drilling into me.
“This is mine. Are we clear on that?”
“Yes, sir,” I say, brokenly, my heels scrabbling on the ground when he tightens his hold. Gripping me in that invaluable hand. Hard. “Yes, sir. Yes!”
“It’s mine and I’m going to raw dog it any which way I choose.”
Oh God. I’m going to have an orgasm. I’ve only had one in my entire life and it happened while I was half asleep, a function I couldn’t figure out how to perform again. Maybe because when I tried a second and third time, I was too awake, too present in the constant clatter of my mind. Right now, I’m solely focused on this man and his grip. I’m existing for him. I’m narrowed down to just this. Just us. “Yes,” I push past lips numb from kissing. “Please.”
Slowly, very slowly, he loosens his hold and parts my folds with that long middle finger, sliding it through the drenched valley of my womanhood, his eyelids growing heavy with male arousal. Nostrils flaring. “We’re going to leave the stain of your virginity on my carpet, so I can see it when I’m working.” Without warning, he pushes two fingers inside of me and I scream without a sound, my fingers clawing at the floor, sparks dancing at the edges of my vision. “So I can remember you came to me a good girl, not a single fingerprint on this tight little cunt. You waited. You knew Daddy would pop that cherry just right, didn’t you?”
A sob nearly rends me in two.
Daddy?
If I was being carried away in a flood before, I’ve just been sucked down into a lost city at the bottom of the ocean. It’s gloriously unfamiliar. There’s no one here who recognizes me, so I can do whatever comes naturally. Whatever feels right. I’m free.