“I don’t know,” she said cautiously, and Ryan wondered what she saw when she looked at him.
His hand trailed from her head down to her shoulder, squeezing it.
“It would be good for you.” His voice was commanding, with a bit of a hardness to it that belied his gentle gaze. “And there is nothing wrong with wanting it.”
Her body stiffened a bit and she stared at him in shock, as though he’d just read her mind. Her mouth parted and he saw that soft, pink tongue within. Oh, how he longed to suckle that, to bite it, to make her body and mind contort as pleasure and pain mingled and danced.
“Tonight you may rest up, but tomorrow, after class, I want you to come right home to me. I’ll be waiting, Aubrey.”
“Yes, Sir.” The words were out of her, instinctually. As if they’d been beaten into her as the correct response when given an order, and it sent an illicit thrill through him. She was a natural. He’d known it from the moment he first saw her.
He smiled, kissing her forehead once more, hand lingering on her soft, feminine flesh a moment. “Good girl.”
Lying in bed that night, knowing she was just down the hall, was sweet torture for him. He only made it worse by denying himself his own pleasure, but still he stroked himself, picturing her form tussling up the sheets he’d carefully picked out for her.
When he’d first shown her the room that was to be hers, she looked like she might faint. His house was beautiful, he knew. He was useless when he came to decorating, so he’d hired a professional and had everything redone.
The only thing he’d really specified was that the rooms all had to feel a bit different, to have their own personality. His room was warm, antique. The home was already old, and it had a fireplace opposite the foot of his bed which he’d had refurbished, and all of his furniture was a dark cherry wood against the burgundy walls. Gold accents dotted the room, brightening it slightly and making it seem quite ostentatious.
But her room, the guest room, was cozy and inviting. Bright blues and crisp whites made it seem like something out of a dream, a relaxing getaway. With the mirrored closet at the side of the bed, though, and the four-post canopy, it was designed with purpose.
His room was punishment, hers was pleasure.
She’d sunk into the soft mattress and cooed her subdued, disbelieving delight. As if making too loud of a noise would frighten this fantasy away.
He thought of her as she was at that first moment, as that astonishment washed over her that this is how she could live. That this could be hers, if only for a while.
In her eyes he saw her thinking of the way she’d toss and turn trying to get used to the new quiet, the lack of barking dogs and yelling neighbours. Of the way she’d think of him, of what he’d seen. Of how vulnerable she’d allowed herself to be after only a couple of drinks and a little bit of persuasion.
Of how much she wanted what he could do to her.
He let out a soft sigh as his cock brushed against the silken sheets, caressing his body and easing his tense muscles. How could he do it? He'd gone over this a thousand times before, hadn't he? His mind was cluttered with thoughts of her in the bed, so soft. So inviting. So needy.
He thought about stealing into her room, touching his hand to her slender thigh, feeling out her form as she tried to drift to sleep. She’d tense, but then, finding it was him, relax. Welcome it. Welcome the lack of choices, no longer having to decide what was right and wrong.
He would tell her, and she’d never need to worry.
Ryan moaned again at the thought, and his body tightened momentarily. She was so beautiful, and his cock throbbed in his hand.
But he forced his hand from his thick member, willing himself to go to sleep. He wouldn’t let himself cum, not yet. He had to practice control over himself if he had any hope of dominating her.
“How did you sleep?” she’d asked him that morning, and they both knew. They had matching blurriness in their eyes, a twin slowness to their motions. Neither had slept well.
“I’ll sleep better tonight,” he replied, and his lip twitched into a smirk. “You will too.”
Her eyes widened and she bit her lower lip into her mouth, but her next gesture was the one he'd longed for. It was so simple, such a gentle motion, but the way she nodded said it all.
By the time she arrived home, he felt calm. Certain.
When he saw the tears in her eyes, though, his heart missed a beat. She looked so soft and sweet, and he wanted to coddle her, to make all her hurt disappear at the same time that he wished he’d been the one to cause it.
Ryan opened the door for her and then locked it behind her, not presuming to take her in his arms. He had to hold back, to resist the pretty little tears on the young woman’s face.
“What happened?” he asked, his voice dark and gritty and edged with need. She couldn’t have changed her mind. Not after how willingly she’d bent to him. That fickle fawn, uncertain of how good he would make her feel.
Instead of answering, she thrust out her hand, her phone revealing a text message.
At 1:09 pm her father had sent her a message asking when she was coming home.