I tried to look past him, up at the clouds.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
I met his eyes and saw a flash of tenderness but then the hardness returned, “I’ll ask you again. Do you want to come?”
I wanted to burst into tears and say No. Because suddenly I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else, somewhere alone. But I didn’t say No. I searched my brain for the right answer.
He moved his mouth closer, our noses nearly touching, “Tia,” he whispered and as much as I knew he could see the need in my eyes I could hear that same need in his voice.
“Yeah?”
“Say please.”
He waited.
“Please, Tommy,” I finally whispered and then he let out a breath and his lips touched mine tenderly, sweetly. He dipped his tongue in, his lips touched mine again, and he let go of my hair and gently caressed my cheek. Then he grabbed my chin roughly and I could see his jaw go tense and his eyes narrowed,
“What do you want?”
I was frozen.
“What?” he urged.
“You,” I whispered.
“You want me?” he asked, intensity emanating from his eyes.
I nodded.
“Say it,” he growled.
“I want you,” I said. And I meant it.
He seemed to absorb my words and savor them for a moment, then added, “Want me to do what?”
I sobbed and got my hands over my eyes. I couldn’t look at him. I was suddenly overwhelmed with something, I didn’t know what.
“Athena,” he said.
“Just whatever you want to give me or take from me.”
He gently took my hands away from my eyes and then kissed my eyelids. Then he lifted me up into his arms, grabbing my skirt and torn undies from the ground and carried me back to the barn. I buried my face into his shoulder.
He carried me up the staircase and gently put me on the brass four poster bed with a pale blue comforter on it. I curled into the fetal position and buried my face into a pillow. He got undressed and climbed beside me and then gently pushed me onto my back and got on top of me. He entered slowly and sweetly and brushed my hair out of my face, looked down at me with tenderness and kissed me softly. I waited for it to change to rough but it didn’t.
“You okay?” he asked, already deep inside of me, and the concern on his face, it gutted me. This wasn’t dominating Tommy, not the Tommy I needed right now.
“No,” I whimpered into his mouth, “Not sweet.”
“No,” he said, speaking into my hair, “Not this time, baby girl.” and then he kissed me on the forehead.
He lifted my legs up so that my ankles were resting on his shoulders. He kissed an ankle and then pushed deep into me again. He rubbed a hand up and down my leg, scraping his teeth along his bottom lip, and set about a rhythm. Slow but deep, penetrating, almost but not quite punishing. This wasn’t exactly sweet but it wasn’t rough either. What was he trying to do to me? He asked me if I wanted rough or sweet but then he chose sweet when I’d asked for rough. Maybe he was just reminding me that he was in charge.
He pulled my ankles down so my legs could wrap around his waist and
then started to rain soft kisses from my throat to my earlobe, over to my chin, then his lips landed on my lips and his tongue pried my lips open. After darting in, tangling with my tongue he leaned back an inch, “You’re mine.” He said.
I let out a little sob.