“You’ve missed me? You’re the gorgeous one with the best pussy for getting cozy in.” She laughs. I knew she’d like that joke. You know you’ve got the best girlfriend when you can joke about getting cozy in her pussy and all she does is laugh like you’re the funniest bastard on SNL. “Maybe I should do that right now.”

“What? Get cozy in my pussy?” My belt is undone. Kathryn’s grabby hands pull it off, the leather and metal clanking to the ground. Next she’s going to unzip me. Nope. Can’t handle it. I also can’t handle her hiking up her skirt without my help. What? She wants to do it right here? I mean, I can provide that experience for no extra charge, but I had other fantasies in mind. After all, I get whatever I want tonight.

I grab her by the wrists and push her hands against the wall. That knowing look dawns on her relaxed countenance. That’s right. I’m asserting myself. Dom Ian hasn’t come around in a while. I’m overdo for more than sex tonight. I think she is too.

It’s been a long road opening Kathryn’s mind up to taking on the other role in BDSM scenes. To be fair, it was an even longer road for me. But I think the main difference between us is that she gets a lot more out of submitting than I do. I mostly do it because it makes her happy (and yes, it’s a good orgasmic time when I’m in the mood.) She submits because she’s discovered she actually needs it to calm the fuck down in her hectic life.

If I take total control, then she doesn’t have to worry about anything. Doesn’t have to make decisions. Doesn’t have to feel bad about enjoying what we’re doing. I’ve taken those worries and fears away from her. My burden is to alleviate the shit on her mind and stressing out her beautiful body. My drive to take care of her – while also indulging in my perverted fantasies, ahem – is what fuels our sex life half the time.

So, even though I was the one sick out of his mind this past week, she’s the one who bore the brunt of the worry and stress. Even though it wasn’t my fault I put her through that, I feel like I need to make it up to her. I need to dominate this scene so she doesn’t have to worry about a thing. Kathryn is going to let go of everything and start anew by the time we get home. I owe that much to her.

No pressure. Besides, this is the night I’ve fantasized about, right?

“Take off your clothes,” I tell her. “Leave the lingerie on, though.” I release her before going to the nearest lounge chair and sitting down. “Strip for me.”

She’s already started by the time my gaze lingers on her again. Pop, pop, pop. Goodbye buttons holding her jacket together. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle, there goes the sleeves down her arms. Fwump. On the floor.

Not once does she stop looking at me. Her gaze is full of affection. Adoration. Unquestionable love. Her sleepy bedroom eyes invite me to take advantage of what she feels for me, the only man she would probably ever marry.

Her skirt joins her jacket on the floor. A slim black bikini bottom accentuates the whites of her thighs and curves of her ass as she shrugs out of her simple blouse and casts it aside. Her bra matches her panties. Men notice these things. Or at least this man does.

I appreciate good coordination. Of course, I get as horny when I undress her and find an orange bra and white and purple panties. It’s about what’s beneath them, anyway.

I beckon her to come to me. I want her skin against mine. Her lips on mine. Her hair falling out of its peacock barrette. I say as much when she reaches me. Within ten seconds, the glistening peacock is on the table next to me. Katie combs her fingers through her hair, the ends brushing against her breasts. Looks like she’s got some great pushup cleavage happening. Wonder what it looks like from above?

“On your knees.”

I don’t care how many times I’ve commanded her to do that. Every time I say it, no matter how confident my tone, I expect her to talk back at me, because that’s how she is. So I’m always pleasantly surprised – and placated – when she does as told, her knees sinking into the carpet and her pretty cheeks only a reach away from my touch.

“You know what I want.”

As I said before, Katie’s a great actress. She knows how to keep her face perfectly calm while lying out her ass. “Maybe I don’t. Maybe I need to be told.” Her hands graze my knees, then my thighs. My erection is creating quite the sight in my trousers. When we’re like this, I don’t give a fuck. I don’t think she does either. Nobody’s laughing.

“I don’t think it takes rocket science for you to figure out that I want you to suck my cock.”

Tags: Cynthia Dane Billionaire Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net