Page 7 of Passionate Defense

Ethan closed his eyes as he struggled to contain his body’s demands. The strained material of his pants constricted his cock, long since hard, making it difficult for him to tamp down his urges, but he did, for now. He was determined to have this frank and earnest discussion with her before he lost control, threw her onto her back right there on the couch, and fucked her until she was mindless and screaming for more.

He exhaled harshly. That line of thought wasn’t helping.

She laid her hand on his cheek and his eyes flew open. “Is it that bad?” she asked.

After clearing his throat, his voice still came out husky with pent-up need as he laid out his plan.

“No, but I need you to be open-minded. Otherwise, it’s destined for failure and I’ll come up with something else.” He waited, watching the parade of emotions pass over her face: doubt, skepticism, but foremost curiosity.

“Tell me.”

“First, I want your promise of trust.”

“But I don’t know what it is.”

“That’s the point. I want you to trust me and put yourself completely in my hands, with no preconceived ideas. For the next hour, I want you to try this new method. After the hour is up, if you don’t feel relaxed and less stressed, we’ll try something else. What do you say?”

“Um...” she hedged, her brow creased with uncertainty. Ethan could practically see her mind racing as she went through a host of possibilities.

“After three years together, one of those as man and wife, don’t you trust me to keep you safe and take care of you?”

“Yes. Of course, I do!” she said without pause, which pleased him greatly.

“Then why the hesitation?”

She bit her lip, a habit she had when uncertain, but only in private. He’d never seen it any other time, and it showed him how truly vulnerable she was feeling, but also that she felt comfortable enough to let down her guard with him enough to show her genuine emotions.

Part of his theory was that the control she exerted throughout the day, of bottling everything up inside, was a big part of her problem. As it went on, unchecked, it had bled over into her private life. Sure, she laughed and smiled, got angry enough to curse occasionally, but not to extremes, holding it in when she would be better off letting go.

She hadn’t cried at her grandmother’s funeral last month, standing stoically by her mother instead, the Ice Queen, firmly in control. Unfortunately, cynicism and biting sarcasm weren’t included in the emotions she buried. He could deal with that with this new method as well.

“Okay, I’m yours for an hour,” she agreed with a definitive nod. “What are we going to do, a jigsaw puzzle or play one of your video games?”

Both were mindless activities he used to manage stress, that and physical exercise, which included sex with his gorgeous wife. But lately, because of her stress, their sex life had suffered. That was about to change.

“It’s nine o’clock. The hour has begun.” Pointing to the floor in front of him, he ordered, “Stand here.”

She scooted to the edge of the couch then looked back at him, hesitantly.

“You promised to trust me. Do it now, Lanie.”

He purposefully made his voice low and commanding, and as he hoped, she responded. She moved until she stood between his feet. Not close enough for his liking, his hands rose to her hips and pulled her between his spread thighs. When her fingers automatically rose to his head, gliding into his hair, he looked at her sharply. “Did I tell you to move?”

“Uh, no—”

“No, sir,” he instructed and watched as her eyes widened in surprise.

Sex for them had always been playful, but in a spur-of-the-moment, unstructured kind of way. Never planned or negotiated. The only constant was that Ethan took the lead, acting as the dominant partner to which Lanie had always responded.

He’d noticed early on that she liked when he ordered instead of asked, in the heat of passion. The times he’d pinned her hands beside her head and kept them there while he fucked her, she’d gone wild. Tonight, he was going to explore that further, taking it to the next level in order to gauge her reaction. If his assumption was correct, she would respond to his firm commands and stricter dominance, giving her the freedom to relinquish her iron control and submit. For some time, he’d suspected she needed to but wouldn’t dare admit it.

“Answer me, Lanie.”

Her hands slid from his hair and she dutifully replied, “No, sir. You didn’t say I could move.”

“Good girl.” He gave her ass a firm squeeze of approval, lips twitching slightly when she gasped in surprise. “I’m in charge for the next”—he glanced at the clock—“fifty-eight minutes, no matter what. The only way you can stop what is happening is by using a safeword.”

Her brows rose at least an inch as her lips curved into a sly grin. “A safeword? How kinky. That should make me de-stress for sure!”

---