Page 37 of Bound and Branded

The last time he was so rough with them. It was a pleasure/pain that surpassed anything I’d ever experienced before. I crave more of it.

But he doesn’t give me the attention that I’m asking for. Instead, he pushes his fingers through my hair and makes a fist, holding it tight as he draws my head back and kisses me deeper, harder. His other hand is still on my ass, pushing toward my pussy. He shoves one finger inside of me, then another, his movements rough as he continues to claim my mouth. Then he withdraws his fingers, parting my thighs and lifting one leg up over his hip as he thrusts inside me, bare like I’ve been fantasizing about. Bare like I’ve been afraid to ask for. He fucksme against the tile wall—that’s it, shaft hot inside of me as he pushes me closer and closer to orgasm.

I hold onto his shoulders, desperate for whatever he’ll give me.

He growls against my mouth. “So fucking hot. You dirty little slut.”

His words push me over the edge— I can’t even explain why. Even when I’m bad for him, he likes it. Dirty, desperate. He likes it.

It’s what I needed to hear, even though I didn’t know that it was.

I come hard, my pussy clamping down on his cock, and he thrusts into me three more times—rough and hard—before he spills hot and slick inside of me.

He doesn’t withdraw. He stays buried there as he turns the water off and opens up the door, lifting me off the ground and carrying me out into the bathroom. He finally pulls out of my body, wrapping me in a towel and drying me vigorously. He likes to do things for me when we’re done having sex. I guess that’s true even when it isn’t a big scene.

My head is swimming. Because that wasn’t a scene. That was sex. Unplanned, and still with the spirit of the roles that we play sexually, but without the explicit protocol.

Without permission. Without a plan.

I think about what he said to me earlier. How he doesn’t keep a submissive the way that some Doms do. Doesn’t extend the dynamic out of the bedroom. Suddenly, I wish that he did. I imagine living here, existing to serve him. Please him.

That almost makes me laugh. Because I’m not going to spend my entire life being a sex slave. But God, it’s tempting. It would be easier than trying to figure out what the fuck I actually want.

Just thinking that makes me want to cry and I squeeze my eyes tight shut, trying to keep myself in the present, trying not to let myself get tangled up in what’s next.

“I’m going to get you something soft to wear,” he says.

I nod.

“Go and sit on the bed.”

I obey, my leg still feeling like jelly, and I sit on the edge of his bed. His bed. That’s a new intimacy. It’s not lost on me.

He returns with another set of luxury clothes from his secret drawer.

“So you keep these for all your submissives,” I say.

I don’t mean for it to sound like an accusation, though it does.

He slips the shirt over my head, and I’m so warmed by the gesture of care it makes my chest ache.

“Yes,” he says. “They usually sleep in the other room. Some of them travel from far away, and it would be… Un-gentlemanly of me to send them away in the dead of night.” He grins at me, a wolfish smile. He’s no gentleman, and we both know it. But he does have that caregiver streak in him that runs deep.

It fascinates me, knowing what I do about his life. He speaks about the control aspect of domination, but it’s not the only thing that he likes.

I wonder if it is something that appeals to him because it something that was missing from his life.

Certainly it sounds like no one really took care of him.

I’m soft and comfortable, and he picks me up off the foot of the bed, holds me up against his chest, and carries me down the stairs. I loop my arms around his neck, and I don’t ask where he’s taking me. I don’t really care. Which is how we find ourselves on his couch, eating popcorn and watching a Marvel movie like we’re two normal people who just had a date.

It’s a sincerely strange new development.

I’m not unhappy about it.

He puts me on his lap, feeding me as we watch the movie. I’m not paying attention, but then, it’s all explosions to me. I’m so unbearably aware of his hard heat all around me. The way that his large hand rests on my side. The way he has me cocooned against him.

That’s what I really care about.

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