Page 47 of Games We Play
“Everything?What do you think I am? A robot?” Sloan hiked up her skirt, thighs already grinding against the stiff toy protruding from Leah’s waist. “Should I take my wig off or leave it on?” Taking it off gave her more freedom of movement. Leaving it on meant keeping up appearances a little while longer.I really do love keeping up my appearances.
“You’re askingme?”
“You’re the one with the view.”
“Take it off.”
The wig was on the other side of the bed before Sloan could exhale another breath.
“I have one last surprise for you.” She was only delaying the inevitable at this point. “Open wide.”
Bound and gagged. That was Sloan’s favorite form of escapism, and it didn’t always apply to herself. Leah was more than happy to bite down on the silk handkerchief gracing her lips. Sloan didn’t bother to tie it. What was the point, when Leah would be more than compliant? Besides… what if Sloan wanted to rip it out and hear some cries of adoration?This is why I love having a partner who understands the crux of this lifestyle.Leah knew a gag wasn’t about silencing her. It was about eliciting some of the most exquisite sounds the human voice could utter. Leah made some fantastic sounds when given free reign, but sometimes Sloan preferred a… restrained touch.
To everything. Including herself.
Which was why she called upon her personal restraint when she mounted her sweet lover and rode her. Leah’s expressions – and those wonderful sounds she made – said everything Sloan needed to know.She’s never done anything like this before.Leah had claimed to be a novice the first time they spent the night together, but what did that mean, really? She wasn’t a virgin. She wasn’t a stranger to handcuffs and being treated to a special night on the other end of a woman’s riding crop. But she had never donethis,huh? Good. Sloan always did enjoy opening a woman’s eyes to new and wondrous experiences.
Sloan had been right about other things. Leah’s hips began to move as soon as she caught on to Sloan’s rhythm. Leah may have lacked the strength to really give it to Sloan like she wanted, but at least she wasn’t shy.So many women conflate the two things.Submissive did not have to meanshy.
“You like what you see?” Sloan asked with a heavy breath.
Leah nodded, sweat budding on her brow and mingling in the roots of her curls. Her breasts begged to be released from the bust of her lingerie, and Sloan was inclined to oblige. No better way to hold on while she fucked herself on a brand-new strap-on.
Sloan’s body loved it. Every neuron, from her scalp to her toes, redirected its energy to her loins and prepared her for one of the most intrusive orgasms of her thirties. While she was a fan of penetration, she hadn’t donethisin… what… years?The last time I did it, I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t handle it.She had done it in spite. A giant fuck you to the old lover who had stolen the best years of her life.
Leah stole nothing but Sloan’s energy. Which was probably why it became easier for her brain to tell her that ithated this.
Look at her,she tried to tell her brain.This woman is killing herself to touch you, but she can’t, because you handcuffed her to this terrible bed.The last time Sloan fucked like this was probably in this very bed. The apartment had been in her name for years. Ever since…
Stop thinking about that. Stop thinking about how much you used to love this. You were wrong, you know. Now look at you. Living right up to those perverted expectations.
Something pierced her inside. Not the strap-on, although she stopped humping long enough to reorient the rest of her body for better penetration. No. What was it? Those faraway memories she had suppressed for her own, embittered good?
Impossible. No way was there someone watching them through the windows. They were thirty stories high. The windows were tinted. The curtains were drawn. Nobody, not even the nosiest tabloid reporter, could see what they did right now.
So why did Sloan feel like they were being watched?
“Fuck me, Leah,” she insisted when she was back in her saddle. “Fuck me hard.”
She never spoke like that when she did this before, right? That would’ve been out of character back then. The Maggie of old was more likely to coo,“Please, please fuck me. Fuck me soooo hard.”Sickening. It sounded so much better coming from Leah like that. It was natural to her. It was directed to another woman. Superior in every way.
“Fuck me!”
I’m in control. I controlallof this.Sloan controlled how much her lover could move. She controlled the angles of their lovemaking. She could even control her orgasms, since she was so familiar with her own body that it was only a matter of hitting the right inner wall or stopping for a few seconds to prolong the pleasure.Nobody tells me what to do. Nobody controlsme.
If she wanted to come, she damn well would. She’d do it for her own pleasure, and she’d do it to turn her submissive lover on.
Yet no matter how hard Sloan grabbed Leah’s breasts or grinded against her pelvis, the result was unavoidable. Climax came fast, like a hurricane ripping through her body and leaving nothing in its path. Her mind made sure she didn’t forget the most horrifying thing at the peak of her climax.
You control shit.
There was nothing more intense than a Domme like her coming down from her high with those intrusive thoughts. She may have looked calm and physically sated on the outside, but inside? Leah should start praying. Now.
Because those demons Sloan fought to control every single day of her life had awakened.
Once they were awake, there was no corralling them back into the depths of her soul until they were indulged.
The next hour started with a kiss. Famished, consuming kisses that left Leah whimpering against Sloan’s lips and writhing because her lover refused to help her expend that beautiful, sexual energy.You will come when I say so. You will do what I say. You will…This was why Sloan couldn’t keep a partner for more than a week, wasn’t it? Her domineering nature was appealing to women like Leah until they found out how far she could push them. On the second fucking date, no less.
