Page 74 of Roses Are Dead
“Then kneel on the bed, facing me.” I moved to make room for him and patted the mattress so he’d know exactly where I wanted him. The position was eerily similar to where he’d frozen in place, realizing that he owed me “anything I wanted” rather than bossing me around like he’d been doing.
And while that was hot, it also was perilously close to one of my biggest triggers. I’d spent years overcoming fears and issues. However, some were hard lines that should never be desensitized. Like consent. We were consenting here. Or so I hoped.
I mirrored him. Kneeling in front of him, naked as he was. Not touching, not crossing the boundary he didn’t know I’d established. I chose my words very carefully. “Tonight, I want to explore you. But…” I held a finger in the air, “…I do not want to break you. I want you willing and—” my voice faltered, the words log jamming on my tongue.
His head tilted to the side. “Rose?”
“A moment, please?” This was important. My hand quivered. I tucked it under my knee to hide the weakness. With a swallow and bravado I didn’t feel, I plowed on. “I want you willing and fully participating. I want you. I want real, not ordered against your will, and not fake.”
The rest of my churning thoughts fled. Cowards.
Bear leaned closer. With a careful touch, he moved one braid behind my shoulder. His fingers trailed along my arm softly. The skimming touch angled sharply inward and jumped from safe to sensual as the tips landed on my breast.
He circled my nipple twice before his hand stilled. The weight lightly bearing down as his hand flattened against my skin.
The quaking of my body turned into a quiver of anticipation. But he hesitated, trapping my gaze in his. In an echo of my own words, he said, “I want you willing. I want you begging. I do want to break you, but in the most…” his inhale shook, “delightful ways. I want you so perfectly undone that you come back reformed and stronger. Like steel. Are you with me, Rose?”
Tingles started at my shoulders and washed down my skin as goosebumps formed on my flesh. He’d seen through me. Into me. And spoke to my soul.
I nodded.
“Say it. Say you’re with me.”
“I am.” Completely, utterly, unquestionably. The sirens’ call to lean on his strength, kiss his warm skin, and soak up all the power he held trapped me in a magical state of wonder and shuddering bliss. With a man like this at my side, behind me, leading me, no matter where he was, I felt safe. And if I had to timidly admit, slightly frightened of the ease which he lifted me, arranged me for his needs, and how he held my fate in his hands as he let me ride him.
Undone wasn’t a light word. The precipice of that mountain of trauma I carried was tall. Diving off it was a challenge of will and by doing so, I cracked open a door I’d kept locked for years. My heart’s blood and hope spilled out, but in a congealed mass that clogged in place. Not only had I cut myself off from love, but from being able to love.
Sobered by that realization, I focused outward. Bear held me on his lap. I’d exhausted myself to the point my thighs shook and my knees ached. My breath was tight when I met his eyes.
“There you are.” He lifted me once, lowering me slowly on his impressive dick.
I settled, this time not fighting gravity. He fixed in place deep inside me. Goddess, why can’t I let go? Was I that broken that there was nothing left?
His heavy hand caressed my cheek and tangled in my hair. A ring caught, tugging one or two strands free. I slapped my hand over his. “Careful, you’re caught.”
With gentle care, he extracted his fingers.
The twin strands that had broken free clung to the jagged edge of his ring that had snared them. He pulled them free and handed them to me.
“Sorry about that.” With me still deeply planted on his lap, he pulled off his rings and wrapped an arm around me to lean over and place each one on the nightstand. “Let’s do that again. This time, I’ll try not to pull your hair.”
His fingers tangled and massaged my scalp. I leaned into the pressure and tried not to remember Carl pulling my hair free and casting his spell. The strands Bear had given me felt weightless, but as monolithic as a sacred artifact.
Quickly, I twisted the strands, wrapping them around my fingers and created a loop that doubled, then doubled again. In my thoughts, I composed a blessing of protection.
Bear kissed me, sealing the spell. As he broke away, his head tipped to the side. It was an attempt to see past my walls, into the shadows, and take a peek at my blackened soul. I set a hand on his chest to make space between us. I held up the small ring of hair I’d created. “Hold out your hand.”
He did as asked. I slipped the featherlight loop on his smallest finger.
“A part of me, fleeting and insignificant, but freely given. May it protect you.”
His eyes widened and his throat worked to swallow. He adjusted the loop, so it sat tight against his skin. “I have nothing for you.”
“You’ve given me a chance to breathe again.”
And just like that, I found strength. More than that, I found joy. Pleasure. Setting the pace and finding the right blend of arch and friction, I came. Just flutters like butterfly wings, but it was real, not pretended, not induced through mechanical means, and certainly not torn from my flesh through pain and blood.
I shoved those thoughts away and buried my nose against his skin. That subtle scent of his made my heart swell. I was free. Or at least willingly trapped here. Bear wasn’t an ogre, and had proven himself over and over again.
