Page 31 of His to Explore
“This is for me,” he grunts out. “You understand that right, sweet Kensie? You know it’s your job to make me feel good right now.”
I nod against his hand, struggling to take him deeper. Making him feel good is not just my job—it’s literally the only thing I want right now. I feel like I was made for this, to service this powerful, loyal, dark, amazing man in the backseat of his car. Or anywhere else he wants to take me.
“So fucking good, sweetheart,” he says. “God, take that dick like a good girl. Fucking choke on it.” He pushes my head down, making sure I do just that. And Iloveit. Love his roughness, love his control. Love how he uses me to get what he needs.
It doesn’t take long for him to get there. He’s as worked up as I am, thrusting his hips up to fuck my face as he controls my movements with his strong hand. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groans, over and over, until he’s spilling down my throat with a hoarse cry. He keeps my head in place, not allowing me to move until I’ve taken every drop.
“God damn,” he mutters, collapsing back against the leather chair. I lift my head from his lap, still swallowing what he gave me. I’m sure I look more than rumpled from that franticencounter. I can feel the tears dripping down my face and I know my hair is wild from his hands.
But Grant seems to disagree. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs, awe in his voice. He wipes the tears from below my eyes then keeps his hands on my cheeks, cupping my face. “The most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m sure I look like a mess.”
He gives me a wolfish grin. “But I’m the one who made you a mess. And that’s so fucking hot, baby.”
He helps me get straightened up then pulls me next to his body. “We’re going back to my place now,” he says, leaving no room for argument. Not that I really want to. “I’m going to eat that pretty little cunt until you come on my tongue, then I’m gonna fuck you until you forget your name.”
I laugh weakly, overwhelmed by the force that is Grant Anderson. “Sounds like a good time to me.”
He laughs too, squeezing me to his side.
It should be a warning flag, how giddy I feel to be going home with him. Just a few weeks ago, the thought of spending time with Grant outside of the club would have been enough to send me into a panic. Now I’m cuddling into his side, a dopey, satisfied grin on my face.
I’m getting comfortable with this, I realize. With all the changes over the last few weeks. Comfortable spending time with him—in his car, at a restaurant, at his home or mine. We’ve been at Club Wyld more than ever. But now, instead of getting off in the back rooms before immediately separating, we’re sticking around. Sharing a meal after our trysts. Watching the main stage shows in the front lounge then socializing with Grant’s friends—or simply sharing a drink and chatting together, just the two of us.
It’s been a lot. Too much, really. But I can’t seem to make myself stop. When he calls, I answer. When he invites me to Wyld or his bed, I go. When he insists we share a meal, I agree.
I should be keeping my walls up, keeping myself safe, but it’s so hard to feel worried in Grant’s presence. He makes me feel safer than any of those old walls I kept around my heart.
“You’re a million miles away,” he murmurs, brushing some hair behind my ear. “That wasn’t too much, was it?” Then he leans in close. “I thought you liked it when I fucked your pretty little mouth.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You act like you did all the work. Pretty sure I just made you see stars with this pretty little mouth.” I squeal when he smacks the side of my thigh.
“Careful,” he says, voice dark and dangerous, just the way I like it. “Or I’ll make you do it again.”
I laugh weakly. “I’m not sure I’ll survive.”
His laugh is much darker than mine, filled with both promise and danger. “Oh, you’ll survive, Kensie. I always know exactly how much you can take.”
He’s right, of course. I have no idea how he knows my body so well, but he does. He knows exactly where to touch, exactly what it will take to make me combust.
It’s the same with his discipline. Since the night I agreed to truly let him be my Dom, he’s been exploring more impact play with me. I thought he might be reluctant to spank me after the way I freaked out in the dungeon, but Grant seems to have no fear of that happening again. We’ve tried paddles, a crop, his belt again—we bothreallylike the belt. He’s so damn self-assured in the way he handles me, whether he’s doling out pleasure or pain.
It’s unspeakably hot. His dominance, his control. His confidence. He knows exactly what I want and how I want it, often times before I’ve even figured it out.
“Is it always like this for you?”
He stills beside me. “Is what like this?”
I gesture between us. “You and your subs.” My cheeks feel hot all of a sudden. “Is it always so…intense?”
He studies the side of my face. “No.” The word comes out slow and careful, like he’s trying to figure out how to answer. “It’s never been quite like this for me.”
Another thing that should send me running, but instead, all it does is make butterflies erupt in my stomach. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m not supposed to get butterflies for my dirty sex partner.
“But the things we do together,” I press on. “Like, outside of the club…is that normal? For this kind of relationship?”
Again, he’s careful in his response. I get the sense he’s trying not to spook me or something. “I think you and I get to decide what’s normal in our relationship.”
