Page 24 of His to Explore
He shakes his head, gaze intent on mine. “No. That’s not what this is about.” He leans in even closer. “I want you to let me treat you the same way I’ve treated my other subs. With respect and care but also authority. If you feel unsafe, I want to be the one you come to.” His jaw clenches and I wonder if he’s thinking about the flowers. “If I’m concerned that you’re working too much or not getting rest, I want to be able to guide you.”
There’s a part of me that wants to argue—isn’t what he’s saying akin to how an adult might treat a child? But I have to admit to myself there’s also a part of me that’s not turned off by what he’s saying. Not at all.
When Jane first told me about Club Wyld, she’d mentioned that she could tell I was a submissive from a mile away. I had no idea how, or even if she was right. I was afraid that she was confusing submission for me being broken down by my ex.
But almost as soon as I started spending time with Grant, I began to wonder if she had been right after all. Maybe my submissive side was something natural within me, not at allrelated to my shitty relationship. I’d asked him if we could experiment with that side, with light restraints and spankings and him being in charge, and he’d been more than happy to help.
I’ve never been more sure of the existence of that sub side than I am right now—because hearing these words from Grant makes me feel comforted in a way I’ve never known. The idea of him taking care of me—outside of sex—makes me feel warm and safe. The very opposite of how I felt with Fred’s unwanted control.
“You trust me,” Grant breaths out in my ear. “I can see it all over your face.”
“I do,” I agree. “I always have.”
He sighs, as if in relief. “Then trust me with this. Let me take charge for a while and see how it feels."
“I can tell you if it’s too much?”
“Always,” he says firmly.
I stare into his eyes, waiting for any twinge of discomfort, any warning instinct in my gut to make itself known. But all I feel is calm. Sure.
“Okay,” I whisper, and the smile that lights up Grant’s face takes my breath away. He leans in and presses a kiss to my mouth. It immediately becomes hard, insistent, his tongue darting out against my lips to demand access. He chooses that moment to slide the hand and my thigh up and under my dress, making me gasp.
That gasp is all the invitation he needs to plunder my mouth, his tongue taking the opportunity of my parted lips to thrust inside. It strokes against mine while his hand pushes farther up my thigh. Only when his fingers brush my panties do I try to pull back.
He releases me, breathing heavily, and I feel a thrill of pride knowing he’s as affected as I am. Maybe I even smirk a little, because his eyes narrow.
“Eat your creme brûlée,” he says in a deceptively casual voice that sends a chill down my back.
“Yes, sir.” My voice is just this side of sassy, and Grant shakes his head.
“It’s like youwantto be in trouble.”
He has a point—being in trouble with Grant has always led to highly enjoyable moments for me. And tonight seems to be no exception. As soon as I take a bite of my dessert, his hand pushes back between my thighs without warning.
I gasp, squirming away, but he’s relentless. “Eat your dessert,” he growls.
“Grant—” There’s a sting on my upper thigh and I gasp again. He just spanked me, right here in the restaurant.
“Do I need to feed you?” He asks evenly as his fingers push under my panties. His mouth finds my ear. “You’re getting wet for me already.”
“What are you—we can’t!” I squeak out. “We’re in public.”
“No one can see what we’re doing,” he soothes, then his tongue darts out to lick my earlobe. “Now be a good girl and eat that dessert while I enjoy this sweet little cunt.”
Oh my God. I can’t believe this is happening. His fingers are moving slowly, almost languidly, sliding my growing wetness along my pussy. Every once in a while, they brush my clit and I have to fight not to jolt against the leather seat.
“I wonder though,” he says thoughtfully. “Would you really mind if one of these patrons realized what was happening? If they knew you were getting finger fucked under this table?”
A jolt of heat runs through me and he chooses that moment to thrust two fingers inside me. I can’t hold back my gasp and Grant chuckles. “If you keep making noises like that, I’ll know you want to get their attention.” He nips my ear. “I think I told you to eat your dessert, Kensie.”
My hands are shaking as I obey, bringing my spoon to my mouth. The custard is sweet and creamy on my tongue and I try to concentrate on the taste so I don’t come in the middle of this restaurant.
But Grant clearly has a different agenda. He angles his fingers up to brush against my g-spot at the same time his palm comes down to grind against my clit. My spoon clatters to the table and I bury my head in his shoulder as the orgasm slams into me.
“That took about ten seconds,” he says drily. “I think it’s safe to say you like playing in public, hmm?”
I can’t answer. He slides his hand from between my legs and I watch as his fingers slip into his mouth. He groans softly. “I guarantee that pussy tastes better than my dessert will.”
