Page 97 of Coiled Tight
In my defense, I tried to follow the command. Tried was the operative word, though. I couldn’t say I’d ever been too good at it. The black spots weren’t a surprise, but they still made my heart speed up, panic threatening to grab hold of me and erase everything else that had flooded my senses for the last… however long it had been.
“Easy.” Daddy was there before I could let out more than a panicked whimper, strong hands on my hips pulling me against him. He absorbed my weight like it was nothing, and I didn’t have the strength to help him with it or do anything about it. “That’s it, darlin’. Lean against me.”
If I’d had any of that strength, I would’ve snorted because the idea that I was doing anything at all to lean against him or anything else was laughable. As it was, I just closed my eyes and tried to even out my breathing while he carried me wherever he wanted to go. Growing up in the sanctuary had done wonders for his muscles. Like, they were the kind that weren’t there for show and actually worked.
I was a fan.
“I’m not going to sink inside of you for the first time while you’re bent over somewhere uncomfortable,” Daddy explained. I mewled. My gaze opened to focus on the soft red lines on my thighs. Ones that must’ve been caused bythe bench when the force of the strikes pushed me against the wood. I couldn’t say I’d been too aware of them happening. “But I don’t have the patience to move us much farther.”
“Huh?”
I swiveled my head to try and get a glimpse of him. Some D-types really liked to turn everything into riddles when us s-types weren’t at full capacity. Very unfair.
It made more sense when he plopped down on the leather chair behind the desk, dragging me down with him. The soft graze of his lips on the top of my head didn’t help it make sense, but it replaced some of the fog with the warmth that came from being cared for. I didn’t protest.
I protested in the form of a loud, unabashed scream when my behind was scratched by the hairs on his torso and the rugged skin I salivated over on the regular. The fog dissipated with the physical reminder of what I’d just put my body through. Shivers ran through me as I saw my knuckles whiten against the edge of the desk.
“Cam?” The same raspiness in his voice that had kept me together earlier let me loose now.Fuck. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to break down crying, sobbing, desperate for air in front of him. Not today. Not like this, after the first time he dared to try a flogger on me, after he’d said— “Are you okay, Cam?”
He tried to veil the urgency in his tone, the way he’d half lifted off the chair and pressed his hand against my chest, where my heart beat faster.
Did it count as beating faster when that was its normal pace?
Fuck.
“Cam?”
The same urgency in his voice.
I coughed. It was a valiant effort to dissipate themucus in my throat, the tears clouding my vision and keeping me frozen.
“Don’t stop.” I panted. “Please don’t stop.”
Was this what that Dom back home had meant when he said all I needed was a really good cry?
“Cam…”
It was a warning—I recognized as much. I just couldn’t tell what he was warning me against.
“Please.”
There would be hell to pay for my insistence later, but it would be worth it. I just… I needed him—needed him to touch me, to hold me, to force me to stay present with every trust of his hips until nothing else existed again. He was the only thing tethering me to the ground. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do if that anchor left.
“I’m not going anywhere, Cam.” It was a promise, one that settled deep in my bones, in the core of what made me me. “Breathe.”
I huffed, breathing still ragged. It was fine when I was the one telling myself to breathe. When others did, there was this weird itch to scream in their face or just break down crying. It didn’t come with him, but I didn’t want to wait for it to come either.
Instead, I turned around before he could change his mind. Or before I could change mine? Things were still fuzzy.
Ignoring the sensation in my protesting muscles as I straddled him was easier than ignoring all the prickles and needles from his front touching me. I usually relished that afterburn. I didn’t know what was going on, only that I’d really meant it when I’d asked him about how intense this felt.
It was overwhelming, and maybe in a few days I’d look back at it and cringe at myself because I was letting all the hormones wafting around us take control of my prefrontalcortex, but right now, nothing made sense except leaning into it.
“Y’know,” I sniffled, “it really sucks that you’re not big into dacryphillia.”
The concern in Daddy’s face was there, but it evaporated after my very artfully placed joke. A not-so-subtle shake of his head later, he lifted his hand to wipe some of the tears I was giving up on.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t break like this in front of Damian, or he’d be stealing you away.”
