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“Are you going to make me your slave now that I remember?”
Never, is the first thought that screams through my head. The second is to claim her, own her, keep her. Which is followed quickly with my third thought that I’m a colossal jackass for being hard as a rock at the thought of her being mine in all ways.
Fuck.
I’ve never wanted to have a slave. Yes, I’m a dominant. Yes, I enjoy meting out pain and pleasure to willing submissives, but I haven’t ever considered turning one of my casual arrangements into a more permanent situation. I choose to remain unattached because I’m unable to love any woman the way they deserve.
The submission of a submissive is a beautiful thing and shouldn’t be tainted by the hate that lives inside me. The hatred that has fueled me the last ten years as I’ve systematically taken out one human trafficking ring after another. Freeing abused and exploited women and children have hardened me. Losing Rose broke something inside of me. Some integral part that lets me feel a deeper connection with people.
The minute Rose was thrust into my arms again, I realized that part of me wasn’t broken, it was missing. When she disappeared, Rose took that piece of me with her. Now that she’s back, I can see a world of possibilities. Of course, I could never give my heart to another. It’s always been Rose’s. I want everything with this woman.
I can imagine a whole future with her. I will keep her forever in whatever capacity she will allow. My bastard cock is rock-hard as the image of Rose naked and kneeling at my feet pops into my head. She’d open her sweet lips for my cock. I can almost feel the velvety smooth texture of her tongue licking at me as I push between her lips.
Every cell in my body is screaming at me to take her now. I can’t do that, though. She doesn’t understand what she’s asking me. Even if I do want her to be my submissive, she’s not ready for that. She’s not ready for any kind of relationship right now. She needs a friend. A protector. That is precisely what I’m going to be for her. If and when she is ready for more, I’ll be that too.
“What makes you think I would want you to be my slave?”
As soon as the question leaves my lips, she tenses, and I realize she took my question the wrong way. Her eyes glass over with tears. “I…” she struggles to form words and instead starts to push away from me.
Grabbing her up as tight and close as I can without hurting her still healing back, I quickly work to fix the damage I’ve done to her fragile self-esteem. “No, love, that’s not what I meant. I want you. I want you so fucking bad, you have no idea.”
She scoffs at me and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right. I’m damaged goods.”
“Don’t talk about yourself like that. I want you. Of course I want you. What I don’t understand is why you assume that I want to make you a slave. Considering what you’ve been through, I’d have to be a heartless prick to ask that of you right now.”
Whatever comeback she has dies on her lips as she reconsiders her words. I can tell she doesn’t believe me. God, how can she not know how fucking beautiful she is? Even laid up in recovery, I fought off a perpetual hard-on. Instead of giving her a chance to come up with another excuse, I grab her hand and place it on top of my cock. Her warm little palm feels like a branding iron. One touch and she owns me. One touch will never be enough.
Fuck me.
Her eyes light up in shock when she realizes how hard I am.
“This is what you do to me, love.” Rose’s fingers flex around my cock, just that one bit of pressure, and I’m ready to blow.
The shocked look slowly melts away and is replaced by desire. The tension flows from her body until she’s relaxed against me again. Every inch of her naked body is pressed against mine. My boxers are the only thing between us. My cock throbs for more while at the same time, my brain is telling me to grab her hand and stop her before I lose control.
The light pressure of her hand slowly disappears, and I let out the breath I was holding. My head flops back on the pillow, and I do my best to think unsexy thoughts—baseball, golf, bowling. Anything but the feel of her soft skin pressed to my hard muscles.
Fuck.
Just as I’m starting to calm the fire burning inside me, her lithe fingers slip past the waistband of my boxers.
“Fuck,” I groan as her small fingers encircle my cock. She swipes her thumb over my tip then squeezes my shaft as she starts to stroke me.
“Holy fuck, Rosie.” I groan then pump my hips up into her hand, encouraging her. That is until my brain catches up with the situation. I grab her wrist, stopping her movement. “What are you doing?”
She blushes, and my dick twitches in her palm. Her pink tongue darts out of her mouth and sweeps across her lips. “I thought you wanted me?”
“I do want you. Trust me, but not like this. Not until you are ready.”
“Oh.”
Rose looks defeated. Tears well in her eyes, and she shifts away from me, burying her face in the pillow before they can fall. I’m instantly agitated by the distance she put between us. Even just a few inches of bed feels like an endless chasm. It’s intolerable. Now that I have her back, I won’t tolerate anything taking her away from me again. Not even herself.
“Look at me.”
She shakes her head, burrowing her face further into the pillow. Frustration wells up in my chest. Frustration isn’t a feeling I enjoy. Unfortunately, it’s been the most prevalent feeling I’ve had the last several days, and I’m done with it.
I’ve been walking on eggshells and treating Rose like a porcelain doll. It’s obviously not working because I’m fucking things up left and right. This isn’t like me. I’m usually in control of every situation, but ever since Rose fell into my arms, I’ve been in a tailspin. Now she’s suffering for it. It’s time that I take control of the situation.
