So I let Santos and Victoria talk through the pros and cons of continuing therapy versus keeping the status quo. I pretended I didn’t want to scream at him every time he acted willing to sacrifice himself, because I didn’t want to lose him, but I didn’t want him to lose himself, and there had to be a way to have both things. Right?
I wasn’t naive.
I just…
The two of us against the world had only taken us this far.
THIRTY-NINE
santos
“Fuck, just like that, Ever.”
I would’ve never thought it, but it turned out that therapy homework could be fun. It could be something I didn’t dread doing like I did every time I had to journal, or read a chapter of a book on trauma or masculinity, or anything else. At least I’d noped out of daily affirmations.
This, though? I had no problem following doctor’s orders.
After asking about the frequency we fucked, and our wants and needs there, and pretending that our answers weren’t a bit out there, Victoria had suggested that, since my trauma was attached to being used to give pleasure, we dedicate an established daily time to me receiving that pleasure.
I hadn’t been sure how Ever would take it. We hadn’t quite addressed it, but he’d never shown an interest in topping, and fucking had always been about how many times I could make him come or how quickly I could make him cry and beg. Ever had nodded along while Victoria had explained the logic and stuff about rewiring my brain and more words I hadn’t paid attention to, but I’d been fully prepared for an awkward conversation where he cried about not being comfortable with the idea or limits or boundaries or any other big-sounding word.
Instead, here we were, three days later, with me blindfolded and Ever sucking on my cock like it was his fucking favorite lollipop.
I fought the cuffs restraining me to the bed to no avail. Victoria hadn’t said anything about spicing it up or adding bondage to the equation, but Ever had suggested it. His logic had been that, if I was holding his head or setting the rhythm, my brain could still interpret it as me giving to him instead of just receiving.
I didn’t know if it actually made a difference. I did know I wasn’t going to complain about it.
Fucking hell, maybe we could revisit going to his club if he learned to do that with his tongue there.
I could reckon it was the hormones and the sex in the air talking, but it was fucking criminal that he didn’t put his throat to good use on a 24/7 basis.
Holy fuck.
“Fucking hell, I’m…” My throat dried as I fought to keep my hips still. Technically, talking dirty to him could still be considered me dominating him or some shit, but there was only so much I could hold on to. “So fucking close, babes, I’m going to…”
Of course the warning only made him redouble his efforts, hollow out his cheeks in preparation to swallow my load like the perfect fucking girl he was.
The chains connecting the leather cuffs to the bedposts rattled as bursts of cum hit the back of his throat, and I couldn’t touch him. Hold him close. Make sure he didn’t move even half an inch away from me, even though I knew he wouldn’t even dream of it.
“Fuck.”
My legs quaked with the effort. It felt stupid to become undone by what should be a simple blowjob, but that messagedidn’t register with my ragged breath or the speed my chest heaved up and down. It didn’t stop until I felt Ever’s weight back on top of me, his fingers on the back of my head to get rid of the blindfold.
He kissed my chest while I blinked the dark spots away. While I adjusted to the harsher lighting in the room, and the aftershocks of my orgasm.
“I love this.”
“You do, huh?”
I knew he did, I could see it in his enthusiasm and the glint in his eyes and the way he curled up next to me right after like the most contented cat. Hearing it felt imperative at times, though.
“Yeah.” Ever rubbed his cheek against my chest like the cat I kept thinking he was. “We’re good, and I like doing things to you.”
“Like a perv.”
He snorted in response. He hadn’t taken off my cuffs yet, so I couldn’t pinch his ribs in retaliation like I would usually do, but I could picture the squeal he’d let out.
“Wear that dress today.”
