She clearly had enough for both of us. Her shoulders didn’t just relax. They slumped in defeat as she slowly admitted, “I don’t think I’d like to be hurt. But I don’t want to let you down.”
My long strides quickly ate up the distance I’d put between us until I was cupping her face in my hands. I kept going, being mindful of her heels when I backed her against the door. “You could never let me down. Fuckingnever, Greer. If you’re unsure, we don’t have to try it. Or we can work up to it. But it only works if you want it.”
“Why?”
That was a damn good question. How did I explain that it got me off to think about her putting her own comfort aside to make me happy? Or that the thought of seeing her cry made my dick so hard, it became a mutual pain? Or—more important than my sick, selfish needs—was the simple fact that she was strung tight, and I’d fucking kill to be the one to make her feel better.
That in that room, I wanted to be the only thing that mattered to her because she’d quickly become the only thing that mattered to me.
“Because you hold the power,” I reiterated instead.
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as her head tilted. Surprise tears—and not the good kind—filled her eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, of course not.”
“So…” She sniffled. “So, this isn’t a punishment?”
“Oh, no. Baby, absolutely not.” I yanked her to me, kissing her mouth. Then her cheek. Then her other cheek, the salty taste of her escaped tears coating my lips. “It’s meant to be the opposite of that. Whenever you’re ready.Ifyou’re ever ready.”
She gave a jerky nod as she looked to the side for a few beats. Her voice was a thin whisper when she said, “Go over there?”
It was meant to be an order, but that natural submissiveness she kept buried made it a question anyway.
I didn’t want to give her any space, and I didn’t loosen my hold. “Talk to me.”
But she wasn’t trying to get away from me. A small smile curved her mouth as she looked up at me. “I’d rather do what you said.”
That hit me in the chest, gut, and dick. “You sure?”
“Are you sure I didn’t do something wrong?” she shot back.
“I don’t think it’s possible for you to do anything wrong.”
She rolled her eyes, but I still caught it. The flash of whatever had been weighing on her since my father’s house. She smothered it just as fast as she tacked on, “Please, Sir?”
I kissed her again, hard but fast, before taking a few retreating steps.
She inhaled a few times, her tits rising and falling with the effort.
And then she lowered herself to her hands and knees. In her pretty dress, sexy heels, and adorable bow. On her fucking knees for me.
Crawling to me.
Her movements were graceful and unbelievably sexy, her ass swaying in the air. It wasn’t until she got closer that I saw the way her arms trembled nervously. When she reached me, she stayed like that as I gripped her chin and tilted it back to see the desire on her face.
“If I reach under that skirt, am I going to feel that you’re wet?”
“It’s…” She swallowed hard. “It’s dripping down my thighs.”
“Fuck. Fucking hell fuck.” It was the stupidest thing I could do when I had other plans for how I wanted the night to go, but I couldn’t resist. Undoing my pants, I fisted my dick and held it in front of her. She opened her mouth eagerly, leaning in to take it.
I gathered every atom of willpower I didn’t know I had to rock back on my heels. To move away from her. “Ask me.”
“Please, Sir.”
“Please, Sir,what?”
“Please, Sir, can I have your cock down my throat?”
