Page 42 of Not Another Dark Romance

He bites his lip like he’s trying to hold back a full-blown smile, but I know it’s there. We’re going to have so much fun together now that he’s finally accepting who he was meant to be.

“Well, I like to take good care of my things, Pet. So let’s get you cleaned up and fed, hmm?” Zane motions me toward the shower and pulls the curtain back. “Get in.”

I step over the edge of the tub and under the hot spray, closing my eyes as it cascades down my hair. After a long moment, I step back, still facing the water until my face is out of the stream, and to my surprise, Zane joins me. I wish he’d step in closer, grind his cock right into my ass, even if he’s probably too tall for that, but he keeps some space between us. I’m not sure what to do but breathe a sigh of relief when he places his hands on my hips possessively.

“I want to wash every inch of you,” he murmurs in my ear, as one of his hands slowly reaches around my chest up to my neck to squeeze. “Your body needs to know exactly who you belong to.”

I groan at his claim and the feel of his body closer to mine with his hand still wrapped around my throat, thumb brushing under the metal of the collar. It’s hard to decide which necklace I like best: the collar or his hand. Testing the space, I shift back slightly, and sure enough his erection bumps my lower back. He doesn’t pull away, so I take it as an invitation to push back until our thighs are touching and his slightly erratic breath is panting in my ear.

Suddenly, there’s a sharp pain in my neck, completely separate from the way his hand was holding me, and I turn to realize Zane is biting me, as if he wants to leave his mark on my skin. I let out a surprised laugh before whimpering in approval, delighted by this new possessive side of him.

Zane steps back, reaching for the soap and lathering his hands before beginning to explore my body. He hasn’t touched my dick yet, and I wonder if this will be the first time. Fuck, I hope so. I want to feel his big hands all over me.

“Wow, this is nice,” I whisper, unable to swallow the words down.

His touch is possessive, firm, and claiming as he runs his strong, soapy hands over my chest, back, and ass, squeezing and rubbing as he does, as if he’s trying to learn every inch of me. But even with the roughness, I can sense care in his actions.

“What made you give in?” I ask, voice a little breathier than I expected.

He’s quiet, and I’m worried he might overthink his answer, but eventually he shrugs. “You. You got in my head, Little Psycho. You made me consider things I probably never would have admitted I wanted otherwise. Apparently, you saw something in me that I wasn’t ready to see in myself.”

I nod in understanding because I’ve fantasized about this moment countless times—being owned by someone who understands the darkness inside me and isn’t afraid to match it. Encourages it even.

The reality of actually sharing this with Zane is so much better than I could have imagined, and we’re only just getting started on this journey into my deepest, darkest fantasies. If all he ever does is fuck my face while reminding me that he owns me, I’ll be a happy man, but I’m positive we can go farther. It’s only been a few days, and we’ve come so far already.

He might be in charge in this dynamic—and yes, with the whole technically kidnapped thing—but I’m not without power, and he knows it. He waited for me to give my consent again. He gave me a safe word. He can pretend like I inspired him, but let’s be real, this man is not as innocent to kinky shit as he claims to be.

Zane’s hands move down my chest and stomach once again, and I almost stop breathing as I await his next move. His fingers slowly shift lower to my shaft as he runs his soapy hand over me. My dick is already rock hard again, despite two orgasms today.

“You’re so responsive,” Zane murmurs as his thumb circles the head of my cock. He stares at my dick as he explores. There’s nothing sexual about it. He twists his palm up and down, spreading the soap before cupping my balls and cradling them in his hand. “I like seeing the proof of your attraction to me. That you might actually be enjoying this as much as I am, despite our positions being so different.”

“Only for you, Master,” I respond automatically.

He chuckles a low, predatory sound that sends a shiver down my spine. “Good answer.”

He quickly washes himself, then turns me around so I’m facing him and runs a hand over my ass. I’m shocked when he pushes my cheeks apart and runs a finger through my crack, over my hole, and he must see it on my face. “I said every inch, Mason.”

I gulp in response, wanting him to press inside me desperately, but biting my tongue. We have time. We have so much time.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he commands as he removes his hand.

“That I never want this to end,” I reply honestly. “That this is exactly what I’ve always hoped I’d find.”

“You actually fantasize about this? About being owned by someone?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“What other fucked-up fantasies do you have?” he prompts, not in a judgmental way but with the curiosity of someone who might be interested in bringing them to life.

I take in a breath, ignoring my hard cock that’s now rubbing against his thigh since he’s nearly half a foot taller than me. I try my best to ignore his dick straining toward my belly button. I want to drop to my knees again, but I also want to tell him everything so maybe we can act them all out, so I focus on sharing my fantasies.

“I want to be punished, spanked, humiliated. I want to be forced, taken against my will, fighting back but secretly wanting it—the CNC we talked about. I want you to fuck my face with that mask on. Have you wear it and chase me through the woods. I’ve wondered about knife and blood play. Being shared with others, if my owner desires it”—his eyes darken at this, but I keep going—“being displayed like my art for everyone to admire but knowing only my owner gets to keep me.”

Zane’s breathing has grown heavier, and his dick is leaking against my stomach now. A wicked grin takes over his face. “Fucking hell, you really are a little freak.”

“I have a very active imagination,” I agree with a small smile, not feeling an ounce of shame when his dick is giving away how much he likes it. He’s right that seeing your partner’s desire is hot as fuck. “And a lot of time alone with books.”

He captures my chin in his hand, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Which one of these fantasies do you think about the most?”