Page 74 of My Family

"You like being played with, don't you?"

I nod, unable to speak.

"You want to come, pet?"

"Please," I whimper.

He speeds up, working his finger in and out, his fist pumping me. I can't hold still, can't think, can't do anything except feel.

He leans close, lips against my ear.

"Come for me, brat."

I do after a few more strokes.

Hard.

It's like a shot to the spine, white-hot and endless. I spasm in his lap, my cum striping his legs, and he keeps going until the aftershocks make me whimper.

When I'm done, limp and half-broken, he pulls me upright and holds me in his arms. His hand is wet with me, and he wipes it on my thigh with a smirk.

"You're so fucking cute," he mutters.

I want to melt into him.

I want to crawl inside his skin and live there.

He puts me on my feet, tugs my pants up, and pulls me into his lap again, this time just to hold me.

He smells like sweat and musk.

"Do you forgive me?" I ask, my voice muffled against his neck.

"Always, silly," he says immediately.

"Can I make you come?"

He shakes his head.

"Not today."

I don't argue. Ethan only does what he wants, always in control. Some people would find that maddening.

I find it steadying.

We stay like that for a long time.

Eventually he says, "You know you can be scared I'm going to leave."

I look up at him.

"I can?"

"Yes, puppy." His thumb rubs slowly over my hip. "You can't always control what your head tells you."

Oh.

"But every time your head says I'm going to leave, you can't make me answer for it like I've already done it."