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I’m learning.
“I want to come for you, Master Tony. Please play with my pussy. Please touch me there. Please make me come. Please.”
“You’re so pretty when you beg,” he whispers, biting my ear, but then he moves his hand between my legs and begins to play my body like an instrument he’s been practicing for years. He knows exactly how to touch me, exactly how to make me fall apart. He knows just what I need, and he strokes me until I begin to freefall into oblivion.
I drown in pleasure as I come.
The waves of ecstasy wash over me and seem to last an eternity. When it’s over, I sag back against him. I am sated, tired, and content. I am happy.
And I am safe.
Chapter 12
Anthony
“That was beautiful,” I tell her. “Do you always look so lovely when you orgasm?”
“I don’t know,” she whispers. “I don’t usually watch myself in the mirror.”
“Have you ever?”
“A few times,” she admits. “It was fun to see.”
“See, sweetheart? I told you you’re kinky.”
“I guess I didn’t really believe it myself until Saturday,” she admits. I stroke Macie’s hair and touch her gently for a few minutes. Then she starts to wiggle away. “Where are you going?”
“I’m afraid I’m going to make a mess on your suit,” she stands and looks at me, blushing down at my pants.
“That’s not something you need to worry about, Macie. I have an excellent drycleaner and I have plenty of other suits.”
“Really?” She raises an eyebrow, and I motion for her to sit back down on my lap. She snuggles close to me and I breathe her in.
“Really.”
“What about you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You haven’t come,” she points out.
“Believe it or not, this isn’t my first rodeo. I’m not some horny teenager, sweetheart. I don’t have to get off just because you do. Sometimes a Dom is happy just knowing he pleased his sub.”
“You make me feel really sexy, Tony.”
“You make me feel sexy, too.”
“No wonder you said aftercare is important. This feels so nice, just snuggling and talking.”
“Absolutely. And aftercare looks different for everyone. Always remember that. Just because something works for us doesn’t mean it will work for someone else.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says, and then Macie is quiet. I hold her for a long time, and then I hear a cute little snore, and I realize she’s fallen asleep in my arms. Apparently, her week was just as difficult as she said it was. Carefully, I manage to lay her on the couch and get up without waking her. I wander around for a minute and find a blanket, and then I cover her sleeping form.
Heading into the kitchen, I start putting the leftovers away and washing the dishes. The work is methodical and simple, but it allows me to clear my mind. I try not to think about anything but scrubbing, and for about ten minutes, I manage to do that. Then I finish cleaning, and once again, Macie consumes my thoughts.
I peek into the living room and sure enough, she’s still out cold. The poor girl. She must work herself to death. It’s not even 9 o’clock and already, she’s passed out. A protective instinct fills me as I wonder why no one looks after her. Yeah, Macie is a strong, independent woman, but she needs someone to cherish her, to care for her.
She needs someone like me.
