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“I’m afraid … you don’t really want me. That you’re only here because you think I need you.”
Zander’s inhale is audible, and it’s heavy and suffocating all at once. His expression is just as alarming. It’s as if the air around him has darkened and a different side of him has taken over. With a single step forward, he towers over me.
“If I didn’t want you, I wouldn’t be here, Ella.” The disappointment is obvious in his piercing gaze. “How could you possibly think I don’t want you? It’s fucking embarrassing what you do to me. How I can’t even think when you’re around.” Taking my hand in his, he presses my palm against him. “I’m hard as fuck thinking of how I’m going to punish you for that insecurity.”
His touch is like fire, the air engulfed in flames around us.
“You missed being punished, didn’t you? When you opened your mouth to greet me and instead you complained.”
My gaze dances between his broad chest and his hand.
“I’m sorry,” I admit.
He smirks at me. “No you’re not.”
“I—”
“You wanted to test me. To push me. To make me prove myself.” My body heats with a knowing feeling as he takes a step forward and I take one back. Then again. And again.
“It’s called topping from the bottom.” My lower back hits the vanity. I grip it on either side of me as Zander lowers his lips to my ear and whispers, “Did you think I’d let you get away with it?”
“Z.” I swallow thickly, not knowing what to say. “I was upset and unsure. I’m sorry.” It’s not that I fear a damn thing in this moment. Not him leaving, not a punishment. That’s not why I’m sorry. I wish I could take it back, because I know it hurt him. That flash in his eyes, that disappointment. “I would take it back if I could.”
“You are my submissive, and you were disrespectful.” His admonishment is spoken slowly. “Get down on your knees and show me how sorry you are.”
I’m almost shocked by his disapproval, by the harshness of his tone. Shocked so much that I freeze until he lowers his lips to mine, his eyes still open, staring through me as he demands. “On your fucking knees right now. Get on the floor.”
I fall instantly to my knees, my cheek brushing down his thigh until I’m eye level with his groin. As my fingers fumble with his zipper, he pets the back of my head and then strokes my cheek with a single finger. “That’s a good girl. Make it up to me.”
In a single yank his cock juts up. Thick and hard, the veins running down his length and drawing my eye. I don’t waste a second before licking the bead of precum from the smooth head of his dick. My tongue runs along the seam and the act makes him hiss.
I lick his length for lubricant before wrapping my hand around him. He’s got enough girth that my hands are too small to fully wrap around him, so I use both, stroking him and rocking myself as I do.
“Give me that mouth of yours.”
With both hands pumping the base of his cock, I wrap my mouth around his head and press my tongue along the bottom side. “Good girl. That’s it.” I moan around his length, sucking and feeling my own desire build. I’m hot for him.
He groans, “Goddamn,” breathily which only fuels me further to please him.
Every little sound he makes, the hitches in his breathing, the deep moans—they all push me to move faster, to please him and get him off.
“Take more of me,” he says, pushing himself deeper. I swallow down as much of him as I can, until I gag. Sputtering on his cock, I have to pull away.
As I heave in a breath, he grabs the back of my head. The head of his dick pushes in deeper and deeper. Arching my neck so he can take over, I let him guide himself as my hands move to the back of his thighs to steady myself and keep me upright.
Fisting the hair at the nape of my neck, he keeps me still as he thrusts himself deeper. My eyes sting as he cuts off my breathing. My nails dig into the expensive fabric of his pants.
As he pulls out, I heave in a breath, staring up at him. His jaw is clenched tight as he groans in pleasure.
“Your mouth is good for two things, my smart-ass girl,” he tells me and pulls away. Leaving me breathing heavily, with a primal need that stirs a burning fire within me.
“Stay,” he commands, backing away, zipping his pants although he’s still very much erect.
I’m left alone on my knees on the other side of the bedroom, catching my breath as he opens the bedroom door. My lips part a moment in protest, until he comes back into view, a duffle bag in hand that he sets onto the bench at the foot of the bed.
