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I cringe, and he chuckles.
“What? You don’t like that term?”
I shrug. “It sounds a bit cringy, that’s all.”
“Maybe so, but have you done that before, Kitten?”
I shrug, remembering when Simon whispered in my ear as Garrett took me bare. Make love to your man.
Ty continues, brushing his thumb across my bottom lip. “Will you let me show you what it’s like?”
Will I let him show me how to make love? The idea fills me with anxiety, yet I find myself nodding.
“I’m up for it as long as it doesn’t involve piss.”
Ty throws his head back, laughing. “No piss, I promise.”
Chapter Four
Tyler
Iknew it was risky asking Rhys to be vulnerable with me. Sure, she finds the term making love cringy, but her discomfort isn’t really with the term. It’s with the act of letting me see past the walls she puts up. She’s used to fucking, and at the end of the day, sex is sex. You can think of it as fucking, screwing, banging, or making love, and it still means the same thing mechanically. But emotionally, it’s different. And Rhys George doesn’t do emotions. Up until recently, that is.
I should probably tell my little brat that I’ve never done this before. Making love. I’ve never wanted to be that revealing with anyone before. But I want that now with Rhys George. My year eleven Health class student. My Feast Night Liege. The feisty little brat that has stolen my fucking cold black heart. That’s how I knew leaving my teaching career was the right thing to do. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Never has another person's soul called to mine. She may call me Daddy. Our roles may have me as the dominant controlling party, but make no mistake, Rhys George owns me. Not the other way around.
She looks nervous as I stare at her. Study her every move. Memorising each feature of her face. Her nerves show in the way her big brown eyes flick to mine, and can’t maintain eye contact for long. The way she absent-mindedly sucks in her lower lip, biting it. The way her skin flushes pink from a blush, I know she can feel the heat on her cheeks.
I ignore the purple mark on her cheek. It fills me with anger each time I look at it, so I dance my eyes past it, only taking in the parts of her that aren’t marred by the dark world we live in.
Reaching up, I cup her jaw and brush the pad of my thumb over her bottom lip, tugging it free of her bite. Her breathing picks up, her chest rising and falling as her eyes dart from my lips and back to my eyes. She wants to kiss me, but I’m holding her at bay, and it’s making her squirm.
“Kitten?” I rasp quietly, gaining the attention of those chocolate pools again. “Would you like me to kiss you?”
We don’t normally dance this dance. Our bodies normally guide us, taking what they need from each other, our animalistic needs taking over. Now, though, I’m attempting to control the animal inside us. Hold them at bay to let the true feelings break free, so instead of just going in for the kiss, I’m asking her.
“Yes.” She whispers, her voice breathy as she licks her lips.
I grin, moving in closer to hover my lips over hers, all while maintaining eye contact. She’s the first to look away. Closes her eyes to break the connection. I let her have it this time. Mainly because it's probably awkward as fuck to kiss with your eyes open.
When my lips finally close the distance, a needy whimper escapes her as she parts her lips and accepts my kiss. I keep it slow. Sensual. Deliberate. I nibble at her lips. I tangle our tongues torturously slow. My hand cups the nape of her neck, my fingers tangling into her hair so I have control of her head, and I give a gentle tug on the strands, showing her that making love doesn’t have to be rainbows and butterflies. It can be dirty. It can be a little rough. It can be consuming.
The hair tug does the trick. Her body finally relaxes against mine, her hands gripping my shoulders with excitement as her hips do a small roll over my lap. My other hand presses into the curve of her back, needing her closer as our mouths, lips, and tongues ignite the fire between us.
I kiss her for a long time. It’s amazing what a good, thorough kiss can do, getting lost in each other without even taking our clothes off. When I feel her pelvis no longer able to control her need for friction, I shift forward in the chair, gripping the round globes of her arse, and I stand, turning around and lowering Rhys back to the chair.
I break our kiss finally, pulling back to see the pink swell of her lips as she licks over them, her eyes remaining on mine, probably not even realising she’s staring at me like that. Grabbing the hem of her Paramore t-shirt, I lift it over her head, revealing all of her creamy satin skin and her two handfuls, her nipples dark and straining with need.
“You’re so beautiful, Rhys.”
And there goes the eye contact. She doesn’t do well with compliments that are so personal. That’s ok, though. I’ll teach her how to love herself and show her she is more than just sex.
“Eyes on mine.” My command isn’t a demand like I’d give her in our daddy and brat role. It’s spoken gently, but she knows I’m not asking, and that’s why she obeys, bringing those dark eyes back to mine. “Don’t look away. No matter what. Ok?”
She hesitates for a moment but then nods, so I reward her with my fingers circling her nipple, and she arches forward a little, seeking more.
“Rhys George, you are truly beautiful.” I give her the compliment again, and she darts her eyes away again briefly, but brings them quickly back to mine. I can see she wants to say something but isn’t sure, so I help her out.
“You can speak, Kitten. If you have something to say to me, I want you to know you can always say it. Ok?”
