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Grace
Aidanlooksdifferentwhen he’s asleep. It’s the only time he’s not in control. I watch his chest rise and fall, taking advantage of this rare chance to study him when he’s not aware of my gaze.
I’m not usually up before him, but I was wrenched from sleep an hour ago by a nightmare in which Aidan was putting me up for sale at a slave auction. I begged him not to sell me, pleaded with him to take me home, but he wouldn’t listen. I woke up with tears on my cheeks, and I’ve been lying here, letting them dry on my face, ever since.
Tonight will be my first night away from Aidan since I graduated from boarding school. All first-year Jost Academy students are required to spend the night on campus for Freshman orientation. Part of me wishes I could come home at the end of the day, but I am looking forward to rooming with Jasmine. She and I have kept in touch, but talking to her through a screen isn’t the same as talking in person.
Aidan sighs, shifting his feet and dragging the blanket toward the bottom of the bed. All that lies between his body and my gaze is the sheet.
We sleep in the same bed now, though which bed we sleep in depends on his intentions for the night. We’re not allowed to have sex here, in his bed, the one designed specifically for BDSM. Likewise, when we’re in my bed, we’re not Sir and little one. We’re Aidan and Grace.
But sometimes we forget who we’re supposed to be.
We’ll start a caning scene, and halfway through, he’ll uncuff me and carry me to my room so he can lick my pussy. Just yesterday, he pinned my wrists to the small of my back while he fucked me from behind. The thrill of it made me come harder than I ever have before, which Aidan of course noticed, prompting him to immediately let go.
I don’t like not knowing where we stand from moment to moment. It’s become a guessing game: which man am I going to share a bed with tonight? Aidan, or my Dom?
Movement below his navel snares my attention; whatever he’s dreaming about just made his cock twitch. I can make out its exact position beneath the sheet, from the thick base to the helmeted end. It twitches again as it swells, doubling in size.
I hope he's dreaming about me.
My mouth waters. I watch his cock grow until it tents the sheet. Here, in Aidan’s bed, I’m not allowed to touch him without permission, and I’m definitely not supposed to touch his cock. However, I don’t recall any rules about touching the sheets around his cock. Considering all the rule-bending and breaking he’s already sanctioned, I can’t resist sneaking a peek.
Pinching the sheet between my fingers, I raise it slowly, bringing his shaft into view. I pause, waiting to see if he stirs, before I continue. A soft whine floats from my lips as I take in the sight of him in all his glory. I want to draw back the covers and wake him with a good-morning blow job, feel his hand on the back of my head as he forces his cock down my throat. I want him to bind my wrists with a long silk rope, loop the tails over the bars above us, and hold onto the ends like reins, controlling how hard and fast I ride his cock.
Since I can’t touch Aidan, I settle for touching myself, fingering my clit as I imagine all the things I wish he would ask of me. The limitless ways I would serve him.
“There are simpler ways to ask for a spanking, little one,” he says.
My pulse jumps. His hands are on me in less than a second, hauling me over his lap. He spanks my bare ass six times, three on each side. His erection pushes at my belly. His hand lingers on my backside, raking across my warm flesh and dipping between my legs.
I gasp as he slides a finger down my slit. He’s not supposed to touch me there while we’re in his bed. But I’m not about to stop him. He groans softly as he encounters my wetness, the undeniable evidence that I want him inside me right this minute.
His finger brushes over my clit.
I whimper. “Please, Sir.”
To my utter disappointment, he pulls his hand away.
“Grace...” he says. I meet his tortured gaze over my shoulder. I’m not supposed to be Grace in his bed. I’m supposed to be his little one, and him, my Sir.
Apparently, I’m mistaken.
I push up from his lap and sit back against the headboard, hugging my legs to my chest. “I don’t like these new rules, Aidan. I never know how I’m supposed to act or what I’m allowed to call you, and I can’t seem to open my mouth without ruining the moment.”
He rubs the spot between his eyes.
“You aren’t ruining anything, Grace. I’m the one who keeps moving the goalposts.” His gaze hardens. “I’ll be more consistent going forward.”
As usual, he doesn’t blame me for these transgressions, instead reserving of the fault for himself. I imagine his guilt building inside him, like water behind a dam that’s going to burst open someday and drown us both.
He kisses my knees and runs his hand along my forearm. “Are you all packed for orientation?”
“Almost. I just have a few things left to put together.”
“Go take care of them. I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast.” He offers me a rueful smile I can’t help but return.
“Yes, Sir.”
