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“Drink,” I command.
“I can hold the bottle, Everett.” She almost rolls her eyes but quickly thinks better of it. She doesn’t want to earn herself another spanking so soon after the one she just had.
“I know youcan,but I’m holding it.” I shrug. These moments after an intense scene have always been my favorite, but with Wynter it’s amplified, like nothing I’ve ever experienced before and I want to lap up every moment of vulnerability she’ll give me.
She lets out a little sigh before opening her mouth and allowing me to feed healthy sips of water through her pretty, plump lips. I can’t help but stare at the soft pillows as she drinks, wrapping around the tip of the bottle so perfectly, imagining how she’ll look with my cock between them. That’s the one thing we never got to do before, and I have to rectify that sooner rather than later because I know the sight of my cock disappearing into her warm mouth is going to ruin me.
As much as the sadist in me loves punishing a naughty sub, it’s always been the aftercare I enjoy most. The trust they put in you during an intense scene should be unparalleled, but when they put their vulnerability in your hands and trust you not be break them, that’s something special, and fuck me if it’s not the best feeling in the world to have Wynter trust me like this.
Today she’s given me not only her body, but her fears, her trust, her heart, and I’ll never break it again. There’s nothing on this earth that can drag me away from her, not even Satan himself.
Once she’s drained the bottle, I place it on the bedside table and brush the stray hairs from her face. “Are you sure you want to keep going?”
“I’m sure.” Wynter smiles up at me with trust in her eyes.
For a moment I’m torn about whether to go on as originally planned or if I should deviate and skip what’s left of her punishment, but there’s something about the way she looks up at me that tells me she can handle anything I throw at her because she needs this just the same way I do.
“Okay, dove. I’ll be keeping a close eye on you, but this next part can get just as overwhelming as a spanking, so if it’s too much make sure you safe word.” I’ve never given a sub so many opportunities to get out of a punishment, but then again Wynter has always been different, and she always will be.
39
Wynter
As Everett lays me down in the middle of the bed, his hungry eyes feasting on me as they survey every inch of my body, I can’t help but think about the night we spent together all those years ago. The night he took my virginity.
For as long as I’ve known him, Everett has been what I can only describe as hard. His childhood was almost non-existent, he saw things he never should have seen from such a young age, and he lost both his parents way before he should have.
But with me, he’s not that man. He never has been. With me, Everett is soft and nurturing, his eyes are always filled with warmth when he looks at me, and the way he touches me like I’m about the shatter in his hands, it’s almost as addictive as the man himself.
That’s how he is right now, except where I usually see confidence, I see doubt. He’s not sure how to proceed after I broke in his arms. He doesn’t think I can handle what he has planned, but that’s the thing he doesn’t understand, and I can’t quite find the words to tell him.
I can handle anything Everett does to me, as long as he never leaves again.
“Ev,” I whisper, watching as he discards his clothes in a pile on the floor. Every inch of his perfectly toned body that he uncovers is my own personal fantasy come to life. “I need you.”
His eyes flare with heat that matches the one burning between my legs, some of the doubt disappearing to make way for lust. Everett prowls onto the bed like a lion stalking his prey, and if he looks at me like this, I’m quite happy to be his meal. “Is your pussy aching for me, dove?”
I tug my bottom lip between my teeth to mask the moan clawing up my throat. He knows how he affects me, but for him to know that just his words can illicit undeniable pleasure seems almost too much right now. “Yes,” I admit.
A predatory smile crosses his face and I can’t help but squeeze my legs together hoping for some relief. His eyes track my movement and he shakes his head slowly.
“None of that, Wynter.” His hand slaps down on my thigh and makes me jolt despite it being lighter than all the ones that have landed tonight. “So needy,” he admonishes, his fingers trailing up and down my thigh where a red handprint is forming, likely matching the marks on my ass. “But you know you still have some punishment left, don’t you, Wynter?”
I nod my head once, unable to find the agreeance he’s looking for through the lust clouding my vision.
Everett smirks. “If you’re good for me, I’ll let me come as many times as you want. In fact, I’ll drag so many orgasms from your body you’ll be begging me to stop. Are you going to be a good girl for me, Wynter?”
Heat washes over me at his words. After not dating much over the last eight years, no one has spoken to me like this, and the only dirty talk I’ve been subjected to has been what I’ve read in books, but all his words serve to do is make my core ache for him. “I’ll be good,” I whisper.
“I know you will, little dove.”
Everett brushes his fingers up my thigh and over my stomach until they gently trace the swell of my breasts. The light touch is almost maddening in itself, but he knows that. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me, and just how much it driving me wild. His fingers move across my overly sensitive skin and leave goose bumps in their path, while I struggle to remain still for him. A switch has flipped and now all I want in the world is to please him, to be good for him.
Giving my trust and submission to Everett is like handing over my worries, my insecurities, and my pain to someone else so that I can just be, and if that’s not freeing in itself, I don’t know what is.
When his hands move back down over my belly, there’s a fresh determination in his gaze. If I didn’t know Everett as well as I do, I would miss the barely contained need vibrating through his body. The way his shoulders tense the closer his fingers get to my core because while I need to restrain myself from coming, he needs to stop himself from throwing in the towel and fucking me like his body begs him to.
That’s the thing about orgasm control that a lot of people miss. While until recently I haven’t tried my hand at it, I’ve read a lot of books about these types of dynamics, and it’s always struck me as interesting that only the control of the submissive is ever commented on, when in fact it takes just as much, if not more, control for the dominant party to restrain themselves. Having someone else’s pleasure in the palm of your hand as you stop yourself from taking your own is just as hard to control.
