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“What?”
“Look at this.” He grabs the end of the bed and it moves upward. “It disappears into the wall.”
“Clever,” I say, but I can’t help but feel an odd jealousy that he’s only just installed a bed two weeks before I graduate. Does it mean he intends to fuck other students? Maybe start acting like Coach Daniels.
He doesn’t seem to notice my shift in mood as he walks toward me, kissing me with a tenderness that makes my heart ache. “Just you and me today,” he murmurs.
I don’t understand his meaning, but he starts kissing my neck and shoulder, pushing me toward the bed.
He’s never wanted to have sex without some kind of sadistic element involved. After all, he loves inflicting pain and I love receiving it.
Slowly, he lowers me to the soft silk sheets. His lips making love to my skin in a way he’s never done before.
It feels like there’s no urgency, like he has forever to worship me. Slowly he unbuttons my shirt, eyes heated, but that darkness that’s always there seems at bay, calm. It’s not in the driver’s seat as it usually is.
He unfastens the front clip of my bra and then moves his lips to my breasts, lavishing them with painfully slow strokes of his tongue.
I shudder, lacing my fingers in his dark hair.
He doesn’t tell me off or stop me, allowing me to touch him for the first time.
There’s a shift. A change in him that I can’t explain.
Gav takes his time undressing me and worshiping me with his hands, tongue and teeth—the only aspect of pain he allows me.
Once I’m practically gasping for air and begging for release, he gets off the bed and starts to undress. Normally there’s more sadistic play before this point, and I wonder if we’re just going to have straightforward sex. Even when we’ve been at his cabin on his bed, there’s always been an aspect of sadism. A detach between us, as he ties me up, strangles me, and every time he’s kept this disconnect between us.
I’ve never slept there, always feeling like he wants me to leave pretty soon after we have sex. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes as he throws his jacket and tie on the ground and then unbuttons his shirt. My breath gets caught in my throat as he gives me a chance to observe the scars over his skin, scars I’ve wanted to ask about, but I’ve been too unsure to mention. The tattoos have been strategically placed to hide the wounds, but there is no covering them up.
I open my mouth to mention them, and as if he can read my mind, he shakes his head. “Don’t ask.”
I nod, respecting that he doesn’t want to talk about it. “Okay.”
He looks relieved as he tosses his shirt on top of his jacket and then unbuttons his pants and takes them off with his briefs, standing totally bare to me and allowing me to observe him. Even his thighs and calves are peppered with scars, and I want to know how he got them all. As I sit on the bed staring at him, I know I’ve never seen such a beautiful scene in all my life. A man who seemed so unshakable stands in front of me, oozing vulnerability.
“Can I touch you, master?”
His jaw clenches, but he climbs onto the bed. “Yes.”
I run my fingers gently over the large scar that stretches across his left pectoral in a diagonal.
He shudders at my touch, as if it hurts him.
“Are you okay?”
His eyes are different now, as if a haze has lifted from them and I can see right into his soul. “Don’t talk.” He kisses me then, as I let my hands rove over his skin.
He pushes me into the mattress with his heavy weight, the hard length of his cock pressing into my soaking wet pussy.
I groan as he rubs the head of it through my arousal, teasing me. “Please, sir.”
“Master,” he murmurs. “I want you to call me master.”
“Please, master. I need you.”
He bites the inside of his cheek before thrusting inside of me, holding my gaze. At first he’s slow, almost tender, as if he’s making love to me.
I almost laugh the moment that thought enters my mind as a monster can’t love. Even if I still haven’t given up the hope that he’s not beyond repair.
