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~ Bridget ~
Present
His nostrils flare. He looks livid. And ravenous.
My ass is on fire from the walloping Darren gave me with his damp shirt, but the area between my legs is also a hot mess. I don’t understand how I can be so turned on despite the fear still coursing strongly through me. I can’t help but run my gaze over his chiseled chest and six-pack. He looks as good as ever, his body covered in a gorgeous golden tan. Physically, he’s perfect. And maybe some primal, animalistic part of me, one that’s not synced mentally, is drawn to his masculinity and even the way he dominates me. It’s the part that’s living in the past, of what we used to be, or what I thought we were, rather.
But I have another reason for telling him to fuck me. I don’t know what he has planned, and I’m too afraid to ask. If I ask, and he tells me the truth, he might have to go through with it. Whatever he intends, it’s best I stall him and see if I can get on his good side.
His fingers dig into me as he grips my jaw, but I manage to say again, “Fuck me.”
His grip tightens. “You sure you want that, Bridge?”
“Please. No one makes me come like you do.”
He seems to doubt me. “Yeah?”
I said what I did to flatter him, but it’s also true. I haven’t had sex with that many guys, but none of them came close to what Darren does to me. I lower my gaze as I recall some of the most mind-blowing orgasms I have ever experienced.
“And how do you want to be fucked?” he asks.
Oh boy. I feel like I’ve done just about everything, every position with Darren. I’ve even let him in my backdoor, which had been, to my great surprise, amazing. But it’s been over two years, and I’m not sure I can take it there. Darren likes anal sex, though.
“However you want…sir,” I reply.
With a growl, he releases me. He undoes his jeans and yanks them past his hips. His cock springs up. My breath catches. I haven’t seen a man’s cock in over two years, and never thought I’d see this particular one ever again.
He strokes himself. “This what you want, Bridge?”
Warmth surges in my groin as I stare at what I consider to be a perfect erection. “Yes, please.”
“Do bad subs deserve cock?”
Feeling the emptiness between my legs, I whimper. Meeting his gaze, I say, “You could punish me with it.”
His countenance is grim as he returns my stare. “I should. Punish you. Use you like my fucktoy. That’s all you’re good for, right?”
Ouch.Maybe he’s just thinking out loud. Maybe he wants to be mean. Either way, it hurts.
“Yes, sir,” I reply, lowering my eyes.
He fists his hand in my hair and yanks my head back, making me look at him. “Is that what you want to be? My fucktoy?”
Overdue anger starts to stir in me. “It doesn’t seem like I have a choice, do I?”
With a snicker, he releases my hair. I’m glad because it stung. Why are there so many nerves on the scalp, anyway?
He goes back to stroking his cock. “If I told you to suck me off, would you do it?”
“I loved sucking your cock,” I remind him.
“Did you miss it?”
“Yes.”
“Bullshit.”
“I missed your cock,” I assure him.
