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“That’s my room,” says Indie, following me as I enter to find stacks of clothes on chairs, a string of Tibetan prayer flags above her bed. On the table lie a row of essential oils next to a small wooden statue of a Hindu goddess I can’t say I know the name of.
“It’s a bit of a mess,” she mutters.
“I guessed it would be,” I say with a smile before checking the windows and inside the closet and then the other bedrooms and the bathroom, filled with toiletries, deodorants and sunscreen.
As I declare the house safe, I head downstairs, resisting the urge to throw her onto her bed like I want to and ravaging the stress from both of our bodies over and over and over until any vestige of fear or doubt melts away beneath the slip of our skin.
But I can’t…
Even if this hadn’t suddenly become more complicated, I can’t do it to her. She’s had enough of being messed around without adding me to the mix. I'm no good for a woman like her. I know that with every fiber of my being.
I’ll only end up hurting her. I think she’s had enough of that already. Not to mention that she’d have to navigate my world, my family. My father. And I know exactly how miserable he’ll try and make her if he knows that I feel something for her…
I just can’t block out the little voice telling me I’m a coward. This girl makes me feel something for the first time in a long time. And I know that if I have to feel this, I may have to face something I’ve not been allowed to since I was six years old, since the day that changed who I am.
A heartbeat of panic shortens my breathing.
I need to get us both out of this mess…
But as I walk towards the balcony to look out a final time, seeing the half-moon hanging low in the sky, I turn to face her… and goddamn it, those green eyes, still swollen and glistening from the tears she shed earlier, collide with me, weakening me, making me want to lick the stains of her tears from her face, to pick her up and carry her, hold her until she feels safe.
I run my gaze down her body, sheathed in a long slip of silky peach that envelops the curves I’ve so wanted to explore properly. The tips of her now-loose hair tickle her nipples and make me want to rip her dress off, bend her over the coffee table and fuck her brains out.
But would that be enough for her? The women I’ve been with before have all wanted more…
And sooner or later, the mask of civility would fall… and she’d be exposed to what I need to feel pleasure. I would need a level of submission that I know full well she won’t have experienced. Her sex life would devolve to involve merciless binds and chains that kept her legs apart for my pleasure. She’d lose her autonomy in a frenzied blur of handcuffs and other restraint devices. I ache to close off her airway as I fuck her, to bite her until I hear the ecstasy of the pain she’s willing to feel for my pleasure. She’d be brutalized by paddles, flogs, whips, blindfolds, straightjackets, and all manner of fucked up things even before she was expected to hand over her little holes for me to use for my pleasure.
And while the women I usually degrade don’t seem to complain about it given how fervently they insist I use them for my pleasure again, she’s a different species. I don’t know how I can do it to her.
“Indigo, I… I should go. I’ll speak to the security guys again, make sure they know exactly what to do.”
She frowns. “I could make some mint tea… if you wanted to stay.”
My gaze finds the floor, ambling to her bare feet—small, as if so small that they shouldn’t be able to hold her up.
“I…”
But my words are halted as she takes a step towards me, her hand finding my arm. She stands up onto the tips of her toes, her eyes not leaving me as she leans up and gently kisses me on the lips. “Can you stay with me?Please…”
My blackened heart almost breaks at the request, and at the earnest plea in her jade eyes as she silently implores me, but before I can speak, she stands on her tiptoes again, kissing my lips gently, her breathing heavy.
I’m not used to kissing on the mouth. It’s a level of intimacy I avoid… but as she exhales softly, enveloping my lower lip in hers, my body alights with warmth, my cock hardening further.
“Indigo,” I manage, pulling away to look down at her.
“What?”
“What I said to you before is still true. I’m not boyfriend material. My world is far too messed up to give you the kind of relationship you need.”
She contemplates the words for a moment. “I don’t care,” she whispers. “I’m not expecting anything of you. Nothing.”
As she leans forwards again to kiss me, I reach for her dress, raising it up before lifting her up so that her legs straddle my waist and we begin to kiss.
I’m aware of how unused I am to kissing on the mouth, but as she moans gently, I can’t help but push my tongue inside the wet warmth, dominating hers, pushing it back and side to side, letting her know that I need control.
Her hands grip my shoulders tightly as I carry her to the wall, pressing her back against it as we inhale each other’s breaths, our tongues dancing, the wetness of her saliva reminding me of how wet her pussy was yesterday, how open, how desperate I felt to feed my hard cock inside the tight little hole.
I hold her ass up as I press into her, fucking her small mouth rhythmically as I gently pulse my hard erection between her legs, restraining myself from pulling her panties to the side and entering her.
