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I notice the way he winces as I drag him back against me. Adam still struggles so much with the really dirty, kinky things, and I know the reason he feels so bad is because of how badly he wants it.
I just wish he’d let go and give in to what he truly desires.
“Don’t tell me that doesn’t sound fun,” I say, leaning close for another kiss.
He pulls away again. “Does it sound fun to you?”
“Yes,” I reply without hesitation.
“Being my fuck toy sounds fun to you?” This time when he asks it, it sounds more like he’s challenging me than asking.
“Yes,” I answer again, more emphatically.
He climbs off the bed in frustration, reaching for his boxer briefs on the floor and dragging them up his legs as we sit in awkward silence. His movements are rapid and full of tension, radiating anger.
“Just say what you want to say, Adam.”
When he spins around, his expression is tight. Thin lips, flared nostrils, wide eyes. “Why do you want me to treat you like shit? You’re theone fuckingperson I don’t want to hurt, but I feel like you keep pushing me to. I don’t get it, Sage.”
I hate it when he calls me Sage. I’ve just now realized how much I hate it. Because it means he’s not being intimate. It means he’s cross, either with me or someone else.
“You think I understand?” I reply, lowering until I’m sitting on my feet. “I’ve never wanted anyone to degrade me like that, Adam, but Idesperatelywant it with you. I think…because you’re so good all the time, I want to be the person you’re comfortable enough with to let go of all of that. I want you to bebadwith me. And I refuse to feel ashamed of what I want. I just…thought you liked it too.”
“I do like it,” he bursts out, looking far more frustrated as he drags his fingers through his hair. Then he climbs back on the bed and cradles my face in his hands. “Ilovethe idea of making you my fuck toy. I love the idea of fucking you so hard you scream. I love the way you look when you’re gagging on my cock, tears running down your face.”
His thumb runs along my cheek before his hand closes around my throat. Then he pulls my face against his in a way that’s both rough and romantic.
“Hurting you turns me on, Peaches, and I hate myself for that. Please don’t ask me to do it.”
His fingers relax from around my throat as he peppers my face with delicate kisses. I practically melt in his arms.
I feel his torment in the tremble of his fingers and the tender way he holds me like something fragile and valuable. For so long, I’ve tried to help fix all of the broken things inside him and now I’m asking him to do something that could break him even more.
Or would it heal him?
His entire life, he’s been trained to believe these lustful cravings are wrong. That he’s sick and depraved and sinful. If Adam learns to control these things he wants and experiencesrealtrust, would it help repair everything his father taught him was wrong with him?
“You’re not really hurting me, Adam. You know that. It’s all an illusion that turns us on, and that’s okay. Besides…” I whisper, looking into his eyes. “I trust you.”
I can see by the way he stares back at me that this is what he needs to hear. His ability to trust has been shattered, so telling him that I trust him might be the one thing he needs most.
So I continue.
“You could tie me up. Spank me. Hurt me, and I trust that if I told you to stop, you would.”
“And I can trust you to tell me if it gets to that?”
“Yes,” I say with conviction. “You can trust me.”
I feel the conflict in him burning like fire as he stares into my eyes. He’s on the verge of something and the progress we’ve made so far means the world to me. And I want to make the rest of that progress together.
“If youreallydon’t want to, then we won’t,” I say gently. “I’d never pressure you into something I didn’t think you truly wanted, but I see the way you’re struggling, Adam. And I just want you to learn to let go of the lies you’ve been fed your entire life that these things you want are bad. Stop telling yourself that fucking me is hurting me.”
I press my fingers to his chest, feeling his heartbeat.
“Okay,” he says, and by the intense eye contact between us, I know he means it. Thatthismeans something special to him, and my heart swells with pride.
* * *
