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She glances down at our joined bodies and then back up to me. “It seems like you more than… can.” She punctuates that last word with her hips as she grinds down even harder, drawing a sharp sound from me.
“You know what I mean.”
“Motherfuck… am I going to have to gag you?”
I actually laugh at this. There is no woman on this planet with the bravery to tie me up and then threaten to gag me.
“I have a plan,” She continues. “You don’t fuck me. I fuck you. I’ll tie you up, so you can’t get out of hand.”
“But you have to untie me eventually.”
She leans close, her mouth an inch from mine and whispers. “I’ll fuck you until you’re too wiped out to do anything more.”
I groan at that. She smells now like those Red Hots cinnamon candies, the lilac and honeysuckle of the past long gone. My hips arch up to meet her. I want my hands free so I can drive into her, but I don’t trust myself. Even now I don’t trust myself fully with her.
She captures my mouth in a kiss, and now I’m sure I’m not imagining this cinnamon candy smell.
“Did you eat Red Hots?”
Mina pulls away from me and smirks. “I stole some of Annette’s leftover Valentine’s Candies.”
I hate all holidays, but Valentine’s Day is the worst, most useless holiday ever invented. Though the original pagan version, where men chased women around whipping them… I like that one.
“Promise me we aren’t going to become one of those sweet hearts and flowers couples.”
“Oh, come on, you know you want to slow dance with me while Frank Sinatra croons, My Funny Valentine.”
“I would rather be tortured to death.” These probably aren’t the wisest words to say to a woman who killed two men today and now has me chained down. She could have gotten a taste for it.
She leans down to lick the side of my throat, her hips still moving, milking me.
“Stealing my moves?” I ask.
She shrugs. “This is what I want. Sex with you, like this. Then everything else the way it was. I’ll be the good little girl and call you master in front of the others, and when we play. But when I’m on top, I’m on top. Do we understand each other?” Her voice is a low, seductive purr.
I should fight this. I shouldn’t let her have it, but the truth is, I like this wild, free side of her. I like the part of her that killed without flinching and helped me carry the bags of body parts to the car, the part that didn’t fall to pieces. The part that was there with me, fierce and strong and sexy as hell.
As if reading my mind she says… “You can still have the sweet begging side of me. I can still be the good girl, but don’t you also want me to be the bad girl… just a little bit?”
Her fingernails score my flesh as they run down my chest drawing blood, and I cry out. It’s the thing that drives me over the edge—that sharp slice of pain mixed with the pleasure—and then I’m spilling into her. She grinds against me harder, wringing me out, taking her own pleasure on the tail end of mine. And the noises she makes... When she’s had her fill, she collapses on top of me.
“Unchain me,” I say. The words come out like gravel.
“Master?”
Yeah she knows she’s in trouble.
I chuckle. “Oh, we’re back to respect now are we? You think that’ll save you? Don’t worry, it won’t be tonight, but I’ve got a running list of your infractions, and there will be consequences.”
She shivers against me as she rises to look in my eyes to see just how much trouble she’s in. Her long dark hair tickles my chest. I raise a brow at her, and she scrambles to get the key and unlock the shackles binding me. This act may be her bravest one today. Unchaining me after that is braver than fucking me in the first place. It’s even braver than what she did earlier today.
I rise slowly from the bed, but I don’t go for her. Instead I say, “Take all that off and get in bed. It’s late.”
She just nods and goes to unhook the bra while I blow out the candles and join her. In the darkness I pull her to me, our bodies entwined together. She doesn’t try to talk about her feelings or get me to talk about mine.
We’re just silent, feeling each other’s warmth and breath. Never have I been more happy to have a vasectomy. I’m pretty sure all of the owners at the house have had it done. Our lifestyle isn’t exactly a child-friendly environment. I wouldn’t scar a kid with this place. That's not even counting what a mini-me might be like. I don’t think he’d become a sociopath by way of genetics, but I’m not sure a kid could be around me for very long without turning into one in the long term. I mean, look at Mina.
This time when I drift off to sleep, it’s not a blank blackness. Instead, I dream vivid, lush, beautiful dreams of all the punishments my girl has coming. The screams, the sweet begging, her pleasure. She’ll give it all to me.
THE END
