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His forehead smooths and his eyes darken. I think he’s getting it. Maybe he’ll even go along with it. I hope he will. I’ve been craving getting closer to him since this morning in the dorm, and I think he’s been craving me too. This might be the only way to enjoy each other without him having to worry about hurting me.
I pull my air of command around me like a cool, silky bathrobe. “Now, sit against the headboard. Please.” I wince. I’m probably not coming off very confident, but I’m doing my best.
I’ve only heard about this kind of thing because of movies and TV, and I think it’s called being a dominant or a domme. From what little I’ve observed, this kind of thing only works if one person takes charge and the other submits. The one in charge is responsible for the pleasure of both parties. And the safety. If I’m in charge, there’s no chance of me getting hurt, and if I do get hurt, it won’t be Brawn’s fault. It’ll be mine. At least, that’s how the reasoning goes in my head. I hope I’m right. And I hope I can pull this off. I’m definitelynotnaturally dominant.
Some of the tension leaves his arms and shoulders. He narrows his eyes. “You giving me commands, little girl?”
A shiver runs up and down my spine. I shouldn’t like being called little girl, but I do.Oh,I do. But I can’t think about myself right now. I’m in charge, and that’s a heavy responsibility. I think Brawn’s testing me to see if I’m really strong enough to command him.
I imagine Jud when he’s in one of his bossy moods—which is pretty much all the time—and I try to handle Brawn’s question with the same take-no-prisoners attitude. “You questioning me, boy?” A naughty thrill zings through my middle as I call himboy.
It seems to do something to Brawn as well. He drops his head, and whispers,“Fuuuuck.”I think that means he likes what I’m doing. I take it as a sign to keep it up.
“You have two seconds to sit against the headboard like I said or I’m building that wall of pillows, and you won’t see me ’til morning.”
He only needs one second. The franken-mattress dips and shudders as he gets into position, fully clothed except for the canoe-sized boots lying on the floor. “You expect me to say, yes, mistress, or any of that shit?”
“Ew, no.” My reaction is automatic. I don’t like the idea of being a “mistress,” but I guess that’s what I’m trying to be. “Unless you want to.” Darn. I sound uncertain. “Scratch that. You’ll call me, um…Petal.” He compared me to a flower, after all.
“Fuck, yeah.” He licks his lips. “Petal.”
Oh.Wow.Coming from his wet lips, it sounds like a dirty word. I love it.
“What do you want me to do now?” he asks.
Oh, yeah. He’s into this. All I have to do is stay in the role, and maybe we can give each other a taste of what we’ve both been wanting since this morning.
“Put your hands on the bed,” I tell him, knee-walking to his side. “And don’t move them unless I say.” I stop close enough that I can feel the heat pulsing off his thighs. I want the denim gone so I can feel the heat directly from his skin, but there’s something else I want first.
He rests his hands on the blankets on either side of his hips, and I don’t waste a single second. I climb aboard.
His entire body goes stiff. “Cora,” he growls.
“That’s not my name when we’re in this bed.”
A low, guttural sound churns in his throat, but he doesn’t argue, and his hands stay put. I have a wild beast beneath me, and he’s choosing to be caged by my voice alone.
“Sorry, Petal.”
I could get used to this being-in-charge thing. I settle myself on his lap, facing him, the way Jud likes when he takes me for a ride on the four-wheeler.
My legs are spread wide around his hips, and my knees don’t even touch the bed. That’s how huge and thick he is. His thighs are like California redwoods, and the hard ridge beneath me is like a fire hydrant jammed in his pantleg. It’s a wonder it’s not shredding the fabric to break free.
Thanks to Jud and Doc, I’m not frightened of penises, anymore. I know they can behave. I know they can take orders. I can order Jud to take his out so I can pet it and kiss it, and he will, because it’s not really his. It belongs to me. Even though Brawn hasn’t gifted me his penis, I suspect it will follow directions just as well.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Ignoring the hardness beneath my center, I lean into Brawn. I cup his bearded cheeks in my hands.Ahhh!That’s what his luxurious beard feels like. It’s like petting a wolf only recently tamed. With a happy sigh, I place my lips on his. His mouth is broad and nestled in the center of a wild beard two shades darker than the hair on his head. The coarse strands scrape at my face, adding to the warm tingles racing through me.
Like with everything else, Brawn is careful as he massages his lips against mine. But he’s not very good at letting me lead. He presses into me, leaning forward until he’s towering over me in our sitting position. His hands come off the bed and creep up to my waist.
I break the kiss and plant a hand in the center of his chest to push him back.
“If your hands move again without permission, it’s ‘Hello, pillow wall.’ Do I make myself clear?”
His chest rises and falls with deep breaths. His eyes are glazed and unfocused. “Yes, Petal. Please kiss me again, Petal.”
“I’m the one who says what happens in this bed. Not you.”
“Yes, Petal.”
