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Also, I can’t deny, I’m jelly as fuck. I’m struggling to afford an apartment a couple miles from here. I need to find someone to move in with me, and here’s Mr. Single Dude, with all this space he doesn’t even need.
Where’s the justice?
And we’re in Minnesota, it’s not like San Francisco, or New York City. I’m aware that housing is generally more affordable here than in many other states. But I’m salty as fuck about the chips I’ve been dealt recently.
I had put on my big girl pants and was adulting like the boss bitch I am. Finally. For the first time in my whole life I was standing on my own two feet. Except it’s all come down around my ears, and I’m not sure how to find my way forward through the debris.
I’m struggling to find my fucking joy.
Maybe Thor will find it in my panties.
“Are you coming in? Or are you just going to stand there?” Thor quirks his eyebrow in what I’m coming to learn is his signature move. It seems to denote anything from mild amusement, to surprise, and everything in between.
He’s staring at me with those twinkly blue eyes that make my clit tingle. Damn straight I’m coming in, and if he keeps looking at me like that, I might straight up come before I even cross the threshold. Orgasm right here on the porch in the street for his neighbors to hear.
I step into his space, enjoying him deliberately brushing up against me as he closes the door. When he turns to face me, he seems to want to touch me again. I swallow, resisting the urge to lick my lips. My body pulses with anticipation.
I have no idea what’s about to go down, but I know it’s going to be good.
You don’t practice your craft as much as him and not get really,reallygood at it. I have high expectations, and my vagina is ready to be changed forever.
“You want to sit?” He gestures at the table in the open-planned space behind me but I shake my head.
He leads me through the clean, minimalist house stopping at a non-descript door. “You still okay?”
My whole body trembles. I have no idea if it’s from nerves, or excitement. My mouth is dry, my pussy soaked, and when he frowns at my nod, I somehow find the word “yes” lodged at the back of my throat.
“If that changes when we get to the bottom of this staircase, that’s okay. Okay?”
I’ve never been so acutely aware of having complete advocacy over my entire body until I met this man. The feeling of being totally in control, of knowing I can withdraw consent at any time, is a heady rush that tingles all over. He’s not bullshitting me either. I believe him one hundred percent.
At the bottom of the stairs we enter a huge room. A giant cage-type bed stands in the middle of the room, a mix of metal and wood with a literal cage underneath the mattress and wooden beams overhead with various hooks and appendages.
Whips, crops, and floggers hang from free-standing metal displays. A unit with a number of drawers is within arm’s reach of the bed. He has a dancing pole, a sex swing, and a Sybian placed around the room along with a curved erotic chaise, and a black leather-padded bench with restraints for arms and legs.
A St. Andrew’s cross stands near the wall to the left of the bed, and a red leather studded couch to the right. Paige took Kenzie and I for a tour around Protocol one afternoon before it opened and showed us all of the toys and apparatuses. I don’t remember all the names, but the Sybian and the St. Andrew’s cross both made an impression.
Standing, taking everything in around the room, my body thrums. This room is an extension of the decor upstairs, black and silver with scarlet accents adding a pop of color here and there. But it’s clean, simplistic, yet somehow manages to exude class.
The bed holds my attention, my legs both fixed in place and shaking with desire to close the ten feet of space and bring me where I ache to be.
“What do you want to do, Addison?” His voice glides over the back of my neck as he brushes my hair to one side.
He’s closer than I expected, and it sends a shiver through my muscles making my body jerk. Heart thundering, pulse skipping in all my pressure points, and mind racing, I try to focus and listen to the frantic urges bubbling under my skin.
“I want you to spank me.” I really do. Even the thought of it has my already-moist panties getting hotter and wetter. So much for that needing-to-build-trust thing. If this man asked me to get on my knees right now I’d do it without a second thought. I’d be ashamed of myself but I’m too fucking horny.
Without another word, he turns me to face him, grazes my cheekbone with his fingertips before catching them under my chin to tip my head back. “You’re such a stunning woman Addison.”
He doesn’t give me time to respond before his lips are on mine. It’s a different kiss from the one in the bar. This one is powerful, hungry, consuming. Dominant. He silently demands access to my mouth, and as soon as I start to part my lips his tongue presses inside.
My body sags against his as his tongue assaults my mouth. There isn’t a millimeter of the space he doesn’t know within seconds. His hands slide up my face, his fingers spearing into my hair. A barb of pain radiates across my scalp as he jerks his hands downward, snapping my head back and giving him access to my neck.
“So fucking beautiful.” His murmurs against the skin on my neck and the edge of my shoulder make me quiver. Does he say this to everyone he brings here? Or does he really think I’m beautiful?
I’m not given a chance to dwell on those intrusive thoughts because while one hand grips my hair with a sharp bite, the other is moving south like he can’t wait to explore me. When he gets to the swell of my breast I purr into his mouth.
Every part of my body that his hands travel over comes to life like he’s flicking on a string of tiny fairy lights with the movement. They’re lighting up one by one.
