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A shuddering breath leaves me. Can this be real? Can he really be offering all of this to me? Does he truly even know what this means? What I want of him? But it damn sure wouldn't hurt to see if he can give me what I need. Maybe it could take the edge off the fucking sexual frustration that's been riddling me for months. Maybe he can at least give me some semblance of what I desire. Maybe the dreams would stop, if nothing else. My phone vibrates in my hand again.
Jackson:You must want what I'm offering. To be up at almost three in the morning thinking about it.
Me:Maybe I just can't fall asleep in a new house.
Jackson:But we both know that isn't the reason why. You're up because you want whatever it is you dream about me doing to you to become reality. Because you want me to bring your fantasy to life just as much as I want to give that to you.
Just the way that he talks as if we've already agreed to this. As if he's the one in control and I just haven't fully realized it yet, it has me wanting to say yes. It has me wanting every single thing he's offering. It has me imagining even dirtier things than we've done in my dreams. But still, a part of can't help but continue to wonder if I'll only be disappointed in the end. Does he understand all that I'll need him to give to me?
Me:Do you truly believe you can fulfill my fantasy?
Jackson:I know I can.
The certainty of his words. It almost makes me certain too. I sit up in bed now, crossing my legs, ignoring the tension coiling between my thighs. Biting on the corner of my bottom lip, trying to decide if I dare to go through with this. If I dare to actually give him a chance to let him prove that his words are true. Taking a deep breath, I begin typing.
Me:Say I did want to take you up on your offer. Where would we begin?
Jackson:With establishing your limits.
My limits. Not ours. Why does that turn me on so much? To think that maybe he doesn't have limits. That he might just go beyond what my limits are anyway.
Me:Limits? Such as?
I tap the phone against my thigh, awaiting his response, hating that I'm counting each second until my phone vibrates again.
Jackson:Such as are you okay with slapping, choking, biting, toys, anal, fisting. Is there anything you can't see yourself being comfortable doing?
I think these words should frighten me, but they excite me instead. They play like vivid pictures in my mind, making my body flush with heat and desire.
Jackson:Did I scare you?
Me:The very opposite. None of that sounds like it would make me the least bit uncomfortable. Well, except fisting. That just sounds painful.
Jackson:Do you not want pain?
Me:I do, but pain that leads to pleasure.
Jackson:Noted. Bondage?
Me:Wanted.
Jackson:Name-calling?
Me:Needed.
Jackson:Weapons?
My eyes widen as I read it. What the hell does he mean? But even as I stare at the single word, the single question, the thought ofit turns me on. And strangely, I trust Jackson enough to know he wouldn’t actually hurt me. But is it that trust that will keep me from being able to truly enjoy our little game?
Me:A wary yes.
Jackson:Wary sounds like just the place to be to do all of this. Wary of what I’ll do, and just how far I’ll go to do it. Isn’t that the point?
Me:It is.
Jackson:Threats?
Me:Yes. Be prepared to follow through on some of them, though.
