My stomach flipped and a thousand hummingbirds let loose inside. “You can do whatever you want with me.” I’d always meant it – any time I’d given myself to anyone, it had been true.
But it was so much more thrilling to give myself and know that the man in front of me would take me and push me and be exactly what I needed and would protect me as well.
“Yes,” Reeve said, stroking two fingers along the curve of my jaw. “I can.” He moved his hand to my shoulder as he circled around behind me. Then, with a hand coiled tightly in my hair, he jerked me to my feet. I shivered as he bit into my neck then soothed his mark with his tongue.
“The question is,” he said, his mouth hot and wet at my ear, “can you take it if what I want is to love you?”
My entire body tensed as adrenaline shot through my veins. My heart thumped against my chest and thrummed in my ears and throbbed at my pulse points. No. I couldn’t take that. I wanted to shake my head, wanted to refuse, but I’d said he could do anything. And I wanted to mean it.
He knew what he was asking, how hard it would be for me. He ran his hands soothingly over the slopes of my shoulders and down my arms. “I think that might be the one thing that would truly break you,” he murmured. “The one thing that will truly destroy you.”
It would. It would break me so sweetly, so deliciously, so completely. This man had held me down, controlled my breath, threatened danger that made me fear for my life. But this – to be truly loved, to truly let myself take it and accept it and feel it – this was the most frightening thing he’d ever put upon me. The most terrifying slope he’d asked me to climb, and I didn’t have a safety belt or a net or anything to catch me but him.
Then I would leave, and he wouldn’t be there, and I’d keep falling. Forever.
“Can you take that?” he asked again.
The answer was no. The answer was definitely not. But it wasn’t mine to decide. It was his because he owned me, and he could do with me as he pleased, and I trusted him.
So I didn’t answer him. Instead, as he bent to kiss and nip the side of my throat, I told him that I liked how it felt. I told him, “Yes.”
His hands were all over me then, sweeping over my skin with the attention one would give to polishing fine silver. His stroke was firm and purposeful, and everywhere his fingers grazed I was revived. Dissolved. Little by little, like sun touching on one mound of snow and then another and another, melting and thawing into beads of sweat and anticipation along the nerves of my body.
I turned my head toward him, a spring flower reaching for the nourishing light. He hovered his mouth over mine. “Where do you want me to touch you?”
His breath brushed across my lips and even that – even just that – sent bolts of fire to my core.
“You choose,” I pleaded with him. If he was going to destroy me, I wanted him to decide what the method would be.
“No. Tell me or it will be everywhere.” He licked across my bottom lip, and I had to reach my hand up to clamp around his neck to keep from falling.
Everywhere, then. If that’s what he wanted, then that’s what I’d endure – his touch, everywhere.
“Yes,” I purred. “Yes.”
He wrapped his arms around my torso and pulled me tighter against his body. The rigid outline of his thick, hard cock pressed into my backside and his hands lifted my breasts, heavy from need.
“Here?” He bent over my shoulder to watch as his palms spread over my skin and plumped my tits. “Is this where I should love you?”
“Yes.” If it was the only word I could manage for the rest of the night, it would be enough. I’d say it over and over, to everything he asked. Yes, yes, yes.
He narrowed the grasp of his fingers, bringing them in close to pinch and tug my nipples so hard I squirmed. “Your body is mind-boggling, Emily. So round and soft yet firm and strong.” He rubbed his cock in the crevice of my ass with a groan. “It’s like crown jewels, and I can never decide if I want to show you off proudly, to let everyone see the beauty of my most prized object or if I want to keep you locked away only for myself.”
I panted, the pressure of his fingers on my nipples enough to bring me near climax.
“Please,” I croaked, because his words were killing me. He’d told me before that there were other beautiful bodies, that mine was nothing special, and I’d been so turned on to be just his receptacle, just this thing that he used for his own pleasure.
But I’d never known this. Never known how aroused I could be from his love, from hearing how I was a place to put his cock but I was also more. How I was someone he wanted to look at and please and adore and command. I’d underestimated the possibility that the two could coexist, never quite believing that I could be both used and cherished. Both owned and valued. Not to this extent. Not this completely both.
Without warning, Reeve spun me around and threw me backward to the bed. I raised myself up to lean on my elbows. He still had his bottoms on, minus any underwear, I realized from the way his erection tented out from his body. And as he stood above me, staring at me, eyes dark with lust and devotion, he stroked his cock through his pajamas. It had to be painful with how strained and large he was, with how he pulsed under his palm.
“Wider,” he said, his teeth gritted. “Spread your legs wider so I can get to all the places I’m going to be.”
I bent my legs, widening until I was completely displayed for him. My breathing grew heavier, and I curled my fingers into the sheets, anticipating his next move. He’d strip. He’d brace himself over me. He’d jut into me and I’d be destroyed.