Chapter 5
The cool night air kisses our skin as we step out of Marco’s car, but it’s not the breeze that sends shivers down my spine—it’s the heat in his gaze. The hunger.
“Let’s go inside,” I say.
We climb the steps to my brownstone, and a moment later, the door swings open. I lead him over the threshold, and we kick off our shoes inside the door.
“Should we have a drink?” he asks, his voice low and smooth like aged whiskey.
I turn to face him, the dim light casting shadows over his sharp features, making him look even more dangerous, more irresistible. Why waste time? We both know what we want—what we need. The way he lets me be who I am without apology has me on fire.
“Marco,” I start, closing the distance between us until I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. “Is that what you really want? A drink?”
His eyes hold mine; a storm brewing in them promises destruction in the sweetest way. I reach for his hand, lacing my fingers with his, and pull him toward the bedroom. He follows me up the stairs, a willing captive in our game.
“Fuck, I like the way you think,” he moans.
“That’s not all you’re going to like,” I assure him.
The bedroom door opens with a soft creak. Inside, the room is awash with the soft glow of a strand of twinkling lights I have strewn over the sheer curtains of my window. Here, in this space, I can be anyone and do anything. I can make any of my fantasies come true.
My hand remains clasped in his, and I watch him as he takes in the space. His eyes dart around the room, full of many colors, textures, and fun devices. His gaze lifts to the ceiling, and he studies the leather and metal contraption that dangles with silent promise.
“Didn’t expect that, did you?” I tease, a sly smile playing on my lips.
Marco’s eyes are wide, a shade of blue gone dark in the low light. Surprise etches his face, but there’s a glint of intrigue there too. He chuckles. “What exactly is that?”
I step closer, my fingertips grazing his chest. My nails trace the lapels of his jacket before I slide it off his shoulders. It falls, a whisper against the floor.
I lean in, my lips grazing his earlobe, as I whisper, “That, Marco, is a sex swing. And tonight, we’re going to use it to explore every inch of each other.”
His body tenses beneath my touch, anticipation and desire swirling in his eyes. I run my hands down his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. My fingers trail lower, unbuttoning each one slowly, deliberately.
With his shirt discarded on the floor, I take a step back to admire him. The soft light caresses his bare skin, casting shadows and accentuating every contour and curve.
I reach for the hem of my dress, pulling it up and over my head in one fluid motion. Now naked before him, I stand tall and unashamed. The confidence radiates from me as I approach him again.
“Oh fuck,” he breathes. “I didn’t realize you were naked under that.”
I shrug playfully. “You wouldn’t want a girl to have panty lines, would you?”
He shakes his head. “Oh, absolutely not.”
A smile forms. “Are you ready for this?”
“Very,” he affirms, his voice bold. He’s about to learn that in this room, I’m queen, and he’s willingly stepped into my kingdom. This queen is all about being worshipped.
His muscles tense under my touch, coiled strength waiting to be unleashed. He watches me, a predator entranced by the dance of his equal. His chest rises and falls in a rhythm that beckons me to sync. I stand back enough to let him see me, really see me.
“Jesus, Gia...” Marco’s voice is a ragged whisper. His control slips as desire edges out the caution he started the night with.
“Like what you see?” I taunt, my confidence a flame drawing him in.
I step into him, close enough to feel his breath, heavy and laden with want. His hands find the small of my back, tracing upward, igniting a trail of heat that pools deep within me. He’s exploring, searching, claiming. My skin tingles under his touch, each caress stoking the fire in my belly.
“Marco,” I breathe out, my voice thick with desire.
His fingers dance along my ribs teasingly. The anticipation of his touch is maddening and thrilling. His hands cup my cheeks, thumbs brushing over my jaw as he pulls me closer. Our breaths mingle in a silent conversation of need. His eyes, dark with passion, don’t leave mine, even as his hands continue their journey.
“Show me,” he murmurs, a command wrapped in velvet.
Nodding, I take his hand, leading him toward the sex swing. It’s an invitation, a dare, a promise. I can feel his gaze on my naked body as I guide him to the seat of the swing.
“Wait, I thought you were in the swing,” he interjects apprehensively.
“Oh, we’ll get there,” I assure him. “But you first, so I can show you what I like.” I hide my surprise when he follows my commands, and with steady hands, I secure the restraints around his wrists, ensuring his safety and asserting my control.
With his arms strapped in, I make quick work of unbuttoning his pants and sliding them to the ground, followed by his boxer briefs. He steps out of them, kicking the garments to the side, and I marvel at his cock, which already stands at full attention, eager to explore everything I have in store for the evening.
“Slide your legs through these loops and then hop onto the strap,” I instruct, motioning toward the broader piece of padded fabric.
He laughs and explains he has never done anything like this. I make clear that he is then in for a treat as he eagerly obeys. I can tell a part of him wants to give me authority over him. He lifts himself onto the swing, his eyes never leaving mine.
He’s suspended now, a mighty man at my mercy. I step back, surveying my work. Excitement courses through me, potent and wild. What I am not telling Marco is that I have never had a man play the role I have asked him to play tonight. I have always been in the swing, but to be handed this power over someone like him is so intoxicating, a wetness gathers between my thighs.
“Trust me,” I whisper.
His nod is all the affirmation I need.
I step around Marco, taking in the sight of him, vulnerable yet trusting. My fingertips graze his skin, tracing the lines of muscles. I relish in the shiver I see run through him. His breath catches as I move with purpose, my confidence growing with each hitch of his heartbeat.
“Let go,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to his forehead, anointing him for the ritual we’re about to perform. He nods, the tension easing from his shoulders, surrendering to the ebb and flow of sensation I’m orchestrating.
With each movement, the swing responds, a dance of leather and steel cradling his body. I watch him, suspended and open, a canvas for our shared desires.
I move into him, and my lips meet him, a soft, gentle touch, tasting the lust that fills his mouth. I break the kiss, trailing my fingers down his chest, over his rock-hard abs, and across the sensitive skin below.
“Now let’s see what you have to offer,” I whisper seductively, my eyes fixed on his.
Marco’s eyes blaze with desire as he watches my every movement, eager for more. His scent fills the air, a dangerous cocktail of man and desire, and it only makes me hungrier for him.
I trace my fingers along the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, watching as his body trembles with anticipation. I spread his legs apart even more, revealing the throbbing erection that has been waiting for me all night.
My fingers brush against his sensitive skin, just enough to keep him on the edge of control. He gasps, bucking his hips in response.
“Please,” he whispers, his voice rough with need.
I know exactly what he wants, and I won’t disappoint him. I take his cock in my hand, gently stroking it as I lean in, my breath ghosting against his flesh.
His eyes flutter closed, his breath hitches, and Marco lets out a low groan. Heat radiates from him, and even though my body craves his touch, I can’t resist the temptation to prolong his anticipation.
I trace my fingers over the base of his cock, feeling the wetness seeping from his tip.
“Is this what you want?” I whisper, my lips brushing against his thigh.
He nods.
Finally, I take him in my mouth, savoring the taste and feel of him as I tease him further. My lips move slowly and steadily, my tongue dancing within my mouth. I can feel him growing harder, his breaths becoming more ragged.
Marco’s body tenses, his hips lifting slightly as he tries to push deeper into me.
“Holy shit.” The desperate words escape him.
I release him, my lips glistening from the taste of his desire.
“I need to touch you,” he pleads, reaching for me, limited by the range of the restraints on the swing.
I step back, wanting to savor this moment and see the yearning in his eyes.
Moving closer to his hand, he can brush against my skin. The sensation is electric, sending shivers down my spine. His hands reach my breasts, cupping them. His thumb brushes over my nipples, sending a jolt of desire through my body. I arch my back, offering myself to him, my body begging for more.
“You’re so beautiful,” Marco whispers, his eyes locked onto me.
I can feel his desire coursing through him, and I’m more than ready to give in to it.
“Show me how much you want me,” I say.
“How do you want me to do that?” he asks, his voice low and seductive.
“I want you to trust me enough to allow me to do whatever I want to you,” I answer.
His eyes show that he’s attempting to understand, trying to make sense of this uncharted territory he finds himself in. But something in his gaze tells me he’s ready to take this leap with me.
With cautious hesitance, he nods.
I walk across the room and open the doors to the armoire, an interior light flicking on to reveal my treasure chest inside. I glance over my shoulder to see Marco watching me intensely. My eyes take stock of all my goodies inside, and I lift a hand to run my fingertips across them. A flogger, riding crop, a collection of blindfolds and handcuffs, but then I come to the items that brought me over here in the first place. I collect the necessary items to make this an experience Marco will always remember. Any man who wants to marry me will have to be willing to push his boundaries like he never has.
“What’s that?” Marco asks, eyeing me apprehensively as I step into the device and pull it up into place.
I turn so that he can see it better. “This is a strap-on.”
Marco swallows hard, his eyes taking in the sight of the apparatus before looking back at me. A mix of desire and fear is evident in his expression. “Wait,” he says softly, his voice shaking. “I’ve never—”
“Don’t worry.” I interject. “We don’t start with this. We start with this,” I explain, lifting up a small handheld toy that is sleek and designed for more entry-level anal pleasure. I show it to him, a silent question in my gaze. His lips part in a soundless, “I don’t know.”
“Will you trust me?” I ask again, watching his face for his reaction.
“Yes,” he whispers, his eyes locked on mine, filled with trust and uncertainty. With the other hand, I grab a bottle of lube and step forward, brushing our bodies together.
Looking him in the eyes, I tell him, “I’ll take it slow, okay?”
He nods.
Coating the narrow toy in a liberal amount of lube, I ask, “You ready?”
“I hope so.” He chuckles apprehensively.
I step back slightly, and with one hand on the swing’s frame and the other holding the device, I slowly begin to insert the toy.
Marco’s breath hitches, his eyes widening as he watches me. I never look away from him. I go slow, inching the toy inward ever so slightly with each pump, allowing the lube to do its work. His stomach muscles flex in response to the sensation. He’s powerless, suspended in front of me; his best option is to surrender to me.
“Relax, Marco,” I whisper, trying to keep my voice soft and soothing. In our world, a man would never experience this, and I want to show him what he has been missing. “Just breathe. Let me take care of you.”
His breathing is shallow and quick, but I see him trying to comply. I continue to ease the toy in, feeling the resistance fade with each pass. As it slips in farther, I can see his body relax, his hips moving gently in response.
“That’s it,” I say. “Let go.”
He doesn’t say anything, but I can see the trust building in his eyes. I thrust the toy in and out, slowly at first, building up in speed as his body adjusts. Marco’s hips move with mine, his body responding to the sensation.
“You’re doing great,” I praise him, my voice low and sultry. “Just like that. You love to make me happy, don’t you?”
“Oh God, yes,” he moans.
With the quickened pace, I lean over and slip his cock into my mouth.
He groans, arching his back as I take him deeper. My mouth moves in rhythm with my hands, my body responding to his.
I feel his hips buck against me, his body tense with desire.
“Gia,” he whispers hoarsely. I release, not ready for him to come, and pull the toy from him slowly.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” I tell him as I set the toy aside and coat the slightly thicker strap-on with a generous amount of lube.
I take a step back, giving him time to prepare and let the novelty and excitement of what is about to happen sink in. I can see the uncertainty in his eyes. Still, I also see the desire, the hunger for something more, something different.
“Are you ready?” I ask softly, my voice a whisper in the dark room.
He takes a deep breath and nods slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.
I step forward, my hands steady as I position the strap-on at his entrance. I take a deep breath, and then using one hand to guide me into him, I use the other to stroke his cock. The swing’s sway helps guide the motions.
Marco lets out a moan of pure exhilaration as I slowly but firmly push the strap-on into him. His eyes flutter shut, and he throws his head back, surrendering to the sensation. I watch his face, the mixture of pain and pleasure, the confusion and arousal, and I know I’m giving him something he’s never experienced before.
“Is this okay?” I ask, keeping my voice soft yet firm.
He nods, his breaths ragged. “Yes, keep going.”
I oblige, increasing the intensity of my thrusts.
His body responds to the sensation, his hips moving in time with each thrust, his muscles tense with pleasure. I can see the veins in his neck standing out. I reach down, gripping him tight and pulling him closer, our bodies coming together in a frenzy of desire.
“You feel so good,” I whisper, my voice a low growl as I drive the strap-on deeper into him. I love the power I feel coursing through me when I get to experience being inside someone like this.
His hands grip the swing frame. I continue to thrust, the rhythm of our bodies in perfect sync. Marco’s body responds wildly to my dominance, his moans becoming more and more primal with each thrust.
I can see his expression change. He’s fighting to hold back, but the feeling of the strap-on inside him is making it nearly impossible.
“You want it, don’t you?” I ask, my voice low and sultry. “You want to let go and surrender to me.”
He doesn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes tells me everything I need to know.
I increase the pace, feeling his body respond to my every movement. “It’s okay,” I assure him. “Next round, I surrender to you.”
My words send him over the edge. His body convulses beneath me, the orgasm washing over him, his cock twitching in my hand as he lets out a guttural moan. His cum spills out, running down my hand and onto his stomach. I feel his muscles clenching around the strap-on, trying to hold on to the sensation for a few more seconds.
As he begins to come down from the high and his body continues to tremble, I pull the strap-on out of him slowly, savoring the sight of his ecstasy.
“That was... fuck, that was amazing,” he pants, his eyes still locked on mine.
I smile at him as I release him from the arm restraints. “Thank you for trusting me.”
I can see the exhaustion and relief in his eyes as he stares back at me.
With a soft chuckle, I remove the strap-on and set it aside. “How about we clean up and rest a bit?” I lean over and kiss him on the cheek before whispering, “And then it’s my turn.”
Marco smiles as he exits the swing, freeing his legs, and tells me how eager he is to return the favor. I guide him into the bathroom, where we wash each other’s bodies, preparing each other for what else the night holds.
Once we are back in the bedroom, lying together on the bed, our bodies draped across one another, my hand naturally gravitates to Marco’s face. I trace his jawline, feeling the stubble beneath my fingertips. The silence stretches between us, filled with the echo of my confession.
He draws a deep breath and finally speaks, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken truths. “Gia, I’ve never really played with toys before,” he admits, his eyes searching mine for a response.
The vulnerability in his gaze is raw, striking chords within me that resonate with longing and admiration. Here lies a man who commands respect, yet he lays bare his inexperience without pretense, seeking connection over ego.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my heart swelling. “Most men wouldn’t have been as vulnerable as you were with me tonight.”
Marco’s lips curve into a soft smile, and he pulls me closer. “I feel like I can be open about anything with you.”
I trace the contours of Marco’s tattooed arm, each line a testament to his life’s journey. He watches, his muscles relaxing under my touch and his breath steady and deep.
“Marco,” I begin. “There’s something I need to know.”
He stirs, his arm tightening around me. “Anything, Gia.”
“Did you really mean it”—I pause, collecting the courage that scatters like shadows at dawn—“when you said I could have physical relationships with other men?”
He exhales a long breath that seems to carry the weight of his thoughts. “I told you I will never lie to you,” he says finally, his voice firm despite the vulnerability I hear lacing the edges. “If that’s what it takes for you to be happy, I mean what I said.”
“I hope I don’t regret this, but yes,” I say.
He looks at me with a puzzled expression. “Yes? Yes to what?”
“Yes to you, to us, to this fucked-up, crazy marriage you’re proposing,” I answer, the word a key turning in a lock.
“Seriously?” he asks with a hopeful expression on his face.
I nod. “I know it wasn’t easy to let me take control like I did tonight.”
He tilts his head. “It was definitely new for me.”
“I want you to know that any man willing to make himself vulnerable like that is special, without question. On top of that, the fact that you’re willing to put my happiness and needs above any insecurities you might have...” I pause and shake my head. “Maybe I’m crazy, but I actually think maybe I misjudged you.”
He smiles. “I am pretty fucking great.”
I laugh. “Dammit, if you turn out like all the others, I’m going to fucking kill you.”
“As you should,” he replies with a smirk. His smile widens.
“What?” I ask, glancing down at myself, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
He licks his lip, and with a large grin, he replies, “You’re my fiancée.”
I burrow my head into his chest, and he wraps his arms around me. “Shut up,” I huff.
We don’t say anything more about it. The rest of the night isn’t about our engagement. It’s about learning the ways our bodies connect. As each one of my orgasms slams into the next, I fight to push away the fear that I’m making a mistake. I don’t have the greatest track record with men breaking my heart, but I’ve also never had a man willing to be as raw with me as Marco. For now, my best option seems to be to proceed with cautious optimism.