Chapter 10
CHAPTER
TEN
BLAKE
I’ve spent an entire game against Italy being as aggressive as I was against Sweden the other day—perhaps even more so.
There’s only one reason for that, and she had better be in our room when I get there.
It’s been three days of me replaying the almost-kiss, followed by two days of watching her hungrily watch me and try to coquettishly lure me in while we are in the room.
Not even scoring a goal myself during the game is enough to sate me today.
I am clearly in my follicular phase, and temptation is getting the better of me.
At this point, I don’t even feel bad about it.
I am certainly not telling Charlie so she can talk me out of this car crash.
She’s busy romancing her girl—not that she would admit to romancing, but I know stars when I see them.
Pushing my key into the lock angrily, I’m already heaving.
It takes me a couple of tries to open the door due to my adrenaline—which started spiking in the game, and refuses to crash until I see this through.
It bangs behind me as I rush through to find Imani sitting on her bed watching something on her iPad, but it doesn’t seem to be tape, from how she hastily shuts it down and hides it under her pillow guiltily. Later, I think, as I stomp toward her.
She rears back, eyes flashing with something more complex than fear as I crouch down to her level and stare into her eyes.
“Let me ask you a question,” I can’t help but growl out. “Do you still want me?”
“Yes!” Imani answers with no hesitation, leaning into me.
“Do I have consent to kiss you?” I grind out, trying to keep from jumping out of my skin.
She nods enthusiastically.
“I’m going to need verbals, Imani,” I say with frustration.
“Yes! Yes, ple—” she begins, but I snap.
Pulling her forward by her throat, I pull her into my body, planting my lips on hers. Opening for me immediately, she throws herself headlong into the kiss. I stroke her tongue with mine, feasting on her mouth as our lips meet in synchronicity over and over.
Her whimpers spur me into further action, and I decide I can keep this going for just a little bit longer.
Keeping a hand on her throat, I bring my other hand to her hip and bodily move her to lie against the pillow.
It’s heaven having her under me at fucking last. It’s been mere days since the bathroom incident, and I’m already ravenous for her.
As she knocks my hat off my head and threads her hands through my hair, I reflect that I’m honestly probably a saint for the amount of willpower that I’ve demonstrated thus far.
I use my hold on her throat to keep her in place as I reluctantly pull away from her. “Goddamn, Cupcake. That was as good as I imagined it would be—and I have a very active imagination.”
“More,” she begs, squirming into the mattress.
“Not yet. We have to have a conversation first,” I inform Imani, hating myself with every word.
Because she’s apparently a natural brat, too, she bats those long eyelashes against her cut cheekbones and rolls her body beautifully so that she grinds her pussy on the leg that I’ve put between her thighs.
“You’re racking up punishment and you don’t even know what you’re asking for, Cupcake,” I warn her darkly.
“I’ll take it. I’ll take anything you want to give me. Just give me more,” Imani blurts out and then covers her mouth with a hand, brown eyes going wide-eyed at her own begging.
I chuckle, sliding my hand from her throat to caress her cheek.
“It’s okay. I like it when you beg. Don’t be embarrassed.
Unless you like the embarrassment. We can talk about that.
We’re already going to talk about all of it.
You’re safe with me—that’s precisely why we have to stop.
I absolutely cannot go further with you if I want to establish that safety. Okay?”
Imani’s hand slips away from her mouth, landing delicately askew on her pillow as she nods.
“There we go. It’s okay. I’m not cutting you off, I’m just saying we need to talk. All right?” I gently intone.
She slaps my hand away from her face, the bluster back as quickly as it left. “Fine. Then get off of me so we can have our talk.”
Chuckling, I rise up and away from her, sitting on the other side of her bed. There’s plenty of room between us, but she curls her legs up into her body as though she can’t get far enough away from me.
“Cupcake, I’m not rejecting you. This is me wanting to start something with you,” I coax her back into openness.
Imani sniffs in derision and looks away from me.
“Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking. Let’s start there, shall we?” I say with a smile.
“You’re treating me like I can’t make up my own mind. Everyone treats me like that. Like you know better than I do about what to do with my own fucking body,” Imani angrily says into her knees.
“Ah. Okay. Well, I’m actually trying to do the opposite of that.
What we are about to do is a negotiation, and it’s a reflection of how much I respect you and your bodily autonomy that we have this discussion.
Every Dominant should start a dynamic this way.
I realize that I made a lot of decisions for you the other day, and that was bullshit behavior on my part,” I say with seriousness.
“Oh?” She perks up.
“Yes. I know you’re inexperienced with kink, but I’d hate to think of you falling into the hands of a fake Dom and being traumatized.
So. We are going to have a formal negotiation.
You are going to tell me the things you want to do, the things you won’t do, the things you might do.
We are going to do none of those things today.
You’re going to think about this. When you’re ready, you’ll let me know.
If at any point you decide that you don’t want to do this with me, you’re going to tell me.
If at any point you decide that you don’t want to do something you once said you wanted, you’re going to tell me.
If at any point you need to safe out, you’re going to tell me.
That is your power. You always have power. Okay?” I lay out for her.
Imani considers my words and then relaxes a little. “I have power. Even though I’m a bottom?”
“100%,” I confirm.
“Even though I’m a—what did you call me---a natural submissive?” She double-checks.
“Always, Cupcake. And if you feel like you don’t have power except in the ways you have negotiated giving it to me, or you don’t think you like the way I’m using that power, we have another negotiation. We are equal partners in this,” I reaffirm.
Uncurling from her closed-off position, Imani settles into a more neutral criss-cross applesauce, with her hands folded neatly into her lap, and waits for me to continue.
“Let me start by asking—what do you like?” I open the dialogue.
“I like penetration,” she answers confidently.
“That’s a great start, and very useful to know.” I smile at her.
Imani coughs to try and hide the blush that I know is there, even though it’s invisible to my eye.
“Don’t bother, Cupcake. You’re easy for me to read,” I laugh.
“How? No one else can,” she asks with confusion.
“Through the art of paying attention.” I wink. “What else do you like?”
“I like whatever you did with the light choking, I guess.” She rolls her eyes.
“Excellent, and what else?” I wave a hand for her to continue.
“Why don’t you tell me, since you can read me?” she huffs.
“Fine, brat. I think you like being put in your place by someone who cares about you. I think you like being submissive to someone you feel safe with. I think you like being told what the rules are. I think you like being good at following those rules. And I think most importantly, you like being praised when you do that well. How true does that ring?” I cock my head at her expression, which is one of shock.
Imani picks her jaw off the floor and gets up, turning toward the escape of the door.
“You can walk out if you want, but I’d rather you use your words to tell me when I do something you don’t like,” I inform her, lazily leaning a shoulder against the wall.
She turns back toward me, and I watch as she does mental math.
“What I hate is that I did like it,” she grits out.
“Sit down and we’ll talk about it.” I pat the space where she was sitting only moments before.
Imani settles back down on the bed, but her back is the ramrod straight of someone ready to run. “How do you do that?”
“I’ve been doing this a long time. And despite what Charlie would say, I do enjoy hard work… especially when the work in question is cracking the puzzle of a pretty girl.” I grin.
“Stop flirting with me. It’s distracting,” Imani protests and smooths her hair back into her characteristic bun.
“I’m trying to make you relax since you look like a colt ready to spook,” I reveal.
“I’m not… I’m just nervous. Can you…” I watch her swallow after she trails off. “Can you tell me what you’re into?”
“Of course, Cupcake. I like a formal D/s dynamic, but those take time and I’m not sure if we have that, or if that’s even something you’d like to learn; restraints, but I’m not good with rope; forced orgasms; choking, as you well know; my favorite is a lot of impact, that’s hitting spots that feel good—it can be ass, thighs, tits, and for some, face; and I think one of my kinks that will work very well with you is a lot of praise,” I list for her.
Imani is clearly a mess after I’ve done so.
“Mhm. What out of those made you the squirmy worm you are now?” I tease.
“Who says I’m a squirmy worm because of you?” She answers icily.
I throw my head back and laugh. “You are such a Goddamn brat. We’ll never get anywhere if you act like that during a negotiation, though. Come on.”
She hides her face in her hands. “Is answering that all of them did an option?”
“Thank you for your vulnerability,” I reward her. “But think carefully and see if there’s anything you wouldn’t want to do at all, or if there’s anything you’re not sure about but might want to revisit later. The former is called a hard limit, and the latter is called a soft limit.”
“Can… can the face impact be a soft limit?” Imani mumbles into her hands.
“Of course, Cupcake. Thank you for trusting me with that,” I respond.
It elicits a little shiver from her, and I smile to myself.
“Are you into anal?” She continues to mumble into her hands.
“Yes. Tell me your thoughts,” I encourage her.
“That’s a hard limit. Is that okay?” She raises her head, and I see the fear shining in her eyes.
“It’s always okay to tell me your limits. I’ll remember that. We aren’t going to do anything you don’t want to do,” I reassure her.
Imani squints at me. “What are your limits, then?”
“Watersports, scat, vore,” I list off on my fingers. “Those are the hard limits. A lot of things are soft and depend on my partner and our established relationship.”
“Like what?” She inquires.
“Like CNC, for instance. That requires a depth of trust that you can’t put a timeline on.” I tell her.
“Which is…?” She waves a hand for me to continue.
“Consensual non-consent. Going into a scene that’s been prenegotiated, whereupon the bottom will pretend they don’t want it and perhaps even put up a fight physically or verbally, and the top only stops if the safeword is called,” I explain.
“Speaking of safewords, what are mine?” She asks earnestly.
“We are going to use what is called the stoplight system: green, yellow, and red. Green means go, yellow means pause and assess, and red means everything stops right fucking now. This is important. Do you understand?” I confirm.
“I understand—green, yellow, and red. I’ll remember,” Imani agrees.
“Good girl,” I praise her and watch her melt in front of my eyes.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“If you decide to do this with me, I’ll want to hear ‘thank you, Sir,’ got it?” I say, as calmly as I can, so as not to betray how much I want to hear those words.
“Yes, Sir,” she utters, and I halt.
“Fucking Christ, Imani. I only want to hear it if you agree,” I correct.
She cackles at my discomposure, and I smile in return.
“Yep, big fucking brat. Now, I’m off to the pub, hopefully with my wayward best friend. Think about what we discussed—really think. I’ll see you later,” I give my salutations and, without changing, just pick my hat up from where Imani discarded it on the floor and make to leave.
I feel a squishy thing that must be a pillow hit me in the back, and I turn to see Imani pouting.
“I’m not Cupcake anymore?” She narrows her eyes at me.
I walk over, push her back on the bed, and kiss her, lingering longer than I rightly should. When I’m done, she’s breathless and gobsmacked. I pull back from her and let the curtain of my hair frame her face, encapsulating the two of us in a strained moment full of promise. “You’re always Cupcake.”
With that, I swagger out the door, hearing the sounds of her whimpers salute me goodbye.
I shouldn’t, but I really want her to say yes to me. She doesn’t have to say yes to it all. That was the point of the conversation that just unfolded. But I can do a lot with a little… and honestly, all I’m hoping for is just one “Sir” uttered from those plump plum lips.