2. Amy #2
No. He wants this, that much is clear. But the struggle within me isn’t because I don’t want it, but because I do.
Gods above, I do. And that’s what’s scary, especially when I know my family, most of society, and maybe even my best friend would be upset with me over this.
Something I’ve desperately tried to avoid my entire life.
“I want this.” I want this as much as you do. Even if I shouldn’t. Even if I just asked for space. I want him too much to think clearly.
He seems to recognize what I didn’t say, because those gray eyes widen. He leans his chin on my thigh. “Okay, then. Let me show you just how good of husband material I am.”
His hands slowly drag up my thighs. The air stutters out of my lungs like he stole it from me.
“Raise your hips, leannán. Let me see you. Let me get a taste for what I’ve been starving for.”
I arch my hips towards him, and he sits back enough to drag my jeans down me. He tosses them across the room, and they haven’t even landed before his hands are on me again, sliding up the bare skin of my thighs.
“As soft as I knew you’d be, love. I promise, I’ll be good for you. Please. Let me.”
His words stir a bright flame of desire within me that I didn't even know existed. I’ll be good for you.
I didn’t know a man on his knees, begging to eat me out was a kink of mine.
Gods above, I didn’t know that this would be what Kerry is into, either.
I would’ve never guessed, based on his desire for control and how effortlessly dominant he’s been up until now.
And yet, there’s something in his gaze that tells me that, by letting me have the power, he’s making sure I’m respected and comfortable.
He’s willing to hand over his dominance to be thoroughly sure I’m consenting.
I never knew consent could be so hot, but it is.
I didn’t even realize this was something I needed, especially in this situation.
But he did. He knew. He read me like a fucking book and respected boundaries I hadn’t even directly voiced, which is far different than what I’m used to. My parents often neglect to even acknowledge my requests, and my grandparents will scoff and blow off my direct boundary-setting.
But Kerry? He’s different. I don’t have to put in the labor of constantly setting boundaries.
He’s going out of his way to be thoughtful and think ahead of my own needs before I even realize them.
And if he’s willing to do that? Then he’ll be more than willing to listen when I actually do tell him my boundaries.
I think that’s what he meant by telling me to get angry with him.
Please. Let me. Simple words. Ones clearly meant to arouse, and they do. But just like everything that this man does, it’s thoughtful. Controlled. He’s five steps ahead and killing fifteen birds with one stone. He’s refined his skills so much, and he understands me.
It’s something new. Something invigorating. Something thrilling.
Proof that he isn’t like anyone else, male or otherwise.
I give him a nod.
It’s not enough for him. “Please. Tell me I can, leannán.”
He could demand. He could be forcing me to speak. But he doesn’t. He’s coaxing me out of my shell, giving me space to emerge, making me feel safe. To feel powerful. To feel in control. He’s handing it over to me like he understands how important this is.
“You can.” To my own surprise, my voice sounds steady and sure. I’m not sure I could manage saying more than that, though.
He grins, a knowing flicker of sly delight in his gaze, like he knows how much effort that took but also how good it felt to take that control in my shaking hands.
He drags my underwear down next, slow and torturous.
“I’m not an impulsive man. I’ve got self-control that’s as strong as steel, leannán.
I know how to take my time, to worship…and I never half-ass anything.
Once I set my sights upon something, once I desire something, I’ll stop at nothing to get it.
No matter how long it takes. No matter how difficult it is. No matter how tired I am.”
My mouth goes dry. His words ring true based on everything I know about him. That’s how he’s gotten all of the power that he has. But those concepts applied to other things…applied to me…it’s making my clit swell and thrum like a drum.
He spreads my legs like he’s opening a safe and seeing all the gold and jewels hidden within.
His eyes widen and gleam, a smile sliding onto his face, more genuine and free than I’ve ever seen him, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with the weight of his joy.
“Beautiful…” His voice is deep, like distant thunder that makes you wonder if you actually heard or not.
“So fucking beautiful.” He croaks out this time, louder, more desperate.
He stares at my pussy long enough to let nerves creep up my spine, wondering if I’m supposed to be doing something, saying something, performing in some way. I’ve had sex before, but nothing like this. Nothing as intense, not with a man like this.