Chapter 37 Landon
LANDON
The tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife. I can sense it radiating from her body, feel it in the careful way she breathes beside me. The electricity between us is nothing new, but this—this quiet domesticity—is unexplored territory.
I won’t move first. Not tonight. This isn’t about sex or the games of control. It’s about what lies beyond my understanding. Why her? Why does she reach into me past flesh and claim more than I ever meant to give?
We finish our food in silence. I gather the empty containers while she settles deeper into the couch, pulling her knees up to her chest. When I return, she shifts, making room for me. After a moment’s hesitation, she curls against my side, her head resting on my shoulder.
A strange warmth expands in my chest. I wrap my arm around her, drawing her closer.
On screen, the medical drama continues with its predictable storylines and manufactured crises. It’s mind-numbingly boring—people in scrubs running through corridors, talking about procedures I don’t care about. But Sadie enjoys it.
The mundane intimacy of the moment is more unsettling than any violent impulse I’ve ever had. I understand violence. I understand desire. This quiet comfort is foreign.
When the episode finally ends—thank fuck—Sadie reaches for the remote and turns off the TV. The sudden silence amplifies the sound of our breathing, the subtle shift of her body as she turns to face me.
Her eyes meet mine, questioning, searching. The air between us crackles with potential energy. Instinct claws at me—to pin her to the couch, to devour her mouth and body, to remind her exactly how this works.
I remain still, watching her, waiting.
Her expression shifts. Before I can read it, she leans forward. Her lips press against mine, hesitant at first, then with growing confidence.
Sadie pulls back from the kiss; determination mixed with desire flashing in her eyes. She shifts her weight, repositioning herself until she’s straddling my lap. The sudden pressure of her body against mine hardens my already semi-hard cock.
“Is this okay?” she asks.
I nod once, my hands finding her hips but not directing her movements. She rocks against me, and I feel myself harden instantly beneath her.
She kisses me again, hungrier now. I answer, but hold back from the instinct to roll her beneath me, to take what I want. This feels like more than that. I loosen my hold on her hips and let her set the pace.
Sadie’s breathing quickens as she establishes a rhythm, grinding against me with increasing urgency. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling as she breaks the kiss to trail her lips along my jaw to my ear.
“Fuck me,” she whispers, her warm breath sending shivers down my spine. “Please.”
I swallow hard. “That wasn’t the plan for tonight, little butterfly. Just food and TV.” My voice sounds strained even to my own ears. “But if you want to fuck yourself on me, you can. You’re in the driver’s seat.”
She pulls back, eyes wide as my words sink in. I’ve never yielded before—not to her, not to anyone. Her shock twists into equal parts hunger and hesitation, as if she doesn’t yet know how to hold the weight of this power.
“You mean it?” she asks.
I nod, keeping my expression neutral despite the riot of unfamiliar emotions surging through me. “Tonight, you decide what happens. What you want. How you want it.”
Sadie’s eyes light up with a spark that looks a lot like excitement. She shifts on my lap, her hands reaching between us with eager movements. I feel her fingers working at my belt, then my zipper, her movements clumsy in her haste.
“Careful,” I warn, but there’s no bite to it.
My cock springs free as she pulls down my pants just enough, and the relief is immediate. I’m rock hard, have been all Goddamn night.
She lifts herself slightly, positioning herself above me, and that’s when I notice—feel it actually—the slick heat of her directly against my skin. No barrier of fabric between us.
“No panties?” I raise an eyebrow as she rubs herself against my length. “Were you planning this all along, little butterfly?”
The wetness sliding along my cock is obscene, her slickness making the glide of her pussy frictionless and perfect. I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to thrust into her.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” I breathe out, watching her face as she works herself against me, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. “All this from a kiss and some TV?”
Sadie bites her lower lip. “I’ve been like this all night,” she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Sitting next to you, feeling your arm around me... I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
” She rocks more purposefully, her clit sliding against the underside of my cock. “About you. Inside me.”
Even when I’m not actively trying to seduce her, she wants me—needs me even.
Sadie lifts herself up, positioning my cock at her entrance. Her eyes lock with mine, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face before determination takes over. Then she slams down, taking me to the hilt in one swift movement.
“Fuck,” she groans, her head falling back as she adjusts to the sudden fullness.
I fight to keep my hips still, as her hands move to her breasts, fingers finding her nipples through the thin fabric of her shirt. She pinches them, rolling them between her fingers as she starts to move.
Christ, she’s magnificent like this. Her body flushed with pleasure, lips parted, eyes heavy-lidded as she rides me at her own pace. I’ve never seen anything so fucking beautiful in my life.
I’ve never allowed this before. The thought of yielding, especially in bed, would have been unthinkable with anyone else—met with fury, with the instinct to dominate, to crush resistance.
But with Sadie, watching her take her pleasure from my body, setting her own rhythm, making her own choices—it’s intoxicating in ways I never anticipated.
She’s the only woman I’ve ever given this privilege to.
The only one I’ve ever trusted enough, wanted enough, to let her have this power over me.
And as she begins to find her rhythm, lifting herself almost completely off my cock before sliding back down, I wonder if I might become addicted to the sight of her using me for her own satisfaction.
“Fuck, little butterfly,” I growl. “Look at you taking what you want.”
My hands grip her hips to steady her as she rides me. The sensation of her tight cunt enveloping me is overwhelming. I’ve had countless women, but none have ever felt fundamental and necessary.
“You feel so fucking good,” I tell her. “So perfect around my cock.”
Her rhythm falters at my words, her eyes fluttering open to meet mine.
“The way you move...” I continue. “So fucking beautiful.”
A small gasp escapes her as I reach between us, my thumb finding her clit. I circle it gently, not pushing her toward climax but enhancing the pleasure she’s already creating for herself.
“That’s it,” I encourage as she picks up speed. “Take what you need from me.”
“Landon,” she breathes, and my name has never sounded so sacred.
Her inner walls flutter around me as she approaches her peak. My hips instinctively thrust up to meet her downward movements.
“I’ve never—” I start, then stop myself. I’ve never what? Given up control?
Instead of finishing the thought, I pull her down for a kiss that lacks the bruising force of our previous encounters. Her lips are soft against mine, yielding yet assertive. When she breaks the kiss to gasp for air, I whisper against her mouth.
“You’re fucking perfect. Take what’s yours.”
Sadie’s movements become more deliberate, her hips rolling with newfound confidence. Each time she takes me to the hilt, a small gasp escapes her lips. I’m transfixed by the sight of her—head thrown back, lips parted, her body moving with instinctive grace.
“God, you feel incredible,” she whimpers.
I’ve had countless women in my bed, but none of them ever looked at me like this—like I’m giving them a precious gift.
Her pace quickens, her breathing ragged. I can feel her tightening around me, the telltale flutter of her impending release.
“That’s it, little butterfly,” I urge, my voice breaking rough. “Show me how you fall apart when you’re the one in charge.”
The words push her over the edge. Her body tenses, her inner walls clamping down on me as she cries out. The sound of my name on her lips as she comes is almost enough to trigger my own release.
Almost.
I hold back, gritting my teeth against the desire threatening to overwhelm me. I want to see her like this a little longer, watching her lost in ecstasy.
As the waves of her orgasm begin to subside, she collapses against my chest, her breath hot against my neck. I’m still hard inside her, my own release on pause.
“You didn’t—” she starts, lifting her head to look at me, confusion in her eyes.
“Not yet,” I murmur, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I wanted to watch you.”
The vulnerability in her eyes makes my stomach twist. Sadie shifts, her body still joined with mine, her inner walls fluttering with aftershocks around my painfully hard cock. “Why did you let me do that?” she questions.
I trace my thumb across her lower lip. “Because I wanted to see what you’d do with freedom,” I admit. “What you would choose if I wasn’t forcing you.”
The implication hangs between us—that what she chose was me. Not because I demanded it, not because I manipulated her body’s responses, but because she wanted it. Because she wanted me.
She rocks against me experimentally, her eyes widening when she feels how hard I am inside her. “You’re still...”
“Yes.” I grip her hips, but don’t direct her movements. “I’m not finished with you yet, little butterfly.”
A small smile tugs at her mouth—not the look of someone afraid, but of someone surprised by the power she’s just discovered. “What happens now?” she asks. “Do you want to take back the reins?”
I hesitate, annoyed at my own pause. The possessive part of me—the part that’s always defined my touch—burns to flip her over and take her hard until she screams my name. But another, quieter part wants to watch.
“That depends,” I say, measuring her. “Do you want me to take the reins again, or do you want to finish what you started?”
Sadie shifts against me, her movements sending waves of pleasure through my body. Her teeth sink into her lower lip. This moment of contemplation—her weighing her options, deciding what she truly wants—is more intoxicating than I expected.
“I...” she starts, then stops. A blush spreads across her cheeks, creeping down her neck. She looks away, unable to meet my gaze.
I grip her chin between my thumb and forefinger, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Tell me what you want, little butterfly. No consequences, no judgment. Just the truth.”
She swallows hard. “That was...” she gestures vaguely between us, “incredibly hot. Taking the lead like that.” I remain silent, waiting for her to continue.
“But I like it better when you dominate me,” she admits, the words rushing out as if she’s afraid she’ll lose her nerve.
“I like it when you dominate me. When you... when you make me yours.”
The admission hangs between us. It’s the first time she’s openly acknowledged what I’ve always known—that beneath her resistance, her struggle against me, she craves the very dominance she claims to hate.
“Say that again,” I command.
Her breath catches. “I like it when you dominate me,” she repeats, steadier this time. “When you take what’s yours.”
My grip on her hips tightens reflexively. This willing surrender is more powerful than any submission I’ve forced from her. The knowledge that she knows exactly what she wants sends a surge of hunger through me that’s almost blinding in its intensity.