Ten
Trinity
I stand naked before him, the air prickling against my skin as Greyson circles me like a predator assessing its prey.
“Stand behind the couch and bend over,” he commands, his voice a low rumble.
For a moment, I hesitate, the weight of his order pressing against the boundaries I usually maintain. But something in his voice makes me move. My heart races as I step into place, anticipation coursing through me.
There’s something undeniably thrilling about this man taking charge. As I lean forward, resting my palms on the leather surface, he traces a path down my back, over my curves, lingering on my ass before slipping lower. A shiver runs through me as his fingers probe between my legs, finding me wet and ready.
He whispers, his breath hot against my ear, “You’re very turned on.”
A small nod is all I can muster.
“Trinity,” he begins, “you left my hotel room without permission last time.” He pauses. “Did we do something that upset you?”
“No,” I breathe, the truth of it simple and clear. I liked it too much, and I couldn’t tell him that.
Without warning, a sharp pinch to my nipple jolts me from my thoughts. His words follow. “I’m going to spank you for being so naughty.” But then he adds, “If it becomes too much, just tell me, and I’ll stop.”
I nod again, granting permission and accepting the punishment. Then comes the first slap, a nice, hard smack against my ass cheek. I gasp at the sensation, a mix of pain and pleasure that throbs through me. Greyson’s touch is quick to soothe, caressing away the burn.
One, two, three more spanks land across my flesh, alternating sides, each one sending waves of both agony and ecstasy crashing through me. My groans fill the room as he slides two fingers inside me once more, stretching, filling me.
“See? I know how much you like this,” Greyson says, reading my body like an open book, every reaction laid bare for him to interpret. And he’s right, I do. Every part of me is screaming for release, begging for the sweet climax I know he can give.
But I also know it’s not mine to take, not until he decides I’ve earned it.
My breath hitches as he stretches me farther with a third finger, his free hand finding my clit. His fingers dance inside me while his thumb circles in a rhythm that sends shockwaves through my core. I’m teetering on the edge of something explosive, but just as I’m about to tumble over the precipice, he stops.
“Naughty girls can only come when they’re given permission,” he reminds me. His words send a jolt through me, but it’s more than just desire. It’s the intoxicating mix of trust and surrender, of letting someone else take the reins for once.
I hate how much I crave it. How much I crave him. Because needing anyone has always felt dangerous, like stepping onto a bridge you’re not sure will hold. And yet, here I am, giving him control, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
A whimper escapes my lips, and I turn to look at him, a silent plea in my eyes, but Greyson is unyielding.
“Get on your knees,” he commands, and I descend to the floor. The sound of his zipper reverberates, and when his cock springs forward, my body responds with an instinctive hunger. “You’re going to suck my cock,” he tells me, and my nipples pebble against the cool air.
I envelop him, taking him deep, and I feel him at the back of my throat.
“Damn you look hot with my cock down your throat,” he murmurs. “Now look at me. Show me how much you love my cock.”
Lifting my gaze, I lock eyes with Greyson, setting a brisk pace as I worship him with lips and tongue. My hand wraps around the base, stroking in time with the movements of my mouth, while my other hand sneaks down to play with my clit, desperate for some relief.
I’m so close, hovering on the brink of ecstasy, when Greyson captures my wrist, pulling it away from my center. “You don’t have permission to come yet,” he says gruffly.
Denied once more, I focus all my attention on pleasuring him, determined to earn the release held just out of reach. He pulls his cock from my mouth with a loud pop.
“Stand up,” Greyson orders, a hint of satisfaction in his voice as he steps back. I rise to my feet, shaky and flushed with arousal. He takes my hand, leading me down the dimly lit hallway to his bedroom.
“Get on all fours,” he instructs .
I position myself obediently, facing the large mirror that dominates the room. In it, I see both of us—my anticipation evident in every line of my body, his dominant presence looming behind me. This reminds me of our first time together. He strips down, each article of clothing sliding from his body as a promise of what’s to come.
There’s a glint in the mirror on his right nipple. Is that a piercing? How did I miss that last time?
Greyson grabs a handful of condoms from the nightstand and unwraps one. The sight of him rolling it onto his impressive length sends a surge of pleasure through me, and before I can stifle it, a small climax shudders through my body.
“Did you just orgasm?” Greyson’s brow arches in the reflection.
I nod, breathless. “I couldn’t help myself.”
He shakes his head, not with disappointment but with a restrained hunger that makes my core clench. Greyson positions himself behind me, and as he pushes in deep, the sensation is overwhelming—so big, so full—I feel him against my cervix, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out.
“Remember, no orgasm without my permission,” he reminds. But then he adds again, “Tell me if it becomes too much.”
I don’t want less. I crave more, every thrust, every nuance of pleasure. I watch him move, powerful muscles flexing with every pivot, and the reflection in the mirror only amplifies the intensity. My need coils tight. “Harder,” I groan.
“You’re so fucking beautiful as you unravel.”
He jackhammers in and out as my eyes track every move.
“Touch yourself,” he urges, and my fingers dart down to my clit, circling with desperate urgency. I’m so close now, teetering on the edge of oblivion, when suddenly his thumb presses against my asshole. A shockwave of sensation blots out everything else. All I see is white, pure and blinding.
“I’m going to come,” I announce .
He thrusts even faster.
The climax hits like a storm, fierce and all-consuming. My entire body seizes, and I am suspended in time, freefalling over the precipice into a sea of ecstasy. I hear my own release as if from a distance, a keening cry that echoes in the room.
“Trinity,” Greyson groans as my pussy clenches around him, milking him for all he’s worth. For a moment, we are nothing but sensation and desire, two beings fused by the most primal of connections.
I collapse onto the bed, my limbs splayed in sweet exhaustion, breathless from the storm of sensation that just ravaged through me. Greyson’s name pulses in my veins like a sacred mantra. After a moment, he strides to the bathroom, leaving me in silence.
When he returns, there’s a tenderness in his eyes. A warm washcloth glides over my skin, soothing and intimate, erasing the remnants of our fervor. He cleans me with careful precision, his touch gentle in a way that feels almost foreign after the intensity of what just happened. And yet, even as I find comfort in his care, a quiet voice whispers in the back of my mind. What happens when this tenderness is gone? When this version of him, soft and steady, gives way to the man who always has to be in control? Not just in the bedroom, but in life…
I push the thought away, burying it beneath the warmth of his embrace. Yet the question lingers, unresolved.
He pulls me close, his arms holding me tightly against his chest. His heartbeat is a steady drum, grounding me as I try to regain my sense of self after being so thoroughly undone.
“I should get going,” I murmur. “Need to see my mom and check in.” It’s a feeble attempt at responsibility, but even as I say it, I long to remain ensconced in this cocoon of warmth.
Greyson’s grip tightens infinitesimally, his body pressed flush against mine. “Not yet,” he commands. “You will stay right where you are.” There’s no room for argument in his tone, and honestly, I don’t want to anyway.
Just for now , I tell myself. Because reality can wait a little longer.